First Beast

by Faye Avalon

  How was it that all their problems seemed to fall away when they had sex? Here, they were compatible. Here, they saw eye to eye.

  So why did she still crave something that possibly didn’t even exist?

  Unbidden, her thoughts slipped back to that night she’d gotten lost on the moor. Why in heaven was she thinking about it so often these days? It was as if something called to her, made her more aware of her longing for what she’d experienced back then. Josh had been a young panther, he’d told her, running solo for the first time. Most of his kind didn’t experience shifting until they reached puberty, and they had to run with more experienced members until they learned the secrets and challenges of the moor.

  She’d been so desperate to learn more, to talk to him about that night and how much it had meant to her, but he was always circumspect. Probably because shifters weren’t supposed to talk about their experiences on the moor, especially not with humans.

  Pushing the thoughts away, she continued to soap herself, anticipating the moment the bathroom door would open and Joshua would stand there in all his glory and ready to play. With her free hand, she reached out and rubbed at the steamy shower screen, giving herself a clear window through which she would be able to see him. She could hear his footsteps—weird how attuned she was becoming to sound, scent and vision. It was almost as if her own senses had sharpened since she’d mated with a shifter. Perhaps that was a side effect? She’d have to check it out with Joshua. That was, if he’d be willing to discuss it.

  The footsteps seemed to wander from room to room, and she speculated as to what particular game Joshua was playing. Had he thought of yet another inventive way to string out the anticipation? To make her wait for him so that she was so hot by the time he reached her that she’d be desperate to jump him?

  She’d be damned if she’d call out to him, because that was probably one of his intentions. Instead, she kept her mouth shut and determined to play whatever game they were in the middle of. She unhooked the shower attachment, and held it ready at chest level, so that when he opened the door to the shower cubicle, she’d be in the perfect position to blast him.

  She bit down on her bottom lip. Denied the warmth of the shower water, she shivered from both the cool air on her flesh and the thought of what was to come. Knowing Josh, he’d be pissed when she drenched him, but a pissed and aroused Joshua was often a joy to behold.

  The footsteps grew louder and seconds later, the slow squeak of the door signaled his arrival. Since her peephole had steamed up again, she couldn’t see him, but smiled as the dark shadow approached the cubicle door. She hummed softly, sashayed a little, so that he’d think she was unaware of his presence and was simply enjoying her shower.

  The shadow remained outside the door, perfectly still and strangely menacing. Something niggled, seeming a little off. Did Josh seem taller, broader? She mentally nudged it away as a trick of the light, and possibly her own arousal. But goose-bumps lifted the tiny hairs on her arms and she gripped the showerhead tighter.

  Without warning, the cubicle door swung open and Talia had the breath knocked out of her momentarily as the cold snap of air whooshed into the small space. Narrowing her eyes, she raised the showerhead and let the spray hit Josh full in the face.

  “What the fucking hell?”

  The deep curse that echoed around the bathroom and the strong hand that clasped her wrist belonged not to her husband, but some brute of a man who towered over her while she stood naked and trembling.

  “Who…what do you think you’re d-doing?”

  With his free hand, he wiped his drenched face. “My question exactly, sweetheart.”

  His deep green eyes glared at her, his grip tightening around her wrist so that she dropped the showerhead to the floor. In the process, it sprayed them both with water, soaking his dark gray T-shirt and jeans. It earned her another dark curse.

  She tried to scream, but nothing came out. So she did the next best thing. She fought. Kicking, hitting out with her free hand, and meeting nothing but rock-solid muscle.

  “Get out!” She lashed out once more, tugging furiously at his grip on her and trying in vain to get free of him. Her breath backed up in her lungs, all her muscles tight and trembling. “Let go of me!”

  He wiped his face again, the lower part of it sporting dark stubble. Talia let her gaze skim over him, trying to memorize his features for when she had to give a description to the police. God. He was built like a truck. His neck alone would rival the span of her waist, while his chest rippled and heaved beneath the soaked shirt.

  Suddenly aware of her nakedness, she ceased her perusal. “If you don’t let go of me, I’ll scream. So help me, I’ll scream loud enough to wake the dead.”

  He only grinned at that, yet there was little humor in it. Feral, she thought dazedly. He reminded her of a determined predator…

  Bloody hell. Was he a shifter? A member of a visiting pack? It seemed to happen pretty frequently, but from what she knew, they didn’t engage in breaking and entering.

  The thought that this man might be a shifter terrified her. She knew of their strength, of their power. Of their primal charm and charisma…which had to explain the sudden resurgence of arousal that powered through her trembling body.

  “Go ahead and scream. There’s nobody around to hear you.”

  He was right, of course, and she shivered with alarm. Most of their neighbors were at work, and the house itself was on the edge of the moor, its strategic position giving the pack’s leader both status and tactical strength.

  She raised her chin and made herself stare him straight in the eye. “You don’t scare me.”

  Another feral grin. “Is that so?” He glanced insolently down at her breasts and the hard, pebbled nipples that rose to attention. “But it sure looks like I do something to you, sweetheart.”

  She gasped, and he abruptly released his hold on her and stepped back. Since he was still blocking her exit from the cubicle, Talia couldn’t reach the towel she’d placed on the railing outside without brushing her body against him. She crossed one arm to cover her breasts, then reached down to palm her hand over her pussy.

  When he glanced to where her hands were purposefully placed, she suffered the punch of his assessing gaze and felt more naked than ever.

  “If you leave now, I won’t report you,” she stated, thankful that her voice had regained some of its authority. “Just go.”

  In answer, he raised his arm over his head and grabbed the back of his sodden shirt. Effortlessly, he shrugged it off and dropped it to the floor.

  Eyeing his chest, Talia swallowed. She’d thought Joshua’s chest was ripped, but this man’s was something else. Scars scored the wide expanse of hard, solid muscle, crisscrossing as if someone had planned to create a specific pattern there. But they did little to mar the sheer masculine perfection of his upper body. Down the right side of his torso, a deeper, angrier-looking scar traveled from his ribcage to disappear beneath his jeans.

  So lost in her heady examination, she didn’t realize he’d moved closer to her.

  She jerked back, flattening herself against the cubicle wall. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  He spared her a glance. “Just undertaking some damage control. If my jeans get any wetter, I’ll need to ditch them, then there’ll be two of us naked in this shower.” He reached around her to turn off the faucet. “From your overreaction so far, I’m not sure you’d be too happy about that.”

  “My overreaction?” The absolute nerve of the jerk. “You’ve barged in here, threatened me—”

  “Wasn’t aware I’d done anything to you.”

  She half expected him to add yet, but he strolled across to the railing and picked up the towel she’d placed there. He tossed it to her, making her almost giddy with relief. If he was going to let her dry herself, surely his intentions weren’t quite as dishonorab
le as she’d feared.

  She wrapped the towel tightly around herself, keeping her gaze firmly on him. He went over to the rack and selected another towel with which he proceeded to dry himself.

  Her fears shot into orbit again when he positioned himself in front of the bathroom door, effectively barring her escape the way he had in the cubicle. Gingerly, she stepped out. If she could at least get access to the bathroom cabinet, she might be able to select something to use as a weapon.

  “What’s your name?”

  The question took her by surprise and she jerked her chin toward him. “I should be asking you that. So I know who to report when I make my statement to the police.”

  Perhaps in retrospect, she shouldn’t antagonize him, but the nerve of the man. Breaking into her home, terrorizing her, demanding to know her name as if she were the intruder.

  He laughed. “And just how many arrests has old Bill Tucker made recently?”

  “You know him?”

  “Since I was a kid. And if we’re talking arrests, maybe I should be the one pressing charges.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Now will you please stand aside and let me out of this bathroom?”

  He threw the damp towel onto a nearby chair. “You’re not going anywhere, sweetheart. At least not until you answer my question.”

  Since he’d planted his feet and crossed his arms over his massive chest, Talia swallowed down fresh tension. “What…what question?”

  “Just what the fuck are you doing in my house?”

  Chapter Three

  The woman jerked back, her blue eyes widening. Caleb hoped beyond measure that she might let the towel drop so he could feast on her sumptuous body again. But her fingers tightened around the top edge of the fabric, and his hopes faded.

  With her long fair hair plastered to her head and those big eyes staring out at him, she looked like a stricken mermaid washed ashore on an alien planet.

  “Your house?”

  Caleb tightened his arms across his chest to stop himself from grabbing the damn towel himself. “That’s right. This is my house and I want to know what the hell you’re doing here making yourself at home in my shower.”

  She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his. “You’re insane. This is my home and I demand to know what you think you’re doing barging in like this.”

  Caleb couldn’t help but admire her nerve. The woman was gutsy, he’d give her that. Not a hint of fear in her eyes, just determination and a good helping of mad. It made him want to grin, but he wasn’t about to let her off the hook.

  This was his family’s house, had been since the nineteenth-century. On commanding him to leave for South America, the Principals had given Caleb their word that his chattels and position in the pack would be held in safekeeping, awaiting his return. It was a promise made to all warriors. With his father’s death during Caleb’s absence, the Principals would be tasked with running the community until Caleb’s return. Since the leader’s main role was to oversee financial, legal and administrative matters relating to the pack, skills for which Caleb had been groomed since birth, the Principals had the power to buy and sell property within the community. But they would never have sold off the leader’s house, and certainly not to an outsider.

  And this woman was most definitely an outsider. She was no shifter. He’d been close enough to know, and her scent and demeanor all pointed to his assertion being correct.

  He narrowed his eyes. “Why don’t you tell me how you came about this house?”

  “That’s none of your business.”

  “I beg to differ. But for the sake of convenience, why don’t we assume it is my business?”

  She continued to clutch the towel, her eyes darting around the room now. “Let me get some clothes on and I’ll prove it to you.”

  He wasn’t fooled by her suddenly cooperative tone. Once out of the room, and dressed, she’d no doubt make a run for it. He was far too intrigued by her to let that happen.

  “You’ll prove it to me?” When she nodded, he stepped aside. She walked past him to the door, but he thrust out his hand, stopping her exit. “But let’s just keep the towel on for now.”

  Although she swallowed, she kept looking ahead. He lowered his arm, and she all but ran toward the living room. He followed close behind, still sensing she would bolt the first chance she got.

  She snatched a bag from the couch and rummaged around one-handed amongst the contents. Obviously annoyed she couldn’t find what she searched for, she tipped the bag upside down and dumped the contents onto the cushion. After pushing aside various paraphernalia women always seemed to carry in their bags, she finally held up an envelope. “There.”

  He strolled toward the couch and glanced at the envelope. Talia Summers. Pretty name. Underneath her name was his address. “It’s hardly proof. If you’ve been squatting here, it’s easy enough to falsify an address.”

  She gave an irritated huff and in the process her fingers slackened around the top of the towel. It slipped down a measly couple of inches before she yanked it back, but at least it gave him an extra flash of those plump breasts. His cock hardened. Shit. He needed a woman. It had been forever since he’d sunk into warm, wet female.

  “Now it’s your turn.” Her curt demand pulled him back from his erotic musing. “Why don’t you try and prove to me why you think this is your house.”

  Her haughty tone did little to quell the hard-on he currently sported, or to make him want to keep from grabbing her and satisfying the need that she pulled from him. He wasn’t sure why he wanted her quite so badly. If it was simply sexual tension, he could alleviate his suffering with a trip to Bodmin or Truro, where he could seek out any number of lady friends for a satisfying romp. No doubt one of them would be up for giving him a welcome home party.

  He frowned. It seemed he needed more. And right now, more appeared to be this woman standing in front of him with her chin raised in defiance.

  Fuck. He must still be suffering the effects of the drug administered to him in the jungle. Of all the humiliations he had suffered in captivity, that was one of the worst. He hated being out of control, not being in charge of his own faculties, his own destiny.

  He gritted his teeth against the fresh surge of anger that stormed through him and walked toward the drinks cabinet. After selecting a tumbler from his late mother’s crystal collection, he pulled out a bottle of Scotch.

  “Hey. What do you think you’re doing?”

  Ignoring her, he poured whisky into the tumbler and took a healthy swig. He closed his eyes for an instant as the warmth of the liquid eased his throat. Momentarily, he was taken back to the last drink he’d shared with his father, from the same bottle of Scotch he sampled now. Shit. He wished his old man was still around. That he hadn’t died before Caleb had the chance to get home and say goodbye.

  After another swig, he turned back. “So, Talia Summers, what exactly are you doing here? And cut the bullshit. I’m fast losing what little patience I was born with.”

  With another huff, she yanked the towel until it was almost up to her neck. His initial disappointment was allayed by the fact that the action gave him a better glimpse of her thighs.

  He cursed himself for throwing her such a large fucking towel.

  She narrowed her pretty blues at him. “When this is finally sorted and you realize you’re in the wrong and you’ve broken into my home, I’m going to see to it that you’re charged to the full extent of the law.”

  Sipping his drink, he moved across to her. “Tough words from a female standing there with only a towel to cover her many assets.” Punctuating his words with an insolent perusal of her luscious body, he enjoyed the spear of color deepening her cheeks.

  He took another step forward. She took one back. “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  While Caleb enjoyed a challenge, and the ga
mes lovers played, he didn’t partake of terrorizing women. And right that moment, it seemed Ms. Talia Summers was battling fear. It shocked him a little, seeing as she’d been ready to stand up to him before that. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m not in the habit of forcing myself on women.”

  “Then why don’t you get out?”

  “I thought we’d already established that.”

  “Look, what further proof do you want that this is my house? That I live here?”

  He sipped his drink again, before looking around the room. Spotting a selection of photographs on the side table, he wandered across to them. He put down the glass and picked up a photo of Talia in a pretty cream suit. She held a bouquet of flowers and smiled out at the camera.

  “There, you see?” she said from behind him. “That’s a photo of me on my wedding day. I’d hardly have a photo like that in a house that didn’t belong to me, would I?”

  Her last few words were muffled, seeing as his head was currently reeling from her revelation. She was married? Shit. That was one equation he hadn’t considered.

  Here he was standing in the living room with a woman clad only in a towel causing him to sport the biggest hard-on going. And she was married.

  Fuck. He really needed to get laid, and soon.

  It didn’t help his predicament when she walked over to him and selected another photo. She thrust it in front of him. “My husband. Do you want any more proof?”

  Caleb took the photo and stared down at the happy couple. His gut clenched. “That’s your husband?”

  “Yes.”

  His fingers clamped around the frame. “What’s his name?”

  “Joshua. Joshua McLeod.”

  Double shit. Caleb sucked in a breath. Of all the things he’d expected on his arrival home, finding out that his half-brother was married—and to a woman who was most definitely not one of them—had not even been on the radar.

  He looked at her, narrowing his eyes. “I thought your name was Summers.”