by T. S. Joyce
“Uh, didn’t curiosity kill the cat?”
Anson’s smile grew Grinch-like. “I wouldn’t miss you.”
Kaylee huffed a surprised laugh. Rude man, but he’d always been funny. She remembered that part vividly. He’d had a good sense of humor, even when he was mad. In school, he’d had this ability to make people laugh, even on the days his eyes looked haunted when he showed up late for class. The girls had eaten up his no-care attitude, his wit, and his bad-boy persona, and at first Kaylee had pitied them, thought them bimbos for liking a boy with no drive and no future. She’d been on the honor roll, in all the clubs to try to get extra curriculars for her college applications, because all she’d wanted was to escape Covington and go to school in a big city, where she’d been convinced she belonged. She’d been so busy with her future, she’d forgotten to live in the moment. But when everything fell apart, for a little while her senior year, she’d fallen for the same traps Anson had set, just like those girls she’d pitied.
And she had paid dearly for that mistake.
“You weren’t the only one who got hurt,” she said before she could stop the words. She regretted them the second they slipped past her lips.
Anson froze, hands in his pockets, jaw clenched, muscular chest pushing against the thin material of his T-shirt, eyes pooling with some emotion that was completely unreadable to her.
She hadn’t meant to admit he’d had an effect on her, couldn’t add to her pile of regrets, so she rubbed her tight neck and gave him a lopsided smile. “That wreck hurt me, too.”
Anson blew out a laugh as though he’d been holding his breath. He chuckled as he rolled a shard of window glass in a small circle with the toe of his boot. “Good. You should’ve looked where you were going.” Like he wasn’t the one who pulled out right in front of her. He gave her a charming smile and then shook two fingers at something behind her like he was hailing a cab.
A tow truck slowed and pulled to the side of the road.
She’d expected one of Anson’s childhood friends to be behind the wheel because, really, she’d always expected him to stay in the area they’d grown up, which he clearly had, and hang out with the same loser friends. The second she’d seen him, she’d assumed he’d lived his entire adult life stagnant just like she thought he would. But the man who hopped out of the tow truck wasn’t anyone she recognized, and she would definitely remember a giant like him. He had a lithe gait as he approached, short chestnut hair, blue eyes, and a scowl that made her want to shrink away from him. He was handsome meets dangerous, just like Anson. Probably a shifter, too. Maybe a panther like the man standing beside her.
Man. It was so strange thinking of Anson as a man now. Any time her thoughts had strayed to Anson in the last decade, he hadn’t changed at all in her mind. He had stayed the boy, but as she cast him a quick sideways glance, she realized that boy was long gone.
Arden, her future arranged mate, hadn’t even asked if she was okay after the wreck, but Anson, her biggest childhood enemy, had not only checked on her, but brought her a napkin for her bleeding nose and called a tow truck. He had taken care of the wreck situation without asking her to do anything. It was nice, not having to make big decisions when she was so shaken up. It was also nice seeing Anson, who had been such a flake as a boy, so confident as a man. The tightness in her chest caused by guilt eased just a little.
He'd turned out okay.
The giant man was comin’ in hot, and she stumbled backward to get out of his way as he reached for Anson. She thought he would shake his hand, but he didn’t. He grabbed the back of Anson’s neck and pulled him into a quick, rough hug. Before he shoved him away, he ran his cheek against Anson’s and made a soft rumbling noise in his throat. Anson didn’t seem uncomfortable at all. In fact, he looked as though he’d done this embrace a hundred times, knew just what to do, and scraped his cheek against the man’s, then clapped him on the back hard as they disengaged.
A pang of something green unfurled within her. She hadn’t been hugged in a greeting in forever. She missed touch, and these two men had just shared this sweet moment and then gone back to looking at the damage to the cars, talking low like the affection had been nothing.
They both stood shoulder to shoulder, in similar stances, wearing matching white T-shirts, and even their jeans were the same shade of blue. They matched. And their shoulders were touching in a way she hadn’t seen grown, gruff, bearded, muscled men touch before.
She could almost hear the click of the imaginary lightbulb go off over her head. Ooooooh. “They’re gay,” she said on a breath.
“What?” the giant asked, twisting around. His scowl was now deeper. “No, we’re not.”
Anson didn’t look amused either. With a slow blink, he gestured to the man beside him. “Snob, this is Barret, my friend. Barret, this is Snob.” He offered a dead smile. “We’re not friends.”
“Hiya Snob,” Barret growled, giving her a one fingered wave. The finger he chose to use wasn’t very polite.
“My name is actually Kaylee,” she called as they gave their backs to her. “Kaylee Cummings.”
“Nobody cares,” Barret said over his shoulder.
Right. “I’ll just…go sit in my car.”
“I’ll have your car up on my truck in three minutes tops,” Barret said without turning around. “Go take a piss in the woods if you want something to do, Princess.”
She glared at the back of his head and gritted out, “Kaylee.”
Barret turned and started punching numbers in his phone as he strode by her. “Still don’t care.”
True to his word, Barret did make quick work of hauling the Lexus up on his rusted-out old tow truck. And as he drove away, she asked Anson, “What body shop is he taking it to?”
“Turgard Repair.”
“Turgard?”
“That’s Barret’s last name. He’s a damn Viking ancestor. It comes from Thorgard, or one under Thor’s protection. He swears that Viking blood is to blame for him always being ready for war, but it’s not.” Anson arched his eyebrow at her. “He’s just crazy like the rest of my crew.”
“And like you,” she popped off.
“Aw, come one now, Snob. We all have a little crazy in us, don’t we? Maybe ease up on the judgement, hmm?”
“I’m not judgmental.”
“You always were. You just assumed we were gay, out loud, after having been around Barret for all of what? Thirty seconds?”
“But if you are gay, no judgement from me. It actually makes a lot of sense. I mean—”
Anson grabbed the back of her neck and yanked her to him. His lips crashed onto hers with the force of a storm. It hurt, and as she tried to shove away from him, his grip tightened on the back of her neck, and he pulled her closer.
Fucker! She bit his lip. He snarled a feral sound, but didn’t give an inch. Instead, he forced his tongue past her pursed lips and gripped her hip hard. His entire body was a wall of stony muscle against hers. He plunged his tongue into her mouth again, and her body betrayed her. Why? Because of touch. She’d craved this for so long. Craved to feel less repulsive to the opposite sex. Craved to have someone willing to pull her closer instead of push her away. There were too many emotions roiling inside of her, and she softened her lips and stopped fighting. And the moment she did, Anson’s kiss changed. The next time he pushed his tongue into her mouth, it was gentler. His hand went soft against her hip. He angled his face the other way and sipped her lips slower. The stony grasp on the back of her neck gentled, and oh my God, Anson could kiss even better than she remembered. His thumb worked its way up the hem of her shirt. She should stop this, stop them from going further. He was messing with her head and wasn’t trustworthy. And Arden…
But it felt so good to lose herself and do something reckless. She disliked him a little less for giving her this moment of relief. Anson’s thumb drew slow circles on her bare hipbone, and warmth pooled in her lower belly. Oh, he knew how to touch a woman. And he tasted
so good. Toothpaste and Anson, a familiar flavor she apparently remembered after all this time apart. She’d really liked him once before their betrayals had eaten them up.
Anson drew his fingertips lightly across her neck, ran them through her hair, and then gripped gently and eased her head back as he pulled her bottom lip between his teeth and nipped it. He dipped his lips to her neck and sucked hard, his tongue brushing against her skin. She moaned, gripped his shirt, and closed her eyes against the sunlight, hoping he wouldn’t stop. She hoped he would drag this on and on. With every suck on her skin, she leaned into him, wanting more, wanting everything. He could take her into the woods right now and have her, she was that drunk on his touch.
Anson plucked at her skin with his lips, then kissed her again, more gently this time. He was smiling now. Smiling?
He released her suddenly and retreated a few steps. His eyes were gold again, and hungry, but his smile belonged to the devil inside the man. “Revenge,” he said softly, his eyes sparking with anger.
Kaylee was unsteady on her feet. “Wh-what?”
“You took more from me than you’ll ever know,” he growled. “But I can smell you now. Smell your arousal. I made you want me, and every time you look in the mirror and see that hickey on your neck, you’ll think about this moment right here. You’ll think about when you let a man who cares nothing for you kiss you senseless in the road. When you let a disgusting shifter make you moan. When you let an animal get you wet. Get in my truck, Kaylee.”
Oh, God. He’d uttered the words she’d used to hurt him all those years ago. “I’m sorry.”
Anson had been in the middle of walking away, but he turned on her, eyes blazing as he jammed a finger at her. “Don’t. Don’t apologize like that. You could’ve called at any time in the last decade. I’m registered thanks to you. Anyone can find out anything about me now. It’s out there for the public to see. Public knowledge. Where I live, who my crew is, all about my family, my lineage. I mean fuck, you can find pictures of my panther right there with my registration. My phone number’s listed now. You could’ve found me and fixed it. You waited too long to save anything, Kaylee. If you really want to apologize after all this time, you better mean it when you do it, not as a reaction to a kiss that meant nothing to me, and nothing to you.” He yanked open the destroyed door of his Bronco and wiped shattered glass off the seat like it didn’t hurt his hand at all. And when he was done, he stood next to the door, gaze averted to the ground, and snarled out, “Get in. I’ll take you to town.”
But he was wrong about what that kiss had meant. He’d touched her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt human, not like this dead, untouchable thing. She hesitated at the door and faced him, because hell, she was on her knees already. She had no pride left and couldn’t go any lower. “That kiss meant something to me.”
Anson’s blazing golden gaze jerked to hers. They were saying goodbye though, so what was the point in explaining? He would take her into town and drop her off, and they would both go on with their lives. Or try to. “Anson, someday I’ll apologize, and I’ll hope you accept it so I can move on. And someday I’ll ask for the same from you because you hurt me, too. Next time though, don’t tell me how to do it.” She climbed inside his Bronco and waited for him to muscle the door closed.
Kaylee flicked away a piece of glass that had fallen onto her jeans when the door was slammed and inhaled deeply as Anson, looking disturbed, strode around the front of his ride. Welcome to the club, Peckerface. She’d just enjoyed a kiss from a man she’d spent a lot of time hating over the last decade.
Nothing was right in her world anymore.
Chapter Three
Anson cast her another glance, but Kaylee’s face was turned away from him. She was different now. Sadder. Broken maybe. Something had stolen her light, but maybe that was just thanks to a bad morning. Wrecks did that to people. He worked road construction, and how many times had he repaired side rails that cars had slammed into? How many times had he replaced signs that people had plowed their vehicles into when they lost control? How many times had he swept glass off the road and wondered if the people in those cars had survived?
An awful thought hit him. He’d been at fault and pulled right in front of her. What if she hadn’t made it? What if that airbag hadn’t deployed and saved her face from hitting the steering wheel, or hell, the window if her seatbelt wasn’t doing its job? Fuck, this could’ve been bad because he was a mother-fuckin’ liar. That kiss meant plenty to him, too. It had been reckless to mess with her, but he’d been consumed by a need to prove he liked women. “Just so you know, that greeting you saw me and Barret do? That’s normal for big cat shifters. We don’t always get along, and sometimes I want to gut Barret and the rest of my crew, but touch is important. It settles our animals. And every bit counts on days like today. Barret saw I needed it, so he settled me. It’s different than human affection maybe, but it’s not weird to people like me.”
Kaylee cleared her throat delicately and asked, “Is it the same for lion shifters?”
Strange question. He frowned over at her, but she’d composed her face to a mask of blandness and was staring out the front window with her hands clasped primly in her lap.
“Maybe, I don’t know. I don’t hang out with lions. Never have. They’re assholes.”
Kaylee rubbed the back of her neck again like it was hurting. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like her discomfort. If he had some pain meds and water in the Bronco, he’d be pushing them on her right now.
In a careful tone, she asked, “What do you mean they’re assholes?”
“There is a pride here. We’ve been in a territory dispute for three years. Red Havoc was here first, but they’ll bully us out as soon as they see an opening. It’s instinct. They’re natural-born bullies.”
“Bullies…” she murmured.
“Humans call them murderers. Leave the lion curiosity alone and survive. There’s my best advice to you.”
She gestured to his shoulder. “And your crew…Red Havoc… are less murderous?”
Not about to explain She-Devil or crew dynamics to some human who couldn’t be trusted, he snorted and shook his head. “I guess we’re all monsters.”
“Yeah, well, humans can be monsters, too,” she said softly, giving her gaze to the woods blurring by outside her broken window.
Every word had been punched out with such honest notes, she truly believed in human cruelty. She’d seemed so anti-shifter when she’d found out what he was, but somewhere along the way, she’d changed. He could tell lies, and that was not one. She really believed in human monsters. Good. At least she’d learned something in her adult years. And now she was making him more curious, exposing little mysteries about herself that made him want to dig in deeper and figure her out. He didn’t really know her anymore. She didn’t even kiss the same. Fuck, just thinking about it got his dick hard. Hot little human, writhing against him, making those little helpless moans as he bruised her neck with his sucking kisses. It had been so damn hard not to slip his hand down the front of her jeans and feel if she was as wet as he suspected she was. She would’ve let him. Did she even realize how much her body had reacted to him? Cute as fuck little vixen, curving her hips toward him every time he slipped his tongue past her lips, asking without words for him to take care of her body. Tempting little temptress…if she wasn’t the one who had wrecked him.
Fate was a dickhole. Of all the people to crash into on this already crappy morning, Fate picked Kaylee Cummings? Really? His luck was the worst.
“What are you doing back in Covington? I heard you lived in New York.”
“I did for a while,” she said softly. “I wanted to get out of small town living and make a name in the city. I studied fashion, and that seemed like the best place to launch my career.”
“And?”
She rolled her head against the seat and offered him a smile that didn’t reach her pretty green eyes. “And it wasn’t like I
thought it would be.”
“You got chewed up and spat out by the city, didn’t you?”
She laughed and nodded. “That I did. What about you? Did you ever leave this place?”
“Yep.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her watching him, waiting on an answer he would never give.
“You aren’t going to say anything else about it, are you?” she asked.
“Nope.”
“Because you don’t trust me.”
“Nope.”
She rubbed her neck again, and a snarl bubbled in his chest. She was hurting. He could smell it now—pain. His inner panther wanted to kill whatever had hurt her, but unfortunately, he was the one to blame. So here he sat, trying to stifle the snarl in this throat while Kaylee stared at him, probably judgmentally, and everything was still stupid.
Anson gassed it into the parking lot of the only family doctor in town and eased to a stop in front of the entrance. He glared at the sign on the door that clearly stated We have the right to refuse service to shifters. Shifters had been out to the public for over two decades, but prejudice was still an issue.
“What are we doing here?” Kaylee asked. I need to go back to my mom’s place. I have calls to make.
“If your neck is that sore now, you’re gonna feel like you got run over by a semi tomorrow. At least get some muscle relaxers.”
“Oh.” Kaylee frowned and hesitated pulling the lever of the door. “Well…thank you for the ride, but no thanks for pulling out in front of me.”
Anson snorted.
“What?”
“You said pulling out.”
Her eyes narrowed like she had no sense of humor at all, and she shoved open the door. “It was annoying to see you again, Anson. Stay special.”
“Stay snobby. It suits you,” he called. “Hey!” he rushed before she slammed the door.
“What?” Whoo, she looked irritated as hell.
