by Sam Crescent
I blink, startled. Weylin is staring at me.
“Yeah,” I lie. “It’s this damn heat, choking me. Who the hell has an outdoor wedding in the middle of July?”
“Shut. Up.” Rafe growls under his breath, loud enough I’m pretty sure the closest row of people seated in front of us hears him. Our mom glances up and gives Rafe such a hostile look of warning his face flushes fire-engine red.
The music starts, a cheerful, classical piano score that sets my teeth on edge.
It’s going to be a long, long night.
I straighten and force myself to smile. I mean, I’m happy for my brother and Corina. I really am. They’ve been through more than any other couple I know.
There’s a murmur of rustling as all the wedding guests stand. The music gets louder and that’s when Corina enters. She’s even more beautiful than usual. I try not to imagine a different woman walking down that aisle, toward me—a woman with long, lush hair the color of coffee and almond eyes so deep and inviting you forget your own name when you stare into them.
The ceremony starts. Rings are exchanged. I try to pay attention, but I keep catching myself mindlessly staring off at nothing, pretending I’m watching.
Memories keep intruding. Her eyes. Night after night, nothing but her and me on my bed. My name on her lips, crying out…
She was mine for almost three years. Three. Years. I thought it was enough. I thought she was ready. I was dead wrong.
“And now, I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Ulric!” the officiant announces, hands spread wide over Rafe and Corina.
Everybody stands, clapping and whooping.
The happy bride and groom disappear into a throng of well-wishers. Bride and Groom. Wife and Husband.
A tide of envy rises over me. I’m going to drown in it.
“Come on, man. It’s our turn.” Weylin puts an arm around my shoulder and drags me with him into the throng of people. “We’ve gotta do our groomsmen duties. Photos, speeches, all that stuff.”
Weylin and me, we’re pretty tight. He’s the only one who knows what I’m dealing with today. It’s not like I enjoy talking to people about … about her.
The Only One.
God, I can’t even say her name.
“Come on,” he says, clapping me on the back. “It’s an open bar.”
Weylin’s crooked smile is contagious and makes me feel a little better. I can do this, I decide. I’m strong enough to get over Her.
We get through all the meet-and-greets, the photos, the speeches, the cake-cutting.
And then it happens.
I’m on my way into the reception tent. The canopy is lit with amber-colored lights, fending off the dimness that comes with early dusk. I’m heading to the bar, thinking about how I’m going to die a miserable death if I don’t get a drink in my hand right now.
It’s the voice that freezes me in my tracks. From somewhere behind me, I hear it.
“Hey, Channing.”
I stop, close my eyes, reeling from the shock of it, allowing that smooth, smoky silk of her voice to soak into my skin and imprint into my memory. I must be hallucinating. Obsession is a terrible, unhealthy thing.
But then I hear the shuffle of steps through the grass and I feel the presence of someone standing in front of me. Goddamn it. It can’t be…
I open my eyes. My heart stops. My breath stills.
The Only Woman.
Tala.
Chapter Two
Tala
It’s the look in his eyes that’s to blame. He didn’t see me and he wouldn’t have if I’d kept my mouth shut. But when I saw his face—those unearthly green eyes of his brimming with so much unchecked pain—I couldn’t help it.
It’s all your fault, Tala. My guilt over breaking it off with Channing has mutated into a monstrous thing. I can’t even shift into my coyote form without thinking of him, though it’s been more than a year since we’ve even had a conversation.
“Hey,” he returns my greeting, his voice devoid of emotion—a dramatic contrast from the ravaged expression on his face.
“I’m sure you didn’t expect to see me here,” I say, trying to fake a nonchalance I don’t feel.
“Well … yeah,” he says, his gaze raking across my body. I know he’s studying my uniform, wondering what the hell the local chief of police is doing at his brother’s wedding.
“I’m here to keep an eye on things, is all. Relax,” I tell him, before he can ask. It’s not a lie, but it’s not the entire truth.
His eyes narrow, his brow furrowing—I know that look. He’s not going to leave it alone.
“Keep an eye on things? What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug. I don’t want him to know, at least not yet. If I tell him the truth—that notorious murderer and shifter-hunter Bryce Holter has escaped from prison, Channing will get involved and he’ll get hurt.
And that is exactly why I broke up with him—because I knew, with my job and his overprotectiveness, eventually he’d get himself killed.
When I tried to explain this to him, well … it went over like a lead balloon.
“Your brother sent me a wedding invite, anyway,” I say, trying to veer the conversation into safer territory. When Rafe’s new human wife Corina accidentally shot him last summer, mistaking him for a feral coyote, I was the one who tidied everything up with the authorities and made sure no one stumbled onto Rafe’s secret. Besides, his secret belongs to all of us—Channing, Weylin, their parents, a few others in the community. Me, of course. I’m glad my parents are still living out west, where I grew up, so there’ll be two fewer shifters to worry about now with Bryce Holter running around out here somewhere.
“Wait. Rafe invited you?” Channing spits the words out.
I pause for a second, reminding myself to act casual. “Well, yeah,” I say. “I figured it couldn’t hurt to drop by for a minute, right?”
Channing flinches, his thick eyelashes sweeping down as he shifts his attention to the ground between us. My breath hitches and catches in my throat. I’ve hurt him too much by showing up here. I should’ve thought of that but—shit. I’ve been too busy chasing down Bryce Holter to think of much of anything else—including how Channing would feel about seeing me at a wedding.
“I’m so sorry, Channing, I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry—”
“Don’t.” He snaps his gaze up again, piercing me with those pain-ravaged eyes. “Don’t waste your empty words on me, Tala. If you’re so sorry, why didn’t you say yes to me when I asked you to marry me?”
And there it is. He’ll never forgive me for turning him down.
“I told you, Channing. My job is dangerous. I’ve pissed off too many psychos. Marrying me would be dangerous for you.”
He blinks at me, looking stunned. “Tala. Look at me. Do you honestly think I can’t take care of myself? I can take care of both of us.”
He outstretches his arms as if he needs to show me how well-muscled he is. Even through the layers of his suit, his biceps are visible and defined. “No one is going to touch you, not with me around.”
“Your strength won’t protect you from a bullet, Channing. You know better than that.”
“I’m not my brother. You’re not going to shoot me, are you?” His tone is slightly teasing, but there’s a rawness to it, a delicate balance between trust and mistrust. I get it, but he doesn’t seem to understand my logic. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to.
“If you’re so worried about the dangers of your job, you should quit. I can take care of us, Tala.”
“I can’t settle down and play house, Channing, and you know it. I love my work.”
“More than you love—loved me.”
I’m not going to play into this. It’s not like that and he knows it. I love my job, I love helping people. And I loved—love him, and that love is the reason I want to protect him by keeping him away from me.
“We were great together, Tala.”
“I know
.”
“We could be again.”
He hasn’t moved on, not at all. I hadn’t heard otherwise from anyone, but being here, in front of him, hearing him say these things—there’s a whisper of doubt, of regret murmuring in my conscience.
“No, Channing. I—”
There’s a crackle in the radio clipped to my duty belt. I hurriedly push the button before he can hear anything. The media will know about Bryce Holter by now, but as long as Channing is at this wedding and doesn’t do any browsing on his phone, he’ll have no idea until he gets home and turns on the news.
I glance back up at Channing and try not to look him in the eye. He’s already suspicious, I can tell. “I have to go now, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I get it.” There’s a simmering anger in his voice, and I know it’s not my needing to leave that’s pissed him off.
“Bye, Channing.”
I don’t know what else to say. I turn to go and suddenly his arms are around me, my face pressed into the rough stubble of his cheek, his strong hands firm against my back, holding me tight against him. He smells of cedar and sandalwood. The familiarity of it, saturated in memory, takes my breath away. I don’t even try to pull away.
And then his lips are on mine, a warm, gentle, tentative kiss.
“I miss you, Tala.” His voice is a harsh whisper.
There’s a lump in my throat, choking me. Responding to him is impossible.
My police radio crackles again. “I need to go,” I manage to say, pushing away from his embrace. “I’m so sorry.”
He releases me and I go, walking as fast as I can without running toward my police cruiser.
“Tala,” he calls out to me, but I don’t turn back. I can’t.
Chapter Three
Channing
There is no way in hell the woman has me fooled. Something is wrong. Big time. You’d think she’d be a better liar, watching criminals lie all the time. She’s a fine cop, but damn.
Maybe it’s just that no one knows her like I do. She’s mine. She always will be, no matter what she does with her life. And there is no way she’s staying home alone tonight, not with whatever’s going on out there, making her lie badly to me.
I glance at my watch. It’s ten PM. Late enough to duck out of this wedding.
I head out to my truck parked in the lot beyond the tent. The reception music—some godawful pop song someone must’ve requested—follows me as I make my escape into the darkness. I think I’m free and clear when I catch movement coming from under Rafe’s truck, which is parked next to mine.
I freeze, suddenly remembering Tala’s police radio trying to tell her something she didn’t want me to hear. My instincts click into overdrive, the coyote under my skin champing at the bit, demanding release. I shut out the music, focusing on the scents and sounds around me.
And then the shadow under the truck emerges. I lower myself to the ground, preparing to shift and fight if I have to.
“Relax, man. It’s me.”
Weylin. It’s just Weylin.
“What the fuck are you doing under Rafe’s truck?” I ask, my voice edgy with adrenaline.
Weylin stands up, and it’s then I see he’s holding string and a bunch of empty soda cans. “It’s a wedding, remember?” He shrugs, the cans rattling against each other. “We’ve gotta get the truck ready for their send off. Here,” he says, dropping the string and pulling a can of silly string from his pants pocket. “Help me out, would you? Cover as much of the truck as you can.”
He tosses me the can, but I toss it back to him. “Can’t. I’ve got to get out of here.”
Even in the dim of early nighttime, I can see the expression of pity on his face. It stirs something in me—not anger, I think. Determination. “It’s not the wedding. Tala was here, just a couple minutes ago.”
Weylin stares, his eyes wide. “What? Why?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. She was hiding something though. I’m headed out to her place, to keep an eye on her.”
“Keep an eye on her? You think she’s in danger?”
“I don’t know. All I know is that I need to make sure she’s okay.”
Weylin narrows his eyes at me, his jaw set in an expression I know well. He may be the youngest of us, but he’s a mirror of our father and was born with an old soul.
“Be careful, Channing. I mean it.”
“I will,” I say, and I do mean it. I have a plan.
****
I drive to her house, hoping she hasn’t moved to a different place since we broke up. But no, about a quarter mile away, I can make out her police cruiser in the driveway. I don’t want her to know I’m here, so I pull over onto a rural side road and ease my truck between some pines, hiding it from view. If she shifts tonight, she’ll know I’m here. I can’t do anything about my scent. But it’s worth a try.
I take off my jacket and the rest of the suit and shoes and the terrible tie, and everything else, until I’m standing naked in the darkness. I love this, this feeling of freedom. My coyote shift comes over me easily, my animal form rejoicing in the dark night and space in which to roam.
My heightened sense of smell helps me to home in on her immediately, and I have to push it aside so I can focus and do what I came here to do—to stake the place out and make sure she’s safe and the only one here.
So far, so good.
I cross over the road and descend into the wooded ravine that surrounds her property. I haven’t been here since I proposed to her and she immediately handed the ring back to me. We have a lot of memories here. Too many, maybe. I’m having a hard time concentrating on anything else.
It’s this lack of concentration that almost costs me my life.
I’m prowling around the porch when the front door of her farmhouse opens, throwing a beam of yellow light out into the yard, illuminating me. I duck away, lowering myself into the shadows of a nearby tree. But it’s too late. In the shaft of light I see her silhouette, aiming her handgun—directly at me.
“Stand up!” she shouts, her voice steady, strong, lethal. “Come out and let me see you!”
Okay. The jig is up. She’s about to get what she asked for, an eyeful of it.
I step out into the light again and shift, making sure she can see me. One of the advantages of dating another shifter—you never have to explain why you’ve shown up to her house naked.
“Channing.”
Her voice resonates with relief. Who did she think it was?
“You’d better get in here.”
She doesn’t sound too happy about inviting me in. I try not to let it bother me. Right now I’m more worried about why she’s so jumpy.
She watches me walk up the steps, her gaze staying on me as I pass her to enter the house. When I’m inside, she closes the door and deadbolts it.
Then she whirls on me. “What are you doing here?” She punches me in the shoulder. Hard. “What if I shot you, you idiot? Have you already forgotten what happened to your brother?”
I rub my shoulder. Damn, Tala can hit. “I didn’t mean to get caught…” I say, flinching at the way my explanation sounds. “I mean—I’m not trying to break in or stalk you or any creepy shit, Tala. I’m sorry.”
“Okay.” She nods, but she’s studying me like she’s not sure what to believe. “Then why are you here?”
“I’m worried about you. You were acting kind of off at the wedding, and I don’t think it was all because of me.”
She puts her handgun down and crosses her arms, like she’s officially interrogating me. “So you’re skulking around my house because you thought I was acting weird?”
I scrub my hands over my face. “Damn it, Tala. If you would tell me the truth already about why you were at the wedding…”
“I told you. I was keeping an eye on things.”
“What things?”
She sighs, a long, drawn-out sound I know well. For her, I think, it’s the sound of resignation.
“I was on patrol, okay?
”
She glares at me, clearly pissed I pushed her to tell me this much. But I don’t give up easily. “What were you patrolling?”
She starts to walk away from me, but I catch her by the arm and hold her. “Tala, please. Tell me.”
“Channing. It’s work stuff. You remember how it is.”
Yeah, I remember. But there’s no way in hell I’m letting this go yet. And she’s not going to like what I plan to do about it. Here goes.
“Well, you’re not staying alone tonight, anyway,” I tell her, using the belligerent tone she hates, but hey—whatever it takes.
She blinks, real slow. “What?”
“I said, you’re not staying alone tonight. Let me hang out on your couch. I’ll keep watch for you.”
She blinks again, stunned, I think. I try not to let it sting. “Is the suggestion of my staying over so bad, Tala?”
“N—no.” She shakes her head, and I think I believe her. “It’s—well—I haven’t seen you in a year and you show up at my house like this…”
She waves her hand over me. I guess my nudity does have some effect on her after all. I smile at her, my best half-cocked expression she used to love. I’m ready for her to fight me on this, with everything she’s got, and I’m ready for it.
“Okay, Channing. You can crash on my couch.”
Really? Why so easy?
“For tonight and tonight only. You got it?”
I nod, speechless. Is her secret so bad she actually wants me here to watch over her? Or is there another reason she doesn’t mind me sleeping over? There’s a nudge of hope rising in my chest, somewhere in the region of my heart.
Chapter Four
Tala
I hope Channing doesn’t get the wrong idea. When he showed up, I was pissed—mostly because he knows better than to sneak up on me. I might’ve shot him. Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it for prowling around my place uninvited.
But now—now I can keep watch over him without him having to know why I would need to in the first place. Apparently, he still hasn’t found out about Bryce.
Channing must’ve left his phone in his truck with his clothes, or he’d know by now. I sent officers out to his parents’ house and his brothers’ houses too. The locals know who Bryce is, most know his reputation as a convicted killer—what the human locals will never know is that Bryce’s victims are always shifters. No one knows how he sniffs them out, but if he’s on the loose, one can’t be too careful.