by Zoe Chant
Chapter 44
Conall found the gazelle grazing at her favorite lawn, the ocean rippling just over the cliff in the late afternoon light.
“Gizelle,” he said, sitting wearily at the edge of the lawn where the garden started. He didn’t want to chase her, or make her feel trapped. It was the third lawn he’d checked, and he was starting to appreciate exactly how steep the island was.
He was glad to see the gazelle come towards him, head down in the grass as if the grazing was the more serious business. Finally, she lifted her head, within arm’s reach if he stretched, and considered him thoughtfully.
For a moment, Conall was confused.
It wasn’t Gizelle.
Not really.
It was the gazelle, not Gizelle who looked back at him. It didn’t feel the same as the way he looked out from his shifted form.
“Gizelle?” he asked tentatively.
The gazelle tossed her head and snorted.
Conall offered his hand anyway, and the gazelle put a tentative nose to his palm and tickled it with her breath. Though he braced himself to hear, no sounds broke through the barrier of silence with this touch.
Gizelle was in there, he knew. Somewhere.
And just as he had waited for her to touch him the first time, he could wait again for her to find her way back to him.
He peeled off his clothing and folded it neatly on a bench, then shifted to graze with the gazelle.
We haven’t done this in a long while, his elk said, stretching long legs and tossing his heavy head.
We should do it more often, Conall agreed.
For a long, slow afternoon, he grazed with the gazelle, enjoying the sun that beat on his dark coat and the peaceful, sweet air.
Evening fell, and the sun sank quickly into the sea. Conall marveled at how beautiful it could look, even without being able to see reds. The purples and blues of the twilight that followed were more intense than ever, and the lights of the resort behind them were enchanting.
He settled onto his knees, prepared to wait out the mild night, if that’s what it took, and to his joy, the gazelle came and curled against his side.
They drowsed that way for a while, then, abruptly, the din of the evening rushed back. The form at his side gave a little sigh and shifted into Gizelle.
Conall kept his elk’s form a little longer, enjoying the warmth of her on his hide and the new sounds of the insects and the breeze. Then he shifted, and held her close against him as they sat together in the darkness. She trembled against him.
“I will come back,” he promised. “I will always come back.”
“I know,” Gizelle whispered. If he hadn’t been hearing through her own ears, he might not have heard it at all. “I know you will, it just scares me so much that you might not.”
I would bring him back to you, Conall’s elk assured her directly. He would have no choice.
“I wouldn’t,” Conall confirmed. “He’s a terrible bully and his is the only voice I can hear without you.”
Chapter 45
Gizelle wasn’t sure if she was trembling or shivering. The night air was cool to her human skin, and Conall’s arms were warm. When he kissed her, she forgot to be cold, and his fingers on her bare skin heated up much more than they should be able to.
There was just enough light from the strings of Christmas bulbs above the bench to see each other with. His shoulders were so broad and full of interesting planes, and his cheek was so fascinatingly covered with stubble.
There wasn’t enough light to see the blue of his eyes, but they were bright for her.
“How can you look at me that way?” she asked in wonder.
“Which way?” Conall asked, drinking her in.
“Like I’m... beautiful.”
“Because you’re beautiful,” Conall said without hesitation.
“But I’m so skinny and pale and knobby,” Gizelle said in despair. She wanted curves, and comfortable skin, like Magnolia.
“You are perfect,” Conall insisted. “And you have clearly not been exposed to many fashion magazines. Let me show you.”
He put a finger on her cheek. “Women wear makeup to give them cheekbones half this beautiful.” He kissed them solemnly, one and then the other.
“A swan wishes it had a neck so perfect,” he said, kissing down her neck.
“Lydia’s a swan,” Gizelle giggled breathlessly.
His mouth found her collarbone, and his hands explored lower. “Your breasts are my ideal in shape and they fill up a hand just like they should,” he told her, cupping one and using a finger to define the profile of the other. Gizelle had to hiss her breath in as he passed her nipple. It was hard as a pebble, and she knew it wasn’t only from the chill that she’d already forgotten about.
Then he laid her back in the grass and kissed them, sucking and nibbling his way down to her belly. “There is an industry of health clubs that make millions from women who dream of a belly so flat and fit.”
And after that, he didn’t say anything, only worshiped her body with his mouth until she was pulling at his shoulders and wordlessly begging him to take her.
“I didn’t bring a condom,” he said, denying her whimpered request for the hard cock that was brushing her thighs. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have satisfaction.”
Then he dipped his head and licked into her eager folds and Gizelle arched up in shock and delight. His tongue was agile and impossible and unexpectedly intimate as it explored her, and Gizelle had to grab fistfuls of grass and cry out as he suckled at her until pleasure washed over her.
For a long moment afterwards, she could only lie and pant as he kissed her back to calm.
“But what about you?” she asked, when she had breath again. His cock was hard and thick between them as he lay beside her.
“It can be just about you this time,” Conall insisted.
But when she reached to touch him, caressing the length of him, he hissed and flinched.
“Can I kiss you there, too?” Gizelle asked. “Because that was fun.”
“I’d... like... that.” She was still touching him gently, and it was clearly causing complications in his speech.
She scooted down until she could kiss it in earnest, first laying butterfly kisses all over it, then drawing the head into her mouth with her tongue.
Conall groaned, shifting his hips and brushing his fingers into her hair.
“Gizelle,” he moaned, but Gizelle’s mouth was too busy to answer.
He was dauntingly large, but she could lick and suck and coax the beautiful thing further into her mouth than she had thought possible.
Then, while she was still figuring out how best to make it fit, Conall made a guttural noise, and clenched his hand in her hair. His elk bugled in triumph and her mouth was unexpectedly filling with his hot, salty seed.
“Mph,” she said, sitting up after the last waves of his release had eased. She licked her lips curiously.
“You,” Conall said firmly. “Are amazing.”
Gizelle decided that she liked being amazing.
Chapter 46
As Conall passed the bar deck the following morning, he was startled by a hand on his arm. “Scarlet needs to see you in her office right away,” Travis told him.
“I’ll swing by her office after I’ve...”
“No, she meant now,” Travis said urgently.
Conall blinked at him. “Alright,” he agreed reluctantly. “But if you see Gizelle, tell her where I am.”
Travis nodded, and gave him what Conall thought might be a pitying look. It didn’t bother him as much as it usually would.
As Conall took the flight of steps that led to Scarlet’s office at the top of the resort, it occurred to him that some of the things he had ordered might have arrived early.
The courtyard outside of the manager’s office was indeed, filled with boxes. Conall paused to look at the shipping labels, grinning as he thought about Gizelle’s reaction to them.
; “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you these were coming,” he said, entering Scarlet’s office. “I’m expecting a few more that...” He stopped in alarm.
Sitting across from Scarlet was a familiar figure, smartly dressed in a lightweight silk pantsuit, her hair done perfectly.
“Mother?!”
“Conall!” she said as she turned and both women stood. She signed, “I’ve come to help you out of whatever mess you’re in.”
“Everything is fine,” Conall assured her out loud with a glance for Scarlet.
His mother’s eyes narrowed. “When everything is fine,” she said, abandoning the sign language, “you don’t up and attempt to sell a business that made the cover of Time magazine and run away to a half-rate foreign island for some little gold digger.”
Conall looked past her. “You’ve met my mother, Aideen?” he said mildly to Scarlet.
“It’s been a pleasure,” Scarlet said. Her face was carefully neutral in a way that made Conall suspect she was seething. His mother tended to do that to people. “I was just explaining that we didn’t have any accommodations currently available for guests to simply drop in. This is our busiest time of year.”
“And I,” Aideen added smoothly, “was explaining that I would stay with you. You can certainly afford any surcharge necessary.”
Now both women were looking at Conall, and he was beginning to understand Gizelle’s regular impulse to simply shift and run away.
They abruptly looked past him, and Conall turned to find a gazelle skittering into the courtyard. Before he could find some way to warn her—of what he wasn’t even sure—she had shifted seamlessly into her human form. “Oh, Conall!” she said in excitement, coming to tug on his arm. “Travis and Wrench are putting the Christmas tree up at the event hall! Bastian is going to put a star on top! You have to come see!”
“Gizelle,” he said cautiously, not budging. “This is my mother.”
She stopped pulling on him and stared at Aideen. “A mother?” she said in wonder. “You have a mother?”
Aideen stared back at her.
“Mother,” Conall said patiently. “This is Gizelle.”
“You’re not wearing any clothing,” his mother said severely.
Gizelle met her disapproving gaze with a lifted chin. “That is the least of my oddities,” she promised.
“I see,” Aideen said dryly. “It’s nice to meet you,” she added, and she extended a polite hand to Gizelle, who promptly darted behind Conall.
“I don’t do that,” she said from behind him.
Conall could feel the tremor in her slight body, pressed up behind him. “You don’t have to do that,” he said protectively.
That earned him a narrow look from his mother. “You heard her,” she said in surprise.
Gizelle peered around him and said proudly. “He can use my ears, if we’re touching.”
Aideen’s mouth went thoughtfully thin. “How curious,” she said, as neutral as Scarlet’s face. “That certainly explains some things.” To Conall, she added, “I brought the item you asked your assistant to mail. I certainly wasn’t going to trust it to a service.”
She gestured to an instrument case, and something in Conall’s chest did a flip-flop. Gizelle trailed behind him cautiously as he went to inspect it, frowning over a scuff on the bag.
He felt as if he was trembling like Gizelle as he knelt to unzip it, though his hands were steady.
Gizelle peeked over his shoulder as he pulled the guitar out, fingers reverent over the glossy neck and inlaid mother-of-pearl.
“What a pretty guitar,” Gizelle breathed near his ear. “Will you play it for me?”
A strum across the strings made a terrible noise; even if he hadn’t loosened the tension for long-term storage, it had been unused for ten years and wouldn’t have been in tune anyway.
Gizelle winced. “I like Tex’s better,” she said dismissively.
“That’s a Zemaitis,” his mother said, appalled. “That particularly instrument is insured for a hundred thousand dollars.”
Conall didn’t have to see Gizelle’s blank gaze to know what she looked like. She wouldn’t know what a Zemaitis was, or probably what insurance was. She might not even know what dollars were; the resort was all-inclusive, and no one here used money.
Scarlet cleared her throat. “If Mrs. Wright is staying, I will need her signature on the policies agreement.”
“Fine,” Conall said shortly, still caressing his beloved instrument. He started tuning it, then Gizelle withdrew her hand from his arm and the sound cut off like he’d lost a limb.
Later, he promised the guitar, zipping it back into the case as his mother, triumphant, signed the papers that Scarlet gave her.
“Let me show you the way,” he told Aideen. “The staff can bring your bags later.” He gathered up the guitar himself.
“And the tree!” Gizelle remembered. “You have to come see the Christmas tree!” She scampered out ahead of them.
“Can she please put on some clothing first?” Aideen asked in a strangled voice.
Chapter 47
Conall’s mother seemed much more comfortable with Gizelle once she’d found the spare dress that Tex kept behind the bar, and Gizelle was glad for that.
His mother.
Gizelle could see that they had similar cheekbones, and she had dark hair like Conall did, but most fascinating of all, she had the same sky blue eye color, even though she was not the same person behind them. Her nose, however, was much different, and her mouth, a perfect shade of lipstick red, was utterly alien.
“Why is she staring at me?” Aideen asked Conall.
“I’ve never seen a mother before,” Gizelle answered for him.
“This will be your room, Mother,” Conall said, ignoring both of them. Gizelle wasn’t touching him; maybe he hadn’t noticed the exchange.
“Isn’t it lucky you got a two-bedroom cottage,” Aideen said airily.
“It was the last one they had available when I made the reservation,” Conall explained shortly.
“This place boasts its fine gourmet food,” Aideen said. “And I’m famished. Show me to the restaurant, dear. We can all get to know each other over a nice meal.”
Conall looked at Gizelle in alarm. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said reluctantly, and Gizelle knew he was thinking about their first disastrous dinner.
But she’d come a long way since then.
“That’s okay,” Gizelle insisted. “I can do that.”
“Are you sure?” Conall asked.
“I’ll leave the doors of time closed,” Gizelle assured him. “And I promise not to shift.”
“What about the Christmas tree?” Did Conall sound slightly desperate?
“They are leaving it up until New Year’s,” Gizelle said. “I can show you later.”
Like a man resigned to disaster, Conall offered each of them an elbow. “Let’s go have dinner,” he said.
Breck was surprised to see them. “Gizelle,” he said slowly. “Conall,” even more slowly. Then, “Ma’am?”
“Have you got a good table for us?” Conall asked. Gizelle was not sure that he had ever sounded so stiff.
Breck swallowed, looking out over the crowded restaurant. “I’m... not sure.”
“Don’t be foolish,” Aideen said crossly. “There are plenty of empty tables. Put us there!” She pointed imperiously at a table in the center.
“Oh, no,” Conall and Breck said together.
“Let me find you a corner,” Breck said with a flash of his best charming smile for Aideen. “Only the best for family of our favorite Irish Elk.”
Aideen seemed pleased with that as the waiter disappeared into the din.
Gizelle watched the room, fascinated. It was noisy, but it was noisy like the ocean; a rolling din of sound, not sharp and loud like she had feared.
“Are you okay with this?” Conall asked quietly near Gizelle’s ear.
She smiled at him. “I ca
n do it,” she whispered back.
Breck came back and led them to a table that was not exactly quiet, but was at least on the edge of the room. He held the chair for Aideen, who sat down as gracefully as a swan. Was she a dancer like Lydia? Gizelle wondered.
“Are you all right?” Conall asked, still standing with her as Gizelle realized she was staring again and that Breck was holding a chair for her.
She looked up at Conall. His blue eyes were worried for her. She smiled slowly, because she loved the way that they softened when she did. “I got this,” she said, and she sat gingerly in the chair Breck was holding and tried to mimic Aideen’s effortless elegance. Conall sat last. Breck had cleverly put Aideen closest to Gizelle so that he would be able to see both their faces without looking back and forth and he wouldn’t need to hold her hand.
“So Gizelle, my dear,” Aideen said, after they had placed their requests for drinks. “Tell me all about yourself.”
Gizelle tucked her feet up on the chair with her, forgetting to copy Aideen’s manners. “I don’t know much about myself,” she said honestly. “But I am about this tall and I like to run.”
“Mm,” said Aideen, not impressed. “Where are you from?”
“Nobody knows,” Gizelle said mournfully. “I don’t remember anything before Tony and Neal set us all loose from the zoo.”
It was Aideen’s turn to stare. “The... zoo?”
“There was a collector,” Conall explained for her. “He was kidnapping exotic shifters and keeping them in a... menagerie.”
“How dreadful!” Aideen said in horror. “You poor thing!”
Gizelle smiled tentatively. “I... don’t remember it,” she insisted, but when she reached for her water glass, her hand was trembling, so she sat on it instead.
There was a moment of silence that even Gizelle’s poor social skills could recognize as awkward.
Aideen politely said, “So, I understand you’re a gazelle shifter.”
“Yes,” Gizelle said softly. “We like to run.” She cast about for something interesting to add. “Oh, I can hypnotize people.”