by Sennah Tate
Chapter 4
SLOAN
Sloan arrived at the Elder’s home right on time for their meeting. In one final gulp he finished his coffee and crumpled the ‘sexy’ cup, tossing it in the floorboard of his beamer — it was already in need of a detailing, what was one more piece of trash?
Cleaning his car out was the last thing on his mind as he walked to the front door of the plantation-style home. From the outside, it didn’t look like anything particularly special. Large columns and wrap-around porches made the home look stately, but not ostentatious. He briefly wondered if the Elder had been the original owner of the home.
Before his finger touched the doorbell, the door swung open on well-oiled hinges. A pretty young blonde greeted him with a broad smile. She barely looked old enough to be out of high school, let alone old enough for the giant rock sparkling on her left hand.
“Sloan?”
He nodded.
“My father is expecting you,” she said with a gesture, welcoming him into the impeccably decorated home. There was a lot of very old money in the Tigris clan. Much of that, due to Clarence Cunningham himself.
Her father?
“Rianne?” he paused, trying to match the leaf green eyes and playful cant of her head with his memories of a little girl. It had been a very long time since he’d been around the rest of the clan. “You’ve certainly grown up. The last time I saw you, you were still dragging around that stuffed animal… what was it? A deer?”
She laughed, her cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink, “An antelope. I learned to hunt pretty young.” She stopped and knocked lightly on a solid Oak door.
Sloan suddenly remembered his nerves. Rianne put his fears at ease for a moment, but now, faced again with the uncertainty of meeting with the Elder, his throat tightened.
“Do you know what this is about?” his voice sounded strained and Rianne patted him on the forearm.
“Don’t worry. Daddy’s not as scary as everyone thinks.”
Easy for her to say. She hadn’t walked out on his training years ago. She hadn’t turned her back on the entire clan. Of course she had nothing to be afraid of.
It wasn’t every day that the Elder called out of the blue for a ‘word’. Especially not when Sloan hadn’t been involved in clan affairs for at least a decade. What use could he be now?
“Enter,” a gruff voice called from beyond the barrier. Rianne turned the knob and ushered him forward, disappearing the moment the door closed behind him.
Two men sat in high-backed leather chairs, sipping absently on glasses of deep amber liquid. It wasn’t even noon and they were already drinking? He didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.
Before he had a chance to wonder who the second man was, the Elder spoke.
“Sloan. It’s been a little while.” The older man’s voice was measured. Even. Unreadable.
The last time he’d been in this room, he was being groomed to take-over. Clarence had — and lost — many children over the years. Shifter babies didn’t fare well typically and infant mortality rates were high. Those that lived, were often prone to violence, vulnerable to hunters and poachers and a million other complications. The Elder had wanted someone to take over in his stead.
Until they had a disagreement over the treatment of a traitor. Sloan wanted to show mercy. The Elder did not. In a hot-blooded rage, Sloan called him a despot and disappeared from Palm Haven for good.
Or, at least he thought.
The call he’d received a few days ago was brief: The clan needs you. A word, Tuesday at ten.
Maybe he shouldn’t have answered.
He knew that wasn’t an option. The clan would find him. Refusing the Elder’s call was nearly as bad as betraying their kind and Sloan happened to like his head attached to the rest of his body.
He nodded, gaze flicking to the stranger that regarded him with thinly veiled amusement.
“I was awaiting your call, it appears,” he finally said, resisting the urge to squirm under their scrutiny.
“I’d like you to meet my son-in-law, Randal,” the older man gestured, his lined face a hard stone mask.
The younger man — much younger, Sloan now realized — gave Sloan a self-satisfied sneer with a nod in his direction. Was he the one being groomed now? From his comfortable posture and easy breathing, Sloan didn’t need an answer.
“A pleasure,” Sloan said without offering his hand. Without being instructed to, he took a seat, matching Randal’s hard gaze with a challenge of his own. The Elder said nothing, content to watch his current and former protégé battle it out for dominance.
“What is this all about?” he asked, unable to contain his curiosity any longer — he was a cat, after all.
“I’m sure even on the outside, you’ve heard whispers. The wolves are planning something. A grab for territory across Palm Haven,” the old man said, lighting a cigar as he did.
Sloan nodded. He’d heard more than whispers.
“The bears have become more defensive as well. They’ve closed their borders, convinced that another clan is going to attack.”
Sloan didn’t voice his sympathy. With meetings exactly like this one no doubt happening all over town, he couldn’t blame the bears for closing ranks.
“What does any of this have to do with me?”
Sloan didn’t know if it was the Randal’s stupid weaselly face or the way he tapped his foot impatiently while the Elder spoke that made him want to attack the other man. Sloan’s jaw clenched and he thought he saw Randal grin. Did he enjoy seeing others uncomfortable?
“There has come to our attention the possibility of an intersection of Ley Lines within our territory. The Coven currently maintains control over the land, but that can be remedied if necessary.”
Sloan narrowed his eyes at each man in turn. He didn’t know much about the Coven or Ley Lines. The lines held veins of super-concentrated magic, but he didn’t know how witches used that or what use it would be to the tigers.
“I’m still not seeing where I come in,” he spat more forcefully than he intended.
“I don’t know anything about magic. I won’t know if the lines are there or not,” he amended, hoping to spare himself the wrath of the Elder.
Randal spoke this time, “You just leave the thinking to those more capable. We’ll tell you what to do. We have a plan all worked out for you. You just have to show up and look pretty. You can manage that, can’t you?”
Sloan’s hands tightened into fists. This kid had some nerve. Did Randal know that he was a last resort? That thought made Sloan feel a little better.
“Are you going to reveal any of the details of this plan?” He drolled, losing his patience.
“Of course,” the Elder spoke, easing the tension between the two hot-headed tigers. “Randal, pour our friend a drink, while we discuss the coming months.”
Randal’s expression twisted into an unattractive scowl that he carefully hid from the Elder. Sloan made a mental note to keep an eye on the guy. He could just be an asshole, but he needed to be sure.
With a drink in hand, he relaxed a little. But… did he say months? How long of a commitment did they expect?
Chapter 5
SARAH
“Happy Hump Day!” Janine called cheerfully the moment Sarah walked through the automatic doors.
She grunted a response. Not brave enough to show her face at the local coffee shop again, she was in desperate need of caffeine.
Janine helpfully offered her own travel mug, the beautiful aroma of a fresh-brewed Pacific blend triggering the pleasure centers of Sarah brain as she inhaled with a contented sigh.
“Mmm,” she finished three big swigs of coffee before returning the drink to its owner, “I’m almost human again,” she joked.
“You know what would wake you up even better than coffee? Breakfast in bed. Sausage in bed,” she waggled her precisely groomed eyebrows and Sarah rolled her eyes.
“I get it, it’s Wednesday,
har dee har. You’re awfully oversexed for an old married woman,” she teased back, hoping to divert Janine’s attention from her sex life.
Not that she had a sex life.
Her magic made sure of that. Sex was the most powerful fuel for her — or any witches’ — powers. The life energy shared between lovers had the same effect as recharging a battery. That was the last thing Sarah needed. More uncontrollable magic ruining her life and appliances.
No thank you.
“Do you think I’d stay married for twenty-seven years to a man that couldn’t make my toes curl? I think a little, uh-uh,” she grunted while moving her hips in a crude gesture, “would relieve a lot of that stress you pretend you’re not carrying in your shoulders.”
Sarah had to laugh. Her co-worker knew her far too well. But she was wrong about this.
“That’s quite all right, I’ll leave the… er… that to you and Mr. Buchanan,” she laughed.
Sex complicated things in general. Her life even more so. The one and only time she’d ever even come close to sex was… well, a disaster. She’d been in high school, young and foolish. She thought she could handle it but things spun out of control quickly.
That was when she realized her magic could hurt others unintentionally. When she vowed to shove it way deep down inside of her, never to see the light of day again — much to her mother’s dismay.
The memory was too painful to recall. Just thinking about that time in her life was enough to make her cringe. No, sex was not what she needed.
“Suit yourself,” Janine sighed with defeat, turning her attention back to the crossword puzzle on her computer screen.
And there it was. The guilt. Life would be so much easier if she could banter and tease about things like sex. It was kind of an important part of life and she had to miss out completely because of her irritating witchy powers.
But in another time… Another life… Sarah could see herself happy with someone. A kiss every morning, his arms wrapped around her, his warmth, seeping into her bones…
Her magic crackled to life, seeking the source of her arousal, a non-existent breeze rattled through the blinds.
Did Janine notice?
She was still glued to her crossword. Sarah released the breath she held. How many close calls had there been? How many times had her co-workers attributed her destruction to clumsiness and carelessness? Accidents seemed to follow her. Did they think it was just bad luck?
“Sarah? Helloooo? Earth to Sarah?” Janine waved a hand in Sarah’s face to get her attention.
Sarah blinked, and struggled to remember what Janine had just said, a flush of warmth creeping up her neck, “Um, eight letter word for legal protector… try ‘guardian’?”
Janine’s look of annoyance was enough to tell Sarah that she’d guessed the topic of conversation wrong.
“Sorry, Janine I was just—”
“Daydreaming. I know. Jerry just called us in for a meeting.”
What now?
Janine’s expression didn’t reveal much if she had any idea what the meeting was about. Sarah took one last long glance around the empty library — one day, someone was going to need her help… one day — before she squared her shoulders, prepared for the worst, and left the reference counter for the tiny back office.
In another time, the office they now crowded into was a storage closet. The rise of the internet and the death of card catalogs caused the library to undergo extensive renovations. Their old office — spacious and organized — was sacrificed for a new computer lab and all of the administrative, archival and research work now happened in the cramped former-closet, or at Sarah’s home without Jerry’s knowledge.
It wasn’t much of an employee meeting if she wasn’t there. She dreaded to think about the possible reasons to have them all gathered. He’d already shut down her event, what more could he do?
“What’s this about?” Sarah asked, pressing herself into a pile of boxes that stretched to the ceiling. One day she’d get around to cataloging everything. She shuffled on her feet, trying to disappear into the clutter; already self-conscious about her size, she didn’t need the reminder of tight spaces and she tried to avoid the tiny office when she could.
She turned the charm bracelet around her wrist, avoiding Jerry’s gaze. If he told her the library was getting shut down… she might be sick. She wouldn’t know what to do without this place. Finding another job in a library would be nigh impossible; theirs was a dying breed and many people didn’t see the usefulness of having a walking encyclopedia when they already had Google in their pocket.
Not to mention the affinity she had for the Kerris, specifically.
Seconds dragged on for eternity as she waited for an answer, her nerves tightly coiled, her stomach poised to drop to the center of the Earth at the right words. Or rather, the wrong ones.
“Well,” Jerry sighed, he bowed his head to the desk and the overhead light reflected off the top of his shiny bald head.
“Good news and bad news,” he said.
Janine shifted in her seat — she didn’t like to entertain the same worries that Sarah did about their uncertain future, but even she couldn’t put a spin on ‘bad news’.
“The good news is, I’m retiring,” he said, his wrinkled face never giving away his true feelings on the matter. Was this a decision of his own choosing? Sarah hated to think of some faceless board somewhere forcing Jerry into retirement.
“What’s the bad news?” Janine asked, her arms folded across her chest.
Jerry sighed.
“There’s no room in the budget to replace me.”
“So? No offense Jer, but Sarah could do your job in a heartbeat,” Janine said, flashing a smile over her shoulder.
Sarah appreciated the loyalty, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in charge of the entire place. The Kerris meant more to her than anything in the world, but putting anything in Sarah’s hands was a surefire way to destroy it.
“I know that. Unfortunately, there isn’t room in the budget for this position at all,” Jerry continued, seemingly unbothered by the affront to his usefulness.
“What are you getting at?” Sarah asked, suddenly impatient with his tip-toeing around the subject. If her whole world was going to come crashing down, the least he could do was get on with it.
Suddenly, a shadow darkened the room. Sarah’s head swiveled to tell whoever it was that this was a private meeting. Instead, she froze in place.
The man darkening their doorway was tall — his short crop of black hair, dusted with the faintest hint of grey, nearly tickled the molding — with broad shoulders and the silent confidence to fill the entire room without drawing any attention to himself. Sarah’s objections fled and she stared at him tongue-tied. She recognized him.
He took another step into the room and Janine finally felt his overbearing presence. His well-tailored suit oozed authority, but the lack of a tie gave Sarah a glimpse of something else — maybe he didn’t take himself too seriously.
“I’m going to be your new Director,” he said simply. Her heart clamored up her throat, damming up the flood of comments Sarah couldn’t force out.
Sarah’s gaze hovered over the man she’d met at the coffee shop, then to Jerry. When Jerry didn’t object, she turned her attention back to the stranger.
“How is that possible? If there’s no money in the budget…” she finally found her voice to protest, her magic already bubbling to the surface, seeking him like a lightning rod.
“I’ve agreed to accept the position without compensation. In addition to a healthy contribution from my trust.”
He seemed bored with the details, but his eyes — those impossibly green eyes — never left Sarah’s. The longer he stared at her, the more the lump in her throat grew. His trust? He must be worth a fortune. That explained the suits, at least.
She twisted her bracelet around her wrist, unable to break eye contact no matter how uncomfortable his piercing gaze made her. No matte
r how much she wanted to squirm and hide from his perusal. A moment too late, she felt the surge of energy leave her fingers and she let out a startled squeak as the pile of boxes behind her tumbled all around, burying her under a mountain of cardboard and stray papers.
“Sarah!” Janine shrieked, leaping to her feet to help free her friend from the rubble.
“I'm okay!” Sarah cried, muffled through layers of debris. She was glad that no one could see how her cheeks burned red or how close she was to tears. How could she work with a man if she couldn’t even stand near him without causing an avalanche?
That definitely wasn't the first impression she wanted to make on the new director.
A strong hand shot through the pile of boxes; Sarah felt him searching for her and managed to grab onto him.
Instant electricity arced through her fingers and as he yanked her from the pile, boxes flew across the room with unnatural velocity. Sarah hoped no one noticed.
She regained her footing and he still held her hand. Finally, she brushed herself off and let her eyes fall to their joined hands, wanting to snatch hers away like it was on hot coals. She tried to maintain her composure, though she was certain she saw him smirk at the way she fidgeted.
“Nice to meet you, Sarah,” he said, amusement sparkling behind verdant eyes, "I'm Sloan, your new director."
Chapter 6
SLOAN
He noticed her the moment he stepped into the sad excuse for an office and had to catch his breath. She wasn’t the last person he expected to see, but damn close to it.
It was hard not to notice her — auburn hair pulled into a tight bun, stylish glasses and curves for days — she was the hot librarian fantasy personified, and much less disheveled than the previous day. Sloan expected all of the librarians to be old biddies with nothing better to do than watch dust collect on the shelves.
