“Look.” Beth pointed to the door of the toy shop and out walked that ginger kid whose mother always looked at her as if she stank of dog turd. He had so many freckles she could barely make out the colour of his skin, and she smiled to herself. Her little sister used to get freckles like that, especially in the summer.
Beth gave her a nudge. “He was looking at you through the window a second ago, and … yep! He’s heading this way! Looks like you’ve got a little admirer. Prefer tall, dark and exotic myself.”
Sarah slapped her on the arm. “Leave him alone. I think his name’s Billy.”
“Yeah, his mum’s a dragon. Have you met her? She gives me the evil eye every time I walk past her damn door.”
“Shhh! He’ll hear you!”
Billy, who had raced across the street between traffic, now walked into her boutique. His eyes landed on her and he suddenly seemed nervous. Red crept up his cheeks.
Beth nudged her again, but she ignored her and smiled brightly at the boy. “Hi! It’s Billy, isn’t it?”
He turned a brighter shade of red and nodded.
Beth scurried away, no doubt to hide the bubbling laughter that wanted to erupt from her.
“What can I do for you, Billy?”
He hurried towards her and thrust something into her hand.
When she saw what it was, inanely, her heart flipped and she all at once felt giddy. The porcelain unicorn was a beautiful piece, modelled perfectly, pinks and purples surrounding most of it, with its horn a brilliant white… But how in the world did he know that she—
“He said he wished he could stay,” he blurted out, “and to say goodbye.”
Beth, whose interest had peaked, spoke from behind the till. “Amil’s saying goodbye?”
“No, this isn’t from Amil.” And somehow, Sarah knew that with complete certainty. Amil didn’t know about her love of unicorns. Nobody did except her family. Even Beth didn’t know the extent to which she collected the little things. “Billy, who is this from?”
The boy shrugged. He did that a lot, she had noticed – must be some kid thing. “He didn’t give his name. Looked like he was gonna be sick, though,” he added, matter-of-factly. “Reckon he started on the whisky a bit too early this morning.”
A drunk? Why the hell would a drunk person give her a unicorn, and how would he know she liked them?
“Gotta go,” Billy said, then he pulled out a wad of change from his pocket, just shy of twenty pounds. “There’s a limited edition 50th Anniversary Spiderman comic waiting for me,” he beamed, before turning to rush out the door. But he stopped on the pavement and turned back. For the first time she’d seen, the boy actually looked sympathetic. “He really wanted you to have the unicorn. He looked kinda sad.”
He stuffed the cash back into his pocket and wandered off towards the comic store.
“Jesus Christ, Sarah. You sure know how to pick ‘em.”
Sarah glared at her friend. “Are you talking about Amil, the kid, or the mysterious drunk who knows I collect unicorns?”
Beth laughed. “All three! And I know you love unicorns, but I didn’t know you collected them. Since when, might I ask? I’ve known you for years. This could have saved me hours of searching for birthday and Christmas presents for you,” she teased.
“I’ve always collected them, I just…” She hesitated, unsure as to why a confounding sadness filled her. “I’ve never really talked about it.”
Something that felt like a memory tried to push its way into the front of her mind, but unsuccessfully, because no memory appeared. Nothing at all, except the strange feeling that she had talked about her unicorn addiction with … someone … “I, er … I put my collection away last year, some time before Christmas.”
Beth looked at her, puzzled. “Why?”
And honest to god, she felt as puzzled as her friend looked. “I don’t know. I just … I used to look at them and feel happy, and last year, I looked at them and felt sad.” She looked down at the little magical creature sitting in the palm of her hand. She felt sad now as she stared at it, but also, a strange kind of hope. She had shut her unicorns out of her life, and one had found its way back in. She didn’t know what that meant, but she knew it was important, somehow.
The bell above the door tinkled, and Amil walked into the shop, his imposing frame filling the entrance as his dark eyes found hers. They twinkled in greeting, and she swore she heard Beth swoon to her right.
For no good reason she could think of, she closed her hand around the unicorn and brought it behind her back so he wouldn’t see it. “Amil, hi,” she smiled. “I wasn’t expecting to see you until this evening.”
“Hello, beautiful,” he grinned, then didn’t waste a second taking her into his arms for a kiss.
Amil’s kisses were never just pecks of hello and goodbye; they were all-consuming, tongue-sweeping, lust-inducing acts that left her breathless and wanting more … except for right this second. The horn of the unicorn, pressed into her skin, and a horrible feeling she couldn’t quite name rested in the pit of her stomach.
She pulled out of the kiss, needing some space, and he looked at her, concerned. “Are you all right?”
“I’m certainly all right now,” threw in Beth, grinning from ear to ear as she soaked him in with her eyes. The woman was incorrigible, and as subtle as a sledgehammer, but that was why she loved her.
Sarah rolled her eyes at her long-time best friend, then turned back to Amil. “I’m fine. Just a little under-the-weather, I guess.”
“Attracting boys and drunkards,” chipped in Beth, and Sarah threw her the ‘shut up’ glare – not the ordinary shut-up glare, but the one that said, ‘I’m really fucking serious about the need for you to shut up’.
No one else would get it, but Beth, having known Sarah since they were sharing potties, did. She returned her glare with a confused one of her own, but at least kept her mouth shut.
“Drunkards?” he asked, an edge to his voice.
“No. I met no drunk people today. Beth’s just stirring.”
Beth aimed another smile at him. “Gotta keep that pot hot.”
“I see,” said Amil, then leaned in towards her again, but she slipped out from under him and whizzed around to the till, sticking the unicorn onto one of the shelves underneath it.
If he was upset by her brushing him off, he didn’t show it. “I have an errand to run down this way, so I thought I’d pop in and see you.”
She felt herself blush. Damn, she hated the way she couldn’t control it – had never been able to. She didn’t have the carrot-coloured hair her sister had – and her sister was bloody jealous about it – but her skin was still incredibly light, and she burnt to a crisp under the sun. The tiniest hint of blood to her cheeks and everyone saw it. “That’s sweet of you.”
Yes, Amil was sweet, and not for the first time, she wondered why exactly she hadn’t taken things further with him. Actually, she did know why, but it was not a logical explanation and she chided herself for it. It was because of the way she’d met him.
His car had broken down near her house and he’d asked to used her phone – not that strange in itself, except that whenever she thought about it, it sent chills down her spine and she kind of went all cold inside, almost as if she were on the verge of a panic attack that never quite happened.
Beth had stated in no uncertain terms that she was being ridiculous. “Look at him,” she’d said the first day Sarah had introduced them. “The man is a god and you have reservations? A god I tell you – nothing human can look that good.”
Yes, Beth had fallen into instant lust, and if she’d been anyone but her dearest friend, it would have annoyed her.
“Are we still on for tonight?” he asked. “I hear it’s a really good performance. The critics have all said Russell Maddox outdoes himself this time.”
“Yes, of course. It’s been ages since I last went to the theatre.”
“Great!” His smile widened, and she had to admit, he did look
like some kind of Adonis with his dark, wavy hair, almost black eyes, chiselled facial features and naturally tanned skin – he had mentioned something about his mother being Egyptian.
And then there was the hot bod, of which she’d only seen the top half. Her mind immediately wondered at the bottom half, and she ducked her head to hide another blush.
“It’ll be best if we take the motorway – Kent to Surrey on a Saturday afternoon isn’t too fun a journey. I’ll pick you up at five.”
“From my house?” Her shop was in Sevenoaks, but she lived in Westerham village. She’d planned to catch the bus back at lunch time to get ready, thanks to Beth’s willingness to take her shift so she could see her get laid – there were some perks to having such a blunt and frank friend.
“Yes, it’ll be a quicker journey from there.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then.” She gave him a little goodbye wave.
He leaned over the counter, clearly not letting her go that easily. His eyes darkened to the point where she could no longer make out his pupils. “A goodbye kiss?”
The way he said it sounded almost like a dare, and a shiver snaked its way up her spine from both want and … fear. She had to admit that something about him scared her, but it was nothing tangible. It was ingrained in his gait and presence. What she liked to admit even less, was that a part of her seemed to desire the fear he provoked. It was totally unlike her, and she had no idea what to do with that feeling – she’d never really been into the whole ‘bad boy’ thing – it just didn’t seem healthy. Although, Amil wasn’t really a bad boy, he was just—
He’s just bad.
She frowned. Where had that thought come from? He’d been nothing but the perfect boyfriend. Beth was right – she was making excuses not to be with him.
Still, it creeped her out that she liked the air of danger he carried. Why the hell would she want to be afraid?
Because you need to remember the last time you were terrified, came the reply in her head. Which made no sense. The last time she’d been terrified had been at the age of eight when she’d fallen off a ledge into the sea, unable to swim. She had ended up being rescued by a passer-by and given mouth-to-mouth. Other than a lot of ensuing guilt from her at her clumsiness, a lot of crying from her mother and an anxious trip to the hospital, there was nothing special about that incident.
Beth coughed, bringing her out of her thoughts, and walked away from the shop floor. “Don’t mind me,” she sang out behind her.
Amil nuzzled her ear. God, he was so tactile…
“How do you put up with her?” he asked.
Sarah laughed. “She has a good heart. I’ve known her since forever – she’d do anything for me, you know.”
He then jumped right over the counter using one hand as a lever, like some guy from a James Bond movie, and swooped her up so she was the one sitting on the laminated surface.
Sarah felt the heat rise to her cheeks again, this time from mild embarrassment. She wasn’t a small woman. Oh, she wasn’t fat – okay, well maybe by Hollywood standards she was – but she thought of herself as curvy. She had a definite hourglass shape and no one had ever lifted her that easily before as if she weighed nothing at all.
If she was being honest with herself, that made up a very small part of why she hadn’t slept with Amil yet. Men like him just didn’t look at women like her. Beth could tut at her and name it lack of self-confidence all she liked, but Sarah didn’t feel that was the case – in fact, she quite liked her figure – it was more that she was a realist. She’d known a few guys with great physiques before, and they got it by working out every single day and obsessing to the max about how they looked. In short, most of them were narcissistic arseholes, and they tended to share their beds with women who shared the same personality trait.
Admittedly, there was a chance she’d had the misfortune of only meeting the dickheads of the gym-obsessed gene pool and that perfectly wonderful, hot-bodied men did exist, because Amil seemed to be one of those.
He grabbed her hips, pulled her in tight against him, then went straight for her neck, his tongue sweeping along the side of it, making the kiss so much more sensual – too sensual.
“I’d do anything for you,” he growled out, passionately.
Oh, good lord! “Amil, I know, but … people can see us through the window.” She tugged at his sleeve, although there wasn’t much sleeve to tug – just shapely biceps that filled it.
Reluctantly, he pulled back, but his eyes were heated and she suddenly knew that tonight was going to be the night. She wouldn’t get away with any more excuses. She wondered if she looked like Sunday roast because, really, she’d only ever seen a man look that way at food.
Maybe my whole life I have only known dickheads…
On impulse she grasped the back of his neck and pulled him down for a kiss that matched his hunger. She would be an idiot to let him get away. He was everything any woman wanted, and he wanted her.
The delight in his eyes when the kiss ended spoke volumes. “Thank you,” he said.
Her heart melted. Ever since she first met him, she’d blown hot and cold for him, and he’d been nothing but patient. It was time to leave the cold behind.
She stroked his chest through his shirt. “I’m looking forward to tonight,” she smiled.
“Me too,” he replied, before placing a soft kiss on her forehead. “I’ll see you later.” Then, he turned and left.
A sigh reached her from behind, to her right, and Sarah turned to find Beth staring at her and shaking her head from side to side.
“What? What is it?”
“You have no good underwear, do you?”
Her jaw dropped open at the gall of the woman.
“You need to go underwear shopping now.”
She closed her mouth.
Damn.
She was right.
Chapter Three
Ryan had dropped Lydia off near Guildford High Street, half an hour ago.
She’d already made her first important stop to the drugstore, and she didn’t want to think about that brewing conversation because she knew she had her work cut out for her trying to convince Ryan that what she wanted from him – protection during sex – was reasonable and logical. She frowned as she thought about the packs of condoms in her rucksack. She’d picked ‘Mates’ to try and instil some humour into her pending request, but she doubted he’d see the funny. Werewolves were groomed by their families and packs to breed and keep their species alive.
She worried her lips with her teeth.
Whatever.
She was only twenty-five. She didn’t even have a career for fuck’s sake. Her big love throughout her childhood, from the age of three, had been dancing – a love shared by her mother – but that had come to an abrupt end after she’d died. Why, exactly, she wasn’t sure. It was as if she had taken the spirit of dance to the grave with her. Her father had become increasingly distant and her passion for the art had become drowned out by the loss of both her parents.
Waiting on tables sucked, but she didn’t know how to gain that passion back, or even if she was that good a dancer any more … it had been ten years…
Anyway, she hadn’t finished living her youth. She didn’t want a baby, or a puppy, or, god forbid, a litter of puppies.
Or babies.
Oh, god! A litter of BABIES!
Hmmm … is that physically possible?
Er, yes. Triplets? Quadruplets?
She grimaced.
Taylor had assured her that pregnancy was impossible during this transitional stage before her first full moon as a wolf. Something do with not ovulating and having out-of-whack hormones as the blueprint of her DNA remoulded itself. Still … she’d had a lot of sex with Ryan. A lot of sex. She felt uneasy about taking the risk, hence the condoms.
I really should try to read those biology text books Lawrence gave me…
Right now, however, she had another important task ahead of her. Scanning the
cars in the lot of the used-cars dealership, she prayed they had something decent for the little money she had, and even more so, that her new werewolf abilities wouldn’t let her down. She knew next to nothing about cars, but she did know when someone was lying – she could literally smell it. No matter how white the lie, their adrenaline shot up a fraction when they told it, and it was enough for her sensitive nose to pick up on the change of body odour, the dilation of their pupils, the almost imperceptible shift in their stance… Yeah, all she needed was a moustache and a Belgian accent.
“Can I help you?”
She turned to face the salesman. “I need a car for £600.”
He raised his eyebrows in surprise. The guy looked in his early fifties and wore a suit that seemed a size too small for him. “Well, I’m not sure we have anything for as little as that.”
Lie.
“Yes, you do.”
Again, his eyebrows went up. “Er—”
“Look, just show me what you have for up to £600 so I can pick. I’m in a hurry, and there are other dealerships I can go to.”
He coughed to clear his throat, but thankfully didn’t argue. Instead, he led her down the aisle towards the far end of the lot, but stopped before they got there. He absent-mindedly stroked his tie. “Nice to meet a lady who doesn’t beat around the bush,” he said, smiling at her again.
Lie.
She smiled sweetly back at him. “Something tells me you prefer us ladies more pliable.”
His neck went red at that.
There was a momentary pause as he struggled with how to reply, then he turned to his left. “Here we have a Ford Mondeo, 1998 reg, two previous owners with full service history.”
“What’s wrong with it?” she asked, looking at him rather than the car.
“Er … nothing. It’s in great condition.”
Lie.
She sighed. “Okay, next one?”
He frowned at her, clearly unable to figure her out. “We only have one more in your price range—”
Truth.
“Where is it?”
He led her a few yards further down the aisle, then gestured to her right. “Vauxhall Corsa. But it’s older, with more mileage than the Mondeo.”
Cry Of The Wolf (Eye Of The Storm) Page 3