by Kyle, Celia
Could she do the same? Was it that easy?
“No. It’s not.” Carly pulled her attention from Harding. “It’s hard and it hurts and there are days you want to hide from the world… And then I look at Neal and realize that every second of pain was worth being in his arms. You’re a survivor, Tess.”
“Like Destiny’s Child.” Maya nodded. “Totally. But without the awesome asses. Because, really, I’m not even a lesbian and I was tempted by that badunka-dunk. Just sayin’.”
Tess snorted.
“Hey now.” Carly stuck out her tongue. “The point is: you don’t need your big girl panties because Harding would appreciate you going commando. We love you. The pride will love you once we get you added to the roster—”
“Remember we’re letting Alex ‘officially’ do that.” Maya hiccupped.
“—And we promise that once you’re mated, you won’t be crazy. We’re Harding’s friends, right? We wouldn’t let him stick his dick in crazy. Promise.”
Tess wasn’t sure how to take Carly’s words, but she kinda got their point-ish.
She hoped they were right.
“Oh, I’m totally right.” Her skepticism had to have shown since Carly waved away Tess’s worries. “It’s, like, a rule. Women are always right, and if the men say we’re wrong, the doors to Vaginaville are permanently closed. But I do let Neal in for good behavior. Lotsa tongue action.” Carly winked at Tess.
Tess stared at Harding once again, drinking in the sight of him. She didn’t see his scars, inflicted by his own family, and only saw the man who wanted her. Not because of lust or some crazed emotion, but because she was his mate. That hint of beast inside her rumbled in approval, its wavering animal form urging her to go to him. He was the only one to call to that small part of her, the only one who could quiet the voices with his mere presence, and the only man she’d ever been comfortable with.
“Okay.” She whispered the word, forcing the air from her lungs, but the shifters heard the low syllables nonetheless. She wasn’t saying okay to forever right this second, but she was willing to let herself go to Harding and ask for more. More of what, she didn’t know, just more. A round of “woo hoos” went around, and then the two ladies were gathering their purses and scooching around the booth. “What are you guys doing?”
Carly rolled her eyes. “Duh. We timed this so damned perfectly we should get a medal. Check out the front door.”
Tess turned and saw two large males entering, each man emitting an aura of dominance and power. Those two turned toward their small corner, and heat flared in their eyes. It was one of sex personified mixed with a possessiveness that rivaled Harding’s.
She knew Alex, and Carly was quick to provide the name of the other male. “There’s my cowboy, Neal.” The rabbit leaned forward and planted a sloppy kiss on her cheek. “Now, go rock Harding’s world and we’ll see ya in a few days at the next run. But no starting the run. It annoys Alex and then he gives Maya a spanking.”
Maya gripped her hand. “Start it. Please. I beg you.” Alex snared her and swung the giggling Prima into his arms. “Bye!” She waved, smiling over her mate’s shoulder as he wove through the crowd and back to the front door.
Neal swooped in and wrangled a swaying Carly. In moments, it was just Tess standing near their table while Harding remained at the bar.
He held out his hand, palm up and fingers stretched toward her. “Ready?”
Renewed nerves pummeled her with worries. Joking and laughing about letting the past fall away was one thing. Opening herself up to potential hurt was another. On trembling legs, she closed the distance between them and rested her hand on his palm. “Sure.”
“Good.” Harding tugged her closer, pulling her until they stood chest to chest. Well, her chest to his chest-slash-abdomen. Ches-domen. “Let’s go home.”
Home. Home sounded really, really good.
Tess followed him through the bar. Wow, they really had been partying for a while, since the previously overflowing room was now nearly empty. Harding tugged her through the doorway and into the dim parking lot. Giggles, laughs, screeches, and a definitively sexual moan met them the moment they were outside.
The door behind them continued squeaking as each customer vacated the place, the squeal and clunk of the portal swinging open and closed mingling with the women’s noises.
“Hey! No sex in the parking lot! There’s a sign, people!” Tess turned toward the voice and found the owner, Honey, pointing at a white sign bolted to a light pole. A sign that actually said “No sex in the parking lot.”
Maya’s low “bitch” was discernible even to Tess’s mostly-human hearing.
God, was this what normal felt like? Smiles? Laughs? She looked around the open area, noting the two couples, each male teasing and toying with their respective mates as they stumbled toward their vehicles. Even Honey was cuddled up to her hedgehog mate, Blake. A gentle squeeze on Tess’s fingers reminded her that she had something similar with Harding.
She looked up at him. “Take me home?”
She wouldn’t—couldn’t—mate him yet, but there was always other stuff. Other stuff that didn’t involve teeth and changing her from skin and bones to fur and fang.
“Sure, sweet.” He tugged her to the left, toward their dark SUV that sat beneath the dim glow of a street lamp. His feet were quiet on the asphalt, a low, dull thud that warred with the continued merriment behind them. The joy at the women’s acceptance still filled her to overflowing. She’d never been hugged or squeezed or given a sloppy kiss merely because. Her life had revolved around fear and pain so this…this was nice. More than nice. Insanely, I-love-my-life awesome.
They stood beside the SUV, Tess leaning against the cool, shining metal while Harding held the door open for her. She slid past him, their bodies barely skimming one another, and then she hopped (literally) into the seat. Yet Harding remained in place. His gaze was intent on her, eyes sliding into the palest blue hues as he continued to stare.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” He skimmed her cheek with callused fingertips. “At all?”
“Harding…” She didn’t know what to say or how to respond. Kindness, attraction, lov—ahem, she’d stick with attraction—filled her. It was weird and different and new and… Oh. Harding’s lips were suddenly on hers, tongue tracing the seam of her mouth until she opened and granted him access. Their tongues twined and danced in an alluring rhythm while his flavors slithered into her. He was so sweet and dark and tempting. She’d follow the man to hell for one more kiss, one more touch of his fingers on her skin. Her body craved him like a drug, and she decided that he wasn’t a habit she wanted to kick. Ever.
He crowded her further, sliding his hips between her knees and forcing her legs to spread wide. He wrapped his arms around her waist, hands resting above the curve of her ass as his heat enveloped her. She was surrounded by him, his body her whole focus, as he plundered her mouth. The last time she’d been conscious and this close to him, she’d quickly bolted. She’d been afraid of her feelings and the potential results of her actions. Now…now she could hardly remember her objections.
Harding moaned against her lips, and she echoed the sound. Tess pulled on his shirt, tugging him closer, aching to feel even more of his heat. She craved more, that hint of animal inside her agreeing whole-heartedly. More, more, more, more…
Another moan from Harding. She rocked her hips forward and felt the strength of his arousal. This tugged a groan from the lion, but it was quickly silenced, cut off when Harding ripped his lips from hers. He released an echoing roar into the night, the sound vibrating against the SUV and bouncing around the parking lot. It sliced through the sounds coming from the other couples still lingering. The ragged noise was followed by silence. He turned from her and dropped to his knees as he freed yet another roar, deeper and stronger than before. He clutched his head, palms pressed against his temples as his fingers pushed against his skull.
God. Not again.
They’d broken everyone up; they’d taken care of things. They were supposed to be happy and safe and…
The next deafening roar seemed to have been wrenched from his very soul, nearly turning him inside out with its intensity.
Tess dropped to the ground beside him and reached for him, intent on banishing this lingering threat. She’d find the person and punish them for what they’d done to her Harding. But first she had to lock the person out of Harding’s mind. Permanently.
She cradled his head, palms resting on his temples, and she forced his gaze to meet hers. “I’m going to fix this, Harding.”
An anguished howl escaped Harding and his face snapped and popped as the lion pushed forward. The man couldn’t help, so obviously the cat thought it could do better.
Tess took one last look at her mate, memorizing his features. Then she closed her eyes and prayed.
Prayed she could help him.
Prayed she’d get a chance to love him.
Prayed she didn’t fry his brain.
*
Was he breathing? He didn’t think so. No, his lungs burned and his throat was closed. His chest heaved in an effort to draw in air, but there was none for him. There was no air left. Pain. Dear God, pain overwhelmed him, pummeling him with its intensity. The fire in his chest was joined by razor-edged shards of agony.
His world became a sea of black with shades of grey trolling within the tumultuous darkness. Each roll of the shadowy mass sent another jarring bolt of pain through him. His mind was fully focused on the roiling ball of pure evil that had crept into him1.
And he was drowning in it. Drowning in the anger, the physical agony and mental anguish that accompanied the oily presence inside him.
A presence.
An intruder.
Yes, that was why he hurt. The person was back. The man that was Millie, but wasn’t. The one who’d been trying to hurt him over and over again.
An arm coated in the slinky oil of hate struck out at him, scattering droplets within Harding’s mind. He roared in response, snarling and growling and returning the strike with one of his own. Only it wasn’t his hand that attempted to inflict a wound, it was fur and claw. His cat. His cat had taken over, pulled his human consciousness into its feline body to protect him.
The viscous mass shifted and snarled at him, twisting this way and that. The heat of its loathing increased and expanded, filling him with emotions. Yet the midnight ball reformed, globs of the oil falling away to leave an almost human body. It was still coated in the moving robes of hatred, but it resembled a man more than a writhing ball.
The fur on the lion’s body stood on end, the cat watching the intruder. He picked his way around the puddles of hate, unwilling to discover how his body would react to touching the substance.
The presence struck out at him again, flinging droplets of those acidic emotions with the movement. Harding ducked and jumped to the side, barely avoiding the blow.
But he couldn’t do that forever. Fighting was what he did, but Harding couldn’t figure out how to defeat this enemy. How could he fight someone who was there, yet not?
Another glob of deadly emotion came at him and he jumped aside, but not quite fast enough. Stinging droplets burned into his coat, and the pads of his paws slipped into even more of the acidic oil. He hissed and spit at his attacker, baring his long fangs.
The intruder didn’t seem to notice. No, he simply repeated the move and sent another ball flying through the air.
Yet despite the pain, there seemed to be a glimmering light at the end of the tunnel signaling an end to the torment. Each flinging strike thinned the globulus fluid until some of the darkness lightened and gave way to the peach hints of skin.
Intellectually he’d known the intruder was a person, not just some thing that attacked, yet…
And yet he didn’t see the next mass flying at him, slicing through the air and heading straight for his head. It encompassed his face, slinking over his pale fur and sinking into his body. He roared and screamed, the cat overlaying the man as the pure, bone-deep agony overtook him.
“I’m going to fix this, Harding.”
The words sanded the sharpest edges of his pain, and then familiar hands were there. They stroked his fur and dug into the gelatinous fluid that clung to him. With quick, jerky tugs, the blackness was tossed away, turning into midnight smoke before it could form a new puddle.
The evil presence lumbered forward, its steps slow and measured, each one graceful yet heavy.
With the bonds of loathing scattered, Harding stumbled to the ground, his legs no longer able to hold his weight. He hadn’t realized how hard he’d been fighting the monumental emotions until they were lifted from him. He slumped to the side, paws sliding from beneath him, and he rested his head on the oily ground.
“I’m going to fix this, Harding.”
Tess stood between him and the attacker, her small, curvaceous body the only barrier that lingered between Harding and endless torment.
“This isn’t happening asshole.” Her voice echoed within his mind, bouncing off his mental walls.
The presence roared. No, trumpeted, the sound familiar but not.
A ball of sticky blackness flew through the air, heading straight for his mate, and he scratched at the ground. His muscles protested, screaming at him, but he crawled through the pain. Had to keep her safe. Had to protect her. Had to…
Had to do nothing. Tess seemed to catch the pulsing sphere of emotions, twist and turn them, and the oily mass scattered. The blackened bits were solid now, tiny marbles that rolled over the ground.
Each puddle they touched solidified and froze. The midnight hue lightened, easing from black to grey and on to a blinding, shining white.
The attacker trumpeted in rage, and Tess emitted a sound he’d never heard before.
His mate roared.
The bellow bounced off the walls, shattering the sparkling pockets of light she’d created. It vibrated his entire consciousness, shaking him to his core, and he could only watch the events unfold.
The presence attacked again, more oil-like blackness hurling through the air, only for Tess to capture the bit as if it were light as a feather. With each lob, the lightness of the man’s skin became more visible. More peach-tinged flesh emerged, and Harding searched for any hint of the man’s identity.
He didn’t have Tess’s power, couldn’t sense the mental flavors of a person with a glancing touch of minds, but he wasn’t blind. He hoped his mate could expose enough of the man to identify him… So Harding could slice him into bite-sized pieces.
Asshole Tartare.
Still the man lumbered closer, but Tess held her ground, legs braced shoulder-width apart and hands at her sides. Those slim fingers wiggled, twitching in an entrancing rhythm while the attacker neared.
A groaning whine built in Harding’s throat, both he and his cat objecting to the lessening distance between their mate and danger. Because…because she wasn’t just their mate any longer. It was more and bigger and deeper and—
A crackling energy rent the air, stroking his fur with an inhuman hand and easing through his mane in a gentle yet agitating caress.
“I’m going to fix this, Harding.”
The question was: how would she fix it?
Tess glowed, the brightening light coming from deep within her and sliding free into his mind. She pulsed with the energy and power that increased with every beat of his heart. Her hands remained passive at her sides, but the sparking extended to her fingers and danced between the digits.
“You can stop this now. Before it goes any further.” Her voice was deep and booming, a hint of growl tingeing each word. His mate had a beast whether she wanted to face that fact or not. “Let go. You’re not gonna win this. Move on, and no one will hunt you down. It’s over.”
Move on? Never. Harding would see the man dead and bleeding as soon as possible.
Apparently the lumbering male realized it as well, and continued to app
roach Tess until he seemed to be right on top of her.
Harding damned his inability to protect Tess, raged at his body’s reaction to that hate-tainted oil that had sapped all of his strength. He should be the one protecting her. He should be shielding her with his body. He should…
A deafening boom rattled his bones, pushing against his skull until the pressure grew and grew. His head was going to explode, any moment it’d be overcome by the force of the sound. He closed his eyes, fighting the nausea-inducing agony that accompanied the noise, but a flaring light burned past his eyelids.
Tess.
Electricity invaded his cat’s body, his muscles twitching in response to the side effects of his mate’s attack. He pried his eyes open and watched as the hatred coating the intruder was burned away amidst shrieks and trumpeting roars of protest. More and more of the oily blackness flared and then disappeared to reveal skin.
The glow nearly blinded him, but he soon saw a man sans the midnight coating standing in front of Tess, her body blocking him from full view. But just because he couldn’t see, didn’t mean he couldn’t hear.
“It’s over, Ben.”
Chapter Eight
“Mistakes happen. You need to figure out how to turn your mistakes into someone else’s.” — Maya O’Connell, Prima of the Ridgeville Pride and woman who has decided that her twins are good for something: taking the blame…for everything.
Snippets of the fight returned to Tess the barest moment before agony overtook her. It writhed through her veins, pummeling her from inside out, the strength growing with every breath. Her body rebelled against the pain, fighting to push it from her, and her stomach heaved, anxious to rid herself of the taint.
Rolling to her side, she opened her mouth and let it rise along her throat, burning as it pushed past her lips. She didn’t open her eyes, didn’t want to see what had actually come from within her.
Because she knew.
Dear God, she knew.
Hate and anger that heavy couldn’t be contained, and it’d somehow seeped into her as she’d banished Ben from Harding’s mind.