“Um, I’m sorry for your loss?”
“And Trent Gregory Madison tickets.”
“Get the fuck out.” She showed him.
“Damn. Xander.” He started to get misty-eyed too.
She bounded down the steps, heading for the main cabin, where Flynn was making breakfast. “Don’t thank him!” Sloan yelled after her, and then she heard a muttered, “Fuck.”
She ignored him. She went straight into the cabin and grabbed Xander where he was sitting at the breakfast bar. She gave him a big, smacking kiss on the cheek.
Lissa almost dropped her coffee. Tank grunted in surprise.
“Thank you for the field mouse,” Caitlyn said. “I love it.”
Xander glowered. “I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”
“I’m going to stuff it and mount it, and name it Trent Gregory Madison.”
“You’re insane.” He dug into his bacon and eggs. “And FYI, you would have been better off with me. My dick is bigger than Sloan’s.”
“My dick is bigger than both of yours,” Flynn said, plopping down a plate in front of Caitlyn. “So are my claws. So can we stop smooching each other and eat our goddamn breakfast, so we can get some work done today? Because it would be fucking awesome if we did.”
Chapter 19
Asheville was about a four-hour drive from their territory, through the Appalachian mountains. Sloan was worried about thunderstorms at this time of year, but they drove over under a blue sky with mere wisps of clouds.
He felt himself breathing easier than he had in days.
“God, I’ve missed the mountains,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much. I miss the snow, too.” He’d already told her about being raised in the mountains of northern Vermont, on the edges of civilization.
“Do you ever think of going back?” Caitlyn asked. “Not to where you grew up, maybe, but somewhere else where there’s mountains?”
“I used to,” Sloan said. “When we were imprisoned in Alexander Grant’s cells, I used to dream about it.”
He trailed off. He didn’t want to think about those times. The stink of the cells, with the mingled scents of too many shifters in too small a space, laced with fear and blood and anger.
The things that had been done to them. The Professor and his guards had used fire hoses and cattle prods and knives and drugs—every possible way to break their spirits. And it had worked. He’d been one of the first to break, his cat hiding away, afraid to come out even when commanded.
They’d made him pay for that. Over and over.
“Sloan?” Caitlyn’s voice was soft, her hand gentle on his arm.
“I’m okay,” he said, giving her a quick smile. “They’d turn off all the lights at night, and we’d just lie there in the darkness listening to each other breathe and feeling the weight of all the earth and concrete overhead, pressing down on us.”
She stroked his arm soothingly.
“And I would escape into this dream. Mountaintops covered with snow, clean air, being on top of the world with nothing but blue sky above, and all the people and cities and horrors so far below I couldn’t even see them.”
His voice dropped to a murmur. “It was so real. The air was so crisp it almost took your breath away. I could feel the snow in my fur, and I’d just roll around in it and let it wash me clean.”
He grinned at a sudden thought. “It snowed last winter, right before Christmas. About eight inches. And I did it. Just plowed into the snow and rolled around like a cub, with my crew playing all around me. It felt so good.”
Caitlyn smiled at him. “I love snow,” she said. “I love flying when it’s snowing. How it’s so soft on my feathers, and it makes the whole world look different. Everything’s prettier in the snow.”
Sloan captured her hand in his. “Not you. You couldn’t be any prettier.”
She got the look he loved, like she was pleased and embarrassed at the same time. “Flatterer,” she said. “But do you really never want to go back where there’s snow? Where you can feel that freedom?”
He said slowly, “Sometimes I miss it. But I could never leave my crew. We’re part of each other.”
Caitlyn nodded. “Lissa told me about the crew bond. How it’s like the bond that a wolf pack has. It sounds… really special.” She looked off into the distance, sounding wistful. “Snowy owls don’t have that. We have rules and duty and hierarchies.” She sighed. “I never fit in there. I always wanted—more.”
Sloan played with her fingers, almost scared to ask her the next question. It was something they hadn’t talked about. Finally he asked, “Do your people believe in fated mates?”
Caitlyn was silent for a long time, and his heart sank. “Sort of,” she said finally. “But not for us. We—they—think of it like a primitive, animal thing.”
“Ouch,” Sloan said, only half-joking. Primitive? It wasn’t primitive, it was fucking magical. “No wonder spooks act so superior,” he said. “They really think they’re better than us.”
“Sorry,” Caitlyn said, looking embarrassed. “I don’t. But yeah. They kind of look down on non-avian shifters.”
He stroked her fingers with his, hope still hanging on in his heart. “What do you think? About the true mate bond, I mean?”
“Honestly?”
“Of course.”
She said slowly, “Lissa told me what it feels like for bears. I think it sounds… incredible.” Her face went soft. “To have someone devoted to you for life, to want nothing more than to take care of each other, protect each other and make each other happy.”
“It’s more than that,” Sloan said. “It’s magic. Real magic, like the crew bond. When Tank and Lissa bonded, it healed his broken bear and restored his Protector powers.”
Caitlyn said sadly, “I don’t know if I’m even capable of that. Maybe owls aren’t made that way.”
Sloan felt his heart thud. She didn’t feel it? What did she feel?
He said carefully, “I don’t know. Jaguars supposedly don’t have true mates, but Jasmin and Brody have the bond.”
“How do you know?”
Sloan grinned. “Brody Claimed Jaz in the middle of a battle. The two of them turned into some kind of mutant monster animals, and raised holy hell. It was crazy.”
Caitlyn winced. “That doesn’t sound very romantic.”
Sloan laughed. “It is for them.”
That made Caitlyn laugh too.
They came to the turnoff for a scenic overlook, and Sloan pulled the truck off the road and parked. Caitlyn could see for miles. The distant mountains looked misty blue, and the valley below them was green with new spring growth. Down below, she could see the ribbon of the highway and cars like tiny insects.
Sloan was gazing out into the distance. “You want to know what it feels like for me? The bond?”
She froze, giving him a startled look.
He put his hand to his chest. “It feels warm, in here. Like there’s a ball of fire in my chest. When we first made love, the first time I touched you—hell, the first time I saw you—I felt it ignite. And it’s never gone away.
“I didn’t realize what it was at first,” he said. “I was so broken, so messed up, it never even occurred to me I could have that. But all I wanted to do was hold you and protect you, and show you what an amazing person you are, how strong and brave. And wise.”
He ran his finger down the bridge of her nose, as if he were stroking her beak. She loved that.
She loved him.
“I wanted to learn all about you,” he said. “What makes you happy. What makes you sad. What you want, so I can go out and get it all for you and bring it back and lay it at your feet.”
Tears filled her eyes. She couldn’t speak, so she just slipped her arm through his and hugged her cheek to his bicep.
He went on, “But I can give you time to figure out what you feel. And if bonding isn’t part of your makeup, I don’t mind. You’re still it for me. You always will be.�
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He laid his cheek on her hair. “It would be… amazing… if you could feel the bond someday. Or even if you just fell in love with me. But if you can’t do that, I still want you in my life. I want whatever you can give me.”
Caitlyn felt her heart breaking in pieces. Sorrow and shame and joy all rose up in her at once. “I do love you,” she whispered. “I’m just scared. It all feels so big and important and terrifying.”
“I know,” he said. “But isn’t that how we know it’s real?”
The concert was everything Caitlyn had hoped it would be. As unresolved as things were for their future, it still felt like something had been settled between them at the overlook. They couldn’t stop touching each other, even if it was just a brush of fingers, a hand resting on the other’s thigh, shoulders touching as they sat together.
Caitlyn sat in the concert hall, her fingers twined with Sloan’s. The guitarist had a passion and emotion that went beyond his exquisite technique, and spoke directly to the soul. The parts of her heart that had opened up when Sloan told her how he felt filled with heat and light as they listened to the music.
She’d never seen Sloan look so happy.
But when they got out into the parking lot afterwards, she could hear thunder grumbling over the mountains to the west. They’d been planning to drive back that night, but there was no way Sloan could drive four hours through a thunderstorm.
Even if his ghost didn’t try to lead them off a cliff.
He stood, gazing off to the west, his whole body rigid. Caitlyn looked around. There was no sign of Kayisha, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t come. She always came with the thunder.
She slipped her hand into Sloan’s and tugged on it gently, getting his attention. “We probably shouldn’t drive through that,” she said, hoping he wasn’t going to do the male ego thing, pretending he was strong enough to handle anything.
He shook himself slightly, like his cat was shaking water off its fur. He mustered up a smile. “Probably not.” He turned to her. “Let’s get a hotel room,” he said. “A really expensive one.”
“Sloan, no!” she said. “Not expensive. A motel is fine.”
“Nope,” he said. “Expensive. Ridiculous. Lavish.”
Against her protests, he drove away from downtown to the Grove Park Inn and Spa, a famous hotel set halfway up the mountainside, overlooking the city.
The main section was over a hundred years old, with two giant wings that had been added later, spilling down the mountainside. Caitlyn gasped when they walked into the lobby.
It was part of the original building, a vast yet welcoming space with huge stone fireplaces at each end, almost big enough for her to walk into. One seemed to have an entire tree burning in it, the fire low due to the late hour. There were still some people scattered around, sitting at the bar tucked into a corner of the room, or lounging at tables and couches scattered cozily throughout.
At the back of the lobby were French doors leading to a covered stone porch that ran the width of the building, looking out over the valley. Caitlyn could see lights from the houses and cars below.
Sloan wouldn’t let her even see the price of the room. “Forget it,” he said, holding the receipt out of reach. “You’ll turn right around and go back outside, and sleep in the truck.”
“Find a Motel 6, you mean,” she muttered. “I can’t believe you’re doing this.”
The room was gorgeous, with a spectacular valley view—by far the nicest bedroom she’d ever slept in. “There’s a Jacuzzi tub in the bathroom,” Sloan said, a wicked glint in his eye. “I think your bad girl needs another lesson in wild leopard sex.”
Caitlyn snuck a glance out the windows. She could see stars; the storm seemed to be stalled on the other side of the mountains. No thunder, no lightning. She pulled off her top, showing Sloan the red lace bra she had on underneath. “Bring it on,” she said.
In the morning they had breakfast in the restaurant overlooking the valley, and then Sloan talked Caitlyn into having a beauty treatment at the ridiculously expensive spa attached to the hotel.
“It’s a ripoff,” she said. “They rub you with all kinds of overpriced products that are supposed to do miracles, and the next day, you’re your ordinary old self.”
He cocked his head. “How do you know?” he said. “Have you had a lot of spa treatments?”
“No,” she said. “My parents didn’t have the money for that, and there’s no way Jared would have shelled out for something so ridiculous, where they—”
Sloan said quietly, “Where they rub you with all kinds of overpriced products that are supposed to do miracles, and the next day, you’re your ordinary old self?” He paused. “He really did get in your head, didn’t he? Convincing you that you’re not worth cosseting or spending money on?”
She bit her lips. “It is overpriced,” she said.
Sloan grinned at her. “That’s what makes it fun. Come on. Pick a treatment.” He held the brochure out to her.
A glint of mischief lit up her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “But only if you’ll do it with me.”
He backed up a step. “Hey, now, wait a minute—”
She perused the brochure. “Look, they have all kinds of couples’ treatments. This one sounds good. Blue Ridge Mountain herbal wrap. Let’s see if they have an opening.”
Sloan put up with being wrapped up like a mummy in strange-smelling plant products, but halfway through the relaxation and detoxification period his leopard rebelled. He sat up, fighting his way out of the clingy strands like a cat stuck in a ball of Scotch tape.
Caitlyn couldn’t stop giggling.
“Fine, you think it’s funny,” he said, trying to sound severe. Epic fail. “This is not at all sexy.”
“We’re almost naked under the mummification,” Caitlyn pointed out. “That’s kind of sexy.”
“I can’t think about making love to you when I feel like the Creature from the Black Lagoon,” he complained. “It’s a surefire cure for a boner.”
Caitlyn just giggled harder. “Well, at least you can cross ‘fancy spa treatment’ off your bucket list,” she said.
“It wasn’t on there,” Sloan grumbled.
Caitlyn said, “But I feel spoiled and coddled and treasured because you wasted so much money on me. So there’s that. And there’s the added bonus that there is not going to be a single toxin left in my pores. I will be pure as the driven snow.”
Sloan gave her his best evil leer. “No way. You’ve been tainted and defiled by having Jacuzzi sex with a furry animal shifter. Your purity is long gone, missy.”
“I know,” Caitlyn said. “I can’t wait until we get home so you can taint me some more.”
Chapter 20
As they drove home, Sloan saw black clouds gathering over the western horizon.
Ah, hell. Not another thunderstorm. He’d managed to forget his fucked-up situation for a little while, but now all of it bore down on him like a boulder picking up speed down a mountainside.
Kayisha. The spooks. Korchak. The fact that Caitlyn’s visions told her he was still in danger.
There were forces at work here that neither of them could see. Something had brought his buried past into the light, and now all the worms were squirming around in the sun.
And some of them were poisonous.
They stopped at a rest stop halfway, and while Caitlyn was in the restroom, Sloan got out his burner phone and checked the website where he’d left the message for Korchak.
To his shock, there was a reply.
Dude. I thought they got you years ago.
Sloan would have been insulted, except he’d thought the same thing about Korchak. It looked like they’d both learned their spook lessons a little too well.
The message went on. Listen, you’re in trouble. Wherever you are, don’t stick your head out of the foxhole.
Too late for that.
There are people still after the package, but I can help you move it. We nee
d to meet, FTF. When and where?
Sloan frowned. Korchak thought Sloan had the artifact—which meant Korchak didn’t have it. Fuck. The wolf was eager to meet, though. That was good. Maybe Korchak knew what the hell was going on. With any luck, he could fill in the gaps in Sloan’s memory.
And in Caitlyn’s intel.
Sloan sucked on his lower lip, thinking. He wanted to do this ASAP, and he didn’t have the time to set up a really secure location. He didn’t want to drag the crew into it, or Caitlyn.
He told himself it was because they’d all been through enough, and they didn’t need to be involved in his shit.
But deep down inside, he knew he was afraid of what he’d find out. He was afraid he might really be as bad as the spooks said he was, and he just didn’t want to remember. Because if someone else had killed Kayisha, why the fuck wasn’t she off haunting them?
And if he had killed her, he didn’t want his crew or Caitlyn to know—especially Caitlyn. She believed in him; she looked at him with love and respect. He didn’t want to ruin that. Not until he had to.
He needed a meeting place he could control, where he knew all the entrances and exits. A place he could prepare—even set traps. A place that he knew would have no security, if he didn’t want it to.
He looked up and saw Caitlyn coming out of the restroom. Hurriedly, he punched in the address of the Bearcat shop, and a time and date. Then he shut the phone down and pulled the battery.
Just in case.
After their trip, Sloan got quiet and moody. Caitlyn tried to draw him out, but he was suddenly refusing to talk to her about anything important. Half the time he’d stick to her like glue, barely letting her out of his sight, constantly touching her as if reassuring himself she wasn’t going to vanish like a ghost.
And then he’d turn around and disappear for hours, and she’d be terrified she’d find him at the bottom of a cliff somewhere.
Then he’d come back, gentle and sweet and apologetic, and make love to her as if he were starving.
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