by Olivia Arran
“Your husband…”
“Joel. We were high school sweethearts and he was my best friend. And he went and died on me.”
I caught her hand, pressing against my chest. “I truly am sorry. I would do anything to take away your pain, even if that meant bringing him back.” And I would have, if I could.
“It was a car crash, a drunk driver hit us head on and Joel didn’t stand a chance. He died in my arms, trapped in the seat next to me as they tried to cut us free. I—I almost lost my leg, but Joel lost his life.” She laid out the facts in a tone so full of emotion, it was hollow. “I loved him, I think I always will.”
I didn’t give her a choice, pulling her into my arms and holding her tight. “I know. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay!” she hissed against my skin, but her hands crept up around my back, clinging to me.
“Sweetheart, you—”
“How can I still love him, if I feel like … this?” It was a wail of denial, one that had hope surging up inside me. “I’m a mess, Max. You should run away.”
“I can’t.”
“You should try.”
I smoothed a hand over her hair, breathing her in. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”
She peered up at me, blinking away unshed tears. “You can be gotten rid of, then?”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re a stubborn man.”
“Does it bother you? The whole shifter thing, I mean.”
She shrugged. “It’ll take a little getting used to, but it’s hardly the end of the world. It’s why you survived, right?”
I nodded, pride welling up inside me at this wonderful woman who was my mate.
“Then it’s a good thing. Means you’ll live longer.”
I stifled a smirk. “Yeah, about that…”
Her eyes narrowed. “What?”
Wincing under her glare, I continued, “I’m a little older than you might think.”
“How much older?”
If I said it quickly, she might not freak out. “One hundred and three.”
Her screech was ear splitting.
“Don’t you see? I’ve been around this long; I’m not dying anytime soon. And if we mated you’d live longer too.” I silently cursed myself when she looked away.
“Max, I said I needed time, and I meant it.”
“But—”
“Someone tried to kill you, don’t you think you should be trying to figure out who they hell that is rather than trying to get into my pants?”
This time I couldn’t stop the spurt of laughter. “Good point, but—”
“Max…” she warned, but her mouth was twitching.
“You’re wearing a skirt,” I finished with a smirk, my hands sliding down to cup her beautifully rounded behind.
“You’re incorrigible,” she muttered.
“If that means I’m not ever going to give up on you, I’ll take it.”
She smacked me on the shoulder and I grunted, wincing playfully. “You know exactly what I mean.”
“But you still need time?” I tried to keep the hopeful note out of my voice, but I couldn’t change my DNA. I needed her with me, as much as I needed to breath. I’d been a fool to believe I could survive without her.
“Can you give me that?”
I lowered my head, bending my knees until we were nose to nose. “As long as it doesn’t mean goodbye.”
“It doesn’t.” Her breath caressed my lips, teasing and tempting.
“Okay, but it’s only fair that I leave you with a reminder of exactly what it is your meant to be thinking about.”
The corner of her mouth tilted up in a wry smile. “I think the image is burned into my brain.”
I dragged her closer, lining our bodies up perfectly. “I wasn’t talking about stripping naked again, but I’m glad to hear I made a lasting impression.”
She tilted her head, putting her mouth at the perfect angle to mine for tasting, an innocent mistake. Probably. “Are you fishing for compliments?”
I smirked, closing the gap millimeter by millimeter. “Sweetheart, I only care what you think.”
Before she had chance to reply, I sealed the gap, pressing my lips against hers. Smooth and warm, her mouth softened, her breath puffing out on a sigh as I deepened the kiss, my hand curling around the nape of her neck and stroking.
Already hard, my cock thickened, my thoughts devolving to gutter level as need roared through me.
Mine…
Her soft groan almost broke my resolve, the thought of laying her down on the bed and persuading her exactly why we were meant to be together nearly overriding every sane thought. I broke the kiss on a growl, knowing that my eyes flashed silver and not wanting to hide this side of myself from her anymore.
No more lies.
Both panting, we clung to each other. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal deep pools of liquid brown. “Your eyes … is it because of your bear? You’re that close?”
“He’s a part of me. He knows you’re our mate and he’s devoted to you already.”
“Oh!” Her gasp was one of wonder, easing the part of me that wanted to continue to cling.
“You need to go, before I decide I can’t let you.” Drawing on all my remaining strength, I gave her a little push toward the door. When she hesitated, I dug my heels in, shoving my hands into my pockets.
“What about work?”
“Take the time off, but don’t take too long, I’m not sure how much patience I actually have.” I let her see the hunger in my eyes, the promise to worship and protect her if she’d let me.
Then I turned away.
I might be able to let her go, but, dammit, I couldn’t watch her leave.
Chapter Twelve
Jeanie
The meal for one sat on the table in front of me, congealing into an unappetizing lump as I stared off into space. Behind me the TV babbled, filling my small apartment with white noise, the clank of old pipes surging to life and adding to the swell of noise that was the usual background in my home. Beneath me, my neighbors shouted and stomped around, their voices ebbing and falling as per their usual pattern. They were reaching their climax, the pinnacle of today’s argument, and then I would be treated to a front row seat at their makeup session. The only thing louder than their screams were, well, their screams.
Usually I’d turn the TV up, or run a bath and float around with my ears submerged, or, if I really wasn’t in the mood for an audio only porno, I’d go out for a bit.
One final crash, then silence.
I had less than five minutes.
I’ll have a bath. Pushing away from the table, I made my way into the small bathroom, exactly three steps from the dining area. But I didn’t turn the taps, just stared at them with the same inertia that had held me in its grip since yesterday. Spinning on my heel, I marched back into the main living area, picked up my plate, and dumped the whole lot in the trash. Slamming the lid shut, I dusted off my hands.
Dammit. I was pissed. I loved this apartment; loved how I had my own little space, somewhere to dig in and hide from the world. And he’d ruined it for me. The questions wouldn’t stop coming, jabbing their hooks into me and punching my safe little world full of holes. What would it be like to curl up on the couch and watch a movie together? How about cooking a meal together? Or doing the weekly grocery shopping? Would he be the kind of man to pick up his socks, or would I have to nag and bitch? Did he do dishes? Would he be okay with me waking him in the middle of the night to talk? Was he a bed hog? Did he snore? Would he get pissed because I’m not a ray of sunshine in the morning? When it rains, and my leg aches, would he hold me and distract me from the pain? Would he laugh at my jokes?
Would he fuck me so hard my neighbors would have to leave their apartment?
I gripped the edge of the counter, propping my hip against it as I closed my eyes. Would he make me forget?
I waited for the familiar sting of regret, for the hollow empty f
eeling to open up inside my chest and pull at me so hard, I couldn’t breathe.
My head fell forward, my fingers relaxing as I gave myself over to the familiar routine, my penance.
The emptiness swelled, the feeling of utter helplessness rising.
I blew out a breath, not holding back. I needed this, like an addict chasing her next high.
A spark of warmth blossomed inside me, swelling and growing until it eclipsed the choked up bitterness I knew I nurtured, but hadn’t cared about before.
My wail equaled that of the neighbors below, hope sparking deep inside me. I had already changed, had already loosened my hold on the past, and I hadn’t even realized it. Hadn’t felt it happen. Sliding down the cabinet to the floor, I hugged my good knee to my chest, letting my bad leg sprawl out in front of me. Did this mean that I had a chance? That I could finally move on? That falling in love with Max was allowed?
That I had suffered enough?
That I could finally break the promise I’d made in the car that day?
Deep down, I knew that Joel would want me to be happy, had known it for a long time. I also knew that he wouldn’t have blamed me for the accident, for the argument that had caused him to take his eyes from the road just long enough to not see the car ploughing toward us. I could hear him telling me that I’d wallowed long enough, to buck up and get back out there. To let him go. To forgive myself.
But, I hadn’t wanted to listen.
Until now.
Could I love Max? I’d only known him a scant week but the thought of him being hurt, or worse… Curling my arms around myself, I rapped my head back against the cabinet, trying to knock some sense into myself. But, try as I might, I still came up with the same answer.
I might already.
Chapter Thirteen
Max
It had been over twenty-four hours since I’d voluntarily let Jeanie walk out of my life. Thirty-seven hours, thirty-six minutes to be precise. And I was losing it.
“Go see her, bro.” Ralph didn’t sound bothered either way, and the look on his face clearly told me I was acting like a fool. “Or don’t. Either way, cheer up or fuck off.” He finished polishing the wine glass and placed it on the shelf above the bar. Picking up another one, he swiped at it with a napkin, whistling a suspiciously cheerful tune.
“Why are you in such a good mood?” I grumbled, picking up my coffee and forcing down a swallow.
He didn’t look up from his task. “No reason. It’s a lovely day outside, why don’t you fuck off and enjoy the sunshine?”
“Ralph?” I narrowed my eyes, giving him the stink eye.
“Uh huh?”
“What’s going on?”
“You’re being a Debbie Downer, that’s what.”
“Of course that’s it. Nothing to do with a certain bakery owner?” I’d watched Ralph as he’d watched her cross the street only ten minutes ago. Noted the way the corner of his mouth had twitched, his hands tightening until it had been a toss up between snatching the glass out of his hands or watching him implode in front of me. It’d been a close call, and one I hadn’t had to make since Connie had opened up her store and slipped inside, averting disaster.
He broke off from whistling. “Nope.”
“Bullshit.”
“Whatever. Concentrate on your own mess, for once.”
Bracing my chin on my hand, I fixed him with a glare. “So … you admit you have a mess to fix?”
Backing away with a dry chuckle, he held his hands up. “I admit to nothing. Now, didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”
I waited a beat. “Nah, I think I’ll stay here. It’s not like there’s any work for me at the station.”
“Yeah, why did you agree to such an exciting job?”
Circling a hand in the air, I returned fire, “Like you and this restaurant, you mean? Big, fancy chef running a steakhouse that serves more coffee and beer than anything else.”
“That’s only because you don’t bother to bring your ass here to eat. We’re packed every weekend.”
He didn’t sound offended, but I knew my brother well enough to know I’d hit a chord. “Sorry, man. I’m all worked up and taking it out on you.”
“You think?” he replied, but he was grinning. “Go see her. If you want her; tell her. Don’t take no for an answer.”
“Like you have? Anyway, Jeanie’s a spitfire, I’m treading carefully.”
To my surprise, he shrugged. “You don’t have the first clue what I have and haven’t done.” Before I had the chance to open my mouth, he grabbed my still brimming coffee cup and dumped it in the sink, saying, “And it’s none of your business. Now, get out. I’m closing.”
“It’s eight-thirty in the morning.”
He slapped the napkin down on the counter, then vaulted over it. “So? It’s my restaurant.” Marching over to the door, he yanked it open, brandishing a finger at the sidewalk. “Go to work. Go see Jeanie. I don’t fucking care. Just go do something”
Sliding off the stool, I strolled over, slapping him on the shoulder. “Harsh, bro.” But I was grinning, as was he. This was Ralph all over. Hard on the outside, gooey on the inside. If he let you in, that is.
He lifted his shoulder, as if he couldn’t be bothered to even shrug anymore. “You know it.”
“Okay, but—” I broke off, performing a double take. I blinked, squinted, none of it made a difference. “Ralph?”
“What?”
“Is that … fuck, is the bakery on fire?”
The color drained from his face, then he was sprinting across the street, leaping over an oncoming car in a way that was distinctly inhuman.
I was fast behind him. Fishing my cell out, I jabbed speed dial. “Ryan, the bakery is on fire. Call the station, get Ted over here with the engine. Ralph’s gone in, I’m going after him.”
Silence had me checking the connection, then Ryan’s voice crackled over the line, “Amy is at work—” His voice broke, but his panic was a living thing.
“I’ll get her out. You need to rally the troops. Trust me, I’ll find her and keep her safe.” Cutting the line, I jammed the phone back into my pocket, took a deep breath and yanked open the door. Heat engulfed me, thick smoke billowing out in a plume and burning into my eyes. I staggered back, eyeing the flames that licked at the walls as the fire prowled over charmingly sweet gingham cushions, savage in its destruction. The glass top counter cracked down the middle, glass shattering with an ear splitting crash, splinters spearing in sweet pastries and buns as though skewering them for the ultimate barbecue.
I was an idiot going in here without my rig, but I didn’t have a choice. Connie and Amy were in here, Ralph too. Ryan would have help here before I knew it, but it might be too late.
Shoving my arm over my mouth and nose, I strode through the store, ignoring the flash of pain as the flames licked at my skin. It would heal, but a dead body wouldn’t. Ducking down and through the doorway to the back, I squinted, the smoke black and thick as I edged away from the heart of the fire. “Ralph?” I called out, almost choking on my own spit, the taste of ash coating my tongue.
The sound of wood splintering sounded too close for comfort, soft against the roar and crackle of flames on a feeding frenzy.
Forcing my eyes open, I put one foot in front of the other, until I was in the kitchen, the steel worktops and oven remarkably untouched. I was sliding onto my knees the second I saw them.
Crouched in the corner was Ralph, face darkened with anger and soot, an unconscious Connie nestled in his arms. Beside him lay Amy, her hair splayed around her head and face slack.
“She’s trapped.”
A glance at her foot had my heart twisting in my chest. Steel shelving, the industrial kind used for storing pots and pans and other paraphernalia, had fallen on top of her. More worryingly, a large bruise was already blossoming on her forehead. I picked up her arm, pressing my fingers against her wrist. Glancing at the woman in his arms, I let go of the breath I’d been ho
lding as I felt Amy’s heart beating strong and steady. “Connie?”
He was staring at her, as though he was scared that if he dared blink, she would disappear. “She’s unconscious. I—I don’t know why. She won’t wake up.”
Grabbing his face, I forced him to look at me. “Get her out of here, I’ll be right behind you. Is there a back door?”
He shook his head in disgust. “No. The side door counts as a fire exit. It’s blocked.”
Fuck. I’d be having words with the people of Craggstone once this was all over. “Head for the front then and don’t look back.”
At his hesitation, I gave him a shove, sending him stumbling toward the door. This wasn’t the time for heroics. I needed him out of here so I could do the same.
Jumping to my feet, I braced my one foot against the oven, the other on the floor, then hooked my fingers under the steel shelves. Pain bit into my skin, the metal already heating up, but I dug in, heaving it up inch by inch, until it screamed under the pressure. It was locked in place by the same hinges that had previously held it pinned to the wall, bending rather than budging. Cursing up a storm, I jammed a shoulder beneath it, grabbing Amy under the arms and yanking.
She didn’t move.
Sweat rolled off me, streaking into my eyes as I blinked, my shirt sticking to my skin.
Another loud crash from the front of the store, this one sounding ominous.
I was running out of time.
Gritting my teeth, I strained, shoving harder, feet grappling as they slid across the floor. Then my heart skipped.
Flames that had been licking at the wall, lazy and complacent, jumped, shooting for the ceiling as they crawled along the wall. A quiet hiss whispered through the air.
Fuck!
We had to get out of here. Now! I laid the shelving down, skirting around it to reach for the hinges. Calling my bear to me, I willed my claws to lengthen, digging them into the metal until it snapped. I moved to the next hinge, my strength fading as I held onto the unnatural partial shift by the skin of my teeth.
I wasn’t losing another friend to the fire.
