To Handle A Hellcat (Southern Sanctuary Book 12)

by Jane Cousins

  And let’s not forget in her particular case it would also involve Nell’s disappointment, expressed via lots of deep sighs. And potentially might earn Darcy one of her mother’s patented stern nonsensical lectures that tended to follow a definite trend - be more patient, try to be kinder, be more thoughtful and don’t get blood on my good carpets. Hah, she always went to her happy place when Sarah went into lecture mode.

  Personally, Darcy had never considered Declan family. He had been too different than her array of male cousins and brothers growing up. Watchful, thoughtful, kind, fair, a little standoffish from the female cousins, quietly funny and skittish of strangers.

  He was a fixture in her childhood, more so from the age of nine when he began attending school. But even there he had tended to stay in the background, observing, generally smiling but never really throwing himself into the pell mell mix anywhere but on the stage or on the sporting field.

  There hadn’t been a team sport on offer that he didn’t try out for and shine. Water polo, football, cricket, volleyball and an array of others. He might have been teased about his good looks on the field but he also managed to earn the respect of his peers and opponents alike. More often than not walking away with an award for most valuable player or best on field.

  And when he looked for approval from the stands during a match, his gaze would zero in on his two Dads, sitting there, rain, hail or shine, glowing with pride, clapping themselves hoarse.

  Hmm, but Darcy was a master at her craft, there were plenty of payback options that wouldn’t leave a mark. But as she walked along, the sun shining down, the birds cooing softly overhead, the scent of blossoming spring flowers saturating the air, Darcy found her anger melting away. If she put herself in Copper Yanez’s palm leaf bikini she couldn’t exactly empathise, that would be stretching things, but she could completely relate and respect her actions.

  And as for Declan? Well, it had been kind of funny, strung up in the net together. Most men would have panicked or been frozen with fear if they found themselves in such close contact with the legendary Southern Sanctuary Special Liaison. Not Declan. He’d retained his sense of humour, proved himself useful, if a little handsy. And he’d kept her relatively calm and completely focused on the problem at hand. Rather than allowing her to dissolve into an icy fit of killing rage, ignited by Copper’s sheer audacity at corrupting her trap and using it against her.

  “So what’s next on the agenda, my Noir Mistress of Mayhem?”

  “I’ve had enough of nature for today. Now we head back to my office and see if we can’t find evidence of a money trail. Incubus services aren’t cheap. You add the appearance fee to the services rendered fee and its pretty exorbitant. Although they corporate the whole paid for sex thing up and call it a consultation.”

  Declan gently brushed aside a wild daisy bush that tried to engulf him in a hug. “And just how would you know that?”

  Darcy glanced back, meeting a violet gaze that was definitely not focused on her tight ass, and felt an unusual sense of disquiet ripple through her and begin to nibble at her ego. Why wasn’t Declan paying attention to her ass? Was he so spoilt by the Goddess-level perfection of the type of women that he hung out with that a mere semi-mortal woman’s curves didn’t rate even a low level leer?

  Well, that kind of stung. What? What the bloody hell was she thinking? She did not care if Declan checked out her ass or not. Especially in this context. He was the student, she, his examiner. Damn, and now he was acting the grown-up here, and she, the whiney girlie-girl, requiring some kind of validation from a man. See, aggravating beyond measure.

  “The Incubus King sends out a brochure every season showcasing his stock. The Spring catalogue, the Winter catalogue… that kind of thing. My personal favourite is the Halloween special feature. Quite the fantasy pictorial.”

  Declan cleared his throat, fighting the urge to rub his gut as a spike of jealously tore through him. Keep it casual, keep smiling. “So, you ever been tempted?”

  “By what?” Darcy stepped over a root, and ducked under a low hanging branch.

  “To engage the services of one of the fantasy specials?”

  “Ick. No. They might look all glossy and edible, but underneath it all they are still Demons. And I’d never be able to stop thinking about how they see me as nothing more than a walking bank account.”

  Declan’s gut calmed and the smile on his face widened slightly, genuinely amused once more. Okay, so they’d head back to Darcy’s office, if he played this right he could finagle dinner with her too. Call in for take-away, his treat.

  He didn’t want to jinx anything, but today was turning out to be kind of stellar. Walking through the forest with Darcy, trapped in that net, dinner together in their future.

  He heard the crackle of broken twigs first, the wind shifting suddenly, bringing a new scent… alien to the surrounds. What was that? Roses, lemon myrtle and bergamot, not something you naturally find in combination unless it was in a… perfume. Damn, they were about to have company.

  Darcy stopped suddenly. She’d heard something and so had Declan, his attention off to the left, it was coming from that direction. Something large was moving through the undergrowth. Shit, a creature-feature? She was just about to pull her Kukri blades when a breathless feminine voice drifted their way.

  “Yoo-hoo.”

  Yoo-hoo? Seriously. People still said that? Not a young person surely. Perhaps some elderly bushwalker had gotten lost and was in need of help. They waited another minute before finally a nearby clump of fern fronds parted and out she stepped. She wasn’t elderly, for a start. And the only thing she seemed to need was someone to teach her how to button up a blouse.

  Whoa, how was this possible? They were in the middle of bloody nowhere and some how, some way, bodacious babe magnet Declan had managed to score another devoted follower.

  The babe was seriously curvaceous, those tight, tiny khaki shorts and white barely buttoned shirt adding to the va-va voom factor the woman was radiating. She was tall, with legs that went on for days. Her long mass of auburn hair trailed down her back, twig free, and gently curling. Her tanned skin fairly glistened becomingly with a faint sheen of sweat. Full, bee-stung lips. Liquid brown eyes, surrounded by lush long eyelashes which were batting up a strong breeze.

  The newcomer arrowed straight in on Declan, seemingly unaware that Darcy even existed. “Oh, I’m so glad you stopped. I’ve been chasing you for the last two miles, maybe more.”

  “Is everything alright?” Declan looked behind the woman, seeming to expect some threat to be chasing her down. Darcy knew different.

  “Oh, everything is fine… I just saw you, headed for the car park and thought it might be nice to have some company. I’m headed that way too.”

  “Oh, sure.” Declan shrugged, looked at Darcy, who rolled her eyes, swivelled and began striding away fast. “Let’s go.” He noted Darcy’s ram rod straight back and wondered why she suddenly seemed upset. She wasn’t overly fond of strangers, that was probably it. “So, what are you doing out in these parts?”

  Darcy had to bite down on a bark of laughter as she heard the babe describe how she was a Botany Professor at the University of Sydney, here conducting a study of pervasive weeds for the National Forest and Parklands division. Heavens, not just a babe, but a brainy one at that.

  “Did you hear that, Darcy?” Declan sought to include Darcy in the conversation. “Weed invasion, that’s important work.”

  Darcy glanced back in time to watch Professor Babe flush with pride while managing to all but thrust her double-d’s in Declan’s face. “Yes, important. So, where’s all your equipment?”

  “What?” The babe blinked, eyes widening as if she only just realised that she and Declan weren’t alone.

  “Your field equipment? I was just wondering where it was?”

  The babe blinked again. “Oh, um, well… I have it set up back… there.”

  Darcy hoped the gear was covered by insurance
, at a guess she’d say Professor Babe had glimpsed Declan through the trees and abandoned her life’s work without a backwards look. Honestly, the man shouldn’t be let outside without a bell around his neck, warning women everywhere of an approaching threat.

  “But… but I realised that I had left… something in my car.”

  “Something… hmmm?” Honestly, how did the Lava-lamp Lurve God manage to take a woman who was probably respected and lauded in her field and reduce her to panting desperate bimbo status? As Elijah often said, pity all their enemies couldn’t be of the female persuasion. Then all they would have to do was send Declan in to slam them with the dazzling dimples and they would always win the day.

  Declan noted that Darcy had increased her pace, she must be eager to get back to the office and continue the hunt for the missing Incubus. He did the same, and the woman who mentioned her name was Arabeth… something, likewise matched the fast pace. Though she clearly needed to up her cardio work outs, she seemed strangely breathless.

  “So, do you come out this way often?” Arabeth sent Declan an intrigued look from under fluttering lashes.

  Darcy made a choking sound, maybe she was suffering from allergies, Declan hoped she was okay. “Ummm, every other week I suppose, for work.”

  “Oh, and what do you do?”

  “I work for the local council.” Technically true. The High Council did pay his salary.

  “It sounds exciting.”

  “Does it?” Declan frowned, he had been trying to be intentionally vague. Out the corner of his eye he noted Darcy tossing an icy glare back over her shoulder. Shit, she looked really pissed off. Did she think he’d given away too many of the Sanctuary secrets? “It’s not, really, at all. Quite boring actually.”

  “Oh, I doubt that very much.”

  Declan watched as Darcy sped up even faster, her plaid mini-shirt flipping up and down rapidly, giving him taunting glimpses of toned bare thigh. Any other time he’d be deeply appreciative of the fact but right now he was being forced to play nice and chat with Arabeth, since Darcy had decided to flee and leave the burden of being friendly all to him.

  Darcy was not running. She was just striding away at a consistently high speed. She just couldn’t stand to eavesdrop any more on the flirt-fest taking place behind her. Arabeth, all dewy eyed and sex-kitten breathless. Declan, eating it up. Sickening. The man had to do little more than breathe deeply and the inhibitions of every female in a mile radius dropped with an all but audible thud.

  Take Arabeth, the Botany Professor. Moments before setting eyes on Declan she’d probably had her hair sensibly plaited back. Her blouse buttoned up. And considered herself a smart, savvy woman that would never be a slave to her hormonal urges. Then along comes Don Juan in tight jeans and a torn t-shirt and her self-respect and self-worth dissolved into a libidinous puddle.

  As Darcy leaned back against her car, waiting for her heartbeat to slow, she couldn’t help but think that Arabeth was a very timely reminder that Declan Benavidez was not to be trusted. He was used to women falling all over themselves, granting him his every whim. Forgiving him his transgressions… shit, just like she’d done today.

  Goddess, was she at risk of falling victim to Declan’s lothario lure?

  Darcy’s track record with men was pretty damn stellar. That’s if you were anti-commitment, anti-feelings and in particular, anti-love. Which she totally was.

  She’d learnt young to have low expectations when it came to men. In her experience she found them rather obsessive… though, not when it came to her.

  When she looked back over her dating history it was rather too easy to categorise the men in her life. At least three had been all but married to their dream of becoming a musician. There were the two sporting obsessed men. One who was merely a hard-core fan. The other though did go on to play rugby for Australia. There was the gamer, who’d only given her attention when he was between levels and that day long power black out.

  There was the guy obsessed with perfecting his home brewed beer to an award winning standard. The car salesman who practised his sales pitch even whilst they were in bed together. The ultra marathon runner. The medical research scientist. The politician. The Greenpeace eco-warrior. And a host of other single minded men.

  Darcy had presumed for a long time that her choice of men reflected nothing more than her need to scratch an itch with the type of guy she knew for a fact would make few demands on her time. And wouldn’t get any stupid ideas, grow clingy or become soppy.

  Nothing wigged Darcy out more than the idea of anyone professing their feelings for her, ick, just the thought chilled the blood in her veins.

  But a little over two years ago she learnt something shocking. Something that to this day still made her clench her teeth in raw anger and disbelief. She’d been marked. Not physically. But on the spiritual plane. Someone had the unmitigated gall to hang a spiritual keep-off sign on her aura.

  Meaning that only powerful, magical men, or complete nulls, who were already in love… or in the case of the men she had dated, obsessed, with their careers or the like, could be attracted to Darcy.

  They went out with her because on some gut deep level they realised Darcy would prove to be no threat to their career, their goals, or their dream.

  Which was again, kind of galling. Darcy liked being unencumbered. But the idea of leaving a trail of broken-hearted men in her wake who would never recover fully from the experience of having loved and lost her… Well, that kind of appealed to her, in some weird twisted way.

  Instead, the men in her life had barely blinked when she exited their lives.

  Grrr, to think someone out there was screwing with her, and she didn’t have a face, a name… an icy veil of cool, calculating anger descended, yet Darcy had no where to direct that anger. She was stumped. Thwarted. Brought to a literal standstill. She’d tracked down every possible lead, they went nowhere. Questioned at length anyone who might have the slightest clue as to who had done this to her. And all she had for her efforts was bupkiss.

  Failure… it wasn’t a word Darcy had been familiar with until two years ago. But now she lived with that secret shame every day, every moment. Her failure to find out who had magically marked her, why, or how they had even managed to do it, getting past her guard - it was no small thing – it ate at her.

  Failure, Darcy despised the very word. She had thought nothing else could send her spiralling into an all but blinding icy rage until she happened to glance up at that very moment to watch as Declan exited the tree line, Professor Babe cradled in his muscular arms.

  Chapter Five

  “Interesting fact, the Ancient Romans used to leave their sick and injured on a mountainside to perish from exposure, rather then let them continue on as a burden to society.”

  Declan laughed, Darcy really was dryly funny.

  Arabeth didn’t look like she got the joke at all. “It’s only a lightly sprained ankle, no call for extreme measures.”

  Darcy eyed Professor Babe’s trim, perfect ankles carefully. “Sure.” She glanced at her watch and then flicked a cold, impatient look at Declan.

  “I’ll be right back, Boss. I’ll just deposit Arabeth in her car. You did say you have a first-aid kit there, didn’t you?”

  Darcy watched as Declan effortlessly strode towards a mud splattered 4-wheel drive parked at the end of the lot. The sun chose that moment to beam a little brighter, turning Declan’s golden hair into a shimmering halo.

  For a split second Darcy wondered if she’d misjudged the situation, perhaps Declan was merely performing a good deed. But no, as he turned his back on her she had a clear view of Professor Babe’s hand dipping through the tear in Declan’s t-shirt. Clutching at his bare flesh. Whoa, that was more than she needed to see, whirling, she stomped around her car and got in.

  Declan deposited Arabeth onto the driver’s seat of her car, grabbing her hand that was gripping his bared hip, and detaching her. Behind him he heard Darcy start the car e
ngine.

  “I really have to go.”

  “Wait.” Arabeth latched onto his hand determinedly. “You haven’t told me your name?”

  The sports car engine revved slightly louder. Shit, Darcy waited for no man. “Ummm.” He did what he always did when he was cornered and there was no alternative but to provide a name. He lied. “I’m Fen. Fen Valhalla.”

  Arabeth dropped her hold on him, smiling like he’d given her the keys to the kingdom. Declan turned and flat out ran, Darcy was already putting her foot down on the accelerator and headed for the exit. Luckily for him he was trained to jump into and out of moving vehicles.

  Snapping on his seatbelt, Declan leaned back and relaxed. He hoped Arabeth didn’t intend to do anything rash, like track Fen Valhalla down. If she did she would find herself facing Fen’s new meld mate, one very territorial Valkyrie. And then Fen would have an awful lot of explaining to do.

  Declan opened his mouth to share with Darcy what he had done when it dawned on him that the atmosphere in the car was beyond chilly, it was bordering on frostbite territory. Damn, when had it all gone wrong? One moment they’d been swapping banter, the next, Darcy was racing off to the car park, leaving him in the dust to deal with a Southern Sanctuary guest.

  But Darcy wouldn’t want to hear excuses about how Arabeth’s fall and subsequently sprained ankle had taken longer to deal with than he’d thought. When she was on assignment, Darcy was nothing but focused, tenacious and committed.

  Problem was, if he were to apologise for dawdling, then that would be an admission that he was guilty. Which, one, he didn’t feel anything of the sort. And two, visitors to the area were technically Darcy’s responsibility. So if anything, he’d been doing her a favour by stepping up and dealing with Arabeth and her little mishap. Not that he expected any thanks, but he wasn’t deserving of the freeze out.

  Crap, his mission had been dealt a significant blow. Worse, he couldn’t defend himself. Helping Arabeth had taken more time than he would have thought possible, given it was such a light sprain. But the woman had insisted he double check all the bones and ligaments in both legs thoroughly to ensure she hadn’t done any severe damage. And then she’d insisted he carry her. Which at least had sped things up. He had all but jogged with her in his arms. The poor woman bouncing around so much she’d had to cling on to him for dear life.