by T. S. Joyce
The information on Greyson had an address listed at the bottom. Cabin 6 looked like it was at the very end, so she eased her mustang down the pot-hole-riddled dirt road, her eyes on the cabins the entire time. Her ride was souped-up and the exhaust loud. She couldn’t hear it, but she liked big exhaust because she could feel the rumble. Touch was everything. The panthers should hear it, but no one was coming out of the cabins. Not until she pulled up to Cabin 6.
As she eased to a rolling stop and put the car in park, the cabin door opened slowly and out stepped a man. No…out stepped a beast. He was as tall as her father and every bit as wide through the shoulders. Blond hair was swept up and messy on top but shaved on the sides. Tendrils of ink snaked down his neck and disappeared into the white, thin material of his T-shirt. Both arms were covered in tattoos, but she didn’t spend time studying them. His eyes were what captured her. Piercing blue, steady on her, but empty. His head was canted as if he was a curious animal, but his mouth was set in a grim line.
He didn’t approach the car, but instead leaned on the open doorframe of his home, arms crossed so his biceps looked even bigger. Fuck, he could give Torren a run for his money on size. She’d assumed panthers would be smaller. Leaner. As she turned the car off and stepped out, her heart was banging hard against her sternum.
This was where it was going to get awkward. If he didn’t know about her disability, he could hurt her with his reaction. She’d been hurt a thousand times and had hardened her heart against the sting of that pain, but this felt different. This man was a shot at something steady, something safe, and she didn’t want him to reject her right away.
Not for being deaf.
She wanted him to look deeper. People always forgot to do that, though, so she expected the worst.
Poker face.
If it doesn’t work, try again.
Be brave.
For once, be fucking brave.
Chapter Three
What the actual hell was this lady doing here in Red Havoc territory? Did she have a death wish? She was damn lucky Barret and the others were in town right now or she would’ve had a brawl on her hands at the front gate.
“Can you not read the signs. No trespassing,” he gritted out as the woman approached his porch.
She had a piece of paper in her hands, and rudely, didn’t answer him. Just climbed the stairs steadily and handed him the paper. Her hand was shaking.
Greyson narrowed his eyes at the familiar paper and snatched it from her hand. He read the first few lines out loud. “Greyson McCarty. Registered panther shifter. No mother. Father in shifter prison. Protective naturally. Bottom of the Red Havoc Crew by choice. Known likes…” He shook his head in shock. “What the fuck? I didn’t put any of this on the questionnaire.” Realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. “Wait, are you Genevieve?”
She nodded, her chin tucked to her chest like a child in trouble, her eyes on his lips.
“Are you submissive?” he asked, his voice getting louder.
Another nod, and he was going to fucking kill Willa Barns.
“The main thing I asked for in a match was a big-cat shifter, and the second thing was she needed to be dominant. Submissives won’t work in this crew. The females here are dominant she-monsters.”
She shook her head like she was confused, and she was still staring at his lips. This was getting weird. Genevieve was here, standing on his porch, the exact opposite of what he’d asked for. His hands shook, but not from submissive nerves like her…from anger instead. Somebody had wasted both of their time.
Greyson scrubbed his hand down his three-day scruff and sighed. “Okay. Let me think. We both got played. I’m not mad at you. You don’t have to be mad at me, but this isn’t a match. I’m sorry you drove out here. I can give you…I don’t know…gas money if you want it.”
Genevieve frowned at his lips and nodded once. And then without a word, she spun and bounded off the porch. He watched her go and really looked at her. She was tall, only a few inches shorter than him, and fit. Her ass looked fantastic in those tight, dark-wash jeans. Girl did her squats, or maybe gorilla shifters were just built like that. Strong. She had that hourglass shape he found so damn sexy, and her dark hair was cut short in a bob. She had bangs that hung in front of her face and swept to the side, but her hair didn’t hide her eyes. No, instead, they made the blue more vibrant surrounded by all that dark. She was wearing a black headband with dark jewels that matched her skin-tight black shirt. What was most surprising was the ride she drove in. That wasn’t a rental license plate, so she really owned the royal blue ’69 Ford Mustang with the black racing stripe down the body and the hood scoop. Someone had put big tires and shiny chrome rims on it, and the old car was clean. Even the leather seats inside were black with a thick blue racing stripe down the driver’s seat. He’d heard it coming it. Sounded like damn thunder coasting through the clearing. Clearly someone had done some serious modifications to this car to get it sounding like a damn beast. Did she work on the car? She was interesting—he would give her that much. Rude, though, for not talking.
She got in her car, and he gave her a two-fingered wave. Bye, Genevieve.
But instead of driving away, she leaned inside and got back out, toting a suitcase like it weighed nothing. She slammed the door to her car and marched back up to the porch. His face probably had a dumbfounded look right now.
“What, no!” he said as she shoved her way past him and into the house. “Seriously, no! You aren’t staying.”
She ignored him like a champ, so he grabbed her suitcase handle and pulled.
Genevieve startled so bad her entire body jerked, and when her eyes locked with his, the terror there made him let go of the suitcase immediately. She retreated toward the wall, not giving him her back, her eyes dipping to the floorboards as she clutched her suitcase close to her body like a shield.
Her hands still shook badly, so he squatted down and exposed his neck. It had been a long damn time since he’d been around a submissive, and he’d forgotten how gently they needed to be handled. God, he was an asshole. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
No reaction. Her eyes were still on the floor, her back pressed against the wall next to the hallway. Genevieve inhaled sharply, and when she looked up at him, her eyes were rimmed with tears, her lips parted like she wanted to say something.
“What is it?” he asked low. “What’s wrong?”
A tear streaked down her face, and her cheeks went red as she rushed to wipe it away. She shook her head hard, sidestepped into the hallway, made her way into his bedroom, and then shut the door with a soft click. The lock sounded a second later.
Greyson stood slowly, utterly stunned by the moment they’d just shared. Inside, his panther was snarling, ready to fight what had hurt her, but that made no sense. She was a stranger, and the only thing she needed protecting was from him. He’d hurt her somehow. Made her cry, and now he felt like shit.
Ben was gonna kill him, revive him, and then kill him again for bringing a gorilla shifter into the mountains. He needed to talk to the alpha of Red Havoc as soon as possible because Greyson couldn’t kick her out now. He wasn’t mean enough, and something was wrong with her. She was scared. The terror in her pretty blue eyes at just being touched said as much, and now those protective instincts Willa talked about on his information sheet were kicked up to level-red.
Bangaboarlander had been a huge mistake—for both of them.
Chapter Four
God, she was pathetic. The only daughter of Kong, hiding in a locked bedroom, too embarrassed to face her potential mate.
Greyson had looked totally shocked when she’d panicked. He’d startled her, though. Him grabbing her suitcase was unexpected—she hadn’t known he was right behind her. It was times like this she wished so hard she’d been born normal, that she’d been born with hearing. She wished she had the same senses as all the other shifters, but that wasn’t her path. She’d never heard her moth
er’s voice singing lullabies at night to her and Torren, or Dad saying “I love you, Little Monkey,” or the birds or the wind in the trees or thunder or fucking anything except her own voice if she yelled loud enough, and she hated the sound of it. It was thick and off-key.
Stupid silence. It had ruined her first meeting with Greyson. He probably thought she was a total nutcase now. And he would be right. She was. But it wasn’t always like this.
On the bed, she drew her knees up to her chest and stared at her open suitcase. She’d meant to unpack, but the drawers were full of Greyson’s clothes. She probably should’ve checked if the 1010 trailer was available before she moved in here, but she hadn’t been thinking straight. When she’d seen the rejection in his eyes as he tried to send her away, she’d panicked.
Oh, Greyson was a monster kitty. He felt heavy, and so dominant, but he’d gone to his knees the second she’d startled at him grabbing her luggage. Why? Why would a big alpha male like him do that? It didn’t make any sense. She was beneath him. The lowest-ranking member in the family group, she would be the lowest-ranking member here, too. And yet he’d knelt and angled his head, exposing his neck in submission to her.
No man had ever done that.
Gen made her way to the door and rested her forehead against the cold wood, hand hovering over the handle. For once, be fucking brave.
Inhaling deeply, she eased the door open and padded out into the hallway. Carefully, she peeked around the corner. Greyson was standing by a small island in the kitchen, a bowl of cereal in front of him, spoon lifted to his open mouth, his eyes on hers as he stood there frozen like a statue. There was a loaded moment that sparked like electricity between them before he broke it and turned his back on her.
For a split second, she was hurt, but then he pulled a bowl from the cabinet by the fridge. His lips didn’t form a single word as he made a second bowl of cereal, complete with milk and spoon. With a quick glance at her, he exposed his neck again and slid the bowl toward her. A peace offering.
Chest heaving with emotion she didn’t understand, Gen made her way to the small kitchen island and sat on the single barstool. She dared a smile of thanks to him, and then in silence, always in silence, she ate off-brand Frosty Loops with him, one slow bite at a time. He kept pace, and with each bite, his eyes softened. The wariness left his countenance, and by the end of the bowl, the corners of his lips were turned up ever so slightly in a smile.
“You have a nice smile,” he said. His lips were easy to read. Greyson was a man who enunciated well. Bonus points.
She wanted to return the compliment. Even slight, his smile kept drawing her attention. Full lips under a blondish-red beard and straight, white, perfect teeth. His eyes crinkled in the corners, even when his smile was tiny. She bet he was stunning when he gave a big smile. But she couldn’t return the compliment because she didn’t trust her voice. Never had. So she ducked her gaze shyly and stood to take her bowl to the sink. She took his too, and rinsed them. She felt his eyes on her back, and when she turned around, he said, “You didn’t have to do mine.”
She shrugged. She’d done all the dishes for the family group. One bowl and one spoon was nothing, and he’d been kind to make her a snack in the first place.
“…to me?” he asked. She’d missed the first part, so she watched his lips and hoped he would repeat, but he didn’t. He just frowned at her, confusion swirling in his piercing blue eyes.
He opened his mouth to say something, but before he formed a word, he turned suddenly to the door. His neck muscles twitched with words she couldn’t see, and then the front door opened suddenly, so hard it banked against the wall. The man who came in looked furious. Blond hair, gold eyes, his heavy dominance filled the whole room and made him feel the size of an eighteen-wheeler instead of a six-foot-tall man. He was talking too fast, jamming his finger at her. There were others leaking into the house behind him.
For once, be fucking brave.
Gen ignored her bone-deep instinct to run back to the room and lock herself in so they wouldn’t make her leave. Instead, she forced one foot in front of the other and stood by Greyson. He looked down at her, determination in his eyes. “It’s okay.”
He looked at the dominant man, probably the alpha, Benson Saber, if her research on the reclusive crew was correct. They were yelling at each other. She could tell by the bulging veins in the alpha’s neck. There was another man behind him, smiling as he looked back and forth between Ben and Greyson. There were two other women, and then…Eden? Shocked, Gen signed hello to her. Eden looked just as stunned to see her standing in the small cabin, too.
“Gen?” Eden grinned so big as she ran for her.
Eden lifted her off the ground like they used to hug when they were growing up around Damon’s Mountains. A set of impossibly strong arms went around them both in their hug, and with one sniff, Gen smelled Jaxon. Jaxon was here, too? She was laughing like a lunatic. She probably sounded like one, but fuck it. Her friends were here. This wasn’t so scary now.
Eden released her and signed in simple alphabet, What are you doing here?
Fingers flying with excitement, Gen explained that she was here to see Grey. When she turned to point at him, he was staring at her hands with a deep furrow to his brow. She froze mid-explanation. Oooh, that’s right. He didn’t know.
“You’re deaf?” he asked.
Gen dropped her hands immediately at the disappointment on his face. Her stomach curdled with that all too familiar rejection. He was just staring at her, the cereal smile long gone, waiting on an answer, so she nodded.
He scratched the back of his head and took two steps back, and now he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Anger flared through her chest like a wild fire on a windy day. In ASL, she signed, Stupid boy.
“I don’t understand what that means,” Greyson said, enunciating each word slowly. He was probably speaking at yelling volume too, like that would help.
Her disappointment yawned open like a canyon. She gave him her middle finger. Understand this. She shrugged out from under Eden’s arm, and made her way back to the bedroom.
She couldn’t hear what was going on out there, but she could imagine it. Jaxon and Eden would be sticking up for her. They’d grown up near Damon’s Mountains together, and that created loyalty. She loved them for it, but it wouldn’t matter. She was leaving in the morning.
The deep disappointment in Greyson’s eyes flashed across her mind, and her hands began to shake again, but this time out of fury. She’d been so stupid to have moments of hope during their cereal meal. Hope that he was different and wouldn’t judge her. Hope that he could be the one to keep her safe, give her a good life. Hope that she could do the same for him.
If it doesn’t work, try again.
Tonight she was going to cry and let herself feel disappointed over the let-down, because it was okay to hurt for a little while. Even tough girls were allowed to cry sometimes.
But then tomorrow, she was going to wake up, pack her things into her Mustang, and then she would try again.
Chapter Five
He’d screwed up again. God, he couldn’t stop screwing up with her. She was angry at his reaction, obviously. He’d been shocked, though. A deaf shifter? How did that even happen? They had amazing abilities to heal. It couldn’t be from a childhood illness because shifters didn’t get sick. Had she been deaf her whole life?
She’d slammed the door. He didn’t know much about women, but a slamming door wasn’t a good sign.
“Greyson!” Ben yelled. “Are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
No. “Of course. Yes,” Greyson murmured, forcing his attention from the hallway where Genevieve had disappeared.
“Dude, you’re a total chode,” Jaxon said. Why was his face red like he was pissed? “Gen is literally the nicest person ever. She flipped you off. You done messed the fuck up.”
“H-has she always been deaf?”
“Yeah,” Eden said in a pissed-off tone. “Sinc
e birth.”
“What the fuck is she doing here?” Ben asked, looking from face to face like everyone had lost their mind but him. “Seriously? Gen? Genevieve the daughter of Layla and Kong? Of the Lowlanders? You brought a motherfucking gorilla into my mountains?”
In a half-assed explanation, Greyson muttered, “I didn’t bring her here. We just matched up on Bangaboarlander.”
Jaxon snorted and pursed his lips against an annoying grin. “Only losers go on bangaboarlander.”
“Correction,” Anson said from where he was leaning on the front wall. “Only desperate losers go on bangaboarlander.”
“I’m gonna kick all of y’all’s asses if you don’t shut up,” Eden gritted out. “Obviously, Gen was on bangaboarlander, and she’s neither desperate nor a loser. She’s awesome. You,” she said, jamming a finger at Greyson, “get a D minus for manners. I’m gonna go check on her.”
“No!” Greyson rushed out, bolting for the hallway before she could get there.
“What?” Eden asked. “Why?”
“Because I should be the one to check on her.” He wanted to go knock on the door so bad and apologize. Wait…would she hear a knock? “How am I supposed to talk to her?” he asked Eden.
“A gorilla!” Ben repeated, hands on his hips and a pissed-off glare trained on Greyson. He lifted his pointer finger. “Lions.” His middle finger was up next. “Falcons.” Ring finger. “Gorillas. Are you all going to get us in a war with every goddamned bloodthirsty shifter culture in America?”
“Yes,” Anson answered with a grin.
“Shut up,” Ben growled.
Jaxon raised his hand. “I’d like to point out that my mate is a panther shifter, so I shouldn’t be in trouble.”