by KH LeMoyne
Rayven closed her eyes with a pang of guilt, wondering if this was the same location as the cabin her father had burned to the ground. Joy leached from her as the cold wrapped around her despite the now-crackling fire.
Breslin stood, pulling her attention to him. “It’s a work in progress. I get more out of building onto it than living here.”
Perhaps staying here was a bad idea. Given how much she’d relish one night with him, she was falling hard. Seeing him in his element only made her want him more. “Look, I appreciate what you’re doing for me. But in the interest of helping Nathan as quickly as possible, we should probably get going to the alpha.”
He moved to her. “I don’t see how running you into the ground will do the boy any good.”
“I have evidence, remember? Now that we’re in Deacon’s territory, someone can go retrieve the details I sent of that lab.”
Without a reply, he strode toward the kitchen area, and, after a few minutes of rummaging, he returned with a phone in one hand and a basket filled with cans and bags in the other.
“A compromise, then. I’ll call someone to retrieve your evidence.”
“Do you trust them?”
“I trust they’ll want what’s best for you,” he replied cryptically. “So yes.”
Perplexed, she nodded as he placed the basket beside the fireplace and then keyed in a number on the phone. “Callum. It’s—yes—but. Callum!”
She couldn’t make out the words from the other end of the conversation, but the persistent buzz of chatter stopped.
“She’s fine. We’re fine. I need you to go to a post office box she has in Whitefish.” Breslin rolled his head and glanced at her over his shoulder, waiting for the long stream of conversation to end. “Right. I don’t care how difficult it is. If I give you the location and details, can you find a way to access the contents?”
At another stream of garble, Breslin rubbed between his brows with his knuckle. “Yes. I agree. Happy now? I need it done by tomorrow night.” The chatter started again, and Breslin lost patience with the caller. “Yes or no. She needs this information.”
He turned in a circle, then nodded. “Good. Bring it all to Deacon. Damn it, yes, you have my word. She already knows. Thanks.” He ended the call and laid the phone on the narrow mantel above the fire. “All done.”
“Sounded a bit…difficult.”
“Callum is a stickler for doing the right thing. By the way, he now takes all the credit for ending my siege of terror on your clan’s financial holdings.”
Her eyes widened. Yes, she had credited Breslin with doing the right thing after their discussion. But she was surprised others had tried, without success, to convince him to stop before. However, his spoken promise to his own clan member sparked a surge of hope within her that they’d truly left their worst moments behind them. She inched forward, planning to hop down and cross to join him, when the room spun.
She awoke to find him bracing her, his hands on her waist holding her steady against him, a curious expression on his face. “What?”
He looked as if he were debating something, but shook his head. “I’m not sure you’re up for the tub.”
“Please.” Goddess, she hated to beg. But the thought of not getting to soak her aching muscles in the steaming water pushed her beyond reason. “I’ll promise anything.”
“Sorry. Bargaining isn’t an option. Safety first.” He whipped off his shirt and then reached for her. “We have another option.”
Her mouth watered as she got a long look at his chest and the dusting of blond hair that narrowed toward the waist of his jeans. “What are you doing?”
“Getting you ready for that tub. One way or another, we’re going in, getting you clean, and soaking all your sore bits.”
“We.” She raised a brow, looking for some indication that he felt more than helpful.
He cocked his head. “If you think I’m going to attack you in that tub, you’re certifiable. But I’m also not about to let you pass out in there. Ready?”
She didn’t need a nursemaid and pushed away his hands, turning her back on him. She wasn’t a child, and certainly not a charity case. “I can handle myself.”
“Good, show me. You can leave the underwear on if it makes you feel safer.”
“There’s nothing safe about you.” Or about what she wanted to do to him. She dropped his jacket to the floor and shoved her pants down her legs. Unfortunately, that left her grappling with boots and socks she hadn’t taken off. She reached for the edge of the tub and almost collapsed face-first into the water.
Lucky for her, he didn’t seem to be fighting fatigue as he dropped to his knees before her. Too tired to fight, she stood still while he stripped her of her boots, socks, and the pants. Even with her sweatshirt still covering her, she shivered at the sudden exposure to air.
He caught her hip, held her still, and ripped the rest of the half-torn sweatshirt away. She swayed against him. “This is why I’m going in there with you. You won’t drown with me holding you, and I’ll make sure your wound stays dry.”
He toed off his boots, flung his socks aside, and hoisted her into his arms. She grasped his shoulders to steady herself, trying to ignore the firm, strong feel of him beneath her hands. “Quick or slow?”
Biting her lip, she looked over at the steam rising from the half-filled tub. “Slow.”
True to her request, he moved with easy grace, stepping over the tub edge with her in his arms. He lowered her feet first and let her get used to the temperature before easing her in. He sat and pulled her onto his lap.
Vividly aware of his heartbeat pulsing against her back and the firm ridge pressing against her buttocks, she tried for composure. And failed. “Your clan has odd bathing practices. In the rest of the world, we take our baths alone.”
“How boring,” he said with a soft laugh as he grasped a washcloth from a pile to the side and soaked it with water. He softly trailed the cloth over her good shoulder. She couldn’t hold back a moan. For a big, dangerous cat, the man had the gentlest hands. “I’ve changed my mind. The underwear needs to go. I’ll give you something to wear once you’re dry.”
Before she could react, he’d unsnapped her bra and ripped her panties off. He tossed both soggy wet garments to the floor.
“You could have asked first.”
“We’d just have wasted time. You’d have insisted on propriety. I’d counter that it was more important you were comfortable—now it’s done.”
Well, not much she could say to that. The room was now dark with the sun already set and the fire’s glow didn’t illuminate the tub. He couldn’t see her beneath the water. That was what she told herself as he rubbed her back. The cloth ran over her body with a stroke that lulled her into drowsiness. She’d let him win this one, yet she couldn’t keep one thought from nagging at her.
“Women must beat down your door to enjoy this tub.” She couldn’t quite keep the brittleness from her voice or the tightness in her throat at the thought of him treating other women to this pleasure.
“I’ve never had any women here.” Yes! “But I find this quite agreeable.”
He rubbed over the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades. “See, you have places too hard to reach with only one hand.”
Who was she to fight? Especially since she wanted him to be here anyway. She’d just prefer it was from mutual attraction and not his generosity in helping an invalid, but she could dream. Relaxing back against him, she closed her eyes and let him have his way with the cloth. What was the worst that could happen? She’d become addicted to big kitty baths, she thought on a sigh.
The next thing she knew, she found herself wrapped in large towels and lying back on the platform beside the tub staring at the ceiling. Her head hung over the edge. “Did I pass out?”
“My efforts were so exciting, you fell asleep,” he said with a snort as he poured something from a bottle into his palm. “Now lie still for a few more minutes.”
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Was he for real? But when his fingers sank into her hair and massaged her scalp, she didn’t bother to stifle her groan. This was better than carrot cake. Or the bath. Or sex. Well, she opened one eye and watched the movement of his muscles across his chest, the flex and ripple along his shoulders and arms as he worked her hair. He didn’t bother with eye contact, instead concentrated on her, leaving her to bask in her fantasies.
Finally, with his palm beneath her head he reached for a large pitcher. Warm water sluiced over her scalp. She hummed something between a purr and a moan, and he paused. “You okay?”
“This is unbelievably good. I’d be willing to pay you for this service.” Even to her ears, her voice had taken on a husky tone.
“Tonight’s services are on the house.” A warm smile replaced his frown, and he tipped the pitcher again. “But I can imagine several ways you might pay me back later.”
“Repayment in kind. A bath, a hair wash, and a meal. It’s almost like a—” She stopped herself, embarrassed with the direction of her thoughts. Of course, it wasn’t like a date. Fortunately, he’d finished with her hair and didn’t answer as he squeezed the water out and wrapped her head in a towel. He scooped her into his arms again before she had a chance to sit up.
As she curled against his chest, the aroma of spices and sugar hit her. Another quick look around the room confirmed the table now stood beside the fireplace with several items on top covered by dish towels. A futon-like mattress covered the rug before the fireplace, layered with blankets. He deposited her there, rubbing her feet gently before tucking them beneath the covers.
Her stomach picked then to growl, and her cheeks heated.
“Food coming right up,” he said, his mouth twitching with humor before he turned toward the fire.
She rolled to her side and levered up on her good arm to watch him. He’d changed into dry jeans but remained naked from the waist up. The muscles across his shoulders bunched and moved as he ladled chili into two large bowls and spooned cornbread from a bread tin over the top.
“Sorry. It’s not meatloaf and carrot cake.”
“Smells great.” Her stomach growled as she accepted the bowl and inhaled deeply. “The only thing I can cook is macaroni and cheese.
“Blue box?” He picked a spot on the floor across from her and shoveled chili into his mouth, not waiting for a reply.
“Nope. Ziti, three cheeses, white sauce—the whole deal from scratch.”
Spoon paused halfway to his lips, he lifted his gaze. Steel blue deepened with sparks of gold and navy as his pupils widened in interest. “No kidding? Homemade mac and cheese is one of my favorites.”
She tried to ignore the way his gaze dropped and skimmed over her body. What could he see under the mounds of towels and blankets? Enough she felt heat skim across her skin, for of course he’d washed and wrapped her naked body. Yet the heat surging through her now had nothing to do with the fire and everything to do with the cougar shifter too far away from her body. He licked his lips and shoved in another spoonful of chili, and the moment was over.
“Yep. My mom taught me. She didn’t eat meat, but that was one of the things we agreed on foodwise.”
“I wouldn’t have bothered learning to cook if my mom were still around.” He dropped his gaze to his bowl but waved his spoon toward the kitchen. “She could make incredible things out of almost nothing.”
“I’m surprised you’re building here. I mean, since…” She winced, annoyed at herself for having veered off on such an insensitive topic. Yes, he’d mentioned his mother, but sharing wasn’t something they did now, outside the dark tunnels. The rule she’d agreed to.
He stopped eating, seemed to consider, and opened his mouth as if to say something. Then with an audible exhale, he shook his head as he eyed her, and dug another heaping bite from his bowl. “This location holds bad memories, but good ones too. If I went somewhere else alone, there’d be no memories at all.”
How well she understood that. Once her mother was gone, she’d had nowhere to call home. No place for comfort or people who’d cared if she lived or died. That had changed over time—a long time and only because new people mattered, not the places. Still, relief wafted over her with his acceptance to discuss the past. Likely he felt the same tie to people she did. With that understanding, she had an inkling of what his allegiance to Deacon must mean, an alpha who provided the strongest support in Breslin’s life. “Did you ever question Deacon’s father about revenge?”
He set aside his finished bowl with a harsh breath and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. “I did, but it took me years to come to terms with the reasons why nothing happened. My alpha wasn’t fond of mixing—well, any species besides wolf shifters. He made an exception in dealing directly with me because I was young and because what happened to my family horrified everyone. Also, cougar or not, my father had been one of Corbin King’s strongest and fiercest border guards. It didn’t matter. His death wasn’t worth a dispute with another alpha.”
Her food dried in her mouth. The situation was no better in her clan, though their circumstances were different. However, he’d been young and alone longer than she had, having to scheme for his justice. “Why did you stay with his clan?”
“Nowhere to go. I had the elder Romalds as foster parents. They were kind people. But because they were bear shifters in a wolf clan, they ended up with the responsibility for every orphan thrown their way. They needed to protect us all. That ruled out making a stand for only one of us.”
“When did Deacon come back?”
“About the time I headed over the territory line to take matters into my own hands.”
“Lucky timing,” she said, and he shrugged. “He promised you justice?”
“Funny, that’s what I took away from our agreement.” Breslin let out a wry laugh, laden more with surprise than humor. He shook his head and leaned back against the bench behind him, clasping his hands behind his head. At first, she thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he shook his head. “What Deacon actually said was that when the time was right I could take Gauthier’s most valuable possession and have my justice.”
“My father valued only what he couldn’t have.” She shrugged, wishing that the truth would stop hurting.
Breslin’s eyes gleamed at her in a way that made her muscles clench and her heart race. What had she missed?
“I’m sure Deacon knew that as well.”
“Your alpha promised you justice?” Unable to shake his recollection of that discussion with Deacon, Breslin experienced a weird déjà vu. Rayven had repeated what he told her in the caves, and he’d been reanalyzing his alpha’s cryptic promise through a different point of view for the whole trip beneath the mountains. The dark threat of the tunnels and the future risks to the injured woman he’d carried—one he admitted to himself that he felt many complicated emotions for—had produced some uncomfortable observations about his past choices and the future. Whether Deacon’s powers included prophecy to see Breslin and Rayven meeting, the truth was Gauthier’s most valuable possession sat before Breslin wrapped in his towels and eating the meal he’d prepared for her. Totally oblivious to her potential, her power, and the permanent hold she had on his heart.
The Karndottir alpha had ignored Rayven’s worth, yet she alone possessed the ability to reverse her father’s pathetic legacy. In Breslin’s opinion, she remained the one gem the alpha had ever brought into this world.
He leaned forward and gathered Rayven’s empty bowl as her eyes closed. “Get some rest.”
“What about you?” She murmured without putting up any resistance. He piled another blanket over her and brushed an ebony curl from her face, the temptation to lie beside her and hold her in his arms unbearable.
“I’ll be right here until you drop off to sleep.”
“Promise.”
“Hmm.” He wasn’t about to make promises he couldn’t keep, but he’d watch over her for a few hours. Make certain she didn’
t wake with more complications.
He listened with an ear cocked for her to stir as he cleaned up. He packed some cornbread and beef hash into containers at the edge of the fire for her to eat when she woke. Content she’d have food, he hunted for dry clothes that might fit her. There he ran into a bit of a problem. But he set his leather jacket on the table with a pair of new sweatpants she could roll the legs up and one of his T-shirts.
Having run out of excuses to delay leaving, he dug into his jeans pocket for his phone.
The scream that ripped through the air sent him across the room and to Rayven’s side in a split second. Desperate to calm her thrashing, he gathered her into his arms to minimize damage from any torn sutures. “Hush. You’re safe.”
He froze, waiting as her unfocused violet eyes settled on him.
Lips pressed tight together, she stared at him, dazed as if trying to make sense of where she was. But only relief and not fear showed in her expression when her body relaxed in his hold. “Am I causing a ruckus?”
Shivers racked her body. He sucked in a curse, grasping her frigid hand in his warm one, and rubbed it against his chest. “Nothing I can’t handle.”
He hoped she couldn’t scent the lie on him. He was more than a little worried about her. She shouldn’t be this cold, even with her bear refusing to come out. Latent shifters carried the basics of a high metabolism in their DNA. As a firstborn of one of the original alphas, she wasn’t latent or diminished. Her body’s refusal to heal and meet her needs signaled a serious problem. With one whiff, his cougar detected the faint oily residue of dark magic. A taint too similar in its signature to the magic used on abducted shifter children and leaving Rayven weak. As if something or someone was sucking the life from her.
Why he didn’t scent it earlier, he didn’t know. Unless whatever targeted her was working harder now that she was free of her own territory. Or perhaps as a child of Karndottir, her father’s mantle had been protecting her in some small way. It hardly mattered. He couldn’t allow her to be at risk now.
Sliding her higher into his arms, he tugged her closer in front of the fire and tucked himself around her under the covers.
