by Holley Trent
“She got fed up.”
“Yes. Gods and goddesses both bless and curse. Most do more of one than the other. The story goes that she had never cursed anyone as viciously as her lover and hasn’t to this day done anything nearly as severe. One moment, he was laughing in her face. The next, he was a cat and stuck that way.”
Miles cringed. “So, every Were-cougar is descended from him? But how?” She was hoping bestiality hadn’t come into play, and she really didn’t want to think about the logistics of how it’d even be possible. She also didn’t think Hannah was going to like the sound of the story any more than Miles did.
“No. She turned others Cougar—others who’d supported her lover’s claims and spread malicious rumors about her. Those, she was less severe with because she knew they were only following their chief—their alpha, as he became. She built a small loophole into their curse where they could retake their shapes as men if they convinced their mates to accept them in a two-week period. They only had one chance. That was as generous as she could be, though she did loosen that caveat somewhat for the next generation so that the man could take his true form at any time after his woman accepted him, no matter how many years transpired.”
“Still, I imagine the women feared those first Cougars who returned home. They couldn’t have been very convincing, with them being unable to speak.”
“Yes, so very few were successful. The handful that managed to do so acted in ways that were familiar to the women. They were able to figure out who the Cougars were before they’d taken that shape and decided to adopt and take care of them, not knowing they’d change back.”
“They’d chosen their women well.”
Hank nodded slowly and locked that fluorescent gaze on her again. “The Fates are always whispering, giving us hints and clues that would lead us to good fortune, but we’re not always tuned in to it. Some Cougar men ask La Bella Dama for her help in finding women who might accept them, and she often grants us that wisdom, but for a cost. Her curse is very thorough and she holds a long grudge.”
“And the cost is what?”
His gaze fell to her lips. His Adam’s apple rose and fell with his swallow, and he pulled his mysterious stare back up to her eyes. “She gives us the knowledge, but she starts the clock. The moment the part of us that is cougar decides to accept a woman as mate, those two weeks begin. That’s why Sean and I kept our distance from you as long as we could, so our cougars didn’t get attached before we knew.”
“I see. So, it’s the men’s curse. Your daughters aren’t affected.”
“No. La Bella Dama is merciful to them. My sister is named in her honor. I think Dad hoped she’d receive extra blessings. The jury is still out.”
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to tell the women you’re interested in that story than to abduct them?” It had worked on her, after all. Sort of. She hadn’t known what the Foyes were up to when they’d taken her, Hannah, and Ellery from their tent, but over time, she had become sympathetic to their plight.
He shook his head. “Back when everyone was in the loop, yes. That was true. Villages were smaller and we were less spread out. Everyone knew about the Cougars and their curse, and women considered being chosen as a mate to be an honor, because they would have extra attention from La Bella Dama. In modern times, not so much. We live in an integrated society and we have to be careful who we tell. History has shown that the women who tend to make the best mates for us aren’t generally tuned in to the supernatural, and two weeks isn’t a very long time to give them a primer and earn their acceptance.”
“La Bella Dama’s revenge.”
He chuckled and nodded. “Yeah. That’s exactly what it is. We’ve found that the best way to sway our mates is to show them up front what we are, and once the shock wears off, they’re a little more understanding. Two weeks still isn’t a very long time, but more often than not, it’s enough.”
“Thank you for telling me. I don’t know if it’ll help, but I’ll try what I can.”
“What do you think she’ll say? I think Sean is resigning himself for the worst happening, and I kind of agree his odds are pretty bad. She’d have to make a hell of a one-eighty, or else Ellery would have to learn some new spells and soften her up a little.”
“Unfortunately, she’s not that kind of witch.” Hannah would probably say Good for the fuckers, they probably deserve it, and leave Sean to his furry fate just out of spite. She’d always been reckless that way, though. She very rarely saw that what was good for her was right in front of her face. Sean could very well be good for her.
But maybe Miles was guilty of the same thing. Maybe if she knew what made La Bella Dama deem her and Hank compatible, she’d know what it was she was supposed to be doing for Hank…or just as important, what he was supposed to do for her.
Perhaps I should think like a Cougar and ask the goddess myself.
Miles rolled her wrists, relieved that some of the ache was starting to go away. She suspected some of it had been psychosomatic from stress and fear, but any real symptoms would ebb soon, thanks to her afternoon blood draw.
“I think with Hannah,” she said, “we might need a little more than godly intervention. Might take a miracle.”
“Those are pretty hard to come by.”
“Hope isn’t, though.”
He didn’t say anything. He just turned his head toward the hellmouth and picked up his chili.
“Do you have something against hope, Hank?”
“I guess I just tend to be a realist regarding most things. I’m all about probabilities and chances. Cougars are constantly calculating and recalculating outcomes. Assessing risks and strategies. Bleeds over to the human parts of our brains, too.” He spooned some chili into his mouth and muttered, “For better or for worse.”
“You really don’t think they’re going to get it together.” A statement, not a question. Perhaps she didn’t know him all that well, but she could read his thoughts on that one thing. They were written in his face, in the hard set of his jaw and the slight furrowing of his brow. It was practically a frown for him.
She didn’t think he was going to respond and thought he was ignoring the question entirely. He ate and stared at the desert. Chewed and watched. She wished drawing words from him was an easier thing. He was so hard to read from one moment to the next, she couldn’t tell what he was thinking about her, or anything, for that matter.
She pulled her feet beneath her and leaned onto her door, scrolling through the apps on her phone. She sighed at all the camping- and hiking-related ones. She’d be deleting those soon enough. Before the series of adventures with Ellery and Hannah, she’d never been camping and she had no intention to ever do so again.
“I know Sean will do what he can to make it work.” Hank’s statement seemed to come out of the blue, and it took Miles a moment to figure out what it was in reference to.
“So, you’re saying it’s all up to Hannah.”
“Yeah. It’s the way it should be, but no one wants to think it’s going to be so hard. It’s a life-or-death kind of thing. Some would say living in a cougar form full-time isn’t much of a life at all. Others would say it’s better than nothing, and to hope for more in the next life.”
“I’d like to get the most out of the one I have now.”
“And what does that involve? Hmm? What’s your life’s goal?”
“Other than leaving the world better than I found it?”
“That’s ambitious enough.”
“Not ambitious at all, the way I see it. I consider that baseline. Bare minimum.”
He bobbed his eyebrows and reclined his seat several degrees. “Bleeding heart.”
“You make that sound like a slur.”
“I don’t mean to. I just don’t understand the mind-set. Cougars tend to be wired for isolation. We have to try harder than most to care about people who aren’t closely related to us, which is why most alphas fail their glarings. Why the first alpha failed his f
ollowers, I guess.” He freed his hair from the messy knot he’d tied it into at some point in the evening and put his head against the headrest.
Her mind and body seemed to be working on different accords, because she reached out and stroked the hair over his shoulder. She’d wanted to see if it was as satiny as it looked, and suddenly her hand was there stroking, and her eyes felt wide as saucers. Mortified. He wasn’t a house cat offering himself up for petting, though his hair was soft and smooth.
She pulled her hand back and whispered, “Sorry.”
“It’s all right. You can touch it all you want. Just don’t call me Fabio while you’re doing it.”
“I…I think I’m done.” She found her water bottle and fiddled with the cap some more.
“You sure?” He took a length of it in his hand and fondled the ends. “You look like you want to.”
“You’ll just tease me if I do.”
“What makes you think that?”
“That’s how men are. They lure you in, and when you do exactly what they expected, they mock you for it.”
“Not—”
She passed her hand over his mouth. “Don’t even say it. I know what was coming. Not all men, right? That’s what you all say.”
He arched a brow and shrugged. She started to pull her hand back, but he grabbed it and pressed her palm to his nose. He drew in a long breath, then let her have her hand back.
“Damn, I’m not in there at all. I don’t think a shower will make much of a difference. You smell like everyone except me.”
“I’m not entirely sure what can be done about that. I can’t avoid people, now that they know I’m here. I made promises to people. They’re going to call looking for me.”
“How many promises can you possibly have made in one day?”
“You’d be surprised at how many promises a person makes when they’re not paying attention. It’s so easy to have one slip through your lips in casual conversation. I promise. I swear. I will. We’re constantly making little commitments, and because we speak them so lightly and so easily, we sometimes lie to ourselves that it’s okay if we forget to follow through. We tell ourselves that no one will remember it, anyway. It’s important to me to follow through, whether it’s a little thing or…or some big thing.” Like promising herself to a Cougar she barely knew. She swallowed and fixed her gaze on the dashboard clock’s luminescent display.
“How do you not get taken advantage of?” he asked softly.
“I do, and pretty often, but I’m not naïve. I guess I’m like a Cougar that way. I’m always calculating risks, and more often than not, I take the chance anyway and hope things will turn out well all around.” Hard as it was, she looked at him. He had that same inscrutable expression, but she was starting to be able to discern its nuances. Of when he was a little angry. A little amused. A little curious. At the moment, he seemed curious.
He let out a long breath and bent his hand around the back of her neck. His calloused thumb wrapped around and drew gentle lines up and down the front of her throat. “Need to figure out how to get my scent to stick,” he said in a raspy whisper.
She swallowed and dragged her tongue over her dry lips. “What do wildcats usually do?”
“There’s a lot of rubbing involved. Like this.” He pulled her closer by the waist and pressed his hands to her cheeks. As he leaned in, she closed her eyes and drew in his spicy scent. He bussed his lips across her forehead, and as his hands worked down to her shoulders, he rasped her cheek with his rough one. “Glands aren’t the same. Hormones aren’t quite right, so it’s not as easy for us,” he said into her ear before grazing his lips across that, too.
Her breath caught and her spine arched as he nuzzled down her neck to the ticklish place where it transitioned to her shoulder.
Tugging her T-shirt’s collar away a bit more, he laved his tongue across the sensitive flesh and immediately set his teeth to the skin, only to lick away the sting before she could even work up a moan. The pathetic little sound seemed to pull him out of his animalistic endeavor. He drew away, breathing hard through his mouth and with his pupils gone large, catlike orbs in the faint light. She could see her startled mien in their glassy reflections.
His swallow was audible. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“My bite can’t hurt you—won’t turn you when I’m in my human form—but I should have asked first.”
Was that all? “That would have certainly taken the spontaneity out of the moment.”
“Still. You should expect better from me. I can’t hold other Cougars to such high standards if I’m not managing to live up to them myself.”
“You don’t have to ask permission for everything. I mean, I’m pretty good at saying no in very clear terms when I don’t like something.”
His arched eyebrow adequately conveyed his disbelief of that. Well, she’d just have to show him. The stop-and-start nature of their relationship—or was it even a relationship?—was going to drive her insane. One moment, she’d think there was some attraction there, and the next, he’d be cold as ice.
Sighing, she pulled her feet up beneath her again and leaned her head against the door. There had to be a key to unlocking the Cougar’s passion. Maybe she didn’t have it…and maybe she never would.
Passion.
She straightened up a bit and looked at him. “What about you, Hank? You asked me what my life goal is. What’s yours?”
He twirled his spoon and grated his teeth, looking straight ahead. She didn’t think he was going to answer. She put her head back against the window and closed her eyes.
“I don’t have one anymore,” he said, and turned on the radio.
CHAPTER TEN
It was a wonder Hank was able to get any work done at all with Miles’s various comings and goings over the next few days. Every time he saw Mom’s truck kicking up dust, he stood there at his workstation staring through the big shop window until the truck disappeared. Every time he saw Miles tracking across the converging front yards to attempt a visit with Hannah or keep an eye on Nick for a little while, he stood in the doorway with his hands stuffed in his pockets wondering if he should take a break.
Mason ended up making the decision for him. His big brother and alpha sidled around him and gave him a hard pluck to the forehead.
“Goddammit.” Hank rubbed the spot where a knot would surely be forming soon. “What the fuck was that for?”
“I thought you were the smart one.”
“I never made that assertion.”
“You need to do something about her scent soon if you plan on making yours stick.”
“I’m not sure what I can do. I can’t exactly tie a lead to her and keep her attached to me all day long.”
“And you shouldn’t have to. I mean, I don’t get it. I didn’t have this problem with Ellery. She took on my scent at a pretty predictable rate, and I didn’t exactly have her sitting on my lap all day.”
“Might be contamination,” Sean called out from the back of the wood shop. He was still tired, but at least he wasn’t bruised.
Hank leaned against the door frame between the front office and the shop and waited for his brother to finish eying the length of wood he held. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve been asking around about La Bella Dama’s legend. Talked to Tito and some others, trying to compile as much information as I could so I'd be able to think up one thing that’ll help gentle the merry murderess in my basement. Jeez.” He rubbed his chin as if remembering some phantom bruise that had long since healed. There had been one there yesterday, so maybe he really was still feeling it. Hannah had tossed a can of soup at him, and being as sleep-deprived as they all were, Sean’s reflexes hadn’t gotten him out of the way quick enough. “Found out something interesting. Way back when our race first came into being, the women were kept in isolation until the scents locked. It could be that being around other Cougars cancels out any existing scent she already has.”
“That’s my theory. You might want to find out who she’s been rubbing up against.” Sean chuckled.
Hank opened his mouth to suggest his brother kindly go fuck himself, but realized that, hell, he actually didn’t know who Miles had been rubbing her sweet little self against or who’d been rubbing against her. He wouldn’t put it past some of the other Cougars in the glaring to try to get a few rubs in just to piss off their second-in-command. Didn’t he have a right to ask who she’d been around?
He returned to his workstation, picked up his eye protection, only to get distracted once more by a certain prissy usurper walking toward Mom’s truck with keys in hand. Where the hell is she going now? He dropped the glasses and jogged to the door. “I’ll catch up later,” he called back.
“No hurry,” Mason said as the door closed.
Hank made it to the truck just as she started the engine, and he opened the passenger door. If she was startled to see him, she didn’t act like it. She just calmly and surely inserted her seat belt’s tongue into the buckle and cranked the seat forward a few inches. “Hi.” She fixed her shirt beneath the belt. Must have been new. Peach-colored slouchy thing with a wide neck that showed off way too much damn shoulder. No tan lines from tank tops or where her bra straps should have been.
He squinted and canted his head to identify lines and seams beneath her shirt. There were none. Scanning down farther, the excited peaks stabbing against her shirt left no room for doubt about what she wasn’t wearing.
“Hank?”
“Yeah?”
“You okay? You’re making weird snarly noises.”
“Who could blame me? You make a habit of going out dressed like that?”
“Like what?” She looked down at her shirt and shorts. “I thought it was perfectly appropriate for a woman of almost thirty. Everything’s longer on me because of my height. If I were average height, these shorts would be Daisy Dukes.”