Mine to Claim (Shadow Shifters: Damaged Hearts)

by Arthur, A. C.

  There was shouting, cursing, girls screeching as if they were being personally attacked. The bartender had taken cover and the DJ had probably followed suit.

  “Get that sonofabitch!” I heard someone yell and figured without much thought they were referring to me.

  There were two ways this could go—bad and worse. I opted for bad, punching my way through the crowd steadily moving toward the back exit. Kicking through that door I burst into the alley, breaking into a run as soon as I heard the police sirens.

  People poured out of the bar behind me, I could hear the patter of their feet on the cement. Everybody headed to their cars or as far away from the bar as they could manage. I moved steadily, turning down a side street where I’d parked my bike. Once I was close I slowed my trek, reaching into my pocket for my keys. I’d just lifted my leg and settled on the seat, was about to put the key in the ignition and take off when something stopped me.

  “Wait!”

  It was her voice. It sounded both foreign and familiar and captured my attention immediately. My head lifted slowly until our gazes met and held.

  “Wait!” she repeated, running up to my bike.

  Her hair had come loose from the clip that had been holding it in place, wispy brown strands flapping in her face as the evening breeze blew around them. Her cheeks were slightly red, her glossed lips parted as her breath came in quick heaves.

  “What?” was my distant, yet curious reply.

  “Um, I want to say thank you,” she responded, hands in front of her nervously clasping her purse.

  Once more it seemed to be only the two of us. The sounds from the sirens and people running dimming as she stood closer, her eyes assessing, searching for something. From me. I had nothing to give, nothing to share, and no intention of sitting here trying to figure it out.

  “You’re welcome,” I said tightly, kicking up the stand and sticking the key into the ignition.

  “I don’t know who they were and I didn’t ask them to come over. They just sort of showed up even though I told him I wasn’t interested. Told him more than once as a matter of fact.”

  She babbled. It should have been annoying, instead the sound of her voice rubbed sensually against the already edgy nerves in my body. I wanted to hear more, didn’t really give a damn what she was saying as long as her voice continued to soothe something deep inside me. Firming my lips and sighing inwardly, I looked at her, praying my expression screamed get away because I wasn’t sure my mouth would manage the words.

  “Anyway I’m, ah, glad you showed up,” she finished, biting her bottom lip, continuing to watch me.

  My body tightened everywhere at the sight of her tongue touching her lip, then even her teeth as they scraped along the plump skin. I swallowed. Hard.

  The sound of sirens thankfully permeated the space, red and blue flashing lights appearing in my peripheral.

  “You should get out of here,” I told her.

  She didn’t move.

  The sirens and the lights grew closer and I cursed.

  “Get on!”

  She didn’t move immediately and I held out a hand to her. “Get on or get caught. Your choice.”

  One more second of hesitation and she was taking my hand, using it to leverage herself as she climbed on the bike behind me. I ignored the first sting of sensation that ripped through my arm like an electric shock. But when she was seated behind me, arms wrapping around my waist holding tight, I thought I would spontaneously combust right at that moment. With that thought I revved the engine and sped off, weaving through the three police cars that had turned down the street coming toward me.

  The street was a dead end and it took a moment for one of the cars to turn around in order to pursue me. It was futile since I was on a bike and could easily jump the curb—which I did. Two blocks down there were two buildings with an atrium between them, I cut in there, driving through what might have been a scenic little area complete with a fountain and benches for comfort. The paved walkways were just wide enough for my bike to fit through the buildings, coming out on another street completely out of sight of the officers.

  I continued to drive because I didn’t have a lot of other choices. I didn’t want her on my bike, with me, didn’t want the feel of her soft thighs rubbing against mine, or the luscious curves of her breasts pressing into my back. Her breath was on the back of my neck, warm, clashing with the cool breeze. I punched the gas, leaned into the next turn, and tried to tune all that physical BS out.

  She shivered and held on tighter as we traveled down the main road of the city. Minutes later office buildings and those frilly little specialty stores disappeared from view. The paved road with cars parked intermittently on the side stretched forward into just road. No streetlights, just signs advising I was heading out of Alexandria and into No-Man’s Land, which is what I liked to call the small town of Victory, Virginia where Victory Gale University was located. The brochure boasted a grand two thousand and fifteen person residency. In the year I’d been here I’d recounted that number at around seven hundred because all you ever saw were the students at the school. And for as prestigious as the school was touted to be, its enrollment appeared to be way down.

  Still, it served its purpose, which was to allow me the solitude to gain the last nine credits needed for my technology degree. By the end of this semester I’d be packing my things and heading out to find a job—a real job in the real world, which just happened to be against everything I’d been taught growing up.

  “I live in Marsden Hall,” she yelled into my ear. “It’s on the university campus.”

  This time I didn’t startle at her voice, didn’t give any indication that the sound felt like soft fingers running up and down my spine. “I know where it is,” I replied instead.

  She didn’t speak again and neither did I. In fact, I think I may have broken a few speed records in my hurry to get her home and off my bike. However, when we pulled up in front of the six-story building with its redbrick walls and out-of-date windows, neither of us moved.

  “Here you go,” I said over my shoulder to move her along.

  Her arms remained around my waist, her palms plastered to my stomach.

  “You aren’t cold?” she asked in a quiet voice. “You’re not wearing a jacket but you’re not shivering either. I can’t stop shivering.”

  Her teeth did a little chatter on the last word and my body temperature raced upward just a little more. I was sensitive to everything she said, every touch, every scent and my hands gripped the handles of the bike.

  “I’m hot-blooded, so sue me,” I quipped, then cleared my throat as a hurry-up-and-get-going type of command.

  Her arms moved, hands gliding over my stomach, that bit of warmth moving back with her motions feeling as if she were taking my skin with her as she went. I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes, waiting, hoping this would be over soon. It had to be, for both our sakes.

  She moved in extra slow motion, every step like it was costing her something, when actually it was me who was dying here. When she’d finally climbed off the bike she didn’t run up the steps into the building slamming the door closed without even looking back—which was precisely what I wanted her to do. No, instead, she stood there, holding that stupid purse in front of her again as if it were some kind of safety net, looking at me with those soft brown eyes that were the same color as the sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of her nose, and which were identical to the light color of her hair.

  “I’ve never ridden on a motorcycle before,” she told me. “I think I liked it.”

  Keep looking straight, don’t say a word. The words sounded like a good plan as they echoed in my mind, they sounded smart and I’d always been the smart Sanchez brother. Until tonight, I guess.

  Turning my head slowly, I looked at her. Saw the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the soft curve of her breasts in a dress that did nothing to hide her ample assets. She wasn’t very tall, but her legs were strong,
like she was no stranger to walking or maybe even running. It was her face that wreaked the most havoc, the purely innocent look she was giving me that was haloed by this smoldering aura that called to a very primal part of my being.

  “Glad you enjoyed the ride. Sorry about what happened at the bar,” I said in all honesty.

  “I just wanted to have some fun tonight,” was her next admission and I almost frowned. She had no idea what type of “fun” she’d been about to get into with those jerks at the bar.

  I shook my head because I didn’t want to sound like a scolding father, but I did want her to understand the consequences of her actions. “You need to be real careful about what type of fun you’re out to have. That dress, those shoes, they kind of signal that you’re game for anything. And those guys at the bar caught that signal loud and clear.”

  Her brow furrowed, lips clamping shut in anger.

  “I told him I wasn’t interested. I told him to go away,” she insisted.

  I shrugged even though I’d been beyond pissed at the sight of that drunken loser putting his hands on her. “Don’t doubt that you did, but you’ve got to be more careful about the signals you’re putting out so as not to attract the wrong element.” Like me, I wanted to say. “Look, you’re home safe now. Go inside and sleep this off, things will be fine in the morning.” Or at least I hoped so.

  She nodded in agreement at that point and took a step back like she was ready to leave, thankfully.

  Then she paused once more and the corner of her mouth lifted in a small smile that reached right inside my chest in search of something I knew I didn’t have to give.

  “The bike ride was fun. Thanks for that,” she added before turning away and walking toward the steps.

  If she was purposely trying to torture me she was doing a damned good job. My eyes did their own thing, following the sway of her ass as she walked in those heels, the tightness of her calves. Then nature kicked in and a breeze brought her scent front and center to my nostrils until I almost choked on its sweetness.

  “My name’s Grace,” she said over her shoulder just as she was about to walk through the double doors of the dorm. She waited expectantly and I grit my teeth reluctantly.

  “Nice to meet you, Grace. I’m Aidan.” That was more than enough information and more than enough time spent in her company. I wasn’t going to remain the guy that had given her the fun ride on the bike much longer and would rather she not witness that in light of everything else she’d gone through tonight.

  So I revved up the engine and pulled off, leaving the sweet scent and innocent look of Grace behind, for good.

  CHAPTER 3

  Grace

  This was the first time today that Scarlett had let me out of her sight. I was breathing a huge sigh of relief at that fact because having her over my shoulder every second of the weekend had been as tedious as living with my parents.

  “I just want to make sure you’re okay,” she’d said last night after we’d had a mediocre cafeteria meal and were walking back to our dorm.

  “I’m fine. I’ve told you that a million times.”

  “I should have stayed with you,” she’d admitted again.

  This conversation had been going on since Friday night, or I should say the wee hours of Saturday morning when Scarlett had burst into our room grabbing me up in a bear hug designed to choke instead of soothe.

  “I shouldn’t have made you dress up and go there. And then I insisted you have a drink to relax and to have fun. I all but pushed you into Chris the Creep’s arms. I still cannot believe he tried to attack you right there at the bar, the asshole!” Scarlett was a very visual talker, meaning her hands worked as hard as her mouth to convey her message. When she’d called Chris an asshole she’d used balled fists to swing in the air as if Chris were standing right there in front of her.

  I chuckled because the thought of Scarlett with her long painted nails and even longer fake eyelashes physically fighting anyone was just funny to me.

  “I’m a big girl, Scarlett. I can handle myself. I should have had my Mace so I could have blinded his dumbass though. But then my guardian angel appeared.”

  Scarlett stopped, grabbing my arm as she did. “Whoa, Aidan Sanchez is not a guardian angel. He’s an older recluse that probably had the same ideas in his mind about you that Chris did.”

  This was another part of the previous night’s conversation that I didn’t want to endure again. Aidan was nothing like Chris, I could tell by the way he looked at me and talked to me. I’d said as much to Scarlett already but she was hell-bent on convincing me otherwise. Which could actually be the story of my life—everybody telling me what to do, who to talk to, who to like. I was beyond sick of that crap and not appreciating how Scarlett’s reaction was pushing me down memory lane.

  “He’s bad news too, so stay away from him,” she finished.

  “He’s bad news that rescued me from Chris and his friend at the bar, then again from the cops that were combing the streets looking for whoever had started the bar fight,” I quipped, then clamped my mouth shut because the last thing I wanted to do was argue with Scarlett. She was the only friend I had in Victory and I wasn’t so sure that messing that friendship up for a guy who’d given me a ride on his bike then disappeared into the night was such a good idea. No matter how deep and sexy his voice was.

  “He’s old, Gracie. Should have finished college years ago. Plus, he just showed up here at the beginning of the semester out of nowhere. Nobody knows anything about him because he doesn’t talk to anyone, like some kind of hermit. All he does is ride around town on that bike of his, glaring at everybody behind those dark-ass glasses like he knows something we don’t. He’s creepy.”

  Aidan hadn’t been wearing dark glasses Friday night. I’d seen his eyes, which were admittedly dark and sort of soulless, but it had been dark in the bar and then again outside, so I could be mistaken. That didn’t necessarily make him a bad person. Plus if he was so bad why had he saved me at all? Why not just let Chris do what he wanted with me—although I’d already been thinking of how loud I could scream and how hard I could kick him in the balls to keep anything else from happening between us. I wasn’t totally helpless even though people often looked at me that way. And I’d had some experience fighting off unwanted advances, just ask Rory Athens back home. The ridicule and accusations that had followed after that incident had been what pushed me to come to school as far away from home as possible, as far away from the memories as I could legally run. I kind of liked that this episode had ended differently.

  “Lots of new kids came to town at the start of the semester, Scarlett. I was one of them. That doesn’t make me some crazed serial killer. I just don’t think Aidan’s that bad. He dropped me off and went on his way without once trying anything,” I said in Aidan’s defense and as a way to stop thinking about the past. “It’s over, Scarlett. Can we just drop it now?”

  She’d wrapped her arm through mine as we took the stairs to our dorm.

  “Okay, we’ll drop it, but I am very sorry for leaving you and that this happened to you. I’m the older one, I’m supposed to be looking out for you here.”

  “You’re doing a great job,” I told her, really meaning it because if she’d never dragged me to that bar, I would never have met Aidan.

  And I was feeling pretty good about meeting Aidan.

  At least I had been yesterday when the thought of combing the campus for a glimpse of him had been a glowing possibility. Now, at almost five o’clock I hadn’t seen him at all. That wasn’t a huge surprise since until Friday night I’d never seen him and apparently he’d been a student here all semester. I wondered what type of classes he took, what he wanted to achieve by going to school, what he planned to become, and who he planned to spend the rest of his life with.

  Now that was lame and so totally like the old Grace I wanted to scream. All through high school I’d been looking for the love of my life. My parents had met in high school, follow
ed each other to college, and married two weeks after they’d graduated. They’d never loved anyone else, never doubted they were meant to be together. Considering genetics and all that, I figured I’d be the same way. Meet a guy, fall in love, spend the rest of my life with him, no questions asked. Then I’d met Rory and I was sure all the pieces to my life were falling into place. But he was a jerk, a gorgeous, popular jerk and so were his friends—the ones I thought were also mine. All of them sucked big-time and I was so glad to have found that out before it was too late. But finding that out had punched a gaping hole in what was my reality.

  College was my new start. It was the place where I’d come to study biology, which had always been my favorite subject, and to figure out who I was and what I really wanted out of life. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be married forever, having kids and doing whatever it took to support my husband. Maybe I was destined for something more.

  I chuckled at that thought as I turned the next corner. We were reading the illustrious works of Jane Austen in English class so my mind was whirling around themes such as freedom in modern societies and at the same time bittersweet romance that pinched at the heart. What I wasn’t doing was paying attention to where I was walking and thus, what or who I was about to bump right into.

  The collision was of the mild sort, if ramming my face into a muscled chest, bouncing back in horror, then dropping my book bag and purse and the cup of hot chocolate I’d just purchased from the campus version of Starbucks, and landing flat on my butt only to stare up in great mortification at Aidan Sanchez, could be classified as mild in any way.