Beast Coast (A Carus Novel Book 2)

by J. C. McKenzie

  I took a sip of wine to hide the silly grin easing onto my face. Glancing at Tristan over the rim, I could tell from his knowing smile, he wasn’t fooled.

  “So. Before you became an assassin. Before you accumulated whatever bad history you have…which I hope you’ll confide later…did you have any hobbies? Did you paint?”

  I snorted before I could stop myself. Not very ladylike. “I have about as much artistic talent as a cluster of colour-blind hedgehogs in a bag.”

  “I thought all hedgehogs were colour-blind.”

  “I read somewhere they have cone-like nuclei in their retinas, so theoretically, they should see some colours.”

  Tristan blinked. “Not your average reading material.”

  “No. Maybe I should’ve said moles instead?”

  “Now those, I know, are flat out blind.” Tristan relaxed back into his glass of wine.

  I nodded. “And a more accurate description of my painting abilities.”

  “So we won’t be doing any nude sketching of each other later?”

  I took another sip of wine, ignoring the images of Tristan’s naked body flashing through my mind. Not going there, not yet. “Why’d you ask about painting anyway?”

  Tristan shrugged. “Seems to me, women are always saying, ‘I really wanted to paint.’” He used a rather high-pitched, whiny voice to imitate said women. It would’ve been insulting, if it hadn’t been so funny.

  “I really did want to paint at one point in my life. But I’m not sure what I did with a paint brush and a sheet of paper could ever be described as painting.”

  Tristan chuckled. Silence fell over the table while he swirled his wine, and I stared down at mine. “So you like to read,” he said. “That’s a hobby.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “I want to get to know you, Andy. Find out what you like, what you want, what you’ve been through.”

  Warmth radiated from my chest, and I fiddled with my fork, determined not to let him see how his words affected me. I loved how he said my name—all purr. “Why me?”

  A long pause made me look back. With his head tilted to the side and his brow furrowed, Tristan looked at me like an unfinished puzzle. Setting his glass down gently beside his plate, he leaned forward and held my hands across the table. “You asked why I smelled so good earlier.”

  My throat constricted. I nodded.

  Stroking my hands with his thumbs, he met my eyes straight on. “Do you not know why you find my scent irresistible? Why yours feels the same for me?”

  The idea that my scent elicited the same response in Tristan sent a searing bolt of goodness straight to between my legs. Then I thought about what he said, what he implied. It was a weird sensation to experience a mix of polar emotions—dread, excitement, apprehension, and anticipation swirling around my head until I broke free and spoke. “We can’t be mates. You’re a leopard.” And I’m a mountain lion, not to mention a wolf, a falcon, and something dark and twisted that I don’t want to define.

  It was impossible to keep the tone of disappointment completely out of my voice. Why did I want him so much? My life would be simpler with only one love interest. Hell, it would be easier with none.

  Tristan’s eyes twinkled back at me. “You think Werewolves have a monopoly on the mate thing?”

  A couple of weeks ago, when things started to heat up with Wick, I’d threatened he might have to share me if my mountain lion or falcon wanted to mate with another, not knowing if it was possible. I’d been making it up to put space between us. Once again, I found myself cursing my own ignorance. Had I grown up in a Shifter home, or not receded into the primal part of my being for three decades, I would’ve known this stuff. The Internet could only provide so much insight, and it often became buried under pages and pages of ignorance and stupidity. Gah!

  Wick’s response to my threat had been to research big cats. He found they weren’t monogamous. Mountain lions specifically lived a solitary life and met other adults for the sole purpose of reproduction.

  Wick.

  The back of my throat ached. I grabbed my water and gulped down mouthfuls of cool liquid to wash away the thickness growing in my esophagus.

  I glanced across the table at Tristan. What would he make of the research? Regardless, the information Wick found was based on big felines in nature, not supernatural Weres or Shifters, like me and Tristan. It certainly didn’t cover how my Carus status affected my ability to mate. I hesitated before saying, “I’ve never heard of feline Weres being mated. How’s that possible?” I made a point of researching supernaturals. Not just to find out what the fuck I was, but also because knowledge was power. The better I knew my targets, the better I could take them down. That being said, I never discovered answers regarding my nature. It was very probable I missed out on other information as well.

  Tristan laughed. It was a short bark that sounded borderline bitter. “We don’t go around announcing it or throwing it in people’s faces. The mating bond is sacred and not discussed outside the pride or potential mates. It’s our biggest vulnerability and the Shifter Shankings served as a glaring message to the rest of the supernatural community to keep our mouths shut. The Werewolves had already blabbed, but for the rest of us, the mating bond is kept secret. The decision to enter into one is not taken lightly.”

  I frowned. “You would pass on being mated?”

  Before Tristan could reply, the waiter arrived with our meals. We had both ordered steaks, extra rare. Not exactly a surprise. Nor was the wide berth the servers and some of the other patrons gave our table, having deduced we weren’t normal. What I could never figure out was how supes weren’t outed before the Purge. What normal human would want to eat raw steak, unless they harbored a supernatural predator deep inside their psyche?

  My mountain lion purred as the tender meat hit my tongue and awoke my taste buds. I reined in my reaction so I wouldn’t freak out the table beside us. They were an older couple, norms, and from the quick glances they kept casting our way, it was safe to assume we made them nervous.

  We ate in companionable silence, savoring the flavors in the meat. Or at least, I was. The mate thoughts kept trickling up, though. What would Tristan have said before the waiter arrived?

  Stop it! Just relax and enjoy the moment. Great steak.

  When the waiter cleared our plates, Tristan gave me a sly look before telling the waiter we’d finish our wine and then he’d like the bill. No dessert.

  “Not here,” he whispered to me. “I have plans for our dessert.”

  It was a good thing I was sitting, or I’d have melted to the floor from the look he gave me. I gripped the sides of my chair and smiled back, hoping he didn’t realize how much the flashing of his pearly whites disarmed me. His grin grew and I knew, just knew, I was doomed.

  Chapter Eleven

  “If you run, you’ll only go to jail tired.”

  ~Unknown

  Using my limited knowledge of dates, I’d say this one went well: awkward start, delicious dinner with good conversation, romantic walk on the seawall while the handsome love interest held hands with the socially inept lead female. Everything textbook perfect for a popular chick-flick movie.

  Tristan gripped both of my hands in his strong ones. The waning crescent moon reflected off the water and illuminated the deep blue pools of his eyes. They mesmerized me as he pulled me close on the narrow section of the seawall. The ocean breeze brushed through my hair and whipped it around. Tristan leaned down. I closed my eyes.

  A high-pitched wail shattered the exquisite silence.

  Our heads snapped away, and my muscles tensed. A growl ripped from my throat, not quite wolf, not quite mountain lion.

  Crazy-eyed norms swarmed us. Scrambling over the edge from the ocean, they looked more like versatile climbing lizards than humans. Their eyes shone with the same possession as the norms on the train. My heart pounded against my breastbone as my cat and wolf pushed to take over.

  “What are
those?” Tristan released my hand. He pulled his tie off and slipped out of his jacket. The first human who reached him got a fist in her face, sending her flying backward.

  “Possessed humans.” I kicked one pump off and grabbed the other from my foot. I chucked it at a large man still lumbering over the wall. It beaned him in the head and sent him falling back into the water.

  “Nice,” Tristan said, before judo-throwing a barrel-chested man with a bald spot into a nearby lamppost.

  Before I had a chance to pick up my other shoe for a weapon, another woman grabbed my wrist and yanked on it, pulling me toward the edge of the wall. I broke her hold with a white-belt defense move and knocked her off with a flurry of hand strikes.

  “There’s too many,” Tristan said after flinging another one over the wall. He ripped off his shirt. “Shift.”

  Cursing, I used a series of moves to put a bit of distance between myself and the three humans launching themselves at me in an uncoordinated effort. Shifting quickly to my mountain lion form, I shook off the remnants of my little black dress and wasted no time pouncing at the humans converging on Tristan. Weres took more time to shift, and it was their most vulnerable state.

  Ripping the throat out of one man, I quickly tackled another, clearing an area for Tristan. He’d already removed his clothes and curled into a tense ball as the change took him. Skin folded over skin, blood and other liquids oozed out, bones cracked, fur emerged. The older and more powerful Weres shifted quickly. Tristan shifted into a leopard faster than I’d seen any Were before, which told me he had to be over three hundred years old.

  Rounding on the possessed humans, we made quick work of those remaining. Slashing, ripping, gutting. A natural hierarchy existed between animals, humans included. Big cats always came out on top.

  My mountain lion enjoyed the sensation of physical superiority. Though jealous not to be let out, my wolf relished in delight as I overpowered weaker individuals. I liked not being dead.

  Shifting back to human, I took a moment to study those we’d killed. I didn’t feel sorry. Not even guilty—just sad. They were possessed with the same glowing eyes as the ones on the train. But it was either them or me, and that wasn’t a dilemma in my books. Clear choice.

  My falcon squawked and urged me to launch into the summer air. Looking up to find Tristan, my breath hitched, stolen from my lungs at the sight of his naked body. Even splattered with the blood of our attackers, it was magnificent. Well-defined muscles rippled with the slightest movement. He’d send Adonis into a pouting fit, winning whatever competition they entered. Following the V down to between his legs brought a smile to my lips and a flutter to my heart. He’d definitely beat the Greek gods in one department.

  “Should I flex?” So caught up in admiring Tristan’s naked form, I didn’t realize he watched me until he spoke.

  My attention snapped to his face and warmth flushed my cheeks. He responded by casting his gaze down my body. While taking a slow perusal, he stepped closer and closer. Couldn’t exactly chastise him for doing exactly what I’d done, now could I? But if it was possible to do a full-body blush, I accomplished it then and there. “I don’t usually let a guy get me naked on the first date.”

  Tristan laughed. “Now that, I believe.” He bent to pick up my clothes. I tried really hard not to look at his butt. And failed. Nice. Very nice. Sculpted and hard, corded with muscle.

  Breathe.

  I wanted to sink my teeth into it.

  Shaking my head, I croaked a “thanks” and took my clothes from Tristan. He shot me a crooked grin before finding his own stuff. I slipped into my ripped clothes. Where did the thought about biting his ass come from—me or the cat?

  Did it matter?

  After putting on his own clothes, he walked up behind me, placed his jacket around my shoulders, and pulled my body into his. My bare feet shuffled against the rough pavement. Strong arms enveloped me. He bent his head so the bridge of his nose ran along the soft skin between my neck and shoulder, like he did at the beginning of our date. Taking a deep breath in, he scented me. His shoulders dropped, and his arms relaxed as if the action gave him comfort. Maybe it did. I certainly felt better.

  “This is going to sound wrong,” he mumbled into my neck. The brush of his soft lips on my skin sent shivers down my body. “But I enjoyed fighting beside you.”

  I laughed and turned to face him. “I guess this means our date is over.”

  Tristan tilted his head. “Why would you say that? We still have dessert.”

  ****

  Dessert had to wait. Flashing red and blue lights accompanied by wailing sirens flooded the night. The good ol’ Vancouver Police Department put the SRD to shame with response time.

  Covered with dirt, skin caked with blood, and wearing shredded clothes, we made quite a sight. But on a positive note, I’d found both my shoes.

  “This could get ugly,” I said.

  “Do you want to run?” Tristan asked. “We could shift and be gone before they reach us.”

  “No. They’ll find my DNA, and I’m in the system. Besides, someone had to see us to call it in.”

  We both glanced around the empty seawall and the surrounding ocean. The crescent moon and city lights from the North Shore and Lions Gate Bridge reflected off the water. I couldn’t see or smell anyone in our proximity. My skin crawled, as if snakes slithered across it. Someone or something watched us.

  Police cruisers pulled up from both ends of the seawall while others screeched into the nearby parking lot. Officers flung their doors open, and used them as shields while they aimed their guns at us.

  “Hands in the air!” One of the policemen in front of us bellowed.

  We complied.

  “Get slowly to the ground—” he continued.

  “Wait!” Another cop yelled. This voice sounded familiar. “I know her. SRD agent. Stand down.”

  And just like that, the guns went away, and we watched Officer Stan Stevens stalk over to us, carefully skirting the crime scene. His face remained serene, but his soap and leather scent flowed in the breeze and carried his wariness to us in greeting.

  “Agent Andrea McNeilly?” He planted his feet wide and kept his gun hand loose near his weapon. “We keep running into each other.”

  Not on purpose. “Hello, Officer Stevens.”

  He grunted and pulled out his notepad. “Tell me what happened.”

  I recounted the events while other police officers sectioned off the area with yellow crime scene tape. I didn’t leave anything out. The other cops milled around with crime scene tape and cordoned off the area. One placed a yellow marker by my bloody heel.

  A van pulled up and investigators in white body suits hopped out. Some carried floodlights, others lugged lab collection kits.

  “So more possessed humans?” Officer Stan clenched his jaw after he scribbled down our statements. He held his pen tightly, turning the tip of his forefinger white.

  “It looks that way. Although they weren’t possessed in a way I’ve seen before. Other than on the train.”

  “Any witnesses?”

  “No. Just us.”

  “If this wasn’t becoming commonplace all around town, I’d cuff you both and haul your asses in. You may have to come in for further questioning, but I have a feeling this will be turned over to your agency like the other cases.”

  Other cases?

  Dead air hung between us as Stan studied my face.

  “But?” God, I hoped there was a “but” in there.

  An investigator approached us and with a nod from Officer Stevens, started swabbing the blood splattered across our bodies. Another man with whiskey on his breath took my hand and collected the skin, blood and hair from beneath my nails. I didn’t fight or question any of the evidence collection. I wanted out of here. After Whiskey-breath finished with my hands, he tapped my chin. I opened and he quickly swabbed the inside of my cheek.

  Officer Stevens watched with an expressionless mask and remaine
d silent until the crime scene investigators left.

  “But—” Officer Stevens continued as if no time lapse had occurred “—our crime lab can now identify a discrepancy in these possessed humans’ norepinephrine levels. We’ll know shortly if you’re telling the truth. And if you’re not, your agency can spend their budget hunting you down. You’re not in the norm jurisdiction. I wish the SRD would respond faster so we didn’t have to freeze our butts off waiting to transfer the chain of custody to them.”

  “So we can go?”

  “Consider it a professional courtesy. Unless you want to wait around for your people to show up? We could, uh, we could find you a blanket or something.” He waved his pen-holding hand at my body.

  Huh? Oh, he meant my outfit, or lack of one. I tugged at my dress, trying to cover a bit more of my upper thigh without exposing my crotch. I gave up and pulled Tristan’s jacket closer around me. “Did they say who was coming?”

  “Agent Tucker, again.” The tone Officer Stevens used earned him some serious brownie points with me. Apparently, he didn’t think much of the daddy’s boy, either.

  “We’ll head out,” I said.

  ****

  Tristan took me to a late-night coffee shop that served ice cream and offered no judgment for my shredded clothes and disarrayed appearance. We’d found a public restroom to clean up, but traces of dirt and blood still smeared our skin. No one seemed to care. Frankly, the amount of chest Tristan’s ripped shirt exposed and the way the entire staff gawked at him, they’d probably let him do anything. I ordered mocha almond fudge in a waffle cone bowl and a cappuccino with cinnamon.

  Tristan placed his spoon down in his empty bowl. “You asked me earlier if I’d pass on having a mate.”

  Too busy shoveling ice cream into my face to vocalize a response, I put my spoon down instead. I swallowed a mouthful of ice cream too quickly, and the onset of brain freeze set in. I winced and pinched the bridge of my nose.

  Tristan laughed and reached out to hold my hand, waiting for it to pass. Light flashed in his eyes. “Finding a mate is a gift.” He squeezed my hands. “And not something I’ve experienced until now. But it’s not the same thing as the norm concept of soul mates.”