by Neely Powell
As hard as I tried, however, I couldn’t picture the rest of my life without Hunter.
“Something wrong, Zoe?”
Evan didn’t startle me. I realized I’d been waiting for him. He stretched, his back popping loudly, and then joined me on the floor, one knee bumping against mine. For a second I considered just leaning over to lay my head on his shoulder.
“Trouble sleeping?”
“Every time I close my eyes I see Hunter placing his prize in front of me.”
Evan looked at me with searching eyes. “You’ve known what he is for many years.”
As usual, I bristled at his echo of my own thoughts. “I’ve never had a corpse given to me before. Pardon me if I’m not following the proper shifter etiquette for a death fight,” I said angrily. “What should I have done? An end-zone victory dance? He killed a man, for God’s sake.”
Evan’s tone was irritatingly reasonable. “That beast that would have killed him without hesitation, and then started in on you. Hunter fought to save his life, as well as yours.”
“I know that.” I stood and stomped to the sofa, where I sat. “That doesn’t mean I have to like to it.”
“But you have to accept it.” He stayed where he was but turned to face me.
I gnawed on my bottom lip for a moment. “What if I can’t?”
“That’s something you’ll have to decide for yourself.” Evan got to his feet. “And the sooner the better. Change is the only sure thing in life, and you’re headed for some big changes. You’ll either accept that or choose to stay where you are—without Hunter.”
“Who are you to tell me how I need to live my life?” I barked. “Until a couple of weeks ago neither of us had ever heard of you. Now you’re running Hunter’s life and trying to run mine.”
“You asked me to help you with your gift. I’m trying to help you accept your fate.”
It irked me that he could goad me without even raising his voice. He got up, came over and held out a hand. “Come on, you’ll think more clearly if you get some rest.”
Well, isn’t he Mr. Wonderful?
“I can’t sleep,” I said with a childish whine I instantly regretted.
“I think you’ll do better now.” He took hold of my hands and pulled me to my feet. “You’re more tired than you realize.”
He touched my cheek and a wave of warmth moved through me. I didn’t protest as he led me back to the bed. I lay down and he pulled the covers up. He rested his hand on my head and I smiled as I closed my eyes.
When I opened them again the sun was bright outside and I could hear the murmur of voices in the other room. I stretched and realized I felt rested. Glancing at the clock I knew why. It was almost two o’clock.
I had to face Hunter. And the rest of our lives.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I walked into the living room to find him and Evan poring over something spread out on the coffee table. The TV was on, with News 12 New Jersey mumbling in the background.
I eyed Hunter warily. In a worn pair of sweats and an ancient T-shirt that stretched tight across his shoulders, he looked remarkably well. No visible sign of last night’s battle. Evan was in a crisply pressed shirt and jeans, also looking almost supernaturally well.
“Good afternoon,” I said. They nodded, openly cautious. Like I was the one who was dangerous.
I went looking for coffee. The inky liquid smelled like it had been there for a while, so I fixed a fresh pot. I poured a mug. I went back to the living room.
A news crawler moved across the bottom of the giant TV screen. It said Mandy Morris, wife of prominent New Jersey citizen Charlie Morris, had been murdered in what was being described as a home invasion.
I turned to Hunter, who said, “Evan’s men took care of making Mandy’s death seem random.”
“Random?” I repeated. “Are you okay with that?”
“What do you suggest we do? Tell them about Chymera? About me?”
“No, but…” I didn’t know what I wanted.
“We have to move on, Zoe,” Evan said.
Move on to what?
The moment became awkward. I didn’t know what to say. Evan was calm, and Hunter was acting as if the savage actions of yesterday were removed from today’s reality.
In an obvious attempt to change the subject, Hunter turned what appeared to be blueprints on the table to face me. “These are plans for the empty building in Riverdale that I showed you.”
I barely glanced at the drawings.
“What do you think?” he asked, his eyes glowing with excitement. They were so green they actually sparkled.
“I think you’ve decided what you want. What does it matter what I think?”
Both men looked at me with questions in their eyes but said nothing. They seemed wary, as if they didn’t know what I was going to do next.
Welcome to the club, I’m not sure myself.
“So all of this is decided and you’re ready to go?” I asked.
“These plans were delivered this morning. The building is already mine, so there’s no hold up there.”
I took a sip of coffee and burned the tip of my tongue, which didn’t help my temper. “I didn’t know you were this far along with this. It was just last week that you told me about the building.”
“I thought we could talk—”
“What we need to talk about is your old family feud. You grandfather, Shamus, the guard from North Carolina—they’re all dead because of this. Cyn’s out there somewhere running to keep these monsters from her son. And Mandy, who was completely innocent, had her throat brutally slit. They made her call you, Hunter. She got you over there, and they still killed her. All she was guilty of was jumping in the sack with you. Is she just collateral damage that you just move past?”
“That was cruel, Zoe,” Evan said. “You of all people know how upset Hunter was about Mandy’s death.”
“Yeah, but he seems to be doing fine today.”
“I never thought she was in danger,” Hunter protested. “These are ruthless animals that kill without thought.”
“From what I saw last night, so do you,” I blurted.
The light dimmed in Hunter’s eyes.
“That was low,” Evan said. “Think about what you’re saying, Zoe.”
“I thought about it all night. This isn’t my fight.” I looked back at Hunter, trying to make him understand. “I never thought I’d be involved in anything like this.”
“Then why do you carry a gun?” Evan asked calmly.
Surprise made me jerk my head around. I couldn’t think of a proper snarky remark. He was right, of course. You only carry a gun when you want to be prepared for unforeseen threats and danger. I leaned my head back and sighed. God, what am I doing?
Hunter rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache and then gestured toward the couch. “Sit down a minute and talk about this,” he said.
I looked at him, feeling helpless, something I hated. I covered my face with my hands. Releasing another big sigh, I looked directly at Hunter and decided honesty was the best response. “I don’t know if I can be part of this. What happened last night changed everything.”
Hunter’s eyes darkened with emotion as his gaze held mine. “I defeated my enemy.”
“Evan could have shot him. I could have shot him. You didn’t have to fight him like that—”
“So it was the fighting, rather than the killing that bothered you?” Hunter challenged. “You were much more cold-blooded when it was Lizzie holding a gun to her father’s head the other day.”
“It’s not the same—”
“Isn’t it?” Evan asked. “You allowed her to fight for the truth. Why shouldn’t Hunter be allowed the same?”
“But that wasn’t the truth. It was barbaric, it was—”
“Part of who I am,” Hunter replied. “I know last night was terrible for you, but from the very first time I showed you who I was, you accepted me. Why not this?”
“I don’t understand it. Explain to me what happened. Why did you have to fight him?”
“It was The MacRae against Chymera,” Evan replied. “That’s how it is.”
I groaned. “But why did Killin run away?”
“Because he was beaten. I won. A substitute stepped in and sacrificed himself so Killin can fight on. He isn’t ready to cede his legacy to a new generation.”
“Speaking of which,” I said. “What happened to Killin’s son? The last I saw of him, he was passed out cold and tied up.”
“We left him for the chimera to rescue,” Evan explained. “I expect he was back in his grandmother’s loving arms soon after we cleared out of the warehouse.”
I looked back at Hunter. “You’ll probably fight him one day, won’t you?”
“If the bloody little bastard comes after me and what’s mine, I will kill him.”
I looked from Evan to Hunter, stunned by their blind acceptance of these uncivilized traditions. I made choices about life, between right and wrong, good and evil. Now the lines were blurry. It was the same reason I had hated chasing cheating wives and husbands and dealing with broken families and helping insurance companies decide not to pay disability claims. I liked clean cuts and reasonable explanations. None of that was very likely if I fell in step with Hunter as he was now. Hell, I didn’t even know the rules of the supernatural world, and he was proposing we plunge into it headfirst.
Evan spoke up again. “What is it you want, Zoe?”
“I don’t know that I can just go along with all this.”
“What about the vision of my grandfather telling you to be my first defense?” Hunter said.
“The connection you established with Hunter last night,” Evan added. “You found him.”
“You saw through my eyes,” Hunter said. “I could feel that. I knew you were coming.”
I made a sound of frustration. “It didn’t feel like I did much more than watch you be tortured by that horrible little boy.”
“Do you think what I do just came to me one day?” Evan’s normally even voice held an edge of anger. “I had to learn everything I could from centuries of my family’s history. Nobody feels called to a destiny like this and immediately knows how to fulfill it. You’ve got to work at it, Zoe. I told you I would help you. We’ll get you more help.”
I wanted to be out there in front of Hunter, looking better than Wonder Woman in my cape, tights, and sexy super-hero outfit, telling him how to avoid the big bad Lion of Wall Street. A big, bad lion that wanted Hunter’s blood in his throat. More than anything, I didn’t want to feel useless and frightened. I had felt that way years ago, when my mother was killed and my father wouldn’t talk about it. I knew I had been searching for control ever since that awful day. I wanted the safe, the predictable.
So what was I doing with a shapeshifter?
Hunter took my hand in his. “You left me last night. It was awful. I couldn’t figure out what I’d done wrong, why you’d run away. What happened?”
I stood, unable to contain my anger any longer. “What happened? What happened? You killed a man and laid him at my feet, but you were prancing around and licking your paws like a fucking house cat that just killed a mouse!”
Hunter was quiet, his expression wounded.
I tried to explain. “You weren’t my Hunter. You were a killer, someone I’d never met.”
Hunter’s pain at my comment was obvious. His mouth opened but he couldn’t find the words. He walked to the window, his head bowed.
Evan stood now, drawing my attention. “This is who he is.” His gaze was level and darkly serious. “Make your choice. Don’t drag it out so he suffers. If you can’t handle it, just say so now.”
My resentment toward this man bubbled over. “Who are you to be telling me what I have to do?”
“This is part of me, too,” he replied with that damned certainty that made me want to claw at him.
“But—” I sputtered.
“There’s no buts, no what ifs, and only one choice—yes or no,” Evan said.
I whirled toward Hunter, but he still had his back to me, his hands on his hips.
What did he expect me to do? For Hunter, decisions are impulsive and immediate. If he bought a new car, he went to the car lot, haggled a little, and drove it home within a few hours. When I bought a new car, I did Internet research, checked all the facts and figures, and went to at least three dealers before making a decision.
What more could I speculate about? The facts were right in front of me. Hunter was a shapeshifter, a man with two distinct bodies. But he had one heart and what I knew to be a good soul. He was my family in every way that counted.
Buck up, Zoe, you’re a strong woman and you can do this.
I walked to Hunter. “Last night shook me to my core,” I said to his back. “I’ve never seen anything like that.” He turned to face me, and I put my hands on his cheeks. “Much as I hate to admit it, Evan is right. I know who you are and I know what you have to do.”
He leaned forward until his forehead touched mine. “You know I couldn’t make it without you,” he whispered fiercely. “Thank you for not making me choose.”
“So you’re in?” Evan asked.
Still not sure why I needed to answer to him, I glared his way, then turned back to Hunter. “I’m in. But I can’t promise that I’m going to like everything about you being The MacRae.”
“Understood.”
“I’m not living in that factory building with the two of you.”
A look passed between the men that I didn’t care for at all. A smug, male, we’ll-handle-her-later look. Suddenly I wished Darla were here to stir a little more estrogen into this mix.
“I even have a name for our new firm,” Hunter said. “We’ll call it ‘Seekers’.”
“Because we find answers,” I murmured.
“Among other things,” Hunter said.
We talked for hours, poring over the blueprints and discussing options for the new business. I still wasn’t happy about Evan being a full partner, but this was apparently a long, family tradition. How could my fourteen years with Hunter stack up against centuries?
Evan wasn’t going anywhere.
Neither was I.
So here we were—a shapeshifter, a dysfunctional psychic, and a man descended from an ancient line of warriors. What could possibly go wrong?
A word about the author...
Neely Powell is the pseudonym for co-writers and friends Leigh Neely and Jan Hamilton Powell.
Writing as Celeste Hamilton, Jan published 24 romance novels before leaving fiction for corporate communications. Leigh became a successful nonfiction writer and editor, though she was still interested in fiction.
Something clicked when Leigh focused her talents on the paranormal. Her short story “A Vampire in Brooklyn” was published in the anthology, Murder New York Style: Fresh Slices, in 2011.
Around that time, the friends started a novel together. The result was True Nature, and Neely Powell is contracted for several more novels about shifters, witches, weres, faeries and ghosts, mixing in shades of romance, mystery and thrillers.
Find Neely Powell online at:
http://www.neelypowell.com
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Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Praise for Neely Powell
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
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Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.