by T. S. Joyce
“Is Fargo a shifter?” she asked, stomping down the stairs.
“Not technically,” Holt said brightly.
“What does that mean? Because Fargo has definitely seen me get undressed before.”
Holt tossed Cole a pissed-off glance.
God, Cole wished he could do an I-don’t-give-a-shit shrug in this body. Really, he’d closed his eyes when Bre got dressed or undressed in front of him, but Holt didn’t need to know that he was a gentleman…er…gentledog. It would’ve been fun to get in a fight with that old gator about now. Take his mind off Mae for a little while…
“Can you change into a man?” Bre asked him directly.
Bark! Yeah, but it wasn’t easy, and it didn’t last long before he got sucked back into the dog body again. Three days was his max, and he’d been working for years to build up that kind of stamina.
“Change into one right now!” Bre demanded. Ew, she looked mad, all punching her fists onto her hips and glaring. One of her veins was popping on her forehead. “Fargo Fuckinator Lachlan, Change right now or I’ll—I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” Holt asked, sounding concerned. “Blow a gasket? Your face is getting really red.”
“Eeeaaaaaaahh!” she screeched.
Jesus, maybe the pregnancy hormones were turning her into a demon.
“You’ve both been lying to me this whole time!” she yelled.
Oh. Well, she did have a point there. Cole had no idea why Holt hadn’t told her what he was.
“Change!” she demanded, pointing her finger at him.
“Bre, it ain’t so easy on him,” Holt said low. “And you ain’t a witch with a magic wand.”
But Cole was already trying. He liked Bre, and it was time. He’d been in this body a whole month now and hadn’t had a real reason to Change back into his human skin until Mae…er…until Holt told him to Change back. And now Bre was demanding it. Yeah, that’s why he was concentrating on the Change.
Pain sizzled through his body, and he whined as he lowered to the ground on his belly to die. Because that’s what this was. Changing, for him, was dying. The dog died so he could survive, and when he Changed back, the man died…over and over and over.
No, he wasn’t a shifter technically, but he wished he was.
“Baby, look away,” Holt said softly to Bre.
God, it hurt so bad—this dying. He usually picked a more comfortable spot than a patch of prickly weeds on Holt’s front lawn.
“What’s happening to him?” Bre whispered. Horror tainted her voice.
He could imagine what he looked like in the in-between state. The moments when his fur retracted and his skin peeled back, his muscles and bones re-forming into an entirely different species. The grass was already wet underneath him. He always got woozy from the blood loss.
“Excuse me,” she whispered. “I’ll be right back.”
Cole could hear her running up the steps of the house. She was going to be sick. The baby made her stomach sensitive, but his Changes could make any person with an iron stomach sick, too. It wasn’t some beautiful, powerful moment like it was for the Lachlan gators.
Raina, the Lachlan Witch, had melded two dying creatures together to share a body, and black magic like that didn’t make for beautiful Changes. It made real monsters.
There was a slick sound as his human skin re-covered his newly shaped body, and on hands and knees, Cole stared at the wet, red grass beneath him. He clenched two tufts of weeds as he squeezed his eyes closed against the lingering pain.
“I’ll get your clothes, Cole,” Holt murmured.
When Cole looked up, Holt wouldn’t meet his eyes or even look at him. That man had a terrifying gator inside of him and the confidence and attitude to match. But, at this moment, he hung his head, staring at his boots like he was submissive.
Cole knew better, though. It wasn’t submission. It was guilt. Guilt was what made Holt call him Fargo while he was in dog form and Cole when he was the man. He had to separate the two so he could sleep at night. That’s what happened to good men when they took someone’s life away. The guilt ate at them until they found ways to cope.
“You should’ve told her,” Cole said in a raspy, gravelly voice. It felt like he had sandpaper in his throat.
Holt shook his head, still wouldn’t look at him. “How could I explain to her what we did?”
That, Cole didn’t have an answer for. The only girlfriend he’d ever had was Mae, and back then, he didn’t talk much. Didn’t talk enough. Hell, he probably would’ve protected Mae the same way—by hiding what had happened in the swamp that night.
But he liked Bre, and he wanted her to stick around for Holt, so he thought often about the little mistakes Holt made with her and wished Bre would never get hurt. That was life, though, he supposed. For normal people at least. They had to learn each other and choose to stay or go. And as far as he could tell, Bre was loyal as hell. She was staying.
While Holt took the stairs two at a time, Cole stood on unsteady legs. Inside, Holt was rummaging through his closet from the sounds of it. He kept a dog’s heightened senses even when he was a man.
Holt came back just as Cole leaned heavily on the nearest tree. “You look like shit, man,” he said, handing him a pair of Cole’s old folded jeans and a flannel shirt. Holt cleared his throat. “I thought the long sleeves would be good. Sometimes you get cold when you come back.”
Huh. He did. His body was always a little off for the first day, and he didn’t regulate temperature very well. Cole nodded, more than a little shocked that Holt had paid such close attention. “Thank you,” he said gruffly. He didn’t even recognize his own voice.
Bre came out of the house and down the porch stairs. As she approached slow, she ran her knuckles over the thin sheen of sweat on her brow.
“You look pale as a ghost, girl,” he murmured as he pulled up the jeans.
“I didn’t know,” she said softly. “Fargo, I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have made you Change back like that.”
“I chose to.”
Holt was quiet now, standing at the edge of the shadows the tree branches cast, chewing his lip and looking at the ground. No introductions would be made from his manner-less ass, so Cole held out his hand to Bre for a shake. “It’s good to officially meet you. My name’s not Fargo, though. It’s Cole. Cole Jennings.”
Bre slipped her clammy, shaking hand into his and squeezed it lightly as she shook. Poor girl, that baby had been doing a number on her body. Them gators always took a toll on the mommas, far as he’d heard. Bre was a tough woman.
“Nice to meet you, Cole,” she said, dropping his hand. She crossed her arms over her slightly swollen stomach. “I just had a dozen flashbacks of moments with you that make a whole lot of sense now. You’ve been protecting Holt all along, haven’t you?”
He nodded once.
“And Liam, too?” she asked.
Another nod.
“And…me?”
Cole allowed a smile. “You, and also the baby, too. For as long as I’m breathing, you and the gators are safe.” Safer than she would ever realize.
Back when he’d turned into a dog, he got that dog’s loyalty to the first people who showed him kindness. Man’s best friend and all. Holt hadn’t let him go through this alone. Not for one second. He hadn’t let Cole wallow and feel sorry for himself either. He’d been there with Cole, quiet, watching, looking like he wished he’d died that night instead of hurting Cole. And because of that patient loyalty, over time, Cole’s loyal dog-heart had latched onto Holt and the people he cared for.
Cole had big plans for the people who came after the Lachlans now. Had big plans for Morgan’s poacher father and the man who tried to bully her into marriage. Liam’s mate was just as safe as Bre. She didn’t need to know about the wicked things he had done, and would do, to keep the Lachlan’s safe. Bre was good and would sleep better if she didn’t know about all the blood on his hands.
“I don’t watch yo
u dress or undress,” he said. “Pay attention next time. I ain’t lookin’ at you.”
“Ha! Boy, there won’t be a next time. I’m not stripping in front of you ever again. Fargo. Ha! I thought you were a dog. Like…a legit guard dog.”
He didn’t feel so good, and chills were rippling up and down his body, so he pulled on the flannel shirt. “I am. I stay dog most of the time, and when I am, I have the same instincts as any domestic dog. You’ll get used to it. You won’t see me much like this. You’ll be able to keep my two forms separate like Holt does.”
Holt shook his head, looking a little green around the gills. “I don’t keep them separate. I know who and what you are all the time.” He dragged his fiery gator eyes to Cole and said, “I’m gonna get you fed, get you feeling better. Supper will be on in half an hour.” Then he did an about-face and made his way to the house without looking back until he got to the porch. He turned and said, “Hey Cole?”
“Yeah?”
Holt sighed. “You should’ve told her.” He’d used his own words.
“It’s not my job to tell Bre—”
“I ain’t talkin’ about Bre. You should’ve told Mae Lynn.” Holt turned back around and disappeared inside, leaving Cole feeling like he’d just had his legs taken out from under him. Hearing her name out loud did awful things to his insides.
Bre watched her mate go with a frown marring her delicate eyebrows. “What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
“He blames himself.”
“For what?”
“For me being what I am.”
“Why would he blame himself?” she asked, searching his eyes.
Cole sighed. His ears were ringing, and there was a headache building just behind his eyes. “Because, Bre…I’m an abomination. And I’m his fault.”
Chapter Three
Driving Tabby’s old black Cadillac was a little funny. It had a set of longhorns on the front and was about the opposite of anything Mae would normally drive. The ride was smooth sailing, though. Whatever shocks they put in these things were amazing because she barely felt the gravel and potholes on the way to Holt Lachlan’s house.
He was about to think she was crazy for bringing his dog a plastic baggy of turkey, but honestly, she wanted to see the dog—Fargo—again. She had an excuse all made up, too. Holt was one of the public shifters now, an alligator, a big one if rumors were true, but he probably wouldn’t eat her. Uncle Jeb said he was all paired up with a mate and less aggressive now.
Yay, survival!
She drove past the No Trespassing sign and wound through the thick trees until she could see the Lachlan house. She’d only been here as a kid on a dare because everyone said it was haunted. She put the window wipers up a notch since it had started to rain in earnest again.
The whitewashed two-story jutted up out of the swamp shore on stilts. There was an old blue High Boy and a Bronco parked in the grass in the front yard, and she immediately scanned the porch for the dog.
There was no dog at all, though. When movement caught her eye to the left of the house, she slammed on the brakes and skidded to a dusty stop at what she saw.
Cole.
Cole Jennings.
Her Cole.
No…not her Cole. Was that Cole? She squinted and studied the man who was pushing off the tree, staring back at her like he was just as stunned as she was. He had the same dirty-blond hair, but it was shaggy, mussed, and fell down in front of his face, covering half of it. He wore a beard now that was thick and hung halfway to his neck. His liquor-brown eyes were sunken in his face, and his cheekbones jutted out more. He’d lost so much weight if that was him. He used to be a big-boned homegrown swamper boy, but now he was just muscle and bone. He wore jeans and no shoes, a red and black flannel shirt that was open and exposing the chiseled line between his pecs and a six-pack that flexed with every breath. He was every bit as tall as she could remember, but much leaner and more muscular than she’d ever imagined he could be.
He was different, but those eyes…
That was Cole.
She didn’t bother pulling forward, just parked right there in the mouth of the driveway. Turned off the old Caddy and shoved the door open. And then she was running. Running? Why? What was she doing? He was alive, and he hadn’t ever reached out to her.
She was nothing to him. So clearly, she meant nothing.
Mae skidded to a stop right in front of him and a red-headed woman.
“I don’t…I don’t know why I did that. Ran here.” She dashed her knuckles under her eyes because, damn it all, she was crying.
“It’s okay,” the red-headed woman said, her eyes round. “Uuuum, I’m Bre.” She stuck out her hand for a shake. “I’m Holt Lachlan’s mate. Baby momma. Wife.” She swallowed hard. “All three of those.”
Mae’s breath was shaking, right along with the rest of her body, and she couldn’t physically pull her eyes away from Cole’s. She stuck her hand out and felt around for a second before Bre clasped her hand and shook it. “I’m Mae Dafoe. People around here call me Mae. Dafoe. Lynn.” She squeezed her eyes closed and concentrated on her words. “They call me Mae Lynn. But I don’t really like that name anymore. It feels so strange to be called that again, but…oh, my gosh, none of this matters.” Her eyes flew open and landed on Cole, who hadn’t moved a single muscle since she’d driven up. “You’re alive,” she said on a breath.
He shook his head, then ripped his gaze away from hers, ran his hand through his thick hair and then looked down at his stomach. As if he just realized his shirt was open, he pulled the buttons together, but not before she saw the scars. Long, deep, red marks marred his skin.
“I’m not,” he whispered. No sound came out, only breath.
“You’re not alive?” she asked, confused.
He shook his head, his eyes roiling with a storm.
“I’ll be inside. Stay for dinner if you’d like to, Mae.” Bre looked from Cole to her and then back to Cole. “She should stay for dinner.”
“No,” he rasped out, barely any voice behind the word.
“I shouldn’t stay?”
“I mean I’m not alive.” He ran his hand down his beard and backed away, putting ten feet of space between them before he stopped. “I’m not who you think I am. Sorry.”
“You’re Cole,” she murmured. “Cole Jennings.” My Cole, you just look different.
He just shook his head over and over, his eyes filling with some emotion she didn’t understand. “I…” He swallowed hard. “I can’t.”
“Tabby died.”
He started buttoning his shirt from the bottom.
“Did you hear me?” she asked. “Tabby passed away. But you already know that, don’t you?” She took a step toward him. “Because you’re the dog, right? You came to Tabby’s. I saw you. I saw your eyes. You’re a shifter.”
“No!” Cole’s eyes flashed with anger, and a growl rattled the air. “I’m not that.”
He turned and strode into the woods, and for a second, Mae thought she should let him go. But this wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She deserved answers after everything she’d gone through. “You owe me,” she yelled, jogging after him. “I left here. I left my home because you were gone. I couldn’t eat without a memory of you, and I couldn’t sleep without the memory of your arms around me, and I had no life at all here after you ran away.”
“Didn’t run.”
“Then where did you go, Cole?”
No answer.
“Tabby is gone, and suddenly you’re alive, and I feel too much in this town. This is why I never wanted to come back!”
Cole slapped the side of his head three times, and the snarling in his chest stopped. “I can’t do this!” he barked out, rounding on her. His unfamiliar, snarling voice echoed through the woods.
“In two hours, I have to go listen to the reading of her will, Cole. Alone, because that’s how I feel here. I’m on the outside now. You disappeared and broke my heart, and now I don�
�t have a connection with this place. My home is gone! I have to listen to the reading of the will and pretend I give a shit what Tabby gave everyone when all I want is for her to come back, for you to have never left, and for my life to make sense again!” She screamed the last part. With a hitched breath, she wrapped her arms tightly around her stomach, as if that would keep her insides from breaking apart. What was she doing, chasing this man into the woods? A sob wracked her body and her shoulders sagged. She couldn’t catch a ghost that didn’t want to be caught.
It hit her straight in the heart like a hammer on an anvil. “You never cared at all what happened to me,” she whispered too low for him to hear.
He rounded on her too fast, his eyes glowing a lighter brown, his lips pulled back in a feral snarl. His face was twisted with a rage she didn’t understand. In a demon’s voice, he told her, “Don’t you say that.” He strode right for her and stopped inches away.
She was scared. He wasn’t the same. Maybe he was crazy now. He hadn’t cut his hair or shaved his face in a long time, and all those scars. All those scars.
Would he hit her? This stranger? He looked so angry, so she tensed, preparing. But when he reached out, it wasn’t to hurt her. He ran a knuckle against her cheek and wiped away the tear there. And then he gripped the back of her neck and squeezed it gently. “You’re okay.”
“But are you?” she asked on a breath.
His eyes belonged to the dead as he answered, “No.” He jerked his chin in the direction they’d come from. “Go back to your people, Mae.” And then he released her neck, turned, and walked away, limping deeply on his left side.
“You were my people once,” she called out to him.
But he didn’t turn around, didn’t answer. He only shook his head hard and disappeared into a thick grove of trees.
Just like the dog had done.
Chapter Four
Cole clenched and unclenched his fists for the hundredth time since Mae had left in Tabby’s old Cadillac. Alone? Fuck. She was sad over Tabby’s passing, and she felt alone? He knew that feeling better than he knew the back of his own hand. He would rather drink motor oil than have Mae feel that way.