Willow Run: Boxed Set (Books 1-6)

by Hart, Melissa F.

  Reaching down, Willow took Nicholas’ cock in her hand, lifting her hips to plunge him inside her. Then, for a split second, she was suspended over him, as he held her away from his body with his powerful hands around her waist.

  “You’re sure you want this?”

  Willow nodded slowly, her voice a hoarse whisper, “I need to feel like I’m in control of my life again. I’m tired of running, and I’m tired of being chased.”

  Nicholas relaxed his grip, and Willow sucked in a breath as she let gravity pull her slowly down Nicholas’ thickness. She breathed a moment, just allowing herself to feel him inside her, and then she began to slowly move above him. His hands stroked her ass and legs in encouraging caresses, but without trying to direct her. Soon, Willow relaxed into the motion, giving herself over to the sensations rising within her, and to the surprising depth of feeling she now shared with Nicholas. A few moments more, and the cries of their pleasure split the morning air.

  ***

  “Hey there.” Katie was sitting on the tailgate of her car, filing a broken fingernail. She raised the nail file in greeting. Michael waved; he was sitting against a tree, reading a paperback. Gretchen was snoozing with the car seat tilted back. No one seemed particularly surprised or bothered when Willow and Nicholas showed up and, Willow thought, they all looked exceedingly human.

  “Thirsty?” Katie asked, throwing Willow and Nicholas each a bottle of water.

  Gretchen woke up with a little shake. “Is it time to go?” She yawned.

  “Time to go,” Katie confirmed.

  “What time is it?” Willow asked.

  “Time for everyone to get home for a shower so we can make it to work on time,” Michael teased.

  Katie hopped off the tailgate and slammed it shut. Looking from Nicholas to Willow, she said to her friend with a smile in her voice, “I think your training is officially over.”

  ***

  “George!” Willow called. “Can you let in whoever is trying to bust down the front door? I’m taking out some stitches.”

  “On it!” he called back. “Why can’t we be like the people at the bank or the post office who just stare at you through the locked door until the exact moment they are officially open?”

  “You know why,” Willow laughed. “I’ll be right out, I’m almost done.”

  The next thing Willow heard was the rattle of the keys in the deadbolt of the front door, followed by George exclaiming, “Mr. Leland!”

  Willow’s heart fell. Mace, of course, knew that the full moon was that night, and clearly he wasn’t giving up on her. Her conflicted feelings meant that it was not a conversation she was looking forward to having. Taking her time, she pulled the last stitch, and then put the woozy poodle back in the safety of a kennel. Stalling, she decided to tie up the trash after throwing her latex gloves away, then spent more time than necessary washing her hands. Giving herself a quick check in the bathroom mirror, she went to face the cougar music.

  Mace perked up as she walked into the waiting area. Earl, the most robust and healthy cat Willow had ever seen, was hanging over his shoulder, licking Mace’s ear.

  “Good morning, Mr. Leland. Let’s go back to exam room one.”

  Willow couldn’t help but think of the last time she and Mace had been in exam room one. He had done everything short of proclaiming his undying love for her. To his credit, he had been giving her space since the wedding, but she felt it was only because she had issued an ultimatum about needing to focus on her shifter training, and not because he really understood what she was going through.

  She shut the door. “I’m assuming Earl is fine?”

  Mace nodded, a little sheepishly. “Yes, Earl is fine.” He cleared his throat nervously. “How are you, Willow?”

  She shrugged. “I’m okay, fine really. I still don’t have any idea who made me, but I guess that may be clearer after tonight.”

  “Well, that’s…sort of why I’m here.”

  Willow felt her heart skip a beat. Was Mace going to confess that he made her?

  “Maybe you should sit down.” The author waved at her rolling stool.

  “That’s okay. I’ll stand.” Her voice was clipped, and she tried to make herself go numb. If Mace was her maker, what would that mean? The fact that they shared a physical attraction was obvious, but how could she ever have deep feelings for her shifter rapist? And what about Nicholas, who was proving himself to truly be Prince Charming?

  “You know, I assume, from our last meeting here, that I’ve been somewhat…depressed. I’m sure you can understand that it’s not easy being the last of your kind.” Mace looked at Willow expectantly, but she said nothing. Coughing a little, he continued, “It’s…made me self-absorbed. Couple that with an agent, a publisher and fans all kissing your ass…and severely reclusive catamount tendencies, well, none of it is very healthy. I haven’t been sensitive to what you must be going through, and my interest in you has been…self-serving. This morning, it hit me that I couldn’t possible bear having you go into your first shift without apologizing. So, here I am, your humble servant, asking forgiveness.”

  Earl punctuated Mace’s regret with a plaintive meow.

  Willow breathed out a sigh of relief, and then extended her hand to scratch Earl under his chin. “I completely understand, Mace. The cat thing—I wasn’t using good judgment that day we, umm, you know…at your house. I’ve been pretty confused, too.”

  “I’d like us to be friends, Willow, and in time, after we really know one another, if things seem right, we could, of course, explore other possibilities.” His voice brightened.

  “I’d like us to be friends, too.” Willow leaned in and gave Mace a kiss on the cheek. “Only time can tell about anything else.”

  Mace gathered up Earl in his arms and stepped toward the door. Stopping, he turned back to Willow. “And remember, if you need a friend to go kick some furball’s ass, I’m still the cat for the job.”

  George was sweeping the waiting area as Willow came out from exam room one. He pointed to the dustpan. “Can you hold that for me?”

  Obligingly, Willow grabbed it, and knelt down.

  “What’s wrong with his cat anyway?” George asked as he swept up some crumbs of dog treats into the pan.

  “Oh, he’s better now. His cat was just a little depressed.”

  The rest of the day was shockingly pedestrian, Willow observed. No emergencies, no difficult pets or pet parents, just a day of taking care of cats and dogs.

  Grace showed up at the clinic a little before three, the time Samuel typically left work on Fridays since Willow joined the practice. The normally staid Yankee was wearing a stylish sundress and had exchanged her sensible shoes for a pair of cute summer sandals.

  “What a pretty dress, Grace!” Willow exclaimed as she handed over a squirming Boxer puppy to its delighted new owner.

  “Do you like it?” Grace almost twirled. “I ordered it online for our trip to Lake Champlain. We’re leaving tomorrow.”

  Willow held the door for the exiting puppy owner, and then turned back to Grace. “Did you get anything else?” Willow whispered conspiratorially.

  “I bought this dress, a pair of capris, two tops, and two new skirts!” Grace was almost giddy. “I can’t remember the last time I indulged in such a spree. I guess I needed a good reason.”

  “Well, I’m really happy that you and Samuel are getting away.”

  Samuel popped out from one of the exam rooms. “I hear someone taking my name in vain,” he laughed. “And, Willow, who is this gorgeous woman in our waiting room?”

  He gave his wife a little kiss, and Grace giggled. It was clear to Willow that the two were, as Grace had hoped, definitely rekindling their romance. It made her happy to see that a couple who had been married for almost forty years could still be that much in love.

  “Okay, Dr. Ryersen, hold the fort! We’ll be back on Friday, and I’ll cover call next weekend.” Samuel hung his lab coat on a peg by the door. “
Don’t forget that you need to put in the order to the compounding pharmacy on Monday, and that Herb Brand is expecting you to vaccinate his new cows on Wednesday. Oh, and if you and George could do an inventory on surgical supplies, it’ll be spay and neuter day right after I get back.”

  Grace patted her husband. “Don’t fuss. Willow’s very capable. She doesn’t need a micromanager.”

  “Yes, of course, you’re absolutely right, dear.” Samuel gazed at his wife lovingly. Then, he goosed her ass.

  “Samuel!” Grace giggled and blushed, and for a split second, Willow clearly saw the graceful neck and limpid eyes of a Canadian goose.

  Wow, Willow thought, Grace was a shifter…and clearly, a very, very secretive one. That must mean that Samuel was exactly as he appeared: one hundred percent human. She tried not to let on that anything was different.

  “Okay, you lovebirds, have fun.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Willow wanted to kick herself. No bird references. Ever. She certainly didn’t want to be the one to blow a forty-year-old secret…or to experience the punishing side of shifter justice.

  Samuel waved his hand. “See you next week.”

  Grace turned at the door. “Good luck…Willow. But I’m hoping you won’t need it.”

  ***

  Team Willow was gathered in the clearing on the hill as the full moon began to rise. Everyone was still human, waiting for Willow to shift first. Earlier, she had mowed through a raw porterhouse, and now she felt twitchy, but not anxious. To stay focused on what was going on inside her, she lay on her back on a circle of soft moss, looking up at the sky, and holding Nicholas’ hand.

  “Does this all seem a little anticlimactic?” Willow asked.

  “Maybe a little,” Katie agreed. “The practice run somehow seemed…harder.”

  “That’s what I was thinking.” Willow chewed on a blade of grass, and Nicholas squeezed her fingers between his own.

  “What’s your mantra?” Michael asked.

  “I’m a human, I’m a human, I’m a human,” Willow chanted.

  At that moment, as if to disagree with her thought, a spasm rippled through Willow’s limbs.

  “Here we go!” Gretchen said, pointing at Willow’s shuddering body.

  Nicholas kissed Willow’s hand, and then let her go. “It’s all good, don’t be afraid. We’re all here.”

  Willow nodded, feeling the energy rolling through like hot pulses. She shut her eyes and focused on opening herself to the change; she pictured her body as a ball of rubber bands, and that the bands were being cut, one by one. Suddenly, it was as if she was in free fall at 20,000 feet. She heard someone gasp, and then she opened her eyes. She shook herself, thinking that nothing had happened, that the shift was yet to occur. Looking around her circle of friends, Willow couldn’t interpret their expressions. Her mantra welled up from the back of her brain. I’m a human. Then it was clear to her that the look on their faces was a mixture of shock, wonder and awe.

  “Holy cat woman,” Gretchen murmured.

  Nicholas knelt down and extended a hand, and when Willow tried to curl her fingers around it, a delicate looking spotted paw came into view. “You’re—you’re so beautiful, Willow,” Nicholas sighed.

  She playfully batted at him, and then tried to speak, wanting to ask what was going on. Only an odd sounding, growly, vocalization came out, though.

  “What is she?” Katie blurted, looking at the group, stunned. “We all know the only wild cats in this part of the world are bobcats and lynx, and maybe the rare cougar. And she sure as heck isn’t any of those three.”

  Michael scratched his head. “She’s—she’s an ocelot.”

  Willow looked from one face to the next; the word ocelot wasn’t connecting in her shifter brain.

  “An ocelot? Isn’t that a South American cat?” Gretchen asked.

  “Yeah, but there are some as far north as southern Texas,” Michael answered.

  “Why would there be an ocelot shifter in New England?” Katie asked, confused, “And why would they attack Willow to make her turn? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  Nicholas had grown quiet. Willow was sniffing him and tentatively nipped at his hand.

  “I heard about something like this once,” Nicholas snorted. “Shifter for hire.” He gently chucked his ocelot under the chin.

  “Shifter for h…do you mean like a hit man?” Katie’s eyes widened, in disbelief.

  “I mean exactly like a hit man. So we can’t leave our home territory for more than a week or so, but what’s to stop some bastard of an ocelot from flying up here from Texas or Mexico or some other place, doing the job, and turning around and going back home? Three days, in and out.”

  “Wow, it’s fiendishly brilliant—almost impossible to track, and the perpetrator who hired him could be a shifter of any species.” Michael shook his head.

  “Okay, but…why Willow?” Gretchen looked at her friend.

  “I don’t think we’re going to solve that part tonight. At least we can probably relax about the fact that someone might be lurking in the woods tonight, wanting to hurt her.” Nicholas stood up. “Time to change, guys. Willow still needs to have her first run.”

  Willow had grasped from the conversation that she was some kind of cat that no one expected, and that perhaps someone had been hired to make her. The cat in her was restless, though, and she started pacing, her tail whipsawing back and forth. A thought, no, a memory tried to make its way to the surface of Willow’s feverish mind.

  It was the image of a rather benign-looking Canadian Goose, a secretive goose no one knew was a shifter. At that moment, a giant moose appeared before her, smelling enticing. He kicked up his heels and headed into the bush. Soon Willow’s mantra was forgotten, as was the image of Grace. Willow was just a little ocelot, out for a night’s run.

  THE END