by Nancy Gideon
Kendra waved off the others with their outrage and sympathy, her own emotions too close to the surface not to burst through however unwisely. “It’s easy for the three of you to give advice. You’re safe with your doting men and big bellies.” The trio exchanged confused glances. Kendra plowed on blindly, pulling her hand free of Brigit’s.
“Maybe a child isn’t the answer to everything,” she cried out, expressing her own fears. “But to us, it’s the guarantee of a future we don’t have now. If Tina was carrying his, he wouldn’t deny them. If I could conceive Cale’s—” She broke off, horrified by her declaration.
“Kendra, what are you saying?” Brigit demanded.
“That he’d find living with me more appealing than throwing his own life away.” She buried her face in her hands, turning away from Tina’s offer comfort.
“Kendra,” Nica said gently. “Cale isn’t himself. That’s not your fault.”
“Yes, it is,” she lamented. “I pushed him away. I fight with him over everything without trying to understand. I don’t know what’s wrong with me! I get upset over everything. He doesn’t even want to touch me anymore. I’m a weeping, screaming, hysterical shrew. No wonder he stays away.”
Brigit, Nica and Cee Cee exchanged knowing looks.
Kendra Terriot was worried about nothing.
*
The party ended soon after Kendra’s confession. Tina went to collect Oscar from school, Cee Cee to meet Max at his office for an update on his morning meeting, Nica to prepare for work, leaving Kendra to ride home with a suspiciously silent Brigit.
“I’m sorry,” she sniffled at last.
“For what?”
“Killing the mood. See what I mean? I’m such a downer I can hardly stand myself.”
Brigit reached over to squeeze her hand. “No, you’re not, sweetie. You’re just fine. You’ve had a helluva couple of months. I think you need to take hot stuff away on a honeymoon. I highly recommend it for therapeutic reasons.”
“He wouldn’t go with me, not until he’s finished whatever it is he thinks he has to do. I could murder your brother for bringing him here.”
“If it wasn’t that, it would be some other damn fool thing. Men. They’re never content unless we’re dangling off a cliff or they’ve got some crusade to wage.”
“So you’re saying it’ll never get better.”
“Depends. Would you be better off without him?”
“No.” She didn’t even have to consider it. “I just don’t know what to do, Bree. I don’t know what he needs from me—if anything at all. Maybe I’m just in his way.”
She laughed. “You charge in on a motorcycle, dragging his brothers behind you all because you sense he might need you. You’re selling yourself short. He was a beast before you, a wreck without you, and he thinks he can conquer the world as long as you’re at his side. You’re a perfect match. All he needs is for you to be you and for you to be there.”
Kendra heard his quiet petition echo.
“Stay.”
“Do you want to be his queen, Kendra? Do you want to be surrounded by his brothers, his problems, and his enemies every day for the rest of your life? Do you love him and yourself enough to share him with what he has to do to be who he is?”
“Yes. Yes, that’s what I want.”
“Then quit your whining, find him, and bang him brainless. Let the rest take care of itself.”
*
She didn’t have to look far.
Turow waited in the parlor like it was a dentist’s office. He came quickly to his feet when he saw her.
“Cale?” Alarm jumped in her voice.
“Up in your room. Sleeping.”
She blew out a breath of relief and turned toward the stairs.
“Kendra?”
Because it was the first time he’d called her by name, she paused. “What is it?”
“Our prisoner. It’ll be dark soon, and she’ll be outside with no comforts.”
“And you think I should care about her comforts after she tried to kill our king?”
He reddened, mumbling, “Of course not. Forgive me.”
She hadn’t had time to give Sylvia a second thought. Now that the female was forced to her attention, she couldn’t ignore that she was at their mercy even though she deserved none.
With a heavy sigh, she pulled her focus away from the room upstairs and promised, “I’ll see to her, Turow.”
“Thank you, my queen.”
Again Kendra wondered if she’d imagined his personal interest in their prisoner. She hoped she’d been wrong.
*
“I brought you some things, blankets, clothes. You and Brigit are about the same size.”
“Your cousin stooped to clothing me in cast offs? How very . . . charitable. And unlike her. I expected her to be here right beside you, gloating over the amusing sight of me caged like an animal.”
Kendra ignored the bitter jab as she fed the items between the bars. In spite of her harsh words, Sylvia took them eagerly and wasted no time pulling on the warm trousers and socks.
“I bet you’re both enjoying this.”
“You know, I thought I would,” Kendra admitted both to the other woman and to herself. But nothing about the destitute female’s plight sparked a vengeful glee. “But I can’t blame you for everything. I’ve seen the damage done to Cale under his father’s influence and know what he’s become once free of it."
“You think our situations compare? You’re a fool.”
“I’m not the one in a cage.”
That provoked a scowl. Sylvia turned her back to strip off the coat, Turow’s Kendra guessed, and her filmy nightdress, replacing it with the fleecy hooded jacket before confronting her once more with her dignity restored. Even dragged from her home, her face bereft of makeup, her hair in tangles, Sylvia Terriot was beyond beautiful. Except for her hard emerald stare.
“I’m sorry about your mother.”
She rocked back as if Kendra had struck her. For an instant, heartbreaking loss twisted her features then the vicious mask returned. “You don’t get to tell me you’re sorry after you sent them to hunt us down like dogs. What did you think would happen? That we’d surrender, and our apologies would make us all one big happy family again?”
“What did you think would happen,” Kendra returned quietly, “when you tried to kill our king?”
Sylvia sneered. “Cale is no king. He’s a thug, an animal, just like his father.”
“He’s nothing like Bram.”
Green eyes glittered maliciously. “Oh no? You weren’t there when he threatened to rip the meat off my bones until my mother confessed her sins. Why do you think she took her own life? To save herself from watching him torture and kill her child by inches. That’s the king you follow, the monster you bed.”
“You’re lying.”
A mocking smile. “You don’t have to believe me. Ask Turow. He was there and he never lies. Ask him what your mate becomes when you’re not twisting his balls to make him behave.”
She refused to let Sylvia see how those words shook her. Especially since she couldn’t discount them. Instead she asked softly, “Why do you make it so difficult to be kind to you?”
“I don’t want your so called kindness. It makes you weak. I wouldn’t show you any if our roles were reversed.”
Kendra grimaced at her own naïve expense. “So you’ve proven. Who do you think that makes the weaker between the two of us?” She started to turn, but Sylvia just couldn’t let go.
“He was the most exciting lover I ever had. And I had him often. He was going to make me his queen.”
Kendra slowly came around to face her. She spoke clearly, concisely, so there could be no misunderstanding. “Was, I believe, is the word. Unless he’s kissed you as if he’s starving and lingered over every inch of you as if you’re the most amazing thing he’s ever seen. Unless you’ve ever woken up beside him or heard him say he loves you. Every. Day. I’m not worried
. I’ll make sure someone brings you supper.”
*
Kendra found Cale stretched out face down on the bed still wearing everything he’d had on that morning from sunglasses to motorcycle boots. He slept deeply, soundlessly, probably where he’d dropped, since the covers were undisturbed.
Carefully, she slipped off the dark glasses and set them on the night stand then studied his relaxed features. The brief stab of Sylvia’s words brought a slight frown, but she pushed them aside. Because they didn’t matter. They had no power to hurt her. Finally, all frustrations and fears fell away.
Her prince. Her king. The man she loved with an enormity that eclipsed all else in her world. Because he’d become her world with that first kiss. Sylvia Terriot had no idea. Absolutely none.
She unlaced his boots and eased them off. His toes curled and spread in subconscious relief, but he didn’t wake. She stepped out of her own shoes and circled the bed, easing down on the mattress and slowly fitting herself against the line of his body. To be there for him when he woke.
Slipping her arm over the slow, steady movement of his ribs, she closed her eyes and let contentment steal her away.
*
He dreamed of water sliding over his body, of a lithe little figure wriggling against him. The sound of laughter, his, hers. Innocent, without care or thought to consequence. The heat of the sun baking against damp skin, the tips of their fingers barely touching. The deep throb of the boat’s engine carrying them away from delight and back to grim duty. Stop, he wanted to cry. Stop! Can’t we stay just a bit longer? But the moment was gone, never to return. That moment he’d offered from a pure heart, half of all that he was and ever would be as he fell into the pooling warmth of her uplifted stare.
I will love you forever, Cale Terriot.
Something twitched against his hip. He was lying on his phone. He started to reach for it when he brushed over the backs of slender fingers nudged in beneath his body. That hand he’d once longed to openly hold now his to cling to.
Smiling, he drew it up, pillowing his cheek in her open palm as he sank back into luxurious slumber. Where dreams of tender pleasure twisted into something far from restful.
The smell. Sweat, fear, blood. Nausea cramped his belly. His heart raced in a frantic rhythm as rivers of deep, vital red pooled and rose about his boots. His mantra whispered through a near paralyzed mind.
Be like stone.
The sounds. Sobs of terror, pleas for mercy, screams cut short as his own echoed silently within. His brothers, Wesley, James, pale as ghosts, their youthful features spattered with that warrior’s badge of crimson. His father, Bram the Beast, bending close enough for him to feel the sear of hot breath on his uplifted face as he spoke the words that scarred his soul.
“If you ask for mercy to be given, boy, you deliver it!”
With a gasp, Cale woke, not to the scene of a long ago massacre but to the one hope of his salvation.
He nudged into the hand beneath his face, drying the trace of tears he hadn’t dared shed as that boy who lifted a heavy blade, soul crying out in mute horror, “I’m sorry. Forgive me!” Only then did he dare roll his head toward her.
So beautiful. So pure, if no longer innocent.
“I’d forgive you anything.”
A bittersweet smile touch his lips.
Though unnaturally calm, his thoughts were clear. Thanks to whatever Susanna LaRoche had given him, he found it easy to sweep his nightmare away, allowing him to simply adore the serene vision beside him. His chance to make amends by replacing the life he’d stolen.
He brought her hand up to kiss each tip as he’d once dreamed of doing. Her fingers stroked over his lips in a light caress, dark eyes opening to meet his.
“How do you feel?” she asked softly.
“Like I’m still dreaming. It’s quiet. Nice.”
“I was worried about you.”
“I was worried about us.”
“Don’t be. We’re fine as long as we’re together.”
“Are we? Together?”
“In all things, my prince.”
He chuckled. “Not in all things. I don’t think I have the energy to give you everything.”
“Then we’ll keep things quiet.” Her thumb rubbed over his mouth, teasing him into taking a taste. “Nice.” She continued to outline his smile, coaxing him to nip and lick her fingers while their gazes held.
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
“Not yet.”
He lay still, letting her stroke his face and hair and throat with those light, soothing touches that after a leisurely time became the brush of her breath, her lips, her tongue, all very slow, very tender.
“You have no idea how much you mean to me,” she crooned.
“Show me.”
“My prince, my king, my love, my life.” She punctuated each descriptor with a soft kiss as her palms slid beneath the hem of his pullover, gradually inching it up and finally pulling it off him. Her attention drifted down his chest, all gentle strokes and feathery kisses.
“So hard, strong, fierce. So vulnerable, so lost.”
“Not while I have you.”
“Will you have me, my king? Will you let me have you?”
“I don’t know that there’s much you can do with me, but you’re welcome to try.
She smiled. “A challenge. How can I resist?”
His eyes started to close, the effort of keeping them open too great, until he caught a flash of movement. He reached up to rub her earlobe. “You found its mate.”
“I did. And now I have both it and you, and I’m not letting either one out of my sight.”
“Good.” His fingers grazed her cheek, her neck, drawing a line down to the front clasp of her bra. Knuckles grazing her breast lightly, he snapped the catch open so his palm could slip between fabric and flesh. So soft.
“I love you, Katy. I’m sorry I’ve been so far away. I couldn’t find my way back to you. I didn’t want you to see what I let myself become.”
“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”
“When I pushed you away, that wasn’t because of you. I’ve been seeing things that aren’t there, things from a nightmare that I can’t be sure aren’t real.”
“This is real. This is now.” She leaned into his touch while her own skimmed beneath the waistband of his pants, following the love trail south from his naval. Making him smile.
“Not much to work with. Like I said, a little too relaxed.”
“No hurry,” she murmured, cupping him, stroking him gently until his breathing deepened. “Oh. What’s this?”
“Nothing impressive, I’m afraid.”
“Not your best effort, but more than enough to work with.”
“Looks like you’re gonna have to do all of it, baby. I’m kinda useless at the moment.”
“That is so not a problem. You relax. You’re in good hands.” Kendra bent to caress his lips with her own as she opened his zipper and tugged his pants off his hips. She smiled against his mouth. “See. You just needed a little encouragement and fresh air.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“I like him,” Max confided as he settled his forearms on the porch rail next to Cale. He’d followed him out after he’d walked away from Helen’s excellent meal, unable to pretend he could eat it.
“Who?”
“Your brother, Colin. Once you get past the Terriot arrogance, he’s got a good head for politics.”
A narrow smile. “We’re not all dumb beasts.” At Max’s quiet chuckle, he added, “I thought the two of you would work well together. He’s less likely to blow up and embarrass himself . . . like his king did today.”
“It was no big deal.”
“It felt like one.”
“Silas is worried.”
“Silas is always worried.” A pause. “About what? That I’ll screw up?” Cale pushed off the rail and began to pace the length of the veranda. A light rain fell in the heavy shadows of the yard. He
felt that cold all the way to his bones. They ached with it, his muscles groaned with it. A fever of pain started to rise. He didn’t acknowledge Savoie when he fell in beside him.
“You didn’t eat much at dinner.”
“Are you my momma now?”
“Would she approve of what you’re doing to yourself?”
“Your old lady stays in town for the night and you get the sudden urge to act like you’re mine?” Cale drew up sharply to glare at the other Shifter. “That would be between me and my momma, and none of your business. Why are you pushing into it?”
“Because I like you, too, Cale. The boy likes you and looks up to you. Hell, even MacCreedy wouldn’t be happy to see you dead. You’re the only one who has a hard time giving a damn about yourself these days. Why is that?”
Cale started walking again, movements aggressive, angry because he didn’t know how to answer the question. The more he thought about it, the more his head ached. Despite the chilled air, a sheen of sweat broke on his brow. He wiped it away impatiently. Tremors shook through his hand, forcing him to make a tight, denying fist.
“Let Kendra know I’m going into town.”
He strode quickly to the steps, bounding to the slick stone walk leading to the garage. Half way there, he was already damp and shivering, shrugging his shoulders up against the back of his neck.
Cale inhaled her scent on the cool rain long before she reached him. He didn’t slow. She had to run to catch up, giving him time to harden his heart and toughen his mood before she hooked his arm.
“Cale, wait!”
He jerked to a halt and spun, intending to snap at her.
“I brought you your coat.”
She extended the leather jacket, her uplifted face peppered with moisture, from the cloudburst or tears. He couldn’t tell and refused to guess. He took it with gruff thanks. Without another word, she turned back toward the house. Suddenly he couldn’t bear for her to go.
“Katy.” That treasured nickname stroked like a caress.
They came together, holding each other with urgent need.
“Be careful,” she made him promise. “Don’t go alone. Please.” Her hands trembled against the sides of his face.