"You're a werewolf," she whispered. Her heart fluttered and her breath changed from the quick, nervous pulse of infatuation to the sharp intake of fear.
He shook his head. "No. Not exactly." He was watching her closely, afraid she'd run. He stretched his hand over hers, gluing it to the table. She flinched, but then laced her fingers with his. "Don't be scared."
Kristin wanted to run. Everything she knew about werewolves said they were dangerous man-eaters. But Derrick didn't look dangerous, he looked... nervous. "Not exactly a werewolf?" she asked. "Then what?" She couldn't believe she was buying into any of this. She'd always thought her parents were crazy. But his eyes... and his knee... It had definitely been broken. She'd felt the pieces popping out behind his skin.
"A panther."
Her jaw dropped and her glass fell towards the floor. Derrick reached out with lightning speed and caught it in mid-air like it was a feather floating to the ground. "Oh my God," she said, trying not to raise her voice. Her eyes gleamed. Her blood burned with a strange heat that made her want to flee, but also stimulated her curiosity which overshadowed any fear she currently had. When she spoke, her voice was strong and steady—"Show me."
Chapter 5
Derrick and Kristin slipped out of the pub and started walking. Neither of them were familiar enough with the city yet to know where the good hangout spots were, so they just walked in silence until they came to a small park with two swings and a merry-go-round, no slide. Kristin sunk into a swing and pumped twice with her feet, then let the swing sort of roam over the dirt, too slow to lift her, too fast to just hang still.
"Funny that we're both back on the West Coast," Derrick said, taking the swing next to hers. He sat in it without moving.
"I'm not back," she said. "I never left." There was a bitter edge to her voice that Derrick wished he could wipe away with a kiss. It was dark and the air was warm, which was strange for early winter. The wind whipped around them, a light frenzy of energy seeping into Kristin’s skin and making it tingle.
Kristin had the urge to bicker. The longer they sat together, the more she realized she was pissed. "How could you not have written me?" she demanded.
He watched her in the darkness. She was angry. He could smell it. She was cute when she was mad.
"I did write," he said.
"What? When?" She snapped her head towards him.
"For the first six months I wrote every day. I thought you didn't write back because you'd moved on. That's what my parents said. Then one day I found my letters, still stamped, rubber banded together in a shoe box in my mom's closet."
Kristin's jaw fell open. At least now she could pinpoint where to direct her rage. "So it's your parents I hate. Not you?"
Derrick grinned. "You don't hate me."
"Yes, I do." She turned her head and pretended to be extraordinarily interested in the rust on the swing's chain.
He reached across the space between them and brushed her arm with his fingertips. It was no more than a second's touch, but thick waves of heat shot up her body. She looked back at him and felt the corners of her lips curl up. "Do too hate you," she said, then giggled.
Derrick was glad to see her smile. Her lips were too perfect to frown. They deserved smiles. "Do you know what happened between our parents?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Do you?"
"I think so. When I hit puberty, and started changing, my parents thought yours should know. We spent so much time together, they were afraid I might shift in front of you and scare you." He looked at her with apologetic eyes. "It's hard to control when it first happens. Your parents freaked out. I guess it's understandable. I mean... I am a dangerous predator."
He looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows. She giggled.
"So, that's it? That's the big secret after all these years? You're a werewo—a were-panther? What the hell do I call you?"
"Derrick always worked before," he said, and her laughter carried to his ears, a brilliant song in the still, night air.
"So, you gonna show yourself, panther-man? Or does the moon need to be full?"
"Watch the merry-go-round," he said, and began stripping off his clothes.
Kristin started to open her mouth but shut it when she saw Derrick's hair start to grow. It was already a little shaggy, but as he walked his hair seemed to stretch. By the time he got to the merry-go-round it was past his shoulders. He turned back to her once before sending the merry-go-round into a fast spin. His eyes had turned into gold coins that gleamed in the moonlight.
The merry-go-round spun once, twice, and on the third spin Derrick sent it into circles so fast it reminded Kristin of a tornado. He began to run alongside it, a racecar on its track. She was sure he'd get dizzy and stop, but his speed only increased. His focus intensified. As he ran, his clothes came off. She averted her eyes, but when his torso began to elongate—it almost looked like he was melting—she couldn't pull her eyes away. His face changed. His golden skin grew dark, and when he looked towards her a second later his face was black silk and his eyes were a golden hazel she'd never seen before.
He was running so fast he overtook the merry-go-round and jumped on. A second later he jumped off again. Then he jumped over it. He's playing with it, she thought, smiling. A big toy for a big cat. She'd never seen a black panther so close before. She watched, transfixed, until the merry-go-round slowed down. Feeling like she’d pass out, Kristin put her head between her knees.
Derrick was back beside her in an instant, human again, his hands on her back. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding anxious. "Did I scare you?"
Kristin was a little disappointed to see he had his pants back on.
"How could you not have told me?" she asked. Blinding fury raged up in her so strong she went to slap him, but at the last second she pulled back and ended up slipping her hand through his hair instead. He caught it and held it.
Derek looked at her with eyes so blue that even in the dark she could still read the heartache that echoed hers. "What was I supposed to say? I barely understood it myself."
Her face crumpled. If he'd told her any of this when she was fifteen, how would she have reacted? Would she still have loved him? She buried her head against his chest as tears pooled in her eyes. Kristin was suddenly very aware that he was naked. Muscles bulged from his chest, crafting deep, hard lines into his abdomen that made his chest look like a map of mountains and valleys.
"I never forgot you," she said, “us, I never forgot us.”
Derrick took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. It wasn't just vanilla, he realized. There were bits of lavender and eucalyptus intertwined throughout. She smelled like heaven. A thin film of sweat broke across his forehead. His heart pounded. He could hear hers pounding too. The moonlight fell across her face and when she tilted her head up Derrick couldn't help himself. He pressed his lips to hers.
As their lips touched, lightning struck them both. At least it felt like lightning. The energy wasn't just perceived, it was palpable. Long tendrils of bright light erupted from Derrick's limbs. They swam towards Kristin, circling her before devouring her in his blaze.
Kristin didn't know if what she saw was real, she only knew her hair was glowing. Her face felt like pure energy. She opened her eyes and it was like seeing the world for the first time. The air was almost visible with color. How had she missed the smell of pine trees and approaching rain that filled her nostrils so fully now? Derrick's own scent was magical. She could almost smell his blood calling to her.
Derrick brushed his lips over hers a second time and the impact was like an asteroid hitting Earth. She grabbed his neck, pulling him to her, needing to make him a part of her. He kissed her harder, the strange light around them pulsing as their hearts throbbed and their breath quickened. The kiss lasted an eternity, but still not long enough. When they parted, the lights faded and the air returned to normal, but there was a lingering buzz that seemed to follow them.
Derrick shook his head, clearing it.
"I've heard the stories," he said, "but I thought they were all bullshit."
"Stories?" she asked, breathless. "What are you talking about?"
"Panthers don't often mate with one person. We meet someone, are with them," he looked a little embarrassed, "and then move on. But you... you're my life-mate. That's rare Kristin, really rare. You're my soul mate."
She started to protest, then realized it was just nervous energy making her take exception. In truth, she felt it too.
"Now what?" she asked.
Chapter 6
The locker room was a madhouse. Champagne spilled into glasses, onto the floor, and over Coach's head. Kristin glowed in the corner as Derrick and Tate did some kind of chest bump. Then Derrick turned his head, ran to her, and picked her up in a giant bear hug, swinging her around the room. Her curves felt good under his hands, and when he kissed her a dozen football players—including Coach—made little woooooo noises like second graders.
The team knew about the two of them almost from the start. That night at Palidio's they'd seen them leave together and made a few assumptions. Tate had tried to get the details out of Derrick, but he'd acted like he didn't know what Tate was talking about. Derrick and Kristin had simply thought that, for now, it would be better to keep their relationship between themselves. Especially given the situation with their parents. Of course, the team wasn't about to let a secret this big slip by.
A few days after the merry-go-round, Tate and some of the guys had tried to hook Derrick up with a cheap blonde they "all knew and loved." They'd played her up to Kristin more than Derrick, making sure she knew how beautiful the blonde was and how good in bed. Kristin knew they were baiting her and had successfully ignored it all until the blonde had shown up in the locker room and started trying to give Derrick a lap dance. Then Kristin had gone a little bananas. She'd thrown a drink in the girl's face and called her a name or two that may or may not have been appropriate to the situation. Derrick had pulled her off the blonde and hustled her out of the stadium.
She heard the team laughing as Derrick dragged her off, shouting to each other, "Told ya. Our doc's a wildcat!"
Kristin had never felt so deeply humiliated in her life and was afraid she might even lose her job. Derrick told her not to worry, that it was just the team being a bunch of asshats, but that didn't do anything to stop the jitters that etched their way into her nerves. At the next practice though, all that had happened was that Coach had wagged a finger at her and told her to be careful 'cause football players were all a bunch of "playboy bums," and the rest of the team had started pinning little love letters to Derrick's locker. They'd also stuck a box of chocolate flavored condoms in her medical bag and sent Derrick and her matching lace underwear.
Now, as the team celebrated yet another victory—all the papers called the Peregrines unstoppable—Kristin felt thrilled to be included. Tonight, the Peregrines had really outdone themselves. They were a shoo-in for the playoffs, and Derrick was on the verge of beating Randy Wolfe's record. In two more games Wolfe and Derrick would be pitted against each other for the second time in their careers, and Derrick was certain it would be the game where he set a new world record for rushing yards.
"Celebration tonight!" Tate shouted. The players cheered and Kristin felt the cold rush of champagne spill over her head. She spun around just in time to see Tate run off, leaving her covered in sparkling alcohol, Derrick grinning like an idiot.
"Guess you're one of the guys now."
***
"So, do you want to tell your parents first, or should I tell mine?" Derrick asked the next day when they were alone. He was teasing—sort of. They were having a late lunch at Luigi's and Kristin's spaghetti was growing cold as she and Derrick argued once again about when, exactly, they should say something to their families. He knew perfectly well that she didn't want to tell her parents anything.
"They're gonna freak out."
"So?" he asked. "Let them." She shook her head, tired of this revolving conversation. She knew she couldn't keep their relationship a secret forever, and she didn't want to—she was crazy in love and wanted to shout it from the rooftops—but she also knew this was going to be more than just a little problem for her family.
The back booth at Luigi's was dark and quiet, and Kristin leaned across the table and kissed Derrick, grabbing his hand and rubbing it against her chin. Sparks raced up his spine and he felt the familiar tingle in his stomach as butterflies swarmed. She was trying to distract him, and it was working.
"Nice try," he said. "But you're going first."
"What?" she squealed. "Why should I go first?"
"Because this is all your fault. I got traded to Washington. You chose to be here. I had no control. You did. Hence, you go first."
He smiled and stuffed a forkful of steak into his mouth. Kristin found him infuriating, yet too adorable to stay mad at. “Skewed logic, Derrick.” She ripped a piece of garlic bread off her plate and stuffed it into her mouth.
"There's nothing sexier than angry chewing," Derrick said, and Kristin stuck her tongue out. No matter how stressed she was, he was always able to make her laugh.
A photographer who happened to be dining at Luigi's tonight too spotted them in their corner. A picture of Derrick Wellborn with a cute girl could be worth a lot—the public had an insatiable appetite when it came to Wellborn—but it was worth a lot more if the girl in question was famous.
The photographer studied their table for a minute before concluding that this girl was no actress or model. But after closer examination he thought she might be worth more than any of those dime-a-dozen floozies Wellborn was so fond of. The papers had scores of photos of Wellborn and some star or starlet. This wasn't just another two-bit extra the guy was out with. Wellborn was in love. It was written all over his face. The goofy grin... the love-sick glow. He had the look of someone who's girl could do no wrong. The photographer pulled his "off the clock" camera from his pocket and snapped a picture.
Chapter 7
"What were you thinking?" Kristin's mom shouted. Her voice rang in Kristin's ear like a fire alarm, piercing her eardrum.
"Mom, I'm not a child anymore. I date men. I date Derrick. Deal with it."
She heard her father in the background. His voice, usually soft and teacher-like, roared like a bulldozer, "You tell her she is FORBIDDEN to see that boy again. I want her home NOW."
Kristin held the phone away from her ear. Are they crazy? Home now? Like she was still a teenager and they could ground her and lock her in her room?
She wished now that she'd listened to Derrick and told her parents before that stupid picture of them had gotten into the papers. They were going to find out eventually, she'd only prolonged the execution. And not even for very long. Kristin decided to try a new approach.
"Listen. I know about Derrick." There was silence from her parents, and for a second she wondered whether they'd heard her. "I mean... you know... his shifter stuff."
She felt like she was talking to them about sex. It was a strange conversation to be having.
Her parents were silent. "Are you guys there?"
Then her mother started screeching. "What happened? Did he attack you? Did he—did he bite you?"
Kristin laughed. She couldn't help it. She wished Derrick would bite her. Well, maybe not bite, but something. The kissing was great. The touching was great. But it was all very PG rated. Derrick, like most athletes, wouldn't even think of having sex before a big game, let alone during any kind of winning streak. They'd kissed a few times, but mostly just held hands a lot.
"No Mom, he didn't do anything. He just told me the truth, that's all. He had to. He loves me." She paused, waiting for her words to sink in before dropping the big bomb. "And I love him."
She thought she heard her mom start to cry on the other end and considered pointing out that if her parents were really psychic, as they claimed, none of this should come as a surprise. But her mom's wails were too much and Kristin let it
drop. Her mom's words came out broken and breathy, "This is exactly what we were always afraid would happen."
Her father grabbed the phone from her mom. "We're flying up."
Kristin heard her parents struggle for the phone and then her mom shouted, "There's no time. We have to tell her now before he kills her."
Kills me? They really were nuts. That didn't stop the hair on her arms from standing up.
"Mom, I'm not going to die," Kristin said, trying to calm them down, but some of her confidence had drained. Derrick would never hurt her. Not in a million years. Still, an image from Old Yeller flashed through her mind...
"Honey, honey," her mom said, finally winning the struggle for the phone. "You don't understand. He's using you. Panther shifters look for mates to reproduce with, then either leave them or kill them when their job is done. They're heartless."
"No," Kristin said, her confidence returning now. "Derrick wouldn't do that. Besides, I'm his life-mate." Both her parents laughed, the kind of laugh that insinuated the ones laughing knew something you didn't.
Her mom must've finally hit speakerphone, because both her parents' voices rang out clear now. "There's no such thing," her father said. "That's nothing more than a legend. A story panther shifters tell their kids at night. It's not true."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"We've been hunting them for years," her mother said. "It's our job to know."
"Hunting?" Kristin thought she'd misunderstood for a second. "You don't mean... like hunting? With bows and arrows and guns and stuff?"
"Well, not exactly bows and arrows. And we use special bullets, plus a few other shifter-specific things, but essentially... yes." Kristin paused. It was her turn to let their words sink in. "Didn't you ever wonder?" her mom asked.
"Wonder about what?" Kristin felt like her brain was melting. Everything she thought she'd known was wrong somehow. Ghosts and ghouls did exist. Boogeymen were real. The fairytales got it right.
Bears of Burden: WYATT Page 80
