Shifting Fortunes Ch. 03

3. Friends..or more?

Sam was doing the lunch dishes a couple weeks later while Jake was outside the cabin splitting wood. She didn't mind the domestic duty at all, because it meant she had a fabulous view of him working with his shirt off. Okay, she still lusted after his body, she admitted grudgingly to herself. More to grumble about though was that he'd never made a move on her. It frustrated the hell out of her but it also scared her to pieces that she even felt that way. Especially since she'd caught him looking at her oddly a few times - coincidentally it was normally when she was thinking about him and how he made her feel.

Sometimes it was like he knew what she was thinking and alarmingly at one stage she thought he could be a mind reader. She'd heard of those. One of the captor's men had mentioned killing one to the others, while they beat her and laughed. She'd tested her theory out multiple times though, taunting Jake in her head when he looked at her, making up things, even once picturing her going down on him (which, maddeningly, just made her blush crimson as usual), but she never got a flicker of recognition from him and so she finally gave up on that theory. No one could be that good an actor.

It was just...she sighed. The way he looked at her when she was thinking those things about him...it got her so hot- Christ, Sam! She angrily scolded herself, turning back to the dishes and looking away from his sexy form. He's obviously just not into you like that.

She was usually in control of her emotions and feelings; it was a shock and a surprise to be thinking about someone so often. At first it was depressing, then it was just damn annoying, so she'd tried concentrating on other things, like keeping the cabin tidy and cooking meals as she was a pretty handy cook she'd found out. She even enjoyed it. He said her venison stew was the best he'd ever tasted and came back for thirds. It had made her unnaturally pleased. That definitely confused her, but then again she'd never really had the chance to cook for anyone before.

She placed a clean cup upside down on the drainer and thoughtfully reached for the next dish. There was that one day though, when she had first worn her hair completely down after having washed it carefully and luxuriously in the shower. She hadn't felt safe enough to take the time to do so in a long, long time. God, it ranked as one of the best showers she'd ever had. Eventually she'd come out of the bathroom, still wrapped in a towel, her gold and straw coloured hair fluffy and dry, looking healthier than it had in a long time.

Sam paused with the dish in hand as she remembered, heat pooling in her belly at the memory. He had been standing in the lounge with a polishing cloth in one hand, his rifle in the other, and he'd just stopped and stared at her. Sam hadn't known what to do, she momentarily froze and blushed, their eyes locking. It was only a couple of seconds, but it felt like forever before she tore her eyes away and kept walking. She had held the towel close to her and continued across the hall to the room he'd given to her while she stayed; she'd felt his eyes on her the entire time. She'd closed the door quietly behind her, then leaned up against it, breathing heavily, ridiculously wet between her legs and not from the shower. Heart hammering, she'd pressed an ear to the door and didn't hear him move for a long time, but she was sure she'd heard a quiet click as the front door closed behind him.

Anyway, Sam thought restlessly, washing the final dish and leaving it to drain on the sink, he's obviously not that interested, she repeated. Her eyes fell on her hand, the bright red scar across the knuckles screaming at her; it was like a slap to the face. She had purposely kept herself shifted over so she wouldn't think of it, think of him, but with her sudden slip, it was now at the fore front of her mind again. As she watched, the scar disappeared, but the damage had been done.

All of a sudden she was back in the dark house, in the small, dark room he'd kept her in. Her hands rubbed at her wrists, eyes now unseeing. It was so cold, so cold all the time. She started to shiver. The leather bindings rubbed her wrists and ankles, making them bloody and raw, arms suspended above her all the time. She shuddered as she remembered hearing the echoing heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. It was the same time every night, spelling out the next round of torture he had planned for her. Maybe another would be with him. She prayed that it wouldn't be the blade again. She squeezed her eyes shut and put her hands over her ears.

"No!" she said angrily out loud. Suddenly she snapped out of it. The heavy footsteps weren't steps at all. It was just the axe Jake was wielding, thumping down on each piece of wood. She was trembling as she looked around in a daze.

The dark haze cleared from her eyes and she looked around. Slightly panicked and shaken, she hesitantly moved her feet and sunk down onto the couch in front of the fire place. Stunned, she realized she hadn't thought of Rutherford in nearly two weeks. She'd blocked him out, or thought she had. It was a shock to feel him come back to the surface; it had felt so breath-takingly real. Her heart thumped and her palms were clammy, hands kneading each other to stop the shaking. Was she really safe here? He hadn't found her so far. Maybe she needed to be on the move again. It just felt so safe here, but she knew she couldn't hide out in a cabin in the forest forever. Something would have to be done. But not right now, the peaceful side of her countered. Soon, though.

With a deep, shaky breath, Sam wandered over to the book shelf to see what he had there. It seemed like a good plan to distract herself, and so determinedly picked out a book on animal wild life. It was obvious why Jake had it here, and it interested her just as much. Taking it over to the worn couch, Sam started flicking through the pages, ignoring her trembling fingers. She experimented with just touching the picture and seeing if she could shift. The idea had her curiosity peaked as she turned a page to a zebra. She stifled a rueful laugh at the thought of Jake coming back in to see a zebra in his living room; it also felt like flipping the finger at Rutherford for telling her that shifting made her a freak. She hadn't shifted since the night she'd run from Jake. Still smiling a little, heart starting to steady now, she closed her eyes, touched the picture and thought of the change. Nothing. Slightly disappointed, she went to put the book back on the shelf. Worth a try, she lamented. As she placed it amongst the other bindings, she noticed that its neighbor was a book on human anatomy.

Interested again, an idea humming in the back of her mind, she pulled the book out and settled on the couch again. It opened instantly to a page of a particular piece of the male anatomy. Instantly she flushed, thinking of Jake, thanking God that he wasn't there to see it. She determinedly kept looking at the picture though, It's just a damn diagram. The idea that had pushed at her sprung to the forefront. Could she? She mused it over, the inkling of a smile starting to tug at her lips again. What was the point of being a freak shifter if she couldn't use it for her own amusement? It turned into a wide grin, teeth biting on her lower lip at the sly thought.

Then her smile faded. Actually she couldn't. She'd never touched one before, so how could she, er, grow one. Well, unless she took an entire male form of course, and when she took a male form, she usually didn't go groping in her pants. That particular thought finally burst through her defenses and she started giggling at herself as she remembered once again Rutherford's tiny penis. Dumb idea anyway, she smirked to herself, starting to feel more in control and like herself again, but it didn't stop her thinking about maybe one day getting her revenge. She needed a distraction and too late she realized that looking at parts of the male anatomy was not helping. She snapped the book shut and got up, leaving it on the couch as she drifted off to the bedroom with the vague coy thought of perhaps taking the edge off herself. The door on Rutherford had securely been sealed shut again in her mind.

***********

Jake suddenly turned from splitting wood and marched into the forest, his erection straining against his jeans once again. He had nearly finished the job, but he could smell her from outside. She was soaking wet. Jesus! he cursed inwardly, she really was testing his restraint and control. He knew her shoulder was almost healed but he knew she was still suffering emotional damage. She was just starting to trust him, and if he walked in there and threw her over his shoulder while he marched her to his bed, she'd never be able to trust him again. He managed a wry grin as he thought that she'd also not be able to walk again.

Humor soon lost out to frustration as he paced back and forth among the thick trees, well away from the cabin now and trying to cool down. He pondered her arousal. She had no idea he could smell her. He had no idea why he could either to be honest. Since glimpsing her arousal that first night, he had played with the idea that it was because he was a male and it was how he could find a mate. He'd only ever noticed one other girl's scent before, and that girl had been a shifter too. Hell if he knew really, but he wished that he couldn't scent this girl. It was driving him nuts.

His mind flashed to that day where she'd come out the bathroom only wearing a towel, her hair streaming like spun gold around her flushed face and green, sparkling eyes... God, if she knew how close she had been to having him pounce on her and take her on the floor in the hall, she would have been scared out of her mind. He'd had just enough control to get himself out the house and shift instantly into the tiger so he could run the hell away from her. He was shredding clothes at a ridiculous rate, he was going to have to go into town soon.

His breathing and heart finally calmed down from the vicious pounding against his chest; he realized he couldn't scent her from here and it was a relief and at the same time an ache. He wondered what she was doing. Probably finishing the dishes, or cleaning something else - she was forever cleaning since she'd arrived. His cabin had never looked so bloody clean. He hated it; he loved it, God he didn't know. She was making him crazy, and it was getting worse. His heart rate had picked up again and he cursed. Time for a run. This time he carefully peeled off his clothes and after changing into a small grey wolf, he scented them so he would remember where he'd left them; then he took off. A wry thought briefly flicked through his head that he'd never known the forest so well.

Soon the effortless thrumming of his paws turned into a soothing mantra in his head. The familiarity and freedom he felt whenever he shifted always calmed him. It hadn't always been like this, he remembered blackly. There was a time in his life when he had been scared of even trying to shift. His father had been like him, a Were shifter, but for some reason he had hated the fact that Jake had inherited that particular gene. Over the rhythmic pounding of his feet, Jake thought back to the day he'd last seen his dad.

Had to be at least ten years ago now. It was the middle of the night when Jake heard the commotion downstairs. He woke up with instant clarity and his instincts had told him to get the hell out of the house. He had quietly slipped out of his bed, hurriedly pulled on a jersey and track pants, before escaping out the second story window. As he landed with a quiet whumph, Jake snuck around to peer in the kitchen window. The lights were on inside, and he saw some black shapes standing on the floor. Instantly he ducked back down. Shit, they're all Weres, he thought, heart pounding.

There had been five animals that had no business being in someone's kitchen unless they were originally human. A big, brown wolf, a cougar, a panther and a completely buck naked man, obviously just shifted back from whatever form he had been in. The man's dark, stringy hair was down to his shoulders, so it obscured most of his face, but he had a distinctive tattoo on his right shoulder blade. He was holding a knife to his dad's throat. The others remained snarling, surrounding them both. What could he do? He was basically still a kid, his dad had never let him practice his shifting, and he certainly wasn't skilled enough to take down four-SMACK!

Oof! Jake slammed into something. Hard. Jesus! he cursed, so shocked he'd actually fallen out of his wolf form and sprawled on the ground in front of the tree he'd hit as a human. Well that was embarrassing, he rued, running a hand over his right arm which had taken the brunt. It really just made him angrier, but at least it had stopped him going down the path that led to nothing but bad things. He stood up, wincing, taking in the huge, resilient pine and glaring at it.

"Why couldn't you be another foot to the right?" he yelled at it, then immediately felt like an idiot. His temper was resuming at full tilt, and he suddenly remembered why. Sam. It was already pitch black out, and he'd been deep in thought, no wonder he'd hit the damn tree. He better get back, no doubt she'd have something to eat ready for them. His stomach snarled happily at the thought, but he just determinedly shifted into the wolf again and started loping back the way he'd come. Carefully this time.

************

Later that evening after enjoying another delicious meal she'd cooked, Sam excused herself early to bed. She wondered what was wrong. Jake had hardly talked to her all evening. He'd returned from his time away in the forest acting absent and distant. He barely made any eye contact with her. What had he been doing out there? Had she done something to make him angry? Had he found something out while he'd been away? He'd been gone nearly four hours and it was dark when he'd returned. Sam had nervously cleaned up after the dinner dishes and when they were all dried and put away, she made her excuse of being tired and took off to her bedroom. She found her thoughts drifting blackly again now towards Rutherford and her hand absentmindedly flicked over a cigarette burn on her arm that she'd shifted over. Jake's mood was catching. She needed another distraction.

Jake sighed moodily at the fire, wishing he could follow her, feeling bad for his behaviour at dinner. He knew she'd noticed, but he worried that if he said anything to her, the resolute wall he'd built would come crashing down. He frowned. He needed to stay focused. He needed to go into town the next day and for that he needed his wits about him. He didn't stray away from his cabin too often, but they needed supplies, they were burning through them twice as fast with double the occupants. And I need clothes, he reminded himself, looking down at his last remaining pair of jeans wryly.

He stayed up past midnight before retiring to bed, long past when Sam had moved from the bathroom to her bedroom. He had refused to look in the direction lest he be tempted again by her wrapped in a towel, his temper smoldering. He'd finally gotten into bed before remembering he'd left his shirt and his last fucking pair of jeans in the bathroom. Normally he would leave them there, but seeing how he had company now, he didn't want to make her uncomfortable if he came out of his room the next morning in his boxers. Damn fucking sensitive man I am, he grumbled to himself. I should get a fucking medal. Sighing, and thinking that his temper was really starting to get out of hand, he got back up and quietly opened his door again. As he padded quietly down the hall to the bathroom, he almost had a heart attack as he walked past her room. Was that-?

He could hear tiny moans; the thick, concentrated wash of her wetness almost floored him. Unable to help himself, he incredulously pressed his ear to her door, hearing the bed creaking gently, her muffled cries starting to come a little faster and suddenly he realized she was touching herself. Shocked and instantly harder than he'd ever been, his fingers had started to elongate into claws, wanting to rip the door off the hinges and storm into her room and take her. Instead he'd held onto his sanity and bolted quietly outside to her window so he could look in. He could still hear those quiet moans, coming in tiny gasps now, as he looked guilty into her window.

He was behind her, looking down onto her. The covers were thrown off and she was wearing a tank top and panties, one hand thrust deep between her legs, fingers moving frantically. Fuck! he silently screamed, his cock throbbing for attention. Her head and neck were arched back, her eyes closed, while the other hand alternatively flicked, twisted and tweaked her hard nipples through the thin cotton of her top. He was only wearing boxers himself, and he instantly slid his hand down inside them began to stroke himself hard and fast, matching her pace. Jesus she made him want to explode.

He watched her tense suddenly, gasping, her last moan louder than all the others but still quiet, her legs instantly clenching shut on her hand, her hand stilling on her breast as her fingers dug into sensitive flesh. He watched her shudder, toes curling into the bed and he yanked his cock out of his boxers and shot his seed into the bushes against the house. His eyes stayed glued to her as he felt faint and hid his growls of pleasure. He watched her remove glistening fingers from her panties, eyes wide as he saw her hesitantly bring them up to her mouth to taste herself. God help him. He turned away then and bolted into the woods, shifting into a lithe mountain lion, boxers tearing from him as he pounded away.

***********

Sam sighed contentedly and rolled over, pulling the bed covers back up over herself and snuggling into them. She hadn't masturbated in the longest time and it had felt liberating and delicious, feeling the orgasm snaking up and down her body. That was the second time in one day, she grinned to herself, remembering her earlier encounter while he was away. She had fantasized both times about Jake of course. She closed her eyes as she relived moments of her fantasy; he'd come bursting into her room, half naked, and without a word he'd thrown himself on her.

She stifled a smile into the pillow thinking how barbaric she was. She'd imagined him going down on her, something she'd never had done before. She'd also tasted the juices of her orgasm afterwards, feeling extremely naughty, imagining him coming up and kissing her, making her taste the orgasm his mouth had made her have. She squirmed just thinking about it, her panties pleasantly damp and the sweat on her body cooling, making her draw the covers around herself tighter.

She cocked her head up for one brief moment to make sure the cabin was still quiet and she hadn't been discovered, but all was well. Sam drifted happily off to sleep, in the back of her mind hoping that Jake hadn't heard her, and dreaming more delicious dreams about her newest fantasy. Tomorrow though, was her last thought before blackness enveloped her, I'll have to make a plan.