by P. Jameson
She was quiet for a few steps. “Are you?”
“Have I yet?”
Another long silence.
“No. Not exactly. But what was all that back there?”
Eagan climbed the steps to his cabin, jiggling the handle until the door came open and maneuvered them both through the entryway. He turned with her still over his shoulder, and flipped the deadbolt on the door.
There. She couldn’t run now. They’d stay here until he could figure out what to do.
Carefully, he set her on her feet. Immediately, her gaze scanned the area, looking for an out.
“Don’t even think about it,” Eagan warned. He went window to window checking the locks and securing the blinds. “They caught you on camera. Magic decided we needed night patrols until you were found. But I knew you’d come back tonight. You were about to get caught. I had to make it look like we were just fooling around.”
He turned to look at her. She stood stiff as an oak in the middle of his open living/kitchen area. Her hair was wild and messy, hanging low enough to touch her hips. His gaze combed her from head to toe.
Damn, she was beautiful. In the roughest way. An uncut diamond. No makeup, flannel shirt, muddy boots.
She wet her lips, and his eyes settled there.
Those lips. My god, he hadn’t meant for that to be their first kiss, but hell if he’d regret it. She’d tasted sweet as a summer peach. And the way she’d rolled her tongue against his… he burned at the memory.
He took a deep breath and continued. “But Magic recognized you, and I had to change the game a bit.”
“Lie, you mean.”
He lifted one shoulder, looking away. “A little.”
“Are you really a… cat-man.”
Tea. He’d make tea.
He dug in the cabinet for his bags and then set the kettle to boil before he answered her.
“A werecat. A shifter. My animal is a jaguar.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched her. She crossed her arms, uncrossed them, crossed them again.
“But all that stuff you said about mating… that wasn’t real, right?”
He got out two cups, setting them too hard on the counter.
Damn it.
“My turn to ask questions.” He turned to look at her. “What is your name?”
Fuck, this whole ordeal narrowed to a pinpoint of absurdity. He didn’t even know her name. He’d seen her, touched her, fed her, helped her escape, kissed her… but he didn’t even know her goddamn name.
She shifted on her feet. “I shouldn’t tell you.”
“Yes, you fucking should.” Eagan hooked his hands on his hips. “I chose you over my family. The least you can do is tell me your name.”
Her brow furrowed.
“That guy, h-he wasn’t serious, was he? He wouldn’t really kill you over this.”
Eagan rubbed his palm over his jaw, the day’s growth rasping against his skin. “I don’t know,” he murmured. “But one thing’s for sure, I’m out of my clan.”
“Your clan?”
He sighed. “My shifter family. The only family I have. Woman, would you tell me your name already?”
His cat was dying to know. Now that she was here and they were talking, the information seemed crucial.
“Clara.” Her tone was quiet. Barely more than a whisper. “My name is Clara.”
“Clara.” Eagan let his mouth feel the syllables. It was perfect. His heart thumped at the sound of saying it.
The kettle whistled. Eagan pulled it from the stove and set the tea to steeping.
“Sugar?” he asked.
“Yes, please.” That same barely there tone. He didn’t like it. He’d rather her be hissy.
He carried the cups over to the couch. “Sit,” he urged.
Clara looked around his place, but this time he saw the fear in her eyes. She wasn’t looking for an escape, she was uncomfortable.
“What is it?”
“You have so many… things,” she murmured. “It’s stifling.”
Eagan followed her gaze around the room. He was a bachelor. Most of his time was spent working. He didn’t actually have many things. A couch, a bed, some small tables, and a TV/stereo system. That was about it.
“Well, I guess it’s fine you don’t like it. We won’t be here long anyway. We’ll find some place you’re more comfortable.” He gestured with one of the tea cups. “Please. Sit.”
Clara nodded, but bypassed the sofa, crouching low on the floor instead. Eagan opened his mouth to stop her, then thought better of it. He handed her one of the cups and she settled in, crossing her legs yoga style. Taking a spot on the floor next to her, he sipped his tea.
“Didn’t know cats were tea drinkers,” she said, staring into her cup.
Eagan shrugged. “We’re part human.”
She was quiet.
“Why do I get the feeling you already knew about us?”
The corner of her mouth turned up. “I saw one of you turn. In the woods one time. I wasn’t sure though. I thought I was—” She stopped suddenly, as if trying to catch the words before they spilled from her lips.
Her eyes lifted to him, big and vulnerable, before glancing away.
“Crazy. You thought you were seeing things.”
She nodded, finding something interesting on the rug.
“What’s your story, Clara? Why are you alone in these woods, away from your family and friends?”
Gripping the mug like it might jump from her grasp, she took a drink, closing her eyes as she swallowed. He had the urge to reach forward and feel the softness of her cheek. His jag had lapped that up when they were in the kitchen. Her skin was caramel satin dotted with the faintest freckles.
She lowered the cup to her lap and met his gaze. “I doubt you’d understand my reasons.”
“I still want to know them.”
Shaking her head in frustration, she set the tea cup on the floor. “How long are you going to keep me here?”
“I don’t know. How long is it going to take to pry your secrets from you?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Forever.”
“I’ll keep you forever then.”
Yeah, that sounded right. She was his, and what had he done so wrong anyway? He’d hurt his clan, but he could fix it. Let Magic sleep on it, and they’d talk in the morning. He was a male protecting his female. His leader would understand that. He’d explain to Magic that he planned on wooing Clara the way Renner had done Bethany.
And she’d be the only one for him. Ever. That was what he longed for. What Tana had, what Renner had.
Besides, he knew his mate’s heart was tender, had witnessed it through her notebook. He wouldn’t hurt her.
But maybe… maybe he would keep her.
If he was lucky.
Chapter Ten
Eagan rummaged through his dresser drawers until he found his favorite pair of ratty sweatpants. They weren’t pretty, but they sure as hell were comfortable. The material was worn and soft.
And pretty much thread-bare in the ass. Which he was really going to appreciate once his mate was dressed in them.
In the next drawer, he found the faded out Def Leppard shirt. If she didn’t feel comfortable in these, there was no hope for her.
“I told you. I don’t need your clothes. I can sleep perfectly fine in what I have on.” She stood near the bathroom, her head tipped to one side in exasperation.
“You’ll feel better if you’re clean and in something comfortable.” He smirked. “Unless you want to try for total comfort and go naked. I’d be okay with that.”
Clara rolled her eyes, and it was the sexiest thing he’d ever witnessed. “Are you saying I need a bath? You know, just because I live in the woods, doesn’t mean I’m not clean.”
He knew she was clean. She smelled too good. She might be a mountain woman, but she didn’t have mud on her face or black teeth. Well, there was that one time. But he had a feeling that had all been p
art of her ruse.
“You’re clean enough. But a warm shower and something softer than jeans and flannel will help you sleep better.”
She crossed her arms looking defensive. “Why do you care if I sleep? You going to eat me or something. Do cat-men eat people?”
Eagan stepped closer, invading her space. “Do you really think I’d hurt you, Clara?”
She blinked at his nearness.
“I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to. If I was the boogey man you believe me to be, I still wouldn’t. I couldn’t.”
“Why couldn’t you?”
Slowly, carefully, he reached a hand to her cheek. She stiffened, but didn’t pull away. And when his thumb brushed the skin there, she relaxed. His jaguar was so deeply satisfied at her response, he nearly let a purr slip out.
“What I told Magic about you being my mate?”
She nodded, her mouth open on a pant.
“That wasn’t a lie.”
Her eyes went wide, but she still didn’t pull away from his touch. “I don’t know what that means,” she whispered.
“I know. And we won’t talk about it tonight. But just know that I’ll always want to protect you. Never hurt you. You’re safe with me.”
“Safe.”
Eagan nodded.
“I’ve never been safe.”
He frowned at her admission, but then she blinked, turning her face away and breaking whatever spell he’d had on her.
“Fine. I’ll shower and wear your clothes if it’ll make you happy.”
Her lower lip pushed out in a pout as she started to kick off her boots, and he pressed his own lips together so he wouldn’t smile.
“Good. And I’ll wash those so you can have fresh clothes in the morning.”
She tossed him a look that implied washing clothes after one wear was an extravagance she had no tolerance for.
“No need. I have others at my…” She lowered her eyes. “…place. And I can wash these when I go back.”
Eagan ignored the ‘go back’ part. “I’m washing them.”
She raised an eyebrow as she began unbuttoning her shirt. “Fine. You want to waste water, that’s your business.”
But her words were like vapor. They disappeared before they reached his ears, because all his senses were zeroed in on her slender fingers working the buttons from collar to hem.
“What…” Eagan cleared his throat. “What are you doing?”
She frowned. “Giving you my clothes.”
“Right. Carry on then.”
Carelessly, she parted the flaps of her shirt and began shrugging out of it.
“Shit,” Eagan cursed, turning his head. She was completely naked under than shirt. No bra. And the most perfect tits, if he could judge by his half second view of them.
“What?”
He forced his gaze back to her… face. Her face. Not tits. Face. It was scrunched in confusion.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re… you…” He gestured to her topless state, but his eyes roamed and the result was him, speechless.
She was a goddess. Graceful shoulders framed full breasts with dark, perky tips.
Frowning deeper, she tipped her head to the side, her wild hair dancing at her jean clad hip. “Are you the modest type?”
“Uh…” Eagan blew out a breath and rubbed his palm through his hair. “Not exactly.”
“These?” she asked, skeptical, grabbing her twin peaks with both hands and holding them like they were just any old part of her body. “At base, they’re more functional than sexual. They’re basically just feeding bags for when I have a baby.”
Eagan’s eyebrows shot up and he coughed to cover his surprise. “At base.”
She nodded. “Yeah. At their most basic. When you think about the natural way of things, everything becomes really simple. Like early humans. Everything they were made up of had a purpose: to ensure survival. Their strengths, their intelligence. Their bodies and what they did with them. If they killed, they used the whole animal. Nothing was wasted. The same with intangible things like time and love. They lived every minute to the fullest and loved with the most basic of urges. It really makes so much sense if you think about it.”
Functional, not sexual. Yeah, tell his raging hard-on that.
“You… you really think your body isn’t sexual?”
She shrugged one shoulder, hands still cradling her full breasts. “Sure, it’s sexual I guess, somewhat. It can be a little of both if you’re talking about perpetuating the race. But then, still, it’s really just functional isn’t it?”
He stared at her, his eyes sliding to the indention of her waist and her hips that flared wide. Her body was perfect for perpetuating the race, as she put it. His dream of putting a baby into his mate resurfaced. What a thrill it would be to have her with young. His young.
But hell if that was all her body was used for. It was made for so much more. It was made for pleasure. To receive it. To give it. To live it.
A new dream emerged. To have his mate living in pleasure. So sensitive to him and his touch that a mere breath against her skin made her hot. The things he’d do to that body. Completely non-functional things.
His jag purred in agreement.
She dropped her hands, causing her breasts to bounce from the sudden lack of support.
“But if it bothers you, I can shut the door.”
Bother him. Fuck no, it wasn’t bothering him. It was only making him burn below the belt like Satan had him by the balls.
Eagan managed a casual shrug. “Nah. It ain’t bothering me. My cat is just shredding my insides because it wants out for a taste of those hard functional nipples. That’s all.”
She gasped, her eyes going wide.
“Yeah. So, I dunno, maybe hurry it on up before things take a turn for the less functional.”
Quickly, she undid the button of her jeans. “Does it hurt?”
“What?”
“Your… cat.”
Eagan’s chest tightened knowing she was concerned. It was sweet. “Not really. But he usually gets what he wants.”
She hooked her thumbs in her waistband and pushed her jeans to the floor.
Fucking hell.
Fucking functional hell.
“No panties,” he rasped.
She wasn’t wearing any fucking panties. Nothing. Not a single fucking thing on her curvy hips. Eagan’s gaze took her in, not even bothering to fight it this time. Her legs were smooth and luscious, but a wild triangle of hair caught him off guard. Everyone was so well groomed these days, it was almost a shock to see what he assumed was six years worth of hair-down-there. But fuck him… fuck him hard… it was hot.
He brushed his fingers over his lips, grappling for control.
“I quit wearing panties years ago.” She stepped out of her jeans and bent to pick them up.
Eagan blinked. Damn, she was so feral. So wild. He was the shifter. He was supposed to be the wilder one. But no, this female with her outrageous body and her simplistic approach to life… she was the most straightforward, untamed, thing he’d ever encountered. How did a human best him at being feral? And why the hell was that so irresistible?
She handed him her clothes, and it was a damn miracle he was able to take them without grabbing her and pulling her against his body like he so wanted to.
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” she said, starting to close the door. He smacked his palm against it to stop her.
“Take more than a few minutes.” His voice was tight. “I need some time.”
Her brow furrowed in concern. “Okay.”
His breath heaved as the door clicked closed. He stood there, listening as the water kicked on. The cat prowled inside. Mate was so close. Naked with the water rolling over her delectable body.
Eagan spun on his heel, marching through the kitchen area to the washing machine. He tossed Clara’s clothes in and added soap. He’d wait to start it until her shower was finished.
He turned, propping his hands on the edge of the washer, breathing deep. There was no hope his erection was deflating. His pants were so tight he might have to cut them off.
An ironic laugh escaped him. How their forefathers did it was beyond him. How they found any female more desirable than their mate. How they could stomach ever being with another. The way he felt about the female in his shower… they were just beginning, but the bond he felt for her already was the most powerful thing he’d ever experienced.
Maybe Renner was right after all. Maybe it was only a state of mind, and their instincts could be overridden by choice. Maybe you chose who you wanted to be, what kind of love story you wanted to live.
If it was true, if it was a choice… he chose her. Clara. Just Clara. For life.
Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back on his shoulders, a grin curving his lips.
Functional. He’d show her functional.
Chapter Eleven
Clara tried to take her time. She really did. But she had a feeling it wasn’t enough.
Her circumstances weren’t anything she’d ever imagined for herself. Trapped indoors with a paranormal creature. His apparent mate, whatever the hell that entailed. And many years of possible jail time nipping at her heels. The wild part of her kept looking for chances to escape back to her camp. To her skink. To anything that was her own. But the rational side, the thinking, planning, logical side of her knew the truth. That from the moment she’d lost her book to Eagan, her days of freedom were numbered.
All she could do now was ride this out.
And maybe… just maybe she was ready for a change. When she’d taken to the woods so long ago, she’d had no plan. No time limit for how long she planned on being gone. She’d told her sister not to look for her. Maybe she’d listened, maybe she hadn’t. There was no way of knowing. But she’d had her own family to take care of. A husband and two small children.
Clara let herself wonder about them. As a rule, she didn’t think of her past. It wasn’t welcome in her woods. But technically, she wasn’t there anymore.
Esther would be eight now, and Hillary, eleven. Almost a teen. She would have missed so much of their childhood.
Clara closed her eyes, letting the water hit her face and wash away any tears. She wasn’t sure if they were there or not, and she didn’t want to know.
