by L. A. Banks
“For chrissake, Sasha! This was not supposed to be a part of the transformation healing!” Doc walked back and forth as Shogun yanked on his linen pants and zipped them with a wince. “What father ever wants to see something like this? Jesus wept and I know why!”
“Doc,” Sasha said, trying to keep the tremor of humiliation out of her voice, all the while resisting both the anger and defiance that was bubbling up within her. “It’s not exactly black-and-white or cut-and-dried . . . there’s other forces involved. I . . .” She let the protest die on an audible exhalation of frustration. Her body ached, and Shogun was clearly still messed up, but a catastrophe had been averted.
“Baby,” Shogun murmured, responding to the rush of breath she’d just released. “You can’t explain this . . . there is no vocabulary to do it justice. I will respect your father—this was indeed not the way for him to have found us . . . my apologies.”
“Oh, God . . .” Sasha covered her face with her hands. She was a grown-ass woman but was acting like a teenager caught in the act. None of this made sense. “It’s the damned spell, gentlemen!”
“My name is Bennit and I ain’t in it,” Doc said in a huff, rounding the ambulance to get back in the cab. “I didn’t see nothing,” he shouted and then slammed the door. “I’m not explaining anything, either. But you all best get yourselves together before Hunter gets back. Sasha, you need to ride up here with me or his ass can walk!”
Hunter clasped Silver Hawk’s forearm in the age-old warrior’s embrace the moment they entered the shadow lands.
“Grandfather, grow steady here. This is the only place to purge the dark magick that has affected us all.”
Silver Hawk nodded and then closed his eyes and took in several deep cleansing breaths. “I was ready for war . . . Hatred that I hadn’t felt in years filled my spirit. I feel unclean.”
Hunter nodded. “It’s like a dark soot that covers your eyes and permeates your soul . . . It makes you blind and stokes passions that the evolved spirit would normally shun.”
“Let us take a walk and ask our ancestors what they can see from this side,” Silver Hawk murmured, his tone deep and thoughtful. Then he lifted his chin and sniffed the air.
Hunter looked away.
“They will come at you and your brother through your weakness, whatever this dark magick may bring.”
“I know, Grandfather.”
“Then you are fully aware that your weakness is her.”
“The ambulance should have arrived by now,” Seung Kwon growled, staring at Bear Shadow.
“It will be here when it gets here,” Bear Shadow snarled, then suddenly all the wolves were on their feet in the B&B lobby.
“Sasha really cares about Shogun,” Clarissa said in a quiet voice. “If she can save him, she will.” Clarissa whipped out her cell phone. “Before you guys go to war and anyone gets hurt, let me call her.”
“Do that!” Seung said, turning a hot gaze on Clarissa.
“Watch your tone with the lady,” Bear Shadow said in a low warning growl.
Clarissa punched Sasha on speed dial and breathed out a gasp of relief when the call connected. “Got a bunch of very nervous wolves standing around,” she said quickly. “Status, Captain.”
“We’re on our way,” Sasha said into the receiver.
“I want to speak to Shogun!” Seung Kwon shouted.
“You hear that?” Clarissa asked nervously.
“Roger that.”
After a few moments, traffic sounds filled the receiver and then Shogun was on the phone. “Let me speak to my men.”
Clarissa tossed the cell phone to Seung Kwon and the entire room watched as he walked away with it. His shoulders slumped and he nodded, then disconnected the call. Chin-Hwa and Dak-Ho exchanged nervous glances, their eyes asking the question that they didn’t verbalize. Seung Kwon tossed the phone back to Clarissa.
“He said to go across the street, eat, and go have a drink—he’ll be there shortly. He sounds like himself.”
“Are you sure?” Chin-Hwa asked quietly, seeming completely amazed.
“It was him—no imposter?” Dak-Ho asked, rounding Seung to hold his arm.
“It was him,” Seung confirmed and then looked at Bear Shadow, giving him a slight bow of respect. “We are, therefore, in your debt, as protocol warrants.”
The human team let out a cheer, much to the surprise of the bewildered Werewolves.
“She did it,” Clarissa said, laughing, slapping high fives with Bradley and Winters.
Bear Shadow gave Crow Shadow a look. “Does that mean we’re off duty?”
“Can we really stand down . . . or do we need to wait for Hunter’s word?” Woods looked around unsure, watching the Werewolves head to the bar across the street. “Maybe we could send a runner to bring back a coupla brewskis and some burgers?”
Bear Shadow’s gaze hadn’t left Clarissa since her voice hit a squealing octave that made him and Crow Shadow tilt their heads.
“If the lady would like something to eat . . .” Bear Shadow’s gaze shimmered amber.
She smiled and then shrugged with a self-conscious giggle.
“We should maybe go with takeout, man,” Crow Shadow said, his gaze flowing over her body.
“I think you both need to go take a walk,” Woods said evenly, gaining a slow nod from Fisher as he hoisted the strap of his M-16 higher on his shoulder.
Bear Shadow rubbed the back of his neck and then shook his head, making his long hair sweep his shoulders. “You are right, familiar. These quarters are confining. We will bring back beef and beer.”
All eyes followed the wolves out the door and, once sure they were out of earshot, Bradley looked at Woods, arms folded.
“What the hell was that?” Bradley said, his chin lifted with indignation.
“Two guys that have more wolf in them than we do, near a rising moon, having just gone through a serious adrenaline battle rush . . . on an empty stomach . . . with a bad spell kicking their libidos’ butts—and you’ve got a full-fledged male wolf stalk about to go down.” Woods rubbed the tension out of his neck as he lowered his weapon. “One female, two male wolves—we could have had a beta male brawl in here . . . And trust me, if Bear started throwing his weight around, all of us stood to get hurt.”
“So, what am I, chopped liver?” Clarissa said, sounding more hurt than indignant. “So it had to be a bad spell, the phase of the moon, a wolf dominance display, but had nothing to do with me whatsoever, or the possibility that anybody could be interested in me? I’m just ’Rissa. Resident psychic chick, bio brain, one of the guys.” She looked around, tears standing in her eyes. “You all suck.”
The remaining males in the room looked at one another, momentarily at a loss for words, when Clarissa walked out and hurried up the stairs.
“What’d we say?” Fisher asked, opening his arms.
“I’m not exactly sure,” Woods said quietly. “But she’s a sweetheart and the last thing I wanted to do was hurt her feelings.”
“Beats the hell out of me,” Winters said, looking in the direction that ’Rissa fled. “I’ve never seen her like this. You think she’s on her period or something?”
Bradley shook his head. “You assholes are so blind.” He let out a weary sigh and left the room, following Clarissa’s path up the stairs and to her room.
He knocked on the door softly and announced himself with care.
“ ’Rissa, it’s me, Bradley.” He waited and there was no movement, but he heard her blow her nose. “They’re dorks. C’mon, open the door.”
“Just leave it alone, Brads, okay?” she said in a shaky voice. “I just need to be by myself.”
He stood there confounded and rested his head against the door. “I can’t just leave it, all right? There are some things I‘ve needed to say for a long time, but . . . Do I have to do this talking through a door?”
After a moment, he heard the bedsprings sound and her feet hit the floor. Then he heard
her walk toward the door, and the lock turn before she opened it.
“What?” she said, eyes puffed and clasping a tissue.
“Can I come in?”
“I’d rather you just insult me here, all right?”
Bradley closed his eyes but allowed his palms to rest gently on her arms. “I would never insult you, ’Rissa. I like you too much, respect you too much . . . Your mind is . . . I cannot describe.”
She hung her heard and more tears fell as she released a sad chuckle. “I know, blah, blah, blah, I’m like the sister you never had, and you wanna remain friends and always be cool and . . . I get it. I so get it. Fat but smart ’Rissa, the team’s dependable geek. It’s just that for a half a second when Bear Shadow looked at me like I was steak, I really felt pretty for once in my life. Stupid spell or not, you know—what am I saying, of course you don’t know.” She wiped at her eyes angrily and then stared at him. “It was petty and female and I normally don’t give in to that, my bad. Sorry I freaked you guys out, can I go now?”
So many things were competing to get out of his head and out of his mouth at the same time that his voice failed. She backed up and placed her hand on the doorknob.
“Wait.” Bradley palmed the door to keep her from closing it. “You’re beautiful to me, ’Rissa.”
“Thanks,” she said in a monotone voice, “I love you, too. I’ll be better in the morning.”
“Not like-a-sister beautiful,” he said, still resting his hand against the door.
She looked up at him and he swallowed hard.
“Not like-a-sister beautiful,” he repeated quietly.
Her hand fell away from the doorknob and she began to shred the tissue she was holding.
“You don’t have to say that to make me feel better.” She looked down at her bare feet and shrugged. “I know what I’m not.”
“You are the blindest seer I’ve ever encountered,” he said in a soft murmur. “Honestly you are.”
She slowly lifted her head and stared at him, her liquid blue gaze shimmering with new tears. “Why are you messing with my head, Bradley? We’re friends.”
“You’re right, we’re friends, and I’m glad of that—but you’re also the kindest person I have ever known. Clarissa McGill. You care about people, you’re dedicated, honorable . . . You give 150 percent to everyone around you and you appreciate people.” He looked down at his shoes. “I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable at work . . . so I tried not to stare at that cutest dimple that peeks out on your chin when you laugh, or stare at the clearest, most beautiful pair of blue eyes I’ve ever seen when you get that far-off look in them. It’s a fine line we guys walk, in the spirit of political correctness. I always wanted you to like me and not think of me as some lecherous jerk.”
“I would never think that about you,” she murmured.
He shook his head and leaned against the door frame, still not allowing his gaze to meet hers. “I know how you feel . . . what it feels like to be invisible. Woods and Fisher have that, I don’t know . . . military, commando swagger that slays women in the bars from eighteen to eighty. They’re like fifteen to twenty years my junior, buff . . . Even Winters has that cute technology-guy charisma going for him that makes coeds think he’ll be the next Bill Gates . . . And I’m just Bradley, the resident dark arts expert, who’s over forty and—”
“Handsome,” Clarissa said in a soft voice.
Bradley looked up at her and then looked away with a sad smile. “You’re kind, but, in the male lineup on this team, I’m realistic, ’Rissa. Stand me beside one of those ripped Shadow Wolves and it’s sad. So, I—”
“Just throw yourself into your work and try to tell yourself it doesn’t matter.”
He nodded. “Something like that.”
“Try to tell yourself that it doesn’t hurt when the members of your team get picked up on nights out for fun—one by one—and you’re the only one holding down the table watching all the drinks.”
“Yeah,” he said, letting out a wistful sigh. “But after a while, you sort of get used to it.”
“But that little voice inside never dies does it?” She let out a breath as his gaze met hers again. “The one that says, why not me . . . Am I so unattractive or such a bad person that you won’t even dance with me? That even if I’m not the prettiest one in the place . . .”
“Oh, ’Rissa, haven’t you noticed that I always dance with you and I’m always holding down the table with you?”
She nodded and swallowed hard. “I thought you were just being a gentleman.”
“I was, but don’t I get points for that, too?”
His forlorn tone and the irony of what he’d said made her smile.
“Yeah . . .”
“Did you ever stop and think that for the average guy it might be hard to come over to a table with a woman who’s wedged between two very athletic hunks, an older dude that could be her husband or maybe a protective big brother, a young guy who could be a lunatic younger brother, and then freakin’ storm trooper–looking males in the form of mini versions of the Hulk. I personally wouldn’t ask you for the time, let alone a dance, Clarissa. Beauty has nothing to do with it; survival of the fittest does. That’s basic male logic.”
He was glad that she covered her mouth and laughed. It was a joyous, soul-deep sound that made him smile.
“Oh, my God, Bradley . . . I never looked at it that way!”
He folded his arms over his chest, leaning on the door frame. “Well, I’m glad we at least got that much cleared up tonight.” He smiled at her and then unfolded his arms. He seemed not to know what to do with his hands for a moment, then shoved them into his pockets. “It’s not a crime to be smart. Even though this is the twenty-first century, some guys get it backwards . . . but I’m not one of them. I think it’s attractive . . . sexy, if you must really know. You’re brilliant, Clarissa. That simply blows me away.”
She glanced away again shyly. “Thank you.”
An uncomfortable silence hung in the air between them.
“I don’t want it to get weird now,” he finally said. “I just wanted you to know that you are . . . special and that I do know what it feels like to be viewed as some sort of asexual being when I’m not.”
She stared at him until he looked away again.
“I mean—that didn’t come out right,” he said, stammering.
“Yes, it did,” she said quietly. “Who doesn’t want to feel like someone is dreaming about them at night or wants them like that?”
He nodded, staring down at his loafers. “Precisely. It’s easy to talk to a psychic—they always know what you mean, even when you botch it.”
She smiled and touched his cheek with the tips of her fingers, making him look at her. “You didn’t botch anything, and you don’t have to make jokes about something so deeply personal.”
“I’m not any good at this, Clarissa,” he said quietly. “I’m a klutz when trying to express myself about things like this.”
“How many years have we been working together without any dates, without any Monday morning stories about a fantastic weekend away with someone?”
“About five years,” he said in a quiet rush and closed his eyes.
“Maybe longer than that?” she offered, moving closer to him.
He simply nodded and then swallowed hard.
“That’s a long time to feel invisible.”
“An eternity,” he said in a low murmur, pushing a stray wisp of her hair behind her ear.
“I don’t want to feel invisible anymore,” she said quietly, closing the gap between them.
“Neither do I.”
She leaned up and brushed his mouth with a tender kiss, and he deepened it where they stood, a tremor running through them both.
“What if this is the dark magick?” he murmured, pulling back. “I don’t want you to ever regret . . . I mean tomorrow, you could feel very upset about all of this and we still have to work together.”
&nb
sp; She took up his hand and led him inside her room, closing the door with a gentle thud and locking it. “Does it matter if it’s a spell or not?” she asked, standing before him and looking up.
“Clarissa . . . I . . .”
She took his mouth again and this time he deepened it with more ardor. But when he broke their kiss, breathless, she cupped his jaw in her palm. His hands were trembling as they held her shoulders and she didn’t need any gift of second sight to understand the questions that beleaguered his mind.
“I won’t judge you,” she said in a patient whisper.
“I want to be able to look in your eyes in the morning and still see some semblance of respect there,” he said in a pained whisper as he rested his forehead against hers with his eyes shut tightly. “Right now . . . I’m not sure that will happen. I’d better go before I truly humiliate myself.”
She backed him up against the door, and took his mouth hard until his hands found her hair like they meant it. The moment her breasts pressed against his chest and her pelvis molded to his, she felt his breath hitch. No matter how awkward his words, his body was anything but. His fingers were long, graceful, and magnificent against her skin. Warm maleness and gentle caring surrounded her; his embrace made her dizzy. How could she have been so blind?
Honorable protests about the next day melted against her touch as her hand slid between them and found his shaft. The hard clench of his stomach nearly doubled him over as he murmured her name. It had been so long since anyone had passionately breathed her name into her hair that she almost wept. Fumbling with his shirt buttons, she swallowed his moan, giving them permission to redress years of self-denial.
“I know it’s been five years or more of celibacy . . . for both of us,” she said on a ragged whisper. “You won’t disappoint me, no matter how brief the first encounter. We have all night. Just love me.”
CHAPTER 12
“You know, Bradley’s been up there a long time, guys . . . You think ’Rissa is really upset?” Winters said, glancing toward the stairs.