The Somerset Series: A Box Set: Books 2-4 Page 3

  “How do you know all of this, Clive?” Kendall asked. It was a question Bridgette wanted to ask as well.

  “I read,” he commented flatly. “The NDS requires us to attend an academy for a reason. We’re supposed to be aware of any and all ways vampires and werewolves can affect the human race. I specialized in terrain scouting, but I also researched biology as well. Most cadets prefer the sexy lifestyle fieldwork offers that they barely scrape by their academic classes. But I assure you, this was all in the text in our required reading.”

  Bridgette rolled her eyes at his insinuation that she had no patience for bookwork. That wasn’t exactly true. She just focused more on physical training since she was petite. Perhaps she should have made more of an effort to actually retain the information she had memorized simply to pass her exams.

  "I heard that if you have this connection with someone and you say their name, they can hear you," Kendall said before her cheeks turned a pinkish color that her youthful face always seemed to pull off. "But I don't know if it's true," she added. "It was just a rumor. Office gossip."

  "He’s the last person I’d ever want that sort of connection with," Bridgette said through gritted teeth. She found Clive grinning at her and her jaw popped. “God, Clive, do you really think now is the most appropriate time to add one of your asshole comments?”

  “I’m just flattered I’m not last on your list anymore,” he said, settling back into the black, leather seats.

  "Am I," Bridgette tried to ask, but her voice hitched and she was forced to stop. "Am I one of them? A werewolf?"

  Kendall gasped at such a notion, her eyes still fixed on the road, but Clive shook his head.

  "I doubt it," he said, shrugging one of his broad shoulders. "For him to have changed you, it would have taken him a lot longer than that to have done so. Just a nip on the neck would establish a connection – for whatever reason, I can't exactly say. But if he wanted to change you, it would have taken him a minute, at least."

  "But there's still some of him in me," Bridgette said, the corners of her lips sagging downwards into a frown. It was uncomfortable for her to be so vulnerable, especially in front of her peers, but she couldn’t control her worry. Maybe she hadn’t exactly been killed, but Sterling had left her, violated her basic rights, the way her mother was violated. It had always been her greatest fear, and now she was living through it, just as her mother had. Right before she died. "Whatever the fraction, whatever his original intentions, he is a part of me."

  "And you're a part of him," Clive added.

  It became quiet and silence hung in the air.

  Why me? A voice inside Bridgette's mind asked. Why would he bite me and not –

  "Clive?" Bridgette pierced the silence with her abrupt question. Clive turned back around so he could face her and quirked his brow, inquiring her to continue. "How did you survive? I know you specialize in environment setting. I know you probably know the place like the back of your hand. But how did you escape when there were wolves chasing after us? To the point where you could call Kendall and somehow, find me."

  "What do you mean?" Clive asked, and if Bridgette was being honest, he sounded almost defensive.

  "I mean, I'm glad you did," Bridgette clarified, backtracking a bit in order to make sure that Clive knew she didn't sound accusing. "Don't get me wrong, but if the guy – Sterling, or whatever his name is – didn't do anything else, I would have been mincemeat. Were you able to outrun them, or " -

  "I wasn't bitten, if that's what you're wondering," Clive told her. "I outran them. I mean, they gave us a couple of minutes as a head start, and everyone knows that I'm the fastest person at NDS, in every department, I might add." He crossed his arms over his chest. “Just because I’m smart doesn’t mean I also don’t possess physical skill as well.” He gave her one of his patented charm smiles.

  Even though she didn't want to, Bridgette had to smile while rolling her eyes. The guy was a narcissistic bastard, so soon after having his life threatened.

  It felt good to smile, if only slightly.

  "And the others?" she dared to ask. “Were they… did they…?”

  It was easy to tell by the pale color of Clive’s already-pale face that, as of yet, they weren’t heard from. Neither of them knew about the welfare of the two other partners. They didn't want to think about it, but the guilt that was coursing through the two field agents for surviving while it was a strong possibility that the other two did not was full and even painful. But now was not a time to dwell.

  "If it's true that they…" Clive tried to say but had to stop. He swallowed, closed his eyes, and tried once again. "If they are dead and there’s no hope for them, I swear an oath to their poor souls that I will do everything in my power to extract revenge upon those filthy dogs. Even if it means slaughtering every last one of them with my bare hands."

  Bridgette had to blink at the intensity of Clive’s eyes. It wasn’t common for him to get so passionate about violence, but every now and then, he had his moments where it would completely change him. After a while, he would return back to the Clive they knew, but when he was in his dark mood, it was easy to feel the tension radiating from his body.

  "Revenge isn't the answer, Clive," Kendall murmured quietly, not liking where the conversation was turning. "It never is."

  "Revenge is always the answer," Clive muttered. His shoulders eased up, and Bridgette knew he was done with his tirade – at least for now. It was odd how fast he went from one emotion to the next, especially since he was so laidback normally. "No one has the balls to do it, is all."

  He glanced over at Bridgette, easily finding her eyes in the darkness. "Make sure you watch your thoughts, Bridge. If it's true and if that wolf is inside of you, however small it may be, he may be able to feel what you're thinking, and if he's smart, he may be able to decipher what it is that's going on in your mind."

  Bridgette nodded but couldn't muster the strength to verbalize her agreement. Instead, she thought of her big bed waiting for her back at home.

  She had no idea how she was supposed to sleep tonight.

  5

  Bridgette's visit to the Nocturnal Defense Society's physician didn't exactly go as the she had planned. Dr. Cooper – with his friendly smile and thick-rimmed glasses – did his best to put her at ease, but she hated waiting. She always had. The one thing her mother told her as she grew up was that she had to work on was her patience. And though Bridgette really did try, it was incredibly hard for her to do so.

  What she had to wait for, of course, were the test results.

  Bridgette had allowed them to exam the bite – take photographs, make measurements, apply Neosporin and a bandage on it – and to take two vials of blood from her arm. She hated getting her blood drawn. She didn't have too much of a problem with needles themselves, but the feeling of them sliding into her arm irked her to no end. In fact, she couldn't actually watch the procedure, knowing her brain would trigger a pain reaction if she did so.

  Once finished, she was bandaged up and sent home with orders not to engage in any physical activity so she wouldn't strain herself on top of the fact that she needed some well-deserved rest. It was incredibly hard for Bridgette to follow her doctor's orders, though, because she had so much anxious energy built up. The best thing she could do to get rid of said energy and to keep unanswered questions at bay was to do little things around her apartment. Firstly, she went to her bedroom and lit a fire in the fireplace directly across from her queen-size bed. Once that was finished, she headed into the kitchen and boiled some milk so she could make her hot chocolate.

  The setup of her apartment was basic, but the size of it emphasized luxury. Her living room consisted of a flat screen television, a couch, and a glass coffee table with various magazines sprawled out of the surface. The floors were entirely wooden, which made for cold feet in the mornings should Bridgette choose to forego socks. There was a bookcase against the wall behind the couch filled with various books – m
ost of them romance, few of them nonfiction – all of them read. Her kitchen had a marble bar that separated itself from the living room and tucked in the corner was a dining room with a table suitable for four.

  As the milk boiled, Bridgette changed into flannel plain pajamas and tugged her hair out of a ponytail. She ran her fingers through the tresses before heading back into the kitchen to finish her task.

  With a mug of the hot drink in her hand, she headed to the bookcase and grabbed a book – this one with a Viking on the cover – and headed into her room. The fire was warm and cozy, and she hoped that with the drink and the book, she would get comfortable enough to fall asleep.

  It took two days until the physician had called her back into his office to give her the news.

  "I have good news and bad news," he told her with what attempted to be a friendly smile, but upon looking into his brown eyes, Bridgette could see how wary he was of the situation. He was looking at her differently than he had before. Something was definitely wrong. “Which would you like first?”

  "Bad," Bridgette said quickly and firmly. She tried to sit and managed to accomplish the feat, but her anxiety built, and to release it, she subconsciously began to jiggle her left leg. "Bad news first." And then, upon further thinking, added, "Please."

  Doctor Cooper tried to smile upon hearing the last word, but it was strained in vain. Instead, he forced his eyes down to the paperwork in his grasp, trying to think about how to explain his findings to her without upsetting her. He slid his glasses up the bridge of his beak-like nose. She couldn't be too emotional. Not with the information he held in his hands. He cleared his throat, shuffling the pages, but that did little good with helping him find the proper diction to sound reassuring. diction to use as explanation.

  "Okay," he finally drawled, slow and articulated. "The bad news is…" He forced himself to look into her eyes. "Your DNA showed evidence of your attacker, but after what you told me, we already knew it was Marcus Sterling who did this to you. Because he is the Alpha male of his pack, he is the most powerful wolf in the area. He also has the strongest amount of venom. A small bite could literally turn a human being into a werewolf if that was his intention."

  "He turned me?" Bridgette panicked, her eyes going wide. "You're saying I'm a werewolf?"

  "No," the physician clarified, shaking his head. "Not yet, at least. Now, Miss Barker, it is imperative that you calm down right now. You cannot overreact or get too emotional in your state."

  "You make it sound as if I'm pregnant," she said, her voice still shaky. She began to twirl her ponytail around her index finger, trying to get her body to relax. It was the hardest thing she ever tried to do, and it should be noted that she didn't quite accomplish it. Her leg still jiggled.

  "Well, you're not," Cooper told her flatly, giving the young woman a flat stare. "And it's no time for jokes, Miss Barker. Marcus Sterling's venom has mixed thoroughly with your bloodstream. Even though it is a mere bite, his venom has spread to the point where a blood transfusion would be impossible."

  “So…. What does this mean?” she bit out before clenching her teeth.

  “It means I cannot conclude one way or the other what is happening to you,” he told her. “I have no idea what Sterling’s intentions were when he bit you. You could be a werewolf, but you could also still be human with his DNA fused with yours.”

  "So I could be a werewolf? Can you, at least, tell me when I'm going to change? Is that the good news?"

  "I'm afraid not," Cooper said solemnly, shaking his head. "Your change could be spontaneous. We have no record of an Alpha male selecting a human mate on record so there's no way for us to know when you’re expected to transform, if you transform."

  "So what's the good news, exactly, because I'm not sure there is any at this point," Bridgette snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. She wasn't exactly mad at the physician; she knew he was just doing his job, but she was incredibly frustrated with herself and furious with that wolf, the bastard.

  Bridgette glanced around the windowless room. It was small, filled with various medical equipment. It was confining. It was getting difficult to breathe. "I can't get his DNA out of my body?” she said, her voice rising with every word. She needed to calm down, but even putting her hand over her heart wasn’t working. “I literally have no choice in the matter? There is no way I would ever want to become his… his mate or whatever the proper term is. I mean, can't I press charges? Can't I get him locked away for the rest of his life?"

  "I'm sure you could, but it wouldn't be a good idea," the physician warned. "If you do transform and possibly fall in love with him, if he is arrested, you'll feel as though a piece of your soul is literally torn from your body."

  "I'll never fall in love with him," Bridgette said without hesitation.

  Dr. Cooper went on as though she never interrupted him. "It is imperative that you take reigns on your emotions, Miss Barker," he reiterated. "If you feel one emotion too strongly, he can feel it too. You are connected. It is also true that if you call him, he will know to come to you. These things we do know for certain.”

  "Now, you asked for the good news, hmm?" Cooper shuffled through more of his papers before looking back at Bridgette. "The good news is that the bite is not fatal nor is it detrimental to your health."

  "That's it?" Bridgette asked, completely astounded at that sliver of news. She shifted her weight so the plastic on the examination seat crinkled underneath her. "That's the good news? That I'm alive?"

  "Aren't you glad you will live?" the physician asked.

  "Of course," she replied. "It's what I'm going to live as that I'm worried about."

  Bridgette Barker, for obvious reasons, was extremely upset. After getting the results back from the doctor, she got into her worn-in pick-up truck and screeched her tires out of the parking structure. Now, what was she supposed to do? Was she going to get fired since she was very possibly turning into the very thing she was supposed to hunt? Maybe not; there were a couple of werewolves and vampires that worked for the NDS. Maybe she could be a part of the Undercover Unit.

  But she liked her current job. She didn't want to transfer.

  This was all the Alpha’s fault.

  Before she realized what she was doing, she made a sharp U-turn and began to head for the outskirts of the town. She needed to talk to someone about her current predicament.

  She still wasn't thinking clearly when she parked the car and got out, all but stomping up to the porch and all but banging on the door.

  After a few moments, a butler – probably a newly-indicted member of the pack - finally opened the door, looking at Bridgette with subtle surprise. "Yes?" he asked.

  "I need to speak to Marcus Sterling," Bridgette said, trying to heed the doctor's warnings and keep a hold of her emotions. She also made sure it sounded as though she was not calling for him though she was tempted to do so if it actually worked. Surely he already knew she was here if they really did have a connection.

  "He's not here right now," a silky, feminine voice said, cutting the butler off. She cast one icy look at the servant before he nodded once and left, letting the two women speak in private. "May I ask what this is about?"

  Bridgette was caught off by the beauty this woman possessed, and she paused as her mind took in the sight of a surprisingly fragile-looking wolf. Normally, they were broader, tough, physically able-bodied. Not so… petite. The wolf was a few inches taller than she was, with straight, ebony hair, pale skin, and incredible blue eyes. Her lips looked naturally red, and her body was tight and toned while still having a good amount of curves. And when she spoke, her voice was smooth, and she revealed an impressive collection of white teeth.

  "I don't think so," Bridgette said, feeling her confidence dwindle slightly. "You know, I'll just come back when he's around. It's important that I talk to him." She turned and started to head back to her car when the wolf stopped her with a soft cry.

  "Excuse me?" Bridgette turned and s
he smiled as brightly as she could. "Is it about the mark on your neck?"

  Bridgette paused, not sure if she would admit to it or not. She took advantage of Bridgette’s hesitancy and continued. "You know what it means, right?"

  "No, actually, I don't," Bridgette said, finally turning to face her. She wasn’t sure if she should trust her. Why would a wolf want to help out a stranger to the pack anyways? What was in it for her?

  "Despite what you may have heard about the mark and what it represents or does, Marcus couldn't help it," she told Bridgette. "When a wolf experiences phasing, he can't help himself. He bites what he wants. Sometimes he doesn't even realize he went through phasing. It's his mark. It's letting everyone know that you are his. You're his property."

  "Will you tell him for me that I don't give a shit about some stupid mark on my neck?" Bridgette asked. She was surprisingly calm, her body stalk-still, despite her recent outburst at the agency’s onsite clinic. "I don't belong to him. I don't want him. I want to be rid of everything that has to do with him. Will you tell him that for me?"

  For whatever reason, Bridgette noticed the wolf’s eyes darken. "Of course," she told the young red head. "I'd be happy to."

  6

  It took a long time for Bridgette to finally fall asleep that night. She had locked her doors, closed her windows, and turned off every light except for the one in the kitchen. In her room, there was a fan blowing softly on the young woman, keeping her cool through the surprisingly hot night. Though it was summer, her apartment tended to run cool, and every now and then, she would make good use of her fireplace. Tonight was hot, sticky, and dreadfully uncomfortable. For a long while, Bridgette stared up at her smooth ceiling, trying to figure out if she felt any different. Nothing seemed out of place when it concerned her physical mentality. It wasn't like she had a sudden appetite for raw meat or needed to dry hump somebody's leg. But there was a fluttering in her stomach that persisted ever since she left Sterling's manor. She wasn't sure why it was pestering her, but it felt like her body was anticipating something her consciousness was currently unaware of. It made her nervous.