His Only Weakness

by Felicia Breneé

  Another snap!

  A shadow crept out of the tree line. It wasn’t a bear, too thin. It placed one paw forward, deliberately moving toward her. Her breath came even quicker. Her heart drummed against her ears. Should she run? Play dead?

  Why couldn’t she move?

  Closer the beast idled toward her, sniffing the air. The fire reflected in its dark marble eyes. Long, dark matted fur glistened in the strange orange of the firelight. Her throat tightened with panic. Her scream silenced in her opened mouth. Her eyes stung, but she couldn’t blink to moisten them. She stared at the advancing human-dog-like creature. He was terrifying, and yet familiar, exotic. Its musk scent wafted from his wet fur. She knew that scent. But how?

  Slowly, purposefully, he sniffed the edge of her sleeping bag. Pushing the unzipped edge aside. Why hadn’t she zipped it before she crawled in? Its warm tongue licked her ankle, tasting her. A shiver raced up her spine. There was something erotic in this terrifying connection.

  The beast nudged the sleeping bag from her legs, exposing them to the chilling air, and yet his warm breath and the fire covered her with moist heat she couldn’t explain. A thrill exploded through her body. She swallowed hard.

  He crawled over the length of her. Somehow, her sleeping bag had opened, exposing her body to the beast. Her usual t-shirt and boxers were gone.

  He dipped his head slightly over her feminine tuft, then lifted his snout upward, drawing her scent into his snout. A shudder washed over its back, sending elation through her body. She knew it was wrong, but she enjoyed it all the same.

  She couldn’t understand why her body was reacting this way to such a horrifying beast. She could die any moment, and yet… arousal flooded her blood stream. Was that what he inhaled so wantonly? It was terrifying and exhilarating at the same time. Her eyes remained fixed on the fire flicking in its beady eyes.

  The beast’s huge dark irises contracted, exposing more of the whites of its eyes. They morphed into human eyes, the long-matted fur became strands of messy brown hair. The weight of its paw pressed into the bag beside her elbow, changing into a large hand, it’s fore leg became a human arm. Ribbons of muscles bulged as his weight shifted, moving closer to her face. Desire drew her body toward him, arching her back. Her breast lifted with her panting breath, just brushing against his rough, dark hair-laden chest.

  His eyes were fixed on her mouth. His muscles, taut and defined, bulged as he restrained himself, hovering just inches above her length. Brady! He eased slowly toward her, devouring her lips. She kissed him back. God help her. This was wrong, so wrong, but she loved him still. His tongue teased hers. Hers taunted back. Her body responded to the passion that coursed through her veins. She limbs released from the paralyzing trance. She could move! She buried her hands in his curly locks, pulling him deeper into the passionate kiss.

  He lowered himself. She could feel his fervor burning against her thigh. His hips undulated nearer to where her desire smoldered in moist longing. Her body anticipated, arched toward him—

  Heather sprang up in bed. Panting, a film of sweat covered her entire body. Damn! She had dreamed about him again. Her eyes darted to the peach sheets and duvet that lay twisted and pushed to the floor. Her night gown lay wadded at her pillow. When had she removed it?

  Her body had responded to the dream as if it were real. So-so real. She needed a shower. This was ridiculous. Brady had left. All those years ago. Just when she needed him most. He didn’t want to have anything more to do with her. Why did she let him invade her dreams? What was the meaning of the symbolism? Why did her mind morph him out of a beast?

  Man, her psychiatrist would love analyzing this one. If she were to tell her. No way she would tell her or Grandma, or anybody. This was her private and coveted secret. She bit her lip. And why did her heart passionately hope he never left her nocturnal world.

  She bounded for the shower. Leaving the pretty covers on the floor. She needed to get to work. There were two bodies needing autopsied first thing this morning. She’d told Grandma she’d do them since they had come in late yesterday evening. She had forced Grandma to go home while she put them on ice and cleaned up the medical examiner’s clinic before she headed home herself.

  The phone rang. Should she get it, or let it go to voice mail? Something held her from getting in the shower. The cell phone rang again. She rushed to the nightstand. Poppy? Why would her sister call so early in the morning? This can’t be good.

  Chapter Four

  The creek forked. Hmm which way? He sniffed the air. A tingle raced down his arms. Rain. He sighed. As long as it stayed light, it wouldn’t wash away the scent he had picked up from the stuffed cat doll. The rising heat mixed with falling rain causing a humid blanket to cover the canyon. His shirt clung to his skin. Yet, as he tracked the scent of the little girl, his hair stood out on his arms as if he were chilled. She had walked down the left fork. He nudged his horse.

  The rain soaked through his jeans. It was miserable. But how miserable would a little four-year-old be in what he imagined to be a long flannel night gown? “Mable!” He called out. But the wind threw his voice back in his face. He shifted with the horse’s stumble over the rocks. Pain soared up his back like a bottle rocket. An overhanging rock up ahead, caught his attention. He clicked his tongue, urging Dick to keep moving. The horse whinnied, vibrating with his lips his disgust at being in the rain.

  “Yeah, I know, boy.”

  Brady sat up high in his saddle. Something… under that overhang… was it trash? Dick plodded along, his shod hooves sliding across the rough ground, causing him to stumble. Brady focused hard on the pale colored wad of …

  It was the girl!

  “Mable?” Brady called out. She lifted her head. A shiver raked her body, she tucked back into the ball she had been in. Brady dismounted, but paused. He looked up. Something wasn’t right. He let go of the reins and strode toward the child. Then he heard it.

  A crack.

  The rain! The rocks! The girl!

  He ran to her, bent to scoop her into his arms. The cracking sound became a roar, washing over his back. His body lit on fire, expanding in every direction. He tucked the girl against his chest and bent his head over her. The creature took over his body as rock and dirt fell over them. Pain shot through his back and hip, but he held strong against the weight of the rockslide.

  He girl whimpered but hunkered into his fur. Brady was relieved she didn’t realize his transformation and fight to get away from him. The creature could withstand the rockslide, as long as it wasn’t the whole mountain coming down on them, even though the man had a titanium hip joint and pins holding his lower vertebrae together. The pressure pressed down on him, but he locked his knees and forced himself to stand against it. This child’s life depended on him.

  The rumble waned. Dust settled. Brady didn’t dare open his eyes. With the girl tucked in his arms, against his body, he drew in a deep breath, and shoved upward with all his might. A roar escaped his mouth, as they emerged from under the rubble. One step, then another, the creature limped against the artificial implants in the man. The girl looked up then. Yet she didn’t panic. Did she realize what just happened? Brady shook off the stone and dirt, like a dog shaking off excess water and struggled to step out of the debris. Dick had trotted back from the rockslide but looked unscathed. Good.

  Brady cradled the girl, she clung with her arm around his neck. What a sight they must be. He made his way beyond the collapsed overhang and sat down against a large boulder. He panted. Exhaustion filled his body. The creature faded. Concentrating on his breathing, slowing his heart rate, slowly, but surely, he was himself. The girl still clung to his neck. He forced himself to open his eyes. She looked at him in wonder.

  “You alright?” The growl was still in his voice. He cleared his throat.

  She hesitated, then nodded. “Doggy save me.”

  “Let’s get you back to your momma.” Brady stood, cradling her still. She only had one slippe
r. The other foot looked bloody. He leaned down, scooped up his hat, and glanced at her foot as he walked. Looked like a cut, nothing bad. He placed her on the horse, in front of his saddle and put his foot in the stirrup.

  Setting his hat on his head, he took hold of the saddle horn, drew in a deep breath, and swung his other leg over. Settling in behind the girl. She hadn’t uttered a word or a sound since she called him a doggy. Was she in shock? If so, it was probably better for him. She could recover from shock. Trauma from witnessing his transformation might be another matter. He sighed and pulled Dick’s rein, to turn him around and head back to ground zero. This was going to be a good return. He anticipated that mom and her daughter to be quite glad when they saw this girl sitting atop his horse.

  Dick plodded across the rocky creek bed, as if he remembered the way they had come. Brady let him lead the way. The girl bobbed and rocked with the sway of the horse but remained silent. Brady braced her with one hand, just so she didn’t fall off, and held the reins loosely with the other. This was a good day.

  Dick’s pace quickened the closer they got to the camp site. Funny how he knew this was going to be a joyful reunion. Brady didn’t mind, but he worried about the tiny girl slipping from his grip. “Whoa. Slow down some, boy.”

  The girl turned her head and looked up into his face. She had big beautiful brown eyes. Familiar eyes. But how could that be? He didn’t recognize her mother. Mrs. Fields. Fields. Did he know a guy named Fields? He ran his mind over the people he had done landscaping for. Fields didn’t ring any bells. He shrugged the mystery away. Maybe it was the creature’s familiarness after tracking her scent.

  They rounded a bend and the people at ground zero, wrapped in blankets because of the rain, looked his way. The EMTs ran for their truck, to off load a gurney, most likely. From the short distance, he heard Mrs. Field gasp. “He found her!”

  Brady smiled. This was a really good day. The girl was alright, and he almost had her back in her mother’s arms.

  His eyes caught sight of another woman. Two, in fact, wearing raincoats. They had not been there before. Something about the younger one seemed familiar. She turned around abruptly when the others muttered his arrival.

  Heather? It couldn’t be!

  A lightning bolt shot through his body with an impossible but well-known sensation. He sat straighter in the saddle.

  Just then the breeze whipped around and washed over him, with it the scent he’d never forget.

  It was her scent.

  No way! His smile faltered. This was not possible! But his nose and the increasing bulge in his pants told him otherwise.

  Mrs. Fields, the other parents, and the EMTs ran toward him. The woman that looked like Heather ran with them. They were coming for the girl. She remained limp against his chest.

  “Hey.” Brady gently moved the child to awaken her. “Look who’s here.”

  He would soon hand her off, load up his horse and go home. He couldn’t allow for any sort of a reunion. An older woman’s eyes met his. Brady sat up straighter. Sylvia Greystone?

  It couldn’t be Heather’s grandmother, Sylvia. She would be in her seventies… or eighties by now. This woman looked almost exactly like the Sylvia he had known in high school. Unless the Karuk blood that ran through her veins was strong, giving her perpetually youthful skin. A smile curled on the corner of his mouth. This was crazy. It had to be doppelgängers of Heather’s family. But could that be? A whole family of doppelgängers?

  There had always been a certain alliance between Brady and Sylvia that Brady couldn’t quite figure out. He welcomed it when he was young and lost. That connection hummed along his nerves now. He shook his head.

  Why would Heather and her grandmother be here? His gaze swept the others. Mrs. Fields! Brady resisted hitting himself on the side of the head. Poppy! Heather’s sister was Mrs. Fields.

  Brady nudged his horse forward and shifted the child in his lap. If that was Heather, this had to be her niece. His eyes honed on the Heather look-alike as they drew nearer. Even Heather’s gait while sprinting toward him was recognizable in this woman.

  It wasn’t his imagination! It had to be her. But how? He was twelve hundred miles and twenty years from where he’d last seen her. His mind had to be playing tricks on him.

  The mass of people trotted toward him. They’d want him to stay. Thank him with accolades and tears. But he knew it wasn’t his human abilities that found the girl— or saved her. It was the curse. For that, he wouldn’t accept credit. Just like the medals he was forced to wear on his dress whites, they were harsh reminders of the legacy he shunned.

  Then his heart slammed into his rib cage! Dick kept walking, but Brady felt himself stop dead cold in his tracks. He swallowed and tried to breath. The girl turned to look at him. But he couldn’t tear his eyes off the woman to return the girl’s curious gaze. The horse continued, plodding toward the running people, until they were there, at his side. The closer they got, the reality became undeniable.

  It was Heather!

  Mrs. Fields reached up to take her daughter into her arms. The other stood stone still beside her. Her mouth hung open. Lips slightly parted. Staring in silent disbelief.

  She recognized him, too. “Brady?”

  “Li’l Dove.” Brady breathed the words.

  Then she turned her attention to her niece, stroking her small head and kissing her forehead. But her eyes kept returning to his. The EMTs took the child and placed her on the gurney. Mrs. Fields staggered back to the campsite, trailing behind the medics. A man who had stayed in place next to the other daughter didn’t move from his spot. Mr. Fields, Brady presumed.

  Brady slid from the horse’s saddle and turned to Heather. Her scent overwhelming his senses, he could barely make words. He cleared his throat. “How ya been, Li’l Dove?”

  Her mouth gaped even wider. She glanced toward the gurney being pushed away with the child covered by a blanket. “Uh. Fine. Look, nobody calls me Little Dove anymore.”

  Their eyes locked with a heated longing of lovers from years faded into memories.

  “I’ve called you Li’l Dove for the past twenty years.”

  She cleared her throat. The glazed look waned with the effort. She perused him from head to toe. “Last I heard, you were a Navy Seal in Iraq.”

  “Yeah. Got out early.” A tight hoarseness clung to his voice. “Took a medical discharge. Landed outside of Penrose.”

  “You got hurt?”

  He shrugged, partially closing his eyes. “Only hurts when I get down from my horse.” He tried to chuckle, but it came out like an idiot’s groan. He coughed to cover up his chagrin.

  Her eyes roved over him. Was she looking for a missing limb? A prosthesis?

  “It was my hip… and back. Titanium ball-joint and pins put me back together. I’m alright.” The searing pain radiating across his hip and lower back protested his lie. He swallowed against it.

  “Good.” She still stared as if she were looking for more. “So. You rescue children now?”

  The sting of her words registered on every one of his nerves. Bitterness blended with her pheromones. The aroma turned his knees to goo. He clung to his horse to keep steady on his feet. “Landscaping. I own a company. My buddy, Deputy John Brockman” —he tipped his head toward John— “set up the auxiliary rescue team. I’m only called out when…” He glanced at the huddled family at the back of the ambulance. “It’s an emergency.”

  “Well.” She glanced at her family. “Thank you… for finding my niece.”

  Brady drew in a breath. His body had gone rigid. He didn’t dare move for fear she would notice. Returning his gaze to the family. Her niece? “That’s Poppy?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought she looked familiar. John introduced her as Mrs. Fields. If he would have said Poppy, I’d have easily put two and two together.” Why couldn’t he shut up? “Her married name threw me.”

  “Yeah, her and Hank got married about… um, seven years
ago.”

  Brady nodded, his eyes sweeping the people. “I see your grandma’s here. Where’s your mom?”

  Heather frowned. “That’s a long story. She lives in Cañon City, but…”

  Brady stepped up closer to Heather. She lifted her eyes to his. A familiar stirring in his chest made his heart pound like a native drum. His blood surged against his ears, drowning out the people’s chatter. “What about you?”

  She stared at him as if she were stunned. Did she not understand his question?

  “Did you get married?”

  Her chin went up a notch, just like it did when she was young. Somethings never change. “Well, yeah, but he died of cancer. How about you?”

  He shook his head. Words couldn’t get past the strangling sensation in his throat. She still didn’t get it. How could he explain? This was the conversation they should have had twenty years ago, only he couldn’t say it back then. How could he say it now?

  It’s not you, it’s me. It’s not me… it’s him. The monster that he inherited from Pops, who inherited it from Grandpops. And Great-Grand Pops. His family was, as far back as the family recorded their existence, cursed with the terror that existed in the males’ bloodline. That conversation never goes over well.

  The vivid memory from twenty years ago flooded his brain like it was just an hour ago. Brady had stayed at the hospital until the doctor came out. He listened to what the man said. Heather was alive. But she had miscarried. It was a boy. His worst fears confirmed. He swore right then and there, he’d never let this happen again.

  He walked out of that hospital, out of that town, and out of her life, forever. Joined the Navy and then the Seals. He never looked back, never rang that bell and never regretted the decision. Not once.

  It was only in those damn dreams that he continued to hold her in his arms, tasted her beauty, inhaled her desirous scent, and loved her still.