by Anna Lowe
“I figured I’d end up riding bulls, too, but I stuck with bullfighting. And it was good…”
He trailed off, and she could practically hear the unspoken word: Until. She rubbed his chest in circles,
“How’d you get into waitressing?” he blurted, changing the topic, and it sounded so ridiculous, they both laughed.
“Well, I grew up in a family of bartenders, and they made me bring them pretend orders…”
Cole cracked up, and the only thing that kept her from doing the same was the joy of listening to his deep, rich laugh. The kind of free and hearty laugh she wished she could hear all the time.
Maybe we can, her wolf started, hoping against hope.
She rolled and lay on top of Cole, wiggling and grinning like a fool until a horse nickered outside and the real world bumped her conscience once again.
Tell him! part of her pushed. Tell him now, while he feels good.
Right. Cole, I’m a wolf shifter, and you’re turning into one, too.
Like that would work.
You and me, baby, howling at the moon…
Much as her wolf loved the image, she knew that would never fly.
His wolf would like it, though, her inner beast chipped in.
Yes, Cole’s inner wolf would like that. But that was the problem. She had to find a way to let the beast out in tiny bits without letting it take control. She’d have to teach Cole’s human side to accept the animal within and teach the beast its limits at the same time. Too much, too soon, and the wolf could burst the boundaries of Cole’s two sides — literally.
She hid her face in his neck again. Time was running out. The Change was accelerating in Cole. She’d sensed him sniff her neck. Went boneless when he’d nipped her there and practically screamed, Yes! Yes! Yes!
Thank God she hadn’t. A mating bite would drag Cole’s beast right to the surface. She had to help him take it slow.
But Jesus, how slow did she dare go? If the beast outpaced her…
She shook her head. Couldn’t let that happen. No way could she lose Cole.
His hands played over her back, and she tried concentrating on the human side of her lover. The one still firmly in charge…or so she hoped.
“You know what we should do?” His tone was light and playful.
“What?”
“Go dancing.”
“Dancing?” She popped up to examine his face. Was he nuts? She had to save him. Talk to him. Help him through the Change. Dancing was the last thing they ought to do.
“Dancing.” He nodded firmly. “Like we did that night.”
Janna melted, just thinking about it. The night of their first kiss. A beautiful night, free of worry and doubt. A night that felt light-years away.
Cole ran a gentle finger down her cheek. “Dancing. You and me.”
Us. Her wolf nodded eagerly.
Well, maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea. Dancing would let her wolf bond to his a little more, and it would be fun. They could dance for a while, then come back to his place, and she’d tell him once he was good and relaxed.
“Dancing.” She nodded. “Good idea.”
“Do you have to work tonight?”
She sighed. She ought to be at work already. “Yes.”
“Well, I could meet you at the saloon—”
“No!” She cut him off too sharply, then backpedaled. “I mean, how about we meet at Jay’s Bar?”
The last thing she needed was for Simon or Soren or her sister to figure out what was happening to Cole. Or worse, for one of the Twin Moon ranch hands to figure it out. They’d drag him straight over to their alpha, and who knew what they’d do next. She’d heard of wolves killing Changelings if they thought madness would set in.
No way was she letting that happen. She had to figure this out alone. Cole needed her — she was sure of it. Her and time and space to make it through the Change. The peace in him came from being with her, because they were destined mates.
My destined mate, her wolf hummed.
He ran a finger along her collarbone and smiled a wicked smile.
“What?”
“You’re still naked, you know.”
She laughed. “Yeah, well. You’re naked, too.”
“Convenient,” he whispered, and the sound ran a few sensual circles around her ear before sliding deep into her soul.
She cupped his face and kissed him, long and deep and slow, until both their smiles faded to expressions that were more serious. Sensual. She was already draped across his naked body, so it didn’t take much for her skin to prickle and heat or for her calm, collected heart rate to speed up.
“Promise you won’t buck me off,” she murmured, sliding into a straddle over him.
“Promise,” he replied, looking up at her as if she were a goddess.
When she leaned back and lowered herself onto his erection, her eyes slid to half-mast and stayed there as she started to rock. And when he reached a hand out to play with her clit, she started squeaking again. Happy little groaning squeaks that made the fire in his eyes dance and flare. Her whole body rode him in long, languid waves, and he pushed up to meet every one.
“So good,” she mumbled, breaking into a faster pace. A lope, you might call it, then a wild, out-of-control gallop over bumps and valleys and streams that had her hanging on for her life. “Cole…”
It was the ride of her life — and possibly his, too, judging by how hard he clenched his jaw. His tight grip on her hips might leave bruises, but she didn’t care. Not when it kept her anchored tightly against him.
“Yes…” She squeezed over him then shuddered, completely out of control.
Cole hissed into a long, raspy groan and released inside her. Hot and sticky and sure to make a mess because they hadn’t remembered a condom this time, though she couldn’t care less. Not when their connection felt so good. So right.
“Cole…” She collapsed over him and clung to him tightly, as if fate might come along any second and pry her away.
“Janna…” He wrapped his thick arms around her and hung on in exactly the same way.
Chapter Eleven
Cole knew the bliss of that afternoon had to end sometime, but shoot. Did it have to end so soon?
Showering had still counted among the fun things they’d gotten up to, as did finding something for her to wear afterward.
“Try this one.” He’d tossed her a shirt and felt a ridiculous shot of possessive pride when she pulled on his button-down.
“How do I look?” She winked, modeling for him.
You look like mine. My woman. My mate.
The inner voice sounded a lot like the one he spoke aloud with: hoarse. Rumbly. Greedy for more.
“Good. Great.”
“You know what I like about you?” she asked out of the blue.
I know what I like about you, he couldn’t help thinking.
“What’s to like?” He tried keeping the anticipation out of his voice.
She shook her head at that and winched him into another hug. “I think I like everything about you. Especially how well you fit right here.” Her fingers played over his back, and she whispered, “I wish I didn’t have to go.”
He hugged back as tight as he dared. God, he wished, too.
“You’ll be okay?” She pulled back as she asked, chewing her lip.
“Fine,” he said, wondering if it was a lie. Being with her had brought him a blissful sense of balance. But saying good-bye…
He kissed her, then pulled away to get it over with — but didn’t quite succeed. He just ended up kissing her again. And again, because letting her go suddenly seemed like a bad idea. She squeezed her body against his, making him warm all over. Hard, too, like this was a greeting and not the parting it had to be.
“Gotta go,” she whispered at last, looking sadder than he’d ever seen her.
He held Janna by both arms and stroked her skin for a good minute, trying to soak in enough of her goodness to make it through
the rest of the day.
“You okay?” she murmured, cocking her head to blink at him through her doe eyes.
“Good.” Looking at her, how could he feel any other way?
“Jess will be waiting,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Yeah, he was a greedy bastard, because he wanted her all to himself. But she had a job, just like he did, and it was time to let go.
He forced himself to release her, one reluctant finger at a time, and tried to muster a grin. “See you soon?”
She nodded. Quickly, enthusiastically. “Tonight?”
Janna had a way of saying the word that made him shiver in the very best way.
“Tonight.” He nodded.
“Jay’s Bar,” she said, and then she was off. Every step she took put a crack in his heart, and he shuffled a few steps closer to her car.
Mine! Mate!
“You sure you’ll be okay?” she called, like he was a kid being left home alone for the first time.
It felt like that, too.
“Fine.” He nodded and said it over and over again as she drove away.
He kicked the dirt and studied his boots for a little while before tilting his head back at the pure blue sky, streaked with the first pink hues of sunset. As beautiful as Janna. Well, almost. She was more beautiful than any view. More beautiful than the whole of Arizona, and that was saying a lot. More beautiful than—
He kicked the dirt again and sighed. Yeah, she was beautiful, all right. And perfect. So perfect for him.
“Excuse me,” an uncertain voice called.
He turned and saw a woman he didn’t recognize, approaching him with a child in tow.
“We wanted to thank you…” she said.
Right — the mother of the child who’d run into the bull pen. The little guy was at her side, hiding something behind his back while his shy eyes stayed firmly rooted to the ground.
“Come on, Johnny,” the lady said. “Give it to the nice man.”
Cole didn’t know if it was him scaring the kid or the situation, but either way, it seemed like a good idea to squat down.
“Hey,” he tried.
The little boy looked at his mother, who gestured to Cole. Eventually, the kid stuck a piece of paper in front of Cole’s nose.
“Now what do we have here?” Cole asked, taking it.
“A picture,” the boy whispered, dragging a foot in the dirt.
Cole turned the paper around, studied the jumble of lines and blobs, and whistled. “Nice picture. Did you draw this?”
He had no idea what was drawn under the crooked words THANK YOU, but it seemed like the right thing to say.
The boy nodded.
“There’s the bull.” The mother pointed, acting as art interpreter.
Cole tilted his head. Yeah, that U-shape could be horns.
“Big bull,” he murmured.
“And there you are,” the mother said, pointing to what appeared to be a stick figure. A really tall stick figure that seemed to dwarf the bull.
“Wow. I’m big, too.”
He meant it as a joke, but the kid moved his head in a series of jerky nods. “Really big,” he breathed.
Cole hid a smile behind the back of his hand.
“And there’s Johnny,” the mom finished.
Another little stick figure stood on the side beside a couple of lopsided smiley faces that had to be the parents.
Cole looked at it for a good, long time. Cleared his throat a couple of times, because all of a sudden he was all dry and scratchy inside.
“Well, thanks,” he said, standing up quickly. “I think I have a great place for this picture.”
“Thank you,” the mother said. Her voice was quiet, but the gratitude in her eyes just about screamed out loud. Then she took the little boy’s hand and turned back toward the house.
Cole stood there a while longer, looking at the dust settle on the road, then at the picture. Closed his eyes and looked at memories for a while, too. Good memories. Bad ones. Everything in between. Then he took a deep breath and looked up again, wishing Janna were around to put it all in words for him. Even if she didn’t say anything, she’d have that I get it look he wished he could see right now.
Then he strode to the stables, because a guy couldn’t stand and stare at an empty stretch of road all day. He dropped the picture off at his apartment — a place that felt twice as small and four times as empty now that Janna was gone — then went to the stables. The horses tossed their heads and nickered warily but settled down and let him work. Pip came over, looking strangely meek, too. The dog kept his tail between his legs and licked Cole’s hand like he’d been granted an audience with the Pope or a king.
Something inside him gave a grunt of satisfaction. Top Dog. Me. The boss.
Which was ridiculous, because all the animals knew Rosalind was the big boss. That had always been okay with him, as long as he came a close second. But tonight…something had shifted somehow. Even Thunder, who nipped anyone who came into his stall, didn’t pull any of his usual tricks.
Cole swept the center of the barn, then leaned against the creaky door. The stars had come out, one by one, and hung winking in the indigo sky. Crickets chirped and warm yellow light radiated from Rosalind’s place and the guest house nearby. The scent of stew carried on the dry air, and he breathed it in deep.
Peace. Goodness. Harmony. It was in the slopes of the hills, in the quiet murmur of the animals in the barn. A firefly blinked on and off, not far from Cole’s knee.
A nice night. A good night. With more goodness to come because he had a date with Janna. He had plenty of time to get cleaned up for her, and he’d do a good job because he cared for a change.
He headed back to his place and ate some leftovers. Looked around and swore, because damn, it was a mess, and Janna might come over later. So he set about cleaning and tidying — for a whole hour since he had time to kill. But the cleaner he got the place, the more off-balance he felt.
He showered again, trying to scrub the feeling away, but it only got worse. His gut clenched up, not from the food but from the feeling inside. He shaved slowly, carefully, pretending everything was fine.
He turned and checked his back in the mirror, looking for a reminder of Janna. She’d scratched his back enough to have cooed over it afterward, which he’d enjoyed almost as much as he’d enjoyed the act that had created the scratches in the first place.
He twisted and craned his head over his shoulder. Not a scratch in sight. All gone. All healed. That fast?
An hour after he’d shaved, he ran his hand over his chin and crap, he’d missed several patches, so he started all over again. He really ought to get a better light because he kept overlooking spots. That, or the stubble kept speeding right back in again.
His arm itched — ferociously — and his mood soured. Could he not enjoy half a day of happiness without the constant ups and downs?
He fiddled around the place for another hour, getting more and more restless, until he finally stormed out the doorway and onto the landing, just to have someplace to stomp to. He grabbed the handrail and gritted his teeth against the pain under his nails. That nails-being-pulled-out feeling again.
Then his chin snapped up to the night sky, and he froze.
The moon shone on him like a spotlight, and he threw up a hand to block it.
“Goddamn moon,” he cursed under his breath.
Cursing felt better than fretting about nothing, so he said it again. “Goddamn moon.”
He shook his fist at it and repeated the words until he was babbling like a crazy man and the letters slurred. The part he held longest was the A of damn and the long OO of moon. A. Moon. Mooooon. A. Oooon. A… Ooooo…
Before he knew it, a howl rose up in his mind.
Aroooooo.
A strangled, angry sound that his body wanted to sway with, like a dance.
Aroooooo…
He darted inside and slammed the door so hard, the wi
ndows rattled in their panes. Then he backed up until he dropped to the bed and slammed his hands over his eyes.
Think about Janna. Think about good things.
He tried, but the good kept meandering off into bad. Like how desperately he’d wanted to tear into her neck. What kind of sick mind thought up things like that?
Mate. Needs us. Wants us, the dark voice said.
He shook his head and ground his molars. Freeze-framed back to the glorious image of Janna riding him. Her pert little breasts had swayed with the rest of her body, and her glossy hair had danced back over her shoulders. She’d leaned over him with a hot, hungry look, and her hair tickled his skin. So shiny and fine, his fingers reached into thin air.
But no Janna. Not for real. Just images that got worse and worse. Images he feared might become real.
Like Janna screaming, not in passion but in pain. In fear. He saw hands all over Janna, ripping her clothes. Raping, pillaging hands that reared back and rushed forward with merciless slaps and punches.
“Janna!” he cried aloud, and the sound carried into the night.
Cole! Her mouth opened and closed as she screamed in the terrible vision. Was she screaming at him? For him? He couldn’t tell.
Mine. Must have her! Must have my mate! the voice went crazy inside.
Stop! Janna screamed. Stop!
But he didn’t stop, and the images got worse. It was him, hurting her. The realization made him sick. He’d ripped her shirt off that afternoon. He’d eyed her neck. Now this crazy moon fever was upon him, and he wanted to do worse.
Must get to her…
He jumped up and bolted the door. Dragged the desk in front of it, too. He hunched as he did it, because his back was bowed and bent.
Will not hurt Janna! Never.
The banging in his head became an earsplitting screech, and the ugly images got even worse. Janna, screaming. Fighting. Losing…
Whatever force had taken over his mind made him roll to all fours and snap his head up toward the door.
Get Janna! Find her! Now! the voice barked.
He scrambled backward, fighting madly. Promising himself he would not break through the door and heed that evil voice.
Claim her!
