by Jenna Kernan
“What will it take for you to go after those things with me?” she asked.
He pressed the gauze to her leg and accidentally brushed her skin again. The hum of sexual energy rolled from her to him and their eyes met. So he wasn’t the only one whose mind was wandering.
“Not now,” she said, pushing his hand away and taking charge of the gauze.
Not now? Well, to his brain that meant later. He smiled.
“So, what will it take? Would they need to kill a human or what?”
“Oh.” His brain snapped back to the newborns of unknown origin. “Yes, they must commit a murder and I have to have irrefutable evidence.”
“I’d like to know who fathered them,” said Bess.
He nodded his agreement to that. “Me, too. But I doubt a DNA test will do anything but frighten the men I work with. I’ve never heard of a Supernatural successfully producing offspring. So it seems likely that they are some kind of Halfling.”
“Halfling?”
Bess went as pale as the marble upon which she perched.
“Yellow eyes,” she said. “Oh, no.”
She swayed and he grasped her shoulders to steady her.
“Easy there.” He pulled her down onto the plush mat on the floor, so she wouldn’t crack her head and leaned her up against the tub. “What’s wrong?”
“I think…”
Bess pressed both hands to her temples. Her skin seemed even paler than a moment ago.
She began again. “I need to know if… I have to know who fathered them.”
He noticed she had twice amended her words. What was it she was unwilling to say aloud?
“I’m afraid we’re too late to interview their mothers.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s it!”
“What? Listen, Bess. I only see their actual death. That’s all. I don’t get to ask questions.”
“But I can, by flying to the Spirit World.”
“You mean you can actually…”
Her slow nod made her seem regal as any regent. “I’ll find the mothers, both of them, and I’ll find out what they know.”
“You’d do that?”
“I need to know what these things are just as badly as you do, and I hope with all my heart that I’m wrong.”
“But your leg.” He hated to point out the obvious, but she’d lost blood.
“Yeah. Bad timing on that, for sure.”
There was a knock on his door. His head whipped around as if someone had discharged a weapon inside his apartment. No one ever knocked on his door. Partly because he kept to himself, but also there was an excellent security system and doorman to insure that strangers didn’t just appear at his threshold. He glanced back at Bess.
“This your guy?”
“Probably.” She stood and brushed a hand over her feather cape. Before his eyes the glossy wrap shifted into a short cocktail dress with a frilly skirt. Her bare feet were now trimmed in high, strappy sandals.
“Wow,” was all he could think to say as he stared appreciatively.
The knock came again, but suddenly he was very sure he did not want to be disturbed. He reached for her and she ducked under his arm, clearing the door, waiting in the hall.
“Answer it.”
He scowled and stalked to the foyer, jerking the door open. There before him stood a man dressed from head to toe in worn denim except for his scuffed brown cowboy boots. He had a pleasant face and long black hair plaited at each side of his head. The braids were wrapped in what appeared to be bear or buffalo hide, crisscrossed with beaded leather cords. His ethnic features, hairstyle and clothing made him look like a poster boy for Native pride.
He grinned affably. Cesar took in the frayed collar of his work shirt and the distinctive brown aura that surrounded him. Another Skinwalker.
“Hello,” said the stranger. “I’m Tuff Jackson. Is Bess here?”
Tracked her like some damn bloodhound. Cesar raised his brows. Maybe he was a bloodhound.
“In here,” called Bess.
Cesar jerked his head in invitation and stepped aside as Tuff entered his foyer. Bess was the only woman he’d ever brought to his place and Tuff was his first guest. He knew he shouldn’t be so protective of his sanctuary, but he still felt as if he were being invaded. He liked his privacy and in the course of one afternoon he suddenly had a regular party of Skinwalkers at his place.
He followed his unwelcome guest into his living room, ignoring the lovely sunset over the bay and the twinkling lights of the bridge spanning the dark water in favor of the woman standing at his bar, pouring a tumbler of Scotch.
“Do we have any pop, Cesar? Tuff doesn’t drink alcohol.”
What’s this we crap? he thought as he stalked to the kitchen and retrieved a can of seltzer from his nearly empty refrigerator. He gave it to Tuff and then retrieved the tumbler Bess extended to him, Scotch on the rocks, just as he liked it. He gave the glass a puzzled look.
“You only have that and beer, so it wasn’t hard to figure,” she said, and then turned to their guest.
Tuff cracked the can, took a long swallow and grinned. “Bubbly.” He wiped his mouth with the back of the hand that held the drink.
Hadn’t he had a seltzer before?
“Thank you for coming so quickly,” said Bess.
He blushed. “I’ve got that old truck, you know. Don’t like to drive much, but it’s faster than walking.”
“How’d you get in?” asked Cesar, the tone of his voice making the question an accusation.
Bess frowned, displeased at either his tone or line of questioning. The Skinwalker was a guest, come at her request into his home. Cesar had so few visitors he had long ago forgotten how to be gracious and this particular guest was both male and enemy. He hardly knew how to act.
If Tuff noticed Cesar’s rudeness he gave no indication for his easy smile never slipped. “Oh, I just came round the back, carrying a five-gallon bucket of compound. The guy at the loading dock let me right in.”
“Where is it?” asked Cesar.
He thumbed over his shoulder. “It’s right outside. You need some?”
Cesar shook his head. He’d never met anyone as guileless and gracious as this guy. It made him suspicious. He wondered what shape he took. Was this the wolf or buffalo? Cesar glanced at the rawhide cord around his neck. Whatever was on that leather thong was hidden beneath his work shirt.
Bess stepped between them. “Tuff, this is Cesar Garza, a Niyanoka.”
Tuff’s eyebrows lifted, but his face remained otherwise impassive. After an awkward pause he turned back to Bess.
“So what happened, Bess? You seemed pretty rattled.” He gave Cesar an appraising look.
Cesar scowled at him from over the rim of his glass, refusing to acknowledge the heat in his face.
Bess proceeded to tell him everything and showed him the bandage on her thigh. She also included her assumptions about the creatures being dangerous. He didn’t point out to her that she had left the world of facts and headed into supposition.
Tuff listened and asked only a few questions. Then he set aside his drink and took a step toward Bess.
“Let’s fix that up.”
Cesar intercepted the guy, planting his palm on the center of Tuff’s chest. Tuff did not respond to the aggressive gesture in kind, but only paused, meeting Cesar’s eyes.
“I only mean to restore her to health.”
That was true. Cesar read it through the connection between his index finger and the skin he touched at the gap of Tuff’s button-down shirt.
“It won’t hurt her.”
Also true. Why could he read other Skinwalkers’ thoughts but not Bess’s?
Bess was tugging at Cesar’s arm now. Her hand brushed his and the shock of her emotion blasted through him. She was embarrassed and aroused, but he couldn’t tell if it was by him or by Tuff. Rage flooded through him. He clenched his fist around worn denim and pulled Tuff forward, or he tried. Tuff blocked his wrist and spun, leaving Ce
sar a choice between letting go or spinning with him. Cesar released his grip.
“Cesar, what is wrong with you?” asked Bess. She had both hands on her hips now.
Tuff kept his gaze on Cesar, placid as ever. Cesar still wanted to punch him, but the rage cooled now that Bess no longer hung on his arm. He wasn’t certain what was happening himself.
“You okay with this?” asked Tuff.
“Or do I have to lock you in your room?” added Bess.
Cesar shoved his hands in his pockets. He should apologize; attacking a guest in his home was unforgivable. But for the moment it took all his slipping self-control to keep his teeth clamped together. He wanted to order Tuff out. Instead he nodded, lowering his chin and glowering at the other male.
“Honestly,” said Bess, giving Cesar a scowl before returning her attention to Tuff. She smiled and shook her head. “Sorry about that. Thank you for your sacrifice.”
Why was she bowing to him? What would he do to her? He took a step toward her again. She lifted one finger and pointed at him.
“Sit down, Cesar. I need this healed or I can’t go.”
He didn’t want her to go, so he took another step. She rounded on him, putting both hands on his chest. Thankfully his shirt kept her from touching skin.
“He’s an old friend.”
“Yeah, I got that.”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
His vision narrowed to Tuff as the blood beat against his eardrums like a hailstorm. “I don’t want him here.”
“Yeah, I got that, too. Nothing subtle about your signals. So go sit down and he’ll be out of here in a few minutes. If you get up off that sofa, I’m going with him.”
Suddenly he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. He wasn’t letting her just walk out of here until he understood what the blazes was happening between them and that might take all night. What was he thinking? He had no claim on her. But somehow, he did—he felt it.
He folded into the sofa. She perched at the edge of the love seat and Tuff knelt at her feet. She lifted her skirt and placed one high-heeled sandal on his coffee table. Then she peeled off the bandage, showing the red scab forming along her smooth skin.
“Not too bad.” Tuff closed his eyes and placed both hands on her thigh.
Cesar left his seat but was stayed again by Bess, who aimed a warning index finger at him again as if he were her pet Pomeranian. His nostrils flared as he sank back to the edge of his seat.
Tuff began to chant, words Cesar hadn’t heard in over a century. His Lakota was pure and without accent, a lilting, rolling song of power and sacrifice.
Cesar glanced at Bess and saw the strain on her face. He followed the direction of her gaze and saw, to his horror, that Tuff’s left leg was now bleeding through his jeans. The blood appeared in the exact place as Bess’s wound. Fingers of uncertainty wriggled down his spine as he realized what was happening. Cesar’s gaze flashed to hers for confirmation and she nodded. Tuff wasn’t so much healing Bess as taking her injury from her. What kind of a man would willingly do such a thing?
His prayer of gratitude ended and his eyes flickered open.
“You lost a lot of blood,” he said.
“I was a ways out when I got hit.”
He nodded. “I can’t replace blood. So you can’t fly very far until you get some nourishment and rest. I’d offer to take you with me, but you know I sleep in that truck.”
Cesar knew he should offer the Skinwalker a bed. He had a guest room and this sofa, but damned if he’d have him in his house a moment longer than necessary. His selfishness seemed to stand in particularly stark contrast to this man’s generosity.
“She stays here,” said Cesar.
Bess made a face that said otherwise. He made a note that she didn’t like being told what to do.
“Or I could drive you back to your place,” said Tuff.
How did he know where Bess lived? Cesar found his rage shooting him off the sofa like a geyser blast. Drive her to her place, his ass. Damned if he let her out of his sight.
Bess looked from one to the other and smiled, seeming pleased at the turmoil she’d brought to his quiet life. He’d spent so much time with the dead that he’d forgotten how the scent of a beautiful woman could affect him.
“I’ll stay here…” said Bess, and then peeled the butterfly bandages from her perfect, unblemished skin.
Cesar’s smug smile died as she completed her sentence.
“…in the city. And maybe tomorrow I can start my journey to the Spirit World.”
“Perhaps. If you eat and rest,” he said.
She rose and Tuff followed. She walked him toward the door. “Is your leg healed already?”
“Yes. That was a small one.”
“What about your pants?”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Got a real pair just like these behind the seat in the cab.”
Cesar trailed behind them, battling his need to defend his territory and this woman. He couldn’t understand it. He was acting much more like an animal than either of these two. Weren’t Niyanoka supposed to be the ones in control of their baser sides? Yet his libido seemed to be roaring like a hungry lion. How long since he’d been so eager for sex? Too damn long and never like this.
Cesar did not like how Bess clung to the man’s arm.
“Can you heal anything?” he asked.
Tuff paused and then lowered his eyes in a show of modesty. “So far.”
“Can you bring someone back from the dead?” Cesar stilled, waiting for his answer, wondering if this man, this half-man could have saved his brother, had he been there.
Tuff met his eyes. “I only repair the body. Once the soul has fled, I can’t call it back.”
Bess looped her arm in Tuff’s as she escorted him to the foyer.
Cesar moved to follow, but she rounded on him. “And you are staying here.”
He wanted to make sure she came back and then he realized the choice was hers. He could not quite keep the growl of frustration from escaping his clamped jaw.
Tuff smile remained placid as he faced Cesar, who stood like a gargoyle at his front door. “Thanks for the seltzer.”
Tuff turned back to Bess, but she did not release the Skinwalker’s arm or show any sign that she made her farewells.
“I’m walking you out,” she said to Tuff, and then turned to Cesar. “See you in a bit.”
He reached for her, but Bess evaded him and stepped into the hall. It surprised him how difficult it was to let her walk away.
Bess walked Tuff to the elevator, her leg feeling perfect, while Tuff limped slightly. She had last seen the buffalo Skinwalker when they had fought Nagi’s ghost army, in the spring, a little over three months ago. She knew he was fearless and selfless, for she had seen him heal the injured from both sides after the battle. He was also gentle and thoughtful. Exactly the sort of man a woman should want. Why then did she feel the sensual pull only from one surly, infuriating Soul Whisperer who was absolutely wrong for her?
“He’s an enemy,” Tuff said, seeming tuned in to her thoughts. “Do you know what you’re doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “Not particularly, no.”
“The guy has a serious thing going for you.”
“I thought you couldn’t read auras.” Bess could see the change in color of her aura and of Cesar’s. They pulsed with the salmon pink of lust and the bright blue of sexual power. But to have Tuff see that embarrassed her greatly. It wasn’t as if she were some teenager with hormones raging. But something sure as hell was raging.
“I can’t. But I can read a male defending his territory and fighting for the rights to a female. And I can smell the pheromones in there and his testosterone.” Tuff thumbed back toward Cesar’s place. “I’m dizzy from the scent.”
Bess flushed.
Tuff’s shoulders sagged with his long sigh. “I’d warn you to be careful, but I see it’s already too late. The man’s in rut.”
“A
Spirit Child can’t go into rut.”
Tuff gave her an incredulous look and hit the elevator button.
“I thought they were above all those base instincts, too.”
“Apparently not,” he said.
“I think he just finds me attractive.”
Tuff gave her a serious look and then slowly shook his head. “He’s a stallion defending a mare. He’s keeping you with him and he’ll kick the ass of any other stallion that comes near you. His door is open right now.”
The prospect of being so coveted both annoyed and titillated.
Bess looked back, seeing only the empty corridor. “How do you know that?”
“Never heard it shut behind us.”
Bess couldn’t keep from smiling.
The elevator doors slid open. “I can take you with me.”
She felt touched by his offer and knew the instant he spoke that she was staying here. She shook her head and he gave a long sigh.
“I’ll camp in the Redwood Forest until you return from your journey. Call me if you have need of me or of a male to challenge that one and bring you safely away.”
“Don’t be silly. He’s not keeping me. I can leave whenever I like.”
Tuff glanced toward Cesar’s door. “I’d kiss you goodbye, but I don’t want to have to kick his ass unless it’s strictly necessary.”
She smiled. “Thank you for all you have done.”
He stepped into the car and nodded. “Walk in beauty.”
The compartment closed and the engine whirred. Bess turned back to find Cesar standing in the middle of the hall, arms akimbo with fists at his hips and his chin lowered as he fixed his stare on her. She cocked her head, wondering if Tuff was right. His expression was predatory and arousing as hell.
Bess hesitated, realizing two things simultaneously. First, she was well enough to leave and, second, she recognized exactly what would happen if she returned to his apartment. She considered escaping now, troubled by the alarming yearning he stirred in her. But, at the same time, she wanted to linger and explore this exciting, arousing male. Was it already too late?
He seemed to sense her indecision, for he stalked forward ready to claim what he already thought was his.
Chapter 4
