Layla Nash - A Valentine's Chase (City Shifters: the Pride)

by Unknown

  "Not the most romantic thing anyone's ever said to me, but I'll take it." Rafe eased to his feet and offered me a hand.

  My hand slipped easily into his and sudden vertigo seized me, throwing the world out of focus and off balance. My vision blurred and the bookstore disappeared, and instead I saw a beautiful apartment with a view of the city, comfortable furnishings, and dinner cooking on the stove. He walked through the apartment in jeans and bare feet, eating an apple as he frowned at a phone, and he spoke to me. Me, where I stood at the stove and stirred something. The perfect apartment, the perfect man, the perfect life. I drew a sharp breath and the world jolted again. I staggered, back in the bookstore, and almost fell. Would have tumbled right to the floor if Rafe hadn't been there to catch me, to hold me close and tight until I could press my face against his chest and inhale him.

  He stroked my hair and bent his knees until we both eased back to the stool — although I occupied his lap instead of my seat. Rafe held me close. "What's wrong? Is it your leg?"

  "Just a little — a little dizzy, is all." I shook my head, blinking to clear a few odd wisps of smoke from my vision. Or the future. Our future together. It couldn't be. Smith's book said something about fortune telling as part of inspiration, and having visions of possible futures, but I'd never experienced anything like that before. It had been so clear, so real...

  "Sorry, I didn't mean to land on you."

  "You didn't," he said, and for a long moment, his lips drifted across my temple. He kissed my forehead and nuzzled the sensitive spot behind my ear. "I captured you fair and square."

  I should have gotten up immediately, excused myself, and hobbled out to my car. The man did something to my judgment until I didn't have any left. But instead I rested my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes, reveling in the safety and security of his arms. Nothing could hurt me with Rafe around; I knew it as certainly as I'd ever known anything in my life. He made a grumbly growly noise in his chest, dangerously close to a purr, and it vibrated through me as he played with my hair. Rafe kissed my forehead again. "Best palm reading I've ever had."

  I laughed and looked up at him, dazzled by the dark eyes that had lightened to a beautiful gold-brown. "Except you'd never had one before, liar."

  "It's not a lie." He touched my cheek, those thick fingers gentle as he brushed my hair back over my ear. "It's the truest thing I've ever said."

  I shook my head, still laughing, and tried to untangle myself from his embrace. "Either way, I can't canoodle with a customer at work."

  "Then let's get out of here and back to your place," he said, almost under his breath but not quite, and made me laugh more. He steadied me as I stood, his lucky palms drifting down my hips and even ghosting over my butt in a gentle pat.

  "Hold on," I said, and poked him in the chest to make sure I had his attention. I dropped my voice before going on, though, and looked around to make sure no one would overhear. "I'm still trying to figure this stuff out, and I don't know if I buy this romance stuff. I don't even know who I am anymore. So if we're going to try this out, you have to slow down."

  "I will," he said, and even raised his hands in surrender. "You have my word. I'll be a sloth until you tell me otherwise."

  "Think glacier," I said. I picked up Smith's cane and my book, and headed for the break room where I'd left my purse and jacket. When I glanced back, I caught him staring at my ass as I walked away, and every part of me immediately flushed. I tried to scowl when he looked up and caught me catching him, but Rafe laughed — a deep belly laugh that bubbled up from his feet, it looked like — until my lips twitched and a smile escaped.

  He held up his hands, shaking his head. "Sorry. I got distracted."

  Right. Distracted. The man who had more focus than anyone I'd ever met. Even as I retrieved my stuff and punched out, saying good-bye to my manager, I debated the wisdom of actually having dinner with him. Smith trusted him, and everything in me screamed to trust Rafe as well, but he was too... perfect. Far too perfect. And even more so if I figured in the flash of possibilities that had almost knocked me off my feet. My pessimistic side told me it would have to end, too good to be true. But I had a fridge full of groceries and no desire or energy to cook.

  He waited near the counter, smiling and flipping his keys around his finger, and one of my co-workers hovered nearby, eying him like a winning lotto ticket. But he only looked at me, holding out his hand. "Ready?"

  I concentrated on zipping up my coat and adjusting my scarf as I tried to juggle the cane and purse and book, frowning down at the ground so I wouldn't trip on anything as Rafe led the way to the parking lot. The sun had set but the security lights weren't on, so at first I thought it was just a shadow. Just a patch of ice, maybe. Then it moved, streaking out from behind a car, and a flash of white distracted me. Teeth.

  It was already growling and in the air when I finally figured out it was a wolf. I opened my mouth to scream for Rafe to kill it but my arm was already moving, already swinging. The cane whistled through the air and Rafe tried to block the wolf, snarling and shoving me behind him. I stumbled, caught his arm for balance, and the cane flew out of my grip. It smacked into the wolf's side with a solid thump, and the beast fell. Stunned and still, it collapsed on the broken pavement.

  Rafe stayed between me and the threat, his phone already in his hand as he watched the silent wolf and scanned the rest of the parking lot for other threats. "Ruby. Get the pack over to the bookstore. There's at least one."

  My hands trembled as I stared at the limp body, a strange rushing noise in my ears. I hoped, oddly enough, that it wasn't dead. I didn't want to be the one to kill something, even if it was a wolf that wanted to kill me. There was a person in there. And the idea that I might have just taken away someone's mother or father made me nauseated.

  Rafe toed the cane away from the wolf and nudged me to pick it up. "I don't want to touch that stick, in case it knocks everyone but you out. And it's probably better if you're armed with that at all times from now on."

  "Who is it?" I whispered, stooping to grab the cane with numb fingers. "Why would they — they were waiting out here?"

  He hugged me close for a brief moment, then half-carried me toward a sleek sedan parked next to my junker. He helped me into his car and shut the door gently once I'd dragged the cane and cast inside, and didn't speak until he was inside and the doors were locked. Rafe still frowned out his window at the still wolf in the middle of the dark parking lot. "It might have been a sentry, someone sent to warn the rest when you were headed home. Or maybe they were here for me."

  But by the look on his face, I doubted it. The wolf wanted to kill me. It hunted me. Me. My breath came faster and the nausea burbled up, a bitter wash in my mouth, and I reached for the door handle. "I think I need to —"

  He moved fast, putting a plastic bag in front of me before I could open the door, and he even held my hair back as I coughed and retched. Luckily I hadn't eaten much lunch, so there wasn't much to embarrass myself with. Except my teary eyes and runny nose and the awful taste in my mouth. My entire body shook as I tried to compose myself and mop up my face with a few tissues in my purse. "I'm so sorry, I don't know —"

  "It's totally normal." He tied the bag up and placed it on the floorboards in the backseat, out of sight and out of mind, and gently squeezed my shoulder. "Completely normal, Meadow, to react physically to an attack like that. It's the adrenaline and stress. Just breathe through your nose, focus on me, count backwards from ten."

  I did as he said, staring at his beautiful gold eyes, and my racing heart started to slow. I couldn't look away, and as I fell into a haze, almost mesmerized by his soothing voice and intense focus, I figured the wolf outside wasn't nearly as dangerous as the one in the car with me.

  Chapter 13

  Rafe tried to distract Meadow from the attack and the still body of the wolf in the parking lot, while continuing to search for new threats and the rest of his pack. In a matter of minutes, tw
o cars rolled up and Ruby got out. She took in the scene, started giving orders, and waved for Rafe to take off. She understood. She knew. If it had been Carter shaken up in the car, she would have gotten him to safety first and let Rafe take care of the clean up. So Rafe squeezed Meadow's hand and pulled away from the bookstore.

  She still trembled and periodically took deep, shaky breaths that sounded like a struggle. He searched for a safe topic, not wanting to remind her of the attacks or anything dangerous, and finally glanced at her to measure her response. "When did you learn to read palms?"

  Meadow hugged herself, staring out the window, and for a moment, Rafe feared she'd gone completely into shock. Most people didn't deal well with being attacked by a wild animal, or really with being attacked at all. Most of the humans in the city would never face something that truly wanted to kill them. He debated driving to the shifter hospital instead of her apartment, to make sure she would be okay, but Meadow took another one of those scary deep breaths and turned a little in the seat to face him. "In college."

  "Oh?" He wished she would just start talking, and keep talking, not just because he wanted to distract her but because he loved the sound of her voice. Loved the feeling of driving her somewhere, with her safe and warm in his car. "Why palms?"

  "I was always good at guessing stuff about people," she said, a tiny frown between her eyebrows giving her a puzzled look. "It worked better when I could touch them. I know how to read tarot, but I'm much better with palms. I didn't think much of it, honestly, until Smith told me..."

  She trailed off as Rafe stopped at a light, waiting for traffic to clear. "Smith told you what?"

  "What I am." Meadow rubbed her eyes and started shivering again. "It's a lot to take in."

  "I'm sure it is." Rafe double-checked the intersection, even with a green light, to verify they were safe before he accelerated again. No use taking stupid risks with his mate next to him. "Was Smith able to explain everything to you? About what you are, what you can do, what the rest of us are?"

  "Sort of," she said. Meadow adjusted where the cane leaned on the seat next to her, her long fingers sliding along the intricate carvings. "I'm a muse, I guess. I don't know if he told you that?"

  "He didn't." Rafe's head cocked to the side as the wolf tried to puzzle through what the fuck a muse was. Wolves didn't understand that, and Rafe didn't really get it, either. So he took a deep breath and tried to remember Meadow had been shoved into the deep end of shifter politics and a surreal-reality. "Those sorts of things are your secret to tell, Meadow. You own who and what you are, so if you want to tell me more, I'd love to hear it. And if you want to keep it to yourself, that's your decision as well."

  She studied him, her body shifting slightly so she faced him still more, and her arm rested on the console — close enough to touch. "Thank you. I don't think I'm ready to talk about that."

  "Understood." He was disappointed, sure, but he stood by what he'd said. No use in badgering her to tell him everything, not when the relationship between them was so fragile and uncertain. Rafe frowned as he stopped at another light. "Do you have groceries at home or should we pick some up?"

  "Smith sent me home with food," she said, and laughed under her breath. "Typical. But there's plenty there to make whatever. Spaghetti or grilled chicken or soup."

  "Any preference?"

  She drew her good leg up onto the seat in front of her as he drove through and turned toward her neighborhood. "Spaghetti sounds pretty good, come to think of it. Unless..."

  Rafe looked at her. "Unless what?"

  "Is garlic a problem? I mean, can you eat it, or does it make you sick?" Her nose wrinkled as Meadow looked at him, a hint of anxiety in her eyes. "I know that's vampires, but I thought..."

  He wanted to kiss her so badly he nearly stopped the car in the middle of the street. Rafe maintained a somber expression, though, and nodded. "Well, there are some side-effects."

  "Really?" Meadow's eyes got bigger and her hand caught his wrist. "Like what?"

  "Well." Rafe parked the car in front of her apartment block, already dissatisfied with where she lived. The Chases knew a good realtor; as soon as Rafe got the issues sorted out with BadCreek's random attacks, he would start searching for a better apartment, for both of them. Together. He cleared his throat as he undid his seatbelt and then reached to assist with hers, which left them nose-to-nose. And lips-to-lips, practically. He hesitated and she leaned in, hazel eyes unblinking. Rafe murmured, "Bad breath, to start," and he pressed his lips to hers in a gentle kiss. "Eventually, solitude and loneliness. Living in a cave because no one can stand the smell of —"

  "Oh, cut it out." She smacked his shoulder but laughed, a hint of a flush in her cheeks as she fumbled with the door and the cane and her cast. "That's not funny."

  He begged to differ. But he only went around the car to give her a hand, carrying her bag and a small leather-bound book she held, and offered his arm for her to lean on. "You're right, living like a hermit is not at all —"

  "You're terrible," she said under her breath, but when he caught her in his peripheral vision, she still smiled. "Just for that, I should make you carry me up the stairs."

  Rafe didn't hesitate. Didn't even think before the wolf part of his brain moved and he scooped her up. Meadow yelped and his entire fucking side went numb where the cane brushed him, and for a second he considered dropping her, just for self-preservation. But he knew she'd never forgive him. That would always haunt them, and might give her the wrong impression — the idea that she was anything but perfect. So he pretended that he didn't have pins and needles shooting through his entire left side, from his shoulder to his hip, and managed to keep his voice calm as she tried to strangle him in terror. "You don't even have to ask, babe."

  Her laugh escaped, breathless, but terror lurked in her eyes as she shook her head. "You can put me down. I was only joking. Because, you know, it's not —"

  "Helping you could never be anything but a pleasure and a gift," he said, and started toward the door. He sure as hell wasn't going to watch her struggle up the stairs. Rafe squeezed her tight to his chest, loving the soft give of her curves in his arms. "Besides, it's been a long day and your leg must be killing you. I'm happy to carry you wherever you want to go."

  "You're crazy." She held her breath as he trotted up the stairs, as if she didn't believe he'd make it up the two flights without needing to pause or set her down, and when he finally set her back on her feet, right outside her door, Meadow gave him a sideways look. "Seriously. You're crazy. What are you on, steroids?"

  "Crazy about you, maybe." Rafe winked and followed her into the kitchen. She snorted and waved a hand, as if to dismiss him, and Rafe folded his arms over his chest. He'd had enough of the casual way she undermined her own worth, her own lovability. When Meadow limped past him to retrieve a large pot from the cupboard, he caught her face in his hands and held her in front of him. "Hold on a sec. Listen to me for a moment, Meadow, and then you're going to go put your foot up and I'm going to make you dinner."

  Her eyebrows rose and she started to look nervous. "Yeah?"

  "You're perfect." The wolf wanted to growl and pace as she made another disbelieving sound and looked away. His thumbs stroked her cheeks until Meadow looked at him, and tears made her hazel eyes more green. Rafe leaned his forehead against hers, so she would hear every syllable and every breath. "You are everything I always wanted and never thought I deserved. You're amazing and funny and smart and tough and kind. You're perfect. Don't put yourself down. Please. It hurts me to hear you treat yourself like that. You deserve to be taken care of and pampered and loved. Got it?"

  A few tears spilled down her cheeks and across his hands, and he couldn't take it. He kissed her again, tasting the salt from her grief as well as the minty lip gloss she used. Meadow didn't pull away but she didn't kiss him back, so Rafe retreated after a moment. The wolf settled a little, though he didn't like their mate's unhappiness. "Okay?"

 
Meadow took a shaky breath, then abruptly leaned against him, buried her face against his chest, and linked her arms around him. Rafe hugged her back, squeezed her tightly, and waited. Her breathing, uneven and jerky, betrayed there were more than a few tears waiting to escape. Rafe rested his chin on top of her head and inhaled her, content to hold her as she cried and struggled to really hear what he'd said. He didn't know her history, but from the things she'd said, he gathered there weren't many times when she had the opportunity to build confidence in herself and her talents.

  It seemed like just a blink before she straightened, dragging herself away even though her hands rested against his sides, and she gave him a watery look. "I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from."

  Rafe kissed the end of her nose. "Don't apologize. Feel like talking about it?"

  She didn't answer right away, and instead shuffled to the other side of the galley kitchen while Rafe filled the pot with water and set it on the stove. When he turned back, Meadow had a bottle of wine in one hand and two glasses in the other. She took a shaky breath as she started to uncork the bottle. "I might need some of this to give me courage."

  Rafe chuckled. "I know what you mean."

  He puttered around the kitchen, making the sauce and even a few pieces of garlic bread, and was almost halfway done by the time she spoke. Meadow started and stopped twice, her entire face red as she played with a stray coin on the table. She adjusted where she propped up her cast and then started for the third time. "Everyone thought I was crazy, when I was little. Well, and all the way through college, too. Boys didn't want to be seen with me, girls didn't want to be my friend. My parents committed me to a mental health facility when I was in middle school, because they thought I was hallucinating and maybe schizophrenic or bipolar or something they couldn't really define. And I thought something was wrong with me, too — I mean, fairies and pixies and gnomes didn't actually exist, and yet I had a whole phalanx of them running around in my backyard. But no one else could see or hear them, and they seemed so real..."