Deceptions: A Collection

by Shiloh Walker

  “When you said wait, I didn’t think it would be for hours.” I shoved my blade into the sheath, staring at his alien face.

  He was silent.

  Not like him.

  I couldn’t be a total bitch to him without him mouthing off right back.

  “Ah…Damon?”

  He took a step toward me.

  I backed away.

  Fur and muscle melted away and I found myself staring at a much more familiar face, into storm-cloud eyes.

  “The girl is okay, right?”

  He gave a short, single nod. “With the witches. Called Es—played up on her duty to the Assembly.”

  Okay, so he’d spoken two sentences there. “Okay…so what’s with you?”

  His hand shot out and I found myself plastered against him two seconds later. “You stayed.”

  “Damn it,” I snapped, shoving against his chest. Hard and hot, my hands slid against the smoothness of his flesh without budging him an inch. “What did you think I was going to do? I barely even know where I am.”

  “You’re a little fool,” he muttered.

  Then he buried his face against my neck and I shuddered.

  “I never know when you’re going to show sense or do something that will end up with you dead…or worse.”

  I could feel the heated puff of his breath against my skin and that shouldn’t feel so good. It shouldn’t feel so good at all.

  Asshole. Territory. He was asshole. Territory.

  I couldn’t…

  My breath hitched in my chest as he lifted his head, staring down at me with eyes that burned. Storm clouds shouldn’t burn so hot. But his eyes did.

  Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe—

  He dipped his head.

  Oh, shit—

  But he didn’t kiss me.

  Instead, I felt the hot brush of his lips moving along the skin at my throat. Starting just under my ear, moving along the flesh, slowly, thoroughly, until he had kissed, stroked, marked.

  “The bruises are pretty much gone, Damon. Don’t you think it’s a little late to try and kiss it better?” I managed to squeeze out.

  “Can’t do it anyway,” he rumbled. “Damage done can’t be undone. But I can sure as hell regret it.”

  A few seconds later, he let me go.

  I stumbled away and turned my back, shoving my hands through my hair. Shit. My brain was a whirled-up muddle and I didn’t even know how to process this.

  Swallowing, I decided the best way to handle it was not to think about it. At all.

  If I didn’t think about it, then I could pretend it hadn’t happened.

  Except every inch of my throat burned.

  And every inch of my body ached.

  “We should get the hell out of here,” I said hoarsely. “I need to talk to that girl.”

  It was a hike that took forever.

  My muscles were a mess already just from the endless crouch in the tree. It wasn’t anything I hadn’t had to do before, remain motionless for hours on end, but I wasn’t bred for hiding in a tree and it had taken a toll.

  On top of that, remaining unseen was hard. It was meant to be done for short periods of time, not for hours on end. I almost felt like I had a hangover, but I hadn’t had the fun of getting drunk first.

  And then, of course, half of my brain was trying to think about what had happened earlier—especially the part of my brain that was controlled by my long-unused sex drive…and maybe some other part of me that was stupid enough to be drawn to the bastard. The other part of my brain was in furious denial.

  All in all, I was in no shape to be hiking through the Everglades National Park.

  I needed food. I needed a bath. I needed sleep.

  What I didn’t need was the exposed root in the middle of the path that tripped me up and sent me sprawling. My exhausted body just couldn’t react in time.

  Damon, obviously, didn’t suffer that problem and a microsecond before I planted my face in the dirt, hard hands caught me, one gripping my arm, the other snagging the backpack. He had me back on my feet with a speed that left my head spinning and I groaned, burying the heels of my hands against my eye sockets and praying for oblivion.

  The pounding at the base of my head increased.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I did not want to talk to him. I did not want him being nice and the tone of his voice was too close to nice right now.

  Swallowing, I willed myself to think past the pain. I bullied myself into moving. I made it another twenty steps before I stumbled again.

  “All right,” Damon snapped. He’d been hovering at my side despite my attempts to keep some distance between us and I hadn’t gone down, but I felt like I was moving through quicksand, each movement agony and it was getting harder to stay upright. “What in the hell is wrong?”

  His hand closed around my neck when I tried to turn my head aside.

  Oh…there he was. Dominating, pushy bastard.

  “Nothing,” I lied through my teeth. Then I smiled.

  He snarled. The sound that came out of his throat wasn’t the kind of sound that should come out of anybody’s throat when they still wore human skin.

  Arching my eyebrows, I said, “Sorry, cat. You’ll have to do better than that. Hey, I know…you can try wringing my neck again. That’s your favorite threat, anyway.”

  “How about this…you either tell me what is wrong with you, or I’ll throw you over my shoulder and haul your cute ass back to the car.”

  I sneered at him.

  Then I found myself plastered against him for the second time that night. Thoughts fizzled away and I was having a hard time breathing. That was bad, too, because my heart was beating so hard and all that blood rushing to my head…now I was getting light-headed.

  His hand stroked down my back, rested on the curve of my hip with his fingers gripping my butt. “Here’s your last chance, kitten. You can tell me…or I’ll just assume you want me getting that up and personal with your anatomy.”

  “Fine.” I drove a fist into his stomach.

  He let me go, but it was more to humor me than anything else, because there was absolutely no strength to it.

  I didn’t have any left. It was nothing short of a miracle that I was able to stay upright. Stumbling backward, I sagged against one of the gnarled trees and glared at him through tangled, sweaty hair. I needed a bath. Scratching at one of the numerous mosquito bites, I thought about just heading on down the path another fifteen feet until I tripped over the concrete blocks that had replaced my feet. But I was pretty sure he’d do exactly what he said and I wasn’t certain my pride could handle it. Maybe if I rested for five minutes…just five minutes.

  Slipping off the backpack, I rooted around through it but I’d gone through all the water. And the granola bars. All that was left was a lousy pack of gum.

  Miserable, I let it drop to the ground before covering my face with my hands. “I’m tired,” I said flatly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly built for crouching in a tree for hours on end. And I had to do it while staying unseen—it’s hard to maintain that for long periods of time. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck. My head feels like it’s about to explode, I can barely move my legs, I haven’t eaten, I stink to high heaven and I feel like I’m going to fall on my face—oh, wait, I’ve just about done that.”

  Seconds ticked away. I heard the rasp of a zipper. Then his voice, as flat as mine. “Here.”

  Dropping my hands, I looked up and saw the bottle. It was one of his, half empty.

  I crossed my arms over my belly and looked away.

  “Take the damn water or I’ll pour it down your throat. And in a minute, I’m going to give you an energy bar and you’ll eat it, or I’ll shove that down your throat along with the water,” he warned.

  “You need the water as much as I do,” I snapped.

  “This isn’t as hard on me as it is on you.” He continued to hold the bottle out. �
�Were, remember? And I grabbed something to eat on the way back.”

  I flicked a glance at him, saw a look in his eyes. Decided I didn’t want to know what he’d snacked on. Seeing as how there wasn’t a restaurant around for miles…yeah, I didn’t want to know.

  Snagging the bottle, I popped it open and guzzled. Nausea rolled through me, but I battled it down, breathing shallowly until it passed. It was another sixty seconds before I thought I might not start to puke. And there was no way I wanted to do that.

  “Just so know, if you try to make me eat a damn thing, I’m just going to hurl it up,” I said. “I need to eat, but I can’t do it right now. I pushed myself too hard.”

  A faint sigh escaped him. “Fine. But we’ve still got five miles to go. And we can’t do it with you stumbling every other step, Kit.”

  “Just give me a minute. I’ll be okay.”

  The baleful look in his eyes told me that he very clearly didn’t believe that.

  I glared back at him.

  There was no way I was spending those five miles flung over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

  Okay, so the alternative was that I spent it curled up in his arms while he carried me like a damn toddler.

  “I’m going to get sick,” I told him after the first few minutes.

  “Okay. Just give me a warning.”

  I lapsed into silence for about five minutes.

  “You’re still one of the biggest assholes I’ve ever met.”

  I said that while looking at my knees, because I wasn’t going to crane my head to look up at him.

  “Don’t worry. You’re not the first person to tell me that. And rest assured, baby girl, you’re one of the most stubborn and headstrong females I’ve ever met. Probably the most stubborn.”

  “Don’t call me baby girl. I’m not that stubborn.”

  “Uh-huh.” He stroked a thumb down my arm. “You know, seeing as how you can’t walk and we still have about twenty minutes to go before I can get us to the car, why don’t you start thinking through the next step?”

  I made a face. I wasn’t about to tell him that thinking downright hurt. Right then, though, everything hurt. My brain felt like it had been ripped open and fried and then sewn back together.

  “The girl was a cat,” I murmured, closing my head and trying to relax a little. That, oddly enough, wasn’t terribly hard, as long as I didn’t think about it. Damon was carrying me, both packs and he wasn’t even winded. I sent my blade back to the car because it was just too awkward to try to carry it like this, plus, it just felt too heavy right then. I couldn’t even carry my sword, and he was hauling me around like I weighed nothing.

  “Yes.” His thumb was still stroking the sensitive skin of my shoulder where he held me. “How can you always tell?”

  “I just can.” Even though thinking was so very painful, I made myself do it. “Remember that girl from Atlanta who went missing a month ago? There was video of some guys grabbing her in broad daylight?”

  I glanced up at him and saw the muscle twitch in his jaw as he said flatly, “It’s her.”

  “Yeah. That’s the van I was thinking of. I knew there was a blue van I needed to remember.” Blowing out a breath, I tried to find some way to hold my head that wouldn’t add to the ache, but the only thing that worked just wasn’t doable. Leaning against his chest felt so nice, but…no. Just no. “What kind of cat is she, can you tell?”

  “Smelled like a lynx. Hard to be sure—she’s still in the middle of her spike so her scent’s chaotic. Why?”

  I shook my head and then groaned as it sent pain sparking through my skull all over again. “Just thinking it through. Isn’t that what you told me to do?”

  He rubbed his cheek against my hair. “Maybe you should just rest instead. You did enough today, Kit. That girl will go home because of you.”

  “No. You’re the one who said hiking.”

  “But I’m not the one who planned on heading south.”

  I closed my eyes. In the back of my mind, there was a vague, odd sense of unrest. Too much left undone. Doyle was still missing. So were the other children. “We have to come back here tomorrow,” I said quietly.

  Damon’s arms tightened on me. “I know.”

  I didn’t remember reaching the car.

  I didn’t remember getting to a hotel. Not exactly a posh place.

  I definitely didn’t remember how I ended up in bed.

  But I woke up sprawled on top of the coverlet, done in stunning shades of puce and vomit-green, to the smell of food. My belly rumbled and I popped one eye opened in time to see Damon at the door, shoving bills into the hand of a delivery boy.

  Food.

  There was food.

  I sat up just as he shut the door.

  The hotel room boasted a small kitchenette, and over on the counter, I spied four pizza boxes, three cardboard takeout boxes, and some sort of foil tray. I jumped out of bed, but before halfway there, I stopped.

  My belly was rumbling, but I smelled bad enough to kill a dead horse.

  I needed to shower before I ate.

  Still…

  Okay, I compromised and flipped open the top box of pizza, snagging one slice and practically inhaling it as I headed for my bag. A quick shower. Then I’d eat.

  I wanted to soak for a month, but I didn’t have that luxury. So a shower. Then food.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired, dirty and hungry,” I said around a mouthful of pizza.

  A faint grin twitched the corners of his mouth. “Sit down and eat. Then shower.”

  I shook my head. “I have to shower.” I couldn’t sit down when I was dirty like this. It was a miracle I’d even been able to get what little rest I’d gotten when I was this filthy.

  She’s a pig, Rana. I set my jaw as another memory worked its way free. My dear old grandmother. You know how humans are, and she is no better.

  Nights spent sleeping in the dirt. Skin all but black with it. I’d itch until I bled and she didn’t care. My clothes would fall to rags—

  “Stop it,” I muttered, forgetting for a moment that I wasn’t alone.

  “Kit?”

  I shook my head as the pizza lodged in my throat like a stone. Carefully, I made my way into the little kitchenette and snagged a plate, laid it down. “Try to leave me some food, cat,” I said, not looking his way.

  I had left behind that hell the year I found the courage to run.

  I needed to remember that.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Six hours of sleep did wonders for me.

  That, and a meal.

  I’d managed to make myself eat and then I collapsed.

  Morning came too early, and I would have slept more, if it wasn’t for the fucking phone going off.

  I recognized that ring and I wished I could have just buried my head under the blanket and hide away from the world.

  Damon, like me, tended to use ringtones for various people.

  There was only one person who didn’t have a ringtone—the Queen Bitch herself, and hers was just the plain, regular, old-fashioned ring. The sound of it was like an ice pick in my ears and as much as I wanted to hide my head under the covers, I didn’t.

  As I heard Damon greet her with his formal, “Good morning, My Lady,” I sat up and mimed like I was gagging myself.

  He stared daggers at me.

  I rolled my eyes and climbed out of bed, making a beeline for the bathroom. I still felt like the dirt, and sweat, and stink from yesterday clung to my skin. Shower. Long and hot, then more food. Thankfully, the headache was gone. I used the toilet, but somewhere in between washing my hands and stripping off my clothes, there was a hard, demanding knock at the door and it opened before I had a chance to jerk my shirt back on.

  “Do you mind?” I glared at him.

  He stared at me, a deadly look in his eyes.

  He had the phone in his hand. “She wants to talk to you. A couple of warnings—I told her about the girl. S
he wants to know what progress is being made and she’s not pleased that you haven’t found Doyle yet.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly dancing in circles about the fact, either,” I said, glaring at him. I clutched my shirt to my chest. “Can you give me a minute?”

  “No.” He took the phone off mute. “Here is the investigator, My Lady. I apologize for the delay.”

  He shoved the phone at me without another second and I suspected if I didn’t take the damn phone, he wouldn’t be above hogtying me and forcing me to talk to the crazy bitch.

  Turning my back to him, I lifted the phone. “Colbana.”

  “Kit…”

  She practically purred my name.

  The soft, throaty sound of it shouldn’t have sounded so deadly, but it made me shudder. I had to battle back the metallic taste of fear crowding my throat before I could even respond. “What may I do for you this morning, Alpha?”

  “I’d like to know why you haven’t found my Doyle, Kit.”

  “I’m looking. I think we’re getting closer. There are—”

  She interrupted me. “I don’t want to hear anything except that you’ve found him.” Then, contradicting herself and showing what a crazy bitch she was, she said, “Why exactly did you rescue some throwaway lynx yesterday instead of searching for my precious nephew?”

  Throwaway. My palm heated. The woman wasn’t even here and I wanted my blade. I wanted to cut her. I wanted to hurt her. Popping my wrist, I imagined it. Imagined actually doing it, although there was no way in hell I could. Not on my own. I’d taken some weaker shifters on my own before and I could do it again.

  She wasn’t a weaker shifter.

  She was Alpha as all get out and there was no way I could take her. Well, not unless I played really, really dirty.

  But it was fun to dream. I carried those happy thoughts as I formulated my reply. “I believe there’s a connection and I’m using every tool at my disposal to find your nephew, Alpha. At this point, the girl is another tool.”

  Seconds ticked away. Long, long seconds.

  “I hear you’ve spoken with witches. Are they more tools?”