Slate (Shifters Elite Book 2)

by Ava Benton

  It took all the strength in my body to lift my head even a couple of inches. When my vision focused, I saw the restraints tying my wrists to the bed. Three sets of restraints per wrist. Holy shit.

  There was a steady, high-pitched beeping noise grating on my nerves. I recognized the noise—it was the same noise I had heard on countless TV shows whenever a character was in the hospital. Heart monitor. My mouth was dry as sand—there was a tube running into my arm, delivering clear liquid. Saline. And another, delivering something else. I thought my head was going to crack open, it hurt so bad. Probably caffeine withdrawal, I guessed. How long had it been since I had one of my large, extra shot lattes?

  I looked around on the bed for a button to call a nurse. There wasn’t one within reach—it sat on the bedside table. I tried to free my wrist from the restraints but that was a waste of time. They had tied me so tight, whoever they were. The beeping from the monitor got faster as my heart started pounding. I was alone with no way to fend for myself. How would anybody know I had woken up? I couldn’t even call out.

  I didn’t need to. The door opened seconds later, and a man in a white coat strode into the room. The bright overhead lights reflected off his shiny head. “You’re back with us,” he murmured with a smile.

  “How long?” I croaked.

  “Save your strength.” He looked me over. “It’s been six days, Slate. You were touch-and-go there for a while, but you turned the corner last night.”

  Six days. I looked down at my wrists and tried to move.

  “Oh, yes. I think we can untie those now.”

  “Why?” I mouthed.

  His thin lips curved in a frown. “You do remember what happened, don’t you?” I nodded. The tiger. The bite. “Unfortunately, the disease was very far progressed in the shifter who bit you—we immediately picked up his body, based on directions your brother gave us, and have been running tests on it. It’s a good thing we did, or else other animals might have fed on it, and we’d have an epidemic on our hands.”

  He lifted my hospital gown, and I managed to raise my head far enough to look down at where I’d been bitten. It still wasn’t fully healed—the gauze pad he removed still had blood on it—but it looked much better than it had after the fight.

  “You had an extreme reaction once the illness hit your system,” the doctor explained as he cleaned the wound and changed the dressing. “The bite immediately became infected—there was a moment there when I thought we might have to excise the tissue. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that. But you experienced extreme rage, convulsions, seizures.”

  I felt like he had punched me in the stomach. No wonder my body ached the way it did—I had been fighting the restraints. Every muscle hurt like I had tried to lift a truck. Once my wrists were free, I flexed my fingers.

  “My family?” I whispered.

  “One of the nurses called your brother as soon as we saw that you were awake. They’ll be here shortly.”

  “Maggie?”

  He frowned. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who Maggie is.” He moved on to checking my fluid levels and muttering about having the nurse come in with fresh medicine, but my brain was stuck on Maggie. He didn’t know who she was. Didn’t she come with us to the hospital? I remembered being in the car with her. She was there during the fight, too.

  It was the longest twenty minutes of my life, waiting for Roan and the rest of them. They came in with huge smiles and plenty of relief. “You’re looking a hell of a lot better, bro.” Roan sat next to me and ruffled my hair like we were kids again.

  “Where is she?”

  Their smiles faded as they exchanged glances. I didn’t like those glances. “What aren’t you telling me?” I croaked.

  “Save your strength,” Drew cautioned. “Maggie never came inside the hospital—it’s not a human hospital, you know?”

  “The doctors here only treat shifters like us and don’t want humans becoming privy to their treatments. I don’t know. It’s the excuse they gave us,” Carter shrugged.

  “But she has her own issues right now,” Roan murmured. I looked at him, and his eyes were sad. “Her mom died the day after the fight. She texted me to tell me so. I haven’t heard from her since then, but when I went to her apartment yesterday to check on her—I thought you would want me to—she wasn’t there.”

  “Out?” I asked.

  “No. Gone. She left town.” He gave my arm an awkward pat. “I’m sorry, man. I hate to tell you this way.”

  She left? How could she do that to me? She said she loved me, but she sneaked out of town like a thief? I couldn’t believe that.

  Roan answered the question I hadn’t asked. “I talked to her landlord. He confirmed that she left. I’m really sorry.”

  “I guess with her mom gone, she wanted to get away,” Drew said.

  “Her job,” I whispered. “Her life. Why?”

  None of them could answer. I turned my face to the wall, and they eventually got the hint and left me alone.

  17

  Maggie

  I had been at the farmhouse for two weeks and already had developed a routine for my days.

  I woke up before dawn and took a long walk down the mostly deserted road which ran past the house. It led me to town, where I would buy a cup of coffee and a little something for breakfast. I didn’t need it—I had coffee at home—but it was nice to have a conversation. Not to mention feeling good about supporting the little coffee shop at the edge of town. I wanted to feel like I was part of something good.

  The walk home made me feel better about eating a pastry for breakfast. I normally had the coffee polished off by the time I got home. I would take a shower, then get to work on the house. Not that there was all that much work to be done, but nobody had lived there for a long time, and many families of spiders and other, larger creatures had taken up residence in the basement. I was too used to living in Florida to care much about insects and rodents, so it wasn’t scary. Hadn’t I worked with an overgrown rodent for years?

  By the time two weeks passed, the house smelled fresh again. I had aired it out and laundered the curtains and anything else I could think to wash. I had taken the woven throw rugs out to the clotheslines and beaten them until there was no more dust, too. It wasn’t easy work, but my body craved it.

  So did my heart. Anything I could do to forget what I had left behind was all right with me. I couldn’t help but feel enormous, crushing guilt for running off the way I did. He would see it that way, too. I had run away from him. It was more than that, but I would never get the chance to tell him so. Maybe that was the way it had to be. We were too far apart in so many ways, ways that mattered, to ever be happy together. And I knew I would never be able to refuse him if we were face-to-face. I could only hope he understood—and hope I would never run out of things to keep me busy.

  It was late one afternoon, and I had just taken my second shower of the day—all that work made a girl sweaty—and I was enjoying a glass of iced tea when I heard a car pull up outside. There wasn’t another house for a mile in any direction. I wasn’t used to company.

  I went to the screen door and looked out past the covered porch to see a familiar sight: a black SUV, pulling to a stop. My heart leapt. I should’ve known he wouldn’t let me go. And the part of me that didn’t want him to—it was a very large part—screamed with joy at the sight of Slate climbing out from behind the wheel. He looked just the way I remembered him in my heart, wearing a tight, black t-shirt and jeans that looked like they’d been painted over his thick thighs. My chest was tight, my hands shaky as he walked up to the front steps.

  He only said one word. “Maggie.”

  “You remembered,” I smiled.

  “How could I forget? I remember everything you ever told me.”

  “And you have your ways of finding a person,” I smirked.

  “Well, yeah. That, too.” He shrugged. “So sue me. I wanted to see you again. I needed to.”

  My heart swelled. “Y
ou might as well come in.” I stepped back, holding the screen door open. He crossed the porch and his large frame filled the doorway.

  “This is really nice,” he murmured as he looked around.

  “Not exactly a suite, but I’ll take it,” I laughed nervously. “Can I get you something? I have some cold brew coffee in the fridge.”

  “What do you think?” He followed me into the kitchen and sat in one of the little handmade chairs around table while I poured a glass and topped it off with ice. He gulped half of it down at once.

  “You’re a maniac,” I chuckled, leaning against the counter. It was almost like I didn’t want to get too close to him—probably because I didn’t know how he would act, and because I didn’t trust myself. I gritted my teeth and fought the need to throw myself into his arms.

  He put the glass on the table and looked up at me. “Why did you do this?”

  “Make cold brew?”

  “Stop joking.” There wasn’t even any anger in his voice. He sounded sad, confused. I could understand why.

  I looked around the room with its cherry-printed curtains and rooster everything—cookie jar, salt-and-pepper shakers, napkin holder, soap dispenser—and sighed. “I needed to come here because I wanted to be close to her.”

  “I’m sorry she’s gone,” he murmured. “I wish I could’ve been there for you when it happened.”

  I nodded, looking at the floor. “It’s gonna take a while for me to process everything.”

  “I guess so.”

  “I just wanted to be here, someplace that meant something. That apartment doesn’t mean anything to me. Hell, my job didn’t mean anything to me, not really. Not when I could be closer to what matters here.” I placed a hand over my heart.

  “How do you plan on supporting yourself here?”

  “It’s already paid off,” I reminded him. “Otherwise, I already have a job in town. Front desk clerk at the hotel.”

  “Oh. That’s good. I just thought you really liked what you were doing, is all.”

  I nodded, still looking at the floor. “Yeah, well, it wasn’t worth staying in that little cinderblock hell, and I couldn’t afford anything better.”

  “I get it.”

  “Do you?” My eyes shifted upward to meet his. “I don’t think I would.”

  “Maybe I don’t, then. Maybe I’m just saying things for the sake of saying things.”

  “At least you’re honest.”

  “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t have waited,” he said.

  “Until you were better?” He nodded. “It didn’t look like you were going to get better, Slate. I didn’t know what to do.” I held my head in my hands. “You were dying, Mom died, everything was falling apart all around me. I had to get out of there. I was scared to death after what I saw you doing that night, and I thought… Can I live with this? Can I live, knowing he puts himself in danger this way? I mean, don’t tell me you’ve never fought anybody before this, that you never had to shift into your animal form and fight.”

  “I have, and I probably will again.”

  “You see what I mean? That’s a lot to wrap my head around. And this time, it was for me. Me! You could’ve died because of me!”

  “Not because of you. Because of him, and what happened to him. For you. Not because of you.”

  “For me? That doesn’t make me feel much better,” I said, and my voice cracked. “It’s been torture, not knowing what happened to you. They wouldn’t let me see you at the hospital. Roan tried to keep me posted so I wouldn’t lose my mind, but even then, I just wanted to be with you. And I thought—I don’t know, that there would always be something coming between us. If you get sick, I can’t even see you in the hospital because you can’t go to a regular hospital. It was like this very obvious warning sign in front of me. And again, losing Mom threw me off-balance, too.” I turned away from him, looking out the window over the sink. “I know this all sounds like pathetic excuses, but it’s the truth. It’s how I feel.”

  “Do you still love me?” he asked. It took him a lot of courage to ask that question, I realized. He deserved my courage when I answered.

  I looked over my shoulder. “Of course, I love you,” I whispered. “That hasn’t changed.”

  “So, what’s the problem?”

  “The problem is that love isn’t always enough. Not when two people are as different as we are.”

  “There are all kinds of differences people can have. And they make it work.”

  “Is it even—I don’t know—legal for us to be together?” I asked.

  “Of course. And even if it weren’t, who cares?”

  “I care. I wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”

  “I think I’m the best judge of what’s right for me.” He stood and crossed the small kitchen in one long stride. “And what’s right for me is you.”

  It was so tempting. I wanted him so much. He made me happier in our short time together than I ever thought was possible. “How could we ever be together when we’re so far apart? I’m here, you’re in Montana.”

  “We’ll make it work. That’s the least of our problems.” He took me by the shoulders and turned me to him. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this. Us. Tell me we don’t mean anything to you, and I’ll leave. I’ll never come back.”

  “You know I don’t want that,” I whispered as a tear rolled down my cheek and I stared up into his deep, blue eyes. He had fought and killed for me and had almost been killed himself. I knew he loved me. I could feel it in his touch, in the way he looked at me, the way he said my name. And my heart would never feel complete unless I was with him. I knew that, too, since it had been almost physically painful to be away from him.

  “I love you, Maggie.” He brushed my tear away with the pad of his thumb.

  “I love you. I love you so much.” I tilted my head back to accept his kiss, and when it came I could’ve sworn my heart burst open. But it didn’t hurt. It broke open, and sunlight poured out, and joy and the certainty that he was the only man I would ever love for the rest of my life.

  I wound my arms around his neck, and my fingers curled into claws, gripping him tight. Holding him to me almost desperately, scared that he would disappear and it would all turn out to be a dream. Even so, I knew he was real. His heartbeat thudding against my chest and the warmth of his lips as they moved over mine, as his tongue thrust into my mouth and a groan rumbled deep in his chest, told me he was real.

  His arms tightened around my waist, and he lifted me until I could wrap my legs around him. The pressure of his straining bulge against my already hot, wet mound pulled a gasp from me, and I broke our kiss to throw my head back and take in a gulp of air. His lips slid over my throat, his tongue swirling, his teeth nipping. I groaned and whimpered and begged for more as he sat me on the table, then lowered himself over me until I was on my back and he was on top of me, the glorious weight of him, the heat of his skin and the strength of his arms and chest and back. I held his head close, skimming his ear and the side of his face with my lips, kissing and whispering that yes, I wanted him, I needed him. I loved him.

  I pulled his shirt over his head and let my hands claim what they wanted, running over his tan skin as he took possession of me with his mouth, peeling off my clothes and kissing every inch of skin he exposed. It was bliss—not just what he did to me, but giving myself over to him again. How did I think I could ever live without his big, skillful hands setting my body on fire? He lifted my hips and slid my jeans down, then cupped my butt and pulled me closer to his hot, solid dick. I rocked my hips over it and reveled in his groans.

  “So sweet,” he grunted as he lapped at my inner thighs. Fireworks went off behind my closed eyelids as he lifted my hips again to tear off my panties before sliding his tongue between my lips and burying it in my wet, pulsing flesh.

  “Yes! Yes, Slate!” I screamed, bucking my hips, grinding against his tongue as he lapped my clit. I held his head close, urging
him on, running my fingers through his hair and the tension grew, grew, filling me with almost agonizing, breathtaking pleasure until it all broke and I screamed one more time before the spasms eased.

  I heard his zipper, and the opening of a foil packet, and before my eyes were open he was parting my flesh with his thick, hot dick, and the spasms started all over again. I gasped in shock as another orgasm built on top of the first while he drove himself into me, hard and sure. I let myself go with it, scratching and clawing, gasping and grunting the way he grunted in time with every thrust.

  He slid his arms under me and lifted, and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders to hold on as he kept moving inside me. I used the leverage of my legs against his hips to lift myself up and slide back down, as fast and as hard as I could, while he pushed me up against the kitchen wall and took over. All I could do was give in, and it was all I wanted to do. I gripped him with arms and legs and he took me with harder thrusts, grunting like the animal he was. Something inside me responded. Something inside me absolutely loved it. I growled and bit down on his shoulder, and he rewarded me with a series of deep thrusts that sent me over the edge again. His skin was slick with sweat and it mixed with mine as we both built up to a shattering finish, screaming and roaring and gasping and coming down with a long, soft sigh.

  “This is my third shower today,” I giggled as his big hands glided over my soapy skin. “But definitely the best so far.”

  “You need air conditioning in this house,” he murmured.

  “I need a lot of things in this house. But yes, once summer comes, it’ll be unbearable. I have a lot of work to do.”

  “But you want to stay here?” he asked in a soft voice.

  Did I? Knowing he still wanted me and how much I wanted to make a life with him?

  “I do,” I announced. “I love you, and I want you, but part of my heart is here. I would always miss it.”

  He nodded thoughtfully, and I took my turn washing him off. It took considerably longer since he was considerably bigger and my hands were so small. Not that I minded. Any excuse to touch him was all right with me. When I reached between his legs and took his heavy dick in my hand, he sighed with a wicked smile. “Careful. You might be writing a check you can’t cash.”