by Cait Miller
“No,” he answered. “Not yet, let’s see if we can deal with this on our own first.” Jack knew most of them, but not well enough to know if he could trust their restraint around Megan.
Cam nodded, his eyes narrowed on Megan. “Keep her away from me.”
Megan stared after him, bewildered by the exchange, as he turned and walked silently back into the darkness towards the next floor. As his friend disappeared, Jack sighed deeply and his shoulders dropped with the release of tension. He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck and turned to face her. “Stay here while I go get the bags.” With a final squeeze of her hand, he left her standing in the empty hallway waiting in vain for an explanation.
She barely had time to gather her thoughts before he returned and wordlessly led the way to the first floor and into a softly lit bedroom. He dropped the bags on the floor at the foot of the oak four-poster bed and went to the window. Frustrated at his continued silence, she shut the door behind her with more force than was necessary. Not that he seemed to notice as he continued staring out at the dark night with his back to her. It was all it took for Megan to reach the end of her rope.
In the last few days she had gained a crazy American admirer with the persistence of a mosquito and been overtaken with lust for him. Nearly been run over by a car and been terrified by a wild creature in her apartment. Given first aid to a stab wound, been shown her crazy admirer and the wild cat were one and the same. Been held at knifepoint and threatened with rape. Found out someone was trying to kill her then dragged halfway across the country to the house of a man who didn’t want her anywhere near him and no one was telling her why!
A hard tremor shook the length of her body heralding the emotional storm that was bearing down on her. Megan wasn’t a crier. After her parents’ death she had thought she had no more tears left, and she refused to do it in front of Jack. She yanked her nightshirt from her bag. Eyes burning, struggling to rein in her wayward emotions, she flung it on the foot of the bed. There was really no point in crying, after all she was here, she was alive, and so was Jack. What good would it do? With swift angry motions she stripped off her clothes and perched on the edge of the mattress in her peach satin bra and panties.
She was winning the battle when Jack left the window and knelt in front of her, his desire for her evident in his eyes and the reaction of his body. This was why she was here, this enigmatic man who had turned her world upside down and made her abandon the rules and routine she had fallen into. She wanted to berate him for it but it was becoming more than obvious that he was as lost in this situation as she was.
His expression remained somber and when he spoke his voice was tinged with regret. “I’m sorry I got you into this, Megan, but I can’t be sorry that I found you.”
He leaned forward, cupped her face and claimed her mouth with a tenderness that emptied all her concerns from her head. She poured all her feelings into the kiss, sucking gently on his tongue, clutching his shoulders through his dark T-shirt. Arousal rushed through her, stealing her breath and her reason, leaving her panties damp. She moaned as Jack ran callused fingers through her hair, over her shoulders and back, pausing to unhook her bra. He broke away from her lips, murmuring to her and brushing tiny soothing kisses along her jaw. With impatient hands, she pulled his T-shirt over his head leaving his dark hair tousled, and allowed him to urge her back onto the mattress behind her.
She loved the weight of him when he laid his body the length of hers, surrounding her with his musky male scent. God he smells so good. She ran a hand along his jaw, smiling when he rubbed against her like a cat seeking her caress, his dark stubble prickling her palm. Soundlessly he yielded to the pressure of her hand against his shoulder and rolled so that she straddled him. Through the soaked satin of her underwear, she felt the hard bulge of his erection straining against his zipper. She rocked her hips against him, tearing a harsh groan from his lips, and began to explore his broad shoulders and hair-dusted chest.
Her hands were pale against the dusky gold of his skin, and smiling, she traced her finger down from the dip at the base of his throat and along the curve of his pectorals. She raised her eyes to his face, meeting his molten silver gaze as she circled his nipples. They beaded instantly at her touch and she slid down his body and ran the tip of her tongue around each of them. Jack’s mouth twitched in a half smile that promised recompense. Keeping her eyes on his face, she traced the path of dark hair down the center of his hard belly until she reached the waistband of his jeans. He sifted his fingers through her hair and she took his hands in hers and guided them to the bed.
“Let me do this, Jack, please.”
“Megan, you don’t have—”
She interrupted his protest. “I know, I want to. Let me taste you, Jack.” A muscle twitched in the hard line of his jaw and he released his grip allowing her to unbutton his jeans. Megan watched with undisguised fascination as his erection forced the zipper the rest of the way down until his cock sprang free to bob against his abdomen. “You’re beautiful, Jack.” Smiling wickedly, she captured the velvety hard flesh in her hand and stroked him from crown to base slowly. Jack moaned, eyes closed, and lifted his hips into her touch. Circling the base of his shaft she leaned into him and raised her eyes to see him looking at her. Deliberately she licked her lips drawing his attention to her mouth, the expression on his face causing her nipples to tighten painfully. The muscles of her womb clenched in anticipation, releasing a trickle of moisture down the inside of her thigh.
His body trembled with restraint when she ran her lips and tongue around the blunt head of his cock, savoring the salty taste of his flesh and the smooth, hot feel of him. When she investigated the little triangle underneath, a harsh gasp escaped him, his hips thrust helplessly upwards. “Megan, please…”
Stretching her mouth wide to accommodate his girth, she took him in her mouth, taking as much of his length as she was able. Her tongue caressed the vein-ridged flesh on the underside as she withdrew, sucking gently. She repeated the motion, this time using her free hand to stroke and explore his lightly furred sack. Jack was panting now, “Harder…” His hands grasped her head and urged her on, his hips thrusting in tempo with her mouth as he reached blindly for his climax. She could taste the salty-sweet of his pre-come on her tongue, feel the throb and pulse of her own body, and moaned.
“Oh, fuck…Megan…Meg… I’m coming!” he gasped and tried to pull away. She held him firmly, swallowing his seed as it erupted from him, reveling in his harsh groan of completion.
Tenderly Megan kissed the pink scar on his side, marveling at how quickly the wound was healing. At the time she had been sure she was going to watch him bleed to death. She ignored the memories that wanted to distract her and crawled up to rest her head on his chest, listening to the thumping of his heart as it gradually slowed to its normal rhythm. Jack hooked a finger under her chin and tilting her face up to his, he kissed her. “Thank you.”
Effortlessly he turned them so that they both lay on their sides, her bottom nestled against his sex. She rubbed against him feeling the coarseness of his hair against the smooth skin of her back. “Your turn,” he whispered. Turning her head, she kissed him, hissing when he nipped her lip then soothed the small sting with his tongue and kissed his way along her jaw to her neck. Her head tilted instinctively to give him access while his hand roamed over her breasts pausing to torment her nipples into tingling berry-red peaks.
“Have I ever told you I love your breasts? I love the way your nipples darken and bead when you’re turned on…and I love it when all that creamy white skin flushes pink with embarrassment…or arousal.” Jack’s soft words and the touch of his warm breath on her neck made her heart pound and shivers of awareness tingle through her body. His hand slipped lower to the notch of her thighs, petting her dark curls, sliding over the already wet entrance to her body.
Megan whimpered and rocked against his hand then cried out when his fingers circled her clitoris. “Jack!”
“You’re so wet for me, baby, what is it you want? Tell me Meg.” His fingers moved again, tracing gently along her labia, and her inner muscles clenched again in reaction.
“I want you inside me, Jack…please.” Against her bottom she could feel his soft cock and she rocked her bottom into him.
Jack chuckled wryly, “I’m afraid he hasn’t recovered quite yet, honey, but…” He eased two fingers inside her. “I’m sure we’ll think of something else.”
Her inner muscles clasped his fingers as he began to move them, tension already building in her body. His thumb began circling her throbbing clit, she could hear his ragged breathing next to her ear mingling with her own moans. “Come for me, Megan!” He pressed harder with his thumb and a third finger joined the other two, filling her unbearably. Her muscles tightened, tightened until she came in a rush, arching soundlessly into his fingers as pleasure stole her breath.
Little aftershocks continued to pulse through her body as Jack withdrew his hand and wrapped her in his embrace, his cock now semi-hard against her hip. They lay in silence for endless moments, each wrapped in their own thoughts. With a suddenness that startled her, he wrenched himself away, leaving her gasping for breath. Belatedly she registered the furnace-like heat of Jack’s body, far overpowering the natural heat their lovemaking had generated.
He began to scratch, leaving red welts on his golden skin. His gaze seemed to turn inward as he groaned, “No. No. Not now, dammit!” Her heart lurched in her chest at the agonized expression on his face and the harshness of his exclamation. She rose to her knees, reaching for him, desperate to ease the pain somehow but he scrambled away from her. His back slammed against the solid oak headboard in his haste to escape her touch. “NO! Don’t want to hurt you.” His voice had already lost its humanity, the last words almost unintelligible.
The change was no easier to witness than the first time, the tears she had managed to fight back rolled unheeded down her cheeks as she perched helplessly on the edge of the bed. When it was over, he lay panting on his side, exhausted. Megan moved beside him, swiping at the useless tears, before fondling his ears and stroking his face. “Oh Jack, how do you do it? Why? Isn’t there anything you can do to stop it?” He licked her fingers and heaved a huge sigh. Megan smiled sadly and shook her head at the futility of their situation. Lying down on the thick comforter beside him, she sank her fingers into the soft fur on his side and fell into an exhausted slumber.
* * * * *
The vast entryway didn’t look forbidding at all, Megan decided. She paused halfway down the stairs and turned back to admire the beautiful round, stained glass window pouring color onto the landing. It featured an unfamiliar coat of arms, presumably representing the Murray family, and was a detail she had completely missed last night in the darkness. Not to mention the fact that their reluctant host had been standing in front of it and had had all her attention. She turned again to look up to the second floor where she had glimpsed an identical window and wondered what other unexpected surprises the house held.
At the foot of the stairs she caught the faint scent of coffee and followed it towards the back of the house hoping to find Jack somewhere nearby. When she woke there had been no sign of him. If he has left me alone in this house with his bad-tempered friend, there’s going to be hell to pay.
At the end of the hallway she found a large, bright kitchen. The cabinets were a golden-hued pine, the walls tiled in white and the floor in slate. There was a glass conservatory attached to one side allowing soft gray light to fill the room and reflect off of the polished surfaces of a multitude of appliances and gizmos. The conservatory itself held a large pine table and chairs and the windows were lined with well-tended plants. Sitting there to eat would be like sitting outside, Megan thought, only without the rain and bugs.
The door was open, leading onto a patio with what looked like beds of fresh herbs. Further on a wide lawn sloped down towards a bank of pine trees and a blue-gray loch was just visible through them. This was obviously a room someone loved and was equipped to prepare for dinner parties, small or large. Somehow she could not see the man from last night on his hands and knees pruning herbs or spending hours cooking so she assumed he must have staff…somewhere. Ordinarily a room like this charmed her. And it will, she thought, as soon as I get my hands on that coffee.
The machine sat on the counter directly in front of her so she quickly helped herself to a mug from the stand beside it, filling it with the fragrant brew. As she raised the mug to her lips she felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise to attention. Turning quickly, she found herself pinned again by the golden gaze of Cameron Murray. The man was even bigger than she had thought. He towered over her from just a few feet away dressed in faded jeans and an oatmeal-colored knitted sweater. She took a quick step back and was brought up short by the kitchen counter, then immediately berated herself for letting him intimidate her. It’s a tragedy that such a babe should have such a bad attitude. Throat suddenly dry, she croaked out a greeting, “Morning.”
He continued to stare at her in silence, broad chest expanding as he inhaled deeply. A barely perceptible tremor ran through him as he exhaled. Megan watched his pupils expand and was suddenly grateful that she had showered before coming downstairs. It seemed increasingly likely that he was a shapeshifter like Jack and no doubt would have been able to smell the scent of last night’s lovemaking. He lifted his hand and her muscles tensed in anticipation of his touch. He clenched his fist briefly, seeming to fight some internal battle then took the mug of coffee from her fingers instead.
“Jack is a friend so I guess I’m stuck with you for now. You can go wherever you like in the house but stay away from me and keep out of the second floor!” he commanded softly. His eyes flicked briefly towards the conservatory and he turned abruptly and stalked out of the room.
Megan watched him leave, mouth open in astonishment, barely resisting the urge to check and see if she had somehow been transported to the enchanted castle from the Beauty and the Beast fairytale. What the hell have I gotten myself into here?
Following the path of Cameron’s gaze, she was unsurprised to find Jack watching her. What did surprise her, though, was that he was still a cat. A wave of apprehension swept through her. Megan had never seen him transformed for longer than a few hours before and although he hadn’t said how long the changes lasted, something told her this was not normal. The transformation seemed to take so much energy and she recalled how tired he had looked last night. Was it possible he just didn’t have enough strength to shift back again yet? Even as she completed the thought, she dismissed it. The change wasn’t voluntary so how much strength he had wouldn’t really matter, would it? So why was he still standing before her on four legs instead of two?
She looked into Jack’s eyes and what she saw there worried her even more. Fear. It was gone so quickly she might have imagined it, though she knew she had not. As she watched, a shudder rippled through the sleek body and he started towards the door.
“Wait, Jack!” He turned back towards her as she approached. His body still poised for flight, even as another tremor shook him. “It’s happening, isn’t it? Please, don’t leave. I know I can’t be much help, but I want to stay with you.” She placed her hand on his powerful shoulders and felt the heat that was becoming so familiar radiating through his thick fur. After a moment, he took a few steps away from her and laid down.
Again the transformation lasted only a few agonizing minutes, but to Megan it seemed like hours as she knelt on the cold tiles watching with silent empathy. When it was over, she crawled to his side. His whole body was trembling with exhaustion and his eyes were dull with the remnants of pain. He lifted one hand and cupped her face. “Just once, I would really like to wake up in a bed with you,” he whispered hoarsely.
She laughed half-heartedly. “You aren’t missing much. I’m really not a morning person.”
Jack’s hand fell back to his side and his eyes closed,
a small grin tugged at one side of his mouth. “Bet I could change your mind,” he mumbled. She felt color suffuse her cheeks at his words and smiled at the reaction, after the last few days she had no reason to blush. She brushed her fingers over his silky hair and listened with surprise to his deep rumbling purr. The skin under his eyes was even more bruised by fatigue and his cheekbones stood out in sharp relief. He climbed stiffly to his feet and tugged her up along with him. Everything about his appearance said all was not well in Jack’s world. Though he had said that shapeshifting was normal and natural for him, Megan was becoming more certain that there was something else he had not told her.
“I’m going to take a shower.” He bent and kissed her, just a soft brush of his lips. And, she silently admitted to herself as she watched him walk away, she had fallen in love with the man.
Drawn back to the garden, she poured herself another coffee and perched on the low brick wall surrounding the patio. I still can’t believe that…swine! Stole my coffee! Megan pushed the thought away and simply enjoyed the unpolluted highland air. Though the granite wall and the stones of the patio were dry, the air smelled damp, suggesting rain wasn’t far away and the cloudy, gray, late morning sky was beginning to darken with the promise of it. She marveled over the changes the last few days had wrought on her life. Jack Douglass had swept through it like a charming wrecking ball.
It was a little tough to take, and still that little voice in the back of her mind said it wasn’t over yet. She had all but turned her brain inside out searching for some reason why anyone would want her dead and come up with nothing. Cameron Murray, unpleasant though he was, apparently had resources which would help them find out. As well as a safe haven for them.
It grated on her independent nature to turn the reins over to someone else but there seemed to be little else she could do at the moment but wait. Part of her hoped that Jack and his friend would quickly find out who was after them so that she could go back to her nice, normal—safe—life and pretend none of this had happened. But that would probably mean never seeing Jack again and that was unthinkable. How was it possible to come to need someone so much in such a short time?
