Table of Contents
Content
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Copyright Information
About the Author
Content
Start Reading
About the Author
Copyright Information
Chapter One
When yet another mile passed with nothing out her windshield but a sunlit, simple two-lane road bordered by an endless sea of grass and trees, Rachel Laversse pulled her car as far to the right as she could and parked. A glance around revealed no traffic. Anywhere. Frowning, she plucked the map she’d printed from the Internet off the passenger seat, withdrew her glasses from her purse, and studied the layout.
Her gaze went from the piece of paper in her hand to the serene landscape spread out before her and back again. She should be there by now.
With a sigh, she set her glasses and the map on the seat next to her and rubbed her burning eyes. Too many worry-filled sleepless nights coupled with the ten-hour drive were adding up to make her beyond weary. Exhaustion was setting in.
Slipping on the pretty sandals she’d shaken off for the drive, Rachel carefully checked her surroundings once again, turned off the engine, and opened the car door.
The humidity hit her first, a gentle wrapping of her senses aided by a soft breeze tinged with the salty flavor of the ocean. A pleasant change from the cloying summer humidity in North Carolina, where she would already be wilting despite the tan lightweight cotton pants and soft green sleeveless top she wore.
With the keys in her hand, she closed the car door and stretched muscles taut and achy from hours of confinement. Leaning against the warm metal, her eyes drifted shut, both for a rest and to better draw in the fresh scents and soothing sounds of the area. She might be far-sighted, only needing her glasses for reading and writing, but her sense of smell, night vision, and hearing surpassed that of most people.
Humans, anyway.
In a strange twist of genetics, she’d inherited her otherness from her maternal grandfather, a leopard shifter. He’d married and sired children with a woman not his mate, resulting in offspring more human than shifter. Rachel’s mother and two uncles were one hundred percent human. Her Aunt Bethany, on the other hand, was a shifter.
As female shifters, Bethany and Rachel possessed heightened senses, extraordinary speed, quick healing, and superior strength. Yet they couldn’t change forms as the males could. No claws, no fangs, no fur. No four legs. Shifting from human to beast was a violent physical transformation, even if done in the blink of an eye. For the females of the species, it was Mother Nature’s way of making sure cubs had the best possible chance of survival.
Those remarkable genetics hiccuped in one area though: Rachel’s need for glasses, a gift from her adorable and fascinating father. From her mother she received an angular face, curly blond hair—currently subdued in a French twist—eyes so green they looked like crushed emeralds, decent-sized breasts, and a barely-there butt.
Thinking of her parents, Rachel sighed again and raised her face toward the sky, taking a deep breath. Then another. Knowing her destination had to be close should have eased the tension in her muscles. Urged her onward and toward the finish line. Instead, a sense of trepidation made her tummy dance with butterflies.
What if Melinda Felix refused her request? Yes, the woman who owned and operated the bed-and-breakfast Rachel was heading toward had been both surprised and thrilled to hear from the niece and daughter of two old friends, but Rachel wouldn’t stay under false pretenses. She’d come clean before pulling one single suitcase from her trunk. If Melinda refused, well, then Rachel would just have to get back into her car and head for Texas.
Her shoulders slumped at the depressing thought. Yet she’d do what needed to be done to stay safe and out of sight. Temporarily, at least. Hopefully no more than a week or two. Just until the police ferreted out her stalker.
Agreeing with the detectives working her case, especially after the last incident, Rachel was taking a long vacation far away from home. Not telling her parents where she was heading had been difficult, but necessary. Nobody knew how the guy harassing her was getting his information on her whereabouts, so zipping her lip was a necessity.
And this “vacation” a last resort.
The second to last? When she’d been turned away from her grandfather’s leopard pack unless she aligned herself with the pack by mating the alpha’s son. Not an option. Rachel had absolutely no desire to tie herself to a boy barely twenty years old, nearly ten years her junior. Unlike his father, Rand Hensen, Brody must have felt the same way as Rachel, because he’d provided her with a list noting three shifter packs with whom she might potentially seek shelter without any life-altering consequences.
A pleasant surprise, actually. As a female shifter, Rachel’s DNA was compatible to a male shifter’s, meaning she would birth sons who could shift. An enticement to unmated males, but not enough of one to young Brody.
Apparently Rachel smelled wrong.
In other words, she wasn’t Brody’s true mate. Males first recognized their mate by an irresistible scent lure, which made them all but salivate to touch and taste. It was a natural enough reaction as shifters were sensual, tactical creatures. Only after physical contact was the mating heat initiated; an intense period of physical and chemical attraction binding two individuals together for life. The downside? The phenomena disregarded emotional connections, or lack thereof. A partner was chosen due to bodily needs and chemical reactions rather than a mind’s logic or a heart’s desire.
Rachel could only thank God Brody wasn’t her mate. Yes, she would have provided him with cubs, but the mating heat would only have been a shadow of that between true mates. Sort of like humans marrying for convenience. Of course, bonding with a true mate you didn’t care about would be a hell of a lot worse, because every time the heat flared up, you’d be a slave to your own physical needs, and for a male that represented only a warm body.
Neither option was for her.
Now, as she stood under the late afternoon sun, a soft and rapid thudding reached her ears. Turning tired eyes toward the sound, she watched as a speck appeared in the distance. That speck grew until it formed into a dark brown horse, the pounding of hoofs gaining in volume as the animal raced over the grass with stunning grace and beauty, and with a speed that made her heart falter.
The one and only time she’d come close to a horse had scared her stupid, and she’d never been near one since. Even seeing the rider leaning over the horse’s neck, his seat seemingly confident, his hair as dark as the animal he straddled burnishing in the sun, did nothing to ease the trepidation.
Then her eyes landed on the man’s face and fear was the last thing on her mind. Actually, nothing was on her mind. At all. Her brain was a complete blank. Possibly even leaking out her ears. Just as drool was no doubt dribbling out of her mouth.
The dark-haired man straightened,
reining in the massive horse. As if controlling the big bruiser of a beast was the easiest thing to do, he tilted his head in her direction and flashed the most engaging grin she’d ever seen.
Her lashes fell. Gorgeous. And somehow familiar. She struggled to remember where she might have seen him, because if she could forget this man, she needed to have her head examined.
Gleaming white teeth dazzled around a pair of lush lips, the bottom a tad fuller than the top. That mouth, combined with the shallow dimples currently framing it, contrasted with the hard line of his chin, the rugged planes of his cheeks, and a wide forehead topped by a crown of thick, dark hair that reached halfway to his shoulders. Those wild strands—tossed attractively either from the ride or a fabulous barber—were a few shades lighter than the deep brown eyes holding a wealth of warm welcome, and just a hint of naughty as they traveled from her own blond mane to the pale pink tips of her toenails and back again.
Jeans encased his long legs, his muscles bunching under the heavily worn material as he held his seat by tightening his thighs. Tan and equally worn cowboy boots rested in the stirrups. A dark blue T-shirt stretched across a wide set of shoulders, leaving his arms bare. When he lifted a gloved hand to stroke the neck of the snorting horse, lean muscle and sinew flowed over strong forearms the color of deep, rich honey.
Then there was the scruff covering his chin and jaw. All in all, he looked like a pirate—or cowboy, given the boots and horse.
Or Joe Manganiello.
Any and all of the above captured her interest and put an electric hum to thread unsteadily through her blood.
Across the distance that separated them, Rachel saw his nostrils flare and his chin drop a fraction as he studied her. An act of a shifter. It made her take a seeking inhalation of her own. Along with the subtle musky fragrance that marked their kind—the undertone pinpointing the species as jaguar—a tinge of amber tickled her senses. A scent she’d always been drawn to.
Then his eyes locked on hers and that naughty glint intensified in male appreciation and sexual interest, turning those brown depths into fathomless pools of rich, dark chocolate. “Well, hello there, darling.”
His voice was a slow, sensual caress that teased along her skin, making her body react in wanton awareness. Yeah, the man was a sexy hunk, but her immediate and carnal reaction was strong enough to yank her from the hypnotic state. Crossing her arms over her middle, she pinched herself.
Yep. She was awake.
“Hello.” A soft and neutral response. Just because the man was one mouthwatering example of the male gender, she didn’t know him. Add in the compelling and thoroughly demented urge to wrap herself around his powerful frame, and suspicion became her new best friend.
His smile widened. “Are you lost, then, or heading to Olivia’s Orchards? I must say I’m hoping for the latter.”
Her eyes narrowed at the wink that accompanied his husky statement. Fabulous. She was in the crosshairs of a charmer. Probably a player as well. No doubt used to women dropping at his feet in a hormonal swoon. She guessed his age to be close to her own. Plenty of time to practice and perfect his persona.
Only it wasn’t a fake persona. She hadn’t scented any deceit or ill intent. Lies always held an underlying hint of decay, which made it nearly impossible for one shifter to lie to another.
Which meant the male sitting astride the restless horse was something to be dreaded. A gorgeous, charming jaguar shifter. A combination that sent her female parts into an ecstatic shiver. And the reason for the dread, because how was a girl supposed to resist that?By remaining vigilant and distant. “Why?”
Another slow and intimate scan. “So that we can become better acquainted.”
Rachel might not be worldly, but she did know when a man was interested in her, and exactly how this one wanted to become better acquainted was crystal clear. His scent magnified until the amber note beckoned her in heady delight. Another hard pinch brought her back to her senses before she could close the gap between them and shove her nose into his lush skin, the sheen of sweat reflected by the sun’s rays only adding to his faultless masculinity.
Another pinch because, hello? Faultless masculinity? She must be more exhausted than she’d thought. “Presumptuous much? Maybe I’m meeting someone for an intimate getaway.”
The saucy grin disappeared and the sexual heat in his eyes turned into something akin to fury. Energy crackled in the air, as if a thunderstorm encompassed the immediate area in the blink of an eye. Raw power, barely contained. The tiny hairs on her arms rose as if she were readying to flee, and her stifled gasp was one of shock.
This man was no beta shifter. The charm and easy flirtation masked a dominant, an alpha with more innate power and at a much younger age than the head of the Greenleaf Pack in North Carolina. If this male represented the Felix Pack, Rachel didn’t know if she should be relieved or scared out of her wits.
His nostrils flared wide once again. “I don’t scent a man on you.”
Temper rose at the possessive statement. Damned if she would be drawn into another scenario where she had to put her body on the line for a little assistance. What happened to chivalry? Saving the damsel in distress? Where had all the cowboys gone?
“That’s because I’m meeting a woman.”
The effect of her statement was priceless. He nearly fell out of the saddle. An evil snicker welled up, but she managed to keep it together. Barely.
“A woman.” His hands tightened on the reins and the horse shifted in agitation. “I don’t know if I’m enticed or disappointed.”
From his stiff posture and clenched jaw—not to mention the single wave of incendiary energy that lashed like a whip across her senses before it was roughly withdrawn—Rachel was going with the belief that this was one unhappy kitty cat.
As an affair was not something she wanted to consider at the moment, despite how her inner feline clawed in greedy demand, Rachel debated whether or not to continue with the subterfuge. Alas, she couldn’t. Not only did she need help from Melinda and her pack, lying was anathema to Rachel.
He’d also be able to smell the lie sooner or later, so why bother? “Hmm. Melinda Felix.”
His shoulders bunched. “Mom?”
Rachel’s expression probably resembled the cowboy’s earlier one. Mom?
Even as Rachel stared from eyes wide in a sort of “oh crap” way, the man’s lips curled in a sheepish grin. “Guess I deserved that.”
Regardless of who he was related to, pouncing like that on unsuspecting females was simply not right. She smothered her own guilt at messing with him. “Yes, you did.”
“I’d like to start over.”
The gleam of amusement in his eyes didn’t bode well, but because of who his mother was, she’d gladly accept the do-over. “Please.”
With the same fluid display of muscles and coordination as his wild brethren, he swung one leg over his mount and landed effortlessly on the grass. Leading the horse, he crossed the road, stripping off one glove. “Hi. I’m Porter Felix and this is Montoya.”
Rachel darted a quick glance at the heavily panting animal before swinging them back and, without thought, taking Porter’s offered hand. The zip she felt at the simple contact winged straight to her toes.
Oh, crap. “Rachel Laversse.” She tried to yank her hand away, to no avail.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Rachel Laversse.” Raising her twitching hand to his mouth, he pressed his lips against her knuckles, and an internal switch flipped on, causing every molecule to uncurl in awareness.
Not looking good, Rach. On the other hand, it may be a case of too good to be true.
Montoya chose that moment to sidestep, the clomp of horseshoes on asphalt severing the unspoken promise of hedonistic pleasures and silken sheets candid in Porter’s hungry gaze.
&nb
sp; Yikes! Unable to take a physical step back since her butt was plastered against the car door, she took a huge mental backward leap, pulling her hand free with a fierce tug while averting her face to stare at the horse chafing at the bit. Literally. “I thought most animals couldn’t tolerate our kind.”
“Our kind?”
Rachel shot him a withering look. “Shifters.”
His bland expression melted into a grin. “Just clarifying.” Montoya leaned into Porter’s touch when he scrubbed the horse’s glistening neck. “It’s not necessarily what we are, but our intentions. Montoya and his barn mates view me as their provider and protector, not as a predator, so they respond to me as such. No matter what form I take.”
Huh. Recalling her one and only disastrous encounter with such a creature, Rachel frowned. “So what might cause a horse to get riled by a kid with no intentions whatsoever?”
His brow lifted. “I take it you were the kid?”
She nodded.
“Could be a multitude of reasons. Wrong horse. Bad mood. Oncoming storm. Anything. Montoya’s extremely perceptive and he’s not reacting negatively in your presence.”
The horse let out a strange sound and threw his snout high. For her part, Rachel arched back as far as she could. “That’s not negative?”
Porter chuckled, the deep throaty sound a physical caress along her senses. “Not to you. He’s young and energetic, and needs a long, hard run.” The animal butted its head against Porter’s shoulder as if reminding him of that interrupted run.
It reminded Rachel of that as well. “Well, then, you should get back to it.”
His eyes snagged hers. “Are you just visiting Mom or will you be staying with us?”
Uh, what? “Us?”
“Olivia’s Orchards? The bed-and-breakfast?”
Did he live there? Staying in the same house with a good-looking, charming man she was attracted to was going to make things difficult. “That, ah, depends on Melinda.”
Haze of Heat Page 1
