Her True Savior (Furever Shifter Mates #1; Shifting Hearts Dating Agency Book 4)

by Kiki Howell

  "Sure," she agreed.

  Maneuvering around having the one arm each cuffed to each other thing going on, they managed with little effort to get on the bed and sit side by side. Each had one hand free to eat, at least, though sometimes she had to put something into her cuffed hand to use the other to unwrap it. A few times, their efforts had had them almost laughing, or making a sound similar followed by the exchange of short-lived smiles.

  Once she got a few bites in her, she realized how hungry she'd been. Although, a few bites more, and her stomach had had enough. So much for being a stress eater. She guessed there was stress, and then there was sheer terror. It was her first at the latter. After they were done, the TV blaring some stupid infomercial neither of them were paying any attention to, he'd pushed what they hadn't eaten into a small trash can, and turned off the unneeded noise.

  "You have to be as tired as I am. I'm sorry I can't uncuff you, or I wouldn't sleep. And if I don't get at least a few hours after today, I'm going to be useless even with coffee tomorrow. Will you do me the kindness of not fighting me on this like the bathroom? We can just sleep, side by side, our hands don't even have to touch," he said, as he left his arm by hers, and scooted down flat onto the bed.

  He sat up again when she interlaced her fingers with his.

  "While you have bothered me being overbearing today, I am also well aware, now at least, that you did, with all of this, save my life. I am grateful. I also find, that I'm more tired than I've probably ever been in my life, and so I am also finding that I'm out of sorts, not really like myself. Right now, I find being cuffed to you a comfort, though I can't believe I'm thinking it let alone saying it. Is this that syndrome they talk about in victims already," she said, forcing a partial smile to show she'd attempted to joke.

  "I doubt it, but good, whatever it is. Because I hate having you upset with me. Lie down, then, Samantha. I'll hold your hand as you fall asleep. I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

  "I know that. And, while I'm not going to run, I don't think, at least not at this moment, I don't even think I could. Still, there is something reassuring in knowing that no one could even snatch me away from you. Would you mind terribly if I asked you to hold me, too?" Her voice had faded off to barely a whisper at the last request, as she'd tensed up her weary bones waiting for his response.

  "Say that last part again. I don't think I heard you correctly."

  "Hold me," she said, the crack in her voice warning of the tears that came right after.

  She scooted in lifting the arm cuffed to his, and awkwardly laid her head on his chest, bringing her free hand over beside it. His bare chest. He'd put on some kind of gym shorts, but nothing else after his shower. He said nothing, just draped his free arm over her side and held her tight, let her cry. The tears fell onto his chest, though he didn't complain. Beyond caring at that point, she snuggled in as much as she could manage, letting their legs touch, taking a woman's delight in the way his breath caught when she'd done so.

  "I'm sorry," she mumbled against his skin before she kissed his chest, once, lightly, then again, not stopping herself once she'd gotten a smell of him, a taste of him.

  "Samantha," he moaned, he tried a feeble protest.

  "Please. Say nothing," she begged. "I need this. Right now. I need you. Consequences be damned. Someone tried to kill me today, and right now I want to live. I want to feel alive."

  "But, I don't want you to hate me in the morning. And, if you don't stop soon, I can't be held responsible for what I do. I want you. Hell, I've wanted you, Samantha, since the first day I met you. So, this, for me, it has to be real, not a one night thing, not a grab for life. I want you to want me, to know without a shadow of a doubt, without any extenuating circumstances, that you want me. Just ME."

  "I do. I really do. I've tried so hard to deny it, to not let myself feel anything where you were concerned, lest you end up my savior that I feared I could no longer trust myself with. If I wanted to stay single, you couldn't be my savior, and yet, in even more a sense of the word than they meant, you are. I can't know what tomorrow brings for us. What I know is now I need you. I'm begging you. Please. Hold me. Like a man holds a woman."

  "You are not making any sense, Samantha, and I'm tired of this savior thing. I don't know what game you and Ian have been playing with that word, or how it pertains to me. But really, Sam, when I take you, I want to take you. I don't want to be cuffed to you out of necessity, I want you cuffed to my bed because you want to be there. Beyond that, this savior thing? What the hell? Explain. Because all Ian said was that he dated you for me, that I was free to act on the feelings he knew I had for you. He couldn't talk at the time beyond that."

  She sighed, tears coming stronger, her voice lost to sobs.

  "No, Sam, please. I didn't mean to make you cry."

  He pulled her up then, on top of him. Her legs straddled around his abs, the tight muscles jumping under her thighs. His hands cupped her face, the one of hers cuffed to his hung there, along for the ride.

  She leaned down and kissed him then, first tentatively, then it grew, rougher, the need evident from both of them, as he bit at her lip before his tongue invaded her mouth. She moaned, and he crushed her body to his for a glorious second that sent massive ripples of need and ecstasy that couldn't be quenched throughout her tense body. This lasted only a few mind numbing seconds before he gently pulled her face up away from his.

  "I'm trying to be strong here, but you are not helping. We are going to be stuck together for some time. It would be nice if you didn't hate me in the morning for taking advantage of you when you are so vulnerable."

  She bristled at the indication of weakness. "I'm a strong woman. If I want you now, I want you."

  "You are not thinking straight, and over the past few weeks you have come to mean more to me than this. You are an amazing woman, and when I take you into my arms, my bed, it's going to be more that a clutch at life through sex with anyone willing."

  "I'm not asking anyone willing, I'm asking you. I want you. I've wanted you, too." She stopped short at the admission.

  "But, if you are being honest with yourself, and I can see you have just come to realize it, too, had today not happened, the attack, had I not cuffed you to me and dragged you here, we would not be in bed together tonight. You know it and I know it. I want you, Sam. Damn, I really want you. But I don't want it to be tonight after all that has happened. I don't want to risk it, the possibility of what we could have together, when, for the first time in forever, I've wanted someone for more than a good fuck to release sexual tension. I will hold you. All night long. We will get some sleep. And, if you feel the same in the morning, I'm all yours, though I would prefer our first time not to be in some flea bag motel."

  "Please tell me there are no fleas," she said, having meant it as a joke, to lighten the mood, though her voice had not reflected that at all.

  "No, there are not. I hope. Now, sleep. Just sleep, my beautiful, Samantha."

  Feeling betrayed, by him maybe, by the world surely, along with being embarrassed and beyond tired, she slid off him, letting him still hold her, though, as she trembled into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  As she woke, the smell of Jacob, as unique as the man, hit her as she slithered slow against his hard body, the sensations flooding her until the nightmares of yesterday came trickling back into her mind. Memories of her humiliation trickled in, too, as her body awakened to a sexual hunger more fierce than any she'd known before. Torn between lifting her body onto his like she did last night to begin to dry hump the morning erection she could see lifting the sheet over them, or pushing away, tearing off her hand just to run, she instead froze in place, trying to calm her breathing. Holding back to not press herself against him as hard as she could manage took control of her entire realm of focus.

  "Sam, are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep, and, she hoped, his own frustrated state of arousal.

  "Fine.
Why?" she snipped, her voice a little deeper, a tad rougher than she'd even intended.

  She pushed up, and attempted to move away from him, only to be reminded by the grip of leather around her wrist that they were still cuffed together.

  "Fuck! Is this really necessary?" she yelled, lifting up her hand despite the ache of tender, irritated skin there. She shook their shackled hands above his face.

  "Look at you, you can't wait to run. Why in the world would I trust you to stay without it?" he countered, sitting up, towering over her, his breath bathing her face.

  She didn't even mind his morning breath as she stared over the hard muscles of his chest rather than look into his eyes.

  "How long are you going to treat me like a prisoner?"

  "As long as you act like a petulant child. Why are you so pissed this morning? Is it still fear over yesterday, or are you mad that I didn't take you when you wanted me to last night? That I didn't act like every other weak man and just take any pussy offered to me no matter what the consequences. If the first, I can assure you that you are safe. I promise I will do everything in my power to keep you that way, including cuffing you to me for life if that is what it takes. If it is the latter, you have to understand, I don't want cheap, meaningless sex with you. Lord fucking help me, I want more. And, for your information, that scares the shit out of me. So, be mad, but I'm not screwing this up for one night of sex. Fuck! I can't believe I am even saying such a thing. Samantha, I fall for no one, but I have somehow fallen for you. So while it is excruciating for me to not only admit to such a thing, but to have held back last night from taking you the way I desperately want to, I will admit it. To you. For you. You have to know by now, I would do anything for you. You just have to know that, if you know nothing else. I want to be your savior. I'm not sure why Ian called me that, or you, or even this Sylvia person, but in every sense of the word, I want to be that for you. Heaven help me, my animal has chosen a witch for a mate just when I'd come to terms with it never picking one. And, to top off that magical revelation, said witch is in danger, and has to run and hide away for who knows how long, and I, given my job, have to kidnap her to save her, because it is the only way she will stay with me. Can you at least stop a second and appreciate my torment in all of this."

  Sam sat with her mouth open, trying to find something to say as both lust and fury boiled up inside her. Her breathing labored, her stomach tightening into a ball, so lost in the feelings rushing through her that the ringing of Jacob's phone made her just about jump out of her skin.

  "Go ahead, Ian. I have you on speaker," Jacob said a bit too loudly over the phone.

  He flashed her a look as if to say he had nothing to hide, or that he wouldn't hide anything from her. She wasn't sure, other than he was trying to make a point for her to trust him. A million jumbled thoughts screamed through her mind as she listened to the conversation.

  Ian's muffled voice came back with, "Okay, then, hello to you both. Again, my apologies, Sam. I never meant for you to get caught up in my war. Had I known this situation would escalate this way, had I known there was even a chance, I'd have never agreed to Sylvia's plan, who by the way, told me to send her apologies. She wants you to know she never meant savior in such a literal sense. She is with your mom, and I am keeping them updated as to your safety. They know to act as if you are dead for everyone's safety, but I couldn't let them suffer with the lie. They do know you are alive. Anyway, Jacob, things continue to escalate here. While I know they are bluffing for information, the cougar pack is claiming that through their magical sources they know Sam is alive, and they are coming after her. We know that can't be the case, since her magic is still hidden. But I will take no chances, you know that. So, for precaution sake, and because I promised to do so, please take Sam to your lady friend in the theater that we spoke of. Get you both a full makeover, new identities, and then go far away. I don't want to know where. Destroy this phone. Amelia will give you a burner to use only to let me know you are safe once you hit your destination."

  Jacob simply hung up the phone, without so much as an acknowledgement of the plan, and took to destroying the phone. Nothing like in the movies, no hammer involved, just some opening, and she guessed maybe demagnetizing, not that she knew much about all of this stuff. And, she didn't bother to ask. Instead, she acted uninterested.

  "So, let's get dressed, we can grab something at a drive thru for breakfast on the way, and then we have about an hour's drive to reach Amelia. She's an old friend, member of the pride who moved away for love. However, she does costume and makeup for a local theater. So, with some connections to a man who does flawless work with fake ids, she has created a little side business for herself. She'll make us both over, give us new lives, and we will play along with them. I am hoping at some point to be able to un-cuff you and have you play along willingly. You have to realize that if you aren't with me you are dead. You heard Ian. If you got away from me, and your magic came back given proximity to spell or whatever, I don't claim to understand that, they would find you, kill you if you are lucky, and torture you if you are not. I'm not trying to be mean, but you have to understand the gravity of this situation at some point and get over your animosity or whatever it is you have for me, and save yourself by staying with me. As far as we go, what has been said, what hasn't happened... I won't apologize again. You know how I feel about you now, and do with that what you will. I hope at some point you can trust me enough to just stay, not just so that you can stay alive, but because you want to. I hope to see the day."

  "If you are trying to scare me, it is working. Let's just get going. I'm not only starving, but I'm a stress eater, if you couldn't tell."

  "Don't do that."

  She just glared at him.

  "Samantha, don't sell yourself short. You are perfect in my eyes. Sexy. Charming, well, usually. Apparently I am free to like you now. I don't have to hide it anymore. What you and Ian had was some kind of...well I'm not sure what. Some day you can explain it all to me. What I do know is that I want you, exactly as you are. And, I'm free to do that. Your curves, well...well we should get going before I go there. Remind me when we are safe to talk to you about them."

  He grumbled to himself as he began to move off the bed, tugging her with him.

  She wanted to believe him. She wanted to let go. She wanted to just let him protect her so she could stop feeling afraid, but it didn't suit her stubborn personality. Maybe her mother had been right, Lord forbid. Maybe she was her own worst enemy when it came to love. What she did want, more than anything, was the target off her back. The idea of losing her studio hurt, and running away from her life wounded just as much. Her mom may have been a pain, but she loved her, and Sam had tons of friends she would miss terribly. She was even partial to her own hair color. However, she was even more interested in staying alive. Sacrifices would have to be made in order to stay that way.

  A pang of guilt gripped her heart as she remembered again that people had already died in their effort to save her. She needed to get over whatever this was: fear, embarrassment, lust, or maybe just sheer rebellion at having to give up her life and freedom. She needed to just go along and be grateful.

  She made her way off the bed, working with Jacob, trying to hide her own smile at the look of surprise in his eyes. Playing off that feeling, that mere few seconds of happiness, of having done something right with the man, who she had to stop denying she had feelings for, especially since he'd come so clean with her, she continued on, determined to be a more willing prisoner. She walked over with him to the suitcase, grabbing the very non-descript pair of jeans, white t-shirt, and gray sweatshirt combo that laid on top for her.

  Experiencing a moment of rebellion, she channeled it into messing with the man she was cuffed to, starting to undress right there in front of him. T-shirt off and now dangling from the cuffs, standing in just her underwear, she turned to him in time to see his eyes wide, and hear his intake of breath that made her nipples pebble.


  "I'm going to need some help here. Maybe un-cuff me and lock me in the bathroom again so I can actually get dressed?"

  He shook his head, but didn't move, his gaze fixed on her breasts, flashing briefly down over her stomach to her panties. While they were not exactly sexy, they were not granny panties either.

  "Are you going to say something, or move, anytime soon, Jacob?" she said, liking the buoyancy to her emotions of feeling in control, even if in a little way, in that she could turn the eye of this man. Maybe he had been telling the truth about how he felt about her.

  "Come on, Jacob, be my savior. Help me get dressed for our first official day of being on the run."

  "Sorry, I'm just..."

  "Just what," she teased in a rather bitchy sort of way as she turned to face him, standing just inches from his body, placing her free hand on the hip she popped out.

  "I'm just fighting a war within myself."

  "Winning or losing?"

  "I don't know yet."

  "What if I play the odds," she said, tipping her head to one side as she stepped up to him, her nipples now brushing against his still bare chest.

  The rush of electricity from her chest to her core curled her toes, caught her breath, made her realize she'd win this game depending upon how she looked at it.

  He grabbed her sides, his hands settling lightly at her generous waist, not pulling her in or pushing her away. They stood in a suspended silence, the only sound in the room the combination of their labored breathing. His hands slid up her ribs, stopping and grasping her tighter not even an inch from where the bottom of her heavy breasts hung. She could feel the heat of his thumps, the surge of his energy. Magic bound or not, energy, raw and powerful, conspired between them, where they touched, where they didn't, where their bodies teased each other with torturously close proximity.