I did. Doc was ignoring us while intently tasting the air every few seconds, once in a while shifting directions, leading us on this strange chase. “How’d you guys meet?”
“Computer club,” answered Spike.
That explained a lot.
We didn’t say anything else for a while, following the invisible trail that Doc had picked up. Strangely, none of the Sunstrikers were around the cabins. Even the kids, usually heard if not seen, were nowhere in evidence. The whole place seemed deserted.
Doc paused and turned to focus on one of the cabins, then stopped in his tracks, furrows appearing between his brows. He scratched the back of his neck, his face reddening. The rest of us gave him questioning looks, but all he did was point vaguely at the entrance. The curtains were drawn, and it didn’t look like anybody was there.
“What’s wrong?” asked Hawk, brandishing his bow as his gaze darted over the shadows between the trees. Spike lifted his head, taking a whiff of whatever Doc had been scenting. His face also reddened, and he shot a look at Hawk.
“Eugene, I think we’ve got a situation here.”
“What? What is it?” I demanded. Paused. “Eugene?”
“Yeah,” said Hawk, grimacing. “That’s my real name. Just call me Hawk, okay?”
I shook my head and turned back to Spike. “What’s the problem?”
Spike didn’t look at me, gesturing vaguely at the cabin as the Were-python had. Doc wasn’t any help either; he’d backpedalled, scrubbing his mouth with the back of his hand. Hawk kept looking around for a threat, his bow drawn, clearly frustrated and unnerved at the lack of answers from his friends.
Figuring we weren’t going to solve anything by waiting around, I rolled my eyes, threw my hands up, and stalked to the door. It opened easily under my touch.
At first, I wasn’t sure exactly what I was looking at. There were clothes everywhere, strewn over furniture and the floor, some tangled in the bedding. On the bed, though, that’s the thing that my brain didn’t want to process right away.
The tangle of arms and legs wasn’t the issue. Nor the obvious scents in the air, strong enough that my weak human senses could pick them up. Even the sound effects which, given the activity taking place, were not all that surprising.
It was the tattoo. The swirling tattoo of a Chinese dragon coiling down the bare right ass-cheek and across the hip of the man, clearly visible considering the position he’d taken over the woman sprawled beneath him on the bed.
Chaz’s tattoo.
“What the blue flying fuck?!” I hollered, stalking forward.
The woman screamed, and Chaz twisted around, then promptly scrambled back on the bed, disengaging himself. He grabbed for the nearest pillow, hurriedly covering his groin. “Shia, I—”
“What the fuck?!” I cried again, stopping in my tracks as Kimberly drew herself up, yanking the covers over her breasts.
“Shia, please—”
“What the fuck is this? What in the fucking hell is this, Chaz?”
“What the hell do you think it is?” Kimberly screeched, throwing one of the pillows at me. “Get out!”
I turned on her, and she shrank back at the rage twisting my face into a hateful scowl. It didn’t take me long to turn that bottomless hatred back on Chaz. He had the gall to gesture at me to calm down with one hand, even while he used the other to conceal his privates.
“Shia, please, let me explain—”
“You fucking bastard,” I cried, the first prick of tears stinging their way in a hot trail down my cheeks. I sensed the Nightstrikers creeping up behind me, their frames shadowing the doorway. Chaz barely paid them a glance; his attention was focused entirely on me. “You cheating, lying son of a bitch. How could you do this to me?”
“What the hell did you expect?” Kimberly growled, scooting back against the headboard. “You don’t put out; you leave him hanging—you didn’t leave him with a lot of options.”
“Shut up!” Chaz and I both shouted at her at once. She complied, folding her arms across her chest and sullenly glaring at me.
Chaz hastily filled the crackling silence. “Shia, I’m sorry. I know this looks bad, but it’s not what you think! I still love you—”
“The hell you do!” I exploded, grabbing the nearest item to hand—a mug on the table—and hurling it at him, sending the coffee inside spilling over the sheets. He barely managed to deflect it, the porcelain shattering as it hit the floor. “You don’t fuck around on the side when you love someone, you fucking asshole!”