by Amelia Jade
Mila sank back onto the counter, spreading her arms wide as she relaxed.
The empty glass she’d set down earlier was swept away from her, and before Mila could react, it tilted over the edge and crashed to the floor below, exploding into a thousand little pieces.
Pierce shot up from between her legs, and their eyes met. For just a single, brief second, Mila saw the man she’d come across that morning on the path, and not the one she’d had a connection with. It was a single fleeting moment, but it was enough. Suddenly she had no idea why she’d been letting him do what he was doing.
Mila wrapped her robe tightly and snapped her legs closed, looking around in a panic, both because of the broken glass, and because of what had just happened.
What have I done?!
Her face burned with embarrassment as she realized how thoroughly her hormones had infiltrated her, making her do something she shouldn’t have.
I barely knew him, and now he’s seen my most intimate areas. Oh shit, and I went down on him and—
Mila shook her head. What was he going to think of her now? She’d just given herself up to him at the slightest touch, unable to resist. Pierce must think of her as some sort of easy target, willing to just let him do what he pleased to her.
Were all shifters like this, she wondered? Did they have such a power over human women? Mila had heard that they were all unnaturally gorgeous, and knew that a number of women who claimed to have slept with one were overwhelmed by their looks and sheer sexuality. Is that what had happened to her?
Pierce, for his part, was looking confused at the sudden change in her, but he seemed wise enough not to come closer.
“I need to go,” she said.
He nodded, “I know.”
Mila looked around. There was glass everywhere on the floor, including between her and the way out.
Pierce followed her gaze.
“Um,” she said awkwardly.
“I’m not going to try anything,” he said, and stepped forward.
“What are you doing?” she asked and slid away from him on the counter.
Pierce winced and flinched, and she thought she’d hurt him by moving away. It surprised her that she felt bad, but then he glanced down, and she realized he was walking over the glass shards.
“Pierce,” she protested, but he just smiled.
“This is what I can do,” he said, then reached forward and before she could protest, picked her up, carried her easily across the floor, and set her down out of reach of the shattered glass.
“Are you okay?” she asked, noticing some blood on the floor.
He waved it off. “I’ll heal up in a few seconds once I get the shards out of me. No need to worry.”
Mila bit her lip, not sure what to do.
“Go,” he urged, resigned to the evening ending that way it seemed. “I’ll clean this up.”
“Are you sure?” she asked, desperately wanting to let him, and yet feeling horrifically guilty for the way she was acting at the same time.
“Yes,” he said, his voice hardening just slightly. “Go, I’ll be fine, I promise. It only hurts a bit.”
Mila nodded hastily and retreated up the stairs.
It was only long after she got back in bed that she realized she wasn’t sure whether Pierce had been referring to the glass, or her rejection of him.
Chapter Eleven
Pierce
He took his time cleaning up the glass, finding a broom and pan hidden under the sink that he could use to sweep it up. He first cleared the open floors. Then he gently moved the stove and swept under there, and then followed up with the fridge, ensuring he got into every corner he could. The last thing he wanted was Mila slicing her foot open on a shard he’d missed.
She couldn’t heal like he could, so it was paramount he was thorough.
Pierce healed easily from flesh wounds. The skin on the bottom of his feet was already sealed and freshly pink, even though one piece had actually dug fairly deep into his sole.
Almost as deep as her rejection had dug into his soul. But Pierce didn’t allow himself to dwell on that as he dumped the last remains of the glass into the little garbage bin and hung the brush and pan back up on their hooks. It was his fault, after all, that things had gone the way they did. His fault, that Mila now looked at him as if he were a stranger.
He’d seen it, the recognition in her eyes as the sound of the glass smashing had broken the spell over the two of them. Before she’d looked at him not with adoration, but with a certain wide-eyed enjoyment. But at that moment, she’d looked at him with eyes that didn’t see the him she knew. All she’d seen, he was positive, was the random stranger she’d stumbled over while out for a jog.
It unnerved him, and if he were ever to admit it to anyone, it hurt him as well.
“Which is absolutely stupid,” he told himself firmly.
Not only had she just met him this morning, but the same applied in reverse. They’d known each other for like fifteen hours. And yet he’d let himself give in and abuse the physical attraction she obviously had for him, twisting it to his own advantage. Yes, he’d obviously not held back in making sure she was pleasured, but Mila had been the one to pull away earlier, to say no.
And Pierce hadn’t respected that when they’d found each other later that night. He should have stopped it the moment their fingers touched over his glass, which thankfully he’d set onto a different part of the counter and was still there. Pierce downed the water in one chug, then bent over and pulled his boxers back on, his partially-hard cock forcing the front out in a tent.
Well that’s just annoying.
He knew it wouldn’t go away unless he did something about it. The smell and taste of Mila was just too fresh for him to calm right down, even with the cold shower she’d metaphorically dumped over him. But he wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t in the mental mood anymore.
He wandered back downstairs, noting that Ellie was now long gone, leaving him alone once more.
With a heavy sigh borne of regret at his own actions, Pierce curled up on his side on the carpet and attempted to sleep.
***
Once he awoke the next morning, he still didn’t feel any better about himself. In fact, if anything, his dreams had amplified his guilt, making it worse once he regained his senses.
He stretched, though despite the less-than-ideal sleeping conditions, he wasn’t sore. The low ceilings and lack of windows in the area of the basement he occupied, along with the exposed foundation walls, all served to give the place a cozy feel. It was as close to a cave as he could get, and his bear had found it intensely satisfying compared to any of the other options immediately available to him. Although it had taken him some time to calm down, once Pierce had gotten to sleep, he’d slept peacefully.
Which is good, because it’s a whopping 7:00 a.m.
He headed for the stairs, but paused hesitantly. Looking up at the door, he wondered if he could handle it. The press of the city and the concrete jungle that was the human world.
Pierce braced himself for the anxiety and tenseness to return, to flood his refreshed body and begin to work him over once more. Then he took a step. Almost immediately he felt his bear realize what was happening, and as he climbed the stairs, the feelings grew in strength.
That wasn’t the same as saying they become overwhelming, however. It was certainly stronger once he reached the top, there was no denying that. Pierce could feel the world around him pressing in, but it was subdued, far less than it had been the day before.
Am I just getting used to it?
Even as he thought that though, he realized that wasn’t accurate. It would take longer than a few hours for his bear to get used to the idea of being in the city. No, it was a much simpler answer.
Last night Mila had helped reduce his stress levels. Inadvertently, perhaps, but Pierce had noticed that whenever she was close, or if he could listen to her voice, it ha
d served to soothe him, to ease his troubles.
It appeared that becoming intimate with her helped as well.
Not that I’m likely to find out anytime soon, but I wonder how having sex with her would affect things…
He shrugged that idea aside, well aware that it was going to be a lengthy process for him to re-establish any sort of trust from Mila. He had broken that more completely than the glass the night before, when he hadn’t stopped himself for her.
He berated himself some more to ensure that he never forgot his mistake and how it had not only cost him, but had also hurt her. He emerged into the kitchen, the room infused with an orange light that filtered through the white blinds on the windows at the back of the house.
A long listen told him that Mila was still in bed. Lifting his head, he tested the air, but that only confirmed the lack of a fresh scent from her. She hadn’t gotten up and left the house already either. The real question was if she was still passed out, or if she was up and just hiding away from him.
There’s one way to find out.
Pierce began to rummage around in the fridge, and upon finding the ingredients he’d hoped, set to with some gusto.
He was humming a lively drinking tune, his foot bouncing in time with it as he worked, when he first became aware of the noise.
The noise on his lips died as he focused. There was a slow drag of material, followed by a pause, then another drag. If he didn’t know better, he’d say it sounded like a zombie shuffling along.
Mila appeared around the corner, sweatpants on and the hood of her sweatshirt pulled low over her face as she shuffled slowly forward.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
Pierce looked at her, then looked at what he was doing, then back at her. “Does human eyesight not function in the morning?” he asked quizzically.
“What?” she almost snapped at him.
“I’m making breakfast,” he explained. “I thought it was obvious.”
Mila just made a noise.
“Did I do something wrong?” Pierce looked around the kitchen, wondering where he’d gone wrong.
Another unintelligible noise came from Mila, and then she shuffled across the kitchen and punched a button on a machine.
“Oh,” Pierce said as he realized what it was all about.
Ignoring her, he turned back, flipping the bacon even as he depressed the button on the toaster. A knife slid from the block and he began to cut off some slices of cheese, enough for each of them.
Mila just leaned against the cupboard, resting her forehead on it as she waited for her task to be done. Pierce, for his part, wisely didn’t say anything or try to get her to move. Basically he did his best to ensure she literally had to do absolutely nothing.
It was the best tactic.
Chapter Twelve
Mila
The food smelled wonderful.
She knew that, on a basic level. Logic told her that she loved everything about what Pierce was making for them. Even some part of her brain accepted it and was salivating at the prospect.
But that part was firmly locked away for the moment, and she’d learned from a lot of hard practice that it wouldn’t be allowed out until something else happened first. So instead of trying to be something she wasn’t, she dozed lightly against the cupboard like she did most of the rare mornings she spent at home.
The fumes hit her first, her nostrils twitching as they slowly inhaled.
Almost there.
The stream of water slowed, and then at last the machine gave off a little ding to let her know it was done.
Finally.
She’d have said the word out loud, but her mouth would only do one thing just then, and it wasn’t speak.
It also most definitely was not what it had done the last time she was in the kitchen. Blearily Mila swatted a cupboard open and snagged a mug. Forcing herself just a little more awake, she carefully grabbed the pot and began to pour the fresh coffee into her favorite mug. It wasn’t anything special, but it had a unicorn on it, and Mila may or may not have had a secret obsession with unicorns.
There was a reason she hadn’t given Pierce a tour of the upstairs of her house.
Blowing on the coffee, she took another deep sniff, just the scent alone helping to wake her up. A few moments later she judged it cool enough to drink, and the first sip of her coffee—black and unaltered, just the way she loved it—slid down her throat.
Mila knew she was considered a heathen outcast to most coffee drinkers, but this was just the way she liked it best, and nobody was going to change her. They’d tried, and found their efforts pointless.
“Ahh,” she said, the first intelligible sound that had come out of her mouth. Part of her vaguely recalled speaking to Pierce, but only barely.
“Feeling better?” the towering shifter asked as he arranged the food on the plate.
Mila was too obsessed with having another few dozen sips before she actually focused on it.
“Hold that thought,” she said, and took another sip. Then another.
The caffeine was rushing through her system now, unlocking one part of her after another from the deep freeze of sleep.
Sip.
“Yes,” she said, finally looking up to meet his eyes. “Actually, I am now starting to feel better.”
“I can tell. You’ve gone from corpse, to zombie, and now you’re halfway to human again. What a transformation,” he joked.
Mila wasn’t awake enough to laugh, but she did bestow a smile upon him, letting Pierce know she found it humorous and wasn’t insulted. Her face in the morning could definitely give off that vibe if Mila wasn’t careful, she’d learned.
“You made breakfast?” she asked, realizing the instant she spoke how dumb the question sounded.
But Pierce just laughed. “Finally got enough caffeine to come to that conclusion did you?”
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe.”
“Good timing,” he said, lifting plates into his hands and turning on the spot. “Because breakfast is ready.” He moved past her, careful to maintain as much distance as possible she noted.
If only we could have done that last night…
Pierce then set the plates on opposite ends of the table, once again giving her as much space from him as possible.
Does he really want to be around me that little? Have I lost so much respect in his eyes that he can’t stand to be near me?
Mila hung her head and headed over to the table. “Thank you,” she said, trying to keep any emotion from her voice.
Just blame it on the lack of sleep, that’ll be better.
“I’m just a disaster in the morning until I’ve had caffeine. Never been able to wake up.” She gave him a glare. “Unlike some people I know.”
Pierce just beamed, letting her fake anger slide right off him. “It’s an animal thing,” he joked, winking at her. “So don’t feel too bad about it.”
Mila rolled her eyes as she eyed the plate in front of her.
“Homemade bacon and egg on an English muffin?” she asked. “I normally only get this from—”
“And cheese,” he said proudly, interrupting her. “Delicious cheese.”
“What, do shifters have some sort of obsession with cheese too?” she asked laughingly at his insistence.
“Not that I’m aware of. I’m pretty sure it’s just me,” he admitted, taking a bite into the makeshift sandwiches.
“Well, I owe you a big thanks for that,” she said, and then glanced back into the kitchen at the floor. “And for cleaning up that glass. I owe you big time.”
Pierce waved her off, shaking his head as he ate. “Nonsense. You’ve been more than gracious as a host. Hell, being a host just to begin with was unnecessary. So, consider it the cost of feeding me and giving me a place to crash.”
She’d started to blush at his insinuation of her actions the night before, but he kept on talking as if he
had been talking about her other actions all along. There was no awkward pause or suggestive gaze; not even his tone changed. He was pretending it never happened.
Mila wanted to thank him, but part of her was also hurt at the idea that he could just so easily cast what had happened aside. Had she not been that good after all? He was a shifter…maybe he’d just had far better than her? He was good-looking enough to have gotten around enough.
“Okay,” she mumbled, burying herself in the food until the topic changed.
“So, what’s the deal for today then?” he asked. “I need to start looking for my brothers.”
“The first thing you need to do,” she said, finishing the first of her little sandwiches, “is get a haircut.”
Pierce shook his head. “No, I think I’m good there.”
Mila gave him a sarcastic look. “Pierce, whoever took your brothers likely doesn’t want to be found. Which means they probably have people looking out for someone poking around in their business. You stick out like a sore thumb with both your size, and your ugly-ass haircut.”
He leaned back slightly, looking hurt. “Do you really think I look that bad?”
“Underneath?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady as she reminded herself of just how good he looked. “No, you’re fine. But the hair needs to go, and your beard needs a trim. Not much, but just a little.”
Pierce popped the last bite of his second sandwich into his mouth and looked contemplative. While he thought it over, Mila turned her voracious attention to the remaining sandwich. It disappeared in what she was pretty sure close to world record time, and she sat back, chewing and savoring the taste of it as it went down.
“Okay,” Pierce said. “I’ll get my hair cut. But,” he said quickly before she could crow victory, “under one condition.”
“Which is?” she asked cautiously.
