by KH LeMoyne
Chisholm’s fingers tensed at her nape, relaxing only when she extended her hand. Deacon bent over her hand and raised it to his face. As he glanced at Chisholm, a grumble erupted beside her, growing in intensity until she could feel the vibration where Chisholm’s body met hers.
“I see.” Deacon released her with a cagey smile and stepped back. “I promise to be civilized.”
Dani glanced up. Chisholm’s mouth was a rigid line, his eyes glimmering with a bright sheen of red. He hadn’t released her with Deacon’s handshake. If anything, Chisholm pulled her closer and gestured for Deacon to follow the others as they brought up the rear. For a moment, she thought the man might refuse, but with a quick look at her, he raised his hands in peace and followed his associates. She’d hesitate to call them friends, for their interaction seemed more formal, more of a practiced hierarchy.
“Care to explain his comment?” she whispered.
“Later. I promise. Shifters are on constant alert for finding their mates.”
“You don’t seem to trust them,” she added as the others ambled into the backyard. His mate reference troubled her, but it was a conversation for later.
“The relationship is new but important. My children may need more protection than I can give them. This clan will help ensure their safety.”
“Clan?” Chuckling, she stopped him and checked over her shoulder to ensure the others were in the backyard, out of earshot. “There are only three of them.”
“Deacon Black is a territory alpha over two thousand shifters in the northwestern continent.”
Her stomach dropped and spun. Chisholm pulled her against him. Vibrations modulated along her skin, a fine dulcet tone teasing her eardrums.
“It’s fine,” he said, searching her face for some reaction, but she’d steeled every emotion against the weakness he had the ability to induce in her. “He’s here because I called him. I just don’t do subservience well, and we all have to find our equilibrium.”
“Subservient? No, that isn’t a word I’d use to describe you.” She looked up and noted the sheepish expression on his face. Pushing back, she patted his chest. Not quite the platonic relationship she’d promised herself she’d maintain with him, but nothing about her interaction with Chisholm stayed in nice neat boxes. “The question is, do you trust them with the kids?”
“I read the scent of these wolves. They want my acceptance, not my rage. As hard as this meeting is, I know at least that much. They will be as protective of the children as you would.”
He had her back to the kitchen counter as he leaned toward her.
She shook her head, “I think you’re giving me too much credit. I’ve only done my job with Maggie. And the rest—”
Leaning even closer, he inhaled at her shoulder. “Make up whatever story eases your mind, Dani. My senses are five times better than any human’s. I can detect fear. And protective instincts. And lust.”
She blushed.
“Guess what I detected from you when Charlie demanded your attention? Or on the patio when Cabot was impressed with your suggestions for his reading selections for English class?” He pressed a finger to her lips. “No, don’t pretend they don’t affect you. I know what I sensed—anticipation and joy. You like them. And as you did with Maggie, you’d protect them.”
“That’s either an insightful skill you’ve got there, or a great line.” She cocked her brow, but the gold surrounding him flashed toward her, shimmering up her arms with distracting effect. “Most people are friendly to children. Especially engaging ones.”
“I can also scent your desire.” His smile widened. “Around me. If you think that’s a line, just ask any other shifter out there. Deacon was checking for a connection between us.”
The heat rose up her neck and her heart stammered as his fingers caressed her there. “Do you have any idea the thoughts you evoke in me?”
She could only imagine. If his responses ran parallel to hers, they’d both burst into flames. He rubbed his cheek against hers. She gasped as a purr rumbled around them. God, she loved that sound. Different from his fearsome warning against Deacon and unlike the instant ripple of soft purrs he emitted around his kids, the sound, like his touch, spun her deeper into whatever magic he wove. “I don’t think—”
“Good. Just feel,” he murmured, and covered her lips with his. Slowly, he licked across her lower lip and pulled back enough to check her response.
She tried not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction, but he didn’t retreat and leaned closer, pulling her into the heat with him. Almost cheek to cheek, he inhaled before she straightened.
It took everything she had not to turn her head and stare at him as he inhaled. Only the certainty their lips would be much too close if she did kept her rigid against the counter. “Why do you keep doing that? What are you checking for on my body?”
“I like the way you smell,” he said. She caught his smile from the corner of her eye. Then he moved back and picked up his beer for a long draught while she tracked his every movement. “You’re an anomaly to me, Dani.”
“Detective—”
His wide smile broadened, and the mischievous upturn of his full lips froze her words. “For today, can’t we just be ourselves?”
Unused to being out of control, Dani stared out at the backyard, anything to break the hold of his compelling smile and mesmerizing aura. Too much time in his presence and she’d sport a suntan, though thinking of his sensual layer of heat sent a new tremor through her. “For today—ourselves would be acceptable.” However, who that really was seemed to be increasingly unclear.
“We’ll strive for acceptable.” He picked up the vegetable platter Maggie had left on the counter. “And if you choose to walk the line of unacceptable, Dani, I promise I’ll never tell.”
She turned a harsh glare his way, one that had cowed lesser men. His smile erupted into a full-hearted laugh, ending in a deep and hypnotic growl. As if tied to him by spiderwebs, she felt the vibration from her cheeks, to her breasts, to her belly. And then, deliciously lower.
Thankfully, he had exited the kitchen before she completely shamed herself by melting into a puddle at his feet.
Dani’s scent hadn’t prepared Chisholm for the taste of her. Nothing could have prepared him for the satisfied rush he felt with her in his arms. Only with the utmost restraint had he kept from delving into their heated kiss and hoisting her onto the kitchen counter to explore his way down her body. He halted behind a chair and placed the platter on the table, wrestling to control the erection tormenting him.
The others had finished grilling and were already at their places eating, the absent vegetables not missed. No surprise there.
Deacon sat at the far end of the table cutting burger pieces for Charlie. The toddler shook his head at the smaller portions landing on his plate and pointed at Deacon’s and the remainder of the burger. The alpha laughed and switched plates, only to have Charlie pick up the burger in his little hands and cram it into his mouth.
His son’s eagerness for food didn’t surprise Chisholm, but seeing the alpha immersed in such a miniscule task as attending to his son, lightened the tightness in his chest.
Maggie slid a plate his way, and he sank into the seat in front of him with a measure of peace. Dani’s choice of seat next to him eased his concern that he’d pushed her too far.
Wharton rose, tossing his paper plate into the trash, and turned back rubbing his hands together as he glanced Maggie’s way. “Time for play?”
Chisholm didn’t realize he’d tensed again until Dani’s hand slid over his fist and squeezed. Before he could comment, Deacon’s comrade stalked away from the patio, rolled his shoulders with a grin, and took a running leap toward the backyard with a cry. “YOLO!”
Fully shifted before his paws touched the grass, Wharton spun around. In perfect unison with the shift, his clothes dissolved into space, the fibers mutating into white fur fringed with gray. Bright green eyes still held shifter intel
ligence. With a whip twist in the grass, the three-foot-tall silver wolf turned and barked at Maggie.
“That is so cool.” Maggie glanced toward Chisholm. “Can I do the thing with clothes?”
Hell if he knew. He couldn’t do that.
“It’s a clan trait. One you can leverage when you’re this close to us,” Deacon said with a glance his way.
“Go for it, Maggie.” Chisholm leaned back in his chair, food forgotten, Dani’s hand still clasped in his. He shot her a look. Amazement filled her expression, her full attention fixed on Maggie’s shift, launch, and landing several feet from Wharton.
The wolf shot after Maggie’s smaller gold-and-black body. He leapt over her and spun in the air, swatting her feline rump with his tail.
“Yolo?” Dani whispered, watching the two animals run and tackle each other.
“You only live once,” Trim said with a smirk before she too stood and took a running leap. In midair, deep red fur streaked with black spun into a lean-muscled wolf. Larger than Wharton’s and Maggie’s, Trim’s beast charged between them, knocking both to the side like bowling pins. She nipped at Wharton and bumped his rump with hers.
Maggie sat for a second, then turned toward the table, seeking Chisholm’s reassurance. Her eyes sparkled, though she didn’t display the unsophisticated tongue lolling of the canines. At Chisholm’s nod, she turned back toward Wharton, flashing a row of pearly, sharp teeth, and issued a guttural feline growl.
Dani pulled her hand from his, accepting the prepared plate of food he placed before her. She was so wrapped up in the play, he doubted she would even bother to eat. But as host and mate, the responsibility to make sure she did fell to him.
“Is this what stands in for shifter fun?” she asked.
“Team play,” responded Deacon. “The equivalent of developing people skills for shifters.”
“Even among different breeds?”
“Especially there, Detective.” His gaze lingering on Dani a bit too long for Chisholm’s liking, but he didn’t display a sexual interest. No hormones scented the air, and his eyes retained a congenial warm brown. But he was scrutinizing Dani, dissecting her with some skill Chisholm couldn’t place. As if she displayed characteristics the alpha hadn’t expected, ones he was trying to unravel.
“We possess more strength and capabilities than others in this world,” Deacon continued. “Learning to coexist and control our instincts separates us from animals.”
Chisholm pretended to ignore the whole exchange as a glitter caught his eyes. He rose and moved to the patio’s edge. Maggie’s necklace lay broken on the concrete. Evidently, the clan magic for clothing didn’t extend to precious metals. He turned at the silence behind him and noted Deacon had seen the necklace as well.
“I can accommodate for her necklace to handle her shift as well as her clothing. Can you fix it?” He’d spoken softly enough Chisholm could barely hear but at least Maggie wouldn’t.
With a nod, Chisholm disappeared into the kitchen for the snub-nosed pliers he kept in a drawer. He resumed his seat and gently extracted the broken link and provided a new one in its place.
“If I put it on her, it will withstand the shift next time.” Deacon held out his hand for the necklace and rose to wait for the tumbling pack to stop. He’d turned his back on the table, giving them a moment of solitude. Limited solitude, since Chisholm was certain of the alpha’s keen hearing. Still, it was a polite action.
“Does this all seem complicated?” Chisholm asked, noting Dani picking at her meal, too mesmerized by the activity to concentrate on eating. She lowered her fork.
“It’s incredible. Once I get past the unbelievable nature of this existence, it isn’t much different from other cultures. It’s obviously rich in protocol, and vivid. I’m surprised I’ve never run into other shifters.”
“There aren’t that many of us. Also, it’s not as if you could pick us out from the crowd.” But he wondered as her smile dimmed and her pulse gave a quick jump. What secrets was his human mate hiding from him? Hyperaware of the alpha’s covert attention, he tucked that thought away for later consideration.
“If it makes you feel better, I’m not privy to some of these rites. The only people skills I learned when I started shifting was how to stay away from people in the deepest darkest corners of Africa.”
Her brow rose. “Africa, really?”
Cringing at the thought of a somber discussion during a happy public event, he shrugged. “It was actually pretty sunny in the plains of the Congo.” He glanced toward Deacon and Cabot flipping more burgers in tandem and changed the subject. “At least Maggie has family. All my kids deserve to have as normal a life as it gets.”
Her elbow nudged him again, and she gestured toward his untouched plate. “They’ll think you’re sick if you don’t eat, especially after bringing out all that food. And for what it’s worth, the fact you want this for them never having experienced it yourself is wonderful.”
He sliced off a huge piece of his steak and stuffed it into his mouth, too embarrassed to acknowledge her praise. That she’d considered their lives enough to distinguish the nuances made him proud. That she wanted him to feel good about his choices pushed him over the edge of pleased toward euphoric. No one had ever bothered to care what he thought. Good or bad, his choices rarely mattered to others. Certainly, no one had ever praised him for anything.
“Care to discuss how you found out about my professorship?”
He didn’t look at her but continued chewing. Not looking at her, he cut a smaller piece and held it for her to taste. When she raised a brow and didn’t open her mouth, he smiled and waved it as if she were Charlie. “I’ll tell if you eat, too.”
“You will tell me anyway or I’ll consider you an adversary instead of a friend.” Her lips twitched, but her eyes sparkled. She leaned forward and delicately took the morsel between her teeth.
Mesmerized with each chew and her final swallow, he stifled a groan and shifted uncomfortably in his chair as heat flared through his body. Friendship wouldn’t achieve all he desired, but her friendship was worth more than gold. “We have the internet in this house. You’re listed under the adjunct faculty on the university web site you had on your laptop.”
She scrutinized his face for a split second, but didn’t move her hand as he covered it and turned back toward the group.
Together, they watched the tumbling for a few more minutes. Then Deacon put Charlie on his shoulders, though he didn’t shift, and headed into the fray with a growl.
As if by unwritten agreement, trust between himself and Deacon went only so far. Until a true testing of the bond, neither would release their beast to the other. Showing all their cards dissolved their advantage. Both understood that point.
Chisholm’s final pledge before his alpha would declare his trust, but Deacon would need to deliver more than social skills at a barbeque.
5
Dani’s office chair creaked as she leaned down and slid the drawer with her purse closed. The computer she was using, a borrowed bull pen dinosaur, took long minutes to power up, and she looked around for anything to distract her from the memory of Chisholm’s lips against hers the night before. Nothing worked. After the others left, he walked her to her car and managed one more parting kiss. She relived the touch, the tenderness, the contrast of his soft lips and the firmer play of his tongue as both of them struggled between the hunger for more and good night. Delicate and sweet, the kiss still seared her skin, his brief comment on mates now echoing in her mind.
No. Focus on something else.
The images of shifters turned gorgeous supersized animals, tussling close enough for her to touch, was enough change in direction. Almost.
She couldn’t turn her gift off, but most of the time she could modulate the impact. Rather like adjusting vision from close objects to far, she could treat the effects as normal, adding to the other senses everyone else dealt with on a daily basis.
But there was no way
to turn off her impact from the shifters. The visual and auditory components flooded her senses, and like an addiction, she was honest enough with herself—here, in private—she wanted more. At least of the man who brought more than just color and sound to her life. A man she had yet to see in all his forms.
Granted, the visceral exposure to Chisholm’s and Maggie’s life forces prepared her somewhat for a high-level impact, the color vibrancy. Yet, what she’d experienced along with their animal display still astounded her. Trim and Wharton not only radiated a full spectrum of reds, greens, and yellows, but their tones oscillated in harmony with each other. Not to the extent that Maggie’s coordinated with her father’s, a sign Dani assumed indicated sympathetic family bonds, synergy from love.
Deacon’s team displayed a familial comfort with each other as well, but lacked the entwining movements Dani had come to expect from a shifter parent or even human adult love. In the past, whether due to her gift’s limitation or her target’s advanced age, she had rarely witnessed such bonding between humans.
A student in her online class had invited her to a showing of artwork on campus, the woman’s true passion. The student’s husband had been at the event, and when the two came within arm’s length of each other, their pale green and blue auras wove together and actually knotted. When they drew apart, those knots remained on each of them, glittering with a background tinkling of bells.
Dani had thought the couple was still young enough to allow her to see their emotions. Still, she’d noticed the occasional elderly couple melding their colors. Though faint, the colors blended, distinguishing them as lovers, not just companions. She wondered if some people just carried more of a natural gene for displaying their inner selves.
Nothing about the shifters led Dani to believe their energy would dissipate. Deacon hadn’t shifted, leaving her guessing at his shifter form. However, he struck her as older than he appeared, too many hard years residing in the darkness of his eyes. Instinct drove her conclusion. Overtly, he possessed lithe strength and fine features that, if not brazenly handsome, were appealing.
