"We should dry off,” they said together, then laughed lightly.
Trina slithered against his body as she stood, then reached for the towels hanging on the bar next to the tub.
"You'd make a eunuch erect.” He peeled his sodden jeans down his legs. It might as well have been a wetsuit.
Trina smiled and blotted the water from his chest. “I don't have a snappy comeback for that one."
"Maybe that will also help lessen the sting of embarrassment as I unman myself trying to get these jeans off."
She rubbed the plush terrycloth over his nipple, doubling the stress load below. “I'll grab that wine and meet you in my room then.” She arched her eyebrow with her naughty smile. “I presume you can find it?"
"Your scent is permanently imprinted on my brain, my beauty. I can find you anywhere."
Trina jerked upright. Wyatt realized his mistake too late. It sucked the air right out of the room. My beauty. His endearment for Ka-ra, exclusively hers until this moment. And Trina knew that.
She tossed the towel over his shoulder. “I think we're way overdue for our talk. I'll be waiting in the living room."
Wyatt knew better than to argue. Begging for forgiveness was also out of the question—Trina would have lost what little respect she had remaining for him if he did. But if he walked out there and found her in a snit ... Well, respect went both ways.
After finally extricating himself from the straitjacket called wet jeans, Wyatt scuffed the towel over himself, cleaned up what little mess they'd made in the bathroom, and hauled on a fresh pair of jeans. He didn't bother with anything else.
He found Trina perched like a pampered queen in the corner of her pillow-soft blue sofa. She sure loved blue—the entire house was decorated in some shade of the color. She wore her blue robe again, and he couldn't help wondering if there was anything under it but her.
Don't get too far ahead of yourself, buddy.
Her bare feet tucked under her, she'd filled two glasses with wine, and a fresh bottle sat uncorked on the low coffee table in front of the sofa. Two matching chairs winged the sofa. She could have chosen either of those, physically and psychologically putting distance between them. She didn't. Wyatt liked that.
She'd dried her hair while he fought the jeans battle. Dark waves, shiny and full, draped over her shoulders, begging for his fingers tangling through it.
"Would you like anything to eat?” she asked. “I have fruit, cheese, crackers. I could make an omelet."
"I'm good.” He eased down on the opposite corner of the sofa. If she stretched out, her toes would brush his thigh. He'd pull them into his lap, trace each digit, and run his fingers straight up to her moist heat.
She tossed her hair over her shoulders. A flash of white caught his gaze. Just as quickly, it disappeared into the mass of dark brown.
"Gray hair?” she asked.
He was surprised to find a glimmer of amusement in her eyes, but wasn't sure how honest he should be.
"Don't worry about it.” She reached for their wineglasses. Her robe sagged open, revealing her bare breasts. Wyatt's mouth watered for a taste.
She leaned back and cut off his view as she handed his wineglass to him. “I've found quite a few of them in the last six months. I tried pulling them out, but they still win. I swear they appeared overnight."
Their fingers brushed as he took the glass. “Considering what you went through that day, I'm not surprised."
"Factoring in all the other changes I've experienced, it's just the tip of the iceberg. I'd love to blame the gray hair on that, but I suspect it's hereditary. My mother's hair was pure white by the time she was thirty. What few pictures she had of her parents show the same thing for them."
"You didn't know them?"
She shook her head. “No, seems they all died young. Which is a hereditary condition I really hope to avoid. They all seem to have died in their early thirties. You can imagine my concern now.” She took a sip of wine. “So, what exactly did happen in that cenote? Please feel free to talk down to me and keep this at a level that doesn't make me think too hard. I've done way too much of that lately.” Trina leaned into the cushions and took a sip of wine.
Wyatt set his glass on the end table and scooted closer to her. “I don't know how to make a complicated story simple, Trina. Why don't we start with you asking a question, and I'll build from there?"
"Seems fair.” She conceded the point with a tilt of her head. “For about twenty-four hours I possessed the soul of your dead wife. How?” She lifted her finger. “And why?"
"Years ago Ka-ra was captured by skinwalkers. The female needed a new body to house her. Skinwalkers trap the soul in an empowered ceiba tree and keep the body for their use until it wears out, then the search is on for another body. Souls are intertwined with the ceiba tree wood and the skinwalker. Anything made of this particular tree will possess those souls. If so much as a splinter is injected into a body, souls will begin to present themselves in that body. I had acquired and kept a dart I knew possessed Ka-ra's soul. I accidentally brushed by you, and a piece broke off into your skin."
Trina nodded. “That's the how and the why, I suppose. I know you had an antidote that reversed the process."
"I did. I still do, actually, even though we destroyed the tree and the skinwalkers in the cenote."
"By skinwalkers, I presume you mean the Prentices, correct? The ones who hired us to go to the Yucatán."
"They were the last of their kind, thank God. They paid you all very well for the honor of killing you and taking over your souls. I was merely along for the ride but equally as expendable.” He draped his arm over the back of the sofa and brushed his fingers over her shoulder. “It played hell with my conscience. I knew what they intended—to take over two bodies and kill everyone else. But we'd searched for them for so long. It was the first time we'd managed to get so close."
"You nearly died yourself, as I recall."
"True.” And several had died. If it hadn't been for Sebastian and Lauren Garner, none of them would be here today. “Sebastian managed to destroy them and the ceiba tree that trapped the souls."
"I'm a little fuzzy on some of the details, but I clearly recall a tree trying to grow in me or from me.” She shook her head, as if she could dispel such weird thoughts, and took another sip.
"Once Ka-ra's soul was released from you, you would have been exhausted, ill, disoriented. Perhaps you might have even passed the entire episode off as a nightmare."
"Everything was too clearly etched in my mind, Wyatt.” She stared beyond him, as if seeing it all again. “I had Ka-ra's memories up to a point. They were centered on her life, family, friends ... you. A love like that ... it obsessed me. She was a lucky woman to be so treasured."
Wyatt cupped her chin, urging her gaze to his. “And I was a lucky man. For centuries I longed for her. I was driven by revenge. When it was done, I had nothing, no purpose, still barely existing."
Trina eased away but said nothing.
He gave her a halfhearted smile, pulled in a breath, and dropped his hand to her knee. “Now. Tell me everything you've been experiencing."
"In a minute. I need more blanks filled in. I need to know what's real in my head, and what isn't. How long have your people existed?"
Wyatt turned his palms up in a shrug. “How long has any of us existed?"
Trina stared a hole through him. She wasn't going to give him a free ride.
"Our creation myth indicates our people were born of stardust—"
"Wyatt...” Her tone warned him against bullshit.
"All right. Scientists have theorized life began on Earth from the seeds of comets. As my people have been told, and as we've come to understand things, when the meteor that formed the Chicxulub crater fell to Earth, it brought with it life-altering properties. Those properties, mutations, created the shape-shifters, but they also created the skinwalkers, who eventually fed on us."
"Which I'm sure was quite a coup for them, since yo
ur people have such long lives."
"I'm sure they thought so, too, until they realized we were also shape-shifters. They couldn't handle that."
She tilted her head, as if studying him more closely, delving beneath the layers of his life. “But it didn't stop them from taking your people."
Wyatt retrieved his glass as he shook his head. “No. We waged war on each other until only the two elusive ones remained. We were thousands now down to one dozen."
"And the skinwalkers no longer exist at all."
"Don't pity them, Trina. They were evil personified.” He took a healthy sip. “They murdered without conscience or regret. And not just our people. They destroyed the Olmecs. They plagued those who'd occupied Mesa Verde. Anywhere civilizations were wiped off the face of the Earth without a clue of who they were and where they went, you'll find skinwalkers behind their annihilation. The gods only know what worlds they destroyed before coming to this planet."
"Which now brings us back to me.” She set her glass aside and turned to face him fully. “This dart housing Ka-ra's soul came from the skinwalkers’ ‘collection,’ for lack of a better word. Couldn't it have been contaminated with their souls as well?"
"Skinwalkers have no souls.” He'd snapped at her without meaning to do so, but Wyatt couldn't take the words back. “It's why they steal others'."
"No.” She shook her head. “They were stealing bodies, not souls. The souls were a collateral acquisition. They had original souls."
"I can't stand the thought of something so evil having a soul. It's not possible."
Trina peeled his tight grip from the glass. Wyatt didn't realize until then he'd been holding it tight enough to break. She caressed the back of his hand, took the wineglass from him, and set it next to hers.
"Then we'll call it a life force, one determined to live at any cost without conscience."
Yes, that summed up the creatures nicely.
"Wyatt...” Trina cupped his hand between hers. Dark eyes locked onto his face. The pain there, the fear, wrenched his heart. Tears flooded her eyes. Her lower lip trembled. “What if they found a way to get inside of me?"
"Oh, love, no.” He wrapped his arms around her, and she sagged into the embrace, palm and cheek nestled on his chest. Hot tears trickled into the hair there.
"Why, Wyatt? Why can't it be that? Is it so farfetched? You exist. They exist. Why can't this exist, too?” He stabbed his fingers deep into her hair, cradling her head.
"Trina, think of what you're—” Wyatt clamped his mouth shut. Anything was possible in the world. Why was he so quick to discredit what she was saying? Because he was afraid the skinwalkers had beaten them again, or because he was simply afraid they existed, and no one would be left to fight them?
"Why do you suspect this?” A fair question. They should evaluate this calmly, like the scientists they were. “Is there anything you haven't told me? You have Ka-ra's memories. You clearly have spots on your back."
She lifted her head. “Thank you for not accusing me of getting tattoos."
He cupped her cheek. “Never.” He followed up with a small smile. “You mentioned blackouts? How often? What happens?"
"Once a month for the first three months, then every two weeks for two, once a week by the sixth month. It starts as vertigo. I get nauseous. My head starts to buzz, and the sound grows to this awful roar, like being caught in a maelstrom. Then the pain slams into my head. Everything goes dark, and I feel like I go outside myself. Like I fall into nothingness. On some level, I feel like I'm having a convulsion. It feels like something's fighting to get out of me. Finally I come to. Sometimes I'm covered in blood, and I find scratches on my body. I'm panting like I've been running for hours. The pain in my head dissolves."
All of which indicated puberty and a first shifting for Wyatt's jaguar clan. “Anything else?"
A blush pinkened her cheeks. “I burn inside. It feels like a coal smoldering. It's gotten worse the last two weeks, then tonight..."
She didn't have to say any more. Wyatt knew. She'd found relief when they'd had sex. If by some miracle her body prepared for its first shift into cat form, the relief she'd experienced earlier was temporary at best.
"Do you burn now?” he asked.
Her flush deepened. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his hold.
"Answer me, Trina. Do you burn now?"
"Yes,” she whispered. “It feels like something's inside me trying to crawl out."
Wyatt saw the hunger deep in her eyes and knew it well ... from a male's perspective, at any rate. “I don't know how it's possible, Trina, but you show all the signs of a female going into heat, preparing for her first shift."
A frown furrowed the space between her eyebrows. “I understand what you're saying, but I don't know what that means."
"It means that if it's true, you're going to need help with the transformation, preparation. You hold Ka-ra's memories. Search back to her first time."
Her eyes shimmered into blue-black pools. Wyatt forced himself to breathe normally. Trina had actually gone inside herself to access the information stored in the recesses of her mind. That's when Wyatt knew for a fact it was true. He'd seen into her soul in those brief seconds.
Wyatt was alternately humbled and frightened by his role in helping her with a smooth transition. One mistake and she could die, and kill others in the process. Maybe she was right—that she'd already killed Rose. Under the circumstances, it was plausible. A female in heat without the proper guidance was lethal. Shape-shifters were prepared from the time they reached puberty until their first shift at maturity. It was up to Wyatt to provide that guidance, and he couldn't do that without the clan's help.
Trina returned to him, her eyes once more brown. “I see now how she felt, what she went through, her fear, her excitement, the relief afterward. It might have helped if I'd looked for answers there first, rather than track you down."
He shook his head. “You still would have needed my ... our help. This isn't something you can handle on your own, Trina. If you aren't prepared, the results will be disastrous for you and anyone who is around you."
"I understand,” she quietly replied. “I trust you."
Wyatt wished he could say the same of his clan.
* * * *
Trina almost asked Wyatt why he would care what happened to her, but she didn't want the confirmation that he didn't give a damn about her per se. Wyatt had made himself fairly clear in the bathroom when he'd called her my beauty. She was the physical embodiment of the woman he'd loved. She carried Ka-ra's memories and was the closest Wyatt could come to having Ka-ra back.
If she were honest with herself, Trina would have to admit that Ka-ra's memories were what had drawn her to Wyatt—El-ian—in the first place. But once she glimpsed him, once his scent imprinted on her, it was Trina who wanted him, not Ka-ra or any remnant of her emotions.
She'd been grateful for the not-so-subtle reminder of where she stood in Wyatt's eyes. Childhood garbage, life knocks, and experience had shown her long ago that it didn't pay to let your heart get involved.
Yet she didn't care that she was a replacement fuck for him. Trina wanted him. Wanted to feel the weight of his body shielding her from the world. Wanted to feel his force surround her and take charge of everything outside and inside the bubble of molten lust. Wanted the relief only Wyatt could provide to a heart left cold too long and a body never loved the way Trina needed.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Trina was ready to relinquish control to a man. And she owed that release solely to Ka-ra. Without that insight into Wyatt, all the turmoil of possibly being a shape-shifter, even the threat of her inevitable death as a result, wouldn't have been enough to compel her to submit to Wyatt, much less approach him in the first place.
"I suppose we should take this into my bedroom.” Trina fought the tremor in her voice, a reaction born of want and need.
"So clinical.” Wyatt smiled. Long fingers unknotted th
e belt around her waist. “Don't withhold, love. Don't fight what's inside. Let it loose. Let it free. Be yourself."
"That's part of the problem, Wyatt. I don't know who my self is anymore.” As if she ever did. She'd molded herself into a woman determined to survive, never to be a victim—cold, calculating, unemotional.
"Then let's start by tearing down the walls before you get eaten from the inside out."
Her pussy clenched with the words, juicing her clit. A mini-erection swelled it beyond the cushion of her labia.
Wyatt inhaled. “Yes, there's nothing I'd like more than the taste of your honey on my lips. And I will ... soon. First, we both know what you need, what you want, what you do in the nights that no one else would suspect."
The heat in her core spread outward. Trina could barely breathe at the thought. She slid her gaze from the intensity of his eyes. Wyatt caught her chin and forced her to look at him once more.
"There's no shame in it, sweet love. It's normal. We've all done it. You said you trust me. Then let me give this gift to you. Let me help relieve the tension you keep locked inside. Let me help you have full release."
Trina acknowledged his offer with a blink of her eyes, then found the courage to say, “Funny, I've always called it taming the beast inside. I've never trusted the secret with anyone. The tail lashing you gave me..."
He brushed his thumb over her lips. “We can thank Ka-ra's memories for showing you I would never degrade or hurt you, only give."
He cupped her face between his large hands and dropped a simple kiss to her mouth. Trina closed her eyes and let the touch seep into her bones. Anticipation tightened her nipples and made her ass clench for want of what was to come. Wyatt raked his hands down her neck and over her shoulders, pushing her robe down and off her arms.
"I feel like I'm unwrapping an ancient work of art.” His breath warmed her neck. “A goddess to be worshipped.” Hands cupped her breasts. “A treasure the entire world wants, but only I can have.” He tweaked her nipples.
A muffled groan tore from her throat. Trina arched into the hold, crying out when he pinched harder and twirled the tips.
Into the Night [Into the Heart 2] Page 8
