Bad Blood Leopard (Bad Blood Shifters Book 3)

by Anastasia Wilde

  Then she sat, biting her lips, trying to decide what to do.

  The Bad Blood Crew seemed like good people, and they’d been good to her. She owed them something. More than she owed Jared.

  If she was going to save them—if they deserved saving—she was going to have to abuse their hospitality in a big way.

  It was time for her to go back to being a spook.

  Chapter 12

  Wearing her owl form, Caitlyn glided silently onto the roof of the main cabin. It was late afternoon, and the crew was getting ready to cook dinner in the outdoor barbecue area, next to the fire pit. The sky was clouding up—her owl’s weather sense told her it would rain later.

  Right now, the cloud cover made it easier for her to hide in the fading light.

  She landed next to the skylight over the second story. With any luck, Flynn’s secret “alpha-type meeting” was taking place in his office in the loft.

  If not, she might have to sneak inside, which would be a lot more dangerous.

  For once, her luck held. They were almost right underneath her—and they weren’t keeping their voices down.

  “I am not going back to the goddamn Dragonlands,” Flynn said. “Not if the Elder King himself sends me a fucking Candygram with an engraved invitation. When I left, it was for good.”

  Ashley almost fell through the skylight.

  Flynn was from the Dragonlands? Most people didn’t believe they were even real. The dragons had withdrawn from this world over a thousand years ago. Access to them was restricted to the highest security clearance levels of the Shifter Council and the Intelligence Agency—and even then, it didn’t happen very often.

  Another voice spoke, low and gravelly. “The heads of the Draken Houses are recalling all of the Lion Guard they can find,” it said. That must be the other lion—Harrison Ward, Ashley’s manager.

  “That’s got shit to do with me,” Flynn said. “They abandoned me when I was a goddamn cub. I owe them nothing.”

  “Be that as it may,” said a third man, probably Israel, “you may not be able to stay out of this fight. This territory was created with dragon magic; technically, they could say it’s part of the Dragonlands.”

  “I didn’t ask for this territory, Wolf,” Flynn growled. He was talking to Israel, then. “You created it the day we fought Nashville, and you made me take it or put my crew out of a home. But I accepted responsibility for it—and for them—and it’s mine now. And I’ll defend it against anybody who comes. Including fucking dragons.”

  Ashley spoke then, her voice low and musical. “Flynn, we didn’t come here to fight with you. We’re on your side.” She sighed. “Hell, I’m here in this world, with Israel, because I was sick to death of infighting and politics, and being a good little draken girl who didn’t care about anything but power and gold.”

  That made Caitlyn suck in her breath. Ashley Silver wasn’t illegally dealing in dragon artifacts.

  She was an actual fucking dragon.

  Caitlyn was so shocked she nearly missed the next part of the conversation.

  “But as much as I try to stay out of things, I don’t like what I’m hearing from the few friends I have left in the other realm. The walls between the worlds are breaking down.”

  Israel put in, “The faction of the dragons’ Elder Council that wants to reestablish their presence in our world is getting louder and more powerful. If Ashley can have access to this world, they reason, so should they. And some of them are power-hungry monsters with no regard for human life.”

  “Awesome,” Flynn said. “I suppose you two didn’t think of that when Ashley decided she wanted to be a star, and Israel decided to be whatever kind of fucked-up dragon hybrid he is now?”

  Israel growled low in his throat. “I did that for Ashley,” he said. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat. And I’m still enough of a wolf to rip your throat out if you don’t show my mate the respect she deserves.”

  Flynn snorted. “I don’t show anybody respect, Wolf. Deal with it.”

  Harrison said, “It’s not really about Israel and Ashley. This was going on long before they came into the picture. The barriers the Eldest set up when they departed this world are crumbling. Dragon artifacts have been resurfacing all over the world for the last five or ten years. The dragons and the Lion Guard have been scrambling to get them back before they fall into the wrong hands.”

  “And new powers have been manifesting in all the species that are Draken-touched,” Ashley added. “Not just the white wolves. But the others—the white lions, the albino leopards, the snowy owls. Dreams, visions, madness—it’s like whatever powers the dragons bestowed on them so long ago are starting to run amok.”

  “Tell me about it,” Flynn said. “I got a half-white wolf that turns into a monster when he gets out of control, and passed that little gem of a power onto his mate when they bonded. And we got Tristan, and Mina Reston’s kid out at Silverlake. They’ve got mental powers nobody’s seen before.”

  “And it’s going to get worse,” Harrison said. “We just wanted you to be prepared. And I still work for the Lion Guard of the House of Akkabi, so I had to deliver their message, even though I knew you’d tell them to fuck off.”

  “I’m always prepared,” Flynn said. “But thanks for the heads-up. It’s nice to at least know which direction the next shitstorm is probably coming from.”

  An hour later, Caitlyn was standing at her bedroom window looking out, a cup of tea going cold in her hands.

  Sloan wasn’t part of a smuggling ring. She didn’t believe he ever had been. Either someone had made a mistake, or the report Jared sent her was a lie, just like she’d first suspected.

  But if Sloan hadn’t killed Kayisha, who had? Korchak? He was the only one besides Sloan who might have escaped.

  She had to tell Sloan who she was, what she knew. She had to tell him that Jared and the Agency were closing in on him. Maybe if she heard his story, they could find a way to clear his name.

  She heard Sloan come into the trailer. He stopped in the doorway, and she turned to face him.

  Already, after only being with him for a day, just seeing him made her want to smile. His hair was mussed and he smelled of charcoal smoke and forest and sexy male.

  A pang of want went through her, so sharp she almost gasped.

  “Hey,” he said when he saw her, his breathtaking smile spreading over his face. “You’re feeling better. That’s great. We’re barbecuing for dinner. Want to come out?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Let me get changed.” She was still in her sweats, and she hadn’t done anything to her hair.

  “You look fine,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

  She could see in his eyes that it wasn’t empty words. He really did think she was beautiful. Without thinking, she went up to him and kissed his cheek, standing on tiptoe and cupping his face with her hand.

  He caught her wrist, then turned his head slowly and covered her lips with his.

  Warmth spread all the way through Caitlyn, from her lips through her chest and stomach and down to her toes. It was more than the sexual excitement she’d felt last night. It was deeper, stronger.

  Like coming home on a winter night and finding a welcoming light in the window, and people who loved you inside.

  She slipped one arm around his neck and rested the other on his chest. He kissed her slowly, gently, as if he felt the same warmth and wanted to make it last as long as possible.

  Finally he broke the kiss, resting his forehead on hers. “Wow,” he whispered.

  “Yeah.”

  She couldn’t speak, couldn’t let go of him. She felt like nothing would ever feel as good as just holding him.

  He stroked her hair back over her shoulder with gentle fingers. “I was going to ask you something later,” he said softly, “but maybe this would be a good time.”

  “Okay,” she said. “What is it?”

  “I want you to stay with me,” he said. “Would you? I mean, here in
the guest room. No pressure. I just…” He gave a soft sigh.

  “I feel like this, you and me, is something important. I know I’m not mate material, I know I probably can’t offer you anything worthwhile for your future. I know… ah, hell.” He broke off, then pulled her close and spoke softly in her ear.

  “I’m a broken wreck of a man, Caitie, but already when you’re around, I feel almost whole. Please stay, for a while at least. Maybe you can help me be the kind of man you deserve.”

  Caitlyn closed her eyes. She should tell him. She should tell him now—all her secrets, all the things she’d hidden from him.

  But she couldn’t. Not while he was standing here, stripping his soul bare for her, so fragile and hopeful.

  “You’re already a better man than I deserve,” she said. “And you make me feel… like I’ve come home to a place I never knew existed. So yes,” she kissed him softly, “I’ll stay.”

  The smile that lit up his eyes nearly broke her heart. He hugged her so hard he took her breath away. “Good,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Well, good.”

  She hugged him back. The rest could wait until later. They had time.

  Chapter 13

  Sloan was almost asleep when he heard the rumble of thunder in the distance.

  The barbecue had broken up when a light rain started, but before that it was fun. He’d played his guitar after dinner, sung a few duets with Ashley.

  Watched the pleasure on Caitlyn’s face while she listened to the music. Sat up talking to her for hours after they came inside. Put her to bed with a kiss—several dozen, actually—and reluctantly gone to bed alone in his own room. Marveled at the warm relaxed feeling inside him, finally realizing it was happiness.

  The thunder rumbled again.

  Fuck. He squeezed his skull between his two hands, as if that would make his brain not go crazy. He didn’t need this. Not his first night with Caitlyn in the house.

  He waited, counting in his head to keep himself calm. After two minutes, thunder rumbled again. It was far away. Maybe the storm wouldn’t get this far.

  Maybe his fucking ghost would leave him alone.

  The sound of the door opening startled him. Caitlyn slipped into the room and climbed into bed with him, leaning against the headboard and pulling her knees up to her chest.

  “Hey,” he said. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. After a pause, she added, “It’s thundering.”

  He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. Holding her made him relax a tiny fraction. “You scared of thunder?” That would be ironic—him comforting someone else during a thunderstorm.

  She shook her head. “But Xander told me to stay close to you during thunderstorms.”

  Fucking Xander. Couldn’t he have given Sloan a few days to seem normal before ratting out his weaknesses? “Xander has a big mouth.”

  “Mmm.”

  They sat there for a little while, Sloan trying not to flinch each time he heard the thunder, and also trying not to strain his eyes looking for a ghost with a gaping wound in her neck.

  “You know what?” Caitlyn said suddenly. “We should build a fort.”

  Sloan gave a short laugh. “A what?”

  She said, “Didn’t you ever build a fort when you were a kid? I used to build them during storms. You drape a blanket from the top of the couch across a couple of chairs, and then you pile all the couch cushions and pillows on the floor and crawl inside and ride out the storm in your own little cave. With hot chocolate.”

  She turned those bright, sparkling eyes to him. “You in?”

  What the hell. It was better than waiting for ghosts to appear. “Sure.”

  Fifteen minutes later they were inside their fort, drinking instant hot chocolate with stale marshmallows. Sloan sprawled on his stomach, knees bent, feet in the air and toes brushing the blanket overhead, while Caitlyn leaned her back against the couch, legs extended next to him, one hand on his back.

  It was dark and warm, and it felt like a safe place. Someplace a ghost couldn’t get to. They talked quietly, sharing funny stories—Caitlyn talking about her childhood, Sloan about the Bad Blood Crew.

  But he couldn’t forget the thunder in the background.

  Without warning, there was a crack right overhead.

  A shell explodes too damn close to him, the shockwave knocking him off his feet, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

  Sloan struggles to his feet. Kayisha! Where is Kayisha?

  Her voice comes to him faintly. Here… I’m here… follow my voice…

  “Sloan! Sloan!”

  Someone was shaking him, calling out. “Sloan, come back. It’s me, Caitlyn.” He tried to orient himself, but he was caught between two worlds. She grabbed his face and kissed him, hard. “Don’t listen to her,” she said. “Listen to me.” She kissed him again, biting his lower lip, hard enough to draw a tiny bit of blood.

  He jerked back, scrambling on all fours, his body in a defensive crouch.

  “Sloan!”

  He dropped slowly to his knees. “Caitlyn? What happened?”

  Thunder boomed again and he flinched, throwing his elbow up to cover his face.

  There were three seconds between the boom and the flash. Just enough time for Caitlyn to crawl over and throw her arms around him. “It’s okay. Stay with me. It’s okay.”

  He was shaking. “Caitie, I can’t. The thunder… fuck.”

  “Shh. You’re okay. Come here.”

  She pulled him against her, wrapping him in her arms. “Would it help to talk about it?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” It might keep the ghost from coming. It might keep him from heading for the cliff. “Maybe.”

  She waited, one hand stroking him soothingly, until he began to speak.

  “I was in the military,” he said quietly. “Shifter special ops. You know about them, right?”

  “Not much.”

  “Good. You don’t want to.” He paused. “My last mission, I was in Afghanistan. And everything fucking went to hell.”

  He told her his story then. About Kayisha, who he cared about, who he was supposed to protect. About Charlie, his mentor and friend, who never made it back. About reliving the same scene, over and over and over, knowing it was supposed to be different, and never being able to change a thing.

  “I have flashbacks whenever I hear thunder,” he said. “It’s like I’m really back there, with grit in my mouth and desert dirt under my feet. Feeling the heat and the terror and the despair.”

  He took a deep breath. “She haunts me, Caitie. She’s dead, and it’s my fault. I couldn’t get back to her in time.”

  “I’m sure you did everything you could,” she said softly.

  He shook his head. “That’s just it. I don’t know what I did. Or didn’t do. I woke up later, nowhere near the village, with a shit-ton of broken bones and the fucking mother of all concussions. I didn’t know where the hell I was or what I was doing there. All I knew was I had to get away, and I couldn’t let anyone see me. I couldn’t go back to the army. There was no one I could trust.”

  Her hand stilled for a moment, then started stroking him again. “You didn’t go back to the village?”

  He gave a snort of bitter laughter. “I didn’t even remember the village until weeks later. Or my team. Not until my first thunderstorm. Then pieces of it came back to me in the worst fucking way.” He gave an ironic snort. “Just not the pieces that matter.”

  “Did you contact the army at all?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “Maybe I’m a coward. But I’d failed in my mission, and Kayisha was dead. I was AWOL—a deserter—and facing God knows how many charges.”

  He shrugged. “I changed my name and went underground. But I got some of what was coming to me, anyway. From Alexander Grant.”

  He heard her draw in her breath sharply. He’d told her, in a general way, what had happened to the crew in Alexander Grant’s lab.

  “Yo
u did not deserve that, Sloan McCall,” she said. “You didn’t.”

  Thunder rumbled again, fainter now.

  “But I hear her, Caitie,” he said. “Calling in my mind. Calling me to come back and save her. And I tried. But I’m a snow leopard. My cat’s never been brave—he’s never been a brawler. Explosions terrify him. He wouldn’t come out, and so I had to run on two legs. I couldn’t get there in time. I keep seeing it, over and over…”

  “What do you see?” she whispered.

  “I see a shadow,” he said. “I can almost see what’s inside it, but I never quite do. And then her throat is cut and she’s dying, and there’s so much blood, and it’s all my fault…”

  His voice cracked and he couldn’t speak. He felt small, and pathetic, the broken wreck of a man that he’d told her he was. But then her arms were around him and her lips were on his, and he felt the warmth of her in the cold of his soul.

  Her kisses were like spring after a long, bitter winter. Heat rushed through him, bringing him fully awake and alive. He was bare-chested, wearing only the cut-off sweatpants he slept in, and just the feel of her bare arms on the skin of his back made him wild with desire.

  He knew she felt it too, this desperate need to be skin to skin, because she broke their kiss and pulled her t-shirt over her head, throwing it aside before pressing her naked breasts against him.

  God. He wanted to touch every part of her all at once. His dick swelled, rock-hard in an instant, as her thigh slipped between his legs. She rolled her hips against him, her hands on his chest and twining in his hair. The taste of her lips was more intoxicating than fine whiskey, her tongue meeting his in a rhythmic dance.

  “God, Caitlyn.” He rained kisses down her neck, listening to her tiny sounds of pleasure. He kissed her shoulder, tender skin underlaid with surprising strength. Her breasts were velvet-soft, round and weighty in his hands, and he kissed them one after the other, drawing the nipples into his mouth, sucking the hard nubs, licking the soft flesh around them.

  She pushed her hips against him, whimpering softly. He wanted to bury himself inside her, but one tiny corner of his mind reminded him she was a virgin, and he didn’t want her first time to be in a rush of heat and desperation.