by T. S. Joyce
She rolled over to apologize to Logan for the early morning phone conversation, but his side of the bed was cold and empty.
“Logan?”
No answer.
A pang of anguish jutted through her. She knew he was going to leave, but she hadn’t had a chance to tell him goodbye. And it was almost a tragedy she hadn’t had the opportunity to thank him for what he did for her last night. He probably wouldn’t be able to understand the depth of the emotional damage not feeling wanted all those years had caused, and Logan had sewn up a great deal of those open wounds with one night of intimacy.
Heaving herself out of bed, she brushed her teeth, showered in record time, then slid into some jeans and a green sweater that matched her eye color. With her hair pulled back into a damp ponytail, she slid her favorite snow boots over skinny jeans and strode into the herb room. Packing a black satchel with everything she thought she’d need, she turned her head at the fragrant scent of coffee.
When she made her way into the kitchen, it sat steaming in the pot, but Logan’s boots were gone from beside the front door.
Her heart dipped to the floor. The coffee had given her a moment of hope, but Logan was really gone.
Wait. She plucked the top sheet of the notepad from the refrigerator and read the scribbled writing.
Muriel,
I’m good for any favor you ever need. Here’s my number. Please call anytime. Even if you just need to talk.
The last sentence had been scribbled out, but she could still read it just barely. He’d signed it first name only and written his number at the bottom. She read the note twice more and folded it absently.
He must have been raised with sisters. That was the only explanation she could think of that a tough talking and acting and looking man like Logan would be so sensitive to offer an ear if she was having a rough time.
And last night, he’d made sure to take care of her thoroughly before he finished. She wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but it was the first time she was able to have an orgasm with a man. He’d probably ruined her for everyone else.
Grabbing her keys, she strode out the front door and stopped short.
Logan was looking under the open hood of her jeep.
“I thought you left,” she said softly. He’d hear it fine with his shifter senses.
“I meant to, but your abused jeep distracted me. Did you know that the damage on this side is crowding your internal parts? She won’t run long like this. I can see two hoses leaking from here and your belt is cut up in a couple of places too. Not to mention the damaged parts all near this area.” He gestured with black greased hands.
“How do you know so much about cars?”
“It’s what I did before I came here. I’m good at fixing things.”
“You’re a mechanic?”
“Among other things,” he said.
His eyes tightened with every question she asked. That answer was a cop-out, and she could see it clear as day. He was avoiding real answers to keep her distanced, the confounding man. After the night they’d shared together, what was the point?
“Can you fix it?” Boldness wasn’t her style, but she’d been affected when she’d thought he left without saying goodbye this morning. And honestly, she could use his help if he was able to fix her jeep for cheaper than the body shop in town could do. “I can pay you.”
Logan stared off into the woods with a troubled look to his dark eyes. “I shouldn’t stay here, Muriel. I can’t be seen with you.”
His admission ripped through her middle, and she swallowed hard before she found the words to respond. So he could fuck her, but being seen with her was out of the question? “Forget it then. Your bike is in the woods near where you crashed yesterday. I can take you to it, but I have an errand to run across town first.”
“You smell angry, or…” He flared his nostrils. “Something.”
She sidled around him and lowered the hood on her jeep. Without another word, she slid behind the wheel and started it up. To her surprise, Logan sat in the passenger’s seat and clenched the grab handle. He hadn’t taken his eyes from her face, and the traitorous creeping heat burned her cheeks under his scrutiny.
“I said something to upset you.”
“I have to visit a friend who was injured. You’re welcome to come along, but you’ll have to stay out of the way. And stop putting out your dominant bear shit. There will be an alpha there with an injured mate. You’ll set him off. And trust me,” she muttered as she pulled away from the house, “you don’t want to see this one pissed.”
“Bronson Cress?”
She slid a suspicious glance to Logan and gripped the wheel harder. “How did you know?”
“He’s the only other alpha around besides Marsden.”
Right about then, she turned onto the main gravel road and pulled the jeep around her mailbox that read, Muriel Marsden, in neat painted letters.
Logan’s jaw dropped and his dark eyebrows lowered as he arched his gaze to her. “You’re the daughter of Steven Marsden, aren’t you?”
She ignored him and hit second gear.
“I must seem like a real prick to you, don’t I?” he asked. “You let me go off about what an asshole your dad was yesterday. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Stifling a smile, she said, “Because I agreed with you.”
Joseph was a small town in the shadow of the Hells Canyon Mountains, and as she weaved through the streets, the townspeople were taking advantage of the fair day. Fall was transitioning to winter, but the weather was unseasonably warm, and the sun, unhindered by clouds, warmed the streets of Joseph. People bustled like busy ants near the general store, and Mrs. Janet at the realtor office was sitting outside her building, rocking in an old chair and warming her hands with a hot cup of Joe.
Cracked paved roads, tally mark light poles lining East First Street, and parked antique cars on every corner gave the town a homey feel. Muriel loved it. Everyone seemed to know their place here. Her bear required quiet, and this town was about as quiet as it got—if she ignored the rumble of unrest coming to a slow boil in Bron’s clan. Right about now, she was feeling pretty happy with her decision to stay rogue.
Logan watched passersby with a kind of rapt curiosity. Twice he waved to people who met his eyes, but they seemed eager to look at anything but him.
She got it. The man practically smelled like dominance to her, but the feeling would be different for humans. He would seem dangerous without them being able to figure out why. Meeting his gaze would feel like a risk. Something about his disappointed glance to the front window as he seemed determined not to wave to anyone else struck her.
No one had a problem with her in town. She was a shifter, sure, but her bear was pretty low on the dominance totem pole. If humans had any inkling that she was different, they’d never shown it in front of her. It must’ve been sad going through life wanting to connect as Logan seemed to, just to get rejected time after time. How long would she last before she quit trying at all?
“Do you live in a small town?” she asked, just to take the focus off of whatever inner dialogue was going on in Logan’s head.
“A big town, actually. I rent a house in Portland.”
“Oh, I think Samantha is from there.”
“Who is Samantha?” he asked, swinging his gaze to hers. His amber colored eyes were lined with the strange gold color of his animal, but just around the edges. The sun reflected off of them as his eyebrows furrowed.
Dominant or no, the man could stun her with a look. He probably had no shortage of females vying for his attention, and something about that sent a pang of burning regret through her.
“You okay?” he asked.
Clearing her throat, she pulled her attention back to the road. “She’s the mate of the new alpha. She’s hurt and I’m going to make sure she’s healing all right. We almost lost her a couple of days ago when alpha turned over from Dodger to Bron. Dodger tried to kill her.”
“Why?”
Out of the corner of her eye, Muriel could see him watching her with a dumbfounded expression. “What do you mean human? You’re saying she wasn’t born a shifter?”
“Nope. Up until Monday, she was completely and utterly human.”
Logan’s voice dipped to a disbelieving whisper. “How?”
“I turned her.”
“Does your clan approve of you bringing back the old magic?”
“I don’t have a clan.” She turned onto Bron’s gravel drive and downshifted up a hill.
“Muriel,” Logan said as she pulled around a meadow in front of Bron’s cabin. “Why are you rogue and living alone without the protection of a clan?”
Disapproval laced his tone and she jerked her head sharply toward him.
“Why are you a rogue, Logan? Everyone one of us on the outside has our reasons. It’s not a life I chose on a whim. Shit happened and I’m trying to pick up the pieces after some really bad years. Maybe I’ll pick a clan soon. Maybe I won’t. But the beautiful thing about it is, it’s my decision. And I haven’t been allowed to make my own decisions in a long time. I’ll be damned if I make the wrong one.”
Logan’s eyes blazed and he leaned toward her. “Why weren’t you allowed to make decisions? Did someone hurt you?”
“No. It wasn’t anything like that.” And it definitely wasn’t any of Logan’s business.
Muriel parked the car, shouldered her medical bag and escaped as soon as she had the keys pulled from the ignition. Logan followed close on her heels and grabbed her elbow in a steely grip. “You said you were mated before. Was it forced?” Desperation edged his tone, and when she looked into his eyes, they weren’t lined in gold anymore, but shining with the color like a damned star.
As she drew air into her lungs, the scent of animal almost overwhelmed her. He was angry, but for the life of her, she couldn’t fathom why.
“I can’t do this right now.” A stronger woman would’ve yanked her arm away and stomped on his boot. But she liked the warmth that seeped from his body to hers where their skin was only separated by the thin material of her sweater. He seemed angry for her, and it had been so long since anyone tried to understand where she’d fit into the awful situation that was her and Bron’s marriage.
His fiery gaze dipped to her lips and he took a step toward her. “You can tell me,” he breathed.
Right now, she wanted to. His chest heaving like he was controlling a great grizzly within himself, his grip on her arm tightening like he couldn’t let her go, and his eyes—those beautifully inhuman eyes were looking at her lips like he actually wanted her. Like he couldn’t help himself. And dammit, she’d wanted this feeling for so long. She wanted to tell him everything and hope he didn’t see her as a failure like everyone else did. It was so important that this stranger understand why she made the decisions she did.
He leaned closer, and cupped her face as he tore his eyes away from her lips. He looked tortured.
Maybe it hurt to think about kissing her.
Perhaps it hurt to think about not kissing her.
She didn’t know, but she’d never wanted a man to take a chance as much as she did right now. Flaming warmth trickled through her middle as she brushed her fingertips against his taut waist and gripped the material of his shirt. His throat moved as he swallowed, and for just an instant, he looked lost.
As he leaned forward, she held his blazing golden color until the last moment, then closed her eyes.
This kiss would be different from last night’s. It would mean more than just wanting to go to bed with her.
This kiss would prove he cared.
Chapter Six
Muriel opened her eyes. Logan hovered so close to her lips she could feel his warmth, but deep trouble pooled in his eyes. With a sharp inhalation of breath, he eased back and released her face. Fists clenching at his sides, he murmured, “You deserve better.”
Heat flared up her neck and landed in the tips of her ears and she dropped her gaze to his boots. Of course he would say that. He didn’t want to be seen with her, and now he didn’t want to kiss her if he didn’t have a shot at getting into her pants. He was being nice enough to put it on her, but she could see exactly what was going on.
She was so sick and tired of feeling unwanted.
The sting of rejection brought burning tears to her eyes, but she blinked them back and shoved past him. The middle stair had always creaked when she lived here, and she stomped it as she passed on her way to the front door.
Logan followed and brushed her lower back with his fingertips, then leaned against her. His lips so close to her ear she could feel his breath on the fine hairs there, he said, “I want you, woman. I just don’t deserve you.” His voice sounded agonized. “I can’t complicate your life like that.”
Every note and inflection of his words rang with such honesty, like he truly believed what he was saying.
The door lock snapped back and she gave Logan her profile. “Maybe I want complicated.”
Bron opened the barrier and she stepped through without looking to gauge Logan’s reaction to her words. He was a baffling man. He’d slept with her last night, and now his morals were keeping him from kissing her? What had changed from last night to now?
“Hey,” Bron greeted her.
“Bron, this is Logan. Logan, Bron.”
Bron’s bright eyes narrowed as his gaze landed on the shifter behind her, but whatever pissing contest those two dominants needed to get out of the way, she wasn’t sticking around to watch.
“Where’s Sam?” she asked.
“In the bedroom.”
She brushed by him and froze at the open doorframe to the bedroom she and Bron used to share. It was so strange to be back in this place that had been home once. She no longer belonged here. Now it was Samantha’s sanctuary.
The new mate of the alpha lay on the bed with her back to Muriel. With a soft knock, Muriel stepped inside sat on the edge of the mattress next to Sam.
A tear tracked down the woman’s face and dampened the dark hair that served as a pillow under her cheek.
Muriel rubbed her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything is so messed up.” Samantha wrapped her thin arms around Muriel’s hips and buried her face into her side. “The clan is revolting. They’re livid about Dodger’s death, and Bron is in the middle of the shit storm, and this is all my fault. I’ve mucked up everything.”
“Shhh, you haven’t. Things are hard now, but it’ll settle. It always does. It was Bron’s right to avenge you after Dodger tried to kill you. The clan will see that sooner or later.”
“It’s not the clan who started the uprising. It’s Dodger’s wife, Trinity, and I can’t even blame her. She lost her husband. Sure, he was a murderous prick, but she lost her mate. I can’t even imagine losing Bron.”
“Bron would never attempt to murder an innocent and put himself in a fight to the death though. Don’t waste your tears on Dodger. He doesn’t deserve them.”
“They’re going to unseat him, Muriel. Everything Bron’s fought for will have been for nothing. And now the shifters won’t have a Cress alpha this generation. What kind of a sign is that for our future?”
Muriel smiled at how quickly Samantha had learned that her future was now tethered to the survival of the bear shifters. She was one of them now, and her tender heart at their plight made Muriel respect her even more. “Stop fretting, you silly bear. Everything will work out. You’ll see.”
“Bron’s having a hard time with it all,” Sam said, beseeching Muriel with wide, dark eyes. “First with Trent’s death and now with Dodger’s betrayal and my injury. He’s changing every couple of hours, like he can’t control the bear anymore.”
Shit. Well, that was bad and Samantha was right to worry.
Donning her best poker face, Muriel lifted Sam’s shirt and studied the angry red scar in her middle. It was still ragged on the ed
ges, and rust colored smudges around the wound told Muriel she was still bleeding from time to time. She’d definitely wanted it to look better than this by now.
Samantha was a new bear though, and perhaps her shifter healing hadn’t kicked in completely yet. Or maybe the injury was just so bad that it had zapped her strength.
“You know,” Muriel said in a soothing voice. “As soon as we get you all better, it will be one less stressor on Bron and he’ll be able to focus on the other stuff. Healing needs to be your concern right now. It’s important for both of you. Bron just got you back, and almost losing you will have shaken his bear badly. He’ll ease up if he isn’t constantly worried about you anymore. If you smell like blood all the time, his bear is going to be like this.”
Muriel reached into her black leather satchel and pulled out a jar of the same poultice she had made for Logan. Slathering a generous layer over Samantha’s injuries on her stomach and back, she set the bottle on the table and gave her instructions to apply it several times a day until she stopped bleeding altogether.
Perhaps the pungent aroma would mask the scent of blood that was likely driving Bron’s bear mad right now as well. Dominant shifters didn’t do well with injured mates. The instinct to protect them tended to consume men like Bron.
Something just on the edge of her senses lifted the hairs on the back of her neck and she massaged it with her hand. From the frown on Samantha’s face, the new shifter likely felt it as well.
“What is that?” Samantha asked.
“Oh, no,” Muriel said, bolting for the door. What was it? That raw electric power that was stirring the air was the warning of two dominant males about to do battle.
“What the fuck is this?” Logan asked in a low snarl. He was standing across the living room from Bron, but that didn’t matter. The men could be locked up in a second if they wanted to be. In his hand he gripped a picture that used to hang from the wall near the office. In it, she and Bron were formally posed as a happy mated pair—a complete farce and all for show.
She rushed to him and snatched the photo from his hand, then tossed it in the wastebasket like she couldn’t get rid of the damning evidence of she and Bron’s fake relationship fast enough.
