by AJ Hampton
“Don’t look at me like that.” He pressed his palm against his forehead. He must have had one hell of headache.
“I didn’t say anything,” she said defensively and opened the door for him.
“You didn’t need to. I’m driving.”
“The hell you are! Sit down. Shut up. And for the love of God, would you cover up?” she yelled and threw the blanket she kept behind her seat at him.
When he grinned, she shook her head.
Chapter Seven
Trent’s wounds continued to mend. Pain flared, tightened his skin. His muscles twitched, pulsed, and cramped tight. He was a lucky bastard. He’d never been so close to the grim, fiery gates of Hell. In that clichéd second before he bought the farm, so to speak, the only thing he could think of was Sam. Of making her his. Of what a jackass he was. Now, he’d been given a second chance.
Jeremiah had appeared like a hallucination of yellow sunshine. As Trent lay there fighting death, he’d thought it was just a figment of his twisted imagination. A shot rent out. The smell stung his nose. The wolf at his throat released, snarling. It found a new target. Sam. She’d saved his ass. As she’d backed up, her brown eyes wide, lower lip trembling, he’d felt her heart exploding with fear. The gun wavered in her hand, too heavy for her frame. Another shot, another burst of acrid gunpowder. The wolf took it, kept on moving.
He’d never been good around others. Kill, fight, and fuck. He was one hell of a selfish bastard. He was top cat, and everyone else was beneath him. Lying on the ground, there had been one spark left inside him. Shifting would have saved his life. Forcing his body upright, he’d known throwing every ounce of strength he had left to protect his mate would save her life.
When he rose from the ground and pushed forward, there’d never been a choice. Without her, he was nothing. Now, as they sat in dark silence, the even thrum of tires moving over the highway, he wondered where he’d lost her. The rift between them started as a crack, something to be stepped over. Fifteen minutes later, her chilled silence now created a fucking crevasse as wide as the Grand Canyon. Was it the sight of him as an animal? Was it the stench of blood on his breath? Was it the fact that he’d crushed her attacker’s skull in one bite? Hell, her shirt was splattered with it.
The headlights cut through the slant of rain. Drops pinged off the roof and created a boom of sound inside the cab. When he’d listened to the drops of beer falling off the table earlier that night, he should have taken it as an omen. The chill set in, and the hairs on his arms rose. It wasn’t from the moisture clinging to his skin or from the temperature outside.
“Sam...”
With her eyes glued to the road, he let his gaze pass over the profile of her face. Her nose was small, her lashes long. She blinked every few seconds. Exhaling a soft breath, she sucked her lip into her mouth. Dirt smudged her cheek; the tears made a path through it.
“Come on, Sam, we need to talk.” His tone was as gentle as he could make it.
The road curved. Her knee dipped, and she put pressure on the gas. As the faded green county-line sign whirled past the truck, the town disappeared. Trees lined either side of the road, and with every mile, the forest surrounding them became denser.
She slanted her eyes in his direction for just a moment before darting them back to the road. “You need rest.”
Fresh tracks shimmered over her cheeks, dripped from her chin. Oh hell, she was crying.
“Pull over,” he ordered.
“What?” She laughed. It wasn’t the one he was fond of. “No.”
He was really beginning to hate that word. “Damn it, Sam.” Reaching across the seat, he grabbed the wheel and jerked.
Her tongue clicked against the roof of her mouth. She let off the gas and slammed on the brakes. The truck skidded, sliding through the layer of water until it came to a stop on the side of the road. One more inch and they’d go headlights first into the muddy ditch.
She whipped her head to the side. Anger made her cheeks red. There, that was the spark he remembered.
“What the hell did you do that for?” She was screaming now. “Almost getting killed once tonight wasn’t enough?” The tears fell quicker.
“If you’d listen to me for a goddamned second.” It was a rant; he knew it, but he was helpless to hold back. They were both running on nothing but emotion. The deep breath he took stung his lungs. “I know you’re scared, but I swear, I’m going to be all right.”
She made a rude sound in the back of her throat. “Classic! You have no idea what I’m thinking. I know you’ll be fine. You wouldn’t be such a pain in my ass if you weren’t going to make it.”
“Then what’s up with you?” Women. There was a reason he avoided them.
“Nothing.” She said it too quickly.
The heavy beat of her heart thudded in his head. She gripped the steering wheel, and her knuckles turned white.
“Nothing, my ass,” he mumbled, turning his head toward the window. His jaw was swollen, eye turning black. The bruise would be gone by the morning.
“We can’t do this,” she blurted.
His jaw clenched, created an ache that shot up the side of his face. He was tired, sore, and cranky. His head snapped in her direction. “Woman, I wish you’d stop telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“This, us, it’s not going to work. You were right. You’d be at my side. The only place you want to be is on top. I didn’t realize it until I saw you out there tonight.” When she turned to look at him, tears dripped from her chin. Her voice took on a low, breathy tenor. “God, Trent, it was the most amazing and terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.”
Was there some kind of a riddle he needed to solve?
“So you’re afraid of me, then? I’d never hurt you. When the jaguar is free, instincts take over. I can’t change that. You saved my life. I saw the look in your eyes when you pulled the trigger that second time. You were scared shitless, yet you still did it. Without a shadow of a doubt, you belong to me. I’ll be your familiar.”
She whipped her head to the side, and wet locks slapped her cheeks. Her hands fell into her lap, mouth dropped open. “You’re saying that only because I saved your life. I won’t create this bind out of obligation. I don’t need magic. I’ve accepted that. I’ve got friends, the bar, Miah...maybe we’ll find a way to work it out.”
“So that’s what’s wrong with you? You think I feel duty bound? Sam, I love you.” There, he had said it.
Grasping the bundle of keys hanging from her ignition, she cranked. The motor roared to life; tires squealed. The truck bounced over the grass until it smoothed under the pavement. She sped through the rain, her foot pressing the pedal all the way down.
“Forget it. I’m not going through with it. Right now, you don’t know what you want. I saw the look in your eyes when I told you that you were my familiar. That doesn’t just go away because you’ve had a near-death experience.”
The urge to smash his fist through the window surely wasn’t going to win him any points. Never in all his life had he met someone who frustrated him the way she did.
“Damn it, woman, stop being so stubborn! I know exactly what I want. It’s you who’s having the issue. Sure, I was scared, still am. But I’m more terrified of losing you. So what if it took me almost dying to realize that? There might not be another chance. We’ll grow into each other. I’ll be what you need.”
The truck veered off the highway, onto the long stretch of bumpy road his property was set on. She took the driveway at forty miles per hour, making his teeth rattle. He waited, stomach starting to knot with a sick feeling. She’d been silent too long.
A moment later, the modest, one-story cabin he and his brother had lived in for the past few months came into view. A curving lake wrapped around the back of the house. The surface was normally calm. Tonight, it rippled from the rain. Sam pulled to a stop, killed the engine, but didn’t move. Over her breathing, the only thing he heard was the rain pelting the roof.
He dropped the blanket clutched around his shoulders. The wool pooled around his waist, scratchy, abrasive on his skin. Reaching across the seat, he cupped the side of her face that was pointed toward her window. He turned her head, slid close, and closed the distance between them. His finger moved along her face, cradling her cheek and the back of her neck.
When his tongue ran across her lower lip, the taste of her tears broke his heart. Capturing her mouth, he pushed that into his kiss. Desperate. He held her tight. Wet, tangling strands of hair covered his fingers. Every ounce of love and frustration he had, he poured into that moment. She responded, curved into him, her hands trailing over his chest, over the fresh scars.
She moaned into him. His stomach coiled, muscles jumping. Their heads turned, pressed together in a new angle that made his brain shut off. His hands dropped from her face, cupped her shoulders before sliding around her back. Despite his injuries, his cock grew stiff against her thigh. At least something worked. Her fingers froze, straightened until her palms were flat against his shoulders. She pushed, used all her strength to separate them.
“I’m sorry,” she sputtered through a new burst of tears. “I never meant to lead you on.”
He was angry now. For once, this wasn’t about sex. “You think I want to fuck? Give me an ounce of credit. I just got my ass kicked. Trust me, honey, I’m up for it, but I’m not.”
“Go get some rest.” She never bothered to answer his question. That might have pissed him off the most.
He closed his eyes, fought the instinct to reach for her dashboard and rip it from the console. His fingers twitched. He was too exhausted to do more than growl and rip the door open. As he jumped from the truck and slammed the door shut behind him, rain stung his skin. He saw her jump and, as the sobs started to hiccup her chest, her shoulders buckled. It was all too much too soon. She needed time. On Halloween he’d be there. He’d show her that his love wasn’t an obligation.
The truck roared to life, tires spinning in mud. She lurched forward and sped off. He watched, standing naked in the cold, unforgiving rain until the red glow of taillights disappeared. Finding his legs, he trudged toward the house. He went from the first step to the fourth in one stride, his feet slicking over the wet porch.
Water dripped down his back, between his ass cheeks, before falling into a puddle that gathered around him. “Goddamn women,” he muttered and paused to wipe his feet on the thick straw welcome mat.
The door opened with a rush of familiar scents. On a long night, it would have been a comfort. Tonight, it felt lonely. Through the darkness, he made out the stacks of takeout cartons and empty beer bottles littering the coffee table. He didn’t even bother turning on the light. From memory alone, he navigated around the large, oversized couch toward the kitchen.
He bypassed the fridge and went straight for the cabinet. His fingers grasped the square bottle of Jack and took it down from the cupboard. Using his teeth, he unscrewed the cap. It pinged to the ground, rolling behind him. He wrapped his lips around the spout. Thick, sweet, the whiskey whetted his palate, eased the chill in his stomach.
As he walked, the liquid in the bottle splashed against the sides. It reminded him of Sam. The first waves of fatigue hit him, and his eyes fluttered closed. Taking another swig and swallowing, he looked down. A mixture of mud and blood painted his stomach and thighs. Lines of pink, puffy skin drew along his side and created a deep ache he felt each time he drew in a breath. He’d been taken tonight.
He fumbled with the switch. Bright, yellow light filled the bathroom. It made his eyes water. Setting the whiskey on the side of the bath, he bent and twisted the faucet. Hot water poured from the spout, and he crawled inside the tub. A hot bath always helped heal him faster. When he reached for the liquor, the muscle in his arm spasmed then jerked.
“Shit,” he mumbled, trying to catch the bottle of shampoo he’d knocked into the water.
It was too late. Before he was able to fish it out, the soap had already done its damage. Bubbles multiplied into a moving, pulsing layer of foam. It spread outward, tickling the hair on his legs. If it weren’t bad enough that he was Sam’s beck-and-call boy, he was now taking a bubble bath. It really wasn’t his night. He leaned back, neck cradled on the lip of the tub, and stared at the ceiling. He was too tall for the bath. As the warmth started to lap at his thighs, one leg hung over the porcelain side.
When he was completely immersed in water, he used his big toe to nudge the dial closed. He cradled the bottle to his chest and let out a breath. His eyes fluttered. Just as the numbness took over, his eyes snapped open at the sound of the front door slamming shut. Jeremiah. He’d know his brother’s scent anywhere. Damn. He must have fallen asleep.
His brother came to the bathroom, and his footsteps faltered. Trent could tell there was some hesitation before Jeremiah peeked around the door. Eyes crossing in confusion, Jeremiah walked into the bathroom and folded his arms over his chest. His gaze scanned the tub, the leg hanging over the rim, and then the foam layer of bubbles.
“What’s next? Scented candles and a Celine Dion CD playing in the background?” Jeremiah said it with a perfectly straight face.
“Fuck you,” Trent growled.
Ignoring him, Jeremiah pressed on. “Where’s Sam?”
Trent let out a short sound that resembled laughter. It took an insane amount of effort to bring the bottle to his lips. It was worth it. His head buzzed, the pull of the liquor beginning to take over. He was far from drunk, but he sure as hell was going to sleep like a rock.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He waved his brother away with the bottle before cradling it against his chest.
“You never want to talk about it. And damn, dude, move the suds. The submarine is surfacing.”
Trent didn’t even look down. The only muscles he moved were the ones it took to shrug.
“What the hell is going on between you two? No more bullshit.” His baby brother was starting to grow a backbone.
Rolling his head to the side, Trent glared at his brother. It was hard to be intimidating while in a bubble bath with your dick floating above the water.
“I’m not scared of you.” Jeremiah’s arms over his chest tensed. “Spill.”
“There’s some spell, ritual, whatever. She needs to do it on Halloween. In order to do that, she needs her familiar.”
“Her what?” Jeremiah asked.
At least he’d never heard of it either.
“Turns out”—Trent took another drink—”I’m a witch’s bitch.”
Jeremiah lifted an eyebrow.
“Strangest part is, I think I’m okay with that. I love her, Miah. If I don’t do this, I’m going to lose her. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, but eventually she’ll resent me for screwing up her life. So, I tell her I want to go through with it. What does she do?” He was on a roll now.
“She changed her mind?” Jeremiah guessed.
Nodding, Trent took a long swig. It helped numb everything except the pain in his chest. “She told me no, that I didn’t know what I wanted.” His arm unfolded to the side, and he offered up the bottle. Jeremiah looked at it, shrugged, then took a drink. His brother slid down the wall, closed his eyes. Dirt smudged his face; scratches marred his neck and chest.
Then it hit Trent. He was sitting naked, in a bubble bath, with his brother in the same room, pining over a woman. He stood. Water ran down his chest and legs, taking the trailing remnants of bubbles with it. Jeremiah blinked, his eyes opening, then groaned and shut them. No matter how comfortable shifters were in the nude, there was something different about seeing your brother naked up close and personal.
“You’re turning me into a girl,” Trent grumbled, snatching a towel from the rack and pulling it around his waist. He walked over the length of legs in his way, shaking his head on the way to his bedroom.
Just as his hand closed around the knob, his brother’s voice carried down the hall. “Just remember, you were the one with the bu
bbles, not me.”
“In the morning, I’m going to kick your ass,” he yelled back.
“Right.”
Collapsing face-first into the mess of sheets on his bed, he closed his eyes. The world spun around him. The overhead fan swooshed, sent a chill over his wet skin. He shivered but was too tired to care.
Chapter Eight
Eyes blinking open, Sam stared at the ceiling of her bedroom and tried to figure out why in the hell she was awake. It felt like she’d just fallen asleep. Light flooded the room. Damn, she’d forgotten to close the curtains. Groaning, she clutched her blanket and drew it over her head. If she could sleep for the rest of eternity, she’d be all right. Dreams were a heck of a lot better than reality.
A wet, warming sensation tickled her toe.
Her leg jerked; she shot straight up in bed. The covers slid down her face, pooling around her waist. She could feel the static in the air. Her hair, once neatly pulled back in a ponytail, was loose and sticking everywhere. She gave the term “bed-head” an entirely new meaning.
Had someone been licking her foot? Her heart jackhammered in her chest. She was almost afraid to look. When she glanced down, the breath she’d been holding released all the tension in her body. How could she have forgotten? Today was Halloween. The one day the boundaries between the living and the dead dissolved.
Hovering on the edge of her bed was a furry puff of drooling canine. It was her childhood puppy, Gordon. Through the Pomeranian she could see the dresser behind him. And thank goodness, his drool didn’t create a pool on her covers like it had when he was alive.
Eager, panting, the pup swiped his tongue against the sole of her foot where it peeked out from under the blanket. She hated when he did that.
“Stop that,” she chastised with a frown.
On a normal Halloween, she looked forward to seeing the pup again. Not, though, after listening to Brenda and her latest boy toy screaming, panting, and moaning last night. It was far too early in the morning to enjoy anything. She swung her legs over the bed, toes sinking into the carpet. Bringing a hand through her hair, she refastened it in the rubber band she fished out from the nest of tangles. When she brought up her head, the eyes that appeared in front of her face made her heart stop. Screaming, she gripped her blanket and covered her bare shoulders. It had been hot and too humid from thunderstorms for her not to peel off her tank top in the middle of the night. The apparition in front of her grinned. Floppy blonde hair, pale blue eyes...it was an ex-boyfriend who’d disappeared a few years ago. So that was what happened to him. Her eyes narrowed; her lips pursed. What a way to wake up.
