by P. Jameson
“Shit.”
Of course they were missing. He’d quit.
A week and a half without cigs. A week and a half without seeing Janet. It felt more like years.
Scowling, he ripped the plastic nicotine patch from the place on his shoulder where Dr. Toya told him to put it. It was supposed to help with the cigarette cravings, but so far it didn’t seem to do jack shit. Four days of patches. Four days of feeling like he was going insane. And they didn’t make a patch to help with craving your female. So he was in double detox mode.
“Suck it up, fucker,” he muttered, pulling a new patch from the box and slapping it on his arm.
Drawing in a deep breath, he let his mind wander to her.
He’d been so careful before. Kept his distance ever since they’d rescued her from Bastian, making sure to watch, guard, but never touch. The first time he touched her was the night he learned she was pregnant. He had just returned from infiltrating Bastian’s compound to save Nyla and had been shot by one of the human guards the bastard employed. Just a shoulder wound but it hurt like hell without his animal side to heal it up.
There were times Smokes never missed his fucked-up werecat. He was one of the few who were glad the Ouachita witches cursed it to stay inside his body. Glad that the beast eventually died away. Glad to be free of the monster the Fathers created in him. But that night with a bullet in his shoulder, he actually missed the damn thing.
With his animal, he would have healed in hours. Being shot wouldn’t have weakened him the way it had. The pain wouldn’t have even been noticeable. But that night…
Janet was the only one who knew how to patch him up. She dug the bullet out, cleaned the wound, sewed him shut, bandaged the thing, all of it. Without even a hint of her normal nausea. And she didn’t know it, but her careful touch and her sweet scent were like a drug to him. Dulled the pain. Gave him peace like he’d never experienced before.
That night he didn’t shy away from scenting her. He drew in lungful after lungful, needing to keep as much of her as possible, because he knew there was no future for them.
A fact that became even clearer when the emerging Firecat inside him picked up on something it shouldn’t have.
With child.
There weren’t words to describe how that knowledge affected him. How it changed him.
He’d wanted to rip the male responsible to shreds. Wanted to mark her as his own so everyone would think it was his. But more than anything, was the burning need to make her safe.
How scared she must be. How unsure of the future. He’d wanted to hold her and make her feel like things would be okay.
He got the chance a week and a half ago. And now he couldn’t get her out of his head.
Smokes closed his eyes, letting himself remember for just a moment what it felt like to hold his woman freely. To take in her scent and not feel like he was slighting her.
But he wasn’t the right man for her. Someday, his Janet would be held by someone who could be careful. Who could love her sweetly like she deserved. Someone who was good for her and could put all her broken pieces back together. Who wouldn’t burn her up. He shuddered, remembering the awful nightmares.
A knock on the door brought him out of his thoughts.
“Yeah, just a minute.” Smokes stood, quickly jamming his legs into yesterday’s jeans before stalking to the door.
His breath stalled when he found Janet on the other side.
“Hi,” she said, fidgeting with something in her hand. He didn’t give a fuck what it was because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. she was like the sunshine coming out after a storm. She lit up his whole room, his whole fucking world, just standing there, after being away for so long.
She felt like a miracle.
Was it really only a week and a half? She looked so much healthier. Doc really knew what he was doing, didn’t he.
“Can I come in?” she asked, and Smokes stepped aside to let her.
She’d been here before, but not with him. At the same time. It was dangerous. Yet, he shut the door behind her, closing them in together.
Looking around, her eyes landed on the messy bed and she froze. “Were you asleep? Did I wake you?”
“Naw. I was already up.” He reached for his cigarettes again and stopped when he realized what he was doing.
“Oh.” She swung her gaze to him, zeroing in on his gunshot wound. The area around it was still red and angry but the scabs were gone and a fresh pink scar was beginning to form in their place. “Your shoulder,” she murmured. “How does it feel?”
“Fine. It’s healing.”
She nodded, looking uncomfortable, but not like she was in a hurry to leave. “Me too.”
“The doc’s medicine is helping.”
“Yes. Helping a lot. I feel sick more than I actually am sick these days.”
“Good. That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
Silence stretched between them but he didn’t hate it, just standing near her, taking her in. It was fine. Felt good even.
Janet tucked one side of her hair behind her ear. It was a nervous habit she did often. He’d noticed it before. “Hey, so. I wanted to say thank you for… you know…”
“Abducting a perfect stranger and forcing him to treat you?”
She pressed her lips together making that freckle above her mouth pop.
“For getting me help when I needed it. You didn’t have to risk it, and you did. So thank you.”
Anything for you, dove.
It was fucking true, wasn’t it. He’d fight dragons or scale mountains or flay himself wide. Whatever. Didn’t matter. She was queen whether she ever knew it or not.
Fuck.
He was so fucked.
Janet cleared her throat as she held out the large paper sack he hadn’t cared about before. The top was rolled over several times and her grip was white knuckling the thing.
“What’s this?”
“It’s for you.” The words tumbled out quickly and her gaze skated away as he took it. “Thought about wrapping it, but it seemed silly. I figure you don’t care much about wrapping paper, right?”
Smokes frowned. “Never thought about it before. Don’t get many gifts.” Or any. He didn’t get any gifts. Couldn’t remember the last time he’d opened anything of the sort.
“It’s not… it’s nothing extrav—you know what? Just open it.”
Unfolding the bag, he found a familiar object. Something he thought had been lost. Or more appropriately tossed.
His favorite leather jacket. The one he’d been wearing when he was shot. That night after he was stitched up, he had tossed the bloody thing with a dime size bullet hole right into the trash can.
Carefully, he lifted the jacket out of the paper sack to examine it. No blood. No hole. Instead, a small patch covered the torn leather.
Smokes blinked, unable to look away from the thing. When he finally turned to Janet, she shifted from foot to foot as if anxious for his response.
“You… you fixed my jacket?” he asked, hardly finding breath to finish the question.
She nodded, her pretty eyes dancing away and then to the ground. “You said it was your favorite. I figured it was salvageable. Mama Kitty helped me get it cleaned and I did the rest.”
Smokes swallowed the hard lump in his throat. It hurt like someone had his trachea in their fist.
He held it up to get a good look at it. The worn leather was soft and gleamed from being oiled. A brand new piece of material had been stitched into place over the bullet hole. It was in the shape of a—
“It’s…” she hesitated. “You know, I thought… a flame. Thought it was fitting.”
A flame.
“Did you sew this on?”
“Yes.”
“The stitches are good.” Not what he wanted to say, but hell. He was shit at saying what he meant.
“Thank you.” Her tone was so soft it made his chest hurt. And the underlying happiness in it mad
e him want to kiss the hell out of her.
Happiness. He could feel it radiating from her like heat from a fire. How did he manage that? A fucked up compliment, and it had the power to make her beam. He’d fuck up a million of them if it could guarantee more of that feeling from her.
Smokes slipped the jacket on, shrugging his shoulders to get it into place.
“Look at that. It’s like new.”
Janet’s soft mouth crooked at the corner. “It looks good on you. Just like the first night.”
Smokes watched her, soaking up her words like they were hot butter. But then she seemed to notice what she’d said, and stiffened.
Realization hit him at the same time. She had another reason for patching the thing up. The jacket was his favorite, yes. But it was also special to her.
Just like the first night, she’d said. When they rescued her from Bastian’s estate, she had been shivering and sick. Smokes gave her the jacket to wear.
He stared at his mate, seeing something he’d never noticed before. Longing.
Janet had pulled this jacket from the trash and fixed it up because it was important. Her first connection with him. The first time they met. Her first taste of freedom. A new beginning.
He moved closer. Couldn’t help it. She was like a magnet to his steel heart. And damn, he’d missed her.
“No one has ever done something so nice for me,” he confided.
Her lashes fluttered as she tried to decide where to look. His chest, the floor, the wall, the bed.
At me, female. Look at me.
As if she could hear him, her tentative gaze landed on his face. “Well. You deserve nice things.”
Smokes shook his head but he couldn’t help inching even closer. “I don’t. I really don’t. But thank you, Janet, for mending my jacket. I will keep it always, and remember the day you gave it to me as a gift.”
Her breath caught and her hands went to her stomach then back to her sides. Like she didn’t know what to do with them. He grabbed one, winding his fingers through hers. It felt awkward and perfectly right, all at the same time. How was that possible?
Shouldn’t be touching her. What if he hurt her? All it would take is one mistake, one accident and he could ruin everything he cared about. Shouldn’t care.
But I do. I do, damn it.
She stared at their hands like she couldn’t believe what he was doing, but she didn’t pull away. Not even a little. In fact, her slender fingers curled around his, locking him in place.
He wanted more. She wanted it too. The way every breath brought her a little closer. Her scent did its magic, causing him to feel powerful in a new way. A way that didn’t make him dangerous.
Maybe he could kiss her. On the cheek. Softly, like in his dream. What if he could do that and it wouldn’t hurt her?
“Will you come to my ultrasound today?” she blurted. And it was exactly the splash of cold water he needed.
“Ultrasound.”
Janet nodded. “The baby. Dr. Gregory is going to bring the machine here and I’ll be able to see him.”
She was going to see her baby, right there in her belly. And she wanted Smokes to be there for it.
He swallowed hard.
He was honored. Of all the people in the place they called home, and she chose him to be there. But…
No. It couldn’t happen. Too intimate.
He dropped her hand, breaking their connection.
He couldn’t give into the desires that clawed at him. He couldn’t be the one she bonded with. He wouldn’t be. Because that end game only led to sadness and pain. Hers. And he wouldn’t be the cause of anymore of that.
Smokes looked away, pretending he hadn’t almost kissed her and that holding her hand meant nothing.
“I have to work,” he said.
“I didn’t tell you what time.”
“I work all day. I won’t be around.”
“Oh.” Disappointment flooded her voice, but it was better that it happened now instead of later. “Yeah, well… okay. Just thought I’d… you know… ask.”
Smokes shrugged the jacket off and hung it on the hook by his door, ignoring how his hands shook, before turning back to her. Even if he couldn’t go, he didn’t like the idea of her being alone for the procedure. “Maybe get one of the girls to be there with you. Maybe Marlee.”
Janet looked to the floor, twisting her hands. “Yeah. Sure.”
Shit. The way she couldn’t look at him felt like a knife in his chest. He wanted to pull her back close. Take her hand again. Make that happiness seep from her once more.
No. No.
The only other option was to make her leave before he did something stupid.
Smokes reached for the door, his movements stiff, and pulled it wide. “Good luck,” he said as she passed through it.
Good luck. What the fuck was he becoming these days?
Good luck, when he wanted to just tell her the truth. Shit.
But he didn’t, he stayed quiet as she walked away. He watched her all the way down the hall, until she passed Mama Kitty’s office and closed herself in her own room. She never looked back.
Chapter Thirteen
Janet laid back on her bed and attempted to do as Dr. Gregory instructed. Relax. It wasn’t the easiest thing to achieve. For starters, she was alone in a room with a man she barely knew. She liked the doctor. He didn’t make her feel like a pawn he wanted to use, and didn’t appear to pity her. She was just a patient, like any other he might care for, day in and day out.
But he was still a stranger. One who would touch her when she didn’t want to be touched. Even if it was for a good purpose.
“You sure you don’t want anyone in here while we do this?” he asked, distracted with the machine. “Might help to have someone you trust holding your hand.”
“No. It’s fine.”
She almost took Smokes’s advice and asked Marlee, but she wanted to prove to the Dolls that she could do things on her own. Besides the girls, there was only one person she trusted enough to have at her side. And he’d said no.
No.
Remembering that conversation made her stomach weak with nausea.
Her stupid heart had soared seeing him again. And he had liked her gift. Everything was going so well that she’d started to believe what Marlee told her. That Smokes just needed a little push. But the minute she mentioned the baby, he’d closed up like a clam around a pearl. Janet shivered, remembering how cool he’d been answering her request.
As if he hadn’t kidnapped a doctor just so she wouldn’t have to go to the hospital. As if he hadn’t held her so she’d stay warm through the worst of her sickness. As if he didn’t hold her hand like they could be lovers.
She held up the same hand, staring at it. It felt alive. Alive like no other part of her did. The nerves tingled and sparked. Like just his touch had woken it from a long slumber of numbness. It was a strange feeling but not altogether unwelcome. In fact… she sort of liked it. It reminded her of her younger days when she was in complete control of her life and things felt good, not tarnished.
“All right,” Dr. Gregory said. “I think we’re ready. But first, it’s tradition that I make you laugh first.”
Janet frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“Before any surgery or procedure, I like to make my patients laugh. It’s not good to be so nervous, and let’s face the fuckin’ facts. Any time a doctor is about to do doctor things, people naturally get nervous. So, I have a way around it.”
“You do?” Janet was skeptical. She didn’t just… laugh. It wasn’t in her anymore. Being nervous was in her blood. It was who she was now.
“I do,” the doctor said, looking sure of himself. “It goes like this… A man walks into a doctor's office. He has a cucumber up his nose, a carrot in his left ear and a banana in his right ear. ‘What's the matter with me?’ he asks the doctor. The doctor replies, ‘Well, it seems you're not eating properly.’”
Janet blinked.
Jokes? Telling ridiculous doctor jokes actually worked to make his patients relax?
“Nothing, hm?” Dr. Gregory muttered. “Don’t worry, I got lots more where that came from.”
She threw him a bone. “It was pretty funny. Really.”
“Naw, we don’t want pretty funny. We want to make you laugh.” He put a finger to his chin and tapped.
“Don’t worry, doc. I’m not big on laughing. Let’s just—”
“Not big on laughing? You know who says that? People who haven’t laughed enough. Do it some, and I bet you’ll change your tune.” She opened her mouth to object, but he carried on. “Now, listen to this one. A guy walks into work, and both of his ears are all bandaged up. The boss says, ‘What happened to your ears?’ He says, ‘See yesterday I was ironing a shirt when the phone rang and I accidentally answered the iron.’ The boss says, ‘Okay, that explains one ear, but what happened to your other ear?’ The man says, ‘Well, jeez, I had to call the doctor!’”
Janet let off a small snort. Not a laugh, but closer than she’d been in a long damn time. And yeah, it felt nice. Sorta like holding Smokes’s hand. “Okay, that one was funny.”
“Ah, see. Getting closer.” Dr. Gregory smiled, and boy, he had a great one. Not slimy like he wanted something. Not flirty like so many men she’d known. Not sick and evil like Bastian’s. Just pure humor and kindness. She would have worked side by side with people like him if she could have finished school. “Seems you like the ones about dumb men. Known a lot of dumb men in your time, Janet?”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Don’t worry. I have a ton of jokes like that. How about this one. A guy walked into a doctor's office and the receptionist asked him what he had. He said, ‘Shingles.’ So she took down his name, address, medical insurance information and told him to have a seat. A few minutes later a nurse's aid came out and asked him what he had. He said, ‘Shingles.’ So she took down his height, weight, a complete medical history and told him to wait in the examining room. Ten minutes later a nurse came in and asked him what he had. He said, ‘Shingles.’ So she gave him a blood test, checked his blood pressure, ran some other tests, told him to take off all his clothes and wait for the doctor. Fifteen minutes later the doctor came in and asked him what he had. He said…”
