Derrick was back beside her in an instant, human again, his hands on her back. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding anxious. "Did I scare you?"
Kristin was a little disappointed to see he had his pants back on.
"How could you not have told me?" she asked. Blinding fury raged up in her so strong she went to slap him, but at the last second she pulled back and ended up slipping her hand through his hair instead. He caught it and held it.
Derek looked at her with eyes so blue that even in the dark she could still read the heartache that echoed hers. "What was I supposed to say? I barely understood it myself."
Her face crumpled. If he'd told her any of this when she was fifteen, how would she have reacted? Would she still have loved him? She buried her head against his chest as tears pooled in her eyes. Kristin was suddenly very aware that he was naked. Muscles bulged from his chest, crafting deep, hard lines into his abdomen that made his chest look like a map of mountains and valleys.
"I never forgot you," she said, “us, I never forgot us.”
Derrick took a deep breath and inhaled her scent. It wasn't just vanilla, he realized. There were bits of lavender and eucalyptus intertwined throughout. She smelled like heaven. A thin film of sweat broke across his forehead. His heart pounded. He could hear hers pounding too. The moonlight fell across her face and when she tilted her head up Derrick couldn't help himself. He pressed his lips to hers.
As their lips touched, lightning struck them both. At least it felt like lightning. The energy wasn't just perceived, it was palpable. Long tendrils of bright light erupted from Derrick's limbs. They swam towards Kristin, circling her before devouring her in his blaze.
Kristin didn't know if what she saw was real, she only knew her hair was glowing. Her face felt like pure energy. She opened her eyes and it was like seeing the world for the first time. The air was almost visible with color. How had she missed the smell of pine trees and approaching rain that filled her nostrils so fully now? Derrick's own scent was magical. She could almost smell his blood calling to her.
Derrick brushed his lips over hers a second time and the impact was like an asteroid hitting Earth. She grabbed his neck, pulling him to her, needing to make him a part of her. He kissed her harder, the strange light around them pulsing as their hearts throbbed and their breath quickened. The kiss lasted an eternity, but still not long enough. When they parted, the lights faded and the air returned to normal, but there was a lingering buzz that seemed to follow them.
Derrick shook his head, clearing it. "I've heard the stories," he said, "but I thought they were all bullshit."
"Stories?" she asked, breathless. "What are you talking about?"
"Panthers don't often mate with one person. We meet someone, are with them," he looked a little embarrassed, "and then move on. But you... you're my life-mate. That's rare Kristin, really rare. You're my soul mate."
She started to protest, then realized it was just nervous energy making her take exception. In truth, she felt it too.
"Now what?" she asked.
Chapter 6
The locker room was a madhouse. Champagne spilled into glasses, onto the floor, and over Coach's head. Kristin glowed in the corner as Derrick and Tate did some kind of chest bump. Then Derrick turned his head, ran to her, and picked her up in a giant bear hug, swinging her around the room. Her curves felt good under his hands, and when he kissed her a dozen football players—including Coach—made little woooooo noises like second graders.
The team knew about the two of them almost from the start. That night at Palidio's they'd seen them leave together and made a few assumptions. Tate had tried to get the details out of Derrick, but he'd acted like he didn't know what Tate was talking about. Derrick and Kristin had simply thought that, for now, it would be better to keep their relationship between themselves. Especially given the situation with their parents. Of course, the team wasn't about to let a secret this big slip by.
A few days after the merry-go-round, Tate and some of the guys had tried to hook Derrick up with a cheap blonde they "all knew and loved." They'd played her up to Kristin more than Derrick, making sure she knew how beautiful the blonde was and how good in bed. Kristin knew they were baiting her and had successfully ignored it all until the blonde had shown up in the locker room and started trying to give Derrick a lap dance. Then Kristin had gone a little bananas. She'd thrown a drink in the girl's face and called her a name or two that may or may not have been appropriate to the situation. Derrick had pulled her off the blonde and hustled her out of the stadium.
She heard the team laughing as Derrick dragged her off, shouting to each other, "Told ya. Our doc's a wildcat!"
Kristin had never felt so deeply humiliated in her life and was afraid she might even lose her job. Derrick told her not to worry, that it was just the team being a bunch of asshats, but that didn't do anything to stop the jitters that etched their way into her nerves. At the next practice though, all that had happened was that Coach had wagged a finger at her and told her to be careful 'cause football players were all a bunch of "playboy bums," and the rest of the team had started pinning little love letters to Derrick's locker. They'd also stuck a box of chocolate flavored condoms in her medical bag and sent Derrick and her matching lace underwear.
Now, as the team celebrated yet another victory—all the papers called the Peregrines unstoppable—Kristin felt thrilled to be included. Tonight, the Peregrines had really outdone themselves. They were a shoo-in for the playoffs, and Derrick was on the verge of beating Randy Wolfe's record. In two more games Wolfe and Derrick would be pitted against each other for the second time in their careers, and Derrick was certain it would be the game where he set a new world record for rushing yards.
"Celebration tonight!" Tate shouted. The players cheered and Kristin felt the cold rush of champagne spill over her head. She spun around just in time to see Tate run off, leaving her covered in sparkling alcohol, Derrick grinning like an idiot.
"Guess you're one of the guys now."
***
"So, do you want to tell your parents first, or should I tell mine?" Derrick asked the next day when they were alone. He was teasing—sort of. They were having a late lunch at Luigi's and Kristin's spaghetti was growing cold as she and Derrick argued once again about when, exactly, they should say something to their families. He knew perfectly well that she didn't want to tell her parents anything.
"They're gonna freak out."
"So?" he asked. "Let them." She shook her head, tired of this revolving conversation. She knew she couldn't keep their relationship a secret forever, and she didn't want to—she was crazy in love and wanted to shout it from the rooftops—but she also knew this was going to be more than just a little problem for her family.
The back booth at Luigi's was dark and quiet, and Kristin leaned across the table and kissed Derrick, grabbing his hand and rubbing it against her chin. Sparks raced up his spine and he felt the familiar tingle in his stomach as butterflies swarmed. She was trying to distract him, and it was working.
"Nice try," he said. "But you're going first."
"What?" she squealed. "Why should I go first?"
"Because this is all your fault. I got traded to Washington. You chose to be here. I had no control. You did. Hence, you go first."
He smiled and stuffed a forkful of steak into his mouth. Kristin found him infuriating, yet too adorable to stay mad at. “Skewed logic, Derrick.” She ripped a piece of garlic bread off her plate and stuffed it into her mouth.
"There's nothing sexier than angry chewing," Derrick said, and Kristin stuck her tongue out. No matter how stressed she was, he was always able to make her laugh.
A photographer who happened to be dining at Luigi's tonight too spotted them in their corner. A picture of Derrick Wellborn with a cute girl could be worth a lot—the public had an insatiable appetite when it came to Wellborn—but it was worth a lot more if the girl in question was famous.
The photographe
r studied their table for a minute before concluding that this girl was no actress or model. But after closer examination he thought she might be worth more than any of those dime-a-dozen floozies Wellborn was so fond of. The papers had scores of photos of Wellborn and some star or starlet. This wasn't just another two-bit extra the guy was out with. Wellborn was in love. It was written all over his face. The goofy grin... the love-sick glow. He had the look of someone who's girl could do no wrong. The photographer pulled his "off the clock" camera from his pocket and snapped a picture.
Chapter 7
"What were you thinking?" Kristin's mom shouted. Her voice rang in Kristin's ear like a fire alarm, piercing her eardrum.
"Mom, I'm not a child anymore. I date men. I date Derrick. Deal with it."
She heard her father in the background. His voice, usually soft and teacher-like, roared like a bulldozer, "You tell her she is FORBIDDEN to see that boy again. I want her home NOW."
Kristin held the phone away from her ear. Are they crazy? Home now? Like she was still a teenager and they could ground her and lock her in her room?
She wished now that she'd listened to Derrick and told her parents before that stupid picture of them had gotten into the papers. They were going to find out eventually, she'd only prolonged the execution. And not even for very long. Kristin decided to try a new approach.
"Listen. I know about Derrick." There was silence from her parents, and for a second she wondered whether they'd heard her. "I mean... you know... his shifter stuff."
She felt like she was talking to them about sex. It was a strange conversation to be having.
Her parents were silent. "Are you guys there?"
Then her mother started screeching. "What happened? Did he attack you? Did he—did he bite you?"
Kristin laughed. She couldn't help it. She wished Derrick would bite her. Well, maybe not bite, but something. The kissing was great. The touching was great. But it was all very PG rated. Derrick, like most athletes, wouldn't even think of having sex before a big game, let alone during any kind of winning streak. They'd kissed a few times, but mostly just held hands a lot.
"No Mom, he didn't do anything. He just told me the truth, that's all. He had to. He loves me." She paused, waiting for her words to sink in before dropping the big bomb. "And I love him."
She thought she heard her mom start to cry on the other end and considered pointing out that if her parents were really psychic, as they claimed, none of this should come as a surprise. But her mom's wails were too much and Kristin let it drop. Her mom's words came out broken and breathy, "This is exactly what we were always afraid would happen."
Her father grabbed the phone from her mom. "We're flying up."
Kristin heard her parents struggle for the phone and then her mom shouted, "There's no time. We have to tell her now before he kills her."
Kills me? They really were nuts. That didn't stop the hair on her arms from standing up.
"Mom, I'm not going to die," Kristin said, trying to calm them down, but some of her confidence had drained. Derrick would never hurt her. Not in a million years. Still, an image from Old Yeller flashed through her mind...
"Honey, honey," her mom said, finally winning the struggle for the phone. "You don't understand. He's using you. Panther shifters look for mates to reproduce with, then either leave them or kill them when their job is done. They're heartless."
"No," Kristin said, her confidence returning now. "Derrick wouldn't do that. Besides, I'm his life-mate." Both her parents laughed, the kind of laugh that insinuated the ones laughing knew something you didn't.
Her mom must've finally hit speakerphone, because both her parents' voices rang out clear now. "There's no such thing," her father said. "That's nothing more than a legend. A story panther shifters tell their kids at night. It's not true."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"We've been hunting them for years," her mother said. "It's our job to know."
"Hunting?" Kristin thought she'd misunderstood for a second. "You don't mean... like hunting? With bows and arrows and guns and stuff?"
"Well, not exactly bows and arrows. And we use special bullets, plus a few other shifter-specific things, but essentially... yes." Kristin paused. It was her turn to let their words sink in. "Didn't you ever wonder?" her mom asked.
"Wonder about what?" Kristin felt like her brain was melting. Everything she thought she'd known was wrong somehow. Ghosts and ghouls did exist. Boogeymen were real. The fairytales got it right.
"About any of it?" her mom asked in disbelief. "The books, the stakes, the psychic awareness classes... Didn't you ever wonder why we did it all?"
"Be-because you saw that documentary," she mumbled.
"Oh honey."
"We never should have told her that," her father said.
"But you... you don't really kill people. Do you?"
"Not people," her father said. "Shifters."
Kristin's stomach churned. "You know what, I think I need to go."
"You can't trust him," her father said.
"He doesn't care about you," added her mother.
Kristin pleaded with them, "But I love him."
"At least he's not a wolf," her father mumbled.
***
Randy Wolfe logged onto his tablet to send an email and was blasted with the news—yet again— that his record was about to get beaten. His lips curled back. A low snarl rose in his throat. He didn't know why everyone was jumping to that conclusion. There was no way he was going to let that hustler Derrick Wellborn beat him.
His hands shook as he tried to check his email. His fingers were thick and he kept hitting the wrong buttons. "Damn it!" he howled. His second in command ran into the room.
"Alright?" he asked.
Randy glared at him. "If I need you I'll summon you," he yelled. Tom backed out of the room, head lowered. Sometimes Randy hated having a pack to deal with.
He didn't know how just yet, he only knew that it was his new mission in life to stop that poser boy Derrick Wellborn from damaging his record. Another shot of Wellborn scrolled across the screen. A picture of a pretty, curvaceous girl sat next to him. Wellborn was staring deep into her eyes like some stereotypic love-sick puppy. It made Randy sick. He read the caption that went with the picture:
Is football's most eligible bachelor off the market. Doctor Kristin Walker is the new envy of women everywhere as she dines with Derrick Wellborn, who looks smitten.
Randy closed his eyes and took a breath, an idea forming. It wasn't exactly what he had wanted, but it was always good to have a backup plan.
Chapter 8
The locker room was moving. It was always moving before a game. Derrick was the only one who was still. He sat on a bench and reread the email his father had sent.
They're hunters. Stay away from her.
Kristin walked into the locker room and Tate whipped a towel at her. "Sorry," he said, when it snapped in her face, stinging her eyes.
"Tate!" Coach screamed. "You're staying after the game and helping the janitors!" Tate shrugged his shoulders and ran off.
"And what's with you?" Coach yelled at Derrick? "Get it outta your head whatever it is and get in the game!"
Coach walked away shaking his head and mumbling something to himself about wishing he had a cookie.
Kristin went to Derrick, who looked up and smiled automatically. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "What's wrong?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Later," he said, then stood up and gave her a quick peck on the cheek before trotting out to the field.
The game didn't go well. The first quarter was rough. The Peregrines got clobbered. The second quarter was worse. Tate got injured and Kristin had to pop his dislocated shoulder back into place. It wasn't easy, especially with Tate thrashing around trying to get back out on the field. He would be out the rest of the season.
The third quarter picked up a lot. The team was really feeling the loss of Tate, who, despite
his goofball antics in the locker room, was an excellent center and amazing for morale. Seeing him in the locker room at half time with his shoulder bandaged up in a sling, sitting in the corner with his head down like a two-year-old on a time out, the team rallied.
They decided to win one for Tate. Tate looked up and smiled, said "Great," then drooped his head back to the floor. Kristin tried repeatedly to get him to go to the hospital, but he refused to budge.
"What for?" he asked. "You've already done everything." Kristin couldn't argue with that. His shoulder was back in place. His arm was in a sling. She had pain killers if he wanted any.
Fourth quarter they pulled ahead, then fell behind again when Bolero fumbled the ball. He was harder on himself for that than the rest of the team could ever have been. It was Derrick who scored the winning touchdown with only two minutes left in the game. The crowd went wild. It was the closest the Peregrines had come to losing all season, which meant that it was also the sweetest victory.
The team celebrated their near loss in the locker room. "Don't know what you got to be celebrating," Coach shouted. "You guys looked pretty sorry out there tonight if you ask me." But they were too busy popping champagne and planning their victory celebration.
Kristin put her hand on Tate's arm. He brushed it off and sat with his back hunched. "It could be worse," she said. "I once treated a player who broke his femur in about a dozen places. He was a quarterback. Never played ball again. You'll heal. Next season, you'll be fine."
He looked at her with warm, wet eyes. "And what if this is my only chance at the Superbowl? We're going this year. Next year... who knows. I could get traded. I could get sick. This could've been it. And I blew it."
Kristin wished there was more she could do, but it was already December. A dislocated shoulder would need at least 2 weeks to heal, and at least 6 before he could throw again. "There's a slight chance you could be back in it towards the end," she said. It was true, but it was also a long shot.
Bears of Burden: THORN Page 28
