by Sarah Makela
Angelique closed her bedroom door behind her and leaned against it. She took a deep breath and cursed the situation. Pots and pans banged against each other beyond the door from Connor digging through her cupboards. Her gaze swept the bedroom. She was frantic for something to cover her. This tank top just wouldn’t do with Kira on the prowl. She strode to the closet and shoved aside her everyday clothes to find her fall/winter apparel. She put on her jacket and zipped it. Kira wouldn’t climb on Angelique’s face. If she got too out of hand, Angelique could always try to force her down. Although, that usually took a lot of strength of will and was downright painful.
“Stop playing around,” Angelique murmured. Kira let out a hiss in response and paced across her skin, moving from her back to her stomach and back again. “I know you don’t like him, but don’t make this harder than it has to be. You’re the reason I’m not with him.”
The pots and pans in the kitchen went silent, and Angelique held her breath. Her bedroom door opened, and she jerked her head toward it. Connor stood just outside of the doorway and cocked his head to the side. “Who are you talking to?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “I… What?”
“I heard you talking to someone.”
Harsh pounding sounded on Angelique’s front door, making Kira nearly jump out of her skin. Connor spun on his heel, blocking the doorway and staring into the other room. “Were you expecting anyone?”
“No.”
Kira’s claws bit into Angelique’s skin just hard enough to hurt. A low rumble vibrated along her back.
Connor looked back at her with intensity in his eyes. The loud knocking resumed. He straightened his shoulders, becoming impossibly tall, and walked toward the door.
“Wait, what if—”
“What if what? What if it’s a burglar knocking on the door?” he asked, humor warming his voice but not stopping his determined stride. “I’d say he has good manners.”
She threw her arms in the air and sighed. “Fine.”
He stiffened when he reached the door. His gaze cut to her. “No matter what you hear or see, it isn’t how it seems. Remember that.” With that cryptic message, he turned the doorknob.
She opened her mouth to question him, but a sharp surge of energy smashed into her from the entrance. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she edged closer. Kira crouched on her stomach as if ready to pounce. A platinum blonde with a super-small waist and long, long legs stood in her doorway. The woman’s attention landed first on Connor, then slid to Angelique. Intense anger poured from the woman in hot waves.
Connor braced a hand on each side of the doorway and leaned forward. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same thing.” The woman’s sharp voice bit into Angelique’s strained nerves. The blonde’s nose twitched, and her eyes narrowed on Angelique like a predator on its prey. “What’s that stench? You certainly don’t know how to pick good perfume.”
Kira’s nails sank in deeper, and Angelique cried out, stumbling against the wall. Dampness trailed down her back. Tension thrummed through her familiar. Aware of what she’d done, Kira withdrew her claws and paced.
Connor’s glare snapped to Angelique. He jogged the distance between them and lifted her into his arms before she realized what he’d done.
No, he couldn’t be so close with Kira this agitated.
The door shut behind them, and Angelique scowled at the women for letting herself in.
“Leave here, Monica,” Connor growled. It sounded like a noise Kira would make…except different. More…canine? “What happened, Angelique?” He stared down at her, his voice filled with concern. The look in his eyes reflected the same. “You’re bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” She peeked over his shoulder to see the woman, Monica, heading in their direction. Something about her made Angelique and Kira feel very apprehensive. “Who is that?”
Connor grimaced, and his gaze hardened. “Someone I know. Let’s get you taken care of, and I’ll talk to her.” He cast a glance at the woman. “Outside.”
Monica crossed her arms over her chest and stayed where she was, which, thankfully, wasn’t anywhere closer. “Who the fuck is that, Connor? Why are you dressed up? Are you cheating on me?”
Connor had some explaining to do. This woman had barged into Angelique’s home, accusing him of cheating, and Angelique didn’t particularly enjoy feeling like the other woman. No, she refused to get caught in their little lover’s spat. He shouldn’t have even come if what Monica said was true. Yet from the way Connor acted and what he’d said before he’d answered the door… She wanted to trust him, but she found it hard to compare to Monica’s supermodel beauty.
Angelique’s uneasiness skyrocketed, and nausea washed over her. Kira crouched as if ready to stretch out of Angelique’s skin and take shape, but Angelique shoved energy at her to shut her down before she had the chance. Despite her effort, Kira still managed to slash out with a claw, and from Connor’s flinch, Angelique could tell she’d snagged him.
Connor stared down at her with a raised eyebrow. “Why did you do that?”
Denying it wouldn’t be good. He’d get suspicious if she did. Then again, she wasn’t in a great position to argue with him while he gently held her in his arms.
“What are you doing in my house when you’re obviously with someone else now?” She tried not to sound as hurt as she felt. She never should’ve let him come into her house. She should’ve just ignored him and gone to bed.
Needing to be away from him, Angelique squirmed in his grip, and he reluctantly let her go. She backed away, and Monica walked up behind Connor. She placed her hand on his arm and frowned, gathering blood from a slice in his sleeve. Her eyes narrowed as if she understood what had happened, and with a snarl, she leapt through the air toward Angelique.
Before Angelique could even think about moving, Connor took the impact of Monica’s attack. He’d moved so quickly. One minute she’d stepped away, then he was there. It broke Angelique from her frozen state, and she darted for the bedroom.
“Angel, wait. I can explain.” Connor’s voice had taken on a gravelly tone. One that sent shivers down her spine. That wasn’t the voice of the man she had loved.
She closed the door behind her, locked it, and leaned against it. Her thoughts were too scattered. Control, she needed the control. Angelique buckled to her knees. Her skin rapidly stretched, ripping through her shirt and jacket. Biting her lower lip, she held back a cry of agony. Her head bowed forward, and she panted as the pain gradually eased. Where the pain had been, emptiness rushed over her. A big, furry body brushed against her and nudged her with its muzzle.
Angelique looked up at the large black panther staring down at her. If it had been any other place or any other cat, she’d be scared out of her mind. Kira would die without a place to rest. Besides, they had a friendship and a bond that went deep.
Kira’s head snapped up, and she crouched. A growl rumbled from her feline lips. The hair on the back of her neck and along her spine stood in black spikes.
Damn it! Not now.
Angelique crawled to Kira and placed her hand against the panther’s side. Kira gently nipped in reproach. Sighing, she pulled herself upright, waiting to see what would happen now. Little chance remained that she’d get out of this unscathed. Somehow, she’d have to figure out what to tell Connor about the scratch on his arm. She doubted he’d let that go. And then there was the melanistic black leopard in her bedroom. If he opened the door, she’d be screwed.
While Angelique could send Kira away, that would be dangerous for her and Angelique. There was enough time for Kira to absorb back into her skin. Besides, Angelique knew there could be dangerous consequences. Some of her kind had died or succumbed to the will of their familiar. The animal’s power strengthened after becoming real and the master’s own faded. She didn’t want to suffer through either option right now. Pulling herself together, she stood on s
haky legs.
A fist tapped against the door. “Angelique? I need to talk to you.”
“Get her out of my house, or I won’t leave this bedroom. I’ll call the police.” Angelique nudged Kira toward her master bathroom. Of course, Kira didn’t want to go, and she was heavy and stubborn. Angelique sent a sharp thought to Kira, and the black panther finally let herself be guided toward the master bathroom. Thank goodness. “Don’t test me, Connor. You know I will.”
Connor sighed, and the sound was close, as if he had leaned his forehead against the door. He seemed so weary, and a piece of the ice on her heart melted a little to hear him like that. She didn’t want Connor to sound so sad, but she had to remind herself that he’d brought this on himself.
“I’ll get her out of here.”
Angelique shooed Kira into the bathroom and knelt so she was face-to-face with the big cat. She lowered her voice. “If you tear up my bathroom, I’ll skin your hide. Understand?”
Kira huffed and tossed her head before settling onto Angelique’s plush bathroom rug. She winced, but cat hair was nothing compared to Kira potentially hurting someone or, worse yet, showing herself.
Angelique shut Kira into the bathroom and headed back toward the bedroom door. She placed her ear against it and listened.
“You shouldn’t have come here. What the hell were you thinking?” Connor’s voice was gravelly and low again.
Monica’s heels tapped on the hardwood floor. “What was I thinking? What was I thinking?” She laughed. “I’m not the one that should have to answer that question. You’re pathetic coming here. You could have something so much better with me. I want you, and I understand you. Do you think she’ll ever understand or care about you the way I do? Do you? You’re wasting your time. Not too much longer, and—”
A fierce growl curled beneath the door, and if Angelique hadn’t had her ear pressed against it, she would’ve thought it had come from Kira in the bathroom, except again…it sounded more canine. “How dare you! Get out of here. Now.”
“Make me. Obviously, you’re set on staying here, but I won’t make it easy for you.”
Angelique wanted to punch her in her perfect nose. Jealousy hit her in the gut like a sledgehammer. Shit.
She still loved Connor.
Chapter Two
Connor couldn’t believe he’d been so close to having at least a tolerable evening with Angelique for the first time in too long, and now he had to deal with Monica. When Angelique had first left him, he’d rebounded with the other woman, but he’d quickly recognized his mistake. Monica didn’t know when to accept that it was over. She was a werewolf, like him, and in her mind, they made a perfect match.
He couldn’t stand her snobbish ways. And while she was beautiful, she didn’t know when to just shut up. They could never be mates.
Monica stared him down and cocked her chin up a notch, daring him to do something. She knew he didn’t like to hit women. That was part of his upbringing, something he cherished, but if she didn’t back down and act sensible about this, she’d test his patience.
No, there had to be a way around that. He didn’t want to fight. When werewolves fought, it wasn’t in human form. And wolves didn’t care about things like damaged furniture or lamps.
He hefted her over his shoulder, and she let out a surprised gasp. She didn’t do anything for a moment, whether she was too stunned or because she liked it, he didn’t know. When he rushed to the door, her fists smacked against his back and she bucked in his arms.
“Set me down, damn it. Don’t make me fucking hurt you,” she shouted.
He reached for the doorknob, but her legs slammed into him hard, driving air from his lungs. His grip on her slipped, and she landed, wobbling on her stilettos. How she kept her balance in those, he’d never know. Her palms slammed into his chest, driving him back a few steps.
His eyebrows rose. Maybe he’d underestimated her ability to fight. She’d taken advantage of his distraction well.
Her lips quirked into a wicked smile—the same look that had driven him to her, but he wouldn’t let it affect him now. Right now, he needed to get her out of here.
“Come on. Don’t make me fight you.” He nodded his head toward the door. “You know it wouldn’t go well.”
Her smile turned into a frown, and anger lit up her eyes. “I’m not afraid of you. Your absence has made me a stronger person. I’ll fight for you, even if I have to fight you.” She balled her hands into fists. Her petite shoulders tensed, and she stabbed her finger into his chest. “You could do so much better than that piece of trash. I mean look at this place—”
Before he could stop himself, he grabbed her by the arm, twisting it behind her back hard enough to drive a gasp from her lips. He tossed open the door and swung her through it. “Get out of here, now.”
Monica stumbled down the steps, falling to her knees. She slowly turned her head, and her eyes were wolf-amber. A low growl emanated from her lips. “You’ll regret that.”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You shouldn’t test me. You know I’m not with you. You just don’t listen. Leave now and I won’t tell the Alpha.”
She scoffed but looked startled. “What? That you’re trying to mate with a human rather than partake of a willing wol—” A man with a small dog walked down the sidewalk, casting both of them wary glances. “Woman.” Her lips pulled back from her teeth, and she shot the man a glare. He hurried down the street, crossing at the corner.
“With how you’ve acted, I think he won’t hesitate to take my side. Face it, he knows how you are.” His words carried false bravado. He had no idea whose side the Alpha would take. Not with how things had gone the last time he’d seen Lowell face-to-face.
Connor turned and walked back inside. He glanced through the peephole when he got in to see Monica still on her knees staring down at her hands. She tilted her face up to the moon and screamed before rising to her feet.
“You’re wrong.” Monica’s whispered words didn’t have much conviction. Maybe she didn’t believe them. She darted to her car, which she’d parked right behind his.
While he felt sorry for her, she’d been there when they’d been before their leader. He couldn’t think of how else to explain that there was nothing between them. He wanted Angelique, and that was all. He didn’t know what he’d do if she turned him down again. His time for convincing her how much she meant to him was running out.
He strode toward her bedroom door. Standing before it, he raised his arm to knock, but the rip in his sleeve drew his attention. He hadn’t noticed it before while he was worrying over Angelique.
Lifting the sleeve to his nose, he sniffed it. Cat. Odd. Angelique didn’t have pets. He’d have noticed. He took a huge whiff of the air in the hallway. When he’d held Angelique, he’d heard a growl…but he’d thought it was Monica.
If she was a feline shapeshifter, he should have been able to detect it before. It didn’t make any sense. He always smelled shifters. With a brisk knock on her door, he stepped back and waited. If she was a werecat, his mating predicament had stepped to a new level of headache. Werewolves didn’t mingle with other shifters.
“What?” she asked.
“Monica is gone. You can come out now.” Connor leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.
Angelique sighed. “Why should I? What do you want from me? Why did you come here?”
Frowning, he wiped a hand over his face. “I want to talk. You haven’t given me much of a chance since we were last together. I want my side heard too. It’s not fair of you to decide one day to shut me out. Besides, like I said, I want you to have a good birthday. You deserve one.”
He didn’t have much more fight in him after dealing with Monica, and he didn’t want the evening to end this badly. Maybe he had screwed up by coming here.
No, he’d risked a lot to have Angelique in his life. He wouldn’t back down.
The lock clicked, and the door to Angelique’s b
edroom opened. She stood in the doorway and stared up at him before glancing around his shoulder.
“She’s gone,” he said.
“Who was she?”
He sighed, not wanting to discuss Monica right now. He needed to talk to Angelique about why he was here. Her. “It’s a long story.”
Her gaze flicked to his face, and she let out a breath. Her hunched shoulders lowered as her tension drained away. “Okay. You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”
With a nod, he walked back to the kitchen. She followed, wearing a different shirt and jacket now. His suspicions tugged him back to thoughts of her being a werecat. He took a deep breath. She smelled entirely human. Damn. Any lingering trace of cat had vanished.
He grabbed the paper bag he’d brought with him and pulled out the chicken and pasta. He’d planned her favorite meal, Chicken Florentine. And as an added touch, he’d purchased flowers. She gasped behind him, and he twisted to see her standing next to the counter where he’d placed them. Her wide eyes lit up her face as she took them in. Then, as if a light had switched off, she glanced at him like he’d done something wrong. That didn’t disguise the way she sniffed them or gently ran her fingertips over the vase.
“Thanks.” She moved over to a stool at the kitchen island. She placed her elbows on the counter and rested her chin in her hands.
“You’re welcome.” He put the chicken in a skillet, and then set the pasta to boil in hot water as awkward silence stretched between them. He glanced over at her, and she stared him. The silence finally got to him. He turned to face her. “What happened?”
She frowned at him, and her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What?”
“Between us. Things had been going so well…then…” He shook his head. “Then…what? What changed your mind?”
Her face fell, and she turned away from him. She had an answer but was too nervous to tell him what it was. No, she couldn’t keep it from him. He had to know what was going through her mind, since she was all that was on his. God, he’d missed seeing her.
