The Cougar's Trade

by Holley Trent

  “And you’ll never get it.”

  Miles laughed softly. Hank cut her one of his patented glares, though it didn’t seem as sharp as usual. Either he was losing his edge, or she was becoming desensitized.

  “What do you want from her?” Hank asked.

  “Had some info I figured she might like to hear.”

  “Last I checked, Cougar info needed to be directed to me or Mason. I’m assuming it’s Cougar info, unless you’ve called to gossip, in which case, I’ll tell you to have a good night and make sure you get your ass to work on time in the morning.”

  “Hey! I don’t gossip.” He harrumphed, and Hank raised an eyebrow at her.

  She winked, and whispered, “I’m pretty sure men call it something else.”

  He winked back, and she blessed the dark for hiding her cheeks, which had certainly gone red.

  “Miss Miles is sitting right here beside me,” Hank said. “You can go ahead and say what you need to say.”

  “Sorry if I don’t believe you, Second, but I’m gonna need a little proof. She was the one to set me on the snooping trail, so I report to her.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Darnell. Miles, say hello.”

  “How’s it going, Darnell?” she asked.

  “Hey! You really are there.”

  “Is that such a surprise? I’m his mate. It’d be expected that I’d be in somewhat close proximity to him, don’t you think?”

  “Nope. Mate or not, you could be keeping better company. Hell, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  Hank made a sputtering sound, and Miles pinched his lips between her thumb and forefinger.

  That bothered him? What’s that mean?

  He made what sounded like an indignant harrumph behind her fingers before gently looping his own fingers around her wrist and pulling her hand free.

  “What did you want to tell me?”

  She gasped at the prickle of Hank’s stubbly chin on the sensitive underside of her wrist. He rubbed it back and forth across his cheek, and leveled a daring gaze at her. Try and stop me, it said.

  She wouldn’t dare refuse his offer of touch. When he was touching her, he was paying attention to her. He saw her. Seeing was the first step to knowing, and she wanted him to know her—everything about her—so he’d understand her and not be afraid of her or what she offered him. If he truly wanted stability, she could certainly give him that. More than that, she could give him passion in her own quiet way.

  “I went out snooping again, right?” Darnell said, effectively dousing her meandering fit of whimsy.

  Hank dropped her hand and groaned.

  “I’ve got one of those punch cards where if I buy four meals at regular price at the bar, I get the fifth one free, so last night, I figured I’d use it on a steak dinner. So, I got my food, and I’m in my usual corner chowing down, and who comes in?”

  Miles assumed it was a rhetorical question, but when he didn’t fill in the blank, she asked, “Who?”

  “Coyote alpha and a couple of his favored kiss-asses. I tipped my hat real low over my face and kept on eating, and they took their usual table right in earshot. I couldn’t pick up everything this time, but from what I did gather, the Coyote alpha’s in touch with the Sheehans. I wouldn’t be so sure they don’t figure out some way to kick up a stink again soon.”

  “Why does that not surprise me?” Hank asked.

  “Shit, you still there?”

  “It’s my phone, Darnell.” Hank picked up her hand again and held it under his chin. She wondered if he was even conscious he was doing it, but judging by his posture, which was growing more relaxed by the second, it seemed to relax him.

  Odd.

  “Oh. Well, duh, I guess. Anyway, I didn’t pick up on everything they were saying, just snatches here and there. They kept getting distracted, talking about other stuff. They tend to talk themselves in circles, and honestly, after a while, they were making my head spin. I think one of them looked my way at that point, so I put my head down real fast and started muttering to myself like I was drunk. They went right on back to talking, but I slipped out soon after that.”

  “Where are you now?” Miles rubbed the pad of her thumb along the edge of Hank’s jaw, then tipped his chin up and pressed her hand to his throat. “Are you sure you didn’t get followed?”

  “Touch me,” Hank whispered.

  Oh. She stroked up the strong column of his neck to his cheek and made delicate swirls along the line of his half-there beard.

  “I’m downtown,” Darnell said after yelling something to someone on his end. It sounded like he was still outside on the street. “Near that new housing development in Maria Heights. That’s where I live now. Coyotes don’t come out here.”

  Miles looked to Hank for explanation, but he seemed distracted by her fingers. His gaze angled downward to her hand in his periphery, and his fangs descended before her eyes.

  She yanked back her hand.

  He gave his head a shake and the fangs retracted. “Uh, too many shifters and other things live out there, and most don’t get along with the Coyotes.” He angled toward her a bit, locking her in a curious stare.

  “What kinds of things?” Maria Heights sounded like exactly the sort of place she should visit.

  “I think a couple of the coven members live out there, and a few other spooky types no one’s been able to peg. They’re not always so friendly to outsiders.”

  “Because outsiders aren’t always so friendly to them,” Lola said in Miles’s head.

  Miles cleared her throat and gave herself a mental pat on the back for not jumping from fright from the goddess’s surprise visit. “Uh, gotcha. Thanks for keeping an ear open, Darnell. I don’t want you to get yourself in trouble, though. Keep some distance from the Coyotes, and get home safe.”

  “Oh, I’ll be all right. They can’t outrun me in a fair race unless I’ve been drinking, and I’ve been pissing clear since Tuesday.”

  Hank groaned and disconnected the call. “Sorry. Next time I see him, I’ll tell him to stop bothering you.”

  “What makes you think he’s bothering me?”

  “Isn’t he? I just assumed you’d be too kind to say if he was and would need some help discouraging his attention.”

  “He’s just trying to help. Let him help.”

  “It gets really hard keeping track of who’s helping and who’s hurting.”

  Yeah, he’d said that before. Obviously, everyone was in his way if Hank hadn’t been the person to put them into position.

  “My burden is lighter. I don’t have a finger on the pulse of many things here, but I follow along well enough on the ones I do. Why don’t you just let me?”

  “You’re not really in a position to do anything about them.”

  “Neither were you last year, or the year before when the glaring was in such a state of chaos. I’m sure you didn’t know what your place was or what you should be doing for Mason.”

  “Touché.”

  “Not everything needs muscle. Some things just need thought. I’ve got plenty of time to think, and if something pops up that’s outside of the realm of my abilities, I’ll tell you.”

  He picked up his phone and twirled it between his fingers again, keeping his gaze locked on hers. It wasn’t his usual Second glare, though—the one that discouraged insubordination so Hank could justifiably put her in her place. It was the one he’d worn when his fangs had dropped and he’d looked like he wanted to bite her. Typical cat, trying to bite the hand that gives it pleasure.

  “That sounds like our Second, though I wonder why he does that.”

  Lola must have caught the tail end of Miles’s thought, though she couldn’t respond without giving the goddess away. It seemed to Miles, though, that if he were subtly asking for the attention, then he wanted it, even if he didn’t know what to do with it.

  “I think you’ve forgotten that it’s my job, at least as I understand it,” she said. “The ladies said I’m supposed to run interfere
nce and keep the petty concerns from reaching you and Mason. Although their idea of pettiness could use some adjusting, I think there’s some—no, a lot of—merit to what they said.”

  “Do you, now?” He tucked his phone into his pocket and leaned back against the cushions, still watching her. “Just what would they have you keeping from me?”

  “Not keeping things from you. Just keeping the things that aren’t so important off your radar so you have more time to focus on the major issues.”

  “Like what? What do the ladies proclaim to be major issues?”

  “Why are you so hostile toward their guidance?”

  “I’m not hostile. Not at all. I just think that too many hands in the pot spoils the soup. They see you as a lump of clay they can shape into what they need—their perfect emissary between them and the glaring leaders. They know you have my ear, and they’ll take advantage of it when they see fit.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh?”

  “I’m not as naïve as you make me out to be. Don’t mistake my quietness for a lack of common sense.”

  “I don’t. I just don’t want to see you get taken advantage of, especially not by Cougars.”

  “They’re not taking advantage of me. I asked how I could help.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I have to live here. I’m not going to keep myself hidden away while there’s so much turmoil around me. I may not have any magic or shapeshifting abilities, but I have a good brain. I can talk to people, relate to people.”

  He looked skeptical—that was easy enough to read in his tense jaw and slightly narrowed eyes. Who could blame him, though? She was having a pretty hard time relating to him, and he was the Cougar who mattered most, as far as she was concerned. She’d learned long ago, though, that even if she had strong proof she was in the right, pushing an argument just for the sake of having the final word rarely felt like a sweet victory. So, she pinched her lips and crossed her legs in front of her.

  Her gaze fell to the slick red, battery-powered lantern propped in the corner of the truck bed.

  “Got a bunch of those last year when we had to start doing these vigils,” Hank said, obviously noticing what her gaze had locked on to. “They’re pretty handy. A lot better than the propane things we used to use when we were kids.”

  “You went camping a lot?”

  He scoffed. “Seemed like it was all we ever did. If it wasn’t weekend sports, we were always in tents somewhere. Well, just us boys and Dad. Mom and Belle appreciated it when we cleared out now and then. I could tell you some hair-raising stories about a few particular trips.”

  She rolled onto her side and found him looking down at her. Watching her. “Tell me.”

  “Let’s see what I can come up with that’s not so embarrassing.”

  “Tell me the most embarrassing. Something that would make even a man like you blush.”

  “What do you mean a man like me?”

  “I—” She shook her head. “Uh, strong alpha type, I guess.” She couldn’t say what she wanted to say. Not tactfully, anyway.

  “What do I get in return? Because the story I have in mind is pretty shameful.”

  “I’m sure you’ll come up with something you’ll want to ask for.”

  His nod came slowly. “Yeah. I’m sure I will.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Hank pulled Miles’s cushion a little closer to his and straightened the pillow behind him. If they didn’t get the hellmouth sealed off soon, he and his brothers might have to look into installing a trailer where his truck was at the moment. Perhaps something climate-controlled and with a legitimate sofa. Miles wouldn’t be able to squirm so far away if she were lying on top of him on a sofa. He’d have an excuse for keeping her so close other than his inner cougar’s need to imprint on her. Her touch was fucking amazing, but it was supposed to be. She was his mate, and her proximity was supposed to soothe his inner beast.

  Let me at her, that animal said. Let her touch. Let’s touch her back.

  He craved it—both parts of him—and that made him feel entirely too needy. Too desperate, and he wasn’t so certain he wasn’t. He did need her, or at least his cougar half did. His cougar was unashamed of wanting her. Man-Hank still fixated on her shortcomings, because focusing on those stupid fucking things was easier than letting himself consider the possibilities. Possibilities had always only brought him disappointment in the end.

  “Tell me the story.” She pulled her knees up to her chest and tucked her chin over them. She should have looked childish like that, but she didn’t. She just looked soft and…touchable. He resisted.

  “Well, let’s see,” he said. “When I was fifteen, which would have put Mason at sixteen and I think Sean was thirteen at the time, Dad took us on a trip to see Bandelier—you know, where the ancient Pueblo people used to build their homes into rock walls. He was a geek about that kind of thing. Was always dragging us here and there from one national park to the next.”

  “Then there’s no wonder you and your brothers found us so easily at Arches, I guess.”

  He shrugged. “We knew the area. Lost count of how many times we’d been there. Anyway, we were at a pretty rustic campground. Basic tent camping, and it was the four of us in one tent.”

  “Four man-sized Were-cougars in one tent?”

  He chuckled. “It was a big tent, but still, yes, one tent. Couldn’t really get away from each other unless we wanted to sleep outside, and that’s not really something you want to do in places where the temperature may drop precipitously while you sleep.”

  Her blue-gray gaze was so intent, her focus so fixed on him while he talked, he couldn’t help but feel like the only man in the universe at the moment. At least, the only one with any significance. It was easy to figure out why it was so easy for people to let their guard down around her. She was so fucking guileless.

  He gave an experimental nudge to a short lock of her hair that curved against her forehead. It didn’t straighten. “Look at that,” he whispered, transfixed by the soft whorl. He nudged it again, then traced it with his index finger. “It does curl.”

  Her turn to cringe. “If I do grow it out, I’ll probably have to wear a hat for the next six months.”

  “Don’t trust Val to hold your hand through the transition?”

  “I just don’t know what it’ll look like, but I’m excited at the prospect of being able to rake it into a ponytail and go.”

  “I’ve always been averse to the word ponytail.”

  She toyed tentatively with the ends of his hair, and he held his breath, afraid she’d notice she was doing it and pull away.

  “Why?”

  He let out the breath. “Uh, because of Belle, I guess. She had those pastel pony dolls when she was a kid. Used to style their hair in some seriously garish configurations, so now I can’t think ponytail without thinking of tinsel woven in, plastic barrettes, or oversized ribbons.”

  Miles’s smile went from that sweet I’m listening curve to a sadistic Thanks for the ideas, stupid grin in about two seconds flat.

  “What the fuck?” He leaned back a bit to get a better look of that beguiling face. He would have thought she had fangs and a sudden desire to use them for how hungry she suddenly looked.

  “Hmm?”

  “You want to put tinsel in my hair? I’d give you free rein to do a lot of things, but I might have to draw a line at being prettied up like a carousel pony.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Carousel Cougar.”

  “Yeah, except no one’s riding me.”

  “Is that an observation or a complaint?”

  “Both.” Shit. Goddamn, the things that came out of his mouth when she got him started. He cleared his throat and waited for her to get her fill of fondling his hair. She didn’t.

  He adapted, turning his body more toward hers to give her a better angle to torment him. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had wanted to play with
his hair. Pull it, sure, but play with it? Nope. Felt nice, but almost everything she did to him felt nice.

  “Anyway, we were into the second night of our trip and Mason had…”

  Miles reached to the other side of his hair. “It’s blonder at the ends.”

  “Sun exposure. I—”

  Her wrist passed right beneath his nose, a thrumming pulse point that magnified the feminine essence of her skin, and instinctively he pressed it to his lips. Kissed it, rubbed his cheek against it.

  “Still trying to imprint on me?” she asked softly.

  “No. I mean, yes.” Fuck that. The thought had barely crossed his mind at all in the past fifteen minutes. He just wanted to touch, be touched, and she was making it so damn hard to keep his hands to himself.

  “Wouldn’t closer to my core be more logical?”

  “You’re asking me to be logical?”

  She braced a hand on his shoulder and swung a leg over his lap. She settled onto his thighs, her front facing his, and continued her curious examination of his hair. “Better?”

  So much worse. He closed his eyes and swallowed, hoping his sleeping cock didn’t invite itself to the get-together. If she moved half an inch closer…

  She did.

  “Goddammit.”

  She went rigid against him. “Demon?”

  “No.” He let out a slow breath and lifted her by the ass to set her back six inches. “But you can use that as a euphemism, if you want. At least it’d be creative.”

  Her gaze sank lower. She wouldn’t be able to see anything. The bit of light coming off the lantern didn’t reach the gap between them.

  “Finish your story,” she said, her hands now pressed against his chest, but moving downward.

  “Um. I…” He swallowed again, his throat suddenly having gone very dry. “I ended up sleeping outside the tent because Dad had a snore that could wake the dead and—what are you doing?”

  Her fingers curled inside his waistband. “You’re warm, and my hands are cold. Finish your story.”

  He had some blankets in the truck. Somewhere. He could… He could what? Wrap her up in one like a little Cougar mate mummy and set her as far away from him as possible? Apparently, he really wasn’t so great at using logic at the moment, because if he had been, he would have been encouraging her to put her cold hands in his pants to disturb his sleeping demon. He freed his button, and she promptly pushed her hands around and down his backside. That put her belly right against his, her taut nipples through thin fabric enticing him. For her to not be especially forward, she was certainly the one in the driver’s seat at the moment. So to speak. He’d never been a see what happens kind of man. She had to understand cause and effect, being a nurse and all. If she rubbed him, he’d probably rub back. That was basic psychology—for both people and cats.