by RJ Blain
The female was mine. I had driven the black and yellow male off fair and square, and if any wolf thought he could encroach on my territory, I would teach him about my sharp claws by burying them into his hide until he backed away.
My female lurched to her feet, knocking me off her, snarling at the male’s approach. With a snap of her teeth, she lunged at him, driving him back several paces before returning to me. Her fur stood on end, and like the male, she kept her head ducked to protect her throat.
I lurched to my paws, lashing my tail back and forth, my attention focused on the male who had dared to approach my female without my leave. My wolf’s approval warmed me. My cheetah remained quiet, but he, too, paid close attention to the rival male.
My spirit beasts spoke to each other without words, but I recognized my wolf’s questioning and my cheetah’s startled responses. Canine whines and feline warbles echoed in my head until the two came to an agreement.
Then, together, they repeated their edict, and I was too amused by their cooperation to deny them.
Cheetahs didn’t form permanent bonds with females, instead mating with many females to ensure cubs. For my wolf, however, my cheetah would commit to one female, and they both liked the marbled white and black bitch.
If I could keep Idette away, I wanted Andrea, and I was willing to wait a lifetime if necessary, even to the end of mine, if she never accepted me. My spirit beasts ignored me. They both seemed amused by my input in the matter. I huffed. Together, they had saved my life, and while I regretted the decision, I surrendered to their wishes, nipping my female’s shoulder to get her attention. She whipped her head around to face me, and I rubbed my face against hers, marking her with my scent.
I slinked my way around her, rubbing my face against her flank and purring as I breathed in her sweet, spiced cinnamon scent. Memories stirred, but I ignored them. One day, when I relented and returned to my thin-skinned, two-legged form, I would remember. Until then, I would live as a wolf and cheetah, ignoring flimsy, human customs.
The wolves had companions. My wolf recognized the scent of humans, but before I could do more than raise my hackles and hiss, there was a dull thud and prick against my flank.
Numbness spread from my side, up my spine, and flooded my head. I staggered, leaned against my female, and sank to the ground, my breath sighing out of me as my body relaxed despite my desire to fight. My female whined and stood over me. The scent of her fury filled my nose.
I recognized the fog of sedatives, and the unwanted human part of me roused as my spirit beasts slipped into a stupor. Their use of drugs was somewhat comforting; if they wanted me dead, they wouldn’t have wasted money on a tranquilizer.
Time passed in bursts, speeding to a chaotic blur only to crash to a halt. Wolves morphed to people, people who had far too much interest in me for my liking.
When the hazy figures stole my female, I whined. The sound was as much cheetah as it was wolf. I wanted to follow her. I needed to, and while I couldn’t force myself to move, I choked out chirps, desperate for her return.
There were too many males nearby, and one of them was the black and yellow wolf who had harassed her.
Human hands seized my scruff and head, their fingers digging into my fur. A bright light shined in my eyes, and I panted my distress, forcing out a chirp between breaths. The humans gathered around me ignored my cries, and their voices were senseless buzzing in my ears.
I chirped again, and my female didn’t answer.
Time sped by in disconnected, dark blurs broken by flashes of light, the hum of conversation, and the sway of motion. I was aware of calling for my female, aware the intruding humans had stolen her from me.
When I could no longer voice a single cry, I despaired.
I expected the warmth of fur, but when I surfaced from the drug-induced haze, my thin human skin did nothing to ward away the cold. Shivers ran through me as my teeth chattered. When had I shifted from cheetah to human?
I was supposed to be hunting for something, but the memory escaped me.
The cold froze me in place, and my shivers strengthened to full body shudders. Heat radiated from my brow and spread down my cheek, accompanied by a warmth along my neck, which stretched down my back, awakening my nerves. I tensed in anticipation of pain.
“Sean?”
The shock of recognition swept through me, and I sucked in a breath. Andrea was murmuring my name in my ear. The warmth was her skin against mine, and as I fought my confusion, a few other facts came into focus.
While a soft blanket covered me, I was naked, as was Andrea. Nothing separated us, and she pressed her chest against my back. Her arm rested over mine as she stroked the side of her hand against my cheek.
“Relax, Sean. You’re fine. Take a few deep breaths.”
I had no idea how Andrea expected me to obey her; I was keenly aware of her skin soft and smooth against mine. With a little squirm that set my entire body on fire, she snuggled against me, making a pleased noise in her throat. My spirit beasts stirred enough to recognize who was with me before they sank back into slumber, content with the woman keeping me company.
Maybe my wretched beasts were happy with the situation, but I was torn between horror and desire. The sane, logical, and still-married part of me wanted to make a run for it as fast as I could shift to my cheetah form and hightail it out of the area.
Primitive lust, the kind I hadn’t experienced with Idette in almost a decade, washed through me, and I was tempted to roll over and claim the woman I had spent many a lonely night desiring. Andrea shifted against me again, and I shivered at the way her touch heated my blood.
“Andrea?” My voice was hoarse and forcing out her name hurt.
Her soft acknowledgment accompanied the warmth of her breath against my neck. I shivered.
I wanted Andrea, and I couldn’t even blame my spirit beasts for my desire. They slept, unable to influence me. They trusted the woman with me, leaving her to guard me when she needed to be on guard against me.
I closed my eyes and took deep breaths until the urge to roll over faded. Why would the woman who never had a smile for me want me in her bed?
It didn’t matter how much I desired her if she loathed my presence. I wouldn’t lay a single finger on her, no matter how much I wanted to.
“Ramirez was worried you’d give us the slip again, so I was told to keep you in bed by using my feminine charms,” Andrea whispered in my ear. “You’re my reward since you wiped the forest with James’s ass.”
I stiffened at the memory of the black and yellow wolf harassing the marbled female. Scents filled my nose, and my wolf woke enough to help me sort through them. He was amused by my desire, but he ignored the heat in my scent.
Andrea was the wolf the black and yellow male had been stalking.
My wolf’s disgust at my idiocy was the last thing I felt before he retreated, leaving me to deal with the female I had wanted as a wolf and a cheetah. While a hint of my desire remained, anger drowned most of it.
James, Andrea’s cop friend, had wanted to mate with her although she hadn’t wanted him.
“I wanted to kill him,” I growled through clenched teeth.
“He was my Alpha.” Something about Andrea’s tone warned me to tread carefully, but I echoed her displeasure with a soft growl.
“Was?”
“Was. You weren’t the only one pissed at him. Ramirez yanked me out of his pack as soon as you were sedated. You missed her ripping him a new ass over it. She was worried about what you’d if she acted while you were riled up and ready for a fight. Maybe you wanted to kill him, but she almost did. Her mate had to hold her back. As it is, James is sporting a black eye and a broken nose. I thoroughly enjoyed watching her dominate him. He’s a persistent rat bastard, that’s what James is.” Andrea huffed and rested her chin against my shoulder. “He knew I wouldn’t accept him, but with so many witnesses, he thought he’d try.”
I was getting so many mixed signals fro
m the woman my head spun. I had always interpreted her scowls as dislike for me, but could someone who loathed me be comfortable holding me?
I was painfully aware of how her naked breasts pressed against my back.
Hope was a dangerous thing; I closed my eyes and took deep breaths to calm myself. I was missing something in her story, something to explain what had infuriated me about the tan and red wolf’s behavior. “I don’t understand.”
Andrea sighed, making me tremble at the feel of her breath on my neck. Idette had bitten my throat so many times over the years I flinched at the thought of teeth near my skin, but instead of biting, Andrea feathered her lips against me in gentle kisses. “You belong to me. I don’t want that miserable mutt. I picked you, and James hates he can’t have who he wants. He is not a patient wolf. I am, but I’m done with waiting, Mr. Scott.”
I sucked in a breath; the heat present in my scent was strong in hers. The tentative touch of her lips on my throat strengthened, and she scraped her teeth against my skin.
Instead of the expected pain jolting through me, pleasant shivers spread from my throat and every muscle in my body relaxed. She kissed and nipped her way to my jawline, and by the time she reached my cheek, I struggled to stay awake.
Andrea made a pleased sound in her throat. “You’re so sensitive. Get some sleep. We’ll explain everything in the morning. All you need to know right now is that you’re mine, and I’m yours. Everything else can wait.”
Andrea had a flexible definition of morning. The light streaming in through the window convinced me it was daytime. Squinting to focus my eyes made my head ache. The clock on the nightstand informed me it was either eight in the morning or three in the afternoon. Wiggling a bit closer to the clock helped me determine it was three. I groaned and rolled over to discover I wasn’t alone in bed.
Sitting with her back against the headboard, Andrea was focused on her tablet, but at my motion, she glanced in my direction. Her usual scowl was fixed firmly in place.
She wore a button-up shirt that looked suspiciously like one of mine.
“You look like hell.”
Instead of bothering with a coherent sentence, I grunted, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and pulled it over my head. I felt like hell but whining wouldn’t do me any good. I suffered from a mix of hunger and nausea, and my head started pounded in rhythm with my heartbeat. I expected Andrea’s scowl, although I remembered all too well the feel of her lips on my throat and her lithe body wiggling against my back.
Women, I decided, existed to confuse the hell out of me—especially Andrea.
Andrea waited in expectant silence.
“Tell my boss I retired, have decided to take up a career as a hermit, and moved to a tiny island in the middle of the Pacific,” I croaked. Thanks to Idette, I probably didn’t have a career left to retire from, but whining wouldn’t change the fact I had disappeared for at least several months.
I wasn’t sure of the date, and I wasn’t quite ready to ask.
“Your boss is currently in a screaming match with my boss over who gets to have you,” Andrea replied, her tone light with amusement. “The official story is that your wife, who will soon be your ex-wife, learned she was being served with divorce papers and assaulted you while you were out of town for a weekend. The current belief is that you were struck in the head with a rock and left for dead, but were found and taken to a private hospital in New York, where you were diagnosed with amnesia as a result of severe head trauma.”
I stiffened while a list of hundreds of loopholes and problems with the concocted story played through my head. The only bit of truth to Andrea’s proposal was the fact my wife had attacked me. “That won’t stand in court.”
“Bear with me, Mr. Scott,” Andrea murmured. I felt her shift on the bed beside me. “The hospital is a private facility with ties to the Fenerec. Arrangements have already been made to ensure it will stand in court. It’s a formality and nothing more. Should there be a trial, your involvement in it will be limited. A patient with amnesia can’t really answer many questions, now can he? Moving on, unless you have any other protests?”
I recognized a futile effort when I saw it. “Go on.”
“Three weeks after your disappearance, Douglass Roberts escaped during a prisoner transfer, aided by several individuals. Mrs. Scott, with her thorough knowledge of the prison system, numbered among the prime suspects, especially since there were eyewitness accounts claiming someone matching her description was at the scene of the crime. A week later, you were taken from the private hospital during the night. Security cameras picked up several dark-clad figures before the system was knocked out.”
The scenario sounded like something I expected to watch in a thriller. “I’m a hot commodity. Who knew?”
Andrea snorted. “Their motives for taking you alive are still unknown, but Idette Scott, Douglass Roberts, and several accomplices identified as men you had prosecuted were seen in Montana. The trail led to a national park, where you were discovered heavily drugged in serious but stable condition. Douglass Roberts was found, mauled by an animal—likely a mountain lion. The rest escaped and are considered armed and dangerous fugitives. The official word is that you’re recovering from a broken leg—thanks to circumstances, we even have x-rays proving the break—and head trauma at an undisclosed location.”
There were so many holes in the cover-up I didn’t even know where to begin. “No sane jury is going to buy that prosecution, Andrea. What about that other wolf I killed?”
“What about him? We don’t know who he is, nor do we have a way of finding out. We’ve already dealt with the body, so there’s nothing left to do. Anyway, you’re assuming we’re using a sane jury, Sean. We’re not. Idette Scott has broken Inquisition rules, and while there may be a public trial—assuming she lives long enough to face trial—the jury will be very carefully selected to ensure the defense’s failure. It’s not something the Inquisition does often, but considering the circumstances, they thought it was wise.”
I remembered someone mentioning the Inquisition before, likely Marcello, although my memories were a bit of a blur. “Inquisition?”
“Consider it the policing force of Fenerec and the other supernatural.”
“Other supernatural?”
“Witches, mostly, although there are other types.”
Accepting the fact there were other oddities in the world wasn’t too difficult; before I had been attacked by my werewolf wife, I had shifted into a cheetah on a frequent basis. I was in no position to judge anyone. “What, exactly, is a witch?”
“I suppose you’d consider them magic users who align with an element. Fire, water, earth, and air. And no, they don’t wear pointy hats, use cauldrons, or point wands at people to use their powers. You’d have to ask a witch for more details. I’m a Fenerec, like you—although it seems you’re something else, too.” Andrea’s tone put me on edge, and I didn’t know why.
“I guess the cat is out of the bag, isn’t it?”
“All hundred and sixty pounds of him, I’m afraid. You’re a looker as a wolf, Mr. Scott, but you’re something else when you’re a cheetah. What are you?”
Since I was already hidden under the blankets, I burrowed my way under my pillow, too. “Hell if I know.”
“How long have you been able to become a cheetah? It’s been driving us absolutely insane. We had no idea how you gave us the slip. The windows are too small for a Fenerec or a human to get through. As a cheetah? Is that how you got out?”
“That’s how I got out,” I confirmed, dodging her initial question with the hope she’d forget she had asked.
“Why?”
My face heated from a mixture of shame and embarrassment. “I needed a run and to hunt.”
“So instead of asking, you decided to climb out the window?”
“I didn’t know I could ask!”
There was a long moment of silence, and then Andrea sighed. “That’s fair. There’s a lot you don’
t know.”
“No kidding.” At the top of the list was the reason why Andrea had snuggled up to me during the night, her body warming mine. “I support the rock to the head theory. I have a hell of a headache.”
“Painkillers aren’t very effective on Fenerec, but we might have something. Why don’t you get out of bed and get dressed? You’ll feel better after you have something to eat. No daring escapes out the window this time, Mr. Scott. I have you right where I want you.”
“Is that so?” I challenged.
“It is so.”
Some things I couldn’t resist, and Andrea’s close proximity robbed me of my will to resist the urge to say, “I’m going to need my shirt if you want me to get dressed.”
“Is that so?” she murmured, and the husky quality of her voice lured me into peeking out from under the pillow and blanket. Andrea wasn’t smiling, but she wasn’t scowling either, and the way she fiddled with the top button of my shirt stole my breath.
I wanted to rip her out of the silk and find out if she was even half as beautiful as I thought she was. “It is so,” I growled back.
The faintest of smiles curved her lips, and my eyes widened. She slipped out of bed, her gaze locked on mine. Button by button, she opened my shirt to reveal a black lace bra. Her smile slid into a smirk, and she slipped out of my shirt and tossed it on my head. “I suppose I should get dressed, too—in my own clothes.”
I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.
Chapter Sixteen
Andrea’s scent clung to my shirt. While my spirit beasts were still drowsy, both of them had ideas about what I should have been doing instead of getting dressed to face the world.
Even if I wanted to test the waters and find out how interested Andrea was in a more intimate relationship, the pounding in my head worsened with movement until the pain did a better job of dousing my curiosity than a cold shower. While my leg supported my weight, I ached with every step. My churning stomach wasn’t helping matters any, and I considered begging someone to put me out of my misery.
