by Holley Trent
“You know the sort. Finding people. Sometimes moving people. Occasionally, getting rid of them.”
Lord, help me.
“More often than not, though, just investigating.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess?”
Three black bags in a row drifted past. Not hers. Marcella’s suitcase had a strip of fluorescent blue tape at the top.
“Dana only works with weird people,” Mrs. Ursu said. “You weren’t in the SHREW Study, and I don’t believe you’re one of the psychics she contracts or one of the Catamounts her husband organizes. What qualifies you to be in the company? Do you have—”
Soren took the phone then. “Hello, Mamă.”
Marcella couldn’t make heads or tails of what came out of his mouth next, only that the words weren’t English, and that they were probably about her. Fortunately, she was used to being talked about and wasn’t going to obsess over what he might have been saying.
She pointed her attention to the conveyor belt, tuning out Soren’s scolding tone, and watching for the bag she’d stupidly checked. She’d gotten used to traveling light, and living light, for that matter. Sometimes, she thought her life was merely a nonstop series of errands, the same as her mother’s. Moving from one job to the next.
Soren, still talking a mile a minute at his mother, grabbed his duffel off the belt.
Marcella had never wanted an itinerant life. Her mother had one simply because of the nature of her job—going from one small town to the next, being the traveling obeah woman. And her father…
Well, her father went where Jah led him.
Before Marcella could reach for her bag, Peter had already grabbed the handle.
“I guess you’re always paying attention,” she muttered.
He pulled the phone away from his face and said, “I get compensated well to pay attention.” Into the phone, he said, “Goodbye, Mamă. I will call you later, perhaps.” He ended the call and stuffed the phone back into his pocket before hauling one bag up to his shoulder and grabbing the other by the handle.
“Have you been to this airport before?” she asked.
“I think by now, I’ve been to most.” He started moving toward a sign that read Rental Cars. “At least, I feel like I have. Always on the move.”
“This one’s not so bad. I think Miami is one of my least favorite larger ones, followed by LAX and LaGuardia.”
“You get around that much?” He slowed his gait, ostensibly for her to keep up, and she realized how silly that was. He was carrying an extra eighty pounds of luggage, and all she had was her backpack of essentials.
She shrugged. “Word gets around about what I do. Mostly, people call looking for my mother, but my mother won’t fly, so I’m the next best thing.”
“What are they looking for you to do?”
“Generally, things that I can’t do. Love potions. Revenge magic. Shit like that. I get enough legitimate work that’s either white magic or neutral that I don’t touch the dark stuff.”
“You’re a natural witch.” His words were a plain statement of fact, not an accusation, which she appreciated. Even in her line of work, she encountered people who turned their noses up at the fact she’d come by her gifts through birth and not through practice.
“Comes from my mother’s line. That’s why Maria doesn’t have the same ability. I suspect she gets some things I also have from our father, though.”
Soren edged them to the front of the shuttle line, and the people they were cutting in front of didn’t even complain. That was probably due to a combination of Soren being large and imposing and Marcella’s occasionally useful gift of psychic compulsion. She’d been hoping they’d keep their mouths shut.
They did.
“What sort of things did you inherit from him? Is he like your mother?”
“No, not at all. At least, not to the same extent. I think like tends to gravitate toward like, and maybe my mother saw something in him. Kindred spirits, or whatever.” At least for a few nights. A few nights was all he ever stuck around for early on, though no one could debate the fact that he tried to keep up with his multitude of children. He knew all the names, all the birthdates, and where they all were…for the most part. Maria had spent too much of her teen years as a moving target for him to have any meaningful connection with her.
Marcella instinctively moved to the back of the train car. She didn’t like having people behind her.
Soren eyed the spot next to her, then the one ahead and, glimpsing the crowded queue of travelers awaiting spaces nearby, he started easing into the one in front.
No.
Better him than a stranger.
“Soren.” She canted her head slightly to the adjacent seat, and the SkyTrain took off before he’d even gotten seated.
Twining her fingers, she stared out the window at the airport as the train zipped around the tracks. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been good at small talk. I always work alone.”
“Why?”
“Because I can never tell if people are talking to me because they want to or because I’m making them.”
The woman seated in front of them turned slightly and cut Marcella a side-eye over her shoulder.
Marcella sighed and looked out the window again.
Soren nudged her with his elbow and held out his oversized phone. The screen showed an open notepad app.
“Seriously?” she asked.
“I want to know.”
“Why?”
“Who else can you tell?”
The man had a valid point, so she took the phone from him, being careful not to skim his palm with her fingertips, and tapped in: The ability isn’t something I can turn off and on. It’s built into my nature, like the way I smell or sound.
Or the way she could vanish in a pool of water.
He took the phone and typed: Can people tell when they’re being compelled?
Eventually, they figure out something isn’t quite right, and that I’m the one who’s causing them to act out of character, she said.
I don’t think it’s working on me.
You haven’t been near me long enough to tell.
I know magic. Whatever you’ve got isn’t touching me. I’m a born alpha Bear. I’m difficult to assault for the most part.
Except during full moons and mating seasons.
He shrugged and whispered, “That’s hormones, not magic.”
Every time the man leaned in close, she feared she’d vanish and leave behind a pile of wet clothes where a woman once was. Perhaps when he got off the train, scratching his head with confusion about where she’d disappeared to, she’d be able to pull herself back into her human shape again.
“You’re chittering,” he whispered.
“What?”
“You’re making the sound that cats who spot birds on the other side of windows make.”
She swallowed and leaned more toward the wall to get his sultry air off her damned neck. Her skin was prickling and nipples hardening, and she was finding her lack of control utterly humiliating.
The train came to a stop, and she grabbed her suitcase and hurried through the open doors before he had a chance to force his bigger body through the mass.
Drea had even set them up with vehicles from two different rental car companies.
Let’s see him catch up now.
CHAPTER FIVE
An hour after retrieving his rental car and checking into his motel room, Soren lifted his fist and knocked on Marcella’s door.
He heard her shuffling to the door, the creak of the floor in front of it—likely her pausing to peer through the peephole—and then her frustrated sigh.
“Open the door,” he said.
“How’d you find me?”
“You’re my mate.”
“That’s not an answer, and it’s not the truth, either.”
“It’s both.”
He was an Ursu. He had all sorts of weird tricks up his sleeves. Normally, a born-Bear fin
ding his mate required some degree of psychic connection between the two shifters, but Marcella wasn’t a Bear. He’d been surprised when they’d met that she’d hit his radar so hard. Her magic was delicious, indeed. Following her was like picking up breadcrumbs she’d purposefully left behind to find her way on a trail.
“Open,” he said in a singsong voice. “We should have dinner.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I am. I’m always hungry.” For a number of things, at that, with her topping the list.
“So go eat.”
“We’ll eat together. One less receipt for Drea to log.”
“That’s not the way this is supposed to work. You’re supposed to be giving me space, Bear.”
“You gonna tell on me?”
“I could. Hell, I should.”
“And, what? You think some Shrew is going to come down here to rescue you? I thought you were supposed to be demonstrating that you can take care of yourself.”
Marcella opened the door a tiny crack and scowled at him. “You’re harassing me. Do you understand what no means?”
“You haven’t told me no. You’ve told me to go away. Not the same thing.”
“Most people don’t stick around where they’re not wanted.”
“Who said I wasn’t wanted?”
“I believe that was pretty strongly implied.”
“Tell me you don’t want me, witch.” He leaned against the spindly pergola column and crossed his arms over his chest. “Refuse your mate.”
Lie to me.
He knew witches who were very proficient liars, but Marcella had already confessed that she fell in the white-to-gray realm of behavior. He’d never met a practitioner of light who was any good at lying. Besides, he’d be able to smell the lie on her if she tried. Bear noses were good that way, and few people were able to school their hormones to not tell on them when they were prevaricating.
She disappeared from the crack in the door, returned a moment later with her wallet and keys, stepped outside, and quickly shut the door before he could really get a good look inside.
“Okay. Where should I meet you for dinner?”
“I’ll drive. No need to waste gas.”
“Whatever. One less receipt for Drea to log, right?”
“Sure. That, too.” He gestured toward the SUV parked at the end of the row and made an after you bow.
“How do you stack up high enough to get a truck while I have a sedan?” she asked.
“I got a free upgrade.”
“How?”
“Because I’m handsome and endearing.”
She scoffed and walked toward his vehicle.
He smirked. “You disagree?”
“Are the doors open?” she asked.
“Are you going to make a habit of not answering my questions?”
“Ask me one worth answering.” She tugged on the door handle. Of course, the door didn’t give. It was locked.
He grinned even broader and then chuckled when she gave a few ropes of her hair a frustrated tug. “If I didn’t lock it, I would never get to open the door for you.”
“I don’t need that kind of chivalry. I’m capable of opening doors and doing any number of other unfeminine things on my own, and waiting around for people to do things for me takes time. We don’t have time. We’re on the job.”
“You can afford to make people wait. I do all the time.”
Growling, she leaned against the passenger door and drummed her fingertips against the sides of her biceps. “Yeah? And how’s your success rate with cases?”
“About a hundred and ten percent.”
“Bullshit, Soren.”
“It’s true. I don’t need to make shit up. Ask Dana if you don’t believe me. I have a pesky habit of interfering in other people’s cases when I get done with mine.” He clicked the unlock button on the key fob and waited for her to get out of the way of the door.
She didn’t.
He picked her up by the waist and moved her out of the door’s swing zone. “Why must you make my good intentions so difficult to deploy?”
“From what I hear about Bears, your good intentions would have me face down with my ass up.”
“Mmm.” He smiled at the thought. Any angle would have been a treat, but that firm round ass of hers…
“Would that really be such a bad thing?” he asked.
“Casual sex with a Were-bear? I could think of a number of reasons why that might be a horrible ideal. I don’t want to be imprinted on you.” She climbed into the SUV, grabbed the door handle, and slammed the door shut.
He walked around to the driver’s side, shaking his head as he went. She was already imprinted on him, and he knew she knew. Her sister was with a Bear. Maria had to have told her the basics, including the fact that Bears only got one true mate, if they were going to get one at all. He didn’t like to think of the situation in terms of him being stuck with Marcella. The more accurate statement was that she was stuck with him.
He climbed into his seat and pulled the seatbelt buckle down from the track. “Why do you assume sex with me would be casual?”
“Because I’m not going to let you pin me down and bite me.”
“I wouldn’t bite you. I’m not much for biting. I guess I don’t have that particular fixation when I’m in my human form. I don’t mind being bitten, though.” He pressed the fancy SUV’s ignition button and put the vehicle into reverse. “Tie me up and put your teeth wherever you’d like. Pain makes me hard.”
He stole a glance at her as he backed out of the space, and barely suppressed a laugh. She stared straight ahead, wide-eyed, and lips pressed tightly together.
He suspected no one had ever made her such an offer, and that suited him fine.
“Where are we going for dinner?” she asked. “I suggest someplace quick.”
“What’s the hurry?”
“I left something needing attention in my room.”
“Such as?”
“That’s really none of your concern.”
He disagreed, but he didn’t say so aloud. He didn’t want Marcella’s mood to go so far south that shoring it back up would be an all-day pursuit.
“I was in the mood for steak,” he said.
“I’m sure you’re always in the mood for steak, and all sorts of undercooked fatty meats.”
“I’m a Bear. Can you really fault me craving the occasional rump roast?”
“How often do you eat meat?”
“Every meal. I thought you said you weren’t vegetarian.”
“I’m not. Still, I don’t eat a lot of meat, and certainly not red meat.”
“How do you feel about white meat?”
“I like it fine when it’s firm and tastes the way it’s supposed to. Not a big fan of meat that’s been handled too roughly and too often.” She turned slowly toward him. “As I suspect yours has been.”
Damn.
He should have known that one would blow up in his face. Marcella wasn’t a slow woman, and she wasn’t going to miss a beat.
He cleared his throat and followed the GPS’s instruction to take a bypass road. He’d actually had dual motivations in getting her out of her room. Yes, he wanted dinner, but he also wanted to do an informal tour of the area before he and Marcella started work in earnest. He wanted to demonstrate that they could actually work together in close quarters to no ill effect. In his opinion, the sooner they broke through some barriers, the better off their relationships would be—work and personal.
“Sorry about my mother,” he said.
“Ugh.” She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Does she do that to everyone?”
“No. My mother doesn’t have the patience for long conversations, but when she’s curious, she talks plenty. I imagine you make her very curious.”
“Why, simply because I answered your phone?”
“That would be a good start. I don’t make a habit of letting other people answer my phone. People usually can’t get
close enough to take it from me.”
“You talk a big game.” Marcella closed the air vent near her window. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to her new associates’ aversion to milder temperatures.
“My ego is merited,” he said. I’ve earned the right to brag. I know I’m good.”
“We’ll see.”
“Is that so?”
“Why do you act like everything I say is a challenge?”
“You’re the one who made the challenge. I’m simply informing you that you should take my words for fact. There’s nothing to read into them.”
“I understand now why you usually work alone,” she said in an undertone.
“Humor me. Why?”
“Because you’ve got this know-it-all attitude, and you think people are going to get out of your way so you can get what you want. Maybe you’re used to that. Maybe the alpha Bear part of you warns people away from crossing you, but you can’t affect me.”
Soren performed a slow nod and clucked his tongue. “And why do you think that is?”
“Don’t know. Maybe for the same reason you claim to be unaffected by my magic.”
“You’re immune to my abilities.”
“Sure.”
“What do you think that means?”
She shrugged. “Probably nothing.”
Nothing, my left nut.
His mother wasn’t affected by his father’s energy, either. He may as well have been a squirrel for all the impact his alpha nature had on her.
“You’re driving a bit far out of the way for steak, aren’t you?” she asked. “The city wasn’t much of one, but there’s likely to be even less to choose from way out here in the boondocks.”
“I figured we’d look around and get the lay of the land. See if we run into any shifters or other weird locals.”
“You could have warned me. I left—”
“Yeah, yeah, you left something in your room that you needed to tend to. What were you doing?”
She cleared her throat, pulled her bag onto her lap, and rooted through inside. “Nothing to concern you.”
“Witchy stuff?”
“Do I ask you how you do your job?”
