Blood Born

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Blood Born Page 8

by Catherine Wolffe


  “Figured I had lost you back there.” Dorran shoved the kickstand in place and eased forward so she could get off.

  Sliding boneless to the pavement, Meagan silently thanked the gods for letting her arrive in one piece. “You could have killed us. Why didn’t you slow down back there in that curve?” Okay, so he was going to be irritated at her mother hen reaction – Meagan didn’t care.

  “Pea gravel,” he said pointedly. “No traction. You either take it as it comes or take a slide right there on the asphalt.” Setting the helmet, she handed him on the bike’s handlebars, Dorran swung his strong as steel leg over the seat, planting his booted foot firmly on the street. “Now, let’s get that breakfast.”

  Meagan could smell the wind in his hair, the dust from the road, and the fine sheen of perspiration that glistened from the exertion. Her heart’s rapid beat stirred her body’s response to his fingers touching her in the small of her back as he escorted her across the street to the diner. She revealed in the sensation one more time.

  The bell over the door jingled, and more than a few heads popped up to see who the newcomers were. Most acknowledged the young woman who had lost her parents sometime back and a fella they had seen around town lately. Meagan would forever be remembered as the poor girl who lost her parents in some unfortunate accident. No one really knew how she was taken in by the group of friends who kept to themselves. Strange how people grouped you as either friend or foe based strictly on your history and loveable ol’ southern hearsay. Glancing up at Dorran as he settled in the booth across from her, Meagan wondered what folks would say about him? Her eyes narrowed. She imagined they would call him a drifter, then label him bad news because he rode a Harley.

  “He’s another one of those weirdos who keeps company with that bunch of losers on the farm outside of town. Strange folks,” they would say. “Probably making meth out there in the woods. Could be a cult, but most likely a gang. Hell, they probably have orgies out there. Those types usually do.”

  If Meagan had learned anything about small towns, it was the need for gossip. Everyone knew everyone and that meant everyone knew everyone’s business or tried to figure out a story behind it. Most of the times, it started with any mistakes the parents had made long ago, or where they went to church, or what they did on Saturday nights, or who they diddled with on the side. But no one came right out and said so. That would be rude. She smiled into the cup of coffee the waitress placed in front of her.

  “What can I get you two?” The waitress was a heavyset woman in her mid-thirties. She had blond hair and boobs that stood out on points of their own. Her gold colored earrings were losing their luster, and her nails needed attention.

  “I’ll have yogurt and strawberries if you have any.”

  “Sure.” She jotted down the order. “For you?” The waitress’s voice had cooled a few degrees with the question directed at Dorran.

  He flicked a glance at Meagan before glancing up at the waitress. “Pauline, is it? Coffee and keep it coming. Can I get four eggs over easy and bacon?”

  “Sure, anything else?” the waitress named Pauline offered.

  “That’ll do.”

  “Back in a flash.” She tore off the order and wheeled toward the counter. “Four eggs sunny and pig, yogurt fruit, table six.”

  “Wonder what crawled up her butt?” Dorran grinned wryly at Meagan after watching the waitress leave.

  Meagan shrugged and took a sip of her coffee. Strangers and outsiders weren’t accepted around town these days, she mused. Not since the battle to save the town a couple of years back. Aubrie and Logan had gone from hometown heroes in the fight to save Cheniere Station from shadow walkers to wanted felons in a span of a few months all because of the Sultan’s manipulation. Katie and Duke had exposed the Sultan as the killer responsible for the death of Connie Hightower, the diner owner’s daughter, and Logan’s ex flame. Meagan glanced around uncomfortably. Such was life these days.

  “Where did you go?” He leaned on an elbow and studied her, his bicolored eyes examining her face carefully.

  Shaking her head, she smiled tentatively. “Guess you aren’t getting a key to the city anytime soon. They have labeled you bad news.”

  He grinned at the dead-pan observation. “Yeah, well I’m used to it.” He huffed out a breath. “You’re full of surprises, Meagan Christiana.” He drank from his cup after dumping two sugars and a dollar size helping of half and half in the cup. “You considering my state of citizenship may be on hold for an extended period of time, huh?”

  She shrugged, paying his creation more attention than his words as she drank from her cup. “Yeah, as long as you’re seen with members of Shadow Company and me.”

  Dorran’s chin firmed. “You guys holding sadist sacrifices out at Aubrie’s, is that it?”

  Meagan grinned despite herself. “Something like that,” she said jokingly. “You should drop by on Fridays of the full moon. We take non-believers and paint them in honey, stake them and cover them in fire ants – an offering to the gods.”

  The snort of laughter sent coffee spewing from Dorran’s lips. He grabbed a napkin and wiped up the mess. “Sorry.” He ventured with a smile.

  “No worries. I know you want to bolt and run for the hills. There’s some creepy shit going on in this little slice of paradise, that’s for sure.” She wiggled her brows at him.

  Nodding, he waded off into the water a little deeper. “Meagan, tell me about you. Ever do any of that creepy shit?”

  Her brow wrinkled. “No, nothing I’m going to confess to you anyway.”

  He pursed his lips and nodded. “Fair enough. What about normal shit like something about you – where you grew up?”

  Knowing her past was an open book, Meagan decided to share her version up front. “I grew up nearby. Mine was an average childhood until I turned eighteen. When I was eighteen, my parents were abducted by the Sultan. My world became something straight out of horror fiction. For years I tried to find them. Then Duke and Logan found me in the walls of a mansion – Nybbas’ mansion nestled in the Netherworld. You know, the one beyond the veil.”

  Dorran nodded. “I’ve heard of it. Keep going.”

  "Well, as the story goes, I was a slave of the Sultans. With my parents imprisoned, he forced me to do things for him.

  Dorran’s brow furrowed.

  She could see he wanted to ask what kind of things. Meagan wasn’t sure she could talk about her time beyond the veil, so she sidestepped most of the details. “I was doing recon within the walls of the mansion. Those entering were examined for usefulness. Duke and Logan saved me, and later my parents. They brought us all back here to safety. I owe them a lot.” She hesitated a moment before adding, “My parents died last year. Now I live here in Cheniere Station.”

  Those bicolored eyes of his stared at her.

  Feeling vulnerable, she looked away. Despite ignoring Dorran, she felt the heat of his gaze on her, studying her carefully. “I’m sorry. You’ve been through a lot.”

  To the point, Megan mused. “I’ve managed.” Her bland response was intended to stave off more of the concern she saw in his eyes. She had to give him points for empathy. Still, there were others who needed pity far more than she.

  “So how do you manage the fact that your friends have supernatural powers. Does it ever freak you out?”

  Now it was her turn to laugh. If you’re referring to Aubrie and Logan or J.T. and Jessie, no, they’re my friends. I’m grateful for their friendship and gifts. The fact they are immortal doesn’t bother me. Why should it?”

  Easing back, Dorran pursed his mouth. Those lips drawing together in a firm consideration of her words reminded her of the first kiss they’d shared. “How do you feel about my being a hybrid?”

  His question came out of the blue. She simply stared. He’d been fishing for her opinion of him with all the foreplay. Probably already knew her story from J.T. or one of the other SEALS. As far as the town’s scrutiny went, she decided
he could truly care less. He wanted to know what she thought of him. Meagan frowned into her coffee cup. “What of it? You have gifts now like the others. If you use them for the good, then terrific.” Giving him a shrug, she sipped while her stomach churned uncomfortably. Reminded of last night, she examined her cup.

  “I wanted to know because I wanted to apologize for the other night. My jumping up and leaving wasn’t your fault. Then, the other day at the shelter. It had nothing to do with you – it was all me.”

  She blinked before cocking her head. “You?”

  The light chuckle broke the stern lines of his face. “Yeah, I sort of lost it.” Toying with his spoon, he twisted it in his fingers, rattling it on the saucer. “You see, I’m sorta new at this hybrid thing.” He shook his head. “Sometimes I get urges, and they are usually unexpected or way out of line. Last night was one of those times.”

  She cocked her head and watched him. “Urges like what?”

  He shifted in the booth. His arm coming to rest on the back as he continued to fiddle with the spoon in his other hand. After a few seconds, he spoke. “J.T. said things like this would happen. I just thought I had it under control, that’s all.”

  “Okay, you thought you had what under control?” He was not going to get away with dropping the subject now.

  He glanced up from his agitated spoon twisting. “The other night, the craving hit me, and I had to bail. It’s not something I’m proud of, it just is.”

  Meagan’s mouth wanted to open. She thought better of the idea. Watching him, she marveled at the fact he was even telling her this - whatever it was. “I’m confused.”

  Dorran rested both arms on the table’s faded Formica. “I know you are. Here’s the deal. When I’m aroused or turned on, my craving for blood gets out of hand. Most of the time, I can control it. The other night I let it go too far.”

  She blinked. Her mind latched on to the word arousal. That sent her stomach to dancing. How did you answer an admittance like that? They were in public, so she backtracked. “Blood?” Her stomach tensed as her eyes widened. “You’re talking about my blood?”

  “Yes.” He glanced up, his mouth twitching like he had developed a circuit glitch.

  The tips of her fingers burned like the onset of an attack of anxiety. Meagan dropped her head and bore down with her muscles, a trick she had learned years before. Facing him, she stalled out. He wanted her to tell him everything was cool. She couldn’t. Dorran wanted her blood. So what did you do when the hybrid you thought was hot wanted to drink your blood? Then there was the manhandling thing.

  Her little voice remained mute. Not a word.

  Great! “I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. You don’t need to say anything. It’s my problem. I’m dealing with it. I wanted you to know why I’ve left you alone lately. You didn’t do anything…it wasn’t anything you…I’m sorry, okay?”

  “Yeah, sure, right. You were dealing with it – I got it. No problem. I hope you…maybe J.T. can help…ugh…”

  Pauline walked up with their plates, and they both shut up immediately.

  “Sunny and bacon here and yogurt with berries here. Anything else I can get you two?”

  “No, we’re good.” Meagan flicked a weak smile at the woman before zeroing in on her yogurt. How weird was this breakfast turning out to be?

  As weird as you like, honey. This guy has some issues. Run!

  Now, the little voice chimed in. Out-fucking-standing! Meagan stole a peek at Dorran as he shoveled in eggs. His coloring had increased. She found the fact he might be embarrassed endearing. Who knew a hybrid could blush? Still, there was a weirdness to the hurried way they ate, paying for the coffee and shuffling back out to the bike in record time. She wanted to ease his mind if only for a few minutes. What she would do next was still a mystery. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m flattered you had such a reaction, I mean, you found me – you were attracted to me or whatever. I don’t know about the shelter thing. It’s all so new to me.”

  Dorran nodded as he handed her the helmet. “Yeah, me too. Look, forget I said anything, okay? I’ll deal with it. No worries.”

  Should she press to reassure him or drop the whole thing?

  Drop it and run!

  The little voice was really getting on her nerves. Meagan settled behind him and smiled inwardly. He was attracted to her. The idea did not come with the gross freak-out she had figured. Dorran couldn’t help what had happened to him. He had once been a man, as human as she, so to shun him because of what he’d become was not in the cards, at least not the deck she’d been using. Then the contact the other day, she may have overreacted. Meagan of years ago may have run from such a situation like the little voice suggested. Nerves had a way of making a person react in that way, she knew. Today, she was a different person with a better picture of life and relationships. Thanks to Shadow Company and the damage done by the Sultan, she accepted far more as normal these days.

  “Thanks for breakfast,” she said into the leather of his jacket. The butter-soft feel of the primo rawhide felt good against her skin.

  “He turned slightly in the seat. Clear bicolored blue eyes strained to see Meagan’s face. “You’re welcome, any time, Meagan Christiana – any time.”

  The engine roared to life under her butt, and Meagan wondered at her ineptness. They drove back to the shelter without words. The warmth of the sun on her back made for a nice reprieve from the biting chill of the air whipping past them. Spring was taking its sweet time about arriving, she mused.

  Dorran rolled to a stop in the parking lot, dust whirling as gravel munched under the tires. “Thanks for the talk.” His expression held something caged as if he willed himself to hold back from getting too close even if it was only in spirit.

  Meagan eased off the bike waiting until her feet felt solid under her before looking into his face. “You’re welcome. Listen, I want you to know… Well, I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything, Dorran O’Hare.” Unclear as to the distance she was willing to go but feeling a little smug and playful as she used the same name game he used on her frequently, she smiled for him before turning to disappear through the fence gate and into the world of the homeless fur babies.

  Chapter 10

  As days went, it was a pisser. Meagan wanted a bath and a beer or maybe three. Her head ached, and her neck throbbed. Volunteering sucked wide right about then. The euthanasian of several she had shared and reshared on social media hit hard. To add to that, she had not heard from Dorran in three days. Mentally checking off the reasons that was a good thing, she headed for the bathroom and a long soak.

  The small office wasn’t big enough for more than two people. Meagan sat in the visitor’s chair with her head in her hands.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Sue’s voice edged toward irritated as usual.

  “Nothing.” The tone of Sue’s question grated on her already frazzled nerves. “I’m just taking a minute. Been a long day.”

  “Yeah, tell me.” Sue huffed out a breath and tossed her keys on the desk. “Why don’t you go ahead and go? I’ll take care of anything coming in until close.”

  Meagan straightened. The idea of escape brightened her mood. She still had a lot to sort through. She was ready to leave. The scene in the outside kennels that afternoon had freaked her out. Had she imagined one of the dogs speaking to her? Surely, that was what happened. Of all the things she thought could occur, the dog named Sally speaking to her in Mrs. Abernathy’s voice wasn’t on her radar. She knew she heard the dog ask her a question.

  Not really seeing anything before her, Meagan looked around the office and thought back to the event.

  “Meagan, what are you doing?” Mrs. Abernathy’s voice was frantic. “I can’t stay here. Get me out, please!”

  Meagan remembered stumbling backward in shock. The dog named Sally tilted her head right then left and blinked her great big blue eyes at her in fear. “Mrs. Abernathy? Where are you?”


  “I’m here, right here. Now unlock this cage and let me out. I have things to do.”

  Meagan felt sick. She must be losing it. The whole idea of a talking dog was really the last straw. “I need a break,” she murmured. “Sally, I’ll get you some more water and food. Be right back.” Racing out of the aisle, she practically ran into Carl.

  “Where’re you going in such a hurry?” His greasy smile made her stomach churn.

  Her chest tightened at the contact with the guy. He wasn’t harmless. Somehow, she knew he wasn’t a good person. Sidestepping him, she darted into the building and put as much distance as possible between him, Sally and the idea of a talking dog. Forcing back the tears, she wiped sweat from her face and reminded herself she was tired. Nothing good came from being exhausted. Since she desperately wanted to save all the lives she could, the whole thing had to be a figment of her imagination. It was the only logical explanation possible.

  ***

  Meagan drove and brooded over the incident. “I have to be flipping out. There’s no way such a thing is possible.

  The Curs herald someone at the door. Damn salesmen. “Go away!” She breezed through the living room headed for the bedroom. Yanking clothes off as she went, she didn’t hear the door open or close. Funny but the Curs had hushed. Scooping up a tank top, she grabbed jogging shorts and stepped inside.

  The millisecond it took to look up was long enough for her heart to stop. “Whoa!” Scrambling backward, she stopped when the bathroom vanity got in her way. “Have you ever heard of knocking? Jeez H fucking…” Taking a deep breath, she scowled. Why waste the profanity? She needed it for when she launched herself on top of Dorran and pummeled him into a pulp. Her second retaliatory move proved to be throwing the nearest bottle at his head. “You’ve got some major balls, I’ll give you that.”

 

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