Crossroads of Bones (A Katie Bishop Novel Book 1)

by Luanne Bennett

  I looked over at his bike and spotted the bag on the seat. “Okay, then.” I changed my shoes and then grabbed my keys and followed him out the door. “Still not planning to tell me where we’re going?” He just grinned and handed me a helmet and the backpack.

  16

  We rode through town and headed for the expressway. I’d been on the back of a motorcycle before, but I’d never been on the back of a Harley. As cliché as it seemed, there was something about riding on the back of one with my arms wrapped tightly around the waist of a rebel like Jackson Hunter, that was both scary and liberating at the same time.

  The thick air turned into humid sea breeze as we drove over the Bull River and then coasted along the Savannah River toward Tybee Island. Around eleven-thirty, we rode toward the north tip of the island and I could see the Atlantic Ocean come into view in the distance straight ahead. In the six months I’d lived in Savannah I’d never made it out to the island, and I wondered what Jackson had planned for us this late on a Thursday night that required flip-flops and being outside. We were either having a late-night dinner at one of the oceanfront restaurants or going to the beach.

  We rode south and finally stopped and parked the bike. He kicked his shoes off and stripped from his jeans, revealing a pair of shorts underneath. Then we exchanged our shoes for flip-flops and stuffed our clothes in the backpack.

  “You’re not worried about leaving your Harley parked on a strange street?” I asked, thinking about that bike parked on the side of my house.

  He shook his head. “I know this neighborhood.”

  With the backpack swung over his shoulder we headed for the beach. I changed my mind about the flip-flops and carried them as we walked in the sand, the sound of the Atlantic filling my ears as the tide rolled gently under the bright moon.

  “I don’t know why I’ve never been out here before.”

  He glanced at me. “I don’t know either. Not many people have all this less than an hour from their front door. Seems almost criminal not to enjoy it.”

  “Guilty,” I sighed.

  We walked without a word for the next half mile or so, completely comfortable in the silence as the beauty of the shoreline and horizon superseded small talk. There was an ease about Jackson that I suspected was lost on most people. His facade was both ominous and fascinating at the same time, the textbook stereotype of a dangerous biker. But beyond his long black hair and imposing size, there was a thoughtful man in there, one who reminded me to bring flip-flops for the beach and knew when to shut up and let the awe of the ocean speak for us.

  We walked to a remote section of the beach. “Are we going to walk all the way around the island, or should we just dive in and swim to Florida?” I teased.

  He pointed ahead to a sand dune covered with sea grass. “We’re here.” Then he opened the backpack and pulled out a small blanket, spreading it over an area at the foot of the dune. “Have a seat.” I planted myself on the blanket and watched him curiously as he pulled out a couple of plastic cups and a thermos. “You like red, right?”

  “Wine?” I asked. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

  He grinned, and I remembered the row of red wine bottles on my kitchen counter. He must have noticed them when he helped himself to a second bottle of beer from my refrigerator the night before. “Consider this my version of box-o-wine.” He unscrewed the thermos and poured the wine into our cups. “Glass in a backpack is a recipe for disaster.”

  “I have to come clean, Jackson. I didn’t think you were capable of something so original. This, I mean.” I motioned around the beach. “I thought we’d end up at one of those restaurants we passed on the way in. This is so much better.”

  He checked the time on his phone. “Then you’re really gonna like what you see in about . . . ten minutes.”

  My eyes widened as I realized our beach blanket and wine was just the precursor to what he had planned for us. “What?”

  “Patience, woman.” He leaned back on his elbows and gazed out at the water.

  Fifteen minutes ticked by as we lay on the dune staring up into the bright sky. He sat up and looked at the beach. “It’s started, Katie.”

  I followed his eyes. Half a dozen yards away under the bright beam of the moon, the ground was moving. A scattered group of small creatures was traveling across the beach toward the ocean. I leaned closer and saw them emerging from under the sand.

  “Turtles!” I gasped. “They’re hatching!”

  I must have been beaming when I looked at him, because he grinned back at me and laughed. “Loggerheads. It’s nesting season.”

  My heart actually pounded from the surge of gratitude I felt to be witnessing something so amazing. “I can’t believe you did this for me. I . . . don’t even know what to say.”

  He leaned back on the blanket again. “Yeah, well, you haven’t seen the best part yet.”

  I’d seen the stories on the news and in the papers about the Tybee Marine Science Center’s conservation program to help the population of loggerheads, but the nests were usually marked to warn people of them. The little guys breaking through the sand a few yards away from us had no such marker around their nest.

  “Hold on, Jackson.” I cocked my head at him. “How did you know where the nest was? I’m even more curious about how you knew they would be hatching at exactly this time. You psychic or something?” The or something part had me anxious.

  “Yeah, I’m a real mystery man.” He motioned back to the beach. “You’re missing the finale.”

  The dozen or so hatchlings had turned into hundreds, racing with their tiny flippers to make it to the water before the sun came up or predators got hold of them. Something moved in the middle of the brigade. I started to jump up as a flock of sea birds appeared on the beach in the soup of hatchlings and sand, seeming to pick them up and fly away. Jackson caught my arm and pull me back down.

  “They’re eating the turtles!” I yelled, trying to pull away from his grip so I could charge onto the beach to chase off the hungry birds.

  He shook his head. “Look closer.”

  I focused on the commotion on the beach, not quite believing what I was seeing. The tiny loggerheads weren’t being eaten by the birds—they were turning into birds and flying out to sea. One by one the little hatchings sprouted wings and lifted off the sand and glided past the moon into the distance.

  “Sea shifters,” he said before I could ask the question. “They shift into sea birds to make it out to sea. They’ll shift back into loggerheads once they land out there. Ordinary hatchlings are lucky to make it to the water or even past the shallows without getting eaten. But these little guys aren’t ordinary. They come back to this same spot to lay their eggs, and they’ll hatch on the night of the full moon at right around this time every month during nesting season. Like clockwork. They’re fascinating creatures, Katie.” A grin spread across his face as he continued to gaze at the water. “Just like you.”

  “How’d you find this place?” From what he’d told me he wasn’t a shifter himself, and I hadn’t picked up any evidence that he was lying to me about that.

  “Kara brought me here a few years back.”

  “Kaleb’s daughter?” I asked, surprised that they’d shared such an intimate secret. The same secret that he was now sharing with me. “I thought she was just some casual hookup.”

  He glanced at me with a slight admonishing look. “I never said that. You just assumed.” And he was right. I just assumed that since he and his best friend both slept with her that she was just another conquest.

  “Mmm, I see. So you’re just passing this little treasure on to me, now.”

  His smile faded as he looked toward the last sea shifter disappearing toward the safety of the deep ocean. “Well, I guess if you want to think about it like that. A gift is a gift, Katie. The less people that know about this place the better, but I thought you’d like to see it. You’re the only person I’ve ever shown it to.”

  I’d managed
to offend him. I could see it in his profile as he continued to stare off and look at anything but me. “That came out wrong,” I said. “I just meant—”

  “Do you know why I wouldn’t let you work on my arm the first day I walked into your shop?” he asked, saving me from saying something else obscurely offensive.

  “Because you’re a chauvinistic ass?” I joked.

  He laughed quietly and gazed out over the water again. “Because you nearly knocked me off my feet with those eyes of yours.” He turned to look at me and I felt the stir in my stomach grow into a hurricane. “You scared the shit out of me, and I don’t scare easy.”

  My mouth was stuck. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. When I finally regained my mind, I said something less than poetic. “Then why do I feel like every time you look at me you want to get as far away as possible? Like I’m contagious.”

  “Because you are contagious and I do want to stay clear of you. You’re the last thing I need right now, Katie.” He leaned closer and paralyzed me with those unsettling green eyes and that sonorous voice. “You’re also exactly what I need right now.”

  Before I could speak he kissed me. A soft, lingering kiss that turned me inside out and left me boneless and weak. Then he moved me back against the sand and rolled his significant weight over me, blocking the brightness of the moon. But he remained perfectly still, hovering inches from my face, the smell of his skin mingling with the salty breeze coming off the water. A second later he was on his feet and pulling me off the sand, gathering the empty cups and the blanket. Then we headed back up the beach, hand in hand, wordless again as we let the sea fill our senses.

  When we got back to the bike, I climbed on behind him and rested my face against his back as we made the thirty-minute ride back to my house to explore all the reasons why we were perfect for each other.

  Jackson sat his empty wine glass on the kitchen counter and took a steady breath before turning to look at me. “Just say the word, Katie, and I’ll leave.” Looking back at his beautiful green eyes, I knew where the night would end. My limbs were already warming up, and I felt that familiar quickening of my breath as Jackson touched the side of my face with his lips. It was a soft brush, followed by the barest flick of his tongue that nearly knocked the wind out of me.

  “Jackson,” I whispered, fighting the urge to let go. It had been so long since I’d been able to completely lose myself in a man. “I don’t want to ruin this. Maybe it’s too soon for—”

  “Too soon for what, Katie?” He worked his mouth up to my temple and across my eyelids, sending a ripple of heat all the way down to my toes as he ended his journey at my mouth. “We’re just kissing,” he murmured against my parted lips.

  I stepped back and took a deep breath, debating the sanity of getting wrapped up in a guy while I was in the throes of hunting evil spirits and trying to keep a business afloat. Juggling all the loin-driven emotions that went hand in hand with infatuation meant one of those endeavors would suffer. He settled the debate by pulling me back against him and kissing me deeply.

  A moment later we were in the bedroom, me discarding my clothes while he paused near the door and seemed to be considering my earlier comment. I climbed on the bed and shook my head, making it unmistakably clear that he needed to forget what I’d said. I wanted him.

  His eyes heated as he read mine, and his lips parted as if a thought were edged at the tip of his tongue. “Fuck it,” he hissed. He pulled his own shirt over his head and released the zipper of his jeans, sliding them off with his shorts to reveal his impressive size that was in direct proportion to his impressive height. Stepping out of them, he climbed over me, caging me as his black hair fell over my face and cascaded against my breasts like water. He smelled like wine and sea, kissing me fully before working his way down my breasts and stomach, past my hips. I thought I’d disappear into the sensation of his hands and mouth and . . . that voice. He murmured something deep, sending a warm rush of breath over the sensitive skin between my legs.

  “Jackson, please.” I reached for him and he slid his palms up my thighs and hips and gripped my hands tightly, forcing my arms to my sides to hold me in place while he sent a wave of pleasure through me, the small of my back arching off the mattress. The moment I settled back down he raised up and slid inside of me, gripping my waist to pull me closer and allow him to go deeper, barely interrupting the wave that was ready to send me over the edge again.

  A powerful urge kicked in and I rolled on top of him, mounting him and riding out the climax until the lines on my back fought to break free. My eyes burned with heat as I gazed down at him, fighting the overwhelming drive to grind into him harder. Suddenly his own eyes changed, the brightness in them growing darker as I moved back and forth against him. My hands reached for his, pushing his arms above his head to pin him against the mattress, but all I could see were the talons beginning to protrude from the tips of my fingers and the glittering scales covering my arms. My jaws tightened from my growing fangs, and every inch of my body shivered from the beast exploding from within.

  Jackson’s eyes were fixed in fascination, caught somewhere between the intense pleasure and the pain of my claws piercing the tough skin of his palms. A thin line of blood seeped from the point where the tip broke through the surface of his right hand.

  As quickly as the animal-like drive consumed me, the air left my lungs and my pleasure turned to fear. I rolled off him and sat at the foot of the bed, horrified. Glaring at my traitorous hands in disgust, I watched the scales return to skin and felt my fangs recede as I ran my tongue over the disappearing tips.

  “Katie?” He straddled me from behind and pulled me against him. “Did I do something wrong?”

  I turned and looked at him in disbelief. “Jesus, Jackson. I could have fucking killed you.”

  He tensed for a moment and then moved to the edge of the mattress to sit next to me, his hand running along the lines of the beast as it settled against the skin of my back. “It’s okay to shift, Katie. This isn’t my first rodeo.” He laughed quietly. “I’ve got a little experience with chicks like you.”

  He was referring to Kara. I still didn’t know what a Sapanth was, but I suspected they had claws, too. “You never told me exactly what Kara is.”

  “Sapanths are cats. Big cats,” he added with an arched brow. “Sex tends to trigger a shift. At least it does with cats.”

  “Yeah, well, I’ve managed to control it from doing that. Until now.” It wasn’t easy in the beginning, but I’d gotten good at keeping the beast quiet during intimate moments. At least with ordinary men. The last guy who met my dragon during sex wasn’t human. God, I missed what that felt like.

  Jackson laughed again. “What’s so funny?” I asked.

  “Maybe I should have qualified that comment,” he replied. “Good sex triggers a shift. I think we’re gonna have to get used to a little threesome with that beast of yours.”

  “Confident, aren’t you?” When I glanced back up at him, his eyes were getting that look again. And by the way I was reacting to that look, so were mine.

  “You can’t hurt me, Katie.” Maybe he was right. I suspected there were things about Mr. Hunter that were yet to be discovered. Then he kissed me, pushing me back against the bed so we could finish what we started.

  I bolted straight up in bed and gasped for air, looking at my outstretched arms to see if I had wings. I was a sea shifter, flapping my wings under the weight of the water as I torpedoed toward the bottom of the ocean to get away from something.

  Jackson’s hand found the small of my back as he lay against the bed with his other hand resting between his head and the pillow. “You okay?”

  I wiped a bead of sweat from my forehead. “Yeah. Bad dream.” I left it at that, but it was more like a nightmare. I was flying over the ocean toward something that kept pulling at me. It was the moon, covered with an elaborate series of twisting lines that kept undulating and breathing. But the moment I realized what those
lines were, I dove toward the waves. The moon was wrapped with a giant tattoo.

  By the amount of light coming into the room, I estimated it to be around eight a.m. I flopped back down next to him, feeling a little uneasy about what we’d done a few hours earlier, mainly because it had felt so raw, so intimate. I barely knew him and here he was, shattering me to the point of uncontrollable bliss.

  I hopped off the bed and grabbed the robe hanging on the back of my bedroom door. “I have to make a call. I’ll be right back.”

  Instead of calling Sea Bass directly, I went into the kitchen and called the shop. It was at least half an hour before anyone would be there, which I’d anticipated. I left a message on the answering machine saying I wasn’t feeling well and was staying home. None of them would believe the lie, but one of the perks of being the boss was that it didn’t matter if I said I was sick or just taking the day off. All I knew was that I wasn’t going anywhere near the shop after having just woken from another dream about a giant breathing tattoo. I’d just stay out of the line of fire for the next twelve hours until that dinner party at Lillian Whitman’s house.

  I was about to dial Fin’s number to warn him about my latest dream when something moved behind me. Jackson was leaning against the hallway wall, naked. Everything about him was impressive, and if he didn’t put some pants on, crisis or not, I was never getting him out of my house.

  I cleared my throat and pulled my eyes away from his distracting features, turning to the cabinet to grab the bag of coffee. “Breakfast?”

  He hooked me around the waist and pressed my back into the refrigerator door, leaning in and reminding me of just how small my five-foot-eight frame was against his. “I don’t eat breakfast,” he said in a rough voice.

  “Didn’t your mama raise you right?” I countered, trying to sound witty when all I wanted to do was melt into him. His hand ran under my robe and settled at the dimple of my back, pulling me into him. “Let me go,” I whispered.