by Jessica Sims
He brushed my hair off my shoulders, playing with it. For some reason, he loved my hair. I thought of Arabella’s short curls and felt rather smug—she might have had a kick-ass body but I had prettier hair. Stupid, I knew, but I’d take whatever victories I could get.
“Bathsheba,” he said, his voice grave. “I am extremely attracted to you. I wanted you the first moment that I saw you.”
Flattery happened to be my weak spot. Damn the man.
His fingers dipped to my chin, lifting my blushing face to meet his gaze. “But I have a big problem. Tomorrow when the sun goes down, Savannah will go into heat. Normally when a female cougar goes into heat, she leaves the area so as not to affect her clan. But she doesn’t have that choice this time, and because she is a female in my territory, it’s going to affect me. I can’t do anything about that. I’m … I’m stuck, really.”
His gray eyes searched my face, as if he was hoping to find answers there, or encouragement. “If you and I aren’t going to work out … I need you to tell me now. Otherwise I’m going to have to chase down that bitch Arabella and ask her to spend the night with me. I don’t want to. Hell, the thought of having to do so makes me furious—but if my only other choice is that, I’m going to have to go after her.”
He was laying it all out for me, his eyes earnest. I realized then that all his flirting and heavy-handed possessiveness was for my benefit. If I said no right now, he’d let me go shut myself in my room and never touch me, because he wanted to honor my wishes.
And instead he’d just sleep with that bitch Arabella.
I wavered between my loyalty to Sara and my attraction to Beau. My life revolved around Sara’s safety, but right now I had an opportunity to take something for myself. Maybe I could have this one small interlude before we went on the run again. And I realized, quite suddenly, that I wanted this, and him, very, very much.
He was obligated to have sex, but he wanted me. And I liked that.
I fingered his shirt, smoothing over a damp wrinkle. “You realize that you’ve put me in a very awkward position, don’t you?”
He actually blanched, bless his heart. “I know, sweet Bathsheba.” His hand moved from my hair, sliding to my cheek. He caressed my skin with his knuckles, as if he simply had to touch me.
My heart always gave a little flutter when he said my name like that. “This isn’t exactly how I planned my first time,” I admitted. “I know we’re stuck in this cabin together and you have to have sex tomorrow, but …” It felt a little odd. More than a little odd to think that I’d be de-virginized tomorrow night.
“I’ll make it special for you,” he vowed. “I’ll give you romance.”
“Romance?” My brow furrowed. “What do you have planned?”
He smiled. “Leave that up to me.”
I trailed my finger down his shirt. His pectorals were so hard that I could practically feel the definition of the muscles through his shirt. “Well, if you truly have no choice, then I suppose we have a date.”
He grinned and leaned in to kiss me. “You won’t regret it.”
I tilted my face up for his kiss, thinking that Sara was going to give me such shit when I saw her again—
“Sara!” I blurted, moving my head just before he could kiss me.
His mouth landed on the edge of my jaw. “What about Sara?” he said, not breaking stride.
I gently pushed him away. “You said everyone in the clan is affected by this heat thing, right?”
I could have sworn his eyes gleamed slightly when I mentioned the word “heat.” “Every cougar is, true.”
“So what about Sara? She’s staying with the guys.”
He pulled me against him again. “I told them to hit town tomorrow night. The ones that don’t have a mate usually have a local girl on the side.”
“And who’s going to stay to make sure that Sara is safe?”
“Ramsey. He’s not affected by the heat.”
“Why not?”
“He’s a were-bear. Only cougars will be affected by the heat.”
My relief nearly made me sag. “So what is a were-bear doing in the Russell pack?”
“We’re not really a pack. We’re a clan. More of a corporation.” At my arched eyebrow, he explained. “Were-cougars tend to be loners, drifters. Packs are a wolf thing.”
“But I thought the Alliance was a pack itself.”
“The rest of the Alliance tends to flock to clans, or packs. Vampires have a leader. Werewolves have packs. Fey have their own strange hierarchy. In our world—because we’re so different from everyone else—family and friends are everything. My father realized a long time ago that as loners, we were putting ourselves in a weak position. That if we were going to stand a chance against the rest of the affiliations, we needed to have one of our own. My father created the Russell clan, but not everyone is a cougar. The majority are, but some, like Ramsey, are different.”
“And only two girls? Just Savannah and Arabella?”
“Shifting seems to be a recessive gene. That’s what makes a heat so important and so damn annoying as well. Because cougars have a wide territory, everyone in the entire pack with cougar blood is affected. Savannah and Arabella are the only two cougar women in the Russell territory. There’s more females up in the Northwest, but their men are rather possessive. I’ve never met one.”
“Too bad for you,” I said wryly.
That heart-stopping grin that made me turn into Jell-O returned. “I’m not complaining. I rather like how things have ended up.”
A blood-curdling scream woke me in the middle of the night.
I froze in Beau’s bed, afraid to move a muscle.
The scream echoed again; it sounded inhuman. I’d heard Beau’s wildcat cougar scream and this wasn’t the same. This was nightmarish, twisted.
Not good.
I rolled over and stared at the window, which was covered in frost. I couldn’t see out, but I could see the heavy line of salt covering the windowsill. A faint red sheen flickered in the window, as if there was some sort of red light outside.
Wariness made me slide to the floor, and I reached for the sharpened stake I’d made from the woodpile and stashed underneath the bed.
The scream rose through the woods again, closer, and I raced for the bedroom door. It opened before I could touch it. Beau stood there, grim-faced, his hair tousled, his chest bare.
He looked at my stake in surprise, then shoved something into my other hand. “Take this.”
I felt relief when I realized the cold, heavy weight was a gun. “Is this loaded? Safety on?”
He grunted. “So you know how to shoot? You always surprise me.”
Little did he know. I’ve even killed a man. I tucked the stake under my arm and flipped open the chamber of the gun. Six bullets loaded. “Of course I know how to shoot. I work for a business that deals with undead and werewolves. Are these bullets made of silver?”
“Silver-lead alloy,” he said. “Stay in this room, understand? Get under the bed, and I’m going to coat the doorways with salt. I don’t want you moving until I come back.”
“Waaaait a moment,” I said, grabbing his arm before he could turn away. “Where are you going?”
His mouth was a grim line. “I need to find out what’s out there.”
“What’s the salt for?”
He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “It keeps evil spirits from crossing the threshold.”
“Evil spirits?” My voice rose to a near shriek. “Are you kidding me? Is that what this is?” I could deal with horny shapeshifters, or the occasional love-struck vampire who showed up at work, or a little sister who sprouted fur when she got nervous. Evil spirits were far out of the standard territory.
He was already turning down the hallway, pulling on his shirt. “I don’t know what this is, Bathsheba. That’s why you need to stay in the bedroom and lock the door. That’s the safest I can make you.”
Stay in this big house by myself, hiding
under the bed while he ran off into the woods?
“Fuck that,” I said, outraged. “I’m going with you.” I chased after him, carrying the gun with careful hands as I crashed down the stairs. “I’m not staying here alone.”
“You are not going with me,” he said, turning back to look at me with a furious gaze. “It’s too dangerous.”
“How do you know I’m safer here? What if it’s not an evil spirit, and the salt doesn’t do anything but pickle my remains?”
He gave me an exasperated look. “Bathsheba—”
“I’m going with you.” I wouldn’t feel safe trotting through the woods with scary stuff out there, but at least Beau would be by my side.
He looked torn. “Bathsheba—”
“If you leave me here, I’m just going to follow you,” I said. “Classic stupid horror movie move. And you know bad things always happen to virgins in those.”
He gave me a grim smile. “Wait here and I’ll get you a coat and shoes.”
This was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing I’d ever done. I trudged through the snow in heavy boots, too big for my feet but tightly bound at the ankle, so they weren’t so terrible. Beau’s jacket hung off of me like some misfit Eskimo outfit, and he paced ahead of me in the snow in cat form.
It felt weird to be doing this.
Beau had kissed me before shapeshifting, a quick, possessive kiss. “I need to be in cat form for this, sweet thing. If you see anything in animal form other than me—be it deer, skunk, or cougar—you shoot it and think about the consequences later. If anyone else is on my land, they’re trespassing—so don’t hesitate to shoot.”
I nodded at that.
Beau in cougar form was a beautiful sight. His cat body was a long, lean buff beige covered in soft fur and thick cords of muscle. I hadn’t watched him shapechange—that seemed a little personal—but when he’d finished shifting, he’d moved back to my side, his feline body enormous and a little frightening until he’d licked my hand with his raspy tongue. After that, I’d lost my fear.
Beau had circled around me once and then headed into the woods. I’d followed as silently as possible. The thick woods were pretty from a distance—like from inside Beau’s cozy cabin. Snow had fallen, unusual for Texas, and the darkness was cold and dismal. I decided right then that I hated the woods.
It was eerily silent, as well. Every sound I made, every step that crunched into the snow, was overly loud. I winced every time I stepped on something, knowing that it was messing Beau up, but he simply paced through the woods on silent feet, his cat-nostrils working quietly, his breath whuffing.
We walked through the dark woods for a long time. My toes were icy, my fingers felt frozen, and the gun was ice-cold in my grip. The odd screams had stopped, replaced by a silence that was even creepier.
We’d seen the reddish orange lick of light from the window, and I assumed that was what we were heading for. Beau seemed to be leading us in a straight line, his steps slow and easy … until he suddenly dashed forward.
I raced to follow him, my feet crashing through the underbrush, curses stringing through my mind.
Beau had paused just ahead, and I followed after him like an awkward penguin. We stopped at a thick stand of trees, the moonlight peeking through the leaves overhead. The snow had been a thin blanket of white covering the ground, but here it was churned and dirty. At first I thought leaves were flung liberally through the snow, but the uneven splotches were too thick and too wet to be anything but blood. I swallowed hard.
Beau paced around the campsite, his nose to the ground, sniffing. His tail lashed angrily back and forth, and I kept a bit of a distance, gun in hand. Whatever had made those big bloody spots might come back.
Minutes later, Beau circled in on one spot, digging at the bloodied snow with a giant paw. He lifted his head and looked at me, eyes gleaming greenish yellow in the darkness.
“What? You want me to come over there?”
One slow, deliberate blink. Then another.
Since he couldn’t talk to me, I’d assumed that was a yes. I trudged over warily. “What is it?”
He tapped his paw at something in the snow, looking for all the world like a cat batting at a toy. I couldn’t make out what it was on the ground, so I reached down with my bare hands. My fingers closed over something cool and slightly damp, cylindrical and kind of firm but spongy. “I’m going to beat you on the head if this is something gross, you realize that, right?”
His tail flicked against my leg and then he moved into the woods again.
I followed after him, mind churning. What had happened here? Some animal making a kill in the woods? Or a shapeshifter leaving a message for us?
We circled around in the woods for a good while longer, until I was no longer frightened and just weary as hell. I dragged behind Beau as he raced through the night snow, pausing to sniff the ground and circle back once again.
Nothing else attacked. Nothing else happened. It was quiet. Too quiet, as they liked to say in the movies.
We stumbled into a clearing and I blearily realized that we’d somehow made it back to his house. “Thank God,” I said, and started forward.
Beau stopped in front of me, forcing me to pause. The cat looked up at me, flicking his tail in irritation. His head moved from side to side—was he shaking his head no at me?
“You want me to wait here?”
The deliberate double blink again. I sighed. “I’m going to assume that’s a yes,” I said, leaning against a nearby tree.
He nosed the hand holding the gun, his nose wet and cold. Then he disappeared into the house, tail flicking with agitation.
Right. He was reminding me to be alert. I lifted the gun and scanned my surroundings. If I saw anything, I was going to blow its head off.
Long minutes ticked by, and I glanced at the house, starting to get worried again. What was happening?
A shadow appeared in one of the windows and I sucked in a breath, pointing the gun toward it. But then Beau appeared, changed back to human form—naked again—and headed down the steps back to where I was hidden at the tree line. “Bathsheba, it’s safe to come inside now.”
I lowered the gun and went inside, studying my surroundings warily. Salt was all over the floor, covering the doorway. The only tracks I saw seemed to be Beau’s. I turned to look at him. “What’s going on?” My teeth chattered as I spoke; I hadn’t realized I was that cold. Or that scared.
He shut the front door, locked and dead-bolted it, then helped me with my coat, oblivious to his own nakedness. “I think whatever has been stalking you followed us out here.”
I realized I was still clutching the gun and handed it to him.
“You might want to give me that as well,” he said, gesturing at my fist.
I uncurled my hand and nearly threw up. The spongy cylinder was a finger, damp with blood and shredded at one end. “Oh, God,” I said, my stomach heaving, and flung it at him.
Beau snatched the object in midair and dropped it on the counter, then steered me toward the sink so I could have a nice, long vomit. And I did.
When I was done, I wiped my mouth and took the glass of water he offered. I pointedly looked away from where the finger lay. “So who does that belong to?”
“It smells like shifter,” he said, grim. “Wolf.”
I stiffened, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. “W-wolf?”
Wolf was not good. Wolf was not good at all.
Beau sniffed the finger. “Smells like Cash’s pack. Maybe Wade or one of his boys, if he’s back in town.”
“So what’s a werewolf’s finger doing on your property without the rest of him?” I said, gulping down water to try to calm my stomach. I knew what the wolf was doing around here.
He was looking for my sister.
But what had attacked the wolf prowling around the property?
“That is the question,” Beau said. He moved to wash my sick out of the sink. Once the water ran clear, he began to c
lean his own hands of dirt and blood.
Seeing him wash his hands made me painfully aware that mine were filthy as well, and I shared the tap and soap with him, scrubbing at my skin. “Did you smell anyone near the house?”
“No,” he said. “I only smelled you, me, and Arabella. Whoever was lurking around didn’t get close to the house.”
“So what do we do now? Call the police?”
“No. We wait for Ramsey to get here in the morning and see if he’s heard anything else or had any other strange experiences.”
I looked up at Beau, troubled. “You do realize I’m not going to be able to sleep for the rest of the night?”
“I’m sure we can think of something to do,” he said.
I raised an eyebrow at him.
He chuckled. “Come on. Even I know that the last thing on your mind is sex.” Beau leaned forward and pressed a comforting kiss on my forehead. “I’ll play cards with you, if you want.”
“All right.” I glanced down. “But you might want to put some pants on first.”
We played poker until three or four in the morning, both of us tense and edgy. It wasn’t fun, but trying to beat the other person took our minds off of things.
After we were done with the cards, I crawled onto the couch and lay down, and Beau let me rest my head on his knee as he played with my hair. I drifted off at some point, the soft sound of his purring in my dreams.
Chapter Eleven
I awoke to the sound of voices in the kitchen. Beau’s smooth tones were interspersed with an impossibly deep voice that had to belong to Ramsey. Still wiped out after last night, I dragged myself to my feet and shoved my hair back, hoping I didn’t look too ragged from lack of sleep.
As I approached the kitchen, I was disappointed to see that Sara wasn’t here. I was even more disappointed when both men stopped talking as soon as I entered. Rather annoying of them. They gave me polite nods. Ramsey was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans—very lumberjack—and Beau wore his signature dark T-shirt. At least he was fully dressed.
