Wren and the Werebear Read Free

plans to go out with a guy. To a movie. And, uh...dinner?" Wren smiled hopefully.
    "That's it. You're coming out with me to the charity cocktail thing. My date cancelled anyway, it'll be fine." Jessica shook her hair back and dared Wren to protest with her sharp glance.
    "I can't. I have work," Wren protested. "And it's cold outside."
    "You always have work. It's morbid, how much you work."
    Wren sighed but didn't disagree.
    "Get up, get into the shower. I'll pick out an outfit for you," Jessica said.
    "Okay. A warm outfit. Nothing too skimpy."
    Wren turned on the shower, draping her clothes carefully over the curtain rod before letting herself duck inside. The water was cold, and she rubbed her skin with the hard bar of soap quickly, rinsing off the suds. She leaned her head back under the showerhead and let the cool water run through her hair and down her back. Maybe the shifters had decided on a plan for the attack beforehand. No, that didn't make sense—
    Rinsed and ready, Wren turned off the water.
    Something green flew up and over the curtain rod, and Wren’s breath froze in her throat. Her reaction was instant and instinctive. One. Surroundings. She slammed her back against the shower tile and slid to the corner—Two. Weapon—grabbing the gun out of her jeans holster and—Three. Enemy. she’d already pointed the gun at the curtain before realizing what the green thing was.
    "Wren? Wren, you okay?"
    "Yeah," Wren said, her heard pounding hard. No enemy. She lowered the gun, her finger lifting off of the trigger. Goosebumps pricked the skin down both of her arms. "I'm fine. Thanks."
    It was a dress. She'd forgotten to lock the door—she never forgot to lock the door—and Jessica had tossed her dress over the curtain rod. That was all it was.
    Her hand was shaking as she flicked the safety back on her gun. She could have killed her roommate. Stupid her, forgetting to lock the door. She hated the vulnerability of showers, hated being naked. Hated being without her gun. It had been a while since the nightmares had stopped, but still she slept with the gun in the drawer hidden under her bedside table, loaded and ready should she need it.
    She dried herself off quickly and strapped on her leg holster before tugging the dress over her hips. It was way too sexy, the green fabric hugging her curves tightly and stopping well below the top of her cleavage. She pulled the top up and felt a breeze across her butt. She pulled the bottom down to cover her ass and one of her boobs popped out of the top.
    “This isn’t warm,” Wren called out. “And it’s too damn sexy.”
    “Too damn bad,” her roommate called back. “And don’t you dare put your hair in a braid.”
    Wren stopped, the braid already half done. She frowned and tossed a cardigan on to cover her shoulders. That was a little better. The snow had stopped weeks ago, but nights in D.C. were nothing to sneeze at. She ran her fingers through her hair, untangling the braid. There was no arguing with a fashion-savvy roommate over her hairstyle.
    Coming into the living room, she saw Jessica leaning forward to see what was on the television. She lunged for it, but her roommate had already seen what she was watching.
    "Why are you so interested in these old shifter tapes? It's morbid."
    Jessica sat down, patting the side of the bed, and Wren shoved her half-unpacked suitcase aside to make room. Her roommate unzipped a large pouch, revealing an assortment of makeup brushes.
    I like scary movies," Wren said, turning off the screen. "What can I say?"
    "Shifters aren't scary. They're morbid."
    Jessica began to dab makeup onto Wren's face. Wren scrunched her nose up and let her roommate work. The girl had been chosen carefully—she wasn't interested in politics or news, and she was an excellent screen. Wren would have preferred to live alone, but the CSE decided that this was the best cover for an assassin in retirement.
    At least Jessica could do her makeup for her. And