Squatch (Rolling Thunder MC Birmingham Book 4)

by Candace Blevins

  “What’s the new room?”

  “Your closet. The club will move out of the apartments and back into our houses soon.”

  I couldn’t deny the anticipation of living here with Squatch, his room set up as a permanent sex-and-bondage room sped my heartbeat and sent heat to my groin, but I was emotionally exhausted. I turned to look at him. “I don’t think I’m up for trying out the new equipment tonight. Please.”

  “I know you aren’t, Kitten.” He ran his palm over my hair and then cupped my cheek in the heat of his huge hand.

  “Make sure I’ve provided what you need to do your hair. If I did, I propose we sleep outside tonight as our animals. Together.”

  “We can do that here?”

  “We can.”

  I went into the closet first, and my jaw nearly fell open. It was a fancy closet, with drawers and shoe racks as well as places to hang clothes. Mirrors set so you could see your front and back, and a bench in one end of the room. Maple stained in a beautiful pale patina, with gold, brass, and copper hardware — the colors of my tiger. It was stunning. It wasn’t terribly deep, but it was still more space than I’d ever need for my things. It felt decadent, and I loved Squatch for making it happen.

  He came to the door. “This isn’t the bathroom, Kitten.”

  My gaze met his, my eyes watering, tears threatening. “Thank you. I don’t know what else to say.”

  “I need it to feel like your house, too. I’m not sure how to do that, but I figured this was a start.”

  He held his hand out to me, and I took it. I’d been attracted to Squatch from the beginning, but I hadn’t thought anything permanent would be possible.

  But somewhere along the way it’d become possible, and now I felt like the luckiest girl in the world.

  I looked over the supplies in the bathroom — comb, toner, dye, disposable plastic cap, gloves, blow dryer, brush, scissors.

  “Yeah, you did good. What are the boundaries? Are they obvious, or should we walk the property before we change?”

  “While it’s dark, just don’t go outside of the brick wall enclosing the property, or either of the gates. If we’re still in animal form after daylight, stay on this side of the hedge. The spa opens at eleven, so we’ll be okay a few hours, but the wolf doesn’t do good with minutes and hours.”

  “The tiger understands the concept, but she does better if I imagine where the sun will be. Show me this hedge before we change, so I’ll know for sure.”

  Squatch

  She’d have been okay for sex once I got started, and would’ve been fully relaxed and boneless when we finished. However, it felt like letting her tiger out for the better part of the day would probably do more to center her and remind her of her power.

  Also, my wolf was insisting he be allowed to meet the tiger on his terms.

  Dawn was about to break when we walked the property on two legs. I showed her our wolf-den, built with stone, hidden by bushes in a corner of the grounds that didn’t get sunlight until nearly noon. It was big enough for a dozen wolves, so the two of us would easily fit.

  “There are other little hidden areas. A few were made by someone just for them, and the scent markers make that clear. Otherwise, your tiger’s free to anything this side of the hedge.”

  “Your wolf will be okay with her?”

  “Will she be okay with the wolf?”

  “Yes, but she won’t be afraid of him.”

  “Neither will the wolf be afraid of your tiger. Respect, sure. Fear?” I shook my head. “I want to see her again. I’ll stay the man for a few minutes. Maybe a little longer, and then I’ll change. I’m not afraid of your tiger in any form. You love me, and that means she won’t hurt me.”

  We stripped on the patio under my deck, put our clothes on the outdoor sofa, and I stood while she walked onto the grass, leaned forward, and changed in a shower of sparks. Not sparks. Not really. Glitter might be more accurate, but it wasn’t anything physical. Sparkly light.

  As tigers go, she isn’t huge. Six feet long and perhaps four hundred and fifty pounds. I know an eight-hundred-pound tiger, so compared to him, she’s small.

  My wolf weighs what I do — two hundred and ninety pounds. In human form, I’m six foot seven, and it’s all muscle. In wolf form, I’m a giant when compared to other wolves, but still less than three-fourths the size of Kitty’s tiger. It’s all relative, right?

  Some species, the mass stays the same. Other species, the mass changes. I don’t understand why or how. Tess turns into a small mongoose, Kitty turns into a large tiger, and Frost turns into a fifteen-pound owl. Probably not that heavy, actually, but he’s fucking enormous for a damned bird. The wolf actually is a little afraid of him when he dives down. He couldn’t do as much damage, but my wolf doesn’t like to be dive-bombed, and Frost’s motherfucking bastard owl figured it out.

  The tiger rubbed against me, and I had to fight to stand my ground and not get shoved aside. I ran my hand over her back as she walked and moved around me, scent marking me. Showing affection. And then she leapt away from me, pushing off with her back legs last, her body elongated. She flew through the air, landed soundlessly, and ran out of sight.

  Did she want to play?

  I went to my knees and let my wolf spring forth.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Kitty

  As it turned out, there were two recently-bitten wolves in the basement of the farmhouse when my father and I arrived at Homewood, and Chase had his hands full with them. The two women weren’t in the jail cells the entire time, but he only let them out when he could supervise them. A few times, Squatch went out into the woods to help Chase with them, so my father and I could talk privately.

  Daddy had brought the ingredients to fix all my favorite foods. Part of me wanted to be the little princess, certain this meant her father did, indeed, love her. However, the cynical parts of my psyche just saw it as him trying to get on my good side, trying to get me to let my guard down.

  And every time he poked at Squatch and tried to start an argument, it reminded me my father couldn’t be trusted.

  At some point on the second full day, I think Daddy figured out that he looked bad, being an asshole to my boyfriend, and my boyfriend looked like the good guy by not allowing himself to be dragged into the arguments my father tried to start.

  Things got better, but I still didn’t trust it.

  I did, however, listen carefully while my father taught me the things he thought I needed to know — the rules of wolf society, how to address the royalty of certain species of shifter, and other ways to camouflage myself if I’m out somewhere when my hair hasn’t been dyed, or if I don’t have contacts with me.

  He also took me to the Homewood outdoor range and gave updated lessons on how to shoot a wide variety of weapons.

  On the sixth day, Squatch asked me to go with Chase and the new wolves out into the forest, so he could have lunch alone with my father.

  Squatch

  “Do we eat or fight?” I asked him. I’d had sex with his daughter every night, but I’d kept it to just sex. The night before, she’d needed more, and I’d spanked her and used her. When we’d wakened that morning, I’d given her a morning spanking.

  I’d forgone part of our morning routine all week out of respect for what Kitty and her father were trying to do, but she’d needed me to take charge so badly the night before, I’d told her to choose between my hand or belt after she’d given me my morning blow job. When she chose the belt, it confirmed I’d what I’d already figured out — breaking our routine hadn’t been good for her. She needed the stability of our mornings, so I gave it to her.

  Vincenzo hadn’t said anything around Kitty, but I could sense how tightly he was wound, and how careful he was being to keep from losing his shit.

  He walked out of the kitchen, across the huge screened-in porch, and out onto the clearing beside the house.

  I took my shirt off, left it on a table on the porch, and followed him
outside.

  “We stay in human form,” I told him. “If you shift, you forfeit the fight. No knives, no guns.”

  “No weapons besides our fists and feet,” he agreed.

  I shrugged. “Knees, elbows, other body parts, but yeah. Human form, no weapons.”

  I expected him to attack first, and he didn’t disappoint. I was ready, so I easily blocked his first volley of fists and kicks, and didn’t wait for him to retreat before I lobbed my first offense. No way was I giving him even a second to recover.

  Usually, fights are over within two or three minutes, but we were too evenly matched for that, so ten minutes later, we were still going at it, landing an occasional punch or kick, finding it difficult to get through the other’s defenses once we learned each other. Blood ran down one side of his face where I’d connected with his eye. My face was okay, but I was pretty sure he’d cracked a few ribs with a kick I hadn’t seen coming until it was too late to dodge or block. I’d weakened one of his knees, but he was doing okay on it, despite the pain I could scent on him.

  I was bigger and stronger, but he was faster and sneakier.

  He lobbed another fast offense, moving in and back out, in and back out, and I finally recognized — not so much a pattern as a method. When he came back in, his foot was headed at my face, and I was ready for it this time despite his speed, so my hand was already in place, waiting for his calf. I grabbed, squeezed, leaned back, and held on tight as I swung him in a large arc by his foot. Around once, twice, and I let go so he slammed into a large tree hard enough to break his spine and hopefully a few ribs while I was at it.

  I was beyond ready for the fight to end, and we were too evenly matched for me to be moderate. I could keep from killing him, but I needed to hurt him badly enough I knew he wouldn’t jump back up.

  His ribcage slammed into the huge tree and he bounced off, landing hard enough on the ground it made me wince for him. He landed bent and broken, and it was obvious his spine was damaged. He gasped for air and I scented blood — at least one lung was punctured, possibly both.

  And then he exploded into a million golden glitter-sparkles, and his tiger was lying on its side, no longer bent the wrong direction, but not completely whole.

  The tiger took several long seconds to come to its feet, and I stood my ground. I’d thrown him thirty yards, so we were still that far from each other. I’d hidden a Kimber forty-five caliber handgun under the steps of the screened-in porch, and I’d go for it and shoot him if he came after me in tiger form.

  But he didn’t. He took thirty seconds to catch his breath after he made it to his feet, and then he glitter-sparkled back into human.

  And then he just stared at me from thirty yards away.

  After a full minute, I figured someone needed to break the silence, so I said, “I love her. You messed up the way she thinks about sex. It doesn’t make much sense for you to get pissed because she needs it rough in order to enjoy it.”

  He still didn’t say anything, so I crossed my arms and told him, “Damn, I’m glad wolves don’t do that motherfucking glitter-sparkle thing when we change.”

  He shook his head. “As much as I want to point out that dogs don’t do fancy, I find that it feels more important to give you credit for winning the fight.”

  I shrugged. “I think we both knew we’d need to take the measure of each other at some point. I’m just glad we could do it without Kitty here to see it.”

  He looked around him, gathered up the pieces of his clothes that’d scattered around him when he burst out of them, and walked to me, naked.

  “I’ll change clothes, shave my head, and put new contacts in, and then we should eat lunch, wolf.”

  Kitty

  I knew something was up when the wolves and I came back to the farmhouse, but both Squatch and my father seemed to want to play it off as if nothing had happened, so I didn’t push. We had to get through one more night, and then breakfast the following morning, and we’d be done with this week. I’d enjoyed spending time with my father, but I’d have been happy to say goodbye after three or four days. A full week of him was too much.

  Squatch went for a walk in the woods so my father and I could have a nice meal together alone. I didn’t ask him to, but he told me it’d been planned ahead, and that it was important.

  My father and I sat down to steaks, twice-baked potatoes with extra cheese, fried squash, a mess of greens cooked in bacon fat with a big ham hock, and chess pie for dessert.

  Halfway through our meal, I had to know. “If you’d won, I think you’d be gloating, or at the very least, a lot cockier. You aren’t, so I’m going to have to assume Squatch kicked your ass.”

  He sat back and glared at me. “We’re pretty evenly matched, but yeah, he won.”

  “I don’t smell any damage on you. I assume you changed?”

  The tiniest of nods. He did not want to talk about it.

  Part of me wanted to push it and insist he give me details, but I decided not to.

  “I love him, Daddy. I’m going to give the Ambush three or maybe four babies, but after that, any babies I have will be mine and Squatch’s, and if you want to keep up a good relationship with me, you’re going to have to accept all of my children as your grandkids, and Squatch as the father of the ones we parent.”

  “I read the agreement we signed.” His voice was biting. Annoyed.

  “You aren’t listening to me, Daddy. You may one day have a human grandchild, or a wolfen one. Squatch is being patient with you now because he’s trying to help me make this work, but if you snub our children? The gloves will come off, and you have to know that.”

  He rubbed his eyes and leaned back in his chair. “I don’t think I can make you any promises, Val, but I love you, and I look forward to seeing you as a mother.”

  “And you hope my kids are tigers?”

  “No, actually. Our legends only recognize golden tigers as the fruit of two purebred golden tigers. If you give birth to a golden tiger born of a wolf...” He ran his hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “I understand what you’re saying about the genetics of it, but we must follow our own law in this. I will love him or her as a grandfather, but even as Commandant, I won’t have the authority to declare them a golden tiger. So long as you’re careful to keep your children hidden if they look like one of us, and I know you will be, I won’t follow the laws that say the child should be killed, but I can’t promise others of our kind will look the other way.”

  “You disappoint me, father.”

  “You’ve disappointed me in ways I can’t begin to list, princess.”

  I shook my head. “Clearly, I’m not your princess anymore.”

  “You will always be my princess, Val.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Squatch

  Thankfully, there were so many dramas happening in the clubhouse when we returned, the spotlight wasn’t just on Kitty.

  Best of all, my brothers had moved into the new clubhouse while we were gone. They’d even cleaned out my apartment and put the contents in my garage, so we went straight there from Chattanooga. The ol’ladies had put Kitty’s things into her closet, and I wanted to kiss them for showing with their actions how happy they were to have her here.

  Our first night back, we sat in our new clubhouse and watched a live internet feed of Dementor’s Ember fight her way to a win in a roller derby match in Seattle, Washington.

  Ten minutes after the match was over, I found myself breaking up yet another fight between prospects, and I made an executive decision that we couldn’t have both of these men in the club. I was pretty sure Mad Dog would agree with me, so I didn’t check in with him. If he had a problem with it, he’d tell me. I respected both the hierarchy and our friendship, and he knew it.

  So, I lifted both men, one under each arm, and I glared at another prospect as I stalked to the back of the building. “Open the motherfucking doors as I walk through. These two are going to fight it out, once and for all. Loser le
aves the premises and never returns.” I raised my voice. “Prez, figure out the rules while we walk to the sparring room!”

  I heard him behind me, saying only brothers needed to come, and everyone else should stay put. Kitty would worry, but I agreed with him. This was going to get ugly and she didn’t need to see it.

  I stood the men up in the sparring ring and stayed between them while the room filled in around us. Mad Dog stood just outside the ring and said, “Loser hands over any patches and walks off the property tonight. He’ll never be welcome on any of our properties again. Not even as a customer. Winner pays a five hundred dollar fine for fighting in the clubhouse because I’m with Squatch on being tired of this shit. We don’t need hot-heads who can’t keep their fists to themselves. We’re a brotherhood, and yeah, sometimes we fight, but we also work our shit out.” He turned and met my gaze, then focused on the prospects. “Human form, no claws, no weapons. Jeans and barefoot. Empty pockets. If you kill your opponent, we’ll kill you and you’ll both be dead. Winner is the last man standing — fight until someone screams uncle, they’re unconscious, or they change. If you can’t hold your human form, you lose. If you change and keep fighting in animal form, you forfeit your life.”

  He turned and looked at Frost. “I got a hundred on Freckles.”

  Frost made a notation in a tiny notebook and nodded. Everyone else started placing bets as well. I’d be the referee, of sorts, so I didn’t place a bet. This wasn’t a fight with silly rules about where you can and can’t hit. Both men would have to be careful not to kill the other, which meant they couldn’t crush the other man’s windpipe without risking their own life as well. I would, however, be responsible for stopping the fight once one of Mad Dog’s stipulations came into play.