Changing Hearts

by Marilu Mann

  Pacing aimlessly, feeling more like a caged wolf than ever, he heard the two women talking, smelled the food as they prepared it and heard them sit down to eat.

  He didn’t move back toward the kitchen, just sat down with his back against the roof support and stared out at the bayou. He couldn’t go back in there yet, couldn’t believe they weren’t going to chase him out, shoot him, something.

  Fish jumped just beyond the banks and he heard a turtle plopping off a log into the water. They knew the truth about him and they’d both simply accepted it as a fact. That had not been his experience with other humans. What makes them so fucking special?

  He heard the door open, smelled Joie before she reached him. Slade looked up as she approached. She held a plate in one hand and a glass in the other. She stopped in front of him then held the plate out to him.

  Slade took it without speaking. Eggs, sausage, biscuits. He ate like a starving man, finishing the entire plateful of food in a matter of minutes. Joie didn’t speak either, simply sank into the swing and watched him. He saw her from the corner of his eye. He could see the way she stared at his tattoos, felt her eyes trace a path over his shoulders and arms.

  Slade put his plate on the porch next to him then met her eyes. Joie looked away for a moment then took a deep breath.

  “What’s it like?”

  “What?”

  “Being able to become something else? It must be amazing.”

  “I don’t know. It’s just what it is, what I am.” He couldn’t look at her. Her voice held too much compassion, too much curiosity.

  “When did you first find out that you could become something else?”

  “Two days after my fourteenth birthday.”

  “What happened?” She set the swing moving with a glide of her bare foot. Slade stared at her foot for a moment, studying the fine bones, the pale skin, then spoke tonelessly.

  “My uncle was beating the shit out of me, as usual, and I shifted. I nearly tore his arm off before my aunt threw a pot of water on me.”

  Joie sucked in a sharp breath and he heard her swallow. Slade glanced up and away from her, back out at the bayou. He normally didn’t talk about his past so why was he telling her the truth?

  “Where were your parents?”

  “Dead.”

  “You lost your parents too? I was sixteen when mine died when their plane went down. Dad loved to fly. That’s when I came to live here. What happened to your parents?”

  “My father killed my mother when he found out that she could shift, that she turned into an animal and that I probably would too, then hanged himself in jail. He might have killed me, only I wasn’t home.” Again, Slade spoke without emotion, she sent out enough emotional waves for both of them. She came off the swing and put her cool hand on his shoulder.

  “Oh, Malcolm. How awful for you. Were you very young?”

  “Seven.” He moved slightly and she pulled her hand back. Sympathy didn’t fit what he wanted or expected right now.

  “I’m so sorry.” Joie moved a little closer, sitting on the top step near him. “What did you do after the fight with your uncle? Didn’t the Pack protect you?”

  “There was no Pack, not then. My uncle wasn’t a shifter. I ran away. Found my first Pack when I turned sixteen.”

  “What did you do all by yourself for two years?”

  “I survived, Joie. What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know. I’ve never met anyone like you before. Does it hurt?”

  “No.” Slade stood and paced to the opposite end of the porch.

  “Why is your Pack going to try to kill you?” She settled more comfortably on the porch as she waited for his answer.

  “Alphas don’t run, okay? I was Alpha and I ran away from a fight. I’ve never run from a fight in my life and I took off like a scalded pup from this one. It’s cowardice, plain and simple.”

  He knew his eyes glowed again, and not from arousal this time. Slade shook his head then turned his back on Joie. His hands clenched into fists, every muscle in his body drew tight. “I fucked up and now I have to pay for it.”

  “They can’t hold your being poisoned against you, can they?”

  “That doesn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. I ran from a fight, that’s what they’ll focus on.” Slade ran both hands through his hair then clasped his hands behind his neck, trying to contain his tension and his temper. He knew she watched every move he made.

  “I wish I could help you.”

  Slade moved fast. He hit his knees beside her in an instant, gripping her arms. He shook her once, glaring at her. “Why? Why do you want to help me? What exactly do you think you could do for me?”

  “I, I don’t know.” She met his eyes and damn if he could see any fear in her. Slade exhaled sharply then moved in. He kissed her hard, forcing her head back. His teeth bumped against her lips and as soon as she opened her mouth, he thrust his tongue deep. Joie whimpered softly and Slade angled his head, releasing some of the pressure he’d been exerting on her.

  Easing himself down onto the porch, he pulled her closer without ever letting go. He held her half cradled in his lap as he moved one hand to her neck. Her pulse beat like a frantic bird against his fingertips. Her arousal tinged with just a hint of fear filled his nostrils.

  Slade moved slightly and she took a deep breath as she reached up to touch the side of his face. Joie slid her hand around his neck then tangled her fingers in his hair as he kissed her again. She moaned softly as his free hand trailed down her side. Slade moved his mouth to her neck, nuzzling against her ear, drinking in her scent. Only when he moved his hand back up her side and grazed the side of her breast did she jerked in his arms.

  “Malcolm, please stop.” Her voice played soft against the side of his face.

  With a low growl, Slade pushed her off his lap and back onto the porch. He stood, and with jerky movements, paced off the porch onto the soft grass. “You keep pushing me, little girl, and you’re gonna see just how much of a big bad wolf I am.”

  Slade yanked his jeans off, ignored her startled gasp at the obvious arousal of his body and shifted. He bounded to the edge of the woods then paused to look back at the cabin. Joie had come up to her knees to watch him with something like awe on her face.

  Giving a defiant growl, he turned and loped into the woods. Damn humans, damn women, damn me.

  Chapter Seven

  For several moments, Joie sat where he’d left her. Her lips throbbed from his kisses. Her whole body ached with a longing that ran deep. He was so impressively male, so strong. He’d had another tattoo on his lower leg, one she hadn’t noticed until he’d stripped in front of her. One she wanted to see again. And she wanted to see more of all of him.

  She moved to a more comfortable position as she thought about Malcolm Slade and her reaction to him. She’d never had to deal with anyone quite like him. Joie waited for nearly ten minutes and when he didn’t reappear in the yard, got slowly to her feet.

  Joie walked back into the kitchen. Tante had cleaned everything from breakfast. Now she packed clean linens and homemade medicines into her worn black satchel. Moving across the cool linoleum floor to the fridge, Joie fixed herself another glass of tea then turned to Tante Kay.

  “You knew there was something different about him the other night. You even said so. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Child, would you have believed me? You never seen anything like him before. Besides, it wasn’t my place to tell. There’s darkness about that boy. He seen some hard times and got more to come. You tangle with him, you’ll need all your strength. What you gonna do today?”

  “I’m mixing powders today. The herbs are dry enough. Where are you off to?”

  “The Hebert place. I been meaning to visit Marguerite for some time now. No time better than today. That’s something you should remember, cher. There’s never any time better than today. I’ll be back by nightfall.” Tante Kay picked up her satchel then grabbed
her big black purse and headed out the back door. “See you tonight.”

  “Be careful.” Joie took the satchel and walked Tante Kay to the car. She waved as the car disappeared around the bend in the driveway. Still no sign of Malcolm. His jeans lay right where he’d dropped them.

  Heading back into the cabin, Joie gathered a load of laundry. Malcolm’s shirt caught her eye. She picked it up, holding it close to her face, inhaling his scent. Flushing somewhat guiltily, she dropped his shirt in with the rest of the clothes then carried the basket out to the back porch.

  The washing machine might be old, but it ran perfectly. There was no dryer, just a clothesline hanging close to the back door. Joie ran through the mundane task of sorting laundry while her mind raced through the events of the past two days.

  Malcolm Slade was a shapeshifter. He could turn himself into a wolf, and did so rather frequently. He could also be the sexiest man she’d ever seen in her life. Until now Joie had never understood the lure of the “bad boy”. The one and only real relationship she’d had was with Bill, the man she’d left in Atlanta. As an accountant, there was nothing “bad boy” about him at all—except his attitude. Especially his attitude about children.

  “Damn!” Thinking of Atlanta still caused searing pain. Instead of letting that fresh wound burn, she turned her thoughts to the very sexy man who had just left her breathless on her own front porch.

  She wanted to know more about Malcolm. What had he been like as a child? What had his parents been like before the tragedy? Why the Pack seemed so important? Did he want to rejoin them if they would let him? Joie couldn’t imagine a way of life that would shun someone so effectively.

  She wished he’d come back so they could talk. He had said he wanted her, had kissed her nearly senseless, but had stopped when she’d asked him to. Bad boy or no, he had his own code of conduct. One that made him take his lips from hers when he so clearly didn’t want to. She wasn’t really sure now that she’d wanted him to that badly.

  Dropping the empty basket by the washing machine, she headed for her workshop in the converted woodshed. She checked on her “patients” then started grinding herbs.

  Sassafras leaves were put into a commercial grinder to make filé, a staple used in nearly every stew and gumbo she’d ever made. Willow bark would be next. It would help with headaches and such. Looked like the peppermint needed restocking as well. Tante must be treating a lot of stomachaches.

  Joie lost herself in the timeless art of grinding the herbs to the proper consistency. She mentally recited the herb lore she’d learned as a young girl at Tante Kay’s knee. Soon the shed filled with the pungent smells she associated with the healing arts. She stopped working only when her stomach growled.

  Walking from the shed to the house took just a moment, getting the clean clothes out of the washer and hanging them to dry consumed a few more minutes, and still no sign of Malcolm.

  Joie sighed as she entered the cabin. Her stomach growled again, reminding her that lunchtime had come. She grabbed some tea bags from the cabinet and filled a large clear jar with fresh water. Dropping the tea bags into it, she carried it out to the front porch. The sun would warm the water, allowing the tea to seep out and there’d be fresh tea for dinner.

  Joie made a sandwich, thick with meat and cheese then sat down to eat. She hadn’t eaten more than a few bites when a slight prickling at the nape of her neck had her leaning forward to see out the door. There’d been no sound of a car or a boat from the bayou. Joie swallowed quickly as a shadow fell on the porch.

  Malcolm appeared on the outside of the door and her unease disappeared. His hair plastered down with sweat running over his face, neck and chest, he still took her breath. His breathing sounded slightly uneven. He had pulled his jeans on and waited outside the cabin, watching her. Joie stood with a slight smile.

  “Do you want a sandwich?” She turned away as he came into the room.

  “No. A shower.”

  She almost smiled at his curt tone then she remembered the events that had led up to his abrupt departure.

  “I’ll get you a towel.” Leaving her lunch behind, Joie walked into the hallway toward the linen closet. She didn’t hear his footfalls on the wood floor, she simply knew he would be standing behind her when she turned so she steeled herself not to jump.

  Yep, there he is, big as life and twice as gorgeous. She held the towel out to him without speaking. Malcolm took the towel then started toward her bedroom.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Shower?” For the first time she heard uncertainty in his voice. She flushed remembering the wolf—no, Malcolm—watching her through her bedroom window.

  “You! You watched me!” Without thinking, Joie shoved on his chest.

  Malcolm backed up in surprise then stepped toward her. “Yeah, I watched you. I saw every inch of skin. I saw your nipples get hard. I saw your eyes. You knew I watched you and you liked it.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous! I thought you were a wolf! I didn’t know you were a werewolf.” She totally ignored his comment about her nipples and her interest.

  “Shapeshifter.” The emphasis he placed on the word wasn’t lost on her.

  “What’s the difference?”

  “I’m not half-wolf, half-man. I’m one or the other. And unless I’m in bloodlust, I can think like a human when I’m in wolf form.” He actually sounded proud of that ability. Joie stared at him for a moment then smiled slowly.

  “I really want to talk to you about that. Would you please tell me how it feels?”

  “You’re amazing, you know that?” His voice came soft now, the anger gone. Malcolm shook his head. “I’ve never met anyone like you in my life. The few humans I’ve known before were either scared shitless of what I am or they wanted to kill me. You, you want to analyze me like some fucking biology experiment.”

  “That’s not true! I just…” Joie sighed as she met his eyes. “I just want to know how it feels to be so free.”

  Evading the hand he lifted toward her, she moved back toward the kitchen. “Take your shower, Malcolm. I won’t ask you again.”

  She entered the kitchen and looked at her half-eaten sandwich. Her stomach rebelled at the idea of food now. She tossed it aside to take to the injured fox later. When she heard the water come on, Joie went outside. Walking to the end of the driveway, she picked up the day’s mail then walked slowly back to the cabin.

  The sunlight pounded down on her head and shoulders. The air felt like a thick, heavy curtain that she had to push her way through. Most people had their air conditioners on or sat near fans this time of day.

  Joie came back into the cabin. Hearing the rattle of the pipes, she realized Malcolm had finished his shower. She heard him moving around as she sat down at the table. Taking the weekly paper in hand, Joie started clipping coupons. She heard his approach this time and wondered if he made noise on purpose.

  “I want you to cut my hair.”

  “What?” Joie jumped then turned to stare at him. He couldn’t be serious. He had beautiful hair. She knew how thick it looked, how soft it felt. The color reminded her of cinnamon or maybe nutmeg. She remembered the feeling of the silky texture in her hands.

  “My hair. Cut it. Please.”

  She knew he’d thrown the last word in because she had locked her jaw. “You really are hiding, aren’t you?”

  “I told you I am. The Pack won’t be fooled by my having short hair but it might throw them off long enough for me to get away. You have the scissors in your hand. Cut my hair.” Malcolm moved to the chair beside hers and sat down. Joie couldn’t help staring at his back.

  She noted the broad shoulders. She’d seen them before. The urge to kiss him right there, right between his shoulders hit her hard. She bit her lip instead. The wolf and bleeding heart tattoo on his shoulder blade caught her attention. She traced it with her eyes but from his reaction she might as well have actually touched him. He sat up straighter even as he turned his head to
catch her gaze.

  The look in his glowing brown eyes should have scared her silly. Instead she felt her body reacting. Her breasts felt heavier. She could feel her nipples pressing against the cotton bra covering them.

  Joie swallowed hard then nodded her assent. He turned his back to her again. She took a step closer to him then stepped back quickly. “I’ll be right back.”

  Slade didn’t move. He gripped his knees to keep from grabbing her. He could hear Joie moving through the house. She went into the bathroom where he heard the sound of running water. A door down the hall opened and closed then she came back.

  Joie stopped in the doorway. Slade turned his head to watch her. She had a towel in one hand and a small water bottle in the other. It didn’t escape him that she was aroused. Her scent reached him, strong and heady.

  Lilacs, damn if she doesn’t smell like lilacs. Underlying the lilac scent were other herbs he’d smelled in her workshop. Her eyes shone, she still bit her lower lip, and her nipples poked hard against the bra and t-shirt she wore. He wanted to suckle her right through the cloth, to nip at her breasts and mark her as his. Slade started to turn toward her, his intent evident in his eyes still focused on her breasts. He glanced up briefly.

  Joie halted, shaking her head and, to his own disbelief, he stopped moving. Slade let his eyes move slowly from her face to her breasts then back to her face. A light flush covered her face and neck and he knew, just knew, that this was how she would look after she came. All the blood in his body rushed to his groin.

  Slade felt his erection pressing against his jeans, felt the zipper moving. He hadn’t buttoned the jeans when he’d gotten out of the shower. He wanted to yank them off, throw her skirt up and take her hard and fast against the wall, the floor, it didn’t matter where.

  Joie moved to the side and he tracked her movement with just his eyes. He wanted her to run away from him. Then he’d have an excuse to chase her. Chase her, catch her, carry her down to the ground beneath him and then bury himself deep inside her body.

  He wanted to claim her, mate with her, hold her in his arms and make love to her. He wanted to bury himself so deep inside her that she’d never accept any other male. So deep that he could feel her heat surrounding him, hear her voice, feel her nails on his skin. So deep that…