by Elle Thorne
“I’m not going to preach, don’t worry. You had a call at the office. I didn’t want to give your number out, even though she said she was related to you. There are too many kooks out there.”
Curiosity made Dane’s eyebrow quirk upward. Stan wasn’t moved to call Dane for any random story. It had to be a good one, or at least one he’d fact checked. “Who was it?”
“The caller ID said the last name was Forester, but still, could have been a crazed fan.”
Stan was one of the very few who knew Dane Snow was only his stage name. That he was Dane Forester on all his paperwork. Stan had kept his secret for more than a decade.
“Right. I get that. What did they want? You wouldn’t drive all the way out here if it wasn’t legit and a damned good reason.”
“Her name was Mae Forester. She said your uncle had died. That there is a will-hearing.”
Mae Forester. Dane hadn’t heard or thought of her name in more than a decade. Maybe a decade and a half.
Mae Forester had been mated to one of Dane’s uncles. Brad Forester. Brad and Dane’s father Greg had been killed by other shifters.
Dane had been sent to stay with a third uncle named Frank, in Bitter Falls. So Uncle Frank had died? A surge of shame passed through him. Dane hadn’t kept up with Uncle Frank. Not after he’d been sent away from Bitter Falls.
“I’ll call Mae.” Later. “If she calls back give her my number.”
Bitter Falls. The very name brought back a monsoon of emotions and memories he’d tried to leave behind.
Red hair and cheeks that blushed too easily came to mind when he thought of Bitter Falls. Also, full lips, full hips, and a sassy attitude.
Glory.
He hadn’t wanted to think of her name because it brought back the searing pain.
Their shared time together had been unforgettable. Losing it had catapulted a headstrong young Dane to pursue a life that encompassed pretending to be everything he wasn’t.
And then one day, it was too late. He couldn’t fix what was undone. And he couldn’t go back and get revenge. He had no rights, not where she was concerned.
“I’m done for the day,” he told Stan. “I won’t be reachable.” He’d take a drive to the mountains, shift into his leopard and do some exploring. And hiding.
He slipped into his trailer.
He paused.
Something…
He let his snow leopard senses concentrate because something was making his feline’s alarms go off. The hair on the back of his neck rose.
A pulse, definitely human, came from somewhere within the trailer.
No.
Make that two pulses.
Female pulses judging from the speed.
He took a deep breath, let the aromas in the air sit on his lungs while his snow leopard analyzed them.
Female pheromones. Two females, aroused. Somewhere in the trailer?
What the fuck?
Dane had seen a lot in his years in Hollywood. Hell, he’d experienced a lot, and nothing much could surprise him anymore. He opened the door to the closet in the living area.
Empty, except for the stuff that belonged. Nothing out of place, and nothing that looked like it would give off the scent of females in lust.
He moved forward. The trailer had three rooms. One larger one that he slept in and two that had bedroom furniture but remained unused.
A low moan sounded from behind the nearest closed door. The smallest bedroom.
Did a couple decide to get it on while he was out?
He opened the door, ready to shoo the amorous ones from his trailer.
“Dane!”
A blond head rose from its position between another woman’s legs. It was his co-star, Ashley. She was naked, kneeling in front of a pair of legs that were as open as a pair of legs could get. Her hands were placed one each side of a completely clean shaven light pink pussy, spreading the lips wide, the deep pink center glistening and winking.
Dane tore his gaze from the sight to Ashley’s face. Her lips were moist, covered with the juices she’d just raised her head from. Her eyes were glazed, sex glazed or drug glazed, or both.
“I want you to meet my new friend, Dane. She’s ours.”
Ours?
Dane and Ashley had indulged in occasional sexual acrobatics. Ashley’s appetite was insatiable and her adherence to not getting emotional appealed to him because he had no interested in anything more than sex when it came to women.
But as to her statement that the woman splayed out, spread-legged on the bed, being theirs… where did that come from?
“Looks like you’ve already started the party,” he pointed out, finding himself strangely disinterested. Typically, the vision of two girls, both naked, both wet… because yes, he could scent how wet Ashley was…
But oddly now, he wasn’t moved by it. Not even the tiniest of twitches from his cock.
Fuck. He’d almost be tempted to see a doctor for a condition like this, except he knew exactly what was wrong with him.
Glory.
Chapter Two
“Aren’t you excited?”
“This will be the bonding of the century.”
Why should I be excited?
Glory Aleman couldn’t voice that question. Not aloud. Her cousins would be aghast. Her upcoming bonding with the eldest son of the prestigious Moore shifters was an honor for her family. And it would preserve and strengthen a treaty between the Aleman shifter families and the Moore shifter families.
She had no interest in the bonding. For years she’d been able to pretend it would never happen. That the slated date would never arrive.
Now it’s less than a week away.
Six days, four hours, and thirty seven minutes.
Who knew the precise countdown to something?
People who dreaded it. That’s who.
Her cousins had traveled several thousand miles to help with the upcoming ceremony. They were younger and quite enamored with Perry Moore. Glory understood their fascination with him. He wasn’t bad looking. Not at all.
Mary, Glory’s third cousin removed, braided Glory’s long red locks while her sister Sara painted Glory’s toenails.
“Perry,” Sara said with a sigh. “He’s so dreamy. He’s the most handsome of the Moore ivy shifters.”
“And to think, he’s all yours,” Mary added.
“To think,” Glory said and pushed away the grimace that threatened to make its appearance.
“Your parents were so wise to plan that bonding so early. Especially since…” Mary’s voice drifted away.
Her unspoken words pierced Glory’s heart with the ever familiar stab of pain when she thought of her parents.
She’d lived alone in their home, stayed here, bound by duty and bound by the roots of being an ivy shifter. Her extended family hadn’t stopped her from staying in her parents’ home, though she knew after the bonding ceremony she’d have to move to wherever Perry Moore wanted to live.
“There.” Mary secured Glory’s braid with a bow and clapped her hands with a flourish, as if completing some major assignment.
Yes, Glory’s parents had been wise to arrange her bonding with Perry. And he seemed very handsome in the pictures she’d seen of him, though there was a glint in his eyes that she hoped she was misreading.
“Want to look online for a new wardrobe?” Sara pressed the power button on the computer.
“What’s wrong with the wardrobe I have?”
Sara laughed, then caught the expression on Glory’s face, realized that she was serious, and clapped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry. I thought you were kidding,” she mumbled behind her fingers.
“Sara’s just saying you will want some new clothing for your mate. That you’ll want to look as good as you can.”
Glory studied herself in the mirror. The braid secured her hair behind her back, though a few unruly curls had made their way out already. Her eyes were too wide, too large, and very green. Her breas
ts… well, those were too small for the hips she had, she scowled at her shape. More pear than hourglass, with those hips.
I doubt clothes would do anything about that.
She pulled her top down, hoping to hide her shape, but a man came to mind. A light–eyed man with an easy smile that used to make her senses buzz as if she were intoxicated. The same man who’d told her she had a perfect body, a woman’s body, full of curves.
Now she realized, he’d never meant it. If he had, he would’ve never left without a backward glance.
She wished she’d been able to do the not-looking-back thing.
She hadn’t.
She couldn’t.
Her nightly dreams were filled with visions of a man who was so stunningly handsome, he took her breath away.
Every damned night. Every dream. Visions of one man played through her mind. Of course, in her dreams he was eighteen, the age he was the last time she saw him. Now she knew he was much older. More than a decade had passed.
She also knew he was far more handsome than he’d been back then. His younger, less mature face had fulfilled the promise of chiseled, glorious manhood. He was the type dreams were made of.
Of course he was. Dane Snow, the man she’d always known as Dane Forester, had grown up to become Hollywood’s latest heartthrob.
He played in all the latest action movies, the Hollywood magazines said. Doing his own stunts and his own co-stars.
She tried not to let the sting of that get to her. Tried and failed.
Of course, he did. He was a snow leopard shifter. Movie stunts were no big deal to a man with his physical prowess.
What about sex? Was that not a big deal to him either? Plowing his way through starlets and models?
Fuck him.
And fuck this upcoming bonding bullshit.
No, Glory Aleman, daughter of the ivy shifters was not the least bit excited.
Chapter Three
Dane ushered Ashley and her friend out of his trailer after giving them a few moments to get dressed.
They left under duress, protesting, asking him why they couldn’t have a little bit of fun with him.
“I have things to do today.”
Things.
Like getting to the mountains and shifting into his snow leopard and running it all off. All his emotions. All the memories of Glory.
He’d spent a lifetime immersing into roles to be anyone but the heartbroken solitary leopard shifter he was, and yet, he’d come full circle, here he was again, no different than the young man who’d walked away from Glory.
Walked?
A sneer crossed his face.
I didn’t walk.
He wouldn’t have walked away from Glory.
He was pushed away.
Not that it mattered at this stage. Glory was dead. If he hadn’t allowed himself to be run off, maybe she’d be alive now.
Maybe.
* * *
A few short hours later, Dane pulled into his favorite rest stop off the interstate. Good thing they weren’t shooting too damned far away. He was on his four-wheeler, a nondescript vehicle that would get no attention and allow him the anonymity he needed for the next step.
Baseball cap and dark sunglasses on, he slipped away and into the trees, making like he was just another tourist.
He stopped when out of range of prying eyes and cameras and stuffed his keys into an abandoned hole in a tree because though his clothes shifted with him, none of the articles he carried did.
Time to shift.
He didn’t shift often enough and was out of practice. For him it was a bone-crunching, sinew-tearing event that took longer than it should.
I really should shift more often.
He leapt through the heavily wooded area, relishing the freedom and solitude. He ran and ran, loping through the forest, ignoring the rare bear he came across. Tiny mammals scurried out of his way, as he sought the replenishing solace his soul would get.
Memories of the past chose this time to infiltrate his subconscious, probably because his leopard granted them access that Dane would not.
* * *
Years ago…
Dane was fourteen years old, in his leopard form, exploring Uncle Frank’s land at Bitter Falls. He heard voices, and curious, he stalked the sounds, using his snow leopard skills to keep him hidden while he crept through the underbrush.
He encountered a brick wall, and knew the sounds came from the other side. The brick was part of a building. He traversed every side, scouring for a door or gate into the building, ever more curious about the voice he heard. The building wasn’t large, more like a small cabin, really.
Her voice was low, so low he couldn’t make out the words, but not too low for his leopard to pick up.
Puzzled that he couldn’t find an entrance to the little building, he gazed at the top of the brick wall. He could do the jump. He could leap quietly and see what was on the other side. There didn’t seem to be a roof on the building, so he should have an unobstructed view.
He hunkered low, muscles bunched and with one powerful launch was on top of the brick wall, balancing carefully.
He scanned the building. It wasn’t a house at all. Nor a cabin. It was a walled garden.
But who was talking? He looked between the trees, the thorny bougainvillea growing on the walls, the rose bushes in the center.
Nothing.
No human at all.
And he picked up no human scent. Nor animal scent.
How can that be?
At the far end, ivy leaves rustled, as if moving with the wind.
Except there was no wind.
“Someone’s watching us.” The ivy moved, softly swaying.
“Who is it,” the other voice said. A different kind of ivy, larger leaves, a darker green moved this time.
Plant shifters? He’d heard they existed, but he’d never seen any.
Dane cocked his leopard head.
“Yes, I see him. It’s a cat.”
Were they talking? Or were they linked, minds synced the way shifters did, to communicate when in their shifter form, able to talk in each other’s heads.
How can I hear them? Is it because they’re plant shifters? Does their linking work differently? There was only one way to know.
“I’m not a cat,” he interjected in the middle of their sync.
“Oh, Glory, it’s a talking cat.” The darker green ivy with larger leaves said.
“I heard it,” the lighter colored ivy said.
“I’m not a cat.” He leapt down, faced the two ivies, glaring at them with his fiercest snow leopard glare.
He studied the lighter ivy. Something about it hooked his attention. “How can an ivy have a name like Glory? Or any name at all.” He swatted at her leaves.
A cry emitted, loud, girlish. “You hurt me, you mean cat.”
The ivy rustled and rippled, as if the wind were blowing it again, though this time as if the wind were gusting.
Before Dane’s very eyes, the ivy shifted, the light colored leaves becoming a human body, topped with the darkest red hair and lightest green eyes he’d ever seen on a human.
“I’m Glory,” she said. Her hand cupped over her arm, tiny rivulets of blood seeping between her fingers. “And you hurt me.” The glare she gave him matched his own.
He shifted into his human skin. “You called me a cat.”
She scowled. “You’re not a dog.”
“I am not a cat. I’m a snow leopard. What are you?”
She looked at him as if he had lost his mind. “I’m an ivy, duh.”
“I’ve never heard of a plant shifting into a human.”
“We keep to ourselves, our own kind. We don’t talk to other kinds of shifters.”
“Why not?” Suddenly he felt as if he wasn’t good enough. A plant was making him feel that way.
Except this girl wasn’t a plant. She was a pretty thing, about his age, with fair skin, red hair, luminescent green eyes and a sa
ssiness that appealed and yet repelled him.
“Glory, Honor.” A voice from outside the walled-in garden said.
Glory put a finger over her lips, a warning in her eyes that he wasn’t to say a word. “Yes, Mother, coming.”
“See you later, Mister Cat.” She opened a door that wasn’t visible from the outside and slipped out of the walled garden.
Honor, who clearly was the other ivy, shifted into a human form, near the same age as Glory, with hair more brown than red and eyes that were a deep, dark green. She looked at Dane, gave him the once over and dismissed him with her glance.
She followed Glory out the door, promptly closing it behind her, effectively sealing Dane from anyone’s view, but also assuring he could see nothing.
He shifted back into his leopard immediately and jumped to the top of the wall, then over, landing on the ground softly, his paws alighting on the soft dirt.
He looked around.
No sign of the girls. Neither one of them. Nor of the voice that called out to them.
… and that was Dane’s first encounter with the one who eventually impacted every major decision he made.
* * *
His phone rang. He looked at the screen. The area code was Bear Canyon Valley. Had to be Mae.
He tapped the phone’s screen to receive the call. “Aunt Mae.”
“Dane Forester, as I live and breathe. If it weren’t for the movies you star in, I’d wonder if you were still alive. You’re not very good at staying in touch with family.”
“Sorry.”
“No, you aren’t, but that’s okay. I know you snow leopards like your alone time. Though for the life of me, I don’t see how you get that when you’re always in the public eye.”
They don’t get to see me. They see the roles I play. “I juggle it, Aunt Mae. Stan said you called, that Uncle Frank died.”
“He did.” She sighed, a sound that came across more as static on the cell phone to Dane. “They’re reading his will.”
Dane didn’t respond. He didn’t have hard feelings toward Uncle Frank, but he couldn’t imagine being back in Bitter Falls. A pain knifed through him, a pain so severe it pulled his breath from his body and left him in a void.