by Zoe Chant
And after he’d called Heartwell, he’d see Meaghan again.
Warmth spread through his limbs. He’d see Meaghan again and they’d spend another evening like this one. Another evening where he didn’t have to scrape himself to the bone with watchfulness. Another evening where he got to see Meaghan close her eyes with enjoyment as she devoured a slice of pie.
Except this time, he’d remember to bring his goddamn wallet.
He patted his pockets. Where the hell is it? He must have dumped it and his phone before he passed out that morning. Keys, too. All the paraphernalia of normal life.
Hmm.
When Meaghan had mentioned calling Olly in the morning to check on her, a thought had stirred in Caine’s mind.
Angus Parker.
Angus was the friend he’d told Meaghan about, the one who was closer to him than his actual family. Or he had been, until the first thing Caine’s hellhound did was attack him.
Caine didn’t remember what happened after he transformed that time. The only memory he had was Angus’ face twisting with fear. And since then, even thinking about Angus had set the hellhound off. Caine had had to push his old friend out of his mind. He’d never even gotten in contact with him to find out how he was doing.
The only reason Caine knew his old friend was still alive was that he’d locked himself in an abandoned basement one night and looked him up online. The battle to keep his hellhound under control had taken him weeks to recover from, but at least he’d gotten confirmation that Angus was still alive.
But, hell. A grin spread across Caine’s face. It was Christmas. His hellhound was gone.
He could call Angus.
Assuming he could find his phone.
Caine padded up the stairs. It had to be in the bedroom, surely—unless he’d left it in the car? No—there it was, the screen cracked from when he’d kicked over the side table. He checked that it was still working.
I’ll have to make sure I keep it charged, he told himself. For when Meaghan messages me.
He brought up his contacts list and his thumb hovered over Angus’ name.
I know he’s alive. But I don’t know what my hellhound did after it attacked him. What if he’s spent the last year trapped by his own monster, the same as me?
Guilt twisted in Caine’s gut. That’s even more reason to contact him. My hellhound isn’t a danger to him anymore, and no one should have to go through what I did alone.
He tapped on Angus’ name.
The phone rang. And rang. Then—
The call connected with a burst of static and a noise like Angus was still fumbling with his phone.
“Hey, sorry for keeping you hanging! I didn’t have my phone on me—”
“Angus,” Caine burst out. “Christ. It’s me. I know it’s been ages, I—”
“—and I still don’t! Haha! Sorry, whoever you are, I’m gonna have to call you back. You know the drill. Leave a message after the…”
BEEP.
Caine let out a heavy breath and sat down on the end of the bed. Talking was one thing. Leaving a message was another.
“Hey, Angus,” he said, just before the silence stretched out too long for him to bear. “It’s me. Caine. I know it’s been a long time and we didn’t exactly part on…” He buried his head in his hands and groaned.
He’d stayed away from other shifters ever since he’d gotten his hellhound and learned shifters existed. All his focus had been on finding a way to get rid of the hellhound. But while he might not have learned much about other shifters, he knew they did everything they could to keep their existence secret from humans.
“Christ. I don’t even know if you want to hear from me, but here it is. Things changed for me, last year, and now they’ve changed back. If you know what I’m talking about then you know what that means, and… and there’s hope for you, too.”
And if my hellhound didn’t turn you into one, too, and you’ve written off my hellhound attacking you as a bad trip, then you’ll probably think I’ve lost my goddamned mind when you listen to this.
He cleared his throat. “Either way, I’m back. Or close enough. I’m out of town at the moment, but I’m ready to get back into things. Might even pick up that property scam case I was working, back before… Anyway. Good talking at you, Angus. Merry Christmas.”
He set the phone down and stared out through the window at the snow-covered mountains.
Everything was going to work out. He was going to be himself again, be human again, and then—maybe, now that there was more to him than endless watchful fear, now he had something to offer other than nightmares and exhaustion, maybe, Meaghan would—
Three knocks reverberated through the house.
Caine stood up. Someone’s at the door? But—
He went back down the stairs. Too slowly, apparently, because after a very brief pause there were another three knocks. And another.
He opened the door and found Meaghan on the other side, one hand up to knock again.
Her chin was up, and the corners of her mouth were drawn tightly in.
“I swear I’m not doing this on purpose,” she said, her eyes daring him to call her bluff.
Caine raised one eyebrow and was rewarded with a glare. The tension at the corners of her lips melted away.
“Not doing what on purpose? Knocking on my door?”
“I—guh. My truck won’t start,” Meaghan admitted through gritted teeth.
“So you’re stuck and want me to help out with your truck. Hmm. Where have I heard that before?”
“That’s why I said I wasn’t doing this on purpose!” Meaghan groaned and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples. “There wouldn’t be any point shoving you in the truck again anyway. The engine’s had it. Won’t even turn over.”
Excitement shivered up Caine’s spine. He crossed his arms, trying to act casual. “If you wanted to stay a bit longer, you just needed to say, you know.”
“I…” Meaghan looked panicked, and Caine uncrossed his arms.
Act casual? What the hell was he thinking?
Meaghan took a deep breath and squeezed her eyes closed. “I don’t—guh—I don’t want to be a nuisance and I don’t want you to think…”
“Meaghan.” Caine reached for her hand. Her fingers tightened around his and he licked his suddenly dry lips. “In the minute between us saying goodbye and you appearing here on my doorstep again, did you convince yourself I’d been lying about wanting to see you again?”
Meaghan’s mouth dropped open. She shut it with a snap. “Yes,” she admitted, and then rallied: “I told you, it’s all-or-nothing with me.”
“And I’m nothing?”
The words were out before he could stop them. Luckily, Meaghan seemed to be having the same problem.
“No!” She slapped her hand over her mouth and groaned. “You’re not nothing. But I… I don’t want to screw this up. I wanted time to, to…”
Caine leaned closer to her. That indignant “No!” made his heart leap. “I wish you’d throw yourself at me with as much reckless abandon as you do everything else in your life.”
His breath froze in his throat. Meaghan’s eyes widened until they filled his entire world, a thousand emotions tangling together behind them. Shock. Surprise. A single moment of delight, and then…
“What if I screw it up?”
“You won’t.”
She snorted half-heartedly. “You don’t know me. I always screw it up.”
Caine’s skin prickled with cold. He stepped closer to Meaghan, until his breath made the fur lining of her hood shiver.
“I don’t believe you.”
Meaghan scraped her toe on the step. “I guess it’s not like I have any other choice, with my truck broken down.”
Caine glanced sideways. The rental car he’d driven here was just visible in the carport along the side of the cottage. Meaghan followed his gaze.
“Huh.”
“It’s up to you,” Caine said
quietly.
Meaghan bit her bottom lip. Her eyes searched Caine’s, and then unfocused, as though she was thinking so hard she wasn’t seeing anything.
At last she took a deep breath. “Okay. Let’s recap. My truck’s broken down. I’m a terrible mechanic. I only know enough to know it’s stuffed.”
“I hardly know one end of an engine from the other,” Caine added helpfully. “And I expect the service station’s closed, this late at night.”
Meaghan bit down harder on her lower lip, but it didn’t hide the smile pulling at the edges of her mouth. A thrill went through him.
“Definitely closed. And it would take him an hour to drive out here, which would make it tomorrow anyway.” Meaghan took a deep breath and shuffled sideways, effectively blocking Caine’s rental car from his sight. “I literally can’t see any other way I can get back to town tonight.”
Caine made a show of looking around the clearing in front of the cottage. His heart was singing. “I can’t see anything, either.”
“Well then.” Meaghan narrowed her eyes at him. “I guess my only option is all, after all. Are you going to invite me in, or leave me out here to freeze?”
“It’s freezing in here!” Meaghan wrapped her arms around herself and stamped her socked feet on the carpet. “Is the central heating broken? Maybe we should call someone after all.”
Caine winced. He’d left the balcony door open that morning—and again just now when he’d climbed into the house—and now the entire cottage was frigid.
“My fault,” he admitted. “I’ll fix that right now.”
He raced upstairs and closed the door, then paused to check the thermostat. When he got back to the living room, Meaghan was standing in front of the window. With the lights on inside, the trees were a ghostly shadow behind the room’s reflection, and her reflected face was overlaid with snowy tree branches.
“It’s gorgeous out here. I haven’t been out this way much. Although…”
Meaghan hesitated, then put her hands to the glass and peered through them.
“Those trees look embarrassingly familiar.”
Forgetting his quest, Caine stood beside her and pretended to squint out the window. Pretended, because that would have required tearing his eyes away from Meaghan.
“If you look closely you might see where I ran through them this morning. A man-shaped hole in the snow.”
Meaghan half-snorted, half-groaned. “Bare footprints, because you didn’t even stop to put your boots on…”
I wouldn’t have stopped for anything. “And a good thing, too. If I’d wasted time with socks and shoes, you might have already been flattened by the sleigh by the time I got there. I wouldn’t have even seen you.”
“You have an answer for everything, don’t you? To hear you say it, today wasn’t just one screw-up after another. Everything happened for a reason.”
“Didn’t it?” Caine crossed the living room and stood beside her. His reflection brushed up against hers in the window. “I think everything’s turned out incredibly well.”
“Oh really? Even your light-up boots?”
“What’s wrong with my boots?” Caine stamped his heels so the lights along the sides twinkled and Meaghan groaned.
“You know, there’s a reason Bob let you take them for free. I don’t think we ever sold a pair in men’s sizes. Except to Jasper Heartwell last year.”
Heartwell again. Caine shrugged the name aside.
Meaghan looked up from Caine’s twinkling boots and gasped. The dramatically pained expression on her face was replaced by genuine tension. “Oh God.”
“What is it?” Caine turned around, automatically putting himself between Meaghan and whatever she’d seen. He hadn’t noticed anything as he came in, but he’d run upstairs and come back down with his mind full of Meaghan. The house could have been on fire and he wouldn’t have noticed.
What he saw made him swallow back a curse. The nearest sofa had been pushed over. Its cushions were scattered around the room, and over the coffee table, which had been shoved awkwardly to one side. A throw rug had been dragged across the floor towards the stairs that led up to the bedroom. Caine vaguely recalled kicking something out of the way as he’d raced up them earlier.
And…
Oh.
Meaghan pushed past him. “Jackson was wrong. Someone has been here. The ghost gang—shit. I’d better call him.”
“Don’t.” Something in Caine’s heart rebelled at the thought of inviting Jackson into his home—no, the cottage—when Meaghan had only just got here. Besides… “This wasn’t the ghost gang.”
Meaghan spun around, eyes wide. “How do you know?” she demanded.
“Because I—argh. You remember I told you I drove all night to get here. I was pretty out of it by the time I arrived, and…”
“You made all this mess?” Meaghan’s eyebrows shot together.
Caine gulped. “Well, I, er…”
Caine vaguely remembered dragging his luggage into the house, and then warding off another of the monster’s attacks before he collapsed in bed.
He didn’t realize he’d left the place such a dump. It hadn’t seemed important at the time.
Because the idea that I’d be bringing a gorgeous woman home to a house that’s in worse shape than my college dorm was the farthest thing from my mind.
“Is this your suitcase?” Meaghan was behind one of the sofas now.
“Er—”
“And your boots! You’re still wearing them! Why didn’t you take them off in the mudroom? You’ve tracked dirt all in!”
“Only from the car!” Caine yelped defensively.
Meaghan rose up from behind the sofa, her eyes mischievous. “You really are a city boy.”
Caine ran one hand over his mouth and jaw, gathering up what dignity he had left after that indignant yelp. He had to fix this, goddammit.
“Right,” he said, drawing himself up. Meaghan was still kneeling behind the sofa; she rested her elbows on it and grinned at him. “Here’s what we’re going to do. There must be one room in this house I haven’t gone through like a tornado. If you would, please…”
He walked across the room, Meaghan’s soft laughter following him. She’s laughing. That’s good, isn’t it? He stuck his head around the kitchen door and heaved a sigh of relief.
“Oh thank God. Would you mind waiting in here? Please?”
Meaghan stood up, dusted off her knees, and almost had her smile under control by the time she reached the kitchen door. When she saw the room beyond she smirked at him.
“You’re leaving me in the kitchen?”
“Just for a second!”
Meaghan’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as he pulled out a chair for her at the kitchen table.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he reassured her, then darted back to the front door where he’d left the bags of leftovers. “One more minute!” he promised, depositing the bags on the counter and running off again.
Idiot, he berated himself. He’d invited Meaghan in from his freezing doorstep to an equally freezing cottage that looked like a whirlwind had been through it.
His cottage.
A lump of cold settled in the bottom of his stomach. Meaghan was here, in the closest thing he had to a home, and this was the welcome he gave her? It was unacceptable.
Caine righted the last cushion and was halfway back to the kitchen when he looked down and saw muddy footsteps on the tiled floor. Cursing, he looked around for a vacuum cleaner.
No luck. He grabbed the throw rug he’d rescued from the staircase and dragged it over the dirt, sweeping some of it out to the front door.
Something that sounded suspiciously like muffled laughter echoed out from the kitchen.
“One more minute!” he called.
Caine dragged off his twinkling boots and left them on a low shelf next to the front door which must exist for that specific purpose, given that Meaghan’s boots were already neatly lined up on it. Bu
t he couldn’t just leave the dirt-streaked rug by the door. Casting around, he spotted a cupboard and opened it to find…
… a vacuum cleaner.
Caine groaned and knocked his forehead against the cupboard door as he closed it.
Everything had been going so well. He’d never forget the look in Meaghan’s eyes when he told her how much he wanted her.
And now his demon hound had risen from the grave to ruin things again. And he hadn’t even noticed until it was too late. He’d been sleepwalking through his first day as a free man.
“Caine? Your minute’s up.”
Caine closed his eyes. Meaghan’s voice wound around his heart—but now he wasn’t sure he deserved it. He was human again, but what sort of human? Meaghan was so sure in who she was. So brilliantly, fiercely herself. But Caine wasn’t the man he had been before the demon. He didn’t know who he was now.
The sort of man who didn’t even notice the mess he caused and made her frightened that his home had been invaded. The sort of man who tracked dirt into his own house. Who forgot his wallet.
A bitter taste flooded his mouth. If he’d been sleeping before, this was a harsh wakeup call.
What if he wasn’t enough for her?
What if he got the all of Meaghan’s all-or-nothing heart, and didn’t deserve it?
He walked slowly back to the kitchen and paused with his hand on the door. Half of him expected to find Meaghan already standing on the other side, having decided that he wasn’t worth the wait. His rental car was still around the side of the cottage, after all. He would more than deserve it if she decided to head back to town by herself. Or she could take the bed, tonight, and he’d curl up on the sofa.
He should tell her now. Let her know the option was there, at least.
Caine pushed the door open.
Meaghan was just where he’d left her, sitting at the kitchen table, looking out the window at the shadowy shape of the wood shed.
Just one thing had changed. There were two glasses of champagne on the table in front of her.
10
Meaghan