“Don’t worry, Pete. I’ll fix her little red wagon.”
“Kaylie.” Pete held up a hand to forestall Kaylie’s interruption. “No, I won’t bet you. Just …be careful.”
Kaylie nodded once and then wedged on her “special” protective headgear. As she reached for a bat her shoulder screamed in protest. Her jaw clenched in determination. This time she was going to show the slut what Kaylie Gentry was made of.
When she stepped out of the dugout, cheers and stomping feet filled the evening air, her mom’s voice the loudest of all. A small smile curled her lips, boosting her resolve. She took up her position at home plate and made several practice swings. Then she looked up at the pitcher, giving glare back for glare. The pitch came at her, and Kaylie jumped back from the plate, dodging yet another near-body hit. The crowd booed, and the slut’s mouth tightened in irritation.
That’s it, Kaylie steamed, her temper flaring white-hot as she instantly decided her next course of action and declined the walk, wanting another swing instead. The Togan’s pitcher had been consistent in hitting her body so Kaylie would use that knowledge to adjust her stance. With any luck, the ball would fly right back at the slut pitcher, only with much more velocity.
She curled her fingers around the bat and moved into position. Just as the pitcher raised her arm to throw the ball, Kaylie eased back a foot. Too late for the slut to adjust her aim. The ball flew through the air, at what would have been Kaylie’s ribcage if she’d stayed in place. Kaylie swung, connecting hard. Ignoring the painful vibrations that swept up her arm, she ran hell for leather for first base. With dark satisfaction Kaylie noted that the ball had kicked right back at the outraged pitcher, slamming into the other woman’s vulnerable stomach before it bounced onto the ground.
Exuberant, Kaylie’s feet flew over the dirt and crossed the white plate, but before she could rejoice something hard cracked with a sickening sound against her head and she found herself soaring through the air. Her last sight was of the green grass meeting her face before darkness took over.
* * * *
Dean hadn’t planned on attending the game, had in fact headed straight for Moon Haven. There he’d sat at his desk, staring blindly at his computer screen. Then he’d paced, from door to window and back again, seeing nothing but Kaylie’s beautiful face, so full of hurt, and her words, so full of cutting anger.
Fucking Peter Everett. Dean’s fist shot out and landed with a crunching pop of flesh, bone and wood as it connected with the door. Dean pulled his hand back and stared at the gaping hole and then at his bruised hand. “Fuck.” There went another door. It was a damn good thing he’d bought the local lumber company.
Scrubbing his hands over his face, he turned and slid down to the floor. His temper was just one more reason why he couldn’t allow himself to touch Kaylie, to claim her as his mate. Every time he saw her, his resolve began to crumble, and control was all he had left. He’d die if he ever hurt her. Logic dictated he should escape temptation, but his wolf thrashed in agony at that logic. But to keep her safe, and himself sane, he really should leave. The town, Kaylie, and the pack he’d come to care for.
Dean looked around his office, his sanctuary within the sanctuary. He’d head home, back up some of his things, and leave tonight. Leaving was something he’d come to excel at before arriving at Woodcliff. It should be easy to pick back up again.
But his heart felt like a lead weight in his chest; his wolf snipped and snarled in wild fury, as if battling for dominance to force the man to remain. Several minutes passed before Dean could force himself to his feet. Then he turned around and left without a backward glance.
The insistent tug became too powerful to ignore. He passed the dirt road that led to the small apartment over his bar and headed into town. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he pointed his truck toward the school. If he was going to rip his soul out, he might as well do it completely. No use doing anything half-assed.
He parked at the far end of the lot, and then made his way silently through the woods, rounding the school to come upon the baseball diamond unseen. He remained a good hundred yards back, behind the perimeter fence that separated the woods from the school grounds.
Everyone was so avid, cheering Kaylie and her team on, egging the Togans, and basically enjoying the thrill of being alive. He spied Caleb and Tess, arms linked in open affection, and a flare of envy burned hard and bright in his gut. While he might believe he didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, a piece of his soul craved it. Not for just the acceptance he’d received at Woodcliff from both the human and shifter populace, but for the unconditional love. A love that wouldn’t hold his past against him. Specifically, Kaylie’s love.
Growling at the impossible, he shook his head and searched for Kaylie. Though he didn’t spot her immediately he knew she was there. He could smell her luscious scent of sweat pea flowers. His wolf rose eagerly in his mind, nostrils flaring. Suddenly another familiar scent reached him, one that had both man and beast rearing back in suspicion. Stunned, Dean turned his head to the field.
No way in hell.
Out on the pitcher mound was Celeste Davi, a female shifter from Togan whom he’d casually dated—aka slept with—for nearly a year before breaking things off. While he’d had no qualms about ending things with the clingy female, especially upon learning Kaylie was returning to Woodcliff for good, Celeste hadn’t taken the split very well. Frankly, she’d been pissed.
Dean recalled her screeching at him like a harpy. Having slept her way through the majority of her own pack, the manipulative female had set her sights on Dean. She’d tolerated his distracted attentions, his lack of affection, and his cock, believing that Dean would, out of apathy if nothing else, claim her as his mate, thus making her lupa of his pack.
While he’d tried to be diplomatic, Celeste had ranted. When Dean remained calm, she had become even more enraged. But when she came at him with stinging slaps and raking nails, both man and wolf had reached their limit. Dean had loosed his power, the kind that only came from being an Alpha, and directed an unforgiving and deadly stream of magical energy right at Celeste until she cowered in supplication. Dean Kinigos was not only Alpha of one of the largest shifter packs in the States; he was easily one of the most powerful shifters in the world. No one who crossed him remained unscathed. When he’d walked away from Celeste, he’d made sure she’d never forget what was due her pack leader.
And now here the bitch was. Dean’s eyes narrowed in thought. The only time Celeste ever got physical was during sex. She never even lifted a finger to clean her apartment. What the hell was she doing here, and playing baseball? Even as he searched for Kaylie, he knew it was too much of a coincidence. According to Caleb, Dean’s interest in Kaylie hadn’t gone unnoticed, and somehow—Dean could easily figure out how—Celeste had dug her claws into a male body and had found out about Kaylie. The proverb about hell and scorned women flashed hot and red in his vision. With Celeste’s psychotic wrath, and even greater physical strength, she just might kill his mate.
Anxiety swirled in his gut. His claws slid out from under his nails as the seconds passed with no sight of Kaylie. Now he was in full panic. The muscles in his thighs tightened as he prepared to jump the fence when—finally!—someone moved from behind one of the dugouts, and Dean spied Kaylie on the bench. His sigh of relief came out in a great whoosh one breath, only to become an angry and possessive snarl the next. Not only was that fucking Pete Everett sitting next to her, the suicidal jerk was now actually raising Kaylie’s hand to his fucking mouth!
Dean’s lips curled in a sneer to accommodate his lengthening fangs. He inched closer and sniffed. No scent of feminine excitement. Kaylie wasn’t aroused, even though she was holding hands with the man she’d thrown in Dean’s face only a few hours ago. Dean’s brows drew together in thought.
Just then Kaylie leaned forward, did something he couldn’t see, and then stood and walked out onto the field. Dean shifted his glare f
rom Pete to Kaylie, noting immediately that something was wrong with her movements. Scanning her body did nothing but make his cock twitch with approval. He loved the way she moved, loose and limber, her hips swaying with enticing ease. That heart-shaped, ample ass begged for his hands to cup and squeeze it while he slid his cock into her wet sheath.
Groaning at where his thoughts always took him when he looked at Kaylie, he almost missed the slight limp and the way she scowled at the pitcher. Flicking his gaze to the mound he caught the intense hatred Celeste aimed right back at Kaylie.
This was so not good.
As the first pitch rocketed over the plate, Dean hopped over the perimeter fence. He saw Kaylie jump back and knew that his concern was not misplaced. Celeste was out for blood.
Then the second pitch and—crack!—Kaylie connected! Dean skidded to a halt, pride crashing through him even as he noted the way she’d adjusted her stance to make the hit. The woman was damn smart and stubborn as hell. She could have taken the walk—painful hit and not the first from the looks of it—but she didn’t. Damned foolish woman.
With his gaze intent on Kaylie, Dean barely registered the ball hurtling through the air, aimed at Kaylie’s head. Her battered plastic headgear was no protection against a ball thrown with a velocity that no human could ever achieve. Even as his feet began to move, he knew he’d never reach Kaylie in time. He was fifty feet away when the ball connected with Kaylie’s helmet, twenty when she went flying. She’d barely hit the ground when Dean leaped the fence surrounding the playing field. Racing to her side, he dropped to his knees and simply froze. Hands that shook remained inches from her still frame. He was suddenly afraid of touching her, not out of his idiotic denial of sparking the mating heat, but out of fear of causing more damage to her fragile human body.
She was lying on her side, her face toward him, eyes closed. The helmet was, amazingly, in place, but the large, jagged impact crack right above her left ear had nearly split the headgear in half. The sight stopped his heart dead. He wanted to yank the pathetic piece of plastic away and soothe her injury, but was beyond terrified at what might lay underneath.
“Kaylie,” he croaked out, finally reaching out to pick up her hand. He looked down, noting how small it was in his larger one. “Kaylie, baby, wake up.” He placed a hard kiss to her palm and then laid it on his chest, covering it with his left one. Carefully, oh, so gently, he ran one finger of his right hand down her exposed cheek. “Open your beautiful brown eyes, Kaylie. Look at me. Curse at me. Anything.” He felt an overwhelming need to gather her in his arms and rock.
Someone fell to their knees on the other side of Kaylie and he growled out in warning even as he looked up.
“Easy, Dean,” Caleb murmured, Tess on his heels, calling her sister’s name.
Humans and shifters alike all started to gather around them and Dean snarled, his fangs flashing, his wolf ready to snap and maul anyone that came too close to his injured mate.
“Dean,” Caleb hissed, “you need to reel it in. Jacklyn is coming and you must let her examine Kaylie.” He motioned with his hands, stalling others, like Pete, who were trying to get closer. “We need to make room here. I want everyone back ten feet, and do not make me stand up to enforce that request.”
Immediate shuffling was his answer.
Just then a petite brunette crouched slowly at Kaylie’s head. “Dean,” her voice was a husky whisper, melodic as it was urgent. “Alpha, please. I need to remove her helmet.”
“No,” Dean’s voice was guttural, more beast than human as he leaned protectively over Kaylie.
“Yes,” Ruth Gentry, Kaylie and Tess’s mother, said as she dropped to her hunches next to Dean. She was the only person either brave or stupid enough to get close to Dean in his feral mood. Foolish woman. Dean glanced from Ruth to Kaylie and squeezed his eyes shut. Like mother like daughter.
Ruth laid a gentle hand on his shoulder, her voice hard as steel. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and Kaylie, but she was my daughter before she ever met you, and I will decide what’s best for her.”
Dean swallowed the lump in his throat, and hissed out for Ruth’s ears only, “She might be your daughter, but she was born to be mine; my woman, my mate.”
Ruth made an inarticulate sound, her hand slipping from Dean’s shoulder as she stared at him. A second later her eyes narrowed. “Then you will soon find out just how tough Kaylie is. And smart.” She looked over at Jacklyn and gave her a nod. “Do what you need to.”
Dean clenched his jaw when Caleb reached out and lifted Kaylie’s neck up as Jacklyn slowly removed the damaged plastic. Underneath Dean saw matted hair … and that was it. Sweaty, matted, beautiful, silky brown hair.
Jacklyn ran practiced hands over Kaylie’s head. “Incredible. She’s got a nice sized lump, but the skin’s not even broken. I want to take her in for x-rays of course to be sure, but I think she might only have a slight concussion.”
Tess snatched up the helmet, peered inside, and began to laugh. “It’s not cracked on the inside. In fact, the padding is about three times as thick as a normal batter’s cap. It’s amazing she was even able to fit it on her fat head.”
Ruth nodded knowingly. “See, tough and smart. After years of broken bones and skinned flesh, Kaylie learned how to better protect herself, if for no other reason than to ease my constant worry and continual nagging.” She fanned herself. “Not that I didn’t have a heart attack on the way over here.”
“Mom,” Tess immediately looked up, concern thick in her eyes. After all, it was only a few months back that Ruth had suffered a stroke.
“Figure of speech. Sorry.” She turned her attention to Kaylie and smacked her lightly on the cheek, her actions belying her calm demeanor. Ignoring Jacklyn’s shocked gasp she hissed at her youngest daughter, “Dammit, Kaylie girl. Did you hear me? You gave me a heart attack.”
Kaylie’s eyelids flickered. “Five more minutes, Mom,” she grumbled out in a hoarse whisper.
Jacklyn swung her gaze from Ruth to Kaylie and back again. “Huh. Haven’t tried that one.” Standing, she reached down for a black bag. “We need to get her to the clinic.”
“I’ll carry her.” Dean was already sliding his arms under Kaylie’s limp body. No way in hell was any other male touching her right now.
“I have an SUV,” Jacklyn told him. “You can hold her in the backseat as we’re only a few blocks away.”
“We’ll be right behind you,” Ruth said as her love interest, and boss, Dolen O’Keefe, came up and wrapped an arm around her shoulder.
Dean only nodded in reply. When he stood he looked out over the crowd and saw Celeste standing uneasily on the pitcher’s mound, next to one of Caleb’s deputies. Retribution glinted like hard diamonds in his green eyes as he glared at the woman.
“I’ll take care of Celeste,” Caleb said from behind him as he gripped Dean’s arm, making the tight muscles jump in agitation. “She’s not going anywhere. See, Brandon’s already got her. You just take care of your mate.”
Dean jerked his head around and stared at Caleb. Then he glanced down at Kaylie, her long hair swinging from a crooked ponytail over his arm. All the talk today of Kaylie being his mate had nearly pushed him to the edge; he wanted to claim her right now. But injured as she was, that was unfair. He would give it a couple of days. Maybe by then he would find his resolve to do the right thing and leave her be, to live a happy life unburdened by Dean’s baggage.
Engrossed in his thoughts, Dean never noticed the single pair of amber eyes, blazing with hatred, that peered out from the edge of the forest. Fixated on the man’s every move, the wolf never blinked as it considered with barely remembered human capacity that what lay in the man’s arms was his greatest weakness.
Chapter Six
“I’ve never seen anyone move so fast,” Tess said just before she nipped a cucumber from her fork.
Kaylie knew her sister was referring to Dean and how quickly he’d apparently raced to Kay
lie’s side after that fateful connection of ball to noggin last Friday. Just the thought of that less than stellar incident made her head ache.
Kaylie had received a mild concussion, a nice lump on her head to rival all other lumps she’d been privy to during her athletic existence, and a couple of large bruises. Now, a week later, she was almost back to her normal self. Well, other than the constant arousal that had her recrossing her legs even now.
At first it hadn’t been really noticeable. In fact, Kaylie had thought she was getting a fever or possibly suffering some ill effects from the pain medications. But the ache between her legs had only intensified with every passing day. Her nipples were hard little nubs that rubbed her bra constantly. Finally she had no choice but to acknowledge the truth, which should have made her happy. Instead, she was just irritated. And wet. And swollen. God she really needed an orgasm, or three.
Upon waking in one of the beds at the small hospital Friday night, Kaylie had a vague recollection of being in Dean’s arms, feeling safe, albeit confused as his eyes gazed into hers with concern. Now she knew that Dean had indeed held her last Friday, and the physical contact had started what Kaylie suspected it would. The mating heat. Only Kaylie never realized the arousal was so persistent. So intrusive. She should have listened to her sister with a woman’s heart rather than with a doctor’s ear.
Now it was Wednesday, and she was eating a late lunch with her sister at Dolen’s Cafe, trying to appear nonchalant, but fearing she was not even close to managing the task. Kaylie shifted on her seat, unsure how to bring up the subject. What the hell.
Heck, she automatically corrected herself.
Shifter’s Surrender Page 4