by Sivad, Gem
“Good,” he told her when he’d licked away her release.
She didn’t have enough strength to agree. He kissed his way to her stomach, played with her bellybutton and then moved higher to feast on her breasts again. Hours, maybe days later, she really couldn’t say, she lay sprawled next to him on the mat, her legs limp noodles, her thighs screaming pain from the last lengthy ride on his cock. She’d straddled him. He’d pinched her nipples, bitten the tips, and finally stroked her clit until her eyes crossed and she saw stars.
Nothing but the harsh pants of their breathing interrupted the silence between them. She closed her eyes and counted. After she’d come the third or fourth, maybe fifth time, he’d shuddered all over, his muscles going taut under her hands, and he’d roared like an animal. It had been sexy as hell.
She wondered if he’d spilled any inside her. He’d come so hard and so long that even through the barrier of the condom, she’d felt the heavy pulse of his cum. She felt wet, humid, fecund. It would have been nice to curl up and sleep.
She thought about getting up and groaned. Lifting her leg, she displayed the lime boot she still wore. Her shorts dangled around the ankle. “I win.”
Rolling to her feet, she scanned the room and spotted her tank top. She couldn’t really remember when it had been removed or why it was across the room. After she picked it up, she dressed silently. It didn’t take long to step into the other boot and pull up her britches.
She felt steadier than she had in days, maybe better than ever before. She glanced over at him. It was a damn shame. He was a good lover.
He lay lazily sprawled on the mat watching her the whole time.
When she headed for the door, he said, “I’ll have the steaks ready in—”
She turned and got in the last blow. She knew where to hurt a man the most—his ego. “Mr. Hunter, the fuck was good. It was real good. Maybe the best I’ve had yet. Thanks for that. But I’d not care to break bread with you. You’re a liar. I don’t much care for the likes. I don’t want to know you. Don’t bother me again.”
She was damn proud of her speech. She’d been composing it while the sweat dried on her. She’d figured he’d have something to say and she’d let him say it to her back. She didn’t allow for him being able to cover distance so fast.
He was a naked barrier blocking the door before she got to it. How’d he do that?
“What did I lie about?” He didn’t do innocent well. His question was too cagey, testing what she knew without giving up information. Like a cheating boyfriend trying to see if he’d been caught.
Uh huh. An unrepentant sinner. She rolled her eyes at him. She was too mellow to fuss so she explained in simple terms.
“You need to get your stories down better before you tell ’em. First off, you drive a late-model SUV and you keep it clean. You won’t find another like it in these parts. We take pride in our coats of dirt.
“Second of all, there was no clean shit-green vehicle of that nature sitting at the convenience store last night. You lied. You weren’t standing inside when I bought my groceries and you weren’t outside when they got pitched. I don’t know how you’re privy to the information, but you weren’t there watching the fight.” She shrugged.
He opened his mouth and she cut him off.
“Save your story. I don’t really give a damn. We had our fun. Now it’s over.”
He bristled as though he might want to go another round, but she was tired. Miz shook her head.
“Forget it.” Before he could anticipate her move, she touched the spot where neck connected to shoulder and gave him a jolt of power that should have disabled him. It didn’t. Damn, what’s this guy made of? She squinted up at him.
He laughed and then mocked her drawl. “Sheeeit green? The ride gets traded for another color tomorrow.”
She’d just brought out her heavy artillery and he stood there grinning and making jokes. He should have been on his knees. Maybe a do-over.
When she reached for him again, he grabbed her hand, clasping it in his. Big mistake. As she watched, his expression changed, relaxed, and he became serene. Still got some of my mojo. Her power pulsed into him and turned his will to mush. Patiently she listened as he spilled his guts.
“I was in a tree across the road. I saw you ride up and enter the store. You’d no sooner disappeared inside than the jackass decided to burn up your Harley. He didn’t even manage to get the gas on your bike. It blew back on him.”
Good to know my ward worked. Her hand tingled, growing warmer in his. “And why might you be sitting in a tree in the middle of the country spying on folks? You some kind of perv?”
She looked up at him and smiled—showing him her teeth. It wasn’t much fun most of the time being a truth-sayer. But now and again it was. This time proved to be exceptional.
“I’m assigned here. I work for a subgroup of the NSA. I was on a surveillance detail last night.” Thomas opened his mouth and truth spilled out, gushing with gusto. He babbled, basking in the glow of her approval as he shared classified information with her.
And then his cat snarled a warning and he woke up. The woman had set some kind of spell on him. He remembered the words of the man she’d stomped the night before. “Someday I’ll burn that witch.”
Witch. Missouri Hess was a witch. Well, hello. Funny her being a healer hadn’t surprised him at all. But a witch? He’d thought they mainly showed themselves around Halloween. Fourteen or so years old, begging for candy and wearing green hair. But what did he know? He was a shape-shifter, no reason not to believe there were witches too. Real witches. Witches who could make you tell the truth.
He sealed his lips and held on to her hand, feeling the power surging from her. I’ll let you show me your stuff, sweetheart. I can take the heat. He didn’t speak but as soon as the thought popped in his brain she answered.
“Let me?” She flashed him another crazy-looking smile. Shit, he hadn’t said that out loud. His lips hadn’t moved. He knew it.
“You read minds too,” he muttered bleakly.
“Just a stray thought here and there,” she answered, slipping her hand from his.
Stunned, he stared at her as she returned to him what he’d barely realized he’d lost. She took over my mind and I couldn’t stop her. Instead of being madder than hell, he had the impulse to hug her, hold her.
“It’ll fade,” she said dryly. “By tomorrow morning you’ll think it was just your imagination.” She smoothed her finger along his hairline and then touched a spot in the middle of his forehead. He stood there rooted to the floor and couldn’t do a damn thing when she left.
He didn’t shake it off until the sound of her Harley was halfway down the lane. But he didn’t forget a damned thing. His cat saw to that. “Nice trick, Miz Hess,” he growled.
He grabbed his carry pack, hooked the tabs around his neck, opened the door, tied the rope in place and shifted into jaguar form. He was pissed. Inside him his beast roared. Thomas grasped the rope with feline teeth and pulled the wood barrier closed. The door doesn’t shut until I say it shuts, Miz.
Then his jaguar took control and he bounded off the porch, cutting through brush and up the tree where he’d start his journey. He paralleled her trip down the dirt road and she turned on pavement. He waited to move to the trees on the other side until she was nothing but a receding hum in the distance. Once across, he took to the branches, his jaguar reducing the six-mile separation to three. He was in the willow across from her cabin when she rode in.
* * * * *
Miz hadn’t been home more than five minutes before a truck came bouncing up the road behind her. She stopped outside, her stance signaling militant hostility when Hank Wyatt climbed out. The jaguar tensed, ready to pounce and rip the other male apart.
Thomas grabbed hold of his beast, fighting the rage that threatened to consume both of them. He forced himself to listen to the man below.
“Miz, you’re needed,” Wyatt said.
“No.” She shook her head and started to turn away. Wyatt grabbed her arm. She tugged at it, trying to pull away. “No, I said.”
Thomas expected her to whip out some of her magic or just turn loose with a kick to the asshole’s groin. He was disappointed when she didn’t.
“I told you last time, Wyatt, not to ask again. I’m not some goddamn lie detector machine.” But from the slump of her shoulders, Thomas knew she was caving in. The jaguar wanted to leap on the other male and rend him into little bits.
“That you’re not,” Wyatt agreed. “Used a lie detector when I was in the military—you’re better.”
“Dammit, Hank, I’m tired. And if I wasn’t, I’ve still got no reason to do for you or yours.”
Thomas dug jaguar claws in the tree branch he rested on. She called him Hank. Neither cat nor man liked that. The tree swayed. He froze.
Wyatt’s head came up and he swept the clearing with his glance, studying the underbrush below the willow. His nostrils flared, scenting the air as his gaze traveled upward.
Seeing his distraction, Miz twisted in his grip and landed an old-fashioned kick to Wyatt’s knee. He grunted pain and grabbed her around the waist, carrying her toward the truck. “This time, Miz, you don’t get to say no. You’re needed.”
Thomas could see she was mad not hurt. She snarled and kept trying to land punches as they neared the truck. But still it was more insults she threw at him and no magic at all. “You reek, Wyatt.”
“You smell good too, Miz. Like sex. Where you been tonight?”
She slapped at him. “Like it’s any of your business. Jesus, you stink like wet dog and something else. What the hell you been doing? Rolling with the hounds?”
Had he not been suffering from mating mania, Thomas would have recognized the scent immediately.
Wolf—pungent, strong and undeniable.
Chapter Six
Miz hunched in the cab of the truck, her back turned toward Hank Wyatt. She was so mad she could spit. First off, her magic didn’t work on him, it never had. She wanted to do all kinds of nasty things to him right now—burn his hair off his head, make his skin crawl, sizzle his toes. But she couldn’t.
Second of all, she didn’t want to go and force some poor sucker to spill his guts on command. It was sickening. She’d have another round of hate shoved at her and she didn’t need it in her life. She’d already had enough.
But Hank didn’t care. He’d been using her as his personal truth finder for years. At first, the locals believed her to be a snitch, reporting any thefts or crimes to him. It didn’t make her popular but at least they’d treated her as if she was human.
But one night Hank had pulled Eldon Brown’s younger brother into what he called his enforcement room, slapped his hand in Miz’s, and Bobby Jr. had blabbed every item he’d stolen and named his accomplices.
The upshot was, Bobby stayed out of prison but the family had to replace all the goods or pay for what couldn’t be returned. Eldon had been all set to get married and it carved a chunk out of his savings to keep his kid brother out of jail.
It was take it or leave it. Hank was hard that way. He didn’t put up with anyone causing trouble that might bring outsiders in to mix in local business. He threatened to haul Bobby to the courthouse himself if the family didn’t cough up. They did.
It should have ended there. But Bobby had squalled about her being in the room during the talk with Hank. Said she was part of the interrogation. Afterward, Eldon had caught her having a beer at Milo’s Place and decided to fuck with her over his no-good brother’s thieving. That was back when she drank more than she had sense.
He’d called her a maggot, a goddamn piece of slime that sucked life off others. She’d explained to him for the third time that she wasn’t a snitch and he’d spit on her. That did it. Too drunk to control her temper, she’d grabbed his hand.
“Eldon, tell your fiancée where you were and what you did last night.” Miz had seen his truck parked outside Mary Hart’s place and Mary Hart wasn’t his bride-to-be. Given Eldon’s propensity for screwing around, it had been a sure bet.
Well after he’d crooned about fucking Mary all night and into the morning, Miz had let him go. He’d been silly stupid, grinning as though he’d won the lottery. His fiancée dumped a beer on his head and flushed his ring down the toilet.
But everyone else stood around and looked at Miz. She’d made herself a pariah. Who the hell wanted to hang around a truth-sayer? Jesus.
She didn’t like her ability. Didn’t enjoy using it except once in a while like earlier today when she’d put the fly fisherman in his place. She should be worried about that damn man too. She knew better than letting anyone in on her secret.
He’d just been so… She didn’t know what he’d been. Besides being pissed at Hank, she wanted to kick Thomas Hunter’s ass too, just for being so sexy she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And speaking of minds, what the hell was that shit? She’d never read anyone’s thoughts before. His had been loud and clear.
And the cretin had bitten her neck in the same spot as the cat the night before. She covered the spot with her hand, feeling the pulse of warmth that seemed to radiate from the mark. If the cat bite didn’t already do it, the damned maniac probably infected me with some rare disease.
She thought of his strength when he’d incapacitated her, literally wrapping her in power. And the way he moved with stealth and intelligence made her envious. She hadn’t even been able to keep Hank from shoving her in the truck. Just once in my life I’d like to have someone like Thomas fighting on my team.
Hank turned up a lane, not going where she expected at all. He usually took her to his house on the outskirts of town.
“Where are we going?”
“I’ve got a place up by the timberline.”
“Who am I torturing today?” she asked, turning from the monotony of thick pine to thick head instead. Hank did whatever Hank thought best. It was odd how nobody ever really argued with him—except maybe her—and she mostly avoided him. It hadn’t always been that way.
She pressed her lips together to keep them from trembling. Heck, he’d been her first… She almost called it a fuck but changed her mind. He’d been her first. She’d thought they had something going.
He was older than her, but not by that much. Ten years back, when she was seventeen and he was twenty-four, it hadn’t seemed that much. She’d grown up fast. He’d smoothed her way. They were sort of a couple. Then he’d found out what she could do and everything changed. Maybe if she’d never healed that damned wolf, things would have been different.
She tried not to think about it. Her life had pretty much been shit before it happened but afterward it had been pure hell. He’d just stopped coming around. Stopped talking to her. For a long time he’d even quit looking at her. Then she’d gotten stupid, desperate. He’d been her best friend, her first boyfriend. Well, actually, her only boyfriend. She hadn’t wanted to let it go without trying to fix things.
She’d gone to his house, knocked on his door and he’d let her in, but he’d been different. She could feel it. She’d apologized for not telling him about her gift. She’d wanted him to know it all, every damn quirk Mother Nature had cursed her with. So she’d blabbed with tears running down her face, bawling like a kid. And he’d listened.
Then he’d laughed, but it had been a hard sound. “You’ll come in handy. Thanks for telling me. I’ll be in touch.” And he’d ushered her out the door.
It was the last damn time she’d cried. He’d spoken true though. He’d found plenty of ways to use her touch. “Did I fry Donnie’s brains?” she asked. It seemed eons ago but had been only yesterday when she’d healed the coal truck driver.
“Nope.” He turned and looked at her. “This time you did good.”
He didn’t volunteer any more information about Donnie and she didn’t ask. She turned back to watching the pines as the heavy truck climbed the mountain road. She studied the trees, startled to
see something leap from one branch to another.
“What kind of big cats live in these woods?” she asked Hank.
“For a country girl, Miz, you don’t know much about the place you live.” He laughed then added, “Bobcats, lynx, a few mountain cougars and pumas drifting in from the west. I like to think they’ve all found a sanctuary here and are safe from men.”
She looked back at him and frowned. “Well, I just saw a big something in the trees over there. Another good reason why I don’t like the woods—there’s nasty wild things running around I don’t plan to deal with.”
She started to tell him about her personal cat experience but stopped herself, changing the subject instead. “For your information, I’ve been busy. It took me two years of cleaning houses to pay my way through massage school.”
“I’m real proud of you, Miz. You’ve got your own business and home. You’re set for life.” The glance he gave her assured her she should be thankful for his approval. He was a jerk set on getting his way.
Well he could stuff his way. She felt as if a band of steel was pressing against her chest. She was sick of having her life interfered with, sick of living among people who despised her and sick of him. “I’m thinking of selling my patch of ground and moving.”
“You got a place in mind? Something closer to your shop?” She could almost see the wheels turning in his head. He was probably already sifting through real estate to suggest.
“No, I’m thinking of moving out of state—maybe somewhere near the ocean.” Actually, she hadn’t been thinking about it, at least not consciously. But the idea sprang into her head fully developed at that moment.
“Well now I’d hate to see that happen.” His voice was a gruff reminder that he’d not be able to use her if she was that far away.
“I just bet you would,” she answered, incapable of keeping the bitter edge from her tone.
He drove the truck up another steep grade and then did a sharp right turn and drove straight toward a stand of trees.
