A Shifter's Second Chance

by Marie Johnston

  “He said there would be canned goods for us.”

  “Good,” Gray snapped.

  Okay. His mood had darkened, not improved.

  He stopped and glared over his shoulder, but not at her.

  Oh hell. He wasn’t having a mental breakdown, was he? “Gray, is it…?”

  “Yes. I swear I hear them taunting me.”

  “Who?’

  “Them.” He turned and kept hobbling along the trail.

  Stabbing someone was hard for him to reconcile. The man breaking down a door to his house was one thing, so was the frying pan Gray had used to bash him over the head.

  A knife made everything too real. Or for Gray, too surreal.

  “What do they say?”

  He sighed and stopped. “They’re telling me I’m in trouble and not to trust anybody, which is hard because they’re not wrong.”

  No, they weren’t. It hit her how hard it was for him. He’d been in a fight for his life, and his intuition had blended with the voices to tell him he was in trouble. For a man who’d had to learn how to navigate daily life based on whether he believed the voices or not, his black and white had turned all…gray.

  “Oh, Gray.” She closed the distance between them and stroked his face.

  He flinched and paled. “My meds.”

  She held up the bag and his shoulders sagged.

  They faced each other for a moment before he said, “The worst is what they say about you.”

  “The voices?” How bad was it? If he had a hard time trusting her because of them, then their stay in the cabin could turn ugly. He might try to escape and hurt himself. Worse yet, she’d have to stop him and then he’d really have a hard time around her.

  “What do they say, Gray?”

  His eyes glimmered with the torture he hid from everyone. “They say I’m hindering you. That you can’t wait to get away from me and if anything goes wrong, it’s my fault. That…once we get back, you can’t wait to laugh with your friends about me.”

  She skimmed her thumbs along his jaw. She should stop touching him. “I can assure you that last part’s not true. I don’t have any friends.” His expression lightened, but her humor wasn’t enough to chase his demons away. “Just keep talking to me. Okay?”

  He nodded. They continued along the trail.

  The tidy cabin came into view. There was no porch for viewing the sunset over the trees, and it wouldn’t have done any good. This far away from the lake, the trees stretched high and the landscape rolled and swooped in gentle hills.

  The landing barely had space for a person, which made sense from a security standpoint. Fading wood lent the cabin a dilapidated appearance, but as they approached, the sturdiness of the structure was more apparent and the washed-out color was actually a stain. Crafty shifters. No camper would care to look around or squat here, and if they did, they wouldn’t find anything useful except, hopefully, bottled water and canned goods.

  “Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

  Gray contemplated her offer, but the faint trace of suspicion in his eyes left her uneasy. “No. I need a quiet place to rest. I jolted my ankle pretty bad and it’s been hanging down instead of being elevated. It just might be the pain making the voices louder than normal.”

  “Is the paranoia constant?”

  “Not always,” he said grimly. “It comes in phases. I’m usually militant with self-care, but the last couple of days have upended me.”

  And the sleepless nights, injuries, and stress were getting to him.

  “Should I message the commander and tell him to give us an extra day here?”

  Gray paused. “Do you think he’d go for it?”

  “If I explain the situation, maybe.” Probably not, but she’d try. “Let me go inside first.” When Gray gave her the side-eye, she explained, “Just in case there’s someone trying to claim it as their own, furry or two-legged.”

  He nodded. Had her words made his paranoia better or worse? She’d work on being more transparent.

  The door swung open easily. No locks. That shouldn’t be an issue. On the inside, there were deadbolts and latches. Perfect. She sniffed and let her senses roam. Nothing that she wouldn’t expect in a cabin in the middle of the woods prickled her senses. No artwork, no frills, no decorations.

  She held the door wide open. “Come in. There’s a few chairs. I’ll scoot two close so you can prop your foot up.”

  He hobbled inside and peered around. “Their decorator should be fired.”

  His dry tone coaxed a smile from her. “Yes. Appalling.”

  Moving two folding chairs together, she arranged them so he could recline. Plush comfort wasn’t available, but perhaps there was a bed or a cot he could relax in. He sat down with a heavy breath and stretched his foot onto the other chair.

  His eyes drifted shut and the lines of fatigue were more apparent than she’d ever seen. Before, he’d looked strapping for a fifty-year-old human, but today, he looked his age.

  There was no spare room and no bathroom beyond the great outdoors, but there were two cots folded in the corner and a trunk she hoped contained a blanket or two. The space that was supposed to be a kitchen was just a bare corner with a few boxes stacked.

  Digging into them revealed canned chicken, green beans and peas, and another two boxes with bottled water.

  “The good news is there’s food. The bad news is there’s no plumbing.”

  He didn’t open his eyes. “Perfect.”

  “I’ll get us something to eat and then set up the cots in the other room. I can sleep out here and keep watch and patrol occasionally while you get some rest.”

  He lifted his head and pinned her with his intense gaze. “I can help, too.”

  “I know, but you’re better off resting. We still have to walk out of here tomorrow.”

  He frowned. “I feel useless.”

  “You’re not.” She went over to him and perched on the crate. “You and I, we’re partners. If I were injured, you’d do the same thing.”

  “You’ve had the same flight through the woods, jumped down the same ravine, gotten just as little sleep, fought two shifters—no, three, counting the one in my house. You’ve done all the driving, and you made the same trek up here.” His gaze brushed her face in a way that called up her feminine pride. “And you do it while looking better and better. Your gorgeous eyes are bright, your cheeks are flushed, and your body moves like it was made for this life. Which I guess it was.”

  His compliments and admiration had no business making her glow like they did. It didn’t help that she knew him well enough to know he was being sincere. And if she hadn’t known him, she could still sense it. Honesty, respect, and male interest radiated from him. It was a potent combination.

  How much had changed since she was younger and unmated? Then, only the brawny, quick-tempered males who picked fights with anyone and everyone had garnered her attention. When she’d first spotted Bane, he’d just won such a fight. He’d only been traveling through her village and had challenged their leader. Bane had been bloodied, battered, and pulsing with more energy to expend.

  She’d expended it all right. All night long.

  She could imagine how Gray had met his late wife. Long looks across a classroom or a crowded campus. Nervous chatter, summoning the courage to ask her out. Late dinners rolling into lingering kisses until they’d finally slept together. Awkward, sweet first times.

  Fifty years ago, she would’ve looked down on that with utter derision. How…tame.

  Suddenly, tame sounded nice. She’d had enough violence in her life. Most shifters accepted it, but she’d lived among humans too long. The majority lived a peaceful life, working hard to maintain a safe and serene environment, in their home at a minimum, if they couldn’t influence the world outside their doors.

  They were standing in silence. He gazed at her, not quite a stare, but as if he wondered what she’d do about his words. It was going to get horribly awkward if she
didn’t move.

  “You’re right. I was born for this kind of life, but it doesn’t mean I wish for it. Not anymore.” His look grew questioning, but she didn’t elaborate.

  She crossed to the food crates and dug out beans and chicken. There were no plates or utensils other than a can opener.

  “It’s going to be finger food tonight,” she said and gathered the supplies. She handed Gray a couple bottles of water and went outside to open and drain the cans.

  Back inside, she pulled a chair closer to him. They ate, nimbly digging and picking scraps of food.

  Gray sat forward, his leg still propped. “I’ve had worse.”

  She smiled. “Me, too. Slugs to be specific. My wolf prefers red meat like I do.”

  He dug into the bag of medicine and withdrew the bottle. After washing down the pill, he went back to eating. “Are you separate entities?”

  “No. We talk about our wolves like they’re separate, but they’re not. I think the same when I’m in my other form. But it’s like there’s a part of my brain that processes the world through a wolf’s eyes.”

  Gray deftly grabbed the last of his green beans and looked at her like he was waiting for her to continue.

  “As a wolf, I’m a hunter. I’m part of nature. I can’t talk so I process thoughts into actions. When I say she prefers red meat, I’m talking about the dismay I feel when I gaze at a slimy, wiggly thing when my belly is grumbling for real food. I can’t say ‘I’d rather have a steak’ but I know I’d rather have a steak.”

  “Makes sense. I wish I were as comfortable with the other part of me. If it felt like me, maybe I wouldn’t fight the paranoia. I’ve taken ownership of my disease, but I know those voices aren’t mine.”

  “You have to stay mentally fit to be able to differentiate between what they’re saying and what’s a part of you?”

  He nodded, his look appreciative. She understood. “Even now, they’re trying to tell me that I imagined everything and you’re all out to use me and I should run. But since I’ve been in here and put my ankle up and eaten, they’re not as…loud.”

  “How loud do they get?”

  “A cacophony. Deafening. The last time it got that bad was after Lillian’s death, but I still don’t go out much. A shopping mall taxes my nerves. I go to the same grocery store each time. I don’t make friends easily, and forget relationships. I’ve learned to live with it and that’s the most important thing.”

  A heavy blanket of sympathy draped over her shoulders. He’d finally been invited into the inner sanctum of his daughter’s life, surrounded by people who knew his challenges. The Synod would likely wipe his mind, leaving Gray back in his isolated world—and with a new dose of mental unbalance.

  He piled his empty cans together on the floor and drained his water bottle. “I’m going to run outside for a minute and then I’d better get some rest, if you don’t mind taking first shift. But, Armana, you need to rest, too. I will take a shift of watch.”

  He rose in a smooth move, wincing only slightly at the stiffness that had set in.

  She would’ve argued about him taking a shift, but lack of sleep wouldn’t do her any good. Gray’s senses might not be as acute as hers, but she’d be right next to him.

  She finished her chicken and beans. A nice rabbit would’ve been better, but she didn’t want to leave Gray to hunt. They couldn’t risk a fire to cook, which he’d need. Her, too. Unless she was in wolf form, she preferred her dinner rare, not raw.

  Setting up the cots took two minutes. The blankets would be welcome. Summer nights in and around Freemont this time of year didn’t dip below fifty-five or sixty degrees, but trying to sleep made it feel colder.

  By the time she’d arranged the wool blankets and pulled them back, Gray had returned.

  “That looks almost comfortable.”

  She chuckled. “I do what I can.” She stayed by the cot as he sat down. “Do you need help getting your shoes off?”

  He hesitated, laying his crutches down. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”

  “I don’t anticipate getting discovered. The rogues seem to have extensive resources, but they weren’t tracking Declan’s car, and I doubt they know about this place.”

  “I don’t want to hinder an escape. I’m enough of a drain on you.”

  She stood over him, too close really, and gazed at him. The anguish in his eyes made her want to comfort him. Before she could stop herself or tell herself what a bad idea it was, she stroked his face.

  Oh…sweet Mother Earth. The gentle scrape of stubble under her fingers opened a vault of need she hadn’t known she possessed.

  He was human, but he was male.

  The upset in his gaze fused with heat until his walnut eyes simmered with desire.

  She brought her other hand up to cup his face. He felt so good. Rough, soft, warm. Suddenly her whole body wanted to know what he felt like.

  Bending, she was scared he’d put a stop to what she intended. But his gaze fell to her lips and he planted his hands on her hips.

  Their lips touched. A light press that deepened until they parted their lips at the same time. Their tongues tangled.

  All of the wants she’d shoved away roared back. Her belly clenched. Heat bloomed between her thighs. Gray released her waist only to scoot across the cot until his back hit the wall with his legs hanging over the other side. He hadn’t stretched out before she’d kissed him, leaving room for her to straddle him.

  There were so many reasons this was wrong, but for now, she couldn’t think any of good enough to stop. She sank onto his lap as they devoured each other.

  He brushed her shirt up as he tunneled his hands underneath. His shaft was hard under his pants, but if she ground down, she glimpsed the release he could give her.

  His touch crept higher until he cupped her breasts. They were heavy, achy. She arched into him, the move breaking their kiss.

  She dragged in a deep breath.

  Gray kissed down her neck, sending shivers down her back. She ground down harder.

  “We should stop,” he said in a ragged voice.

  “I know,” she answered. When he nibbled a path to her collarbone, she groaned. “I haven’t felt like this in so long, Gray. I don’t want to stop.”

  “Me neither.” He released her breasts and moved to her waistband. Her fly was flipped open.

  “Yes,” she hissed. Rocking against his length with so many barriers between them was maddening.

  With her legs spread on either side of his, she feared he couldn’t get to her sex. But Gray was resourceful and determined.

  He wedged his hand between her and her shorts material. When his fingers hit her slick folds, he growled her name.

  She cried out and ground into him. His other hand was trying to lift her shirt and she helped him by rolling up. He yanked down her bra and caught a nipple between his teeth.

  She was lost in the sensation. So good. So right. So long since she’d had release.

  Back and forth, up and down, she rocked, seeking her finish. He held her in his strong arms and a sense of safety descended over her. He had her.

  He managed to switch angles and keep working her clit while he inserted a finger.

  “More,” she gasped.

  He thrust and inserted another finger. She slammed her hands against the wall on either side of his head. He licked and kissed her breasts and she rode his hand. Her hair swung behind her, and imagining the picture they made on the cot stoked the heat inside of her into a blaze.

  The tension in her uncoiled in a fiery blast. “Gray!” She shook, her orgasm taking over.

  He held her until she was done. When she opened her eyes, he gazed at her from under hooded eyelids.

  The tightness of his face wasn’t from stress this time. He hadn’t released and was almost shaking from the effort. But she sensed he wasn’t taking things further until he knew what she wanted.

  She was a shifter. She wanted more.

  Grabbing
his wrist and withdrawing his hand, she held his gaze as she wrapped her fingers around the zipper of her shorts and tugged down.

  He sucked in a breath. She backed off and they wiggled around until he was lying flat. His shirt had ridden up to show a delectable stretch of skin and a trail of hair that disappeared behind his fly. The broad tip of his cock pushed open his loosened fly. She perched on the edge of the cot and unzipped him. He sprang free.

  “I want this,” she said, taking him in her hand.

  “Whatever you want.” His voice was low and rough, just like his hands.

  She stood up and swiped off her shirt. It’d be easier for her to get undressed, but he wrestled off his shirt. When his hands landed on his pants, she stayed him with a shake of her head.

  She reached down to yank them past his ass. He clocked her moves with a predatory stare she hadn’t thought a human could make. When his gaze landed on her freed breasts, she let them sway as she shimmied his pants off of him.

  “Armana.”

  In one smooth move, she straddled him again, hovering over his straining erection. He clamped down on her hips but didn’t move her. He waited.

  She fisted him, placing him at her entrance, and sank onto him. It’d been so long since she’d been intimate on this level. Her body gripped him like she was afraid he’d withdraw.

  His hands loosened and his groan matched hers. He filled her, a pressure she’d missed terribly. She had orgasmed once already, but nothing stroked the right spots like a male. And she had one under her.

  She set a languid pace, not knowing how long he could last. From his clenched face, he was concentrating on not coming too early.

  She leaned over him, one hand holding herself up on the side of the cot, the other on his chest. The angle stimulated her clit against him as he stroked in and out of her.

  He braced his weight on his good leg and sat up to knead her breasts and roll her nipples between his fingers.

  She was getting close to another peak. He took over, thrusting into her. She was helpless against him and it was exactly what she wanted.

  “Armana, I can’t hold back any longer.”

  The scrape of his voice was enough to topple her over the edge. She cried out and shuddered, her climax washing over her. His fingers dug into her as he breathed her name. He went rigid and tossed his head back, his teeth clenching as he emptied himself inside of her. They strained with each other, scraping every ounce of pleasure they could.