by P. Jameson
Eagan shook his head.
As adept as she was at stealing, she was probably fine. But he had to know for sure. This was the way.
He stirred the chocolate until it was smooth and steaming, and then he poured it into a foam cup. He added a dollop of whipped cream, another sprinkle of cinnamon, and then the lid.
There. Everything was perfect.
He cleaned up the new mess he’d made, jotted a note for his thief, took one last look at his work, and then forced himself out the door.
She’d come tonight. He knew it. The book was too important.
Chapter Six
Sneaking into the lodge this time seemed harder. Not because they’d added anymore security measures. In fact, Clara was pretty sure the cook hadn’t outed her. Leaving this morning had been too easy. Nobody even looked at her twice. She’d managed to find the lost and found without speaking to anybody. She’d just guessed it was behind the front counter and she’d rummaged through it early, when the lady who manned it was getting her coffee.
Her book was nowhere to be found. Which meant the cook kept it. Which meant she had to search the kitchen.
Maybe it seemed harder because this trip to the lodge wasn’t to fulfill her needs. It was to recoup something dear to her. And that she’d risk getting caught just to get it back.
Clara swallowed the bile in her throat as she slinked through the empty hall toward the lobby. The entire inside of the main building was decked out in creepy fake cobwebs, sparkly pumpkins, and haunted house cutouts. By the door was a vampire statue with red blinking lights for eyes.
Halloween was coming. The idea brought a smile to her face. It was always one of her favorite holidays. As a child, she’d loved dressing up in her mom’s homemade costumes. For a few hours she could be someone else. Not a Destacio. Not a rich kid showered in too many expensive things. Not the daughter of a careless alcoholic. But a princess or a witch or Minnie Mouse or whatever her imagination wanted. She could be scary if she wanted, and growl at the kids who made fun of her. Or she could ignore them altogether because it was Halloween and it didn’t matter what ugly thing they said about her. Sometimes she’d even wished she could actually be what she dressed up as. Someone new altogether.
That desire didn’t fade as she grew. And now she was someone else. The Clara Destacio she’d been born as was transformed.
She almost giggled as an image of the old Michael J. Fox movie Teen Wolf flashed through her mind. The imagery wasn’t that far off if you considered the way her legs had looked the day before.
Clara ducked behind the counter to rifle through the lost and found once again, but came up with nothing. She spotted a set of winter gloves. They’d be useful. And it was likely they’d been sitting here waiting to be claimed since last winter. But she couldn’t bring herself to grab them. The guilty sensation she was normally able to push aside niggled at her chest, pressing its ugly face against the window of her soul.
How many things were in that book of hers? How many times had she taken what didn’t belong to her in the name of survival. It wasn’t right. She’d chosen the woods. Chosen to separate herself from society. To live off the land, free of the eyes of people. But who was she kidding? She wasn’t living off the land. She was living off other people, haunting them as surely as a ghost trapped in their attic.
Shame filled her until her cheeks were hot with it.
She shoved the gloves back in the basket, hating that she couldn’t take something she needed, hating that she needed to take them in the first place.
Hating herself.
She clenched her teeth together, willing herself not to cry.
The kitchen. She’d been on her way to check the kitchen. She’d noticed a desk in the corner with note pads and menus. It was obviously where the cook planned his meals. Perhaps he’d left her notebook there, among the others.
Clara went through the dining room this time instead of directly into the kitchen. It was smart to never take the same way in. Change things up.
The room was empty and dark, so she ghosted past the tables and sidled up to the swinging doors that separated the dining area from the kitchen. Her hand caught in a fake cobweb and she jumped at the feel of the sticky strings in her fingers.
When she was free of the decoration, she peeked through the window in the door. The kitchen was empty, with only one row of lights on. She remained watching for several minutes just to make sure, but there was no one else around. Cautiously, she pushed through the door, blinking against the brighter light. Zeroing in on the desk in the corner, she started for it, but her eyes caught on the prep counter and she stalled.
Several containers of food sat tempting her, but what pulled her forward wasn’t the smell of savory beef. It was the scrap of paper sitting next to it. Old, and with pink lines instead of the usual blue. It was from her lost book.
With shaking hands, she reached for it, eyes tumbling over the scrawled words written there.
Write down what you need and I’ll get it for you. But you have to quit stealing from us or I won’t be able to help you.
Clara’s throat burned with the threat of unshed tears. Help her. The cook wanted to help her? She looked at all the food he’d left her. She let the note fall to the counter and wrapped her hands around the foam cup. Whatever was inside was still warm. She lifted the lid, holding the steaming drink to her nose. Hot chocolate. With cinnamon like her abuela used to make.
She choked up. He made her food. She’d stolen from him, stolen from many, and when he’d caught her, he didn’t shun her or turn her in. He made her food. And it was clear he’d read her book. He knew how awful she was. How many things she’d taken. But instead of judgment, this man had chosen kindness.
Her hand went to her chest, pressing against the sharp pain there. It wasn’t the first time someone had extended kindness to her when she didn’t deserve it. And just like the last time, she wanted to run from it.
But she couldn’t. Not until she got her book back. It was the one thing that made her a little less a monster.
On shaking legs, Clara went to the desk for a pen and scribbled her own note on the back of the paper. Then with tears in her eyes, she ate the food he’d prepared for her.
The stew was hearty, the meat tender and the sauce, seasoned perfectly. The biscuits crumbled when she bit into them, the flavor of sharp cheese and garlic singing along her taste buds. It was the best meal she’d eaten in six years, made even better by the kindness behind the gesture. As long as she lived, she’d never forget this. She tucked the dessert in her backpack and carried the remaining hot chocolate out with her.
She walked right out the front door, not caring about the cameras or if her scent, which she hadn’t bothered to hide, gave her away. She was as good as caught anyway. If not by the authorities, then by the compassion shown to her by a perfect stranger she’d done wrong.
This time, it wasn’t her father’s sins she had to account for. It was her own. And the only way to do it, was to let this play out.
Fear was her shadow as she made her way back to the deep woods.
***
Eagan was up before the sun. The benefits of not being able to sleep. He’d tossed in his bed most of the night, his thoughts on the female. When it was finally close enough to sunup, he quickly showered and dressed. Locking up his cabin, he took his four wheeler through the dark and winding roads that separated the lodge from the cats’ homes.
Nobody was up yet, or if they were, they were being as quiet as he was.
In the lobby, he gave Count Dracula a knock on the noggin to wake him up.
“Muuu-ah-ah-ah. Velcome to my castle. Care for a bite?”
“Not today, man,” Eagan breathed in good humor.
His steps took him quickly to the kitchen. As soon as he was through the doors, his nose perked up. He stopped, inhaling deep to imprint the scent. His eyes fell closed and his muscles went limp, his jaguar reacting in a way he’d never experienced before
.
Lavender and the green of the spruce trees. And something else. Woman. Hot, wild woman. His woman. His.
Eagan’s breath rushed in and out of his chest, making his nostrils flare. He stalked forward, eyes on the counter. There was nothing left of the food he’d intended for her and that settled his cat some. But on the counter was the piece of paper from her notebook. He lifted it to his nose, inhaling deep. She’d inadvertently left her scent there. Lotion perhaps. But for sure, she’d skipped the hunting attractant this time.
A sly smile curved his lips. Finally, her scent. He could track her now. And he would. Because she was his.
His mate.
He’d vowed to never search for her. He’d made the pact with his clan like everyone else. But she’d found him, and under the most unlikely circumstances. This was fate.
His grin faded as he lowered the paper.
He could track her… and so could anyone else. Magic for example. Or Gash. Right now, it was fine. Her scent would mingle with the other humans at the lodge, but if she returned… if her scent was discovered where items went missing…
Eagan’s eyes flew across the words she’d left him.
Please, I need my notebook back. If you return it, I swear I’ll never come back here again.
In theory, that was exactly what needed to happen. If she kept coming here, she’d be caught. But reality was a bitch, because Eagan couldn’t let her get lost in the woods, never to be seen again. He couldn’t go sleepless at night wondering if she was okay, if she had what she needed, if she was taking other people’s hard earned things. It was clear she regretted her actions. Was he supposed to let her keep doing them?
He frowned, his heart crashing against his ribcage.
He couldn’t have her. Magic would never allow it. But he needed to be sure she was safe and no longer homeless.
Bailey burst through the doors, and Eagan quickly shoved the note in his pocket.
“Oh, hey. Morning, boss.”
“Morning, Bailey.”
“You’re here early.”
“Yeah. Uh, busy day ahead, you know.” Eagan shrugged off his jacket and reached for his apron.
He was going to deal with his mate later, but for now, he had to go about his duties. Any deviation would catch Magic’s attention. And tonight was the long awaited kick-off of their weekly campfire stories. People would be coming in from the neighboring town of Weston to hear Gash tell spooky tales about the woods. All in preparation for Halloween week when they’d turn those woods into a haunted attraction for their guests. It was a short and sweet celebration, unlike their massive month-long Christmas one, and a much needed break from the preparations for it. Magic said they’d be all out of Christmas spirit if they didn’t have a break. Thus The Haunting at Lake Haven was born.
Eagan loved the way the cats celebrated holidays, but today, he wished he could set it aside.
He inhaled again. One last stroke of her scent before they began cooking, and all traces of her were gone.
Forget creepy campfire stories. He had his own ghost to find.
Chapter Seven
They call her the Woman of the Woods. The Lady of Lake Haven. Wild hair, black as night. Skin, translucent as an angel’s…” Gash spoke in a low, wary tone. He wasn’t animated like you’d expect him to be, telling a group gathered around the blazing fire a ghost story. Which actually made it all the more scarier. Made it seem real. “Or a demon’s,” he said, peering distractedly off into the darkness of the trees.
Eagan leaned against the trunk of an oak and crossed his arms over his chest. The man was good. He’d give him that. The jagged claw mark down Gash’s left cheek made him the perfect person for the job of story teller. But every time he described the woman who supposedly haunted the woods of the lake, Eagan couldn’t help thinking of his thief.
“By way of magic, she can sneak into any house, through any locked door or window.” He lowered his voice to a dead whisper. “Nothing can keep her out. Not an ADT special. Not even the prayers of your great Aunt Susie who’s tight with Jesus, like this.” Gash held up his hand, two fingers crossed, for emphasis. “And when she doesn’t want to be seen, she won’t. And when she does… well, you should watch out, because the lady will be the last thing you ever see.”
Murmurs sifted through the crowd, eyes darting to the dark trees and back to the fire as Gash continued.
“She takes what she wants from you and then, when she has it all, when you have nothing else to offer, when your very existence is the only thing left…” He closed his eyes, his voice going monotone with dread. “She takes your soul. Right to hell with her. Where she keeps it forever and ever.”
Goddamn.
Eagan looked around, hoping the kids didn’t have nightmares tonight.
“Alright,” Magic boomed, clapping his hands together. “We have hot chocolate and cookies, right over there. Help yourselves.”
“But don’t go too close to the woods,” Gash warned, never breaking character.
Eagan watched over the drink and cookie supply in case they needed refilling, barely restraining himself from throwing the cookies at people so they’d leave faster.
Gash came to stand beside him, his eyes trained on Bailey as she served hot chocolate.
“Good story,” Eagan murmured.
Gash smirked. “You like that? It’s a modified version of the truth.”
“What truth?”
Gash stared at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard about the Woman of the Woods.”
Eagan raised an impatient eyebrow.
The cat shook his head, exasperated. “I keep telling Magic, but he won’t listen. She’s haunting the lodge.”
Eagan let out a skeptical chortle. “You believe in all that?”
Gash blinked like he was stupid. “No, asshole, not the soul stealing shit. The Woman in the Woods is a legend. Not of the supernatural variety either. She’s a thief known for being practically invisible. There’s hardly a home or business in the lake area that hasn’t been her victim, but she’s uncatchable. Nobody’s ever seen her. Only felt the fear she instills. Some actually believe she’s a ghost.”
Eagan went cold. Mother of fuck, his woman was a legend. And not the good kind.
“A woman, huh?”
“The only reason the locals believe she’s a woman is because she’s taken beauty supplies and shit. I personally think it’s a couple. A man and a woman.”
Eagan jerked his head. “What makes you think that?”
Did his female have a man? Shit. Fucking shit.
Hellllll no. That would not stand.
Gash shrugged and Eagan struggled not to take him by the throat and wrangle all his secrets from him. “I dunno. Just seems like too much for one person to pull off.”
“But why do you think it’s a man?” Eagan ground out.
Gash frowned, staring at him with narrowed eyes. Then he laughed. “A woman couldn’t go that long without getting caught. No fucking way.”
Eagan caught Bailey’s glare. If Gash kept talking like that, he wouldn’t last long in their clan. There were too many strong females. And too many males that respected them.
He stepped closer to the cat. “I bet a woman gave you that.” Eagan gestured to Gash’s cheek and he stiffened. “Word to the wise, you’ll catch more females if you drop the sexist bullshit.” Eagan tipped his head toward Bailey, and Gash’s shoulders slumped.
Picking up the empty cookie trays, he pushed past Gash and headed for the lodge. He had a meal to prepare.
After considering his options all day, he’d realized he couldn’t just hunt his female down like he wanted. For one, it would probably scare her and send her farther into the woods. For two, it would get his animal amped up and wanting to mate. And that was unacceptable.
He had to think of the pact, of his clan, but he also had to think of her. He’d agreed to the pact because he desperately didn’t want to end up like so many males of their kind. He di
dn’t want to be a cheating asshole. Sure, many of them considered it their right. Mate was important. The most important. If she had needs, it was the male’s duty to fulfill them, to keep her safe and protected, along with any young he gave her. And in return, he was free to bed as many as he wanted.
Many of Eagan’s generation saw the pain this way of living caused, and wanted something different for their future. But Magic was living proof that wanting things to be different doesn’t necessarily override a werecat’s given instinct to prowl. And because of his past and what happened when he’d tried to mate, he watched Bethany even more closely than Renner did. If she ever showed any hint of distress, he’d skin Renner and hang him by his toes from the nearest tree.
Eagan shoved the dirty trays into the wash sink, and gathered the ingredients for his mate’s meal. Dinner for his clan and their guests had been grilled chicken and salmon, which didn’t make for a good reheat, so he was going to make her something fresh. He was practically famous for his pasta concoctions. He’d keep it simple tonight. Alfredo with sun-dried tomatoes and chicken.
He bit his lip.
Did she like white sauce? In his experience, most people liked pasta. And most preferred a cheesy sauce. Maybe his female was the exception though.
Damn it. He knew so little about her.
He shook his head and got to work filling a pasta pot with water and chopping the leftover chicken into thin strips. He functioned like a well-oiled machine. The kitchen was really just an extension of his soul as he poured himself into preparing food that would fill his female’s belly.
When he was plating the dish, his phone rang. He juggled the hot pan and pasta fork back to the counter and then fished his cell phone out of his pocket.
Magic’s number flashed on the screen.
“Yeah,” Eagan answered.
“You busy?”
“Almost done. Why, what’s up?”
Magic’s tone was some weird cross between jovial and furious. “Come to my office. I have something to show you.”
His words set Eagan’s scruff to tingling.
