Riley touched my hand lightly, holding it steady as she began to spray my arm with antiseptic. The cool liquid formed a protective coating across my skin as it killed off whatever germs might be left. "It doesn't look like it'll scar," she said. "You're lucky."
Unlike you, I thought, my gaze drifting down her left arm. Not only did she have lots of scars and a missing pinkie, but she'd partially lost feeling in her fingers—all thanks to her years as a guardian.
It was part of the reason she'd objected to Liana and Ronan becoming cops—because she hadn't wanted them to face the hurt and scarring that she had. Of course, being a cop was far different from being a guardian, but I think she feared that might be the next step for them. They certainly had the skills for it—physically and psychically.
So did I—and it was a fact that hadn't gone unnoticed by the Directorate. If Riley ever discovered they'd approached me some time ago, I think she'd blow a fuse.
And I'd be dead if she knew that I'd actually considered the idea, ever so briefly.
But in the end, it had been a mix of vanity, self-preservation, and more than a little fear of what I might be getting into that had made me walk away. I might be able to fight, and I might have talents that could be more than a little dangerous, but there was no way I was ever going to end up like Riley—scarred, battle-worn, and, worse still, never able to fully escape the claws of the Directorate.
"There," she said, squeezing my hand before releasing it. "Get dressed, then come outside and explain, before Liander bursts."
I grinned and got dressed. The faint scent of vanilla and musk clung to the clothing, meaning the jeans and the beautiful pale blue cashmere sweater I was borrowing belonged to Darci, Riley and Liander's middle daughter—the only non-twin in their brood, and the only one who'd inherited Liander's silver coloring. She also happened to be the only one who was close to my size. I was several inches taller than Riley or any of Darci's siblings, and was more traditionally wolf-like in form as opposed to the lovely curves they possessed. Although at least I wasn't completely flat-chested, like most wolves—and Darci—were.
Once I'd pulled my own boots back on, I dumped the damp hospital clothes back into my pack, then grabbed my jacket and headed out. Liander and Riley were already at the table consuming cake, but there was a bottle of Coke and another slab of thick, gooey chocolate sponge waiting for me. I grinned and sat down, feeling like a kid in a candy store and not sure what to tackle first. In the end, the need for caffeine won out.
"So," Riley said, cradling her coffee cup between her hands as she studied me over the rim, "explain."
I did, eating as I went, telling them everything from the reaper and his quest for my father to the attack.
"I've never heard of a shifter being able to partially shift," Liander said with a frown.
Riley nodded in agreement. "It's usually impossible to stop mid-shift and retain characteristics of both forms."
I leaned back in the chair and lightly spun the empty Coke bottle. "I don't think these things partially shifted. I simply think they weren't able to take full form."
Her frown deepened. "Did they smell like shifters?"