by Cathy Clamp
There was a smattering of clapping from the attendees. Dalvin had peeked out during a brief lull; the diners were primarily the European delegates plus most of those he’d identified as alphas among the locals. The Williamses and the crazy owls sat with an old woman and a falcon that he would swear was part parakeet from the way her head bobbed around.
Larissa looked luscious in a skin-tight chocolate silk dress that made her look nearly naked. It was easy to imagine her without those clothes, writhing under him like she had the previous night. She’d kissed the spot where the strip of hide had been taken like it was a boo-boo from the playground and then flat wore him out. She was insatiable.
Liz spoke next. “While we are all digesting our food, several of the town’s residents have offered to entertain you. Please join me now in welcoming Danielle Williams, who will dance for us.”
Okay, that might be worth watching. The others apparently agreed because everyone in the kitchen shifted around until they could see past the barrier.
He’d only seen Danielle from a distance before. All legs, she was dressed in a simple white tunic with a neckpiece similar to ones he’d seen in Egyptian displays in museums. She walked up the few steps to the small stage and sank into a low bow with her head tucked to her knees. The music sounded like it was from the Middle East; he wondered what kind of dance to expect.
Interpretative—not his favorite. There always seemed to be some sort of message that he was supposed to instinctively “get” but never did. The others seemed to enjoy it, though. Suljo especially seemed to like the performance. Or the dancer. Hard to tell. But when it was over, the Bosnian bear whistled and clapped louder than anyone else in the room. So much so that his parents looked over at him with raised brows. Dani smiled at him as she left the stage.
Amber again took the microphone. “Thank you, Dani, for that beautiful performance. Next we have a very talented singer. Please welcome Rachel Washington.”
Dalvin froze with a forkful of fish in the air, next to his mouth. He hadn’t heard Rachel sing in what felt like a lifetime. Would she still have the high, clear soprano he remembered? It probably broke protocol, but he grabbed a vacant chair from a nearby table and sat down, resting his plate on his thigh.
She wore a shimmering black-and-gold top with spaghetti straps that made her dark skin glow. It was cut low enough in the front to hint at the curve of her breasts. Slim black velvet pants looked tailor-made and begged to be peeled off. He still missed her long, wavy hair, which she had often worn in beaded braids, but the shorter hair made her neck look longer, more statuesque.
When the first note of music hit the speaker, he smiled—there was no song that reminded him more of her than this one. For ten years, every time he’d heard it on the radio, he’d thought of her.
The voice that rolled out of her was richer, deeper than he remembered, even more perfect for the tune.
He closed his eyes and let himself be transported back to a simpler time, when he and Rachel used to sit on the edge of the city pier where locals went to try to catch dinner. It wasn’t exactly a bay, but it was at least a dock. They always went at sunrise on Saturday, just so they could sing this song. The fishermen never seemed to mind, and neither did the fish.
When she got to the next verse, about leaving Georgia, he found his voice and joined in. She faltered for a moment, then her voice rose, clear and strong. He sang counterpoint to her lead, soaring through the verses.
As the last notes of the guitar faded away, Dalvin opened his eyes to see the stunned expressions on the faces of the audience, who had gone completely silent. Rachel was blushing to the roots of her hair. Then the whole room burst into wild applause, with Tamir and Alek both clapping Dalvin on the shoulder. He lost sight of Rachel during the commotion.
“Well, looks like we have a Wolven agent with some hidden skills!” Liz said, reclaiming the microphone. That’s going to be a tough act to follow, but Scott Clayton, a skilled magician, will give it a try.”
Scott took the stage, dressed in a dark suit and tie. He had real talent with cards and soon involved the alphas in the tricks. There was a lot of laughter, which was the whole point.
There was an awkward, too-long pause after he left the stage, and Dalvin wondered if there was supposed to be another act. Then Liz wished everyone a good night. The few townspeople in attendance left quickly. Tamir and Alek escorted Rabi, Liz, Amber, and both sloths out, except for Bojan and Suljo. Tamir tried to get them to leave, but they insisted on staying to clean up.
“A chef may only leave the kitchen when the kitchen is closed,” Suljo said firmly, Bojan nodding beside him.
Once the dining hall was empty, Claire turned on all the lights and surveyed the room, hands on her hips. “Wow. What a mess. And we’re out of gloves.” Dalvin realized that so many of the plates had come back clean because the diners had apparently dumped any leftover or half-eaten food on the floor.
Suljo and Bojan came around the barrier and let out what he presumed were swear words in their native languages. “Our families,” Suljo remarked, “are pigs, not bears.”
Bojan shook his head. “No, pigs at least clean their troughs.”
Suljo grabbed an empty trash bag and stuck his hands inside, using the bag as protection as he picked up the discarded food, inching his hands back as it filled. The others watched him quickly clean a whole area without getting a speck of gunk on his hands.
“Clever,” Bojan said, admiration in his scent. He copied Suljo’s actions and tackled another part of the room.
Claire tossed a fresh bag to Dalvin before opening another one with a flourish of her wrist. “I didn’t know you were a singer, Dalvin.”
“I’m not. Not anymore, anyway. I used to sing with Rachel when we were kids. I didn’t even mean to join in. We just used to sing that song all the time. Instinctive, I guess.”
“You’re good. I mean, really good. Like American Idol good.”
He didn’t think so. “Nah. But even if so, I’m Sazi. No fame or fortune for shifters. No public spotlight or paparazzi following us twenty-four/seven, y’know?”
Bojan nodded, but his scent wasn’t happy. “Yes, I am learning that. It is no life for a chef. I hoped to own restaurants, many of them, all across Europe. But now?” He let out a growl from deep in his chest. “No more. I open my restaurant and a bear came to eat. I learn he is a Sazi bear, councilman for all bears. I never hear such a thing. We live in small town—never hear of Sazi for long time. But he is powerful bear. Russian, very strong magic. We cannot resist, so we must obey.”
Suljo sighed. “I know this bear. He is not nice. He tell us we not sell raspberries. We have very fine farm, many years old. We have always sold at market but wish to expand, sell overseas. We are told no, we may not unless we work through Sazi. Feel like criminal sometimes, yes?”
Bojan tossed his nearly full bag into the corner with the others. “Yes, and I wish not to fight or to be criminal. Our countries have been at war for so long. So many want peace to live without fear, without armies and checkpoints and fences. Want to eat fine food and dance to music. But our fathers…” His sigh matched Suljo’s.
It took Suljo a few tries to figure out how to use the drawstring on the trash bag, but once he did, he smiled. “My father is not fighter. He must show strength, but wishes peace. My sister, though … she wants war. For money. Much money in weapons and drugs and scarce food. I would leave but for my father. He is good man.”
Claire picked up all the bags at once. “I’ll toss these. Who wants to do the dishes? The dishwasher is broken, so it’ll be by hand.”
Dalvin grudgingly raised his hand. He was no stranger to working the closing shift in a restaurant. “I’m game if someone shows me where the supplies are.”
Suljo tried to take the bags away from Claire, but she waved off the chivalrous gesture with citrus-scented good humor. “They’re not heavy. I do this every day. Plus, I know where the Dumpsters are and you don’t. But I�
��m sick of dishes after a month of cleaning up after schoolkids while waiting for dishwasher parts.”
Dalvin pushed her toward the door. “Go ahead. I’ve got this. If you make it to the apartments, tell Scott I’ll be late.” Turning, he got a good look at the kitchen and realized the full scope of “the dishes.” “Tell him I’ll be very late.”
CHAPTER 11
Alight snow had fallen overnight, so delicate that even stepping on it made it disappear. Rachel could see her own footprints, like small dinosaur tracks across the white landscape, crossing the smaller prints of a trio of deer and some even smaller mammals … rabbits and squirrels. The clouds overhead threatened more snow and the sun’s light barely filtered through. What she wouldn’t give to fly across the landscape at this time of day, to see all the animals below instead of just smell them.
The air burned when she inhaled deeply, and every sense had come alive in the cold. But she hadn’t worn heavy enough clothes to be comfortable standing still for long, and Dalvin was already an hour late. She’d asked Scott to give Dalvin directions to the start of the racecourse, but maybe she should have knocked on Scott’s door, made sure he was awake. God only knows how long everyone partied after she left the school.
Part of her was sorry she’d bailed on her second song, but she’d been so pissed off at the bear bitch that she was afraid she was going to jump off the stage and get into it with her. That Zara was no better, laughing at the racist comment Larissa had made during the first song.
She’d also been freaked out by Dalvin. When he’d begun to sing, she’d gotten angry—how dare he interrupt! Then she realized he wasn’t trying to steal attention from her. He’d just joined in at the same place he always had back home.
“Home.” It sounded strange out loud. But in a flash she knew—Luna Lake had never really been home. It had always been, in her mind, a way station from somewhere to somewhere else. Nothing more.
“What about home?” Dalvin’s voice, from behind her, made her gasp. The snow cover had made his approach utterly silent.
“I miss it,” she admitted. “I didn’t realize that until you got here. But I miss Detroit.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the same as you remember. Whole place has changed. The bank collapse wasn’t kind.”
She remembered glimpsing stories in the news, but she had deliberately not paid attention, knowing she could never go back. “Is the fountain still there, next to the park?”
He smiled and the expression lit up his whole face. “Yeah, that’s still there. There’s not always water in it, but when there is, it’s the same.” He paused. “Sorry about last night. I didn’t mean to cut in. It was your moment, not mine.”
She shrugged. “It wasn’t really a moment moment. Mo … Asylin asked me to sing, so I did.” She tucked her hands in her pockets, feeling unsure of herself. “Hey, did you tell Scott we were hooked up before I got taken?”
He looked away, smelling of embarrassment and humor. And something … else. “Not in so many words. We were just talking, you know, while I was unpacking. He asked what you used to look like. I told him pigtails and too-big jeans, except that one time.”
She furrowed her brow, trying to think back. It was so hard to remember the time before the snakes. It’s like her whole life until the van was a book she’d read long ago. It didn’t seem real. “What time?”
He smiled again and leaned against the trunk of a pine. “Your cousin Sydney’s wedding, when you were twelve.”
Sydney. Oh, yeah. Skinny, too-tall Sydney, who was no good at basketball for someone his height and too tall for the chairs in the chess club room. He always looked like a giant at a kids’ tea party. “He married Taffy Prince. Yeah, I remember. They still together?”
Dalvin nodded. “Two kids. He’s an engineer for General Electric now. Makes good money.”
Again she tried to peer back through the haze of time. Nothing. “I don’t remember what I wore.”
His face changed, as if he was seeing her in his memories. His look was heated and raw, and made her suddenly uncomfortable. “It was a satin dress the color of a caramel apple. Your mama had done your hair up special in ringlets that framed your face, and your gramma had given you a real cameo necklace to wear.”
In a flash, she remembered. The whole day unfolded as though she was there again. Most important, she remembered why she’d worn that particular dress. “I was trying to impress you.”
“You wanted me to think of you as a girl. I’d insulted you at school—I’m not even sure how—but you were right. I didn’t. I mean, I knew you were a girl, but you were a buddy, like Melvin or Shawn. But that day—” He shook his head, slow. “You were a girl that day. More than a girl, really. You were my girl.”
She felt suddenly overheated despite the cold wind. “I didn’t know that.”
It was his turn to shrug and smell uncomfortable. “I was a stupid kid. I tried to play tough, not let it show. So how would you know? And then you were gone.”
“Sorry.” And she was. Sorry she hadn’t pushed him to say something. Sorry she hadn’t asked him to walk her home that day. “I was a stupid kid too.”
She felt like one again, a stupid kid who didn’t know how to think or act around a man. And really, she didn’t. She didn’t date. Nobody wanted to date the Omega, and the police chief would have killed anyone who touched her. She was his playtoy, nobody else’s. Yet while there was abuse, and it was sort of sexual, there had been no actual sex. Apparently, even Gabriel had limits.
She tried to get past that memory to a better one. “I saw your picture in the paper. With Mama. Thank you for being there for her.”
He looked at the ground for a long moment before meeting her gaze again. He gave a little bow of acknowledgment.
“I’m sorry I was so late this morning. I was up all night. First I washed the dishes after last night’s dinner and then I stayed up talking with Scott. He’s like your best friend, huh?”
She nodded. “But there’s nothing between us.”
Dalvin snorted, the citrus of his laughter making the day feel sunnier than it was. “I imagine not. I’m probably more his type. If I swung that way.”
A small part of her already knew that Scott was gay, but she’d never said it out loud and they never talked about dating. That Dalvin thought the same thing confirmed her opinion and was both a relief and a cause for sadness. There was no hope of Scott finding someone his type in Luna Lake. She wondered about how to talk to him about it …
“Anyway, he told me about your life, at least as much as he knew.” He struggled with what to say. “Saying ‘I’m sorry’ isn’t anywhere near enough. I had no idea. I can’t even wrap my mind around what happened here.”
She didn’t want to talk about that. Maybe someday, but not today. “Can you shift me?”
His brows shot up. “Excuse me?”
She looked at the trees and the lightly falling snow that was landing on her nose and eyelashes.
“I’ve never flown in the daylight, and it’s easier to see the course from above the trees.” She shrugged. “If you can’t, it’s okay. We can walk the route.”
Dalvin nodded. “I can change you. Did you bring extra clothes?”
Extra … “Oh!” She was going to have to undress. She hadn’t brought anything to change into if her clothes were destroyed by shifting. Since she usually only shifted on the moon, she hadn’t thought about that. “Um, no. I didn’t. Just a second.”
She felt weird about getting undressed around other people. She knew being naked wasn’t personal, wasn’t sexual in a Sazi society. But she’d been undressed by force so many times …
“Turn around. Don’t look.”
He gave her a wicked smile—both amused and aroused—that made things inside her turn to liquid.
“I mean it. No peeking.” She twirled her finger in a circle until he turned his back. She found a bush to hide her clothes under so they wouldn’t get wet and ruined. It did
n’t take long to strip and fold her things. When she was down to just her panties, she felt magic pour over her. The sensation pulled a gasp from her throat. She turned to find him inches away, staring at her with a weight in his eyes that made her knees weak.
“No fair,” she managed to pant. “You peeked.”
His chest was bare and his jeans looked too tight. He didn’t say a word, just pulled her into his arms and closed his mouth over hers. Her heart was racing so fast she was sure it was going to burst out of her chest. The feel of her skin on his, her nipples tightening as they rubbed against his hard muscles—it was electrifying, maddening. He ran his hands over her body, so lightly. Almost reverent.
Her traitorous hands began to explore him too, feeling the play of his broad back, the smooth texture of his skin. His hair felt like the softest feather down. His tongue tasted of fresh mint, coffee, and cinnamon, and the sensation as he wound it around hers made a moan slide out of her throat. He reached down and cupped her bottom, pulling her against an impressive erection while he ate at her mouth. Sensations swirled inside her, making her putty in his hands. She was hungry for something that she couldn’t name.
The feeling panicked her. She pulled out of the kiss in a rush. “Dalvin, we can’t. I’ve never—” She shook her head. “Not with anyone.”
He looked dumbstruck. “Oh. Oh. Of course.” He swallowed hard, let go of her, took a couple of steps back, then shifted with fluid ease. His jeans shredded and whatever erection he might have had was suddenly hidden under feathers. Magic flowed over her again, taking her breath away. She felt feathers spill out over her skin in a sensual, tingling rush that felt erotic. Nothing like the way she’d felt when the mayor had shifted her, never mind the little Dani had managed.
She spread her wings tentatively. Everything felt perfect. No pain at all. “Oh my God! Is that what it feels like every time for you?”
