by Reina Torres
“The last thing I’m doing is playing.”
Sure, he had her arms pinned, her hands all but useless at her sides, but she had more than hands that could touch him.
All she had to do was shift forward just a bit.
She heard him almost before she felt him.
Heard the frustrated snarl of a cornered cat. Felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. Felt the heat of his body against hers.
True didn’t draw back, she didn’t flinch. No, she pressed harder against him and felt him press right back.
Felt the twitch and throb of his cock against her belly. She knew full well that they were dressed, that hadn’t changed, but she could feel him cushioned against her and she certainly felt her body’s reaction to him.
That’s when instinct took over.
He felt like he’d gone right over the edge.
Jumped right off the cliff and into the gorge, barreling straight into the water where his dreams had all but died.
But rather than push him back, gravity took over.
He closed the gap between them. Pressed his body fully against hers. His hard chest against her breasts, the heat of her thighs melting him against her.
She would feel like heaven stretched around him, her body gripping him tight, and her eyes locked on his, baring her soul.
He felt the sensation of heat against his skin and suddenly the t-shirt and jeans he wore felt too damn tight.
His panther rose up inside of him and pushed, pressed tight to the surface, begged to be let out. Ached for a breath of air, the scent of her arousal in his lungs.
In their lungs.
True.
Shit. His panther knew just how to hit him below the belt.
He didn’t need to hear her name echoing inside his head, because then, he wanted to feel it against his tongue.
Feel her against his tongue.
Hunger.
Need.
True.
He was losing his damn mind.
Xavier knew he had to get away from her.
Had to pull away, because one more second of her welcoming warmth and he was going to make a complete fool of himself.
He took his hands off of her arms and set his palms against the wall. He needed to feel something solid if he had a hope of pulling away. But the shift only did one thing.
It freed her arms.
And damn, the woman knew how to use them.
True wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him back against her.
He tried to move away, but it was only a half-hearted effort because the way she touched him was like a drug. Her hands on his back, her lush curves against his front, he knew he was in deep.
Having True wrapped around him, he could die a happy man.
And that’s when he remembered.
The reason why he couldn’t let her in.
The reason why he couldn’t buy into the dream.
Because it would only end up badly for her.
“True.” He tried to turn away, reached for her arms and tried to work them free of his body, but it wasn’t working. “No.”
She only held on tighter, pulled him closer.
And then he felt her lips touch the hard line of his jaw.
He needed to get away, to save her, but when he tried to call his panther, tried to shed his skin and run. He couldn’t because the cat had a mind of its own, and it wanted True.
Traitor.
It took every ounce of his will, fighting his panther as he did, but he pulled free of her embrace, stumbled back and down to his knees.
Xavier ground his teeth together, let his anger and pain seethe through his body and down to the marrow in his bones.
“What’s wrong?”
Did she have to look so sad? So confused?
So hurt?
True took a step toward him, and he dug his fingers into the ground, tearing the grass up with his claws.
“Xavier?”
“Go away.”
No tears. He almost begged her aloud. No damn tears.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep away from her if she started to cry.
Fuck.
He lurched to his feet, arms extended, claws splitting through the skin of his fingers. He shouted, letting his voice tear free from his throat. “Get off my mountain!”
And that’s when Xavier found something more painful and devastating than her tears.
Her fear.
Stumbling around him in a wide, stuttering arc, True ran down the path along the side of the mountain and disappeared from his sight.
He lost himself in the change.
Pulling his clothes from his body, he shed his skin and ran into the brush. The branches and brambles caught at him, tearing at his hide, but he welcomed the pain.
He deserved it.
And he hated himself for what he’d done, but one day, hopefully, True would understand why he’d done it and forgive him.
Even though he’d never forgive himself.
Seven
The drink menu tasting at the Majestic Bar was fittingly bittersweet. Even though her gut told her that Xavier wasn’t going to be there, she had hoped beyond hope that he would come, if only to support Aaron and Celeste’s efforts.
She was going to support their plans for the Mystic Mountain Resort. Smiling, True opened a bottle and then turned to show them the label. “The first drink I have for you is called the Honey Pot. It’s so good that any bear or their mate will keep coming back for more.”
Aaron leaned against the bar, fixing his gaze on the bottle in her hands. “Honey Hill Brewery?”
Nodding, she put it into his hands so he could see the label and take a sniff of the beer if he wanted to. “It’s a brand from a town in a remote valley full of shifters.” She gave Celeste a wink. “Sound familiar?” As she continued to tell them about the honey production in the valley and their brewery, she mixed in some blood orange gin, lemon juice, and straight honey from a dripper into a cocktail tin over ice.
Capping the tin, she brought it up by her shoulder and shook it with the whole vessel securely in her hands.
Locke gave her a look. “I like the way you do that.”
She smiled back at him in appreciation. “Thanks.”
Done, she knocked the tin against the bar and pulled the top free. As she reached for the strainer and set it over the top, Locke leaned closer to the bar and put one knee up on a stool. “It makes your breasts jiggle.”
Celeste reached over and whacked his arm with the back of her hand. “Stop.”
He winced away from her and covered the injury with his hand even though they all knew a human woman, even with a good measure of shifter in her couldn’t do much damage with a light smack. “I’m just saying it’s going to be a draw. Once I tell the guys how hot she looks shaking drinks, they’re going to be three deep at the bar.”
True put a round ball of ice into each of the glasses and poured the mixture in. Taking up a spoon from her tool rack just out of their sight, she took the bottle back from Aaron and poured the beer into the glass over the back of the spoon so that they could all watch as the drink blended into itself.
“Now the last little bit is just for those who like a little crisp bite to go with their honey.” Reaching out, she revealed a plastic container and popped off the top.
Instantly, Celeste sat up on the stool and drew in a deep breath.
True set napkins in front of each of the four and with elegant tongs she started to put a piece out for everyone. “This is honeycomb toffee.”
After Celeste all but inhaled hers, Aaron handed her the rest of his piece after he’d taken a bite.
His mate gave him a giddy smile. “Sorry, I love the honey.”
Wren held her piece between her fingers as if it was something truly delicate and delicious, but she laughed at the pregnant woman. “I told you he’d start worrying that you’d been knocked up by a grizzly.” Turning back toward True, the woman’s salt and pe
pper waves almost shone like silver in the bar lighting. “I think Celeste probably has some black bear in her family tree.” Wren pressed the rest of her toffee piece into her mouth and spoke around the treat. “Lord knows they like trees.”
True set a glass in front of Aaron, Wren and Locke before pouring a glass of something from another elegant decanter for Celeste. Leaning against the bar she gave her a wink. “Honey lemonade iced tea.” And before the woman had taken her first sip, True had put out a few more toffee pieces onto her napkin.
All three of her guinea pigs were enjoying the Honey Pot, and True couldn’t help the warm feeling of pride that rose up in her chest. She could almost forget that Xavier had chosen not to come, except her eyes kept straying toward the open door a few feet away.
The General Store in town was one of the only places that Xavier would go willingly. The Huangs understood him, or at least they let him skulk around by himself. And skulk wasn’t his word for it, it was Mister Huang’s.
Turning the corner into the aisle with chips and other snacks, Xavier stood there and stared at the many offerings they carried on their shelves. His gaze bounced back and forth between M&Ms and the Flame Hot Cheetos before he heard the soft foot falls behind him.
Always light on his feet, Xavier was facing the opposite direction before he’d consciously made the decision to move. “Mister Huang.”
The older Chinese gentleman shook his head. His expression was a gentle rebuke while his body remained completely still and poised. “I thought you were going to call me Harry.”
Xavier’s mouth lifted at one side for a moment. “Old habits die hard. Sorry, Harry.”
“Old habits,” the older man sighed, “I’m more than twice your age, and I continue to make changes in my life.”
Xavier nodded. “I’m a slow learner, I guess.”
“Or,” Missus Huang’s soft, almost musical voice was ringed with laughter, “Harry is full of it, and he’s just trying to get something he wants.”
When Xavier turned his head toward Georgia Huang, he was stunned as always. The woman was a shifter, just like her mate, but there was truly something other-worldly about her. Like Wren, but less… flighty?
Yes, Georgia Huang felt like she was more spirit than corporeal. He wasn’t sure she was even walking toward him. It was more like gliding than anything else. Floating maybe.
“Good morning, Georgia.”
“Good morning to you, Xavier.” Her mouth had barely moved at all, but her placid expression had suddenly warmed the whole room. “I hope Harry is behaving himself.”
Shocked at his mate’s comment, Harry’s eyes widened and then narrowed at her. “You know very well what I said. You could hear it too!”
There weren’t many buildings in Mystic where anyone could have a private conversation without shifters hearing them.
Nodding, Georgia touched her mate’s shoulder with a gentle pat. “Yes, Harry. Now go and get some tea, and I’ll sit down with Xavier. Hmm?”
Harry would have purred if he was a cat. The panther inside of him would have done the same. The energy that surrounded the other woman was always warm and gentle, like a quilt on a cold night.
When Harry moved off toward their living area in the back of the store, Georgia led him to one of the sets of chairs and a table by the pot-bellied stove, which would be pumping out heat in the colder months, but stood quiet and cool for the moment.
Xavier pulled back her chair and that earned him a smile. She quickly touched her hand in the direction of the nearest chair, which he sat down in with all the grace of a snarly cat.
Her laughter didn’t make him feel defensive. He could see that she was curious and that meant he was about to give her answers to questions she wasn’t going to ask.
“I would have thought,” she began, and tilted her head so that her short, straight white hair laid against her cheek and the side of her neck like feathers, “that you would be at the resort. The tasting.”
“I didn’t want to be… a distraction.”
“The young woman from Sylvan City.”
Nodding, he looked toward the window and then the front door and counted the number of steps he’d need to escape the room.
Georgia’s laughter was sweet, almost a titter of sound. “I can move faster than you, my young friend. It’s best just to tell me.”
Knowing she was right, Xavier set down the basket he’d picked up when he walked through the door and set it down beside his chair before he leaned on the edge of the table. “Her name is True, and I don’t know what to do.”
True looked at Wren, almost blissfully leaning her cheek against her hand. “I’m just going to try one more drink for all of you today.” Shuffling the bottles around, she brought out three chilled glasses from the cooler and set them on the mat before her on the bar top. “The Viper Martini is a version of what some call the Vesper Martini.”
“Nice.” Locke leaned on the bar and nodded. “Like James Bond in Casino Royale.”
True finished pouring the Rangpur Gin into the cocktail tin and gave him a smile. “Yeah, yeah, James Bond.”
Leaning his elbows on the bar, Locke gave her a curious look. “You don’t like Bond?”
“Sure, I like Bond, especially the Connery Bond, but this martini is much better than his signature.” She reached under the bar for a crate. When she set it up on the shelf beside her, she lifted off the top. “This is my own homemade vermouth.” Reaching into the crate, she withdrew a cut crystal container and held it up into the lights shining down on the bar. “I plan to make another signature version for the Majestic using locally sourced ingredients when I get the lay of the land around here.”
Wren leaned forward on the bar and grinned. “You tell me what you want to find. I’ll find it. If we can’t find it, I’ll grow it.”
Laughing, True smiled at her, loving Wren’s characteristic excitement bubbling over. “That’s great. My vermouth blend is a version of one that my mentor, Herman, taught me. I played a little with balances in the flavors, but it’s all about the blend. Cardamom, coriander,” she ticked off the herbal ingredients on her fingers, “chamomile, sage… oh one of the things I couldn’t find for this one was wormwood, but I don’t think it hurt the taste any.”
A scratchy, gagging sound came out of the lion shifter’s mouth. “Please don’t put anything in there that has the word ‘worm’ in it.”
True measured out the vermouth into the tin. Then she poured a measure of the dark amber liquor into individual cups for them to taste, except for Celeste who took a tentative sniff before going back to munching on the honeycomb toffee that True had made for the Honey Pot drink.
She completed the three sample glasses of the mixed drink and watched each of her tasters take a sip.
Aaron was the first to speak. “That has a nice bite to it.”
Wren giggled and spoke up. “And I think our Aaron here knows about the right amount of biting. Right, Celeste?”
Celeste Winter’s face was very nearly bright red, but her lips parted on a sigh when Aaron leaned his face into the column of her neck and whispered to his mate.
True saw Wren and Locke turn slightly away as if that would stop them from hearing his words to his mate, but that was as good a concession as they could make other than running from the room.
Locke knocked his knuckles on the bar top and leaned closer for a question. “You’re going to make these drinks bigger, right?”
Aaron’s snowy white head lifted and his ice-like gaze landed on the lion. “Locke?”
True laughed it off. “Of course, these are just samples so you can all taste it without getting drunk since I made you,” she looked at the glassware lining the backbar, “almost a dozen drinks today.”
Locke nodded. “Just remember, we don’t get drunk as fast as humans. Our bodies process alcohol like fuel.”
“Yeah, sorry,” True sighed. “I’ve spent most of my career drink-slinging for the weaker species.”
> She gave Locke a wink when he looked at her, confused.
“You, know, humans.”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned even wider. “I knew you definitely didn’t say weaker sex, because women are crazy strong.”
Wren snapped her fingers and pointed at him. “Well said.”
Locke, who apparently still had a bit of a buzz from the drinks he’d downed, kept opening his mouth. “If men had to give birth, we’d all have been dead centuries ago.”
Wren gave Locke a well-placed poke in his ribs.
True was left wondering why it was so easy to get along with that drop-dead gorgeous guy, but her heart was tied up with that great big grumpy black cat?
So, she told herself to focus on the job she was being paid to do. “I’m still waiting for the copper mugs to come in, and then I’ll make the Stubborn Mule for you.”
Locke laughed behind his hand. He may have meant to shield the sound, but it only seemed to draw more attention to it. “Did you name that one after Zay?”
True was able to look him in the eye and shake her head and mean it. It wasn’t named after, or for Xavier, for that matter.
She had another drink fitting for him. Something that had all the bright colors that some species used to intimidate others, but none of the bite that would hurt. At least he wouldn’t physically hurt her. Xavier was already claiming more of her heart than she’d ever thought possible after only a few short days.
No, Xavier’s drink was a version of the Amaretto Sour, but since she was dedicating it to him, she was going to call it the Sour Puss.
She could only hope that her smile was still screwed in place and the others wouldn’t notice how upset she’d become just thinking about him. She really needed to get back to her cottage and call her friend for some moral support, and maybe a lot of laughter.
When Harry joined them at the table, he set a tea tray down with some mooncakes piled on a plate decorated around the outside edge with red scrolling that made the plate look centuries old in its craftsmanship. “I made these over the weekend.” The slender man gestured to the treats and sat down in the empty chair. “I know how much you like the egg yolk inside.”