Jacey pictured his human form and shifted. His breathing came faster than normal, and his skin tingled with the winter chill. Invigorating. He hadn’t felt so alive for ages. This move from Australia to New Zealand…he’d come because Henry needed him, but already he liked the town and the people—both shifters and humans—he’d met. Maybe a change was all he needed to cure the intense loneliness assailing him.
“Geoffrey needs to keep quiet in this next spot,” Leo warned. “It’s safe to run, but the sound might carry to the guests at the farm cottages and attract attention. They can’t see this paddock and hill from their cottages but Saber said silence is best to keep curiosity at bay.”
Jacey nodded, and Henry stooped to pat his terrier. A series of growls broke out as Henry communicated with his dog. Jacey shook his head, absently noting he needed a haircut. The pair looked incongruous together—the big silent man and the small white-and-black dog, yet Jacey was pleased the boy had the pet to look after. The changes in his son worried him, and he was glad he’d agreed to move to Middlemarch. With the recession in Australia, business was sluggish. He wasn’t the only person returning to New Zealand to live. Many families wanted a better life for their children. He shook his head and brushed away an errant strand. He wasn’t much different in that respect. Henry mightn’t be his son by blood, but the boy owned his heart.
He missed Henry and Gerard, and it wasn’t as if he had any family left in Perth. Perth had become a habit, a way to keep the memories of his wife alive even though she’d passed when Henry was twelve. It wasn’t healthy to live in the past, so he’d agreed to join the boys in their new security business.
Most of the locals had made him welcome, particularly the Mitchell family. His son had told him they were good men, and so far, his instincts steered him in the same direction. There were a few of the feline population who turned their backs on him. Henry had warned him of this, but it still rankled. The time for wolf-feline wars had passed during the nineteenth century, long before his birth. This was the twenty-first century and inter-species wars had no place unless they wanted humans to learn of their existence.
“It’s a decent acreage of land in which to run,” Jacey said.
“The only thing you can’t do around here is vocalize,” Henry said. “If we want to do that, we must head to the back country near Mt Cook or Tekapo.”
Leo nodded. “Yeah. Saber and the council understand your need to vocalize, but you can’t do it here. Oh, except for Halloween, but Saber said he and the council will discuss that with you soon. They’re having a town function with a haunted house, and Emily suggested wolf song might work nicely to give anyone a scare.”
Jacey glanced at Henry, surprised to see a slight quirk of his lips before it faded. His own mood lightened with relief. Perhaps the old lighthearted Henry still lurked near the surface.
Leo indicated the hillside in front of them with a gesture. “We can run down there, through the manuka trees and that clearing, jump the fence that runs along the ridge and we’ll be on Mitchell land. Who is up for a race?” He shifted and took off without giving them a chance to reply.
Jacey and Henry exchanged another glance. Geoffrey growled and trotted a few steps in the direction in which Leo had departed.
“We can’t let Pretty Boy beat us,” Henry said, and seconds later, they’d shifted and hurtled through the tangle of undergrowth.
Joy spread through Jacey. He lengthened his strides, edging ahead of Henry and gradually reducing Leo’s head start. Huh! Not so old. Life in the old wolf yet.
The urge to vocalize pounded through his brain in a siren song. Jacey ignored it and kept careering toward the trees. He burst from the sunshine into the shadowed trees. Stock traversing the paddock had made a narrow path through the patch of bush, and Jacey charged along the trail, not breaking his pace.
Ahead of him, Leo raced into the clearing. Jacey stormed after him, momentarily blinded by the brighter light. Henry pulled up beside Jacey until they raced neck and neck. Jacey dragged in much needed oxygen. Instead of crisp Otago air, the greenery and soil, he caught a hint of exotic flowers. He slowed, gave a warning bark.
Henry pulled up, and Leo skidded to a halt.
Jacey dragged the air in, working through the layers of scent. Green. Grass. Soil. Tea tree oil from the manuka. Water. Country. All smells he expected. Orange blossom and cinnamon. Chocolate. Those he didn’t expect.
He took a halting two steps forward, something in him wanting to follow the foreign scents. They filled him with sudden yearning and hope, an emotion he hadn’t embraced since Moira died.
Another step and he saw her, along with the camera phone pointing in their direction.
Jacey dropped to his belly, a sharp rumbly growl warning Henry and Leo to do the same. Geoffrey ran past, his attention on a flitting bird. Joy filled his high-pitched bark as he darted after the thrush.
Jacey continued to watch the woman. Bundled up against the cold in a partially buttoned blue coat with what looked like a black vest beneath, a hat and scarf, she sat on her own beneath a tree, a white pad of some sort keeping her backside dry. Hard to see her expression, but something about her posture screamed isolation and sadness. She snapped a couple more photos before setting down her phone and pulling out a chocolate bar. Although several hundred meters separated them, the crackle of foil carried on the air.
Her gaze tracked Geoffrey’s progress across the clearing as she chewed a mouthful of chocolate. Had she not seen them? Her behavior didn’t indicate she’d sighted two wolves and a leopard tearing across the country vista in front of her. Fascinated and yet dreading what this might mean, Jacey continued to stare.
The rumblings from a few of the feline population would increase to a roar if they learned he’d put their lives in danger due to his craving for a run and carelessness. No, not quite true. None of them had acted with lack of care, not that their detractors would see it the same way.
Leo crawled up beside him, his feline expression unhappy. Not surprising. They were out in the open and abrupt movement on their part might attract attention.
The woman turned to the panoramic scene on her left and clicked another photo of the sheep-studded paddock on the neighboring farm, the valley and river in the distance, then she aimed the camera at Geoffrey as he bounced through the patches of grass and leaped over rocks.
Time to move.
He slinked across the ground to the nearest cover, a pile of schist rock. Henry and Leo followed without hesitation. The three shifted and stared at each other in consternation.
“I don’t know where she came from,” Leo said. “There is never anyone here. She must have come from Gilcrest Station. They have cottages for hire, but this is a decent walk from the cottages. Most of the guests come for the fishing or for privacy. They don’t wander through the bush and climb fences into private land.”
Henry folded his arms across his broad chest. “This one did.”
“She didn’t react to our presence,” Leo said. “I don’t know how, but I don’t think she saw us. She noticed Geoffrey, but only because he chased the bird.”
“He saved us,” Jacey said.
“Maybe,” Henry offered. “She still has photos. You saw her. She snapped the photos on automatic, but she didn’t notice them. If she looks at her snaps later and realizes what she has, we’ll be in trouble.”
“You’re right,” Leo agreed in a grim voice. “We must get that phone and delete the photos.”
Despite the dire trouble they’d landed themselves in, Jacey grinned. “How the devil are we going to do that?” He gestured at his body with an elegant hand. “I don’t think she’d appreciate three naked men approaching her.”
“Might cause a problem,” Henry said without cracking a grin.
Jacey’s heart ached for his son, knowing he’d be experiencing the same gut-wrenching loneliness he felt each day. He could tell Henry the isolation eased, but it didn’t go away either. Jacey’s nostrils fla
red as he dragged in a deep breath. The exotic orange blossom and cinnamon filled his senses again. The rich, dark chocolate. He’d bet she was eating a bar of the new chocolate produced by the local manufacturer. No, he wouldn’t mention the sense of isolation to Henry.
Jacey turned to Leo. “Do you recognize her?”
“I’ve never seen her before.”
“So what do we do?” Henry asked.
“We follow her,” Leo said.
“I’ll follow her,” Jacey volunteered. “You said that the logical place for her to stay is in the holiday cottages. Why don’t you two go back to the vehicle and bring my clothes?”
Leo gave a decisive nod. “If she glimpses you, she’s more likely to assume she saw a dog. If she sees me, Saber and the Feline council will get pissed because a sighting might spark rumors of black cats again.”
“You’ll pick me up near the holiday cottages?”
“Yes,” Leo confirmed.
“See you there? Henry, you’re taking Geoffrey?”
“Yeah. I’ll whistle for him once you’re closer to her.”
“Plan,” Jacey said, and seconds later, he sneaked from behind the schist in his wolf form, every sense focused on the orange-blossom woman. Behind him, Henry summoned Geoffrey, had a whispered exchange with Leo before the pair, too, shifted to animal.
Jacey used the available cover, a few longer clumps of grass and smaller schist rocks, to creep closer to the woman. The scent wafting from her filled his senses, filled his thoughts with unexpected ideas of seduction. He wanted a clearer view of her face.
She scanned the panoramic view in front of her, her gaze flitting over him. Jacey dropped and froze in position, praying she hadn’t glimpsed the paleness of his belly and chest. As a youngster, his fur had been a glossy black. These days, a fair amount of white decorated his belly and chest. In his human form, his hair and stubble when he didn’t shave was silver.
His heart pounded, a fraction faster than normal, and he frowned as he absorbed the information. Strange. Something in this human woman pulled at his senses and drew him. Part of the reason he’d volunteered for this job. Curiosity and the urge to regain his balance.
The woman stood and shoved the white pad—a plastic bag—into a pocket. Her coat and winter gear still hid her identity and shape, giving him peekaboo glances of her profile and flashes of blonde hair, but her scent…
Jacey breathed deeply, his wolf and his human part wallowing in orange blossom. Now that less distance separated them, there was an underlying earthiness to her aroma. A familiar wolfish scent. No. That made little sense. Another wolf would have scented them, become aware and likely bristled at their intrusion into her solitary state.
No, the woman was human.
This imaginary mystery scent was a puzzle to fill his mind with business. He liked puzzles.
She walked with her shoulders hunched, her head bowed. She sniffed and dragged a hankie from her pocket.
He couldn’t see what she was doing, but seconds later, she thrust the hankie back into her pocket and hurried along a narrow path that wound through a stand of native bush. Or at least, Henry had told him the trees were native to New Zealand. Their pungent scent made him want to sneeze.
The path turned, and he glimpsed her face as he followed. She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes with an impatient sigh, knuckling away moisture.
The woman was crying. Ah. That accounted for her absently snapping photos. Her mind lay elsewhere, treading in misery.
Sympathy engulfed Jacey. Empathy. He’d wanted to cry for Henry’s loss, for his son’s obvious pain. Without a second thought, he let out a doglike whine.
The woman’s head snapped up, her shoulders tense, even beneath the heavy jacket. She whirled around, and he glimpsed her blotchy face. The woman was older than his first guess, possibly ten or fifteen years younger than him. Blue eyes like his. Blue eyes swamped with unhappiness.
He whined again, trying to making himself smaller and more doglike. A handy skill. He wagged his tail, wriggled his body. Without taking his gaze off her, he inched closer and tried not to scare her.
“Hey, boy.” Her soft voice caressed, even though it held a layer of tears. “Do you belong to the farm or are you lost too?”
Lost? She hadn’t acted as if she were lost. Unless she meant Geoffrey? No matter. Jacey approached her with more confidence and lashed his tongue across the back of her hand before she could move. The quick taste of her skin jolted him to the core. Now that he was closer, her scent with that underlying wolf became more obvious, a mystery he wanted to solve. He licked her hand again, his heart racing with unease, with happiness, with fear.
She laughed, still full of tears, but an improvement.
He sidled even closer, leaning his weight against her legs in a silent invitation for petting. Just as well Henry couldn’t see him. His son would tease his old man. No, scratch that. Maybe he’d confess to Henry to trigger some teasing. An advance on the son who hardly ever smiled and spent his day immersed in unhappy memories. Jacey wriggled against the woman’s hand in encouragement and she ran her hand down his spine.
Every cell in his body stood to attention while his mind did exactly what he’d accused his son of doing—trotted right along memory lane to the moment he’d met Moira. He’d experienced a similar reaction, although they’d both been in wolf form. It had been a jolt to his senses, and he’d known he could have something special if he pursued the woman.
So, he’d pursued and hadn’t regretted his actions for a second. He’d loved Moira and her young son, Henry. The son charming him as much as his mother. He missed Moira every day, and for a time, he’d thought he’d never make it through the pain and yearning for his mate. He’d done it for Henry. As the days passed, he’d mourned and healed. Mostly. A part of his life had gone, and he missed Moira, but he’d had Henry to raise on his own. Sure, there had been women over the years, and he’d enjoyed the company and the sex.
With this woman came possibilities, if he decided to explore the simmering attraction flaring to life in him. Dizzy with considering those possibilities, he licked her hand again. Intoxicating. Magical. Crap, he was turning sappy. His son truly would laugh.
Humor flashed through Jacey. And again, he’d consider confessing to Henry because it’d be worth hearing Henry’s cackle. But first…
If he followed her back to her cabin, he might gain entry in his wolf form. Then, all he’d need to do was wait until she slept, shift, grab the phone and hit delete, then shift back to wolf. Yeah, that might work. No muss. No fuss.
“Do you belong to the farm, fella? Come on. We should both get back to the warmth. Not only is Middlemarch in the back of beyond, but it’s cold too.” She scratched him behind the ears, patted him on the head and set off down a path winding between the trees.
Totally the wrong direction.
Jacey sighed. She was pretty with her blonde hair and blue eyes, the faint dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose giving her a youthful appearance. Her shape was pleasing—what he could see of her beneath the coat. A bad sense of direction wasn’t a great flaw.
He pushed past her and stopped in the middle of the track. He whined and gently shunted her back a step.
“Hey!”
Her voice thrilled him. Rich and throaty, a familiarity tugged at him, yet he was certain they’d never met. He never forgot a scent.
Jerking himself from the sensual trap her voice had spun, he whined and pushed past her again. With a sharp bark, he attempted to tell her she was walking the wrong way.
She stared at him with those big blue eyes. “Are you sure?”
Intelligent. He liked that in a woman. Jacey barked again and led the way, making sure to wag his tail. He had a sexy arse, according to his past lovers. Moira had assured him that even in wolf form that remained true. He heard the echo of Moira’s laughter, tinkling and happy, and he smiled inside, wagging his tail faster.
Just before she’d pas
sed, Moira had made him promise to find someone else to love when the time was right. His memory trotted out the painful scene. He’d promised, of course, but he hadn’t meant the words.
It’s time, Jacob. Henry has grown into a fine adult. It’s time for you now.
Startled by the thought that sounded like Moira speaking to him, he halted. The woman walked into him, tripped somehow. She let out a squeak and scrabbled for balance, her right hand seizing his tail to help her keep her footing. She yanked, and Jacey let out a startled bark. He jerked from the contact and dashed a few steps ahead.
“Oomph!”
Jacey heard the sound then a grunt. He whirled with a growl, and found her sitting on her butt in the middle of the track, her blue eyes wide at his ill-humored snarl.
“Good doggy,” she whispered, her gaze wary, her brows drawn together.
Hell, she thought he intended to bite her. He’d never do that. He eased closer to her, trying to appear smaller and harmless.
“G-good doggy.” She didn’t take her eyes off him as he approached. “Y-you l-look like a wolf.”
Jacey froze, unsure of what to do next. He whimpered and dropped into a submissive position, the leaf-strewn ground cool against his belly. He crawled closer and her fear faded beneath a smile. Her fingers sank into his ruff, and Jacey sighed in pleasure.
“Well,” she said finally. “I should go. My butt is frozen.”
He backed up, missing the physical contact. He wanted to wallow in her scent and presence. Instead, he watched her clamber to her feet and brush off her butt.
The least he could do was get her walking in the right direction. Jacey trotted along the track and turned to bark at her. He moved a few more steps and barked at her in expectation.
She frowned. “Are you sure? I could have sworn I walked this way earlier.”
Jacey barked and wished he could shift and tell the woman she’d end up lost if she insisted on following her sense of direction. She hesitated, and he barked again.
My Plan B (Middlemarch Shifters Book 11) Page 2
