by Sennah Tate
She nodded, admiring the way the muscles of his firm backside rippled as he bent to stoke the fire once more. He returned a few minutes later looking grim.
“What?” she asked, a wave of apprehension making her heart race.
He sat down on the bed once more and Hailey was acutely aware of how near he was. How the room still smelled like sex and how much she itched to touch him again. What was this between them? A one-time thing? She hoped not.
Brock’s hand settled on her bare thigh, sending a jolt through her once more.
“Everything is flooded. It will probably go down with the sun tomorrow, but unless you want to wade through, there’s no way we’re getting back to the boat tonight.”
She worried at her bottom lip, the thought of willingly diving into unknown waters — even with Brock at her side — was enough to make her panic.
She shook her head, eyes wide, her voice trembling as she struggled to find words, “I… I can’t do that,” she muttered.
He nodded without a hint of judgement in his eyes. Surely he wasn’t really this understanding, was he?
“I thought you might say that. In that case, we’ll just have to stay the night here.” The warmth in his tone made Hailey’s insides melt anew — perhaps this wasn’t the unfortunate situation it seemed.
Chapter Ten
Brock
The panther was finally at ease. With Hailey curled up against his side, the thrum of her orgasms still in her veins, Brock couldn’t blame the beast. Nothing could be better.
He knew he didn’t deserve her. She didn’t know the first thing about him. She didn’t know about his panther side. The pack. Their shared past.
Would she still be here if she did? If he told her the truth, would she run away? Be angry at him for the years of therapy she’d endured on his behalf? Would she be able to look past it to be with him?
He pulled her closer, taking a deep breath, reveling in her floral scent. She shouldn’t forgive him; that much was certain. He didn’t deserve her — couldn’t give her what she needed. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to let her go, either.
She yawned, nuzzling into his chest, her nimble fingers toying with his chest hairs absently.
“I’m sorry again that we had to stay here. I know it’s dumb…” It sounded like there were more words to the sentence that she didn’t voice.
He shrugged.
“I offered to guide you. Keeping you safe and comfortable is part of the job.”
She turned those bottomless blue eyes toward him and his heart clenched.
“Besides, I think we made the most of the situation,” he chuckled.
Her gaze fell and he sensed that she wasn’t comforted by his light-hearted comment.
He wound a tendril of her coppery hair around his finger, his other hand gently stroking her arm, causing goosebumps to pucker her sensitive flesh.
“Hey, it’s really okay,” he assured again.
This time, when she turned her eyes to him, they were watery, “No it’s not.”
He didn’t respond. Her chest rumbled with the effort of containing her sobs and all Brock could do was run a hand over her back in slow soothing circles.
“This was all just some stupid attempt to prove to myself that I’m not crazy,” she laughed — a bubble of hysteria that sounded painful rather than joyful.
Brock froze. This was it. His chance to tell her what he knew about Falcon’s Crest Lake. To assure her she wasn’t insane. To assuage her fears and comfort her for the difficult past she’d had to endure.
What would he do if she remembered him? The boy that turned into a panther. What would she think if she knew they were mates? How would she react?
Brock saw his chance to come clean and he let it slip through his fingers like an eel.
“What do you mean?” he said, his hand stilling on her hip.
She searched his face in the fading light, looking for… something. Trustworthiness, perhaps?
Whatever it was, she must’ve found it, because she fell into the story quickly. The words tumbled forth like she’d been holding them at bay for so many years. She told him what he already knew: she and her friend, Gabi, were playing by the lake when a terrifying beast attacked them. He remembered his panther frolicking with other cubs, hearing the cry for help that pulled at his very soul — his mate.
Hailey remembered the panther, too. The monster he fought was easily seven feet tall, covered in matted russet hair. Long dirty fingernails adorned its human-like hands, sharpened to a point, he’d noted as they slashed across his face.
His mate didn’t see everything — or her memory had spared her some of the more gory details — but she remembered his gait changing, the cat becoming a boy as he disappeared into the woods.
“I know it doesn’t make any sense. I’ve had adults tell me my entire life that it doesn’t make any sense. Do you think I’m crazy?”
Her eyes were so open, vulnerable, waiting for his reassurance and acceptance. He had his chance to tell her the truth. She handed it to him on a silver platter. He could tell her that he knew she wasn’t crazy. Tell her his role in the events of that day.
But to what end? To mate with her? To bring her into the world of monsters and strange beasts she’d spent her entire life trying to escape?
Brock realized that he was the cause of her pain. The source of the scars reflected deep in the azure gaze that clawed at his heart. She’d have been better off without his interference then and she’d be better off without his influence now.
He sighed, steeling himself for what he was about to say.
“Well, people see a lot of things when they’re frightened or faced with an unexplainable experience. I don’t think you’re crazy, you saw something traumatic and tried to make sense of it.”
He sensed the shift in her mood immediately. Hailey stiffened and pulled away from him — the absence of her body pressed against his made Brock feel instantly cold, inside and out.
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” she said, moving as far away from him as the small bed would allow, the outline of her form only barely visible in the glow from the embers.
“Good night, Brock,” she said coolly without another look his way.
He wanted to tear his heart from his chest. Surely that would be less painful than the ache in her voice. Surely, being without a heart would be easier than feeling her pull away from him in that moment.
Brock felt like the biggest douche alive — and his panther agreed wholeheartedly. The other panthers would never accept her, even if he was their Alpha. Even if she could make him stronger than ever — stronger than any of the others. Shifters and humans weren’t meant to mix. It went against everything he preached. And yet… there she was in bed next to him.
But he could never love her. He could only ever claim her. Mate her. Mark her. She deserved more than that. She deserved someone that could ease her worries, calm her fears, soothe her insecurities. She deserved more than he could give her.
He could never be worthy of her.
Chapter Eleven
Hailey
A week passed after that fateful trip into the swamp. Hailey hadn’t heard from Brock once after he’d returned her safely home. He hadn’t show himself around town, either and frankly, she was pissed about it. Who did he think he was? Seducing her, calling her crazy, then just abandoning her?
It was for the best anyway. He didn’t believe her story more than anyone else. She should’ve known it seemed too good to be true.
She felt stupid for ever revealing her memories, for ever telling him what she thought she’d seen that day. Of course he couldn’t take her seriously anymore. She was insane. If she kept telling people about monsters and cat-boys, the rest of town would know it, too.
It was better that Brock didn’t show up, she decided. If he was around, he might tell people what she’d said. Rumors would spread quickly and before she had a chance to protest, everyone in town would think she was craz
y again. It would be her childhood all over again. At least now, most people were willing to give her the benefit of the doubt of having been a traumatized child. If word got out that she still thought those things were real…
She shook her head. She was getting ahead of herself. Brock wasn’t telling anyone anything. He wasn’t even around. Hailey hated that she couldn’t stop thinking about him, but it certainly didn’t help that his men were in her diner causing trouble every day, breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The bell above the diner’s door jangled and Hailey turned her attention to the newest customers.
Speak of the devil…
Three men known to associate with Silvanus — as she was trying to remember to refer to him — strolled in like they owned the place. Their assertive posture was enough to raise Hailey’s hackles, but she always gave them a chance to behave themselves. Even if they rarely took advantage of it.
They sat themselves at the only dirty table in the place and immediately started hassling Shirlene.
“Ugh, this is disgusting!” One said.
“Doesn’t anyone do any work around here?” Another grumbled, smearing ketchup over the table top.
The third snapped his fingers in the air obnoxiously even as Shirlene approached them, “Come on sweetheart, put some hustle in it,” he barked, pinching her bottom as she bent to wipe the table.
That was enough for Hailey. She decided to take the table, excusing Shirlene with side-work.
“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, wrinkling her nose on the last word like it left a lingering odor in its wake, “I’ll get this cleaned up for you.” Though she had a big smile plastered across her face, her eyes spoke only of steel reserve that was tired of their bullshit.
For a moment they were cowed. Then Shirlene brought over a pot of coffee and their complaints started anew.
“This tastes like shit,” said the first man.
“And it’s cold,” another said, despite the steam clearly rising from his mug.
“Dennis never would’ve served shit coffee like this,” said the first man again.
“The old man’s probably turning in his grave,” spat another.
Hailey felt her blood temperature rising.
“This place has gone to shit, don’t you think so Arlan?”
The third, quieter of the bunch, didn’t seem to mind his coffee so much and took a moment to catch on.
“Huh? Nah, it’s all right— Ow!” he hollered, a foot connecting with his shin under the table.
“No it’s not, it’s shit, isn’t it?” The first ground through his teeth once more before having his own shin assaulted under the table.
The three quickly devolved into a fight across the table, shoving, kicking and bickering until one of the steaming mugs dumped all over Hailey’s front.
She stood in shock for the span of a heartbeat before the pain from the scalding liquid registed on her torso. That was the final straw.
“Get out,” she growled, slamming her hands on the table.
For what seemed like the first time, they noticed her and gave her their ful attention.
“Pardon?” said one.
“Get out of my restaurant and don’t ever show your face here again. Any of you.”
It took a moment for her words to sink it — she got the impression that these men weren’t used to being bossed around — but finally a strange expression overtook them and they each stood and exited without much more fanfare.
Good riddance, she thought, happy to be rid of her last reminder of Brock Silvanus.
The name was enough to make her heart lurch into her throat and her body tingled deep down.
Maybe not her last reminder.
She noticed all eyes in the diner on her, all of them saying the same thing without saying anything at all. She could already hear the rumors of the addled girl and her short-fuse. She didn’t need anyone else to tell her that she was crazy.
Before the rest of the diner patrons could see her break down, Hailey fled to the restroom to clean herself up. As soon as the door closed behind her, the tears began to fall.
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she missed Brock. She hated herself for turning him away after rejecting her ideas. Who wouldn’t think she was crazy? What did she expect from him?
More so, she hated herself for missing him. They’d slept together — and it had been the single most incredible experience of her short life — and then he never spoke to her again? Never mind that it was she who pushed him away… somehow he was at fault. Wasn’t he?
Chapter Twelve
Brock
His mood had been even blacker than his heart ever since his night with Hailey. For a brief moment, he’d had an opportunity for a different life — and squandered it. His panther hated him. Hell, he hated himself.
He tried to convince himself that he was doing what was best for his pack and for her. The pack wouldn’t accept a human and she didn’t belong in the world of shifters.
The cat rumbled his protest and Brock ignored the ever-present rally of mate, mate, mate.
No, this was for the best.
A tiny voice in the back of his mind challenged him.
You’re just scared, it taunted.
He shoved the voice deep down, burying it in the recesses of his mind. Hailey didn’t belong to him, no matter how often she visited his dreams and invaded his waking thoughts.
A trio of his men stormed into the clubhouse bickering.
“You didn’t have to be such an ass,” Arlan hissed.
“If you weren’t so fucking thick,” Coriolus growled back.
Garret stood between the two, barely able to keep them from lunging at one another's’ throats.
They squabbled more, but Brock was not in the mood to listen to their yammering. He got the gist of their problem from the back and forth and finally, pinching the bridge of his nose, roared his displeasure with their scrap.
“If some human bitch is giving you trouble, remind her who runs this town. Now get out of my fucking face,” he snarled, the very last thread of his patience frayed to the breaking point.
The idea seemed revelatory to the idiots and they suddenly grew enthusiastic about the prospect. Their excitement annoyed him even more than their fighting had. He needed to clear his head. A good hunt would cool his temper. A nice run through the Glades as the panther. The cat needed to be let free every so often.
He left the clubhouse, only to return a few hours later, exhausted from the hunt, his belly full of fresh rabbit. The moment he walked through the door, his panther bristled to the surface again.
You had your turn, he grumbled, shoving the beast back down inside of him.
He heard laughter then — his men — and a woman crying. It took a fraction of a second for his panther to recognize the sobs, take over and force him to shift. Man and beast moved as one, focused only on protecting their mate.
Before the man knew what was happening, the panther tackled Coriolus and tore into his throat, quickly turning his attention to the next man that dared threaten Hailey.
It was then that he looked at his mate, frozen in terror, screaming as if she feared for her life.
Don’t worry, he wanted to say, I’m here to protect you.
The look of terror wasn’t for her tormentors anymore, though, it was for him. She was frightened of him. The panther couldn’t process the information, but it sank deep down to the human part of his brain and Brock was able to regain control of his own body.
He shifted back to his human form, trying to ignore the mixture of fear, confusion and mutiny reflected in his followers’ wary looks. Coriolus clutched at the gaping wound in his neck, trying to stem the flow of blood as he hovered between forms in an attempt to force himself to heal.
Brock didn’t care. He had eyes only for his trembling frightened mate.
“Hailey,” he said, wincing as she flinched at the sound of his voice. He dropped his voice to a whisper, “Did they
hurt you?” He set to work right away, untying the bonds that held her wrists behind a chair. Whatever they’d planned to do with her, it didn’t seem that they’d gotten bvery far. He couldn’t find a scratch on her; she seemed more shaken up than anything.
She stared at him, open-mouthed, in shock. No words came. None of her sweet lilting words to comfort his soul and soothe his savage beast. He’d ruined any chance at that, now.
“Why don’t I take you home?” he offered, helping her to her feet. She recoiled from his touch and Brock thought he’d feel less pain if he stabbed himself repeatedly.
Hailey remained mute, but allowed him to take her home.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally as they pulled up to her house after a silent drive, “I didn’t want you to find out like this…”
“You mean at all,” she spat, taking him aback. She hadn’t said a word to him, but now, her voice trembling, she couldn’t seem to stop them.
“You knew. You knew how my entire life has been. You knew I wasn’t crazy. You could have told me, but you didn’t—” her voice cracked and Brock watched her push back a tidal wave of emotion.
“Of course I knew,” he said. “I was the boy,” his voice began as a whisper, but suddenly the guilt that he’d been harboring overwhelmed him and he felt his own torrent of exposition burst forth.
“Don’t you get it? This is all my fault. The therapy, the homeschooling, all of it. It’s me. Can you honestly say you’d ever give me a chance? I’ve already ruined your life once…”
She pressed her lips into a firm resolute line and Brock wished more than anything that he could kiss her one last time before she undoubtedly banished him from her life.
“I guess we’ll never know now, will we?”
She left him alone in his truck, speechless, hating himself more than ever.
When Brock returned to the clubhouse, a group of his men blocked his entrance, each firmly standing his ground, another link in the chain. They no longer wanted — or trusted — him to be their leader. He’d always identified himself as the Alpha, done everything he could to ensure his position at the top of the heap, and in one fell swoop, he lost it all.
