by Kit Tunstall
Chapter Ten
Three days after Killian’s surgery, once Hannah had a chance to adjust and recover from her emotionally traumatic scene, to settle into some semblance of a routine, he knew he had to tell her everything. She deserved to know he was a cougar-shifter, and he hoped it wouldn’t drive her away. After everything they’d been through, the idea of losing her over that was almost enough to make him continue hiding it. He couldn’t do it though. She deserved to know everything about him before committing to a future with him. He had to tell her this part so they could move on to the next.
He paced nervously around the living room, and she wore a puzzled expression as she watched him. Knowing he needed to tell her and finding the words to do so were two separate things.
She frowned up at him. “Did you still want to tell me something?”
He paused in mid-step, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at her. “I don’t really want to tell you, but I need to. You have to know everything about me.”
There was a hint of concern in her expression. “What is it, Jackson? You’re scaring me.”
“I don’t want to do that. I hope you know I’d never hurt you. But what I’m about to tell you is going to sound crazy, and then I’m going to show you the proof. When I do, please don’t run screaming from the apartment. Just remember I won’t hurt you.”
She was clearly bewildered, but she nodded. She sounded stoic when she said, “Okay, tell me and show me what you need to. I’m not going anywhere. I’m done running.”
He hoped that was true as he took a deep breath. “I’m a cougar-shifter.”
Her eyes widened, and she stared at him in openmouthed shock. He could see the wheels turning in her brain and almost guess the exact moment she decided he might be mentally unstable. It coincided with a sharp increase in the scent of her pheromones wafting toward him.
He held up his hands in a gesture to show he was harmless. “I know how it sounds, but it’s true. I’m going to show you, and then I’ll explain the best I can.” Without waiting for her confirmation, he quickly shucked off the sweatpants he’d worn in preparation for the big reveal before stripping off his T-shirt and tossing it aside too.
The muscles in his body burned for a moment, but not in an unpleasant way, as he stretched forward to place his palms and feet flat on the floor, turning into the cat as he did so. It was an automatic function, and it required very little active thought on his part. It actually required more control to keep the cat inside than it did to let the cougar out.
She let out a startled gasp and pressed her back into the couch, but she didn’t scramble to her feet or try to run away. He approached her carefully, trying to seem as nonthreatening as possible in his cougar form. He padded to her, his claws clicking on the laminate flooring as he edged around the coffee table and compacted his lithe frame between it and the couch so he could put his paw gently on her leg, careful to keep his claws from extending and hurting her.
He purred as he laid his head on her other leg, reassured when she lifted a hand to stroke his fur after a brief hesitation. He rubbed his cheek against her for a moment, marking her as his as he imparted his pheromones into her skin before pulling back and changing to his human form again.
He was naked, but didn’t reach for his clothes, which he’d tossed on the chair across the room. He was too intent on her reaction to care about modesty.
She was still clearly shocked, but at least she wasn’t screaming in fear. “How did this happen? Is it some kind of magic?” She asked the question with evident skepticism, but clearly unable to think of another explanation.
He grinned at her, flashing his white teeth, which were no longer elongated now that he had shifted back. “It’s simply science and evolution. Shifters have a different gene than Homo sapiens that allows us to shift into our form. Shifters further evolved into other subspecies, but we’re still genetically almost identical to Homo sapiens. It’s literally the difference of one gene.”
She blinked, seeming to have a moment where she couldn’t take it all in, and then her expression cleared. “That’s interesting. It’s completely insane, and if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I’d be certain you needed a long stay in a padded room, but I can’t deny what I saw or felt.” She curled her hand into a fist, as though recalling the feel of his fur against her fingers. “I assume it isn’t contagious, since it’s a genetic abnormality?”
He stiffened slightly. “It’s not a disease, and it isn’t contagious. It’s just a slight difference. There’s nothing to cure, and there’s nothing abnormal about it.”
Her eyes widened, and she lifted a hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. I didn’t ask that in the best way, I guess.”
He let out a small sigh. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. It was a valid question, but I know I’m not the only shifter who’s sensitive to the idea that we might be some kind of freak. We’re just a different branch of evolution.”
She nodded. “I get that. So, when do you start changing into a cougar? I mean, is it from the day you’re born?”
He shook his head. “That comes with puberty. You can start hearing your cat inside your head then too. It’s not exactly like a verbal communication, but more a sense of sharing your headspace with someone else. The first few years when an animal-shifter hits puberty can be rough as they try to find a balance between the animal and the human side, but I have it under control now.”
She looked a little shaky, but she was smiling. “And I thought human puberty was rough.”
He couldn’t help the intensity as he lifted her hand and asked, “Are you okay with this?” There wasn’t much he could do if she wasn’t, besides try to assure her he’d never hurt her, but he knew at least a few other friends who’d lost partners they cared about when revealing the truth. It could be a lot for someone to take in, especially if they had no idea about shifters’ existence before falling in love with one.
She nodded. “We’re fine. I actually find it reassuring. It makes me feel even safer with you than I did before. It’s also kind of sexy.”
He arched a brow. “You find the cougar sexy?”
She shook her head. “No, not the animal himself…yourself? I’m not sure how to phrase that. I just meant to know that there’s this wild, untamed side of you makes me feel safe, and the edge of danger’s kind of sexy. It’s that whole bad boy phenomenon.”
Jackson laughed. “Other than my briefly misspent youth, I’ve never been a bad boy in my life. I was always a clean-cut type. I graduated the police academy at the top of my class and made detective before I was thirty. It was just too much though. Too much violence, and too many criminals working the system to avoid any meaningful punishment. I walked away from it all when Lucas offered me a partnership in his security firm, but I still maintain my disgustingly clean-cut outlook, and a sharp delineation between right and wrong, good or evil.”
Hannah snuggled against him as she put her arms around him, laying her head against his chest. “That’s the part that makes me feel safe. Knowing you could be dangerous, but would never use that ability to hurt anyone, makes you sexy. You’re like my own guardian cougar.”
He growled low in his throat as his cock started to stiffen. “I’m not sure you’re safe from me at the moment, so you’d better pull back. We both know you can’t do anything yet, and I wouldn’t want to hurt you.”
She licked her lips as she glanced at his lap suggestively before looking up at him again. “I could do something.”
With a small grunt of surrender, he leaned back and allowed her to show him exactly what, losing himself in the pleasure of her mouth while forgetting all about his other plan for the moment.
It was only several minutes later, when she’d pulled back and was discreetly wiping her lips, that he remembered what else he’d planned to tell her that night. He took her hand in his, folding it and placing it against his heart, which still beat rapidly from his release. “I love you, Hannah.
”
She hesitated for just a second before nodding. “I love you too. It scares me sometimes, especially after what Cromwell did to me, but I don’t want to live in the past or trapped at his mercy, subjugated by memories of what he did. As much as it frightens me sometimes, I couldn’t not love you even if I wanted to.”
“I don’t have a ring or anything, because I didn’t really think this through, but I’d like you to marry me. I want to make our family official before we bring home Killian in a couple of weeks.”
Her eyes widened, but this time she didn’t hesitate. “I’d be happy to marry you, Jackson. I’m certain you make me happy, and I’ll do the same for you, or do my best anyway. Did you want to get married before we bring him home?”
He nodded. “If we can make it happen, I’d like to.”
Her eyes gleamed. “I think we’re within driving distance of Vegas, aren’t we?”
“Yes,” he said with a purr of satisfaction. “Yes, we are.”
***
It was several hours later before they arrived in Vegas, and they had to wait for the marriage license office to open before they could get the official documents and go to one of the chapels on The Strip. They chose a small one that looked fairly tasteful from the outside, though was completely different on the inside. Hannah giggled when she saw the Vegas memorabilia inside, focusing heavily on the Rat Pack, along with an entire wall devoted to Elvis, like a mini shrine.
The receptionist who greeted them and signed them in was dressed like Marilyn Monroe. It was the strangest conglomeration and mishmash of icons she’d seen when she saw the other attendants on the wall. There were pictures of their celebrants, along with framed certificates alluding to their legal ability to perform marriages in Nevada.
“Who would you like to marry you today?” asked Marilyn. She waved to the wall. “I’m afraid Dean Martin isn’t on shift, and only one of our Elvises is available.”
Hannah giggled again at the absurdity of it before pointing to the picture of a black man with a strong resemblance to Sammy Davis Jr. “I’ve always liked Sammy myself.”
Jackson seemed to share her amusement, and it was evident in his voice when he agreed. “Sammy sounds good to me.”
Marilyn looked at her book before nodding. “Excellent. He’s finishing up a ceremony now, but you can have the next spot. A ceremony takes about fifteen minutes. In the meantime, would you like to look at jewelry or wedding attire?” She pointed to a locked case displaying rings beside her before waving her hand to her room marked “Clothing” on the sign above it.
Hannah was fine getting married and her white capris and gauzy pink top, and apparently, Jackson was content with his khakis and polo, because neither one of them ventured into the room where they could find wedding attire considered appropriate by this chapel. She wondered if she’d find a white dress similar to Marilyn’s in there.
Together, by unspoken agreement, they moved to examine the jewelry in the case. Everything seemed a little overpriced, but most of the pieces were surprisingly tasteful, and there was only one row of really gaudy items that she barely even glanced at. Together, they chose a set that included two wedding bands and an engagement ring with a single solitaire diamond.
When Marilyn started to ring up their purchase, she reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. Brandon had retrieved her items for her from somewhere, though she doubted he’d flown all the way to Miami to get them. Perhaps they’d been in storage somewhere after her landlord had closed out her apartment in Los Angeles. She’d been too deep in her emotional disconnection to ask him questions the day he brought her identification and credit cards, but now she was glad to have them as she plunked down a black American Express. “I want to pay for his wedding ring.”
Jackson didn’t argue, and Marilyn seemed to have no trouble splitting the purchases. Less than five minutes later, the jewelry was theirs. Jackson took the engagement ring from the box and got down on one knee in the middle of the garish reception area. “Will you marry me?”
“Of course I will. I haven’t changed my mind between San Diego and Vegas.”
He cast a doubtful eye around them, shooting a glance at Marilyn, who seemed to be busy doing something, before saying, “This place might be enough to change anyone’s mind.”
She laughed as he slid the ring on her finger. “It’ll take more than celebrity impersonators and the tackiest wedding chapel in history to ruin our day.”
Things moved quickly after that, and before she knew it, she stood in front of the imitation Sammy Davis Jr., promising to be Jackson’s loyal and loving partner as he did the same. They exchanged “I dos” and kisses before Marilyn blinded them with several flashes from her camera.
With two signatures on the marriage license, followed by Sammy’s, whose real name was actually Andrew Arkinson, according to the marriage license, they were officially wed. It was the strangest ceremony she’d never even thought to imagine, but as they stepped out into the warm morning sunshine nearly an hour after entering the chapel, her hand entwined with his, she realized it was the perfect wedding. It was something they’d never forget, and the most important thing was it had bound them together permanently.
“Would you like to stay over?”
She shook her head. “If you feel like the drive back, I just want to get home. I don’t like being so far away from Killian.”
He nodded his agreement. “We’ll grab Starbucks and hit the road. The honeymoon can wait.”
She nodded, reluctantly accepting the wedding night would definitely have to wait until she had her first checkup with the obstetrician. Even without a stirring round of sex to seal the deal, she felt completely bonded with and married to Jackson. They were almost a family now completely, and as soon as Killian came home from the hospital, they’d all be together.
Chapter Eleven
Thirteen days later, at twenty-four days old, Killian was released from the hospital. He was still small and fragile, but other than the brain bleed, he’d had remarkably few complications for his age. They settled into a routine as Hannah and Jackson slowly figured out their parenting role. It was difficult, and there wasn’t enough sleep to go around, but less than a week after bringing him home, Hannah realized she’d never been happier.
It was after nine o’clock when the doorbell rang. She was nursing Killian and looked over to Jackson beside her, with his arm draped behind her shoulders. “Are you expecting someone?”
He shook his head. “No, and it’s kind of late for salespeople. It might be Mrs. Henning.” He mock shuddered.
She laughed at that, though she tended to agree. Mrs. Henning was the neighbor two apartments down, and since they’d brought home Killian, the woman had complained at least five times about the baby’s crying. She and Jackson were already discussing moving into a house, but she really didn’t want to deal with more of Henning’s complaints tonight, especially since Killian hadn’t uttered a peep in the last hour or so.
As Jackson reached the front door, it suddenly burst open, crashing inward and colliding with him. He fell backward, landing on his butt with a grunt. Before Hannah could grasp exactly what had happened, two familiar faces entered the apartment. She started to tremble when she recognized Sharp and Owens, both goons who’d worked for Theo Cromwell as his personal bodyguards. If they were here, he had to be here as well.
She let out a small scream when Sharp removed a gun from his pocket holster and shot Jackson in the chest. She started to get up and run to him, but remembering she held Killian, she kept the urge in check. Instead, she carefully removed him from her breast and laid him on the floor, figuring it was the safest place for him.
She righted her top as she looked at Jackson, her heart thundering with fear. He’d slumped to the floor, and there was enough blood surrounding him to make her certain he had died from the impact. She whimpered at the thought, her heart tearing in two at the idea of losing her husband.
When Cromwell steppe
d into the apartment, her grief took a backseat to rage. She couldn’t even feel fear for a moment as she stared at the loathsome face of the architect of so much suffering. She wanted to hurl herself across the room and beat him with her fists, but she forced herself to remain still. His goons had guns, and she didn’t, but she vowed to herself if she had the opportunity, she would kill Cromwell herself.
He stepped over Jackson’s body with disdain, his lip curled in disgust. “Honestly, Hannah, you left me for that?” He sounded bewildered, and his eyes sparkled with anger that promised retribution for her escape.
“I left you because I was never with you by my choice. You’re a kidnapping psychopath. I just happened to luck out and find Jackson when I escaped from you.”
He stiffened, his anger clearly growing. His fingers moved to his waist, caressing his leather belt in a threatening fashion. “You clearly need a reminder about respect and your place.”
The memory of his belt across her back made her flinch, but she stood her ground. She couldn’t afford to back down or submit. It wasn’t just her she had to think about now. She had Killian to protect from this monster, and if Jackson survived, she had him to live for as well. She wouldn’t allow him to take her back to the yacht and keep her as his prisoner. She didn’t reply, but she squared her shoulders as he came closer, bracing herself for the moment when he was within touching distance.
She expected him to slap her, but instead, he lifted his hand and cupped her cheek. Air hissed from between her teeth, and she reared back. “Don’t touch me.”
He scowled. “You definitely need a lesson. You were such a good girl, but look what you’ve become.”
His words bolstered her courage, underscoring how different she was from the scared young woman she had been when he first kidnapped her. She was braver now, and she had far more to lose by submitting to Cromwell. Part of her bravery came from the urge to protect her baby, and part of it was simply determination not to yield to him.
His eyes flickered, but his expression betrayed nothing as he stared at her. “Where’s my son?”