Touch the Sky

by Kari Cole

  “The kind that wore support hose and orthopedic shoes,” Jessie added.

  “Exactly.”

  Vaughn looked between them. “What—never mind. Don’t care.” He stood, picking up supplies from the med kit, and reached down for Ms—Cassandra. “Get inside before we have to explain to humans why we’re both naked. I’ll bandage your wound.” Before I act like a bigger idiot.

  “Please,” Jessie said. “I know y’all are werewolves, but the nudity is really distracting.”

  The beautiful blush that spread like wildfire over Cassandra’s face and across her bare chest nearly drove him back to his knees.

  A vision as clear as the perfect blue sky formed in his head, courtesy of his wolf. Vaughn, on those knees, bending to lick her injured side.

  Damn it! That’s not how humans treat injuries.

  His beast huffed, utterly disgusted with Vaughn’s lack of initiative.

  Dear goddess, this was going to be the longest day.

  * * *

  Hannah stared at the sheriff as he disappeared behind the screen door. The sight of his bare butt was seared into her brain like the afterimage from a flash.

  Jessie giggled like a twelve-year-old.

  Hannah would have rolled her eyes—shifters were naked in front of each other all the time—but...it was a rather fantastic butt.

  She shook herself. “Frost’s gonna be okay?” she asked Sarah. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes. He looks good as far as I can tell.” She sent a frown Hannah’s way. “I’ll fix your stitches later, if need be. The boys can show you where we keep the clothes stash.”

  Hannah looked at the door once more, specifically the handle. “Uh, I need my gloves.”

  “Hold on. I’ll grab them,” Jessie said. She set the boys down with Frost. The pups sniffed Frost’s face and licked his muzzle. He snorted but seemed content to let the pups worry over him.

  Hannah bent down to give him a kiss on the cheek and whispered, “You scared me. Don’t ever do that again.”

  Pale gold eyes narrowed on her and he sighed. Sometimes she was really glad the wolf couldn’t talk.

  “Are they okay?” Hannah asked, tipping her head toward the pups.

  Sarah gazed lovingly at her sons as they curled up close to Frost, burrowing into his thick neck fur despite the heat. “Thanks to you two.”

  “Oh, well. No. Frost’s the big hero.” She petted his neck gently. “Always is.”

  A flash of blue caught Hannah’s eye as the healer’s mate unfurled a plastic tarp and settled it over the body. She shuddered. “I can’t believe that bear was one of us.”

  “It may have been a shifter, but it definitely wasn’t one of us,” Sarah said. “The question is, what on Earth happened to him? I’ve never seen a were exhibit rabies-like symptoms before.”

  Hannah thought about the frothing mouth and matted fur, the horrid stench. She’d seen something like it before in one of her visions. A chill crept up her spine despite the July sun.

  Voices drifted into the yard, coming toward them.

  Sarah sniffed the air. “Humans. You should get inside.”

  Hannah stood, reached for the screen door, and froze. No gloves. Jessie was heading back toward her, picking up the scattered remains of Hannah’s clothes. She wouldn’t make it before the newcomers arrived.

  “Here,” Sarah said. She rose and threw open the door. “Go on inside. Boys, you, too.”

  “Thanks,” Hannah said. As she entered the house, Justin and Nate brushed past her calves and ran in circles ahead of her. She was about to ask them where the spare clothes were when she slammed into a solid chest. “Oof!”

  Large, hot hands grabbed her arms, preventing her from falling on her butt.

  “Easy, female.”

  A blush scalding her cheeks, Hannah raised her eyes to the glowering face of Sheriff Ellis. Of course. As if another giant, gorgeous male could have caught her being a clumsy oaf.

  To add insult to mortification, he was dressed in an unaccountably sexy uniform. Who knew a khaki-green poly-blend could look like that on a male?

  “Um, thank you,” she said. “You can let me go now.”

  He didn’t. Quite the opposite, in fact. Storm-gray eyes lightened to gold and he leaned in closer. Lowering his head, he sniffed her neck, just beneath her ear. A low growl rumbled in his chest. It took everything she had to not panic from having a werewolf she didn’t really know so close to her vulnerable throat.

  Holding very still, she let him draw in her scent. She wasn’t afraid, exactly. After a fight, the beast rode closer to the surface. So far, the sheriff had done nothing but try to help her. But the last few months had taught her people were not always what they seemed.

  When his nose brushed the skin behind her ear, goose bumps rose in a tingling wash over her entire body. It was awesome...and totally not what she should be interested in right now. But goddess help her, she wanted to follow that trail. Old Hannah—fun, stylish, party girl Hannah—would have jumped at the chance to well, jump Sheriff Hottie’s bones. New Hannah—scratch that, Cassandra—couldn’t risk the distraction.

  Especially not with a cop.

  With a sigh of regret, she shoved him. It was like trying to move a boulder. She had the feeling getting this male to do anything he didn’t want to would result in more of the same.

  One more inhalation that rustled the hairs at her nape, then he pulled back. His scowl carved lines between his brows and beside his full mouth. She had the urge to run her fingers over them, to smooth them away. To kiss the scar on his cheek.

  No, no. Bad Hannah. No playing with the hot law enforcement officer.

  “You smell like blood and fear and...” He shook his head. “Your scent is strange.”

  What? Oh God, did she have BO? She sniffed. Eww. Eau de hospital soap. But what did he expect? Dolce & Gabbana?

  One of the pups batted her leg with his forepaws. The other wound between her and the sheriff like a cat.

  “Careful, you’ll make her fall. Ms”—his lips pressed together in a hard line—“Cassandra is already hurt.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So you keep saying.”

  “Come on.” He tugged her deeper into the house away from the door.

  Outside, a man’s voice called out a greeting. Sarah’s mate answered.

  As soon as she was hidden from view in the shadows of the cool house, Hannah pulled from the sheriff’s grasp, earning another frown.

  She looked around a toy-strewn family room painted butter-yellow. A huge brown leather sectional butted up against the far corner, a colorful stack of children’s books piled on one end. Legos were scattered on the tile in front of the cold fireplace and over the surface of a large, square coffee table. Two comfy-looking patterned club chairs finished off the conversation area, one angled toward the flat-screen TV sitting on a cornflower-blue console.

  It was completely different from the professionally styled family room she’d grown up with. Still, it set off a pang of homesickness in her chest.

  Clearing her throat, she asked, “Do you know where they keep the extra clothes?”

  Justin yipped once, and he and his brother bounded and hopped, tumbling over one another, to a sturdy, dark wood chest along the wall. Unfortunately, she still didn’t have her gloves. What was Jessie doing out there? Sewing a new pair? No way on the wide, green Earth was Hannah opening that chest without protection. That was all she needed. Pass out, have a seizure, and drool all over the already-suspicious sheriff.

  Maybe she could open it with her elbows or foot? She was getting pretty dexterous with random body parts. Of course, she’d still have to touch the clothes. Even if they were freshly laundered, she’d get a glimpse of whoever had folded them or worn them last. She’d just have to pray they hadn’t done anything emotional w
hile wearing them.

  The screen door flew open and Jessie burst in. She stopped dead, taking in the scene: Hannah naked; Sheriff Hottie not, and standing way too close for Hannah’s peace of mind. A glint Hannah didn’t like at all entered her cousin’s eyes.

  “Vaughn, good. You’re still in here,” Jessie said, hurrying over to them. She tossed Hannah her gloves. “Could you help Cassandra get dressed? She looks a little pale. We don’t want her getting woozy and bumping her head, do we? Come on, boys. Nate, Justin, Auntie Lena’s here to take you to her house. I think I heard something about cookies.”

  Excited yips filled the air, and Jessie flung open the door again. Before Hannah or Sheriff Ellis could say anything, they were all gone, bounding out the door and down the porch steps.

  The confused expression on the sheriff’s face would have made Hannah giggle if she wasn’t so annoyed. Southern women were incorrigible matchmakers, one and all.

  “She has that effect,” she said as she pulled on her gloves. The sheriff looked at her like he didn’t understand English. “Jessie,” she clarified. “She’s like a bulldozer. Smash, boom! And there you are, flattened.”

  He nodded absently. Well, he probably had a lot on his mind. Hannah certainly did. So why was she still standing there in front of him instead of doing something productive—like, oh, getting some clothes on? That she totally did not need his help putting on.

  The sheriff’s nostrils flared and his eyes focused on her once again. A shiver of...something, not fear, but every bit as exciting, danced up her spine. She should run. Yes, sir, that sounded like a terrific idea, because the spark in his eyes was more than just male interest. He was on the hunt for answers she didn’t dare give.

  “Uh, I’m—uh, gonna get dressed now,” she said, tugging on her gloves.

  He didn’t respond, just watched her with unreadable, glowing eyes as she crossed the room to the chest. She opened it and suddenly he was there, right next to her. So close they’d touch if she took a deep breath.

  “Uh.”

  He held up a fistful of white packages. “I need to bandage your side.” He sank to his knees in front of her.

  Holy crap on a stick. His face was right...there. “Whoa! Hold on a second, buster. Let me get something on first.” Like a robe, or better yet, the getup nuns wore.

  “You’ll get blood on it,” he said, his quiet voice a low thrum that seeped straight into her bones. “Plus, you might get...woozy.”

  A ridiculous laugh like a squeak burst from her throat. “Right. Right.” Quick as a rattlesnake strike, she snatched something off the top of the clothes pile. No clue what it was, and she didn’t really care, but thankfully it was nice and long. Long enough to hang from her collarbones to almost her knees when she held it in front of herself.

  He gave her a look. Who knew you could say wacko with the cock of a brow?

  Head held high, Hannah pivoted to give him access to her left side. Lycanthrope or not, she was a lady. There was no need for a male to be that close to the goodies without a proper—aka, fun—reason. She had her standards.

  The sheriff tore open a package and set to work cleaning the dried blood from her hip. She jerked at the first touch of the chilly antiseptic wipe.

  “Easy,” he murmured.

  She opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap. What kind of small talk did one make to a scarily intense sheriff while nude and on the lam? Get a lot of the violent, foaming-at-the-mouth sort around here? Do my perky breasts make you not want to arrest me? Mama’s etiquette lessons had never covered such an eventuality.

  “I can handle this myself,” she said finally. “It’s just bleeding a little now. More oozing than anything. Not a big deal. I mean, thank you for the help, but you must want to get back out there. Lead the charge.” She did a little fist-thrust-rah-rah action.

  A growl rumbled in the sheriff’s chest and he opened a large, square package. “I don’t want to leave your side.”

  “You don’t?” She couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips.

  “Seems every time I do, you find trouble.”

  Like a popped soap bubble, her smile disappeared. Hannah made several inarticulate noises before actual words made it from her brain to her mouth. “I can assure you, I’m not looking for it, and I certainly didn’t ask for it.”

  She was starting to think that perturbed frown was his default setting. Then, as if a wave had washed upon the shore of his features, the scowl faded into a neutral mask.

  That plain mannequin veneer ticked her off even more, but she held her tongue.

  Finally, the sheriff taped the bandage into place. He’d barely risen before she was pulling the huge T-shirt over her head.

  “What’s that bear shifter’s name?” he asked out of the blue.

  “Wh-what?”

  “His name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “How do you know him?”

  Fear sucked all the summer warmth from the air. “I—I don’t.”

  “Just like you had no idea who the guy who shot you was.”

  “No—I mean, yes. I—”

  “Whatever you’re into, you should tell me now. People are dying.”

  Acid roiled in her stomach, and she shouted, “You don’t have to tell me that! I know. I saw.”

  Dear goddess, how she wished she hadn’t. The sheriff had no clue. The bear and the man with the gun were nothing. Barely the tip of the iceberg.

  If he knew what she’d seen, he’d pray he never had to see either.

  Chapter Eight

  Caine stared down at the doctor’s latest failure. Spittle and foam dripped from the grizzly’s jaws onto the metal floor of its cage. The creature’s patchy fur was matted with blood. As it had tried to break free, the maddened beast smeared that blood and worse all over the Plexiglas walls. Strange—a cataract-like film had already begun to spread through the eyes. It usually took a few hours after death for that to happen.

  The stench was impressive.

  Next to him, Jackson Kroll curled a lip. “That’s disgusting.” Caine’s sometime-partner and only equal in Apex cuffed the organization’s chief scientist on the shoulder. “Doc, you’ve outdone yourself with this one. That might be the vilest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Dr. Hermann slid Kroll a look, his glacial eyes protruding. “The subject’s rapid deterioration is disappointing. However, its enhanced strength, stamina, and initial obedience showed marked improvements over previous samples. The results are promising.”

  “Promising?” Kroll snorted. “That is leaking and mangy. It’s hardly what I’d call a positive.”

  Hermann’s eyes bugged out even farther. “The processes of scientific inquiry and discovery are often messy. Individually, the three aspects of the serum test within established tolerances. Of course, as I’ve mentioned in previous progress reports, the submission factor continues to prove problematic over a prolonged period. When combined with the factors for enhanced abilities and strength”—he gestured to the dead bear—“there is significant instability. Though I remain hopeful. We are closer than ever before to re-creating the previous serum and perfecting one for mass use.”

  “For your sake,” Caine said, “you better be right. Holt is growing impatient. Despite what the public believes, Macon Crawford isn’t actually vacationing in the Greek Isles, you know.”

  “Why didn’t I think of that?” Kroll asked. “I could have gotten rid of Crowley in Greece and had a little vacation afterward.” He sighed dramatically. “Live and learn.”

  Hermann sniffed. “As always, I am grateful for Mr. Holt’s support and generosity. Also, I am aware of his timetable. That is precisely why we’ve accelerated the field testing phase.”

  Accelerated field testing. More like the mad scientist’s idea of a playdate. Caine had argued against sending any
of the experiments out into the real world. There were too many variables to take into account. It exposed Apex to undue risk in his opinion, but he wasn’t the boss. What Holt wanted, Caine and Kroll got for him. They were very good at it.

  “How’s that working for you?” Kroll asked. “Your other projects look like this guy?”

  “Not all of them,” Hermann said with a sniff. “Some are still functioning as well as expected.”

  “What do you call the others?” Caine asked. “It took three of my soldiers to clean up the mess one of your subjects left behind in Cincinnati.”

  “Some—a few—have outlived their usefulness.”

  “You mean they broke like this poor bastard,” Kroll said, nodding toward the dead bear. “Or they had to be put down.”

  “There were...extra steps required for a small handful of the subjects,” Hermann said.

  A low growl formed in Caine’s throat. “Extra steps?” Setting a house on fire and ensuring the bodies burned enough to foil forensics was tricky in the best of circumstances. But to make it look like an accident that claimed the lives of a family of four? That took real skill and a lot of work. “If the human authorities had come upon the scene your subject created, it could have put Apex at risk. And if that happened...” He shifted to loom over the much smaller male. “Not even you are immune from being eliminated, doctor.”

  Hermann’s irises and pupils expanded to fill his whole eye, the color changing from a dark brown to an orangish color. If his fangs lengthened Caine wouldn’t waste a second’s thought before ripping out the male’s throat. A natural Taipan snakebite was lethal to humans within forty-five minutes. A bite from a weresnake like Hermann would kill even another shifter in less than an hour.

  A fresh wave of fear rose in the air and the doctor swallowed audibly. “Th-there is no need for threats, Caine. We all are working for the same goal.”

  That wasn’t true at all. But Caine wasn’t about to discuss his motivations. He continued to stare the doctor down. The smaller male blinked and looked down toward the floor. When he raised his head again, the snake was gone from his eyes. “Good call,” Caine said.