Into the Heart 3: Into the Wild

by Caitlyn Willows

  A small line appeared between her eyebrows. “Horny…I've never understood…” Her green eyes widened. “Oh…horny.” She pointed at Jeremy's penis. “Like that forms a horn. Hard as a bone. Oh…a boner. And then woody. Now I get it.”

  “Yes, Lups. Just like that. Enough, please.” Even the mention made Cristían hard again.

  Steven's smell changed from human to cat. The roof creaked under his weight. Considering the trigger-happy vigilantes living in the neighborhood, shifting was the worst thing Steven could have done.

  Cristían grabbed Lupe's shirt and pants and shoved them into her arms on his way to the door. “We've got to get him inside before someone sees him.”

  A shot rang out before Cristían could wrap his hand around the doorknob. A yowl and thud followed. Steven tumbled down the roof; claws screeched over the clay tiles. Nails on a chalkboard paled in comparison. Cristían ran in the direction of his fall, foolishly hoping to be able to brace his impact and prevent further injury. Steven landed first, on all fours, and shifted back to human form, glaring up at him. Blood dripped from the through and through wound a hair above his collarbone.

  “What the fuck! Did you shoot me?” Steven tried to stand but toppled backward instead.

  Cristían squatted next to him. “No. The neighbor behind us has a hard-on for killing big cats. He's probably coming all over himself right now, thinking he finally got one.” He grabbed Steven's bicep and wrapped an arm around his back. “Let's get you inside. You might also want to consider making clothes on yourself. If this jerk comes over, I don't want to have to come up with an excuse for having a naked man on my roof.”

  Steven formed jeans and footwear. “And he'll believe a man was on your roof?”

  “When he finds out he shot someone and I threaten to call the cops to report his ass, he'll believe me. Besides, I'm hoping the tree shadows camouflaged you.”

  “The man shot without a good sight? Idiot.”

  “I wouldn't throw stones if I were you. You're the one who shifted and climbed up there without knowing 'the lay of the land,' so to speak.”

  Jeremy hurried out with a towel compress, then braced Steven on the other side. Lupe, her wide gaze focused on the shadows, held the door open for them. She didn't back away until they were safely inside. Then she locked the door and seated the dead bolt.

  “All the draperies are closed. Windows and doors locked.” She perched on the edge of the coffee table.

  “Let's take a look.”

  “Let's not.” Steven slapped his hand over the compress.

  Cristían leveled a no-bullshit stare at the man. “If you're trying to hide your enhanced healing abilities, or lack thereof, don't bother. The mystery's long over. Lupe's bite to Frieda's ass answered all.” It had taken a long time to heal.

  “Well, you know what they say”—Steven shrugged his good shoulder—“bite wounds are the worse.” Blood seeped into the light blue towel beneath his white-knuckled grip. Shock paled his suntanned features.

  “Care to tell us why you were spying on us?” Jeremy held out a second towel.

  Steven stared at it for a few seconds, then accepted it. “I wasn't spying. I wanted to make sure you were safe. I don't exactly trust certain members of my clan after the incident today. Your people have the estate guarded, so I wasn't worried about them breaking into the lab and ransacking the place. But the three of you…” He lifted the bloodied towel for a peek, winced, put it aside, and pressed the clean one over the wound.

  “So your plan was to sleep on the roof all night?”

  “I jumped up to do a quick scan while the three of you were occupied,” he snapped. “I thought you'd be too busy to notice I was here.”

  “A mountain lion ate someone's Chihuahua a couple of months ago. Neighbors have been lying in wait for the cat ever since. I understand before that, it was coyotes,” Cristían said. “I'm surprised someone's not over here to claim victory and have your head mounted on their wall. Which probably means whoever did it realized they'd shot a person and are scared shitless the police are going to lock them up.”

  “No police,” Steven muttered.

  “The police will get involved the minute someone reports the shot. They'll call paramedics—”

  “No doctor.”

  Jeremy leaned in close. Steven had no choice but to look at him. “What would you like us to do with your body when you bleed to death? Do you think your people will honestly believe we didn't do it?”

  Cristían slipped his hand over Steven's uninjured shoulder. “You came here tonight to protect us. Trust us enough now to help you.”

  Steven closed his eyes on a sigh. Weariness poured off him. He sagged a little, then opened his eyes and peeled off the compress. The bullet had torn through the thick muscle along the top of his shoulder but looked like it missed bone. Cristían probed it gently. The blood flow wouldn't allow him a clear view.

  “You need medical care. You know the institute has its own medical facility. Let us take you there.” He pressed yet another towel Jeremy gave him over the wound.

  “No.” Steven shook his head. The movement took effort; he grew weaker by the second. “Too many questions. No answers to give.”

  Lupe touched his knees, drawing his attention. “You'll die if you don't get help.”

  “I know.” He struggled to stand. Jeremy's hand on his other shoulder held him easily in the chair. “Please,” he said. “Help me get to my car. I'll put a glamour over the wound long enough to get home.”

  “And who's going to help you there?” Cristían added pressure to the wound, wincing when Steven did. “I believe Frieda would kill you just to say we did it.”

  Steven actually smiled. “She would. No doubt about that. But there are those who are on my side. Her numbers are few; they just happen to be the loudest. She's grown increasingly irrational the last several months. If I can get home, there will be someone to help me.”

  “And if you can't?” Lupe asked.

  He tried another smile that didn't work. “Maybe I'll get killed in a car accident, and that'll take care of all other questions.”

  “And risk killing an innocent person?” Jeremy's voice was one level below shouting.

  Steven pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. Desperation talking.”

  “I'll take you home.” Cristían didn't know what else to suggest.

  “I don't think he'll make it, Cristían,” Jeremy said.

  “His glow is dimming.” Lupe rested her palms on Steven's knees and looked up at Cristían. “Help him heal.” Tears caught on her lower lashes, looking like tiny diamonds.

  The answer was simple and yet far-fetched. What else did they have to lose? Steven was fading while they stood there and debated, so far out of it, the chances of his remembering anything were slim. Cristían hoped.

  He strode into position behind the man, sprung a claw, and held it over his wrist.

  Jeremy grabbed his arm. “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to save his life by giving him my blood. If it heals me, it might heal him.”

  Logic and emotion warred in Jeremy's expression. “Try it on me first.”

  “What are you going to do? Slice open a vein and hope I can seal it?”

  “Isn't that what you're getting ready to do to yourself? We don't know for certain if what you experienced earlier was a fluke or the real deal.”

  “We're out of options, Jeremy. He sure as hell won't make it back to his place, not at the rate he's fading. We could wait until he passes out and take him to the institute facility, at which point, all hell will break loose because he won't make it there either. I can't let him die, not if there's a chance I can save him.”

  “It could be a trap to out you.”

  Cristían hadn't considered that. They already knew Frieda's faction wasn't above using dirty tricks and force to get what they wanted, but would Steven be willing to sacrifice his life? Maybe he didn't know that's what he was doing. Maybe he was anot
her pawn in Frieda's rebellion. One fact remained: Cristían couldn't let the man die. Lupe trusted what she sensed in Steven, and Cristían trusted Lupe.

  “How's he doing?” he asked her.

  She flicked her gaze up. More diamond tears fell. “Fading in and out but aware.”

  “Too aware,” Steven mumbled. “I can remember the days when a wound like this was nothing more annoying than a splinter.”

  “Ah yes, the vagaries of age.” Cristían traced his claw over his vein.

  “I'd laugh if I had the energy.” Steven struggled to stand again. Lupe refused to budge. Petite though she was, she was enough of an obstacle to keep him in place.

  “I have to try.”

  Jeremy nodded. “I'll lift the compress when you're ready.”

  There wasn't much sense in trying to distract Steven. It'd only waste time and bring attention to what Cristían was doing. He pierced his vein. A single drop of blood appeared before the wound closed, entrapping his claw. Cristían pulled it free.

  “I guess that answers one question. Be ready.”

  Jeremy gently nudged Steven's hand away from the compress. “Let me see how it's doing.”

  Cristían held his arm over the wound. The instant Jeremy peeled the towel back, he ripped his claw up his arm. Dark red drops—thick and flecked with gold shimmers—plopped into the gaping hole. The slice in Cristían's arm zipped closed. The only hint he'd been cut at all was the residue on his claw.

  Steven gasped. “What the fuck did—”

  No one moved or spoke. They watched as a lacy web of skin, muscle, and shimmering blood spread out and burrowed into the exit wound. Five minutes later, there was no sign Steven had ever been shot. His skin tone returned to the sun-rich glow.

  “What did you do?”

  Cristían jerked back. Jeremy's wide eyes matched Lupe's. Steven hadn't verbalized the words.

  You've created a monster. Cristían damned the voice in his head. Only you can destroy it. Pain stabbed his temple. He covered his eyes against the blinding white light. His knees buckled, and he felt himself fall. Jeremy caught him before he hit the floor. Steven jumped up to help ease him down. Then Lupe's worried face swam into view.

  “What happened?” Steven asked. “What did he do? What is he?”

  Skinwalker, another voice hissed out. Skin…walker.

  The void opened. Cristían leaped for it. It spun away from him in a swirling vortex of gold and indigo, taunting him with information it wanted him to have but refused to yield. Damn it, he'd chase it if he had to.

  “Don't leave us.” Lupe's voice pierced his rage and frustration. The weight of her body warmed him, her fingers feathering over his chest and face. Her hair tickled his skin; then he felt her cheek pressed against his chest.

  Cristían pulled in a deep breath and slipped his fingers into her hair, holding the lifeline she'd tossed his way. “I won't, little one. I won't.” Then he turned his mindspeak to Jeremy and didn't give a damn if Steven heard. “Remember your promise.”

  Steven's “What the fuck?” drowned out any response Jeremy gave.

  * * * *

  Jeremy wondered if his heartbeat would ever return to normal. Cristían lay on the sofa, an ice compress over his forehead, Lupe by his side. Steven had retreated to the bathroom. Jeremy felt sick inside and more than a little stupid.

  What good was having Mensa-level intelligence if he couldn't use it when he needed it most? Remember his promise? He wished to hell he could forget it, or at least pretend he didn't have a clue what Cristían meant. Instead he racked his brain, trying to remember everything he'd ever read about the skinwalkers. Nothing came.

  It wasn't necessary to ask Cristían if the pain in his head had subsided. Jeremy felt the edges of it stabbing through Cristían's skull, and with it frustration and fear. “I think I'd better check on Steven.”

  “I'm not going anywhere.” Cristían patted his stomach.

  “I'm not a cat, you know,” Lupe told him. Still, she crawled on top of him and settled with a sigh.

  “I know,” he muttered and idly combed his fingers through her hair.

  Jeremy envied him the comfort. If it weren't for Steven, he'd be pulling them both into the bedroom for the night. Hell, for the week! Or maybe he'd carry them far away from all this crap and drama. He had money he'd never touched. They'd manage quite nicely on it. Someplace isolated enough they could run wild and free when the need arose. He huffed a sad laugh. The rest of the clan would never allow it. Safety in numbers and all that. The implants in every jaguar's head made it easy to find each member. The clan had them inserted shortly after they'd realized they'd lost track of Carmen. He wondered if he and Lupe would be pressured to have one now.

  Lupe lifted her head as he turned to walk away. “He smells different.”

  Jeremy's heart skipped a beat. “Cristían?”

  “Steven,” she replied. “Not bad, just different.”

  “I'll keep that in mind.” If the son of a bitch could take the appearance of another and make it seem like he was wearing clothes that weren't really there, he could fake injury. That didn't explain all the blood, though. Where were those bloodied towels? Jeremy hadn't seen them since he'd left to make the ice pack for Cristían. A quick analysis of the blood could fill in a lot of gaps about the mountain lions. Steven wouldn't have risked it. He'd probably hidden the towels under his fake clothing.

  That might explain his smelling different. Lupe's nose missed little. The rest of them had been too led astray by the constant flood of pheromones. Maybe it was time to do a little sniff test of his own.

  Steven stood in front of the bathroom mirror, poking his shoulder for signs of injury. He frowned at his reflection and flexed his shoulder.

  “Still primping, I see.” Jeremy leaned against the doorjamb.

  Steven glared Jeremy's way. “What the hell did you people do to me?”

  “Saved your life?”

  “And I get the feeling it was against your wishes, judging from your reactions.”

  “Yes.”

  Steven let loose a halfhearted chuckle. “There are some revelations best left thought and unspoken. At least I know where your loyalties lie.”

  “You're an idiot if you didn't already realize that.”

  “You saved my life, but at what cost?” He brushed his fingers over his shoulder.

  “At great cost to Cristían, but I doubt that matters to you. I didn't want him to do it. Cristían couldn't let you die. Then Lupe started in on how good you smell…” He strolled up to Steven's side and sniffed him up, smiling when the hairs on Steven's arm lifted on goose bumps. “Hmm…not bad. Guess it's a woman thing.”

  “Back away.” Steven leaned to one side. “I don't trust you this close.”

  “And I don't trust you at all.” Jeremy gave him the distance he'd requested.

  “Good, then you'll understand why I'm taking these.” He lifted a white plastic bag from the toilet lid. The blood-soaked towels showed through.

  Jeremy braced his shoulder against the wall, barring Steven's only exit. “He saved your life, and now you're stealing his towels?”

  “My blood, my towels.”

  Which more or less verified what they already knew—the mountain lions fiercely guarded any and all biological information about themselves. “Other than our sweat, you won't find anything about us you don't already know, if that's why you're taking them,” Jeremy countered, even though he suspected differently.

  Steven snorted. “Oh I'd say there's a lot about you people we don't know. Cristían can heal. Lupe isn't truly a calico cat. And you're one of them.” Another snort. “All this time, I thought you were their mascot. Though in hindsight, that's ridiculous, since they do have humans working for them. At least I presumed everyone's human. Full disclosure was part of the treaty, but then…we all withheld things.”

  Was he pointing fingers or admitting his clan hadn't been forthcoming?

  “Maybe you were always a jagua
r and just kept it a secret.” He made direct eye contact for the first time that night. “Like you kept something else a secret.”

  Jeremy wouldn't deny the obvious. “And how many secrets have you been keeping?”

  Steven's mouth twisted. The hint of a fang peeked between his lips. Jeremy replied by extending his claws.

  “What else have you changed about me?” Steven asked.

  “How do I know, when I know nothing about you? As for the mindspeak, you could have had the ability all along and are just pissed that the veil's lifted and we can hear each other. Trust me; it's just as much a detriment to my clan as it is to yours.”

  “There's that word again…trust.” Steven pulled his control in, settling his beast.

  Jeremy stayed ready. Steven's clothing was an illusion; he could shift at the blink of an eye. Jeremy wouldn't be caught defenseless. He prayed he had enough control to shift his hands and leave the rest human.

  “I came here tonight to ensure your safety—”

  Jeremy burst out with a feigned laugh. “You came here tonight to spy on us. I'm still trying to decide if the gunshot was a planned diversion or some trigger-happy neighbor. Either way, you're leaving with your life and an apparently new ability.”

  “And you'd better hope I don't leave here with anything else.” A snarl underlined Steven's words.

  “As far as I'm concerned, it's too much. If you even hint to another soul that Cristían has the ability to heal—”

  “You'll kill me?” Steven snickered.

  “Without hesitation. You're lucky I'm letting you walk out the door.”

  “Brave talk for someone who was human twenty-four hours ago. Makes me question how new a shifter you really are.” He flicked out a claw and aimed it at Jeremy's chest. Jeremy blocked him, a move so fast, it shocked them both.

  A slow smile covered Steven's surprise. “And there's the proof.”

  “Wouldn't you do anything to protect someone you loved? Amazing how strong that makes a person…or a shifter. I doubt you'd understand.”

  Anger swept over Steven's face. “You smart-assed son of a bitch.” He lengthened his claws and showed fang.