Switch of Fate 3

by Lisa Ladew

  Gemma passed through her office area without even slowing, going straight into the sanctuary of the bedroom space. No way would she able to turn her brain off after that bombshell, but she could at least have her freak-out lying down. She stepped into the walk-in closet and changed into a silky camisole set, then re-emerged to stand in her quiet room. Too quiet.

  Gemma turned down the covers on the bed. She was used to living in Atlanta, and that city never shut the hell up, especially near the country’s busiest airport. Out here in the forest things were eerily silent, and with her thoughts racing like they were, that was no good. Damn. I need to at least hear some birds or something. A sudden thought occurred to her. Are they shifters, too?

  Impatient with her own swirling thoughts, Gemma stalked across her room and threw open one of the windows that looked out over a massive tree and Resperanza’s meadow of baby’s breath. She sucked in cool night air through her nose and let it go, feeling her face relax into a smile. This shit may be crazy as hell, but I wouldn’t trade it. A breeze passed over her body and her nipples tightened against the silky fabric of her camisole.

  And that was when she saw them. In the tree outside her window, not twenty feet away. Flashing green eyes. Just like the ones in her dream.

  Something was out there. And it was watching her.

  * * *

  Riot kept one eye on the tree-that-hadn’t-been-before as he parked his bike at Resperanza’s front door and started through the lawn of baby’s breath. The closer he came to the sturdy beech tree, the more Riot felt the need to shift. To climb. He stripped off his leather jacket, his t-shirt, and started on his jeans, all without breaking stride for more than a second, leaving his clothes scattered behind him in the flowers. Gotta get up there.

  At the base of the tree Riot shifted swiftly into his puma and took the trunk in a straight vertical run. Up twenty feet in seconds and then he shuttled off sideways onto a branch, but stopped, pacing in a tight circle, close to the trunk. Now what?

  Movement in the room directly in front of him caught Riot’s eye, and he nearly fell out of the tree. Gemma. Riot swallowed hard. Fuck, she’s beautiful. Even more now than twelve years ago. Standing tall in the center of her room, Gemma wore a shiny, lace-trimmed ivory camisole with slender straps that rested on her bare shoulders, exposing her collarbone and the upper swell of her breasts. Matching silky shorts came just to the tops of her slender thighs.

  Riot’s mouth watered at the thought of all that soft, supple skin, how it would feel to uncover more of it, all of it, to see and taste every inch of the woman who’d starred in every fantasy he’d had since he was seventeen. Gemma turned back to her low platform bed and Riot’s eyes raked over her ass. The silky fabric clung to the gorgeous curve of her hips as she reached to turn her covers down, fluttering around her thighs as she came back to upright. Great Cat, have mercy.

  But then Gemma was turning away from the bed, coming to the window just a dozen feet away and pushing hard with her slender arms to open it. Riot tried to somehow close his nose, to block her scent, but at just that moment a breeze blew across her black curls and Riot knew he wasn’t getting out of here whole. Hell, like you ever had a chance to begin with.

  Her scent hit him like a smack in the face, that bright, sour-green sweetness that made his mouth water. The little smile that curved Gemma’s lips told him she was happy where she was. His heart throbbed inside his feline ribs. At least I got her here, where she belongs. No matter what happens now, I at least did that.

  The breeze picked up again and Gemma’s nipples pebbled under her camisole, so tight that Riot’s sharp eyes could pick out every bump beneath the silky fabric. His mouth watered again and Riot cursed himself furiously. Dammit, this was not the plan. You were supposed to stay away. But he couldn’t stop looking at her. He flicked his gaze to Gemma’s face…

  Amber eyes stared directly back into his.

  Chapter 16 - Please (Don’t) Feed The Kitty

  Gemma froze in place, fear her first instinct when she saw the glowing eyes staring back at her from the darkness of the tree outside her window. Goosebumps rose on her forearms and the back of her neck, but she couldn’t look away, couldn’t pull back. She could barely breathe. Her heart pounded at her ribs like it was trying to bust out and make a run for it. But all Gemma could do was stare at the eyes that were flashing into hers, as her mind spun like a roulette wheel and the truth fell into place.

  She’d seen those eyes before. In her dream, yes, but also sparking through the dark the second before her fated weapon landed in her palm. It was him. Riot. But not human.

  Just believing it was him, though, had her heartbeat slowing, her breath calming. Whatever he was, Riot would never hurt her. She knew that beyond any doubt.

  Gemma took a chance on her hunch, on the crazy serendipity that had ruled her life for the past three days and revealed mysteries she hadn’t even known existed. If I’m right and that’s him, this is the best twist yet. And if she was wrong? Scream her fool head off and run like crazy. Duh.

  She gathered up her bravado and cocked one hip to the side, calling into the darkness with a sprinkle of sass, “What are you waiting for, Riot? Come on in.”

  The flashing eyes disappeared, reappeared, rose higher in the darkness, and came closer. It took a moment for Gemma to discern his shape from the tree’s shadows, but once she did it was as if her eyes had only confirmed what she’d always known: that this man was extraordinary. She just hadn’t known how right she was.

  His paw entered the light first, and Gemma gasped, her instinct to run from wild animals overtaking her for a second before she corrected herself. It’s not a wild animal, it’s Riot.

  But he had stopped cold, not a hair on his body moving. Gemma’s gaze rose to the shadows where the rest of him still hid, seeking the flashing green of his eyes. She tried a smile. “I’m okay.”

  Riot was still for another moment, then lean shoulders came into the light. Next a round, tan cat’s head with long whiskers that twitched in the breeze. A black diamond shape marked the fur between his sharp green eyes. Gemma could barely hold her excitement in check, hands shaking so bad she had to cross her arms.

  Fuck fuck fuck, he’s a mountain lion. Dangerous, lean, mysterious, and solitary; four of Riot’s top applicable adjectives. Add “sexy” and of course that’s what he’d be. Gemma couldn’t think of anything else that even made sense. But this did. This made all the sense in the world. He was the most incredible thing she’d ever seen, even more so than vampires.

  Gemma looked at Riot’s paws and saw that, while she’d been staring, he’d come to the end of the branch. She stood back and held her breath, but a second later Riot leapt into the room after her, landing silently. So. Here we are. A magical miss and a dude in disguise.

  Green eyes locked on hers as if he could hear her, then the huge cat - his shoulders came up past her waist, and with that tail he had to be eight feet long - turned and stalked away, to the other side of the room.

  Gemma didn’t know what to say. Did it matter? Did shifters even still understand English when they weren’t human? Damn, I really should have asked more questions downstairs. She’d make up for it now. “Is that really you?”

  She didn’t know what she had expected, but it wasn’t for the lethal predator in front of her to suddenly change, for his legs to lengthen and his paws to turn to hands and his head to alter its shape and in split-seconds become Riot, buck naked, standing in front of her with one hand over his goodies. Shit. It’s like he’s done this before.

  Plenty more gorgeous to look at, though. Like those broad, tan shoulders that tapered to lean waist and hips, where his skin turned several shades paler and she could tell Riot’s hand didn’t quite cover what he meant for it to. Damn. Need help with that?

  Riot cleared his throat, calling attention to what Gemma’s attention was all about. A blush flamed her cheeks as she looked Riot in the eye and swallowed, her mouth twitching with a smile
. “Sorry.” Not sorry.

  Without a word Riot turned and slunk into her closet. Gemma watched him, her gaze locked on his pale backside and the muscles that flexed and stretched with his movement. Another truth settled into her mind: some part of her had always known the truth about Riot. The way he’d always walked, with a restrained aggression that had made her whole teenage body quiver, it was clear he was a cat. She could even recognize now, from a dozen years’ distance, that she had found the danger surrounding him arousing.

  Riot’s voice from the closet interrupted Gemma’s silent epiphany-fest. “When did they tell you?”

  Gemma stammered out a reply. ”I, uh- about fifteen minutes ago, I guess.”

  Riot stuck his head out the closet door and stared at her with one serious eye, his hank of black hair flopped over to obscure the other. “Wait, just now?” Gemma nodded, and Riot drew his head back, muttering. “Weird.”

  Gemma laughed. “That’s weird? You’re a mountain lion!”

  Riot didn’t reply, but Gemma heard him rummaging on her closet shelves and her forehead crinkled in curiosity. She walked to the door and yanked it open. “Riot, what are you- oh!”

  Riot wasn’t naked anymore. Gemma ripped her eyes from the toga he’d improvised with her spare bed sheets and tried to find her voice. All that came out was a sex-starved whimper. Oh, please tell me he comes with the room. That shower is nothing without him.

  Her eyes skimmed his taut chest and sculpted arms, firm with muscles and covered in so many different tattoos she could hardly see skin between them. The artwork extended up his neck, even down to his knuckles. Gemma wanted to trace every line, every letter. With my tongue. Twice. So I don’t misquote him.

  But something caught her eye. “Your arm. Where I cut you. It’s gone.” Gemma couldn’t take her eyes off the lean muscles of his limb that only two days ago had shown evidence of their meeting.

  Riot growled an explanation. “We heal when we shift.”

  Fascinating, Gemma thought, as her gaze raked his chest. Of course you do.

  There was a beat of silence, then Riot’s voice, softer than before. “When did you stop being scared of predators?”

  Gemma smiled up at him. It had been thoughtful of Riot to tell the other switches to hold off on the shifter talk, even if it was unnecessary. She couldn’t wait to see his face when he heard the reason. “About a year after you got your auto mechanic certification.”

  Riot stared back with an unreadable expression. He didn’t look angry, exactly. Or at least not at her. But he wasn’t happy, that was for damn sure. “What’s wrong, Riot?”

  He grimaced. Looked away. “I was in prison.”

  Gemma shook her head, feeling her curls bounce and settle. “It doesn’t matter. When I saw that you had accomplished that while you were stuck in prison, I knew my scared ass was out of excuses.”

  Riot’s stubbled jaw clenched and bulged. “I didn’t know you knew about that.”

  Gemma’s eyebrows shot up. “Is that why you disappeared for the last two days, you were worried I’d find out you were in prison?” But that didn’t add up. She sharpened her gaze on Riot’s face. “Why did you come back?”

  Riot flinched and turned his head. Gemma felt a satisfied zing even as her frustration at his zipped lips built. Oh, you don’t want me to know shit, huh? Watch how well that works. She tried to keep her voice even, but her frustration broke through. “You think you can just camp outside my room and not tell me why? I’m not an idiot, Riot.”

  “I know that.” His words slashed through the air along with the wounded look in his eyes, and as quickly as that Gemma ceased her attack. She didn’t want to fight. Unless it’s that play-fighting that ends with me pinned down. That I might be okay with.

  She took a deep breath and got her rowdy imagination under control. “What makes you think I care about you going to prison?” Her voice came out huskier than she’d planned, but damn.

  Riot stared at her with those serious eyes and his sexy hair and scruffy chin. “Everybody else does.”

  Gemma smiled, softening further. “I’m not everybody.”

  Somehow Riot’s face went tender and sharp at the same time. His cheek bulged with his gritted teeth, but his eyes met hers with an almost pleading look, as if asking her not to come any closer. But closer was all she wanted to be. In so many ways.

  Gemma took two steps, until she was near enough to Riot that she could smell the clean scent of his warm body. Now all I gotta do is get him to drop that toga, and tonight could be my fantasy come to life.

  She took another step.

  Chapter 17 - Chastity Killed The Cat

  Gemma’s eyes rose to Riot’s, looking down on her from his superior height, seaglass green cast into shadow by the angle and his hair. She swore she could feel his gaze touching every inch of her body under the silky nothings she wore.

  Gemma lifted one hand to trace a tattoo of rose blossoms on Riot’s uncovered pectoral muscle, the flesh beneath her hand firm and warm. Her fingers drifted to his bicep, to the checkerboard tattoo that rippled with his flexing muscle as his hand came up to grab her wrist and hold her still. “What are you doing, Gemma?”

  But she couldn’t explain herself. Couldn’t go back all those years to tell him her story when he was standing right here, right now, and her body was begging her to write a new ending. She looked Riot in the eye as she pushed to her tippiest-toes, letting his hand at her wrist hold her steady. “Kissing you.”

  She kept her eyes open and locked on Riot’s for another moment, so that he could pull away, stop her if he wanted to. But he didn’t. And if Gemma had been worried that this time would be different because she wasn’t fresh off killing a vampire, she needn’t have.

  The second their lips touched she felt it. Like a hot wave crashing over her, but softly, slowly. Seductively. Gemma pressed closer, tilting her head, opening her mouth so she could taste him more thoroughly. And Riot responded, his free hand sliding around her waist and bringing her body flush against his.

  I need him closer. His tongue slipped into her mouth as his hand slid down to grip her ass. Gemma moaned, her unclaimed hand landing on Riot’s chest, quickly sneaking past the folds of fabric, seeking his hot skin.

  Gemma pulled her other wrist from Riot’s grip and walked her fingers up his neck, feeling the slide and twist of every muscle. Riot’s hand, now free as well, went straight to the back of her head, holding her still for his passion. And Gemma took it all, reveled in it, in the feeling of him tangled up with her in this moment.

  She smoothed both palms over Riot’s shoulders and behind his head, putting herself fully against him. He felt so good Gemma practically purred her pleasure. I wonder if that would help? But by the feel of the hard length of him pressing against her belly, they didn’t need any assistance. Just a convenient clear surface. Vertical or horizontal, Gemma wasn’t picky.

  She pressed her body more firmly against Riot’s, moaning at the feel of that hardness against her again. One hand drifted from his neck to his chest, making south for the promised land.

  And just as quick as that Riot’s kisses changed, going from rabidly passionate to practically apologetic. One of his hands stopped hers from wandering and he pulled his hips back, depriving her of the feel of that deliciously long, hard, and she’d-bet-beautiful cock pressing against her belly. Gemma sighed when he pulled his mouth away, too.

  His voice came out as a low, sexy growl. “I really shouldn’t be here.”

  Gemma felt the sting of rejection but she locked it down, glanced away. She didn’t have to take this personally. Whatever this was between them, clearly she just wanted it more than Riot did. Again.

  Gemma dropped the hand Riot wasn’t holding to her side and put her feet flat on the floor, determined not to lash out. She’d been publicly opposed by some of the biggest names out there, for fuck’s sake, she could handle being privately turned-down by one hot guy. One hot, strong, courageous, rebellious, intel
ligent-enough-to-keep-up-with-me guy who also happens to be a sexy-as-fuck shifter. Gemma sighed. “If you don’t want to be here, I don’t want to keep you.”

  But Riot hadn’t let her go, his one hand still tangled in her curls as the other held hers. He stared at her, as if all the words he wanted to say were written in his eyes and she just needed to decipher them. But he wouldn’t give her the key to break the code.

  Riot’s hands left her body and Gemma felt the rush of cool air on her skin like a betrayal. Not so much of her, but of himself. And she couldn’t be angry. Somehow she knew that it was costing Riot more to pull away from her, from the Cause, than he was letting on. She only wished she knew why.

  Her heart jumped into her throat and Gemma let it push the words out. The ones she’d been thinking for the last two nights, the ones she needed Riot to hear, especially if he thought he was doing her a favor by going. “I don’t want you to leave. I can’t sleep. Resperanza feels… different when you’re gone.”

  Riot brought one hand up to cradle her cheek, and Gemma tilted her head to lean into the affection that simple touch offered. She glanced up and saw Riot looking back with a locked jaw and eyes full of contradictions. “I’ll be here while you sleep.”

  Before Gemma could smile, Riot backed away, his gaze gone determined. Gemma didn’t understand. She’d thought he would stay.

  Riot’s sheet dropped, his hard body exposed for only a second before he… changed.

  It happened fast, too fast for Gemma to track. Fur spouted, torso stretched, rib cage altered, legs and arms contorted, but in an easy, fluid way. Not at all like a werewolf in a horror movie. This transformation was graceful. Natural. Primal. A long whip of a tail sprouted from the base of Riot’s spine. She glanced to his face and just caught sight of the last of his flop of black hair being drawn up short, becoming the black diamond between his penetrating eyes, marking him dangerous.