by Kyle, Celia
Had she been…?
Her cat snarled in objection, the animal rushing forward for the first time since she’d awoken. No, the panther would know.
Wouldn’t it?
She hoped so.
Ignoring those swaths of darkened flesh, she resumed washing herself. She scoured her body, with jerky, efficient movements until she was squeaky clean. It took no time to wash her hair, lathering up the strands in seconds.
Millie stepped beneath the spray and let the full heat of the water rain on her. She sighed as it seeped into her bones and relaxed her. So good. So hot.
“Hmm…” she hummed.
“That sounds delicious.” The deep baritone echoed in the room, bouncing off the tile walls and pinging against her nerves.
A scream burst past her lips before she could stop it. In the back of her mind, she recognized the owner of the voice, but that didn’t stop her from reacting. Immediately the ball of rage responded to her fear as the panther rushed forward, ready to protect her. The feelings of both parts of her converging at once had her falling to her knees. She couldn’t hold herself up, not when the two of them worked together.
And, oh God, she was going to kill him—they were going to kill him—all before she had a chance to regret sending him away.
Millie waited for the screams, the yells, or roars that always accompanied what she gifted on people. When she killed Alistair’s man, even when she’d knocked out Harding all those months ago, it’d been lightning-fast. Now, with strength came a longer, harsher attack; one that could last minutes instead of less than a second.
Instead… instead, he grunted and nothing more. Just a quick, low sound followed by… silence. There was no falling and the telltale thump of his body colliding with the tiled floor. Nope. A grunt.
Millie eased toward the edge of the shower curtain and reached for it with a shaking, trembling hand. Before she could stop herself, she slid the plastic back enough to peek into the small bathroom.
There he stood, larger than life and more gorgeous than ever. A rough scruff covered his cheeks and chin, attesting to the fact he hadn’t shaved. His clothes were wrinkled, and his shirt creased as if he’d slept in it. The same went for his jeans.
“Wyatt?” She didn’t care that her voice quaked.
He grunted again. “That bitch of yours packs a mean punch, huh?”
Millie’s power bristled at being called a bitch, but settled at the compliment. “Um, yes?” She tightened her grip on the curtain. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here? In the bathroom. In Gina’s house.”
He furrowed his brow in confusion. “You left me and I promised we’d talk. Besides, this is where you are. I told you last night I wasn’t letting you go. You stayed. So here I am.”
The words were matter-of-fact. As if nothing was odd about his statements. Except she hadn’t seen him last night. They’d parted ways at her front door, and she spent the rest of the evening wishing she was strong enough to bend her power to her will.
There was no way.
But what about the bruises? The scrapes and mud and dirt? Did I somehow… No.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Can you—can you leave? Please?” Her fingertips ached, and she pretended the cat wasn’t coming out to play, imagined it wasn’t trying to take control. She was nervous, worried, almost scared, but she didn’t need her panther. She didn’t know much, but she knew her mate wouldn’t hurt her. At least, she didn’t think so.
“Last night,” he furrowed his brow. “Last night, in my living room. You stayed the night and then disappeared.”
Millie shook her head. “No, I stayed in my room last night. I didn’t leave.”
Liar. What about the mud?
“Bethy—”
Her gums ached, fangs growing and pushing aside her teeth. “Please. If you won’t,” she cleared her throat and kicked at the panther. “Can you let me finish my shower? Please.”
“Okay, sweetheart. But I’m not leaving the house. I know you were with me last night. I know it.”
Sweetheart.
The word niggled at her memory. There for an instant, then forgotten and swept away to the back of her mind.
“We can talk about it when I’m done.”
Wyatt nodded. “Okay. I’ll be waiting.”
She wasn’t sure if it was a threat or a promise. And she wasn’t sure how she wanted to take it.
The moment the bathroom door clicked shut, finalizing his departure, Millie turned off the shower and stepped out. She snared a towel and dried with quick, efficient movements. She ignored the twinges of pain and aches that made themselves known. Each shift of muscle sent another pang through her.
Something happened last night.
Wyatt seemed to believe she’d spent the evening with him.
If she had, did he cause her bruises?
No. She didn’t know how she knew, but she did.
So… where?
With a shake of her head, she pushed the worry from her mind. She’d talk to Wyatt, and together they’d figure out what happened. Because, no matter what, she’d gone through hell and been bitten by something last night. It sure as fuck wasn’t a lion. She glanced at the two pink dots on her back. No, definitely not a lion.
Millie slipped on her shorts, sans panties, hissing when they slid over her hips. Her bra was quick to follow and was just as quickly discarded. No way. Not with the darkening bruise on her ribs that seemed to wrap around her and ended below her armpit. It wasn’t happening. Instead, she tossed on her loose T-shirt and called it good. She’d be flapping in the breeze, but it was better than being in pain.
Taking a deep breath, she opened the bathroom door and stepped into the hallway. Wyatt’s scent was concentrated there, as if he’d stood there and lingered before entering. Or he stuck around after he’d left, listening to her moan and groan as she dressed. Neither prospect was appealing.
The deep sound of Wyatt’s voice reached her, and she instinctively felt the urge to go to him and sink into his embrace. The cat was annoyed with his sudden appearance, but it also recognized safety. Why couldn’t the little shit make up its mind already? First happy, then pissed, then happy and now satisfied.
Millie strode down the hallway, ignoring the twinge in her left foot. She was led into the living room by the voices, freezing when she emerged into the open space and found… Alex. The Prime. Oh, God, not now. She was already fucked from her lost night and Wyatt’s presence and now…
Her body reacted to the male. That’s what he was. Simply a man invading their territory. He threatened them. He could hurt them, and she couldn’t let that happen. The billowing anger rose, the cat hot on its heels, and she spun, anxious to run and save Alex any pain.
Her body waged war on itself. Fight or flight. The power and her cat wanted to fight. Fight hard. Fight deadly.
Two strong arms wrapped around her, sheltered her, protected her. With the unexpected touch, the urge to do battle receded. It flowed to the back of her mind and curled up in a satisfied, calm ball. One meeting of skin and skin and he had her calming.
“Wyatt,” she sighed and slumped into his arms.
“I’ve got you, Bethy.”
He held her, the two of them breathing in sync as her body drained of every hint of rage. Muscles she hadn’t realized were tense eased and relaxed into his embrace until she was a boneless mass.
Wyatt nuzzled her neck, and she tilted her head to the side, granting him more access. Even if she couldn’t have him, she wanted him. He was a drug she ached to be addicted to for all time. He lapped and licked her skin, tongue gliding over her moist flesh. Then a sharp fang scraped her and she shuddered at the seductive caress.
“I’ll always have you, Bethy.” He whispered the words against her skin and then blew a warm puff of air over her. “Always.”
The sound of a throat clearing popped their seductive bubble and Millie stiffened in Wyatt’s embrace.
He was quick
to tighten his hold for a brief moment. “Tell that part of you to quit being a brat. The cat too.” He nipped her shoulder. “Now.”
And those parts listened. Traitors.
Wyatt eased his hold, hands sliding along her arms before cupping her shoulders and turning her to face him. A sexy grin graced his mouth, and she fought the urge to kiss him, capture his lips and slide her tongue into him.
One kiss hadn’t been enough.
Another throat clearing had her narrowing her eyes while he rolled his own.
“C’mon. Alex needs to talk to us about yesterday.”
“Last night?” She couldn’t imagine he’d spoken with the Prime about last night already.
“The picnic.” He released her shoulder and stroked the bridge of her nose. “Last night is between you and me.”
“Oh.”
“C’mon.” Wyatt tugged her forward and deeper into the living room. He settled her on the couch and immediately took up the space beside her, snuggling close and practically encircling her with his presence.
Millie clutched his hand, nerves wreaking havoc on her body. Her cat and power stirred, but Wyatt’s touch soothed her.
“So, Millie,” Alex began, and she wanted to correct him. She was beginning to think of herself as Bethy. Wyatt’s Bethy. “Why don’t you tell me why I’m still standing? Maya thought a child would keep you from lashing out, but now… ”
She stared at the Prime, knowing he wanted an answer she didn’t want to give. Things were… complicated to say the least. Was she keeping Wyatt? He seemed to think so. Even the cat and her power were on board with that plan. But part of her knew he deserved more than a broken woman who couldn’t interact with anyone without his touch. And what if that trick stopped working? What if she grew too strong to be cowed by Wyatt’s dominance? What if—
What if, what if, what if…
Millie closed her eyes and licked her lips, knowing she was about to commit herself to a man who deserved so much more than she could give.
“Wyatt is my mate.” His hand tightened on hers, squeezing gently, and she sensed his rising happiness at her statement. God, she prayed it wasn’t a mistake. “He’s able to keep things steady.”
“I don’t sense,” Alex raised her eyebrows. “A completion of your mating. What I do sense is pain.” His nostrils flared. “A lot of it.”
* * *
Wyatt breathed deep and followed the scents coming from his mate. His mate. She’d said the words aloud, to the Prime no less, and now he wouldn’t allow her to take them back.
He let the air in his lungs out slowly and then drew in more, hunting for what Alex had discovered and… there. It was there. Hidden beneath the strawberries and cream of her shampoo and the light floral aroma of her soap. Pain. So much damned pain.
“Bethy?”
She tensed and looked away. He placed a fingertip below her chin and urged her to return her attention to him. The cat was going ballistic, sensing her aches weren’t emotional, but physical. It railed at him that they hadn’t sensed it sooner. It was pissed they’d left her alone in the bathroom when her body was hurt.
Bethy allowed him to move her, and he sucked in a breath at the agony that filled her gaze. “What happened, sweetheart? You were fine when we fell asleep. You didn’t say anything earlier.”
Tears filled her eyes. He hated that each time he saw her, she sniffled and cried. “I don’t know. I don’t remember. Until you said something about last night, I thought I slept here. Wyatt, I—”
He grasped her hand and pulled her closer, tugging until she rested against him. “Hush.” He rubbed her back and then froze at her wince. “I’ve got you.”
He met Alex’s gaze over her head and noted the man’s concerned frown. “Is she—”
“We’ll be fine. Can we finish this later? Lemme figure out what happened?” Tears soaked his shirt, and the cat panicked, pushing forward in an attempt to protect their mate from whatever caused her distress. His gums ached, and the tips of his fingers throbbed with the impending appearance. “I’ll call you later, Prime. I need to care for my mate now.”
The Prime opened his mouth as if to object, but Bethy shifted her attention, head turning toward Alex. Whatever the man saw, it caused him to snap his lips together. “I’ll wait for your call.”
In moments, the front door opened and then clicked shut once again, signaling the Prime’s departure.
Rather than rush Bethy into an explanation, he simply held her. He enjoyed her solid weight against his chest, reveled in the way her curves molded against him. His cat purred in delight. Now that the presumed threat from Alex was gone, they could relax. Especially since the scent of their mate’s pain dissipated with every breath.
That didn’t mean he was about to forget it, though.
“Bethy?”
She nuzzled his chest. “Hmm?”
“We need to talk.”
Bethy huffed and slumped against him. “Do I need to move? Wyatt, it’s so comfortable here. Doesn’t hurt.”
“Aw, sweetheart,” he murmured against the top of her head. “Why don’t you tell me what happened last night and then I’ll give you my version.”
She buried her face in his shirt, and when she spoke, her words were muffled by his clothing. “I went to bed around ten and woke up around eight this morning. That’s what happened.”
Wyatt shook his head. “No, you came by my place around eleven in your panther form. Your cat is sleek and gorgeous, sweetheart. You’re like liquid midnight. Crept up on me, and I didn’t even know you were there until you were nearly on top of me. You meant to alert me, didn’t you?”
He had no doubt she could have pounced and slit his throat before he even realized she’d entered his home. Panthers in the wild were sneaky.
“No,” she shook her head and pushed away from him, wincing as she shifted position. “I slept. I woke.” She shuddered and gripped the bottom of her shirt. “I woke up with these,” she whispered as she lifted her top to expose her bare stomach.
The pale, plump skin was covered in varying shades of purple.
“What the hell? You fell asleep beside me.” He reached out to touch her skin, but froze when she jerked back. Damn it. He had to remember that her saying the words didn’t automatically mean she was ready to move on to the next step. “You were fine when you laid down. You marked me with your scent and then we curled up on the living room floor.”
“I don’t—” She shook her head.
“Yes. You stayed shifted, and we formed our own human-kitty pile. I swear it, Bethy.” He needed her to believe him. He hadn’t done this. He hadn’t hurt her.
She must have recognized his worry. “I know you didn’t hurt me. It wasn’t you.” She let her shirt fall to cover her once again. “But are you sure it was me?”
Vulnerability filled every part of her and Wyatt was quick to soothe her. He grabbed her hand and cradled it between his. “We may not be fully mated, but you are mine, sweetheart. I have your scent. My cat won’t ever forget it. So when I say you were beside me last night, I assure you, it was you and not some other panther. You.”
“I don’t remember.” She closed her eyes and turned her head away. “I woke up covered in mud and bruises this morning. And a bite on my shoulder.”
The lion surged, tearing through him like a damned runaway car and shoving itself forward. In a blink, fingers became claws, skin became fur, and his human mouth reshaped to his cat’s muzzle.
Something, someone, had bitten his.
Rage thumped and pushed at him, sending adrenaline through his entire body and shooting his anger rocketing through the sky.
His.
But then… Calm. Soothing, cool, calm enveloped him. It was as if a soft kiss was pressed against his soul while a gentle hand stroked his uncontrolled beast.
A small hand rubbed his chest, fingers sliding over his thin shirt and tentatively caressing him. “Easy. I’m… Well, I’m not fine, but I’m okay.”
Wyatt breathed deep and drew her, all of her, into his lungs. He identified every ache by scent, noted the worry and fear that coated her skin, and then there was this other that mingled with the aromas.
The other had to be the bite.
Another stroke of her palm over his body and he willed the cat back. They’d figure out what happened, discover who dared to hurt their mate.
Because one thing was for certain: Bethy had been attacked, beaten and bitten somewhere between his home and Gina’s. And she didn’t remember a moment.
The question became: why? And better yet: who?
“Shh…” Her voice was soft, lyrical, and he realized she was using her power on him, lulling his cat into submission.
“Bethy, do you realize what you’re doing?” From all accounts, she had been having more than a little problem with control. Hell, she herself was surprised he hadn’t been fried to a crisp.
His mate froze and snatched her hand away from him. “I-I calmed you.” Panic tainted the air. “How did I calm you? I can’t do that. I can’t go into someone’s head and calm their beast. My power bludgeons people, not soothes them. They keep trying to teach me, but it doesn’t… I can’t—”
“Easy. My turn to calm you. I’m fine. I’m not going to hurt you, and the cat is under control. Easy.” He tugged her back to him. “Do you have bruises anywhere else? I need to see the bite.” He couldn’t help the lion’s growl in his voice. “And don’t try to pet that anger away. I’m allowed to be mad when another puts his fangs in you.”
Bethy chuckled. “God, are we going to spend the rest of our lives telling each other to chill out?”
Wyatt smiled and rested his cheek atop her head. “If we’re lucky.” He rubbed her hair, transferring his scent to her. “But no changing the subject.” She sighed, and he ignored it. “I need to see what was done to you and then we can figure out what we’re going to do next. It scares the hell out of me that you were hurt, and even more that you don’t remember anything about last night.”
