shoved his hand in the brother’s face. Maybe he could have been more polite. Given the guy’s size and mood, it was probably advisable.
“You need help with some shit you wrote on your hand? Sorry, I don’t teach penmanship. Dig?” X moved to close the door, but SE put his arm in the way and followed him in.
“Look,” he said, “I wrote it down after I dreamt it. I do that sometimes.”
“What? Sleep?”
“No, I have dreams about things. It’s very rare, but it’s usually important. Like there’s urgency to it.”
After Xavier pulled on some sweats, the two started toward the tech room. When they walked in, SE immediately found a pencil and a piece of paper and rewrote the letters on it.
X rubbed his goatee. “All right, let’s have a look. Hmm. Definitely Mayan. I’m not as familiar with the Old Language as some shifters. We may need to look it up in the library.”
“Do you think we can find it online somewhere? If we need to use books, it’ll take too long.” If his hunch was right, this was the answer to the meaning of the vial and Ana’s phone message.
Ana.
Jesus Christ. He couldn’t even think about her without his pulse racing and his cock standing at attention. But it was more than that, and he knew it. He was starting to find himself wondering where she might be or what or even who she might be doing. He rubbed his forehead and tried to focus.
“It just so happens,” Xavier was saying, “we have a data base of Mayan vocabulary. It’ll take a while to run it through, though, and there are no guarantees.”
“Okay. I’ll walk down and make some coffee.” Translation: I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if I can get rid of the giant hard-on I’m sporting before you notice it. Not to mention the fucking headache ten thousand Advil couldn’t cure. No, there was only one cure for both. The kicker was, even though she was his, he couldn’t have her.
In the kitchen, SE went to the sink, turned on the tap, and threw cold water on his face. That helped for about ten seconds. The pain was getting worse, and he knew that his body was going to keep playing the discomfort card until it won. And then what? He hunted Ana down and jumped her again? Jesus. He never should have taken the female like that. It was totally disrespectful. At the very least, he needed to find her and apologize. End things right. But that was just another excuse to see her and he knew it. No—he wouldn’t see her again. That was the best thing for her. Even if his whole goddamn body went up in flames.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Evelyn O’Donnell arrived at the teen center in Dorchester, her VW bug protesting as she down–shifted into the parking lot. Man, she was tired. Between classes at the community college and working here at the center, she was beyond exhausted. She slammed the car door, hurried across the lot, and headed into the building, where she pulled her coat off as she walked into the new technology lab. God, she loved watching the kids on the new computers. And the tech lab was really hooked up. It had everything now—video equipment, tablets, laser printers. It was obvious the anonymous donor had spared no expense.
“Ah, Derek,” she said to one of the teens, “would you go down the hall and see if Chris can come and help with the overhead monitor? It’s not hooked up yet and the little guys will need it later.”
“Sure, Ms. O’Donnell.”
“Thanks.”
“Ohmygod, Evy, you’re here!”
Evy grinned at her friend, Liz, who always seemed to have enough energy for both of them. “Yep,” she said. “It’s three o’clock, and here I am. Poof! Like magic.”
“Hilarious. Listen. You are never gonna believe!”
“You never know. I might.”
“I finally solved the mystery,” Liz said, looking proud.
“What mystery?”
“The anonymous donor of the tech lab money.”
“You’re kidding, who?” Evy asked, suddenly interested.
Liz lowered her voice. “It was Troy
“You need help with some shit you wrote on your hand? Sorry, I don’t teach penmanship. Dig?” X moved to close the door, but SE put his arm in the way and followed him in.
“Look,” he said, “I wrote it down after I dreamt it. I do that sometimes.”
“What? Sleep?”
“No, I have dreams about things. It’s very rare, but it’s usually important. Like there’s urgency to it.”
After Xavier pulled on some sweats, the two started toward the tech room. When they walked in, SE immediately found a pencil and a piece of paper and rewrote the letters on it.
X rubbed his goatee. “All right, let’s have a look. Hmm. Definitely Mayan. I’m not as familiar with the Old Language as some shifters. We may need to look it up in the library.”
“Do you think we can find it online somewhere? If we need to use books, it’ll take too long.” If his hunch was right, this was the answer to the meaning of the vial and Ana’s phone message.
Ana.
Jesus Christ. He couldn’t even think about her without his pulse racing and his cock standing at attention. But it was more than that, and he knew it. He was starting to find himself wondering where she might be or what or even who she might be doing. He rubbed his forehead and tried to focus.
“It just so happens,” Xavier was saying, “we have a data base of Mayan vocabulary. It’ll take a while to run it through, though, and there are no guarantees.”
“Okay. I’ll walk down and make some coffee.” Translation: I’ll go down to the kitchen and see if I can get rid of the giant hard-on I’m sporting before you notice it. Not to mention the fucking headache ten thousand Advil couldn’t cure. No, there was only one cure for both. The kicker was, even though she was his, he couldn’t have her.
In the kitchen, SE went to the sink, turned on the tap, and threw cold water on his face. That helped for about ten seconds. The pain was getting worse, and he knew that his body was going to keep playing the discomfort card until it won. And then what? He hunted Ana down and jumped her again? Jesus. He never should have taken the female like that. It was totally disrespectful. At the very least, he needed to find her and apologize. End things right. But that was just another excuse to see her and he knew it. No—he wouldn’t see her again. That was the best thing for her. Even if his whole goddamn body went up in flames.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Evelyn O’Donnell arrived at the teen center in Dorchester, her VW bug protesting as she down–shifted into the parking lot. Man, she was tired. Between classes at the community college and working here at the center, she was beyond exhausted. She slammed the car door, hurried across the lot, and headed into the building, where she pulled her coat off as she walked into the new technology lab. God, she loved watching the kids on the new computers. And the tech lab was really hooked up. It had everything now—video equipment, tablets, laser printers. It was obvious the anonymous donor had spared no expense.
“Ah, Derek,” she said to one of the teens, “would you go down the hall and see if Chris can come and help with the overhead monitor? It’s not hooked up yet and the little guys will need it later.”
“Sure, Ms. O’Donnell.”
“Thanks.”
“Ohmygod, Evy, you’re here!”
Evy grinned at her friend, Liz, who always seemed to have enough energy for both of them. “Yep,” she said. “It’s three o’clock, and here I am. Poof! Like magic.”
“Hilarious. Listen. You are never gonna believe!”
“You never know. I might.”
“I finally solved the mystery,” Liz said, looking proud.
“What mystery?”
“The anonymous donor of the tech lab money.”
“You’re kidding, who?” Evy asked, suddenly interested.
Liz lowered her voice. “It was Troy
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