by P. Jameson
“I came here for you,” he said roughly, his words tumbling out like a waterfall over jagged rocks. “To this lodge, this clan. I came here because I was looking for you. Because I intended to claim you and force you under my protection, so my brother could never harm you like he does in my dreams. But when I arrived and learned about the pact, and that you’d pledged to remain free… I couldn’t take that from you.”
His eyes went shadowy with grief, and Bailey stifled a whimper at seeing what she felt through their bond reflected on his rugged face.
“I knew the pain of being bound against my will. Of my choices not being my own. Of being ruled by the whims of others. And for safety or not, I couldn’t do that to you. Not to you. Not to mine.” His voice was a barely contained growl, holding so much tangled emotion each word felt like a slap. His feelings were so strong, so sudden, it left Bailey’s head spinning. “I had to find another way to protect you. Be near to watch, but distant enough nobody would ever know you were the one. Everything I’ve done… god, all the harsh words and cold stares… it was to keep you safe.”
Bailey blinked back fresh tears. “Why are you telling me this now?”
“Because it doesn’t matter. Keeping my distance doesn’t matter. Rigor knows what you are. He knew in five fucking minutes, which means I’m shit for keeping secrets. And Felix will know soon enough if he doesn’t already. So this farce is pointless. I’m not willing to go on hurting us anymore, when it won’t do a damn bit of good in the end.” With a slow shake of his head, he murmured, “Especially now that I know… now that I know what kind of hope you held in your heart for us. I never had that, Bailey. I only ever felt hopeless. Still do. It feels impossible, you and me. The only thing I can do now is find a new way to keep Felix away from here. I don’t know what it is yet, but I will find it.”
“I know,” she whispered. If there was one thing she’d learned about Gash, it was that he’d go to battle for what he loved. He was a fighter. It was in his blood, and he’d always fight for Ouachita.
So why did his confession leave her feeling more alone than before?
She knew this was a big step for Gash. He wasn’t the type to spill his guts all willy-nilly. He was telling her she mattered to him. At least in the way a male cat feels for their female. Territorial. Protective. Instinctually, he needed to keep her safe and that’s what he’d been trying to do all this time.
She got it, she did.
But there was one thing he didn’t say in all those words he’d spilled. One thing she needed to hear if they were ever going to be anything more than friends. The only thing that would make mating acceptable in her eyes.
That he wanted her.
Not because she needed his protection. Not because it was his duty to see she was cared for. But because he wanted her, and only her, for the extent of their lives. Like Renner and Beth. Like Eagan and Clara. Magic and Josie, Ryan and Layna, Doc and Owyn. So many perfect matings for their clan. She’d say it was a miracle, but it wasn’t. It was just people loving people and deciding to remain committed no matter what.
Now she wanted her own perfect union. Settling for anything less would be an insult to all their clan had worked for. An insult to Gash. And definitely an insult to herself.
She wouldn’t be anyone’s needy female. She was a tigress.
“Thank you for telling me,” she forced past her lips. Gash still held her face but when she tried to pull away, he let go, his brow crumpling in a frown.
He cleared his throat as she turned to busy her hands wiping down the counter.
“You deserved to know.”
He watched, big arms crossed over his chest, as she finished putting things away. Bailey felt the heat of his gaze following her the whole time, and when she hit the switch on the lights and pushed through the kitchen door to the dining room, Gash was hot on her heels.
The walk from the lodge to her cabin was longer since her place was the farthest away. There were plenty of other empty cabins closer to the main building, but she’d chosen one farther out on purpose. And she rarely ever took a four-wheeler to work because she liked the exercise. Now, she was wishing she’d made an exception.
The trail was dark aside from the light of the half full moon and the accompanying stars. Gash was silent as he followed her. It was just how it needed to be. Quiet so her mind could sort through things.
Tomorrow was a new day. New faces to meet. New feelings to deal with. New problems that would need solving. For tonight, there was her comfy bed and a pint of pecan turtle fudge ice cream waiting for her at home.
Chapter Three
Gash climbed the steps to Bailey’s cabin, giving her as much space as his cat would allow. Which was none to speak of.
She fumbled with the lock on her door, and finally got it open before turning to face him. He wanted to touch her again. How would he ever be able to keep from it now? It was easier when he didn’t know how soft her dark skin was or how powerful her emotions felt through their tiny bond. Ignorance was bliss, because now, knowing what he knew, he wanted to wrap himself around her and stay that way forever. He wanted to fuse them together and feed off her hope like a goddamn emotional leech.
His Bailey wanted a future with him. She didn’t want to take him for a test drive. It wasn’t just a simple musing as he’d assumed. Like, hey, I wonder if Gash would make a good mate. No, she’d already chosen him. Her tiger wanted him badly and so did the woman. Even with all the distance he’d placed between them, even with the cold shoulder, she chose him.
It made his throat burn with tears he’d never let fall.
It changed everything.
He swallowed the lump in his throat as Bailey’s guarded gaze met his.
“I’ll see you at breakfast?” she asked.
Gash nodded. “For sure.”
“Goodnight.”
“Yeah.”
Gritting his teeth against his jag’s complaints, he watched Bailey go inside and close the door behind her. When her living room light clicked off and the one in the bedroom came on, he forced himself away. She was safe. There was no reason for him to be here.
He stalked down the porch, giving Mason’s cabin a glance. It stood across the trail from Bailey’s and that fact had given Gash a lot of grief over the past year. Mason was known for his sexcapades. He was the Suavio of the clan. The cougar shifter made a lot of females googlie-eyed and sweaty. And even though all his charm didn’t appear to work on Bailey, Gash hated the virile male being in such close proximity to his female.
He was about to walk on when he noticed Mason lounging on the steps of his cabin in the dark. The porch cast a shadow for the moon, so Gash had almost missed him where he sat on the bottom step, elbows propped up on the top one, and a bottle of Corona hanging casually from his grip… staring at Bailey’s front door.
Squinting, Gash took in the male’s gaze. It was calculating. Considering. Planning his route of attack. Gash knew that look. Mason was hunting. Tracking his prey, and his prey was…
Aw, hell no.
Stalking across the road, Gash let the animal inside feed his anger. Bailey was his. Tonight proved it. And no male was going to look in her direction the way Mason was right now. Not without getting beat to shit.
Gash was buzzing with energy as his boots ate up the gravel path. His fists clenched, aching to make contact with Mason’s pretty-boy face.
The cougar didn’t move from his relaxed state. In fact, he looked almost amused. Didn’t he know Gash was going to rip him up?
When Gash was halfway there, Mason chirped up. “Before you actually throw that punch I know you’re considering, let me say that I definitely see the attraction.” He whistled low in appreciation, causing Gash’s cat to snarl and claw. “I might have lusted over that female once upon a time, not gonna lie. But I swear, I’m not stepping in on whatever you got happening with her—”
Gash’s phone let off a loud alarm that sounded like a siren. It was his ringtone, but
blaring from his back pocket, it sounded more ominous than a simple incoming call.
He was fuming, but he paused his attack. Because no one except Ouachita cats had his cell number. If it was ringing in the middle of the night, it was because there was a problem.
Mason must’ve caught the significance of the late-night call because he tossed his half empty beer aside and stood, staring into the darkness of the forest, his nose in the air to scent for danger.
Gash dug the phone from his pocket and hit the answer button without looking. He’d have to hurt Mason later.
“Yeah,” he barked into the receiver, his voice still rough from his cat’s nearness.
There was silence on the other end, and Gash pressed the phone tighter to his ear. But a long, low whistle came over the speaker and he froze.
He knew that sound. That specific sound. It brought him back to his fucked up childhood, and humid summer nights watching his pops and the shadow cats torment innocent people for monetary gain. Evil for hire. That’s what the Alley Cats were at their core. And it started way before he was ever born.
Born to the wrong clan. Born the wrong species. He was the motherless cub left to the care of a wicked stepmother and an even more wicked father. And a half-brother that gave him chills with the simple sound of a whistle.
“Felix,” he growled.
Pops groomed them young to be Alley Cats. While he’d forced them to watch his dirty deeds, Gash had felt sick. But Felix had smiled, whistling that low, warning tone. Over the years, it had become his calling card. The whistle was the last thing any enemy usually heard.
“How did you get this number?”
“Oh, brother,” Felix drawled deep. “It’s so good to hear your voice. Your living breathing voice. Me and the boys mourned your death. Even got retribution for it. We dumped Scar in the river. Yes, sir. All his pieces are resting in the bottom of the Mighty Mississippi. In the exact place we thought you were resting.”
Gash ground his teeth, turning in a half circle until he could see Bailey’s cabin clearly. Mason was already pulling his shirt over his head and ducking his jeans to shift for a patrol.
“Scar was a sick bastard. He deserved to die.”
“Hmm,” Felix mused. “Maybe. But now we have another problem, brother.”
He hated when Felix called him that. Yes, they shared a father, but there was nothing else to warrant the use of that term. His brothers were Eagan, Magic, Ryan, Renner, Owyn, and yes, Mason, the bastard.
“See, you abandoned your family, your clan,” Felix continued, his false hurt sounding as phony as he’d intended it. “You left us in the middle of a hit and pretended you were dead. That’s treason, brother. And that means we get to take it out of your skin.”
“Never,” Gash hissed. “Never again.”
“Look, this is a courtesy, Gash. Because you’re my blood, I’m giving you a chance to pay the price like a man, willingly.” His voice went from fake pleasant to sneering with hatred. “Instead of the chicken-shit coward half-breed that you are. Listen here, brother. It’s real fucking simple. You’ll pay for this betrayal. Either with your hide or with your heart.”
Gash went stiff. He recognized a threat when he heard one. Your heart.
“What the fuck does that mean?” he spat, nodding to Mason. The man shifted in an instant, his cougar coming forth a second before darting into the woods.
Felix let out a derogatory chuckle. “Oh, now. Don’t play dumb with me, brother. You know what I’m talking about. Pops always said your heart was too soft, and he was right.”
“We’re protected here. We have bears. And our cats aren’t helpless. You can try to hurt my clan, but you’ll have a fight on your hands like nothing you’ve ever seen.”
Felix’s voice went deadly quiet. “I’m not talking about your clan.”
Gash stared hard at Bailey’s cabin, his brain scrambling to get a read on Felix.
He knows.
His throat closed up and his mouth went dry at the realization.
He knows about mate.
“Yeah, brother. Is it making sense now? I know about your little bitch.”
“Rigor told you,” Gash rasped, but Felix just laughed.
“You think I sent Rigor up there alone? You think I’d trust the fate of my very own brother to a fucking wolf? Naw. I didn’t become the leader of this clan by trusting people, Gash.”
But no, that couldn’t be right. There’d only been two wreckers and every man there was a dog. No cats. He’d made sure of that from the beginning.
“You’re lying.”
“I wouldn’t waste my time lying to you. There was a third truck. Rigor was supposed to pass you off to them as soon as you were clear of Ouachita land.”
A third truck. Gash’s mind raced, and the sound of big cats roaming the woods registered in his ears. He scented the air but there was nothing strange. Magic, Mason, and Renner. Others would be patrolling soon. He could see lights flipping on inside cabins down the path even hidden by thick foliage.
“I’m going to kill her,” Felix growled, his fury whipping through the phone to lash Gash’s cat. “I’m going to flay you, and then I’m going to make you watch as I destroy your mate. I owe you a life.” And then the line clicked dead.
Gash shook with rage. I owe you a life. The phrase was used by the shadow clan to declare that you owed someone bigtime. A pledge to return the favor when someone had your back. In short, that you’d give your life to pay the debt.
Felix’s parting words were a twisted version. They were a promise that he’d take the life Gash had made for himself here. Starting with Bailey.
Gash dropped his phone and ran for his mate’s cabin. But before he got far, a pale cougar with dark markings on his face bounded out from the trees. Mason. Gash skidded to a stop before the snarling animal.
“Bailey,” he snapped. “He’s going to get Bailey.”
Mason shifted to his human form, breathing heavy, his eyes still reflecting those of his cat. “Our land is clear. There’s no one around.”
Gash shook his head, trying to step past the man. “Have to check my Bailey.”
Something painful flashed over Mason’s eyes, but he stopped Gash once again. “I checked the perimeter of her place. There are no strange scents. Check on her, fine, but after we talk. It’s important.”
Gash looked at Bailey’s cabin, and back to Mason. Shit.
Need to see mate. See that she’s well.
Shit.
“Make it fast,” he snarled.
“Fine. But I’m not having this conversation with my dick hanging out.” Mason jogged over to where he’d left his clothes and quickly yanked on his jeans. “As I was saying before your asshole brother called, I’m not interesting in fighting you for Bailey.”
Good. Because Gash would win that fight hands down. Not because Mason couldn’t throw one down, but because no one, would win that particular fight against Gash.
“I was watching you two—like I have all the others—trying my damndest to figure out how to get you together. Not to mention, I had a certain little whiny bobcat screeching in my brain because I refused to do things her way. But we’re running out of time here, and it looks like she might be right.” He jerked his head, bringing a hand up to one ear to cover it. “Goddamn it, Destiny. I agreed with you, okay? You don’t have to yell anymore. Let me handle this.”
Gash stared at his friend, unable to comprehend what was happening. Was he losing his mind?
Mason tilted his head like he was listening, and then let out his breath in a rush. “Okay. She’s gone. Thank fuck. I mean, I appreciate her help and everything. I really do. But she can be very, very loud. And bossy. And I never know when it’s safe to, you know… be with a female. Because it’s not like she ever knocks before she just barges into my mind. Shit, I can’t even get comfy enough to give myself a handy-snack. What if I was like, mid-stroke and she decided to pop over unannounced? Awwwwkward.”
G
ash threw his hand up to stop the spewing of words that made no sense.
“Mason, what the hell are you talking about?”
The cougar took a deep breath, hooking his hands around his hips, and staring at the ground. Collecting his thoughts, Gash assumed.
“It’s Destiny,” he muttered. “That bobcat Elder from the Dirt Track Dogs. She’s been in my head, helping me make our clan stronger.”
Gash brushed a palm over his beard, striving for patience. Making the clan stronger was a good thing. He’d been trying to do that himself, but the only solution he’d found was to bring in the bears.
“Stronger how, exactly?”
Mason lifted his gaze. “I’ve been playing matchmaker, helping along these matings around here. Mated shifters are stronger. Instincts are better tuned, and they can heal. It makes sense that we’d be better off, the more of us that mate.”
Gash opened his mouth to argue, but then slammed it shut. Mason had been setting people up? That explained how in five months flat, half of them were already bonded. Some with young on the way. Gash had chalked it up to their animals being ready. And maybe that still had a lot to do with it.
“But now we have pregnant mates to protect. And Rhys. How does this make us stronger?”
Once again, pain flickered over Mason’s expression. “I said the same thing. But… how much harder do you think Renner will fight, if it means keeping his mate and young safe? Or what about Magic? His young is big enough to kick him through Josie’s belly. I saw his face the other day, when he was holding her, and the little guy must’ve roundhouse kicked his hand. His damn face lit up like a fucking sunrise. Never seen boss like that, ever. And I’ve known him for years. How hard do you think he’d fight to keep Josie and that little one safe?”
Gash swallowed hard at the vision Mason’s words created. Except it wasn’t Magic and Josie he saw. It was him and Bailey. Her, with her belly swollen. Him, with his hand curved around it waiting for their baby to move inside. A young born with her copper complexion and curly hair, and his mixed cat. The perfect combination of him and her.
