Book Two takes us on quite a different ride. Two years on from Gifted, Pearl and Sylar are asked to help The Kings Moon Pack. The oldest of all the Packs. Hidden In the heart of Kingshead, Montana, they live by the old traditions. But what happ...
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I swallowed to ease the pressure on my ears, to hear a pop. It was my first time flying, and so far—not too bad. Guessing travelling in a private plane had something to do with it.
Zander sat up towards the front. His eyes fell on me periodically, watching and probably reporting back to Hunter. He hadn't trusted me since he'd witnessed the very first experiment to extract my house guests—He'd shit himself along every other person in the room. And I was sure if it wasn't for Sage and Sylar, him and Hunter would have had me locked away in some dark dungeon.
Looking around, Gunner was sleeping... thanks to Sylar. As the plane had taken off, he'd freaked out. Honestly, it had to be a first, perspiration on his brow, his black pupils swallowing the whites of his eyes. Normally he was a cool cucumber.
But then Sylar had worked his mojo and settled him. Gunner would shit a brick if he knew Sylar had been inside his head. Usually threatening him not to use...as he called it his fuckedupcreepy shit.
But what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him. With his head rolled back, happily snoring, drool escaped from the side of his mouth. He looked kinda sweet... well as sweet as a scary hulking man with anger issues could look sweet.
Smiling, I peered out the tiny window. Below, I could see the patchwork of fields beneath us as we climbed towards the heavens.
Relaxing, one of the cabin crew came over and showed me how to operate the fancy media system so I could watch a film to pass the time. Toeing off my shoes, I flicked through my options and settled on a werewolf film... Underworld. Let's see what the crazy humans had thought up this time. Pressing play, they popped a soda in front of me. It was safe to say spending half a day onboard this thing wouldn't be so bad after all.
A couple of hours into the flight, we hit a pocket of air turbulence. My stomach rolled, sure the soda was going to make an appearance.
But that wasn't the worst part... No. Something shifted inside me, an awareness of fear shuttled over my skin.
They stirred, clearly it had freaked my squatters.
It's okay, nothing to stress about, no danger. Taking a few deep breaths, my wolf whimpered—she'd felt them too.
"What the fuck?" Gunner shot up in his seat, looking around frantically, wiping his mouth.
"Hey tough guy. Turbulence! We should climb above it shortly. I've read about it, don't stress it. " Sylar reassured him and I watched Gunner flop back down, his eyes fall closed, snoring again in seconds.
Damn Sylar was good... as long as he wasn't using his creepy mojo on me!
