by Lib Starling
His eyes traveled again down Roxy’s body, taking in every detail of her form. The tiny waist, contrasting with the slight curve of her narrow hips, her long legs, her small, firm breasts…
Chase blinked again. He had never noticed before that Scarlett wore an amulet. He couldn’t make out much of it through the silver mesh of her shirt, and in any case the little round breasts framing the medallion on either side seemed especially distracting. But he could see enough to tell that it was round, and made of some sort of metal. He squinted, trying to determine whether a totem symbol was etched on the disc.
Is Scarlett a shifter, too?
That seemed too unlikely. Chase scratched his head, then rubbed one temple as Scarlett spoke on. He couldn’t follow the line of her conversation, and hoped he wasn’t making a fool of himself. A thick fog seemed to have settled between his ears. He shook his head and eyed his beer, wondering whether he’d already had enough to drink for tonight.
Too much time spent in the library, he decided, finishing off the last of his beer and setting the cup on the porch railing. All this studying is turning me into a lightweight.
He glanced toward the road, hoping to see Roxy’s Jeep approaching. In his half-addled state, the memory of their last time together roared into sudden, vivid life within his mind, and his totem stirred restlessly. The sensation of the wolf spirit stretching and flexing made Chase clutch at the rail, gripping hard to steady himself.
“Are you all right?” Scarlett asked, sounding more intrigued than worried.
“I’m fine,” Chase said quickly. “Just a little too much beer already. I’m sorry – you were saying…?”
She picked up the line of her conversation once more, her voice sultry and low. Chase, narrowing his eyes at the medallion between her breasts, inhaled deeply. He tasted her scent with caution. Some musky, artificial perfume, too heavily applied, masked the rest – but with another deep breath, he’d identified the components of Scarlett’s scent. A hazy, thick warmth that spoke of well-practiced sexuality, the bitter whiff of a cautious, careful planner, and – so faint he didn’t believe it at first, but unmistakably there – the same feral wildness he’d detected in Roxy.
It was true. Against all odds, Scarlett was also a shifter.
“Did you know…” Chase blurted, interrupting her. His words were slightly slurred. I didn’t have that much to drink, he thought, and tried to silence himself, but his tongue rattled on without his permission, “…that you’re a shapeshifter?”
Scarlett fell silent. Those bright, all-encompassing, intoxicating eyes watched him for a moment, unreadable as two bottomless pools in a shadowed forest. Then a secretive smile curled her mouth, and she stepped close to Chase’s side.
He could feel the heat of her body. As if in a trance, he leaned toward her, although some rapidly receding corner of his mind called out Roxy’s name.
Then one of Scarlett’s small, slender hands snaked around his neck, pulled his face toward hers…
And he kissed her.
.5.
T he receipts were uncooperative, and it took Brooke longer to close the Browsing Buffalo than she’d anticipated. Roxy tried to be patient as she waited in her Jeep outside, watching through the café windows as Brooke squinted at the till, double-checking her calculations on a scratch-pad of paper. Roxy drummed her hands on the steering wheel in time to the music on the radio, a scratchy, faint station that wavered in and out of signal. She’d hoped to be well on the way to Alpha House by now, and each minute that passed felt as drudging and unending as a century.
Not being near Chase was the worst part of her torment. They’d stayed in touch, and Roxy loved the clever texts they’d exchanged. She loved even more the sweet phone calls when he wished her good night, or woke her just before her alarm went off because he wanted to be the first to tell her “good morning,” his voice still thick and rough with sleep.
Nothing, however, could replace actually seeing him – feeling his arms wrap around her, pressing her face against his chest and breathing in his wild, musky scent, as sharp and compelling as the sagelands after hard rain.
But Scarlett’s uncomfortable silence had been nearly as difficult to bear as days without Chase’s company. Since their strange confrontation in the dark living room, Scarlett had avoided Roxy completely. She no longer paid her usual visits to the Browsing Buffalo for her iced green tea and biscotti, and except for the occasional, faint rustle behind her closed bedroom door, there was not a sign of Scarlett’s presence in the little blue house.
Roxy would have preferred to talk to her friend about her feelings – to get to the bottom of Scarlett’s obvious pain and frustration like two adults, instead of playing these avoidance games. But she couldn’t force Scarlett into such a conversation. She knew it would have to take its own course, as frustrating as that was.
At last Brooke concluded her wrestling match with the till. Roxy watched as Brooke slammed the notebook closed with a look of triumph, pumped her fists in the air victoriously, and spun off to the back office to drop the cash in the safe. In another moment she was locking the front door behind her and bounding down the wooden walkway toward Roxy’s Jeep.
“Finally,” Roxy said as Brooke buckled her seatbelt and threw her head back with a dramatic sigh.
“Slow down, girl,” Brooke laughed. “Your hot piece of ass isn’t going anywhere. He’ll be ready and waiting when we get to the party.”
“It’s been so long since I’ve seen him!”
“It’s only been a few days.” Brooke fished in the back of the Jeep as Roxy drove. She found the cute top she’d instructed Roxy to bring, then slipped out of the shoulder belt and pulled off her Browsing Buffalo t-shirt, tossing it onto the back seat. The thin, comical notes of several honking horns blared as the Jeep crossed an intersection. Brooke flipped off her gawkers and gave her shoulders a shake, proudly displaying her lacy red bra.
“Oh my God,” Roxy giggled. “Put your shirt on! The cops will pull us over and arrest you for indecent exposure…”
“Good.”
“…and I’ll never get to the party because I’ll have to bail you and your bra out of jail.”
“And you’ll be horny forever, you poor thing.”
A red light stopped them on the edge of town, and Roxy gave vent to a growl of frustration. “Chase!” she said through gritted teeth.
“You really can’t keep your mind off him, can you?”
“Can you blame me? He’s so…”
“Hot,” Brooke agreed. “Nope, I can’t blame you.”
Roxy bit her lip and peeked at Brooke from the corner of her eye. “Do you think Scarlett’s still mad?”
“Honestly, I haven’t seen her in days, so I have no idea. She’s been keeping to herself.”
“I told you she was pissed at me.”
“Well, she doesn’t have any reason to be. If she’s mad at you – and I’m not convinced she is – then she’s being stupid.”
“Do you think she’ll show up at the party tonight?”
“I don’t even think she knows there is a party tonight,” Brooke said.
Roxy smiled at that, hoping furiously that Brooke was right. The prospect of seeing Chase was even better if she could enjoy him without Scarlett’s weird, judgmental commentary or creepy stares.
Once they were beyond the town’s last traffic light, Roxy flew down the highway. The dirt road that led out to Blackmeade was impossibly long, and the foothills that shielded it from view seemed miles away. But at last they came over the final rise. The sight of the frat houses, brightly lit in the fading dusk, made her heart leap in her chest. Beyond the village, the spires of Blackmeade University were jagged fragments of shadow against the mountain’s deep blue face.
There were plenty of cars outside Alpha House, and the music was audible before Roxy shut off the Jeep’s engine. Her eagerness to get inside startled her. Who would have thought I’d ever be excited for a frat party? So much has change
d since Hanover.
Darien’s was the first familiar face she saw. He was leaning on the porch rail, talking to a few girls who obviously hadn’t figured out yet that they weren’t his type. Roxy couldn’t blame them. With his tall, lean presence and muscular body, not to mention his kind, attentive eyes, Darien was enough to make any girl try her hardest.
“Hey, Roxy,” he said, and wrapped her in a hug. He hugged Brooke, too, and soon they were chatting like old friends. But Roxy’s feet began to shift, a nervous, eager dance.
Darien put a protective arm around her shoulder. “Listen, Roxy, I need to tell you…”
“Chase is here, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he’s here,” Darien said slowly. “That’s the thing.”
An icy hand squeezed Roxy’s heart. “What’s the thing?”
“Scarlett’s here, too.”
It took only a moment for Roxy to grasp his meaning. She whirled and headed for the door, oblivious to the hungry stares of the men she passed or the curious glances of the town girls.
“Wait,” Darien called, but Roxy pushed into the depths of Alpha House.
She saw them across the impromptu dance floor. Beyond the twisting, gyrating bodies of the girls, slouched back into one of the ugly couches, Chase sat with his eyes half-focused and heavy-lidded, his head tilted back as if in the lazy grip of some slow-moving ecstasy. The slim, dark form of Scarlett was perched on his knee, and as she bent to whisper in Chase’s ear, his hand came up to stroke absently along her hip.
The breath left Roxy’s body in a sudden rush. She clutched at her chest as if she might force her lungs to work again, force her heart to beat. She wanted to look away, but the scene transfixed her, too stunned even for the mercy of tears, which at least would have blotted that terrible vision from her sight.
Darien’s strong, warm arms wrapped around her, and he turned her bodily away. Only then could she gasp – only then could she sob. Together, Darien and Brooke hurried Roxy back outside.
The girls on the porch had gone. Roxy was grateful for that, at least – grateful that nobody else would witness her heartbreak. She buried her face in her hands and groaned with a pain she had never known before.
“That bitch,” Brooke muttered. “How could she?”
“It may not be entirely her fault,” Darien said. His voice was barely above a whisper; Roxy heard it through the pounding rush of her pulse in her ears. “All the guys have been after her tonight. It’s just like the last party, the way they all went after Roxy. You remember.”
“I remember,” Brooke said. “But what does it mean? What’s wrong with all you Alpha House weirdos? Can’t any of you control yourself? Don’t you have any decency?”
“We can control ourselves,” Darien said a little defensively, twisting the thin chain of his necklace around his fingers.
“Was Chase controlling himself when he made Roxy fall in love with him and then stomped all over her heart?”
“I’m not in love with him,” Roxy said. She knew it wasn’t true – in that horrid moment when she saw Scarlett and Chase together, the combined force of love and loss had nearly been enough to stop her heart.
But now a knot of fury was twisting inside her, working itself tighter, growing larger by the moment. She trembled. She had never felt so… wild before. It was as if some independent force within her was struggling to burst right out of her skin, and if she let it loose, she didn’t know what might happen. Would she confront Chase and Scarlett – attack them like an enraged animal? Would she run through the sagebrush of the mountainside, crying her sorrow to an unfeeling moon? Anything seemed possible – anything, and it frightened her.
Darien seemed to sense her disturbance. He pulled her into another embrace and murmured in her ear. The solidness of his body calmed her a little, and she came back to Earth, felt the cold bubble of pain welling in her chest again, the vast black torn-open rent of her loss.
Brooke took her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No.” Roxy righted herself, tucked her disheveled hair behind her ears. Her eyes were still free of tears, and she took a few deep breaths to calm herself. “I’m not in love with him, so it doesn’t matter.”
“Roxy…” Brooke gave her a look, one eyebrow raised, that said she didn’t believe it.
He was just like every other frat boy after all, she told herself bitterly. Just like all the rest. The memory of the sweet, tender way he’d treated her on their last night together nearly choked her. It was all a lie.
That mysterious, raging force inside her had quieted. It no longer threatened to run wild, beyond her control. But she could still feel it throbbing within her soul. It steeled her, giving her courage and resolve she never could have summoned on her own.
“I’m going back in,” she said coolly.
Both Darien and Brooke tried to hold her back, but Roxy shook them off. She made her way back through the crowd, pressing herself among the bodies with sly detachment, as if she walked in slow motion. Her skin tingled from the brush of so many eyes. A few of the men pressed close to her, and she reveled in the nearness of their bodies, smiled at them with taunting entreaty. She did not look toward Chase and Scarlett. It didn’t matter if he saw – if either of them saw. She was doing this for herself, not to wound either one of them.
She found what she sought near the kitchen. Alexander, pale as moonlight in a dove-gray sweater, turned to regard her with curiosity as she emerged from the milling crowd.
“Roxy,” he said. His voice was like cool satin, slick and lush.
“Why don’t you get me a drink?” she asked him, tilting her face flirtatiously as she gazed up into his light blue eyes.
“I thought you don’t take drinks from strangers.”
The force within directed her, and Roxy moved at its command. She laid one hand on his stomach, feeling the flat, hard planes of his body through the whisper-soft cashmere. “You’re not a stranger anymore.”
Alexander’s abrupt, half-choked growl of desire and surprise lit a tiny flame inside Roxy. It didn’t glow with the throbbing heat of Chase’s flame, that wild, innocent abandon that had led her into heartbreak. This flame burned with a small and cunning fire, and Roxy stoked it deliberately, knowing it was well within her control.
Whatever had been between her and Chase no longer existed – if it had ever existed in the first place. Roxy wouldn’t cry over the loss. Chase was just another frat boy, and men of his type didn’t deserve wasted tears.
.6.
R oxy hadn’t allowed herself to think about Chase for days. Every time her wounded heart would begin to thump at the hint of his memory, she would set her jaw and remember the strange, fierce power that had tensed like a fist inside of her. She listened to its voice, a harsh inner whisper full of words she couldn’t quite understand. But she understood its emotions well enough – her emotions. The bitterness of betrayal, shame at her own foolishness, and anger. Anger most of all – at Chase, at Scarlett – but more than anyone else, anger at herself.
The voice also spoke, in its wordless way, of sly tricks, of cunning revenge. She told herself that she’d made a move on Alexander because she was attracted to him – and he was a beautiful man, in a cold, forbidding, untouchable sort of way. But the force inside of her bubbled with delight when she thought of how badly Scarlett had wanted Alexander, how much it would pain her to know that Roxy had taken him, just as Scarlett had taken Chase.
Let her hurt as much as I do, Roxy thought, staring steadily into her own green eyes as she readied herself before the bathroom mirror.
Alexander would arrive soon to pick her up for their date. This would be sweeter, Roxy thought, much more effective if Scarlett were at home. But she hadn’t returned to the little blue house last night, and both Roxy and Brooke assumed she had spent the night with Chase.
Chase wasn’t my boyfriend, anyway. Roxy blinked at herself, unwilling to allow tears to well. There was nothing between us – nothing serious. Not
hing real.
She applied her pale pink lip gloss and ran her fingers through her loose auburn waves one final time, then grabbed her purse and jacket from the hook in the hall.
A horn honked outside. That must be Alexander.
In the kitchen, Brooke was circling a foil pan of stove-top popcorn over one of the range burners. She gave Roxy a significant look as she headed for the door.
“What?” Roxy said, a little peevishly.
“Just be careful.”
“You know I will be.”
“And you know I don’t think this date is a good idea right now, Rox. You should give it more time before you move on. You’re still hurting…”
“I am not.”
The lone arch of Brooke’s brow said, Bullshit. But she kept her peace and turned back to her popcorn. “Call me if you need anything – anything at all.”
“It’s almost like you don’t trust Alexander.”
“What I can’t figure out,” Brooke said, never looking up from the stovetop, “is why you do trust him.”
“I promise I’ll call if I need anything.”
“Good. I’ll be here with a friend, and we’ll come to your rescue if you get into trouble.”
Alexander was waiting. Roxy gaped at the sight of his car, a sleek red Ferrari she had never seen on the streets of Jackson Hole before. It must have cost a fortune; Chase hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the Blackmeade boys all came from serious money. She shook her head abruptly to ward off unwelcome thoughts of Chase, and stifling a giggle of pure excitement, she slid into the Ferrari’s passenger seat.
Alexander’s natural paleness struck a dramatic contrast with the black leather interior. He gave her a cool half-smile, and had wheeled the Ferrari around in the street, zooming toward the center of town almost before they’d finished saying hello.
They had dinner reservations at the White Moose, the most exclusive steakhouse in Jackson, which catered more to the winter population of celebrities on ski vacations than to the typical summertime crowds of families and outdoor adventurers. In her usual dark-jeans-and-sweater getup, Roxy felt a touch underdressed for such a high-end establishment. But Alexander wore his typical clothes, too – simple slacks and cream-colored cashmere – so Roxy held her head up high as she sauntered into the White Moose as if she belonged there.