Belong To The Night

by Shelly Laurenston

  “I came down here,” Jamie said, “and found it like this.”

  “Of course you did.” He grabbed one of the large paper plates someone thoughtfully put out and began spooning someone’s mac and cheese onto it. “We take care of our own around here. And everyone knew you’d be too plumb tired to cook for me.”

  Jamie leaned against the sliding glass door frame. She had only a sheet wrapped around her and Lord knew she didn’t need anything else. “I’m cooking for you now?”

  “If you love me…”

  He left it out there hanging, expecting her immediate response. When he didn’t get it, he dropped his food on the table and stalked over to her. “You do love me. You already said so.”

  She looked off and Tully gave her his best “basset hound” expression. “Don’t you love me?”

  “That is a pitiful face.”

  He stuck his bottom lip out as far as possible and Jamie laughed hard, pressing her body into his.

  “Tell me you love me, beautiful.”

  “Of course I love you.”

  He kissed her smiling mouth and pulled her to the kitchen table. He sat down and sat her on his lap, reaching around her to get his plate of food.

  “There’s no way we can eat all this food,” she said.

  “Speak for yourself, Yankee.”

  “Do I have to do anything now?”

  Fork poised in front of his mouth, “Sorry?”

  “I mean…all this food. Should I send them cash or something? Mow their lawn? Babysit their kids?”

  Tully put his food back down on the table, sure he wouldn’t get his meal anytime soon.

  He ran his hands down her arms. “Look, the only thing you’ll have to do is maybe make a pie when someone’s momma passes on. Or bake a cake for someone’s birthday. And you’ll do it ’cause it’s a nice thing to do and because you know that when you need something, there’ll always be someone there to help. That’s just the way it is around here. You’ll get used to it.”

  “Will I have to start being less sarcastic? And mocking?”

  “No one’s expecting more than you can give, beautiful. Stick with the pies and the cakes, don’t make fun of the dead at their funerals, stop shooting at the hyenas on your territory—because we all know you have been—and you’ll be just fine.”

  She nodded, then said, “But if the hyenas are illegally on my property—”

  “Jamie.”

  “All right fine.”

  “Thank you.” He kissed her shoulder and reached for his plate but she caught his wrist.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.”

  “Woman, I’m hungry!”

  “You’re not getting a bit of this damn food until you say it.”

  “Fine. You’re light as a feather.”

  Jamie slammed her elbow into his chest.

  “Ow!”

  “Say it.”

  He laughed even as he rubbed where she’d hit him with that chicken wing of hers. “I love you.”

  “And?”

  And? He smiled. “And you’re as light as a feather.”

  She grinned. “Thank you.” She put her arms around his neck. “So now what?” When he frowned, she added, “After you eat.”

  “Sleep some more? Or maybe play another game of gropey hands?”

  “I meant where do we go from here?”

  “Oh that’s easy. When you’re at work, I’ll start moving your stuff in. You won’t notice at first, and by the time you do, it’ll all be here. Every night you’ll make noises about going back to your place, but you won’t. And then one day you’ll wake up with me sleeping beside you, and you’ll realize it’s thirty years later and wonder how you ever got so lucky as to have me in your life all that time.”

  “So I was right? One night and we’re now irrevocably attached.”

  “Yeah. But you were lucky enough to get me.”

  “True. And you were lucky enough to get me.” Her grin grew. “And Rico.” That’s when the bird flew in through the open door and landed on his shoulder, predator-talons digging into Tully’s flesh, her little beaked head turning toward him.

  “Great,” he lied. “Because I do so love your bird.”

  Jamie lifted up his plate of food and held it out so her mooching little fricassee could eat his mac and cheese. “And I can so see that love too,” she laughed.

  Epilogue

  Tully pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket, moving away from the small group he was speaking to and into a small hallway.

  “Hello?”

  “Boy.”

  And Tully had to smile, but he was glad Bubba Ray couldn’t see it. “Hi, Uncle Bub.”

  “You all right?”

  “Are you checking up on me?”

  “Asked you a question, boy.”

  Tully stifled a laugh. “I’m fine, sir.”

  “Your, uh, Aunt Janie was worried about you is all.”

  Tully had to admit it warmed his hard heart to realize how much his kin cared. It had been more than three weeks since Buck Smith’s body had been found. The rumor was that his two sons—Luther having disappeared—had turned on him. They’d even been bragging about it, trying to keep their Pack of strays from bailing. Maybe hoping to work their way into one of the other Smith Packs. But Tully knew the truth, had heard it from Kyle who’d heard it from some tree-dwelling feline kin of his out of Alabama.

  It had been the females who’d ended it for Buck Smith. Some Reeds, a few Lewises, and lots of Smiths. All of them She-wolves. When they’d heard what Buck had tried to do to Jamie, they’d descended on him like the wrath of God. It was the one thing female shifters wouldn’t put up with from the males and if the She-wolves hadn’t taken care of it themselves, the other breeds would have. Which would have led to mocking…and She-wolves hated being mocked.

  He probably should feel something about the man’s death, and he felt kind of guilty that he didn’t, but Buck Smith had reaped what he sowed. In the end, all that mattered to Tully was that his momma would never have that man’s hand around her throat again, and Jamie would never worry that he’d be coming back for her. Then again, he got the feeling Jamie was a little disappointed Buck wouldn’t be. She’d had all sorts of “stuff” waiting for him.

  “Well you tell Aunt Janie I’m fine.”

  “All right. Good. You need anything, you call.”

  “I will. Have a nice night.”

  “Yep.” Then the call ended as abruptly as it had started.

  After sliding his phone back into his jacket pocket, Tully adjusted his bow tie and headed back into the Mayor’s Spring Dance. It was a success, but he was painfully bored. Happy, but bored. He stared out the big glass doors and he saw a sleek swath of red silk slip by.

  “Hi, Tully.”

  A long arm wrapped around his shoulder and he grinned. “Hey, Mac.”

  “You need us to distract the crowd so you can get out of here?”

  “Nah. I made my speech, made sure the food and liquor are ample, and that everyone will have a good time.”

  “Then go on. She’s waiting for you outside.”

  “Thanks, darlin’.” He studied Mac a moment. “That’s a beautiful dress on you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I think Bear likes it, too.”

  Mac blinked, looking slightly panicked. “Um…huh?”

  “He’s been eyeing it all night. Maybe he wants to borrow it.”

  She let out a mighty relieved laugh before she pushed him away. “Go. Or I’m rattin’ you out to ya mother.”

  “Traitor.”

  Tully moved through the crowd and out the door, waving at his momma before he stepped out. Her smile was wide as she waved back and winked, her arm around his daddy’s waist, looking happier than she ever had before. Knowing Millie was in good hands—even if they were feline hands—Tully slipped outside.

  He saw Jamie leaning against a tree, completely unconcerned with the strapless five-thousand-dollar designer dress
he’d had made for her. Like him, she’d rather be in jeans and a T-shirt. Heh. Like him, she’d rather be naked. He headed toward her but stopped by one of the large bushes that surrounded the Crystal Room.

  “What’cha doin’?”

  His brother stepped out from behind the bushes. “Nothin’.”

  “Is that right, Emma? Is nothin’ going on back there?”

  “Go away,” Emma’s voice ordered from behind those bushes.

  “You sure you don’t need some help?”

  “Tully!” she squeaked.

  Kyle shook his head. “You are such a bastard.”

  “Not since my momma married your daddy.”

  He approached Jamie, marveling at how beautiful she looked in the moonlight. He kissed her cheek, his finger tracing the black Celtic Knot on her upper bicep that they’d woken up one morning to find marked into her skin. Proof she’d become a powerful goddess’s champion. It didn’t mean much to him, but Jamie had been really happy about it. And pretty damn cocky about it, too—much to her cousin’s intense annoyance.

  “You were great tonight,” he told her. “Who knew you were a natural politician’s wife?”

  “Bite your tongue.”

  “I’d rather you bite my tongue.”

  “You say that but then you bite back.” She pouted. “And I’m so delicate.”

  “Heh.”

  The valet pulled Tully’s car up and Jamie shook her head. She’d done the same when he’d pulled up in front of the house in it.

  “I still can’t believe you have a car.”

  “ ’Course I have a car. We’re not savages.”

  “But you never use it.”

  He shrugged. “I ain’t runnin’ from nothin’. And everything I want is in walking distance.” He winked at her. “Even you.”

  “But it’s a…a Lamborghini…”

  “You don’t like it?”

  “Are you kidding?” They stood staring at the car until Jamie asked, “You’d rather walk home, wouldn’t you?”

  He couldn’t lie to her, so he said, “Yeah.”

  She rolled her eyes and Tully looked at the grizzly cub he’d hired to take care of the parking for him. A nice, reliable kid. And Bear’s son.

  “When you’re done here tonight, Luke, think you can run the car back to my house?”

  Luke stared up at him with wide eyes. Like his father, he was probably going to be a late bloomer. Nearly seventeen but barely five-foot-seven. It made him a target with the other cubs and pups, but he took it well and held his own. If he was anything like his father, he’d wake up one day and be twice the size and much less tolerant.

  “Are…are you sure, Uncle Tully?”

  “Yep. And don’t let Kyle try and talk you out of it. I don’t let him drive it at all.”

  “Okay.”

  “And no dents or evidence girls have been back there.” He leaned in and whispered, “No evidence. You know what I mean.”

  “Oh, my God,” Jamie snapped. “Can we please go?”

  “See how she is, Luke? Busy trying to get me alone.”

  Jamie started walking away from him, but he caught her hand. “Not yet.” He crouched in front of her and pulled off her high heels. “You won’t make it a mile before you’re whining about your feet.”

  “I hate these shoes.”

  Tully held the shoes by their straps in his left hand and grabbed hold of Jamie’s hand with his right. They headed home, taking their time and enjoying the night. She complained about it an awful lot, but Tully had noticed that Jamie had taken to ambling more and more these days. It was good for her, too. Made her appreciate what she already had rather than always being busy trying to get what she didn’t. And the more comfortable she grew with everything around her, the less she felt that driving need to search out more and more power. Somehow, without saying much about it, Jamie had found that balance. That balance between what she had and what she wanted. And the funny thing was…it was by finding this balance that allowed more power to blossom within her, naturally.

  He wasn’t even sure if she’d realized it yet—she could be kind of dumb about the obvious. Beautiful, charming, and lethal—but dumb.

  But he loved her anyway.

  Jamie made his days bright and his nights…unbelievable.

  “Doing any casting soon, beautiful?”

  Head thrown back, Jamie laugh. “You ask me that every night.”

  “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

  “Oh. Okay.”

  “Tomorrow’s Sunday,” he needlessly reminded her. “I’m assuming we’re sleeping in.”

  “You assume a lot. I figure we should get up at six, face the day bright and early.”

  Tully stopped, forcing Jamie to stop with him.

  “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “I didn’t say we had to actually get out of bed or put on clothes in order to face the day bright and early.” Her hand still gripping his, she stepped into him, pressed that perfect, curvy body against his. “I’d prefer we stay right where we are.”

  “Now that sounds more like my speed, beautiful.” He kissed her chin, nuzzled his nose against hers. “Not too slow, not too fast.”

  “Just amble the morning away?” she sighed.

  “Can you think of anything better?”

  She cupped his cheek with tender fingers and softly replied, “For once…no. I can’t think of anything better.”

  In the Dark

  CYNTHIA EDEN

  Chapter One

  Her dead lover stood on the other side of the bar, rubbing his hand against the back of some long-legged redhead and looking very much alive.

  Sadie James drew in a deep breath. Caught the scent of smoke. Expensive perfume. Sweat.

  I went to that jerk’s funeral. Cried over his grave.

  A grave he didn’t seem to be occupying.

  She’d even taken flowers to the graveside.

  The redhead laughed. Tossed back her head. The man turned, braced his hand against the wall behind her head and leaned in even closer to her.

  Rage had Sadie’s back teeth grinding together.

  She stalked across the bar, elbowing dancing men and women out of her way. Her fingers curled, and a hard fury tightened her body.

  Two years. For two damn years she’d thought he was dead. While he was out there screwing redheads. Redheads who wore really trashy pink dresses.

  He was bent over the woman, his mouth poised over her throat.

  Sadie was going to rip the bastard apart.

  The redhead laughed. A high, tipsy giggle.

  Sadie growled.

  Even though she was still at least ten feet away, and the music blaring from the band jumping on stage was earsplitting, Liam Sullivan stiffened. His dark head snapped up. He spun around, scanning the crowd.

  His eyes, too damn blue and bright for a dead man, locked on her. She saw his stare widen and his lips began to curve into a smile—

  A smile she was going to knock off his still too-handsome face.

  “Liam.” A snarl.

  The ghost of a smile vanished.

  The redhead shifted beside him. “Uh, honey…”

  Oh, no, she did not just call him…

  He glanced back at the redhead. Touched her cheek. “Give me a minute, Sharon.” The Irish whispered beneath the words, softening the vowels, hardening the consonants. Cagey bastard. Usually, he could all but make the soft rolls of his native Ireland disappear from his speech. The Irish was strong, though, when he was angered or aroused. His fingers curved under the redhead’s chin. “Why don’t you go dance?”

  And the chick nodded her head. Walked away without another word.

  What the hell? Had the woman never heard of a backbone before?

  Sadie stalked toward him. Jabbed one finger into his chest. “Hey, asshole. Long time no see.”

  He grunted.

  “Tell me, shouldn’t you be…I don’t know, in a grave somewhere?” She’d put him in o
ne, she’d—

  “You shouldn’t be here.” Weaker accent now, but the vowels were still soft. His gaze swept behind her. “You need to leave, love.”

  Love. Her heart took the hit and her entire body trembled. “I’m not going anywhere.” Not without one hell of an explanation. She’d cried over the bastard. “If you wanted to break up with me, Sullivan, all you had to do was say so.”

  The sex had been great between them. Better than great. Wild. And she was the kind of woman who really, really needed wild.

  They’d been teamed up on an FBI assignment. He’d been a liaison from Ireland, working secretly with them on a hunt for a global killer. She’d never slept with another agent—she didn’t like mixing her business and her play.

  But with Liam…she’d broken all the rules.

  Their first date they’d never even made it out of her place. She’d had him naked in less than five minutes. He’d taken her against the wall in her den and had her coming in one.

  That had just been the beginning.

  He’d been the first human to match her stamina, because matching someone with her unique characteristics was damn hard.

  His nostrils flared as he stared down at her. “Sadie, you don’t—” He broke off, and his eyes widened in surprise. “Your scent…”

  “Oh, great, you’ve been playing dead for two years and now you want to talk about the way I smell?” Her claws were out now. The fury was too strong. Rage, betrayal.

  Dammit, she’d trusted him. The night she’d learned of his death…hell, they’d been planning to meet after his last op. She’d planned to tell him the truth about herself.

  She’d never told a human lover the truth before.

  But Liam, he’d been different—or so she’d thought.

  The lighting in the bar was dim, but she’d never really needed much light to see. His face was just as she’d remembered. Strong, square jaw. Dimple in his chin. Eyes like the skies over his Ireland—so damn blue. Sexy lips, high brow, chiseled cheeks. A nose that had been broken a few times because her Liam hadn’t grown up easy. He’d lived on the streets of Dublin from the time he was eleven until he’d reached seventeen.