by Ann Aguirre
And that was better for Callum since he didn’t want to forsake his vows. Being attracted to her didn’t mean he wanted to upend his life. This is better for both of us. Somehow, she couldn’t convince herself of that, no matter how many times she crafted the thought, turning it into a ragged refrain.
The time got away from her, and soon it was time to get ready for the show. At least that preparation was familiar, akin to a soldier strapping on armor before a battle. For Joss, the slinky red dress offered the same sense of protection, as did the cosmetics. With each stroke of the brush, she felt stronger. By the time she finished her lipstick, some of the heartache eased, and she tilted her chin, admiring the finished look. This was what the audience came to see: sultry confidence as a backdrop for her strongest vocals.
“I came to sing for the soldiers. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Squaring her shoulders, she left the room and headed over to Nayan’s, using the back entrance to avoid curious eyes. Her arrival on stage would have more impact if patrons in the restaurant didn’t see her before the show. Cultivating an air of mystery was part of strong showmanship, something she’d learned while she was on tour. It also made for a lonely life.
Joss stayed in the small room adjacent to the stage until Nayan announced her set. The smattering of applause gave her strength, as always, and she strode onto the stage with the brightest of smiles. At the piano, her accompanist sat, a pretty young woman who usually provided instrumental dinner music for Nayan. At Joss’s nod, she played the opening notes and Joss came in on cue, crooning into the mic with all the passion she could muster.
Her gaze skimmed the room, as if she was making eye contact with everyone, singing directly to them. In truth, the stage lights made it difficult for her to tell who was out there listening. She cruised through the set as the lighting ebbed and flowed according to the intensity of the number. During one of those lulls, she caught a clear view of the restaurant. The tables were packed with soldiers, some staring at her with dreamy, desirous eyes, but for the second time, Callum wasn’t among them.
For the first show, he’d been out fighting the Golgoth. Today, he must be with his brothers. The monks wouldn’t approve of such entertainment, she suspected. Joss almost missed her cue dwelling on that dismal thought, but she came back strong and finished the set to thunderous applause, warm hoots and cheers.
She flowed into a graceful bow, smiling as she drank in the energy flowing back to her from the appreciation. “Thank you so much for coming. I’ll be here…well, until it’s safe for me to leave.” That got a laugh, as she hoped. She bowed again and blew a kiss, then she went over to thank the pianist. “You did great tonight. I appreciate it so much.”
“My pleasure. Your voice is truly amazing.”
Awkwardly, Joss couldn’t remember the woman’s name. Nayan had rushed the introductions, and it seemed rude to admit she hadn’t caught it when they’d done two shows together. Fortunately, Garven was there to save her ass.
“Britte!” he called. “I had no idea you could play that well.”
“Shut up.”
Her name is Britte. Got it.
The woman went on, “Ignore my cousin, please. That’s what the rest of the family does.”
“You two are related?” She glanced between them, but there wasn’t much of a resemblance, less than there was between Joss and Pru.
Garven was a large man with dark auburn hair and brown eyes while Britte was petite and delicate, fair hair and gray eyes. Idly she wondered what sort of bear Britte turned into; it was difficult to imagine her as a huge and snarling beast. But maybe she was the scariest bear of all, as physical size in humanoid form didn’t dictate shifted scale.
“I know,” Garven said in a mock-sympathetic tone. “I got all the good looks and poor Britte—”
“Finish that sentence. I dare you.”
“I’ll leave you two to settle this,” Joss cut in. “I need to clear the stage…” Before she could finish the sentence, others gathered their courage to approach and soon, she was surrounded by admirers.
This part, she could live without. These folks didn’t want Joss Bristow; they wanted the glamour and the illusion. Worse, she could scent those who were aroused by her stage persona, who wanted to fuck her as a form of conquest. Sometimes acute senses were annoying and uncomfortable. After a show, she just wanted to hide out and wash off her makeup, not deflect unwanted advances.
“We’re leaving now,” Garven said flatly.
Pushing past the small crowd, he ignored everyone else and since Britte hurried after him, Joss followed. She had no desire to linger, now that the show was over. Outside in the crisp night air, she took a deep breath, then she turned to make sure Garven understood her feelings. “I’m pretty tired—”
“Relax, I know that you have zero interest in me,” Garven said, surprising her. “You looked a little wild-eyed in there, that’s all. Have a good night, Joss.”
Callum had no fucking idea what he was doing outside Joss’s door this close to midnight.
Really, the time of day didn’t matter. He shouldn’t be here. He had no right and even less sense to take this risk with the abbot sleeping two floors above. Yet he still lifted his hand and knocked. At the very least, he owed her an apology for treating her like a dirty secret.
Blessed Saint Casimir, you asked her to hide. His skin crawled on that memory. Though he’d done regrettable things before, few left him feeling so dirty and shamed.
At first, he thought she wouldn’t answer—and his contrition aside, that might be best—but as he stepped away, the door opened a sliver, revealing part of her cautious face. When she recognized him, her eyes widened and she grabbed his arm, tugging him into her room with fearful insistence.
“You can’t be here!” she scolded, even as she shut the door behind him.
“Is that right? You never turned me away before.” He had no idea why he was saying such things, contrary to the reason he’d come.
He’d spent the last four hours talking strategy with the abbot, who knew more than Callum would have guessed about military strategy. With the old man on his side and his brothers ready to lay down their lives, he ought to be on his knees, repenting for what he’d almost done. A night spent in silent contemplation wouldn’t be enough to make up for his weakness, but it was somewhere to start.
Yet he was here like an addict, unable to stay away.
Joss sighed, folding her arms in a gesture that even Callum could identify as defensive. “It’s late. What do you need?”
“I came to apologize for how I treated you earlier. I deeply regret my inconsiderate behavior.” Even to his own ears, the words sounded practiced and plastic, didn’t come close to expressing the maelstrom of remorse and desire swirling inside him.
“I understood why you said that. It would give anyone the wrong impression if we came out of your room together.” Her cool tone hurt, as did the way she wouldn’t make eye contact, body half-turned away.
He should leave it here. Callum knew he should, but he stepped toward her anyway. “Would it be the wrong impression, though? We both know what almost happened earlier.”
“Almost,” she repeated softly. “There’s no sin in ‘almost’. Nothing happened.”
“Not from lack of longing.”
Joss inhaled sharply and she turned away so her tousled hair shielded her face. When her shoulders trembled, he closed the distance between them without thinking, shifting her so he could see the tears glistening on her cheeks. His heart contracted.
“Don’t cry because of me, kit. Please don’t.”
Carefully he drew her to him, and his whole body eased the moment she nestled against his chest. This feeling, it was nothing he’d ever known before. Not even the peace he experienced in the rituals of the order could compare. It was like all his cells had been burning for his entire life, and he didn’t know it hurt until the fire went out.
“We can’t do this,” she whispere
d. “Not now. Maybe, if you had chosen me before the order came to save Burnt Amber, but now…”
“I know. I can’t repay their loyalty with treachery and dishonor.”
Callum dusted away her tears, aware that his thumbs must feel like sandpaper on the silken curve of her cheek. Her mouth… Gods, she was made to torment him. In turn, she seemed to be devouring his face with her hungry gaze, as if she needed to memorize his features.
Though he was big and some people liked that, Callum had never believed that he was particularly attractive, and he didn’t care if he was either, but her avid, stormy eyes filled him with golden, glowing pride, like every part of him was exactly as it should be. To his surprise, she reached up with a small hand, and he ducked his head to let her do…whatever she wanted. He trusted that she wouldn’t cross the line, and this was the last time he’d come to her like this, the end of something that never truly started.
Joss plucked at the cord that kept his hair in the topknot he’d worn for the services earlier, and his hair tumbled free. She sifted her hand through it, rubbing the tangled locks between her fingers. That felt so good that he rumbled his appreciation deep in his throat.
“I’ve always wanted to,” she confided.
“To touch my hair?”
“If I’m honest, I wanted to fist both my hands in it and kiss the hell out of you, but this is what I’m allowed.”
Even this would be too much for the abbot, intimacy unsuited to his station. But the abbot was asleep, and Callum meant to bask in as much bliss as he could without breaking his vows because once he left the warmth of Joss’s room, only duty and violence awaited.
“You’re so fearless.”
“Because I speak my mind?”
“Because you come to me with complete honesty when the rest of the world can’t even look me in the eyes.”
“Your eyes are beautiful. Golden brown with bits of brown and green, a touch of copper when you stare into the sun. And your lashes are bleached, so you have to look close to notice how long they really are. They even curl up at the ends. Unexpected softness in such a strong face.”
Other than her hands in his hair, she wasn’t touching him, but he was so turned on, just from listening to her, that his whole body trembled. “I can’t believe you pay that much attention to my stupid face,” he muttered.
“I love your face.”
That was what she said. His heart heard something else, the meaning behind the words, and it tried to go to her, only to slam into the iron, unyielding wall of his vows. What had been his refuge for so many years would become a prison.
When he didn’t respond, she dropped her hand. Not surprising, a person could only give so much before the hurt stopped them from reaching out. His behavior wasn’t fair to her, and starting tomorrow, he would act right and stop letting his primal instincts screw everything up.
“Can we do something before you go?” she asked.
“Name it.” The answer leapt out of him before he could think better of it.
But he trusted Joss. If she’d set out to seduce him, he wouldn’t still be clinging to the edges of his calling. They would’ve gotten naked days ago, and hell, maybe he’d be happier for the fall.
“I’ve always wanted to see you in bear form. Could you…? I’ll turn around.”
That was it?
“If I get to see you as a lynx.”
Her teary eyes brightened into a smile. “Deal. Give me five minutes to appreciate your bear, then I’ll change too.”
As she faced the door, he stripped quickly, then folded his clothes. There was enough floor space in here to accommodate him, but it was about to get seriously crowded. Callum let go of the strands that kept him man-shaped and flowed into the form that felt more natural. As a bear, she smelled even better, layers of warmth and desire mingling with the clean scent of her skin. Even on four legs, his head came almost to her shoulder. He rumbled to let her know he was done, and her delight was the purest thing he’d ever seen.
“May I?” Joss asked, her hand outstretched.
In answer, he butted his head against her and closed his eyes when her palm scraped down his back, smoothing his fur. Like someone’s pet, he let her stroke him all over and even permitted her to examine his paws. Nobody had ever shown so much interest in any aspect of him, and the gentle intensity of it might kill him. It seemed like longer than five minutes had passed, not that he was complaining over the attention. When she rubbed the backs of his ears, he rumbled in pleasure and laid down.
Do whatever you want to me, kit. He barely controlled the urge to roll over and demand that she caress his belly.
“My turn,” she said eventually.
And started taking off her clothes.
12.
It was ridiculous and adorable for an enormous, majestic bear to lumber about in Joss’s front room, averting his eyes in case he got a glimpse of her skin.
She slipped out of her clothes quickly and added them to the pile on the chair, then she slid in her cat form, a sturdy bobcat with silver fur, tufted ears, and patches of amber amid the spots. She bumped his side with her head to let him know it was safe to turn around. Callum-bear still had the same eyes, though the lashes were gone. He regarded her steadily and she wondered what he thought of her lynx, but they couldn’t communicate in this form. That only worked within the same group, so bears could growl at each other and get their meaning across whereas her snarls and purrs would only register for him as sounds.
It was a bit sad that their final private moments would amount to little more than show and tell, but she didn’t regret asking to see his bear. He was every bit as fantastic as she had imagined. To her delight, Callum didn’t recoil when she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder.
Does he know why cats do this?
In complete stillness, he permitted all her nuzzling. His fur was thicker and coarser than hers; she’d never been this close to a shifted Animari from outside Ash Valley. Bear form made him smell even more like himself—the scents that whispered around him burgeoned to delicious life, and she breathed him in deeply, trying to imprint this moment to battle the long lonely ones to come. Cool, crisp wind, like winter distilled through cedar trees and the dampness of frozen earth when it was lightly misted with crystal ice, just a hint of animal musk—that was how Callum smelled to her in bear form, and she’d rarely experienced anything so delicious.
Just when she thought he might become a statue, he reached out a massive paw and set it on her head with great care. Clearly, he was conscious of his own size and strength, and though she couldn’t laugh in this shape, amusement rippled through her.
Surely he’ll understand this.
At the weight of his cautious touch, she offered an encouraging purr. Even a bear should understand that cats purred when they felt pleased. He rumbled a growl in response, and whatever it meant, he petted her as she had done before shifting.
Eventually Callum sank back on his haunches, and there was room to cuddle against him if she dared. It felt like a silent invitation, so she settled against his broad chest and his arms came around her, welcome and wonderful even in these incompatible forms. Yet the strangeness was somehow perfect as well, for his bear encompassed her cat beautifully, giving her shelter with his big body. Purring nonstop, she nuzzled the top of her head against his jaw. Her ears swiveled at the rasp of his breathing. The strained tenor almost sounded like he was crying, though bears couldn’t, of course.
This is difficult for him too.
Conversely, it made it easier for Joss because she focused on his pain instead of her own. Grooming was something cats did for loved ones and close kin, and she could offer him that without it being sexual like it would be if she licked him in human form. The order couldn’t say anything about a cat grooming a sad bear, right? Since it was also a statement of possession, they might.
Even if they did, she didn’t care. Joss hoped the feelings of solace and belonging would get through, past minor
Animari differences. Callum sat still and let her smooth his fur with her tongue, all over his head, and he rumbled when she went for his ears. Since he didn’t swat her, she figured it must be all right. Then for untold moments, they huddled together, close as they couldn’t be as their other selves. This was sweet and warm and…permissible.
But at long last, two enormous paws pushed her away and Callum angled his head at their clothes, his intention clear. It was time for them to change back and get dressed, put an end to the dreaming.
He averted his eyes, a clear invitation for her to go first; Joss complied, efficient as hell in breaking her own heart. Then she turned, so the bear could become a man. When they were both dressed, she faced him again, wondering why she felt as if everything had changed in those moments when, in fact, nothing had. Nothing could.
Joss stood between him and the door, and she controlled the urge to fling herself against it, blocking his exit. Instead she mustered all her composure and managed a smile, though it must be lopsided since she was fighting tears.
“I love you,” she said, then held up a hand when his eyes flinched. “I’m not expecting a declaration. I have more to say, that’s not all of it. Will you hear me out?”
“Have your say.” His voice was so deep and low that it scraped across her senses in the most luscious way.
“You know my cousin Pru?”
“Determined little thing, unexpected knack for managing people.”
Joss smiled, as that was certainly an apt description. “She was desperately in love with Slay—Ambrose Slater—the Ash Valley second for over ten years. Everyone expected them to end up together.”
A flash of surprise bracketed his response. “But she’s with Asher, right?”
“She is. Slay wouldn’t take her because his mother objected, rejecting her outright in front of her parents because she was Latent. He fucking shamed her for something she couldn’t help.” Here, her fierce anger at Slay crackled through. Hate that asshole. “After that, Pru dismantled her great love, brick by brick, until she was resolved enough to choose someone else.”