Wild Thing

by J. Kenner

  She should have known better, of course.

  And so she gathered her things and headed for the front door. She'd go back home and bury herself in her job, finding in her work the comfort she could no longer find in Luc's arms.

  Now, she stopped at the door and scribbled a note, addressing it only to Martin so the gentle old man wouldn't worry. She was just trying to figure out the best place to put it, when the man himself appeared beside her.

  Cate jumped, her heart pounding. "I didn't hear you come up."

  "It is a butler's job to be invisible." He nodded to the suitcase. "You are taking your leave of us, Miss?"

  She nodded, but didn't meet his eyes, afraid that if she did, the tears would start up again. "I need to get back to work. If Luc can't find the time to leave a message for me, I certainly can't find the time to wait indefinitely for him." She winced—she hadn’t intended to show her hurt in front of Luc’s butler.

  He bowed just slightly. "He does have a message for you, Miss Cate. Though it will be a hard one for you to hear."

  "What is it?"

  Martin shook his head. "He wanted to tell you himself, but that's no longer possible. I shall have to speak for him."

  Fear coursed through her veins. "Is he hurt?"

  Martin shook his head. "Let me bring you to him."

  Cate squinted. "Where is he?"

  "Not far, But it's not the where that is important. It's the what." He held out his hand to her. "Come, my dear. I'll explain on the way. About Luc. About your dreams. And about the history of the Duchat name."

  A panther.

  It was impossible, absurd. And yet somehow, deep in her heart, Cate knew that Martin’s story was absolutely true—Luc had transformed into the sleek black panther that now paced the basement cage.

  And as if that weren’t strange enough, the other half of the story was that she alone was the key to controlling his curse.

  Because of her father.

  According to Martin, Luc’s parents had identified the Duchat family as one in which the panther’s spirit was strong. They’d been trying to find Luc’s relatives, and though they never did, they realized that the Duchat line was of the same race. They’d sought the family out, but no one was willing to speak to them. The Duchat’s believed their race was superior, and they took human females against their will, believing it was their right.

  “Luc’s parents never fully uncovered the secrets of Luc’s ancestry,” Martin said, “but they did learn enough to realize that only the males shift. The females remain human, like an anchor to this world. A mechanism, if you will, through which the males can control the change and harness their humanity. You, Cate, have the blood of the cat in you through your father. And for whatever reason, it is your blood—your soul—that is bound to Luc.”

  She didn’t fully understand it, but she believed it, especially now that she was standing by the cage, looking at him, and knowing in her heart that he belonged to her, just as she belonged to him.

  Hesitating just a little, she stepped to the bars, pressing her face against the cool metal. Basements were unusual in New Orleans, and from this vantage point she could see that this was new construction, specially reinforced to survive the boggy terrain. She wanted to ask Luc about it, but the man was nowhere to be seen. The man, but not the cat.

  She stared at the sleek creature, then drew a breath. "Luc?"

  Nothing.

  "Dammit, Luc. Martin told me. He told me everything." She felt like a fool speaking the words, not quite able to get her head around the fact that she really and truly believed it.

  Now, though, she had to see it. Had to see him. "Change, Luc. If you love me even a little, I need you to change."

  That did it. The cat rose from the ground, muscles rippling under its thick coat as it walked toward her, teeth bared. She stayed where she was, her hands clutching the bars, her face pressed into the space between. If the cat lunged now, she was surely dead. But she held her breath. And trusted.

  And then she blinked, not sure her eyes were functioning. But yes, there it was again—a ripple. The cat's body, changing. Shifting and pulling until—

  Luc.

  He crouched naked on the cold concrete floor. "It's true." She whispered the words, then crossed herself.

  "You didn't believe?"

  "I’m not sure," she admitted. "I think I did. But even then, to see it—"

  She drew a breath. "Oh, Luc. Why didn't you tell me?"

  He stood and crossed to her. "Tell you what? That I’m the man you seek? A marauder? The attacker of innocents? The cat who stalks in your dreams? The truth is, I was going to. Because you deserved to know. But then the change came, and..."

  A tear trickled down her cheek, and she didn't try to stop it. He was everything she'd sworn to fight against, but she loved him.

  And, dear God, she could save him. She could end the curse and be the anchor for the man she loved. She was certain of it.

  But to do that, she had to turn her back on his past victims. All those innocents who deserved justice.

  How could she do that, even for love?

  "Oh, Luc." The words were barely a sigh.

  "You must turn me in," he said.

  She shook her head, not willing to accept that. Not yet. There had to be a way. "No. I love you. And I can save you."

  "Yes, but you would resent it. Perhaps not at first, but Cate, I'm the evil you've been stalking. You cannot tie yourself to me, not and live with yourself. It goes against everything you've spent your life doing, all the bad you've overcome. It's not a sacrifice I can ask you to make. Nor one I can accept."

  No. With a sudden clarity she knew what she had to do. She loved him. Even more, for the first time in her life she'd believed in someone other than herself, trusted someone else completely.

  So help her, she still trusted him.

  And she didn't believe that Luc was capable of those attacks, not even when he was in his feline form. "Martin says you can't remember," she said.

  "I don't need to remember. I've seen the blood on my hands afterward."

  "You didn't attack those people, Luc. There's got to be another explanation."

  He just stared at her.

  Damn the man, she wanted to throttle him. "Martin says you have control. That you wouldn't attack, even during the change."

  "Martin is an old fool who loves me. And," he added as he reached out to stroke her cheek, "I believe that you are a fool in love, too."

  "Maybe. But that doesn’t mean we’re not right."

  He made a scoffing noise, but Cate just shook her head, certain that she was right. She held one card, one secret about which Martin had spoken, and she played it now. "He says that Clarissa survived. That you stopped, and that she lived."

  Pain slashed his face. "I almost killed that child," he said, his voice barely a whisper.

  She wanted to wince, wanted to cry, but she steeled herself. "Tell me."

  "It was after my parents' death. I was dining at the home of friends and afterwards we were in the garden. I felt the change, so I made my excuses, determined to reach home and my cage before it happened." He described the scene, his voice passionless, monotone.

  "Inside the house, though, it hit me. More abruptly than I'd expected. My friends' little girl was in the house, and she was all alone, you see. All alone with the beast."

  "And she survived."

  "She did."

  "You did have control."

  “I don't know what caused me to stop, to not finish her. And it doesn't matter. I shouldn't have been in a position to harm her in the first place."

  He licked his lips, met her eyes. "The next day I arranged for the donation of a black panther to the zoo, and began to spread the word that Luc Agassou would be traveling abroad."

  Her eyes brimmed with tears, still unwilling to believe what he told her. "No." She shook her head. "It wasn't you. You didn't hurt those people."

  "Cate. I appreciate the faith,
but it's misplaced."

  "No, it's—" She stopped, something important tickling at the back of her brain.

  And then she knew. Dear Lord, she knew, and she was right, and she could save him. This man that she loved, she could not help control his curse, but she could prove that he was innocent.

  But to do that, she needed his help.

  Days passed, and Luc paced his cage, knowing that Cate was somewhere above, making futile preparations to prove him innocent. He wanted to believe her. Wanted to buy into her eager and enthusiastic protestations that he wasn't killing. That he couldn't be attacking because she'd dreamed of the panther while he'd been locked in the cage.

  One dream, however, wasn't enough to convince him. She seemed to think she'd been seeing through the attacker's eyes, but Luc knew that made no sense. Most likely she was seeing raw images, emotions mixed with dreams.

  But she'd asked if he loved her, and he'd been unable to lie.

  "If you love me, let me try this. Let me try to prove you innocent." She'd smiled that smile he loved so well, and she'd looked at him with dark, professional eyes. "Let me do my job, Luc. And if I'm wrong, I'll leave."

  Even though he knew she was wrong, he had to take the chance. Because he did love her. And, damn him, he wanted her to stay.

  Now they were waiting.

  Waiting for the fickle workings of his curse to send him prowling the streets again.

  Waiting for the change.

  Waiting for—

  He gasped.

  Now.

  His soul rippled, and he drew in a breath.

  It was upon him.

  Soon, Cate would know the truth.

  And just as soon, Luc knew, he would be really, and truly, alone.

  "I don’t know how much assistance I can be, Miss Cate," Martin said.

  "You're doing fine. I'll be doing all the important stuff." She would have preferred he stay behind, but she did need help and, under the circumstances, asking Adam for assistance was simply out of the question.

  At the moment, they were in her car, following a dot blipping on a screen. They'd tagged Luc with a transmitter, and now the wonders of technology helped them track him as he prowled the streets of New Orleans. A great cat, loose in the dead of night. They intended to follow him, and, Cate was certain, the true culprit would appear.

  Luc didn't believe her, of course, but Cate didn't care. She was right. She was certain. And she'd prove Luc's innocence.

  "There," Martin said, pointing to the screen. Cate nodded, then maneuvered the car into a space. "From here we go on foot." She opened the glove box and took out the small pistol she'd prepared earlier. "This is for you," she said. “Just in case."

  Martin looked at it, his face paling. But he nodded and clutched the gun.

  Cate checked her own weapon, then got out of the car, the tracking device in one hand as they walked through the deserted streets near the offices of the Fifth Circuit Court of Appeals.

  “That alley," Martin said, pointing to a service road alongside one of the buildings that surrounded the imperious courtyard.

  They headed in that direction, Cate's gaze cutting across the open area as they walked. The homeless tended to huddle in the dark corners, finding shelter in the nooks and crannies of the deserted plaza that teemed with life only during working hours. Tonight, though, the place was deserted, and Cate couldn't help but wonder if someone—or something—had scared off the squatters.

  As if in answer, a scream ripped the sky, and she raced forward.

  And there he was. A black panther, his muzzle and feet bloody as his teeth and claws ripped at the leg of a man, mercifully passed out on the bloodstained concrete.

  "No!" Her own scream cut through the sky, pure horror pulling the cry from her. The cat turned, ears cocked, copper eyes focused on her.

  The nose flared, and she took a step backwards, the movement foolish, as it only provoked the beast. He lunged, soaring through the sky. She pulled her gun, taking aim, frantic to prevent the claws and teeth from rending her flesh.

  She didn't fire, though, because her target was knocked out of the air by a streak of black. As Cate scrambled backwards, she watched, mesmerized, as the two great cats warred, claws and teeth bared, fur flying.

  "They'll surely kill each other." Martin spoke from behind her, his voice frantic.

  He was right. The two panthers twisted, identical except for the collar on Luc. They rolled and grappled, and the rogue cat sank his teeth into Luc's neck. Luc howled, a bone-deep cry of pain.

  "No!" Cate screamed. Any longer and the rogue would kill Luc. And as she lifted her gun and fired, she could only hope that she didn't kill him herself.

  Luc crossed to the bed, his neck bandaged where the panther had latched on twenty-four hours before.

  He still couldn't believe it. She'd been right. Not only that, Martin had been right. Luc had always had control. He had, in fact, been the only reason that the victims had survived and not been mauled to death by the panther who had attacked them.

  His twin. His very own brother.

  Just as Cate had felt a connection to Luc, Luc had felt a connection to his brother. He'd always been at the maulings because he'd been called there, following in his brother's path. His feline self had been determined to protect the innocent from his twin, who lacked the control taught to Luc by his parents.

  His sibling was gone now. Cate had killed him to save Luc. The police had been called, of course, as well as zoo officials. The terror was over. The culprit caught.

  He slid beneath the sheets, desperate to feel her warmth. "How did you know?" he asked. She'd told him already, of course, but only in bits and pieces.

  Now, though, he wanted to know the full story.

  She curled against him. "I realized that since we were connected, the dreams must fit in somehow. It made sense that I was seeing things through your eyes. That scared me at first, because I thought it meant you were the attacker. But then I realized the truth. If I was seeing with your eyes and I was watching a black panther attack people—"

  "Then I couldn't be the one doing the attacking?"

  "And then I had the dream while you were in the cage, and I knew there had to be another. Someone that you were connected to. And you'd said you had a twin..."

  She trailed off with a shrug. “I'm a cop. I trust my gut, but I also trust the evidence."

  "You were right." He leaned over, capturing her mouth with his. "You believed in me, Cate. Even when I didn't believe in myself."

  "Sometimes it's hard to believe in yourself," she said.

  "I love you, Cate."

  Her smile lit her face. "I love you, too."

  He held her close, just listening to the beat of her heart. "And, you know, I suppose I should also thank you," he said after minutes had ticked away. "You saved me, after all."

  "I'm your mate, remember? That's what I'm supposed to do." She smiled. "Besides, I'd say we saved each other." She stroked his arm, then snuggled closer. "Will you miss it?"

  He didn't have to ask what she meant. There was a freedom in being feline, a different perspective on the world. But no, he would not miss it. Now Cate was his world, and that was all that he wanted.

  "No," he said simply.

  "Good." Her grin turned mischievous. "Because I intend to keep you rather occupied in the bedroom. If you did miss it, I'm afraid you'd be out of luck."

  He affected a look of shock. "Are you suggesting, my dear, that you would use me for your sexual pleasure?"

  "Indeed, I am, Mr. Agassou," she said. And then she slid under the sheet and began to show him in delicious, erotic, magnificent detail, just what exactly that sexual pleasure entailed.

  The End

  Want more?

  Check out JK’s dark urban fantasy romance series, The Blood Lily Chronicles. Grab book one, Tainted, now!

  In the mood for light paranormal romantic comedy? Take a peek at Aphrodite’s Kiss, the first book in JK’s series of s
uperhero romances.

  Want paranormal women’s fiction with humor and heart? Try The Trouble With Demons, an anthology with the first five books in JK’s Demon Hunting Soccer Mom series.

  Keep turning the pages for excerpts and more!

  The Trouble with Demons (a five book anthology Sneak Peek)

  CARPE DEMON, Book 1, Chapter 1

  My name is Kate Connor and I used to be a Demon Hunter.

  I’ve often thought that would be a great pickup line at parties, but with a teenager, a toddler, and a husband, I’m hardly burning up the party circuit. And, of course, the whole demon-hunting thing is one great big gargantuan secret. No one knows. Not my kids, not my husband, and certainly not folks at these imaginary parties where I’m regaling sumptuous hunks with tales from my demon-slaying, vampire-hunting, zombie-killing days.

  Back in the day, I was pretty cool. Now I’m a glorified chauffeur for drill-team practice and Gymboree playdates. Less sex appeal, maybe, but I gotta admit I love it. I wouldn’t trade my family for anything. And after fourteen years of doing the mommy thing, my demon-hunting skills aren’t exactly sharp.

  All of which explains why I didn’t immediately locate and terminate the demon wandering the pet-food aisle of the San Diablo Wal-Mart. Instead, when I caught a whiff of that telltale stench, I naturally assumed it emanated exclusively from the bottom of a particularly cranky two-year-old. My two-year-old, to be exact.

  “Mom! He did it again. What are you feeding him?” That from Alison, my particularly cranky fourteen-year-old. She, at least, didn’t stink.

  “Entrails and goat turds,” I said absently. I sniffed the air again. Surely that was only Timmy I was smelling.

  “Mo-om.” She managed to make the word two syllables. “You don’t have to be gross.”

  “Sorry.” I concentrated on my kids, pushing my suspicions firmly out of my mind. I was being silly. San Diablo had been demon-free for years. That’s why I lived here, after all.