by T. S. Joyce
“What?” he asked. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
As heat flooded her cheeks, she turned away and bit her lip.
“You’re going to have to learn to talk to me, kitty. I’m your only ally up here, and things are about to get real hairy when we get to Bron’s house. What?”
“It’s really obvious you are way out of my league, Dillon,” she said in a cowardly whisper.
He made a single clicking sound behind his teeth and twitched his neck like she was being ridiculous. “Look, what Asshole Thomas was saying, that’s all bullcrap. You know that, right? It’s not real. That’s what men like him say to keep woman under their thumbs.” His voice lowered. “That’s what my dad used to do to my mom. He was just trying to get to you.”
“It wasn’t just Thomas. Everyone knows what I am.”
“And what are you,” he said, taking his eyes from the road long enough to challenge her with a hard look.
“Useless.”
“Bullshit. If you were useless, why would they want you back so badly?”
“Because I’m supposed to be bred by Thomas,” she blurted out.
“Bred? What does that mean?”
She rubbed her cheeks in an effort to cool them down. “It means it’s my turn to give the pride a cub.”
“Do you want a cub?” he asked in a careful voice.
“Someday. Maybe. I’m at the bottom of our pride, like Thomas said. I’ve always been in charge of the nursery. I raise the cubs while the mothers go about their business. The fathers are never involved and I want something different.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “I wanted what Logan has.”
“A love match?”
Tears stung her eyes and she rested her cheek against the cool glass of the window. “Yeah. A love match. I didn’t know the words for it, but that’s what I wanted. Which is just another thing that makes me useless as a lioness. I think too differently.”
Dillon slid a big, comforting hand down her leg and squeezed her knee. “I messed it all up for you, didn’t I?”
“It’s okay. You took a big risk, saving me from Thomas. If I can’t have a love match, I’d rather be claimed by someone who would protect me instead of hurt me.”
Dillon’s eyes pooled with sadness and he drew her across the bench seat until she was nestled into his side. It felt nice, absorbing his warmth. And strangely, a humming feeling drifted over her. Everything hurt and she was headed for utter disaster and annihilation with Bronson Cress, alpha of the Hells Canyon shifters, but here in the cab of her new stranger mate’s truck, she felt safe for the first time in her life.
“Whatever happens at Bron’s house tonight, you can’t change into your lion. No matter what, you stay human, and you keep your head down.”
“What’s going to happen?”
“I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “Nothing good.”
“Dillon?”
“Hmm?”
“How did you know to bite my neck?”
Dillon guided her head forward and moved her hair to the side, then sucked air through his front teeth. “I think I went too deep. I’ll take care of it. You mentioned Logan. He’s one of my best friends. Everything I know about your people, I learned from him.”
“He told you how to claim a lioness?”
“He claimed his mate Muriel that way. She is a black bear shifter and didn’t know what it meant, but she found out eventually. Nearly mauled him.”
Breshia’s lips trembled and the tears that had been rimming her eyes spilled over. She was so emotional, and confused, and utterly lost on where her future was headed. She’d come here to beg protection, and she’d stumbled into Dillon’s bear. He’d saved her twice now, and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand why he thought he had to do that. Who was she? A nobody. Nothing had changed from this morning until now, except that some handsome stranger had claimed her in front of the man who scared her the most. This morning, she’d found out she was to be the next breeder for the Portland pride, and now there was no chance of her bearing a cub. A part of her was sad that she’d never hold a babe, but a bigger piece of her was relieved that fate had done a one-eighty on her.
In the spirit of being honest, she blurted out, “I haven’t been with a man. If you expect that, you should know I’m not going to be very good at it.”
A smile cracked the corner of his mouth. “How do you know you won’t be very good at it if you’ve never tried?”
Burning heat blasted up her neck and landed in the tips of her ears. “I just…I’m a little nervous about that stuff, and I don’t really know you, and I don’t know what it means to be mated in your clan—”
“Breshia, stop. I don’t expect that. I don’t really know what all this means either, but I guess we can make up our own way through it. How about we do the whole friendship thing and just try not to strangle each other in close quarters. I have an extra bedroom in my house that you can have. We can be roommates.”
“Roommates.” She didn’t mean to sound ungrateful, but she was hoping that maybe deep down, he would’ve wanted something more from her. That he claimed her for more than mercy.
Stupid. He wasn’t attracted to her. That wasn’t what this was. He was protecting her because that’s what he did. He was a protector and from what she could tell, a pretty decent guy. She’d spent half of her time with him completely naked, and he hadn’t even tried to touch her inappropriately. And from what she could tell, he didn’t look at her with anything but pity. He had ruined her chances of finding a love match, but worse than that, he’d ruined his, and something about that made her stomach clench in on itself. She didn’t want to wreck his life. He’d been kind when he didn’t have to be.
He deserved better.
The sun sat low in the sky, casting shadows of bare trees across the gravel road Dillon turned onto. He bypassed the ranger camp with a tiny salute to a blonde-haired woman who stood wide-eyed in front of an oversized tent. She wore the same park ranger’s uniform that Breshia was wearing, and when she yelled, “What the hell, Dillon?” the Dillon in question ignored her and turned onto another dirt road aimed down the mountain.
“You’re an idiot,” the woman called after them in a sing-songy voice. “Bron’s going to kill you!”
“Is he really going to kill you?”
“No.” He frowned and amended, “I hope not. You like shopping right? You know, since you’re a girl and all.”
“No, I hate shopping.”
He turned a troubled gaze on her that said he couldn’t tell if she was joking or not.
“I’m serious. I’m expected to dress fashionable around the pride, but it isn’t my favorite thing and I’ve never really had the money to spend on it.”
“Okay,” he drawled, looking at her like she was an alien. “Well, can you stomach it for a few minutes? Your clothes are covered in blood, which will have every bear in the area riled up, and you can’t wear a ranger uniform forever.”
“I don’t have any money, because I left without my purse.” She left without everything, actually. Officially, she was the worst escape artist in the history of them. “Do you have a coffee shop in town?”
“Why, do you need coffee?”
“No, I need a job. I missed my shift at work today, and my boss is a stickler about no-shows. I’m pretty sure I’m fired, and anyway, I can’t go back to work in Portland without seeing the pride again. I need a job here so I can make my own money.”
“Oh. We have a small coffee shop. It’s a mom-and-pop, hole-in-the-wall kind of place, but when you’re ready, we can see if they’re hiring. Until you find work, I don’t mind buying you the things you need though.”
And it seemed he really didn’t. Two pair of jeans, a pair of hiking boots he insisted she needed, a ten-pack of utterly un-sexy panties, three soft cotton sweaters, a toothbrush, toiletries and make-up, and Dillon didn’t even blink when he paid. Nor did he pay any attention when people stared at her. She got that r
eaction a lot because her freckles were so dark, but she would remedy that soon enough with the thick foundation he’d just purchased for her.
“Do we have time to clean up before we meet your alpha?” she asked shyly. She really wasn’t trying to be a pain, but she wanted to make a good first impression.
“Yeah. We’ll get some food in our stomachs too before we go over there. Bron is in Portland with his mate. She works from there, and has to go to meetings a couple of times a month with the television station she works with. They probably won’t be back for another few hours at least.”
Relief and anxiety fought for space inside of her. She was glad she had more time before Bron would likely murder her, but the waiting was hard too. She was already ripping up the edge of the brown paper bag with all of her new things in it just to steady her pounding heart rate.
Full dark had fallen by the time Dillon pulled in front of a modest one story cabin. It was covered in natural wood siding and the front stoop was adorned with stonework. The porch railings were stained instead of painted and piney wilderness surrounded the cozy home on all sides.
When she turned her gaze on Dillon, he was smiling. It was the first one of them she’d seen on his face, and it froze the breath in her throat. He was even more striking happy than he’d been mad.
“You like it?” he asked low, like her answer mattered.
Afraid her voice would crack, she nodded.
“I built it.” He canted his head and added, “Bron, Trent and I built it together after I bought the land.
“Trent Cress?” She’d heard about him before.
Sadness washed his smile away. “He died last year, and this was the last big project we all did together.”
Her heart ached for him as she looked at the house in a different light. It wasn’t just beautiful. It was built on memories that were obviously important to Dillon.
He took the bag from her hands and said, “Wait there.”
She hadn’t any idea what she was waiting for, but he jogged around the front end of his truck and opened her door like gentlemen she’d read about in magazines. Her very own werebear in shining armor.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. The answer mattered more than she could ever admit to him.
Leaning on the door frame, too close and too far away all at once, he explained, “My mom was with a bad man and it made her sad. You remind me of her. I couldn’t do anything for her, but I can keep you safe. I know I can.”
His answer was the sweetest, saddest admission she’d ever heard. She reminded him of his broken mother, which gutted her, but he could’ve dropped her off at the nearest rest stop today after he fake-claimed her, and he hadn’t. He’d treated her better than anyone had in her life, and her loyal heart latched onto him a little more.
“I know I’m not what you want in a mate—”
“Breshia,” he warned.
“No, let me finish. I know I’m not what you probably imagined, and that this was forced, but if it’s friendship you want, I can do that. I’ll try my best to repay the kindness you’ve shown me today. And if you ever need the company of someone you connect with more, I’ll understand.”
He looked utterly shocked. “You’re giving me permission to sleep with other women?”
“I’m saying I’ll understand if you need…someone…more than me.”
He shook his head and gripped her waist before lowering her down to the ground in front of him. “You’re one crazy kitty, you know that? And that sounds like a woman trap if I’ve ever heard one.”
She frowned at his receding back. It wasn’t her intention to set a trap. She was being honest with what she was willing to sacrifice to see him happy. Her looks didn’t do it for him, she got that. She was trying to tell him she understood and that it was okay. Words had never been her strength though, so she shut the truck door as softly as possible and followed him up the porch stairs. She would just have to try again later, when she’d had time to think on how exactly to word it.
He flipped the light switch inside, and recessed lighting lit up a homey interior. Light upper walls contrasted with dark painted lower walls, separated by tasteful wainscoting. Each trinket and decoration fit perfectly. For a bachelor, he was exceedingly tidy. In fact, this place was cleaner than the pride’s house.
“Will this bedroom do?” he asked, leading her to a door off the open living room.
It was small, comfortable looking and perfect. A bed, dresser and even a bedside table with a lamp decorated the room. The urge to cry all over again at the gift he was offering her was overwhelming.
“Hey,” he said, worry creasing his brows as he gripped her shoulders. “What’s wrong? If it’s too small, you can have mine.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s just right.” She sniffled pathetically. “I’ve been sleeping on a couch for the last year. I lived in the pride house, but they made my room into a nursery and gave me a loveseat to sleep on.”
“What?” The corners of his eyes crinkled with disgust. “Breshia, did everyone treat you like Thomas did?”
“It was their right. It is the natural way of things.” She wiped warm tears from her cheeks with the sleeve of her ranger uniform. “I wasn’t born right.”
“Listen to me real carefully. I don’t want you talking like that anymore, do you hear me? It’s not true. You’re fine. What they said to you was on them, not on you. And I’ll be damned—” His phone chirped a few notes and he pulled it from his pocket and glared at the screen. “Bron is going to be to his place in half an hour. If you need to change your clothes, you’d better get on it. He’ll be a monster if we’re late. Bathroom is down the hall, by my room.”
“Okay, she murmured, then scooted past him.
She didn’t turn around, because she could feel him watching her, and he deserved to see her stronger than this. Inside, she was falling apart with the sharp change in direction her life had taken, but she could see the effect her tears had on him—on his animal. It woke him up, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out if it was in a good way or bad.
With the door locked, she removed her clothes carefully and dared a look at her back for the first time since Thomas had marked her. A sob wrenched from her throat and she sank into the corner in horror. The claw marks were bad, and deep, and even with her shifter healing would scar silver and remain, marring her skin until the day she died. For the rest of her life, she’d bear the evidence of what had happened today. Biting her lip hard, she wept as quietly as she could for all the wrong that had been done. For the pride’s hatred and view on her lack of worth. For Thomas. For the end of her species because of her failure to reproduce with her own kind. For Dillon, who’d tethered himself to someone so damaged and weak. The tragedy was too much.
And then, like she hadn’t locked the door at all, Dillon was here, pulling her into his lap. She buried her face in his tattered shirt and shook with the pain of her journey to ruin. She didn’t deserve for him to be so nice, but here he was, crooning nonsensical things against her ear like he’d known her for years.
“I know a healer,” he said. “We’ll get the marks to fade.”
“Not yours though,” she said, tears blurring her vision as she eased back and dared a direct look into his eyes. They were lightened to a silvery color, but filled with concern. “I want your claiming marks to stay.”
“Okay, kitty.” His eyes softened and pooled with some emotion she couldn’t decipher. “Whatever you want.”
She should flinch away from that nickname, but he didn’t say it condescendingly like he had the first time. On the contrary, now she liked the way his voice turned velvet when he pushed the word past his lips. Boldly, she slid her arms around his neck and rested her chin on his shoulder. With a gentle squeeze, she whispered, “You’re a good man, Dillon McCain. I’m proud to be your friend.”
Friend tasted bitter against her tongue, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
; His hands hovered over her back, like he didn’t want to hurt her, and he sighed. “You’re messing with my head, Bre.”
Confused, she eased back to see if he was teasing her. “I’m sorry.” It was always her go-to answer, because she was always wrong.
“Stop apologizing,” he growled out.
The gravel in his voice made her flinch away and draw her hands from his neck to her chest. “Sorry,” she whispered before she could stop herself.
His silvery gaze slid to her lips, and she stifled the urge to apologize for the apology.
“They sure did a number on you, didn’t they?”
She didn’t understand what he meant and shook her head in bewilderment. His eyes followed her lips still, and a hungry look obscured his frown. Her body felt pulled to him, as if it were cold and needed his warmth. A low humming filled her body as his hand gathered her hair at the nape of her neck. Her breathing sped up until she was panting and her throat rattled embarrassingly.
“Are you purring, kitty?” he asked in the softest voice. A slow smile crooked his lips.
Mortified, she jerked away and hit the wall with her shoulder blades. “I’m—”
He angled his face, warning in his expression. “Don’t,” he whispered.
Without another word, he stood and left the bathroom.
Left her cowering by the shower.
Left her pulse galloping and her lips throbbing with a desire for something she didn’t understand.
Without another word, he left her heart and soul thoroughly altered.
Chapter Seven
The drive to Bron’s house was nothing short of terrifying. Breshia suddenly had something very real to live for, and now here she was, bumping around in Dillon’s passenger seat on the way to her death.
Her timing sucked. She was pretty sure the Fates were smoking joints and sitting around laughing at their crystal ball.