Beauty Dates the Beast

by Jessica Sims

  Beau’s mouth was unyielding for a split second, but then his arms went around my back, crushing me against him as his lips parted under my own, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I had started the kiss, but it was obvious that Beau was used to being the aggressor.

  And oooh, just the feeling of his tongue sweeping against mine made my toes curl in my shoes. Warmth pulsed through my body, matching the strokes of his tongue against my own, and my fingers curled deeper in his lapel as if I could pull his body closer to mine.

  The kiss was dark and possessive; with each stroke of his tongue, I felt like he was claiming me for his own … and I very much wanted to be claimed. His hand twined in my hair and—

  It felt like every strand was being ripped out of the back of my head. I pulled away with a screech, my hands flying to the knotted mess of sprayed curls that he’d tried to remove with his fingers. “Ow! What are you doing?”

  “I was trying to touch your hair,” he said. “What the hell did you do to it? It’s all glued together. Your hair is gorgeous when it’s not done up like a poodle.”

  A what? “Oh no, you did not just call me a poodle.”

  He tugged on a crunchy lock. “I’m sorry, Bathsheba,” he said, the husky way he said my name like a caress. “Last night your hair was lovely. Tonight it looks like a nest and smells even worse. It’s as if you conspired with Giselle on how to make yourself unappealing.”

  “Jeez. That’s the last time I try to kiss you.” Hurt, I took a step backward. He was right that I didn’t look like myself—I suspected that was part of Giselle’s master plan—but it stung to hear him say that.

  His arm snaked around my waist again and he pulled me close, so close that our mouths were practically touching again. In my high heels, I was eye level to him and our gazes met. He grinned. “No, it’s not.”

  I liked the way his arm lingered at my waist, his hand resting at the dip of my lower back. For a wild moment, I wished he’d rest it a bit lower.

  Some virgin I was.

  “I’m sorry about tonight,” he said in a low voice, and my gaze flicked to his sensual mouth, inches away from mine. “Today was … not good.”

  “You can say that again,” I muttered. “What’s bothering you?”

  Beau seemed to struggle for a moment, then he gave in. “It’s shifter politics. I’m not sure that you’re interested.”

  I gave his lapel a little shake. “I’m interested in everything about you,” I told him, and realized it was true.

  Well, shit. That was going to make things tricky.

  I was rewarded with the faint curve of his sexy mouth in a half-smile, but it quickly disappeared. “It’s Savannah, the were-cougar who’s going into heat. She’s in danger.”

  “What kind of danger?”

  Again, the hesitation. Then he leaned forward and put his forehead against my own, our noses bumping.

  “The wolves have her. They’ve kidnapped her and are going to hold her hostage until I produce another female werewolf. They’re convinced I’m hiding one from them.”

  Chapter Seven

  All the air left my lungs. I stared at him.

  “Female …” I choked around the word. “Werewolf?”

  “They’re insane,” he agreed, looking stressed. He ran a hand down his face and seemed suddenly very tired. “As if we’d hide a female werewolf from them.”

  Oh, God, this just got worse and worse. I forced a sympathetic look to my face, though I wanted to scream in terror. “Can you talk about it?”

  Please, please talk about it. Tell me everything you know.

  Beau gestured at the park bench on the far side of the sidewalk, across from the parking lot. On sunny days, Sara and I ate lunch and chatted there. Tonight, I stared at that bench as if it had been my enemy.

  As I sank down on one end of it, Beau sat on the other side of me. His hand reached for mine and I let him take it, too numb to do anything but stare blankly at him. He seemed to need to touch me, his fingers playing with mine, stroking along the inside of my palm.

  “The wolves have more females than the Alliance does,” he said. “It’s one reason why the wolves rarely using the dating service, I imagine. Between the pack hierarchy rules and the fact that they have more females than the other shifter clans, there isn’t as much of a need. But what they don’t tolerate is a runaway.”

  I swallowed hard. “Are … are they looking for a runaway?”

  “If they are, I don’t know of any.” His fingers played with mine, his gaze not meeting my eyes. “The wolf packs don’t like it when someone leaves the pack. They expect the pack to rule everyone’s lives—even the ones who don’t want to be ruled. They’re judge, jury, and executioner. And since I haven’t helped them in their search, they now think we’re harboring a fugitive female.” His mouth grew hard. “They took Savannah yesterday. Left a note with her abandoned car and said that if we didn’t have the other female back to them by this time next week, they were going to kill her.”

  And Savannah was going to go into heat on Saturday. This just got better and better.

  “What are you going to do?” I asked softly.

  Beau’s mouth gave a wry twist. “I haven’t decided yet. I’m not keen on the thought of handing over some young girl to the wolves, especially since I know what they’re like.”

  I knew what they were like, too. My hand trembled in his.

  He mistook it for cold and pulled me against him, tucking me under his arm. “But I don’t know what to do about Savannah, either. Ramsey’s out looking for her trail, but it’s cold by now. So we’re waiting … and we’ll see what happens.”

  I pulled away from him. “Beau,” I began. It was time to break it off, as much as I liked him and wanted to kiss him again. “I don’t think this is a good time for us to see each other—”

  His eyes gleamed in the darkness, his face showing a flash of haggard emotion. “Bathsheba, don’t say that. I need you. Please.”

  I could tell he wasn’t used to asking for things, and I hesitated—then stood up. “I’m sorry, Beau. But I can’t.”

  Sara was busy with a project, her headphones on, when I went inside. She looked up as I passed. “Hi. How were your dates?”

  I waved her off, not wanting to talk about it, especially in front of the others. Marie and Ryder sat at their desks, chatting and waiting for the phones to ring. They glanced over at me but didn’t approach, as if sensing I needed space. Giselle wasn’t in, at least.

  That was good. I didn’t want to see her gloating face right now. I needed to process.

  I sat down and stared at my computer. My inbox was overflowing, my voice-mail light was flashing, and my monitor was littered with sticky notes … but it could all wait until tomorrow.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  The wolf pack was looking for Sara. Beau’s clanswoman had been kidnapped and was being held for ransom. I’d just broken up with a smart, funny, gorgeous man who I liked far more than I had any business liking. And my boss was going to make me date a naga.

  If ever there was a time to run, now was the time.

  I grabbed my shawl and took off my shoes. “Sara, let’s go home.” We could have a nice, calm conversation. I would explain to her what Beau had just told me, then we could pack our things and quietly leave town and never, ever come back. We’d start over again. Someplace where there was no wolf pack, if such a place existed.

  Maybe Greenland. They needed office managers in Greenland, didn’t they?

  Then I thought of Beau, and my shoulders slumped with exhaustion.

  I couldn’t think about that. I couldn’t.

  Sara pulled off her headphones. “You bet. I’m done anyhow.” Her wariness was apparent; she scented my fear.

  “Great,” I said, forcing a lighter note to my voice. “I want to check out the house. Ten bucks says that Mike went through my panty drawer.”

  She laughed, some of the tension easing from her shoulders, and I felt a little
less tense at her returning smile.

  Since the car was still at the house, Ryder gave us a lift. As we drove home, my thoughts were torn.

  Sara was in danger.

  I couldn’t stop thinking about Beau.

  Sara and I needed to run … but I really wanted to call Beau and explain. But what if he told the wolves that Sara was the one they were looking for?

  Exhausted from the mental ping-pong, I gave Ryder a halfhearted wave good-bye as I slid out of her car and headed to the porch. The lights to the house were off, and I dug around in my purse for the extra house key. My hands were shaking so badly that my purse tipped the wrong way and the contents slid across the porch, scattering in every direction.

  I swore a blue streak.

  “You’re edgy tonight. Date must not have gone well,” Sara said and brushed past me to shove her key in the lock. “Let me open the door.”

  I started picking up the spill of junk and throwing it back in my purse. “Sorry,” I said. “My head is just not functioning tonight.”

  “I know how you feel,” she said, twisting the key in the lock. Sara grabbed the doorknob and shoved against the door, only to bounce backward in surprise. “That’s weird.”

  I scooped up the last of my junk and zipped my purse. “What’s weird?”

  Her delicate brown brows furrowed together as she stared at the door, then back at me. “I think … I think I just locked it.” She turned the key again and the deadbolt clicked. “Wow, that’s really weird.”

  Unease swept over me. I touched her arm before she could step inside. “Do you smell anything?”

  She grimaced. “Just my perfume. We had a were-lynx in tonight and I dosed up just before you got there.”

  I dug out my cell phone, clutching it tight. As I stared at my sister, the thought kept echoing in my mind that the wolves were looking for a runaway. “I’m going inside,” I said in a whisper. “You stay out here!”

  “No way!” She shook her head. “What do you think it is?”

  I couldn’t tell her yet, so I pushed the door open, putting a finger to my lips to shush her. Swallowing hard, I forced myself to step inside our small foyer. The interior was completely dark, filling me with fear. We always left a light on. Either Mike had turned the light off, or someone else had. “Wait here,” I whispered, knowing she probably wouldn’t.

  Moving down the hall, I fumbled for the light switch. The hall light flicked on and I squinted, noticing that Sara had followed me in. Her nose worked as she scented the air.

  I stared around the hallway, then took a few steps in. I could feel something was off, and unease spread through me.

  “I smell … something,” Sara whispered.

  “What is it?” My blood went cold.

  “Almost like the garbage turned … like last night.”

  Forcing myself to step forward, I headed for the kitchen. We had a baseball bat in the pantry for safety against intruders.

  Upstairs, something shuffled and the floorboards groaned.

  “What’s that?” Sara asked, though we both could guess.

  I turned and shoved her toward the front door. “Go. Run.”

  She shook her head at me. “No! I’m not leaving you.”

  Damn it! My fingers gripped her arm and I dragged her toward the kitchen. “Come on,” I hissed.

  The boards overhead creaked again, and whatever it was upstairs was heading in my direction. Our direction. In a few moments, it would turn the corner and come down the stairs.

  Sara’s light frame made it easy for me to drag her along beside me.

  “What are you doing—”

  “Shhh!” I opened the pantry and shoved her in. “Don’t come out until I say it’s safe.”

  “But—” Her eyes were wide, frightened.

  “Just stay. Good dog!” I told her and shut the door.

  The ceiling creaked overhead, loud, and I heard a heavy foot land on the top of the steps, then another.

  I bolted around the small island and scrambled for the cutlery. Our big carving knife stuck out of the wooden knife-block, and I grabbed it, twisting the handle in my hands nervously.

  The heavy feet continued to slowly stomp down the stairs, and I heard the scratch of claws as they landed on the hardwood floor at the base of the stairwell.

  It wasn’t human.

  The urge to scream in fear was overwhelming, and I forced myself to concentrate. If it wasn’t human, it was probably fast. That meant I had to be ready.

  A thick, rancid smell filled the air, and the knife suddenly didn’t feel like enough. Whatever it was, it smelled … horrible. Like three-day-old, rotting-in-the-sun roadkill. And through it all, that horrible, slick clicking of claws.

  A low growl sounded through the house.

  I crossed the room. I wouldn’t be able to outrun or outmuscle it, but I could at least lead it away from Sara.

  Emerging from the kitchen, I saw a dark shape turn to face me from the other end of the hallway.

  It wasn’t a wolf, which surprised me. It was like no shapeshifter I’d ever seen before. It was some sort of cat … thing. Thick, bulging muscles distorted its body under the taut, dirty fur. The teeth were distended in a contorted snarl, and the eyes were red. At the shoulder it was twice as high as any normal lion, nearly to my chin.

  Shit, I was going to need a bigger knife.

  As the creature started toward me, I backed into the kitchen and slammed the door shut. It crashed into the door, which shook on its hinges. Gasping for breath, I darted to the island and yanked out my emergency drawer.

  I pulled out a sharpened wooden stake and tossed it aside. Not a vampire. A cross, holy water, a mirror—all no good …

  The doorframe rattled again, and I heard the sound of the wood splintering.

  Hurry, hurry! My fingers closed around the plastic baggy where I kept the wolfsbane—it was empty. Shit. I frantically reached to the back of the drawer … and found it: colloidal silver—liquid silver mixed with water. The perfect anti-shape-shifter potion.

  The beast on the other side of the door snarled, then the entire doorframe shattered. The red eyes stared at me, and the creature opened its long-fanged mouth and let loose an unearthly scream.

  I slammed the top of the long bottle against the counter and the neck shattered. The creature took two steps toward me, and I flung the contents of the bottle on it.

  A thick splash struck the creature across the face. It screamed in pain, skidding to a halt and writhing on the floor. One of the big, clawed paws tore at its face, and the yellow teeth bared in a hideous grimace. Then the undulating muscles rippled, and when the creature stood to face me again, my mouth went dry. Maybe colloidal silver didn’t stop this creature? …

  It roared and burst out of the kitchen.

  I grabbed my knife and followed it, skidding on the wet, dirty floor. A shard of glass bit into my foot, but I didn’t stop.

  Glass crashed and the creature burst through the window in the living room, giving one more eerie, catlike scream as it disappeared into the night.

  My breath escaped me in a whoosh.

  Another window broke, this one in the foyer. My hand tightened on my knife again and I raised the blade, my eyes wild as another cat shifter burst into the living room. I threw the weapon at the creature. It dodged at the last moment, and my knife skidded across the carpet.

  I took a panicked step backward, my eyes on the newcomer. Adrenaline blacked my vision, spots swimming at the edges of my sight. As I took another step backward something clicked, and I realized that the creature in front of me was a cougar, rapidly shifting back to human form. One of the Russells, maybe? Still watching over our house?

  The cavalry had arrived. All the adrenaline rushed out of my body. Safe.

  “Bathsheba!” Sara cried. I turned to her, scanning her to make sure she was okay. Her eyes were glittering, her face wrinkling in the telltale sign that it was about to sprout a muzzle, and her arms were covered in thi
ck, dark gray hair. Her feet were perilously close to the silver water, which would incapacitate her. “Sara! Get back! Don’t let them see you.”

  “Forget about me,” she argued back, her words turning into a snarl as her teeth elongated and sharpened into canines. “Just don’t kill Beau!”

  Beau? That threw even more panic into me, and I shoved Sara back into the pantry, ignoring her wolflike yelp. “Don’t come out until I’ve cleaned all this up,” I hissed, then bolted for the living room. I slipped on the wet silver spilled all over the kitchen and grasped the broken doorframe to keep my balance, then pushed into the foyer.

  “Damn it, Bathsheba,” Beau snarled, eyes narrow as he looked me over. “Who were you going to stab with that knife?”

  He was naked. Really naked. His wide shoulders were every bit as mouthwatering as I remembered, muscles clearly defining his lean frame. He had a fine six-pack and the most amazing hard ridge of flesh along his hip bones… .

  “I ran out of silver,” I said blankly, still staring at his chest. It was remarkably perfect, without a hint of softness.

  “Silver?”

  “I … oh, yes,” I said, shaking myself free of the mesmerizing hold his abs had on me. “Don’t go in the kitchen. There’s silver water everywhere.”

  He grabbed my wrist. To my surprise, he pushed me back against the wall, his hands grabbing my shoulders and running over my body in a fast check. “Are you all right? Are you hurt? Answer me.”

  Bewildered, I stared at him and tried to shove his hands away. “I’m fine—”

  A low growl escaped his throat and he kissed me.

  It was like being swallowed into the eye of a storm. All rational thought went out the window. His lips crushed mine, frantic and possessive. His tongue stroked against the seam of my mouth, demanding entrance and demanding my submission. It was glorious. I wanted more. I opened my mouth, my tongue seeking his. They touched briefly, then tangled. His tongue stroked along mine, lighting a series of flickering sensations along the rest of my body. Gasping noises emerged from my throat, followed by a possessive growl of his own. I needed this—oh, I needed this. His tongue was conquering, thrusting, dominating. God, his mouth tasted so sweet and …