Jameson (War Cats Book 3)

by Grace Brennan

  Recapping the remaining coolant, Cadence put it in the backseat and climbed in. She turned the key, her cheeks heating as the engine groaned loudly to reluctant life. Following Tarun’s directions, she drove down a few different streets, watching as the cute cottages gave way to larger, more affluent homes. Lord, her old Cavalier looked completely out of place here.

  Pulling into the driveway Tarun indicated was hers, she put the car in park just in time for the engine to give up and die. But she didn’t even care at that moment, too busy staring at the home in awe. It was large, with two stories, made up of the gray stone most of the buildings here seemed to be made of, with dark brown shutters adorning each big window. There was a winding stone path cutting through the green grass, snaking from the driveway to the bright red front door, and it was lined with flowers of all colors. And there was a large wooden fence, the dark brown matching the shutters, enclosing what looked like a huge backyard.

  It was the kind of home she dreamed of living in, back when she was younger in foster care, when she was bounced from family to family, home to home, most of them small and dingy, some of them beyond dirty and virtually unlivable. The kind of home she gave up on ever even walking inside, much less owning, as an older teen, when she became wiser—and let’s face it, kind of jaded—to the world around her.

  And now, not only did she get to walk inside one, but she got to spend the night. Wow. Trying to shake the awe off, she climbed out of the car and shut the door, cringing a little as the rust floated down and decorated the concrete of the driveway.

  “You have a beautiful home,” she told Tarun softly as she joined her.

  Tarun smiled. “Thanks. It’s been in my family for generations, so I can’t really take the credit. But it was nice, growing up here. Do you have any luggage?”

  Pulling her gaze away from the house, she nodded. “A suitcase in the trunk.” With all her worldly belongings inside, apart from a couple of bags and a box in the backseat.

  “Well, let’s get it and go inside. We’ll get you fed, and you can go rest and relax in the guestroom. My brother will probably be out late, but I’ll ask him to check your car out as soon as I see him.”

  A sudden attack of nerves and fear paralyzed Cadence. She was going into a stranger’s house to spend the night. Anything could happen. Even seemingly nice girls could be serial killers. You’d think, after the life she led, especially this year, she’d be sufficiently wary enough to turn down an offer like Tarun’s. But maybe it was because she was exhausted from the mad dash to pack her stuff, buy that piece of shit car, and flee Tulsa, but she still felt like Tarun was genuine. This town was weird as hell, but Tarun seemed nice. And like she thought before—what other choice did she have?

  She’d just lock the bedroom door—please, Jesus, let it have a lock—and pray she made it through the night, sleeping lightly. She still thought she’d fair better sleeping here than in her car on a strange road.

  Squaring her shoulders, she plastered on a braver-than-she-felt smile and nodded at Tarun. “Lead the way.”

  Jameson Campbell walked toward his home, unable to decide if he was more hungry or exhausted. It’d been a long day, starting with warrior training, followed by a town meeting and then the ceremony. He was head trainer of the War Cat warriors, a position he held highly and didn’t take lightly, but it was frustrating and exhausting at turns.

  Karis was right, the new warriors were idiots who couldn’t fight their way through a bunch of humans. It’d been roughly four months since Karis said that, at the end of his rope as head warrior. Jameson told him to give it time, they’d improve. And they were, but it was far too slowly. Maybe, like Karis complained of back then, he was getting too old for this, or maybe he was looking back on previous generations with rose colored glasses and wasn’t remembering how bad they’d been in the beginning.

  He didn’t think so, though. The little used cynic in him wondered if it was deliberate. If they were all so disgruntled with Kian, their alpha’s, new reign, and the rule changes, that they were pretending to be awful. He couldn’t imagine lowering himself to that, although he also couldn’t deny there were a lot in the tribe who would. If they thought they could prove Kian was an unfit leader, maybe get the tribe to revolt, then they’d do it.

  Who knew what was the truth? He hated to think any of the tigers would be that deceitful, but they’d done worse. He tended to be a bit idealistic, admittedly, and it was hard to imagine they’d do something like that. And he couldn’t comprehend putting his pride so far aside as to pretend to be bad at something, but it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility they’d do it, if they thought it would accomplish what they wanted.

  He’d clearly been born to the wrong tribe. This had to be the worst bunch of shifters he’d ever seen, and he was nothing like the majority of them. Even his closest friends, Karis, Kian and Zane, were different from him. He was just wasn’t hardwired the same.

  The town meeting had been a little better. The tribe members voted down wholeheartedly putting their town on the map. Jameson couldn’t blame them, since he wasn’t a fan of doing so either. But they also didn’t like Kian’s decree that if and when they had visitors, there were rules and restrictions in place about hiding what they were. It was necessary, since the average human wasn’t aware of the existence of shifters. And with the gates open, a human could wander through at any time, although none had in the almost five months since Kian ordered them open. Training was also restricted to the arena only now, and only hand to hand combat was allowed if an uninitiated human was in Durga.

  The ceremony had been beautiful, though. Karis and Arya had gotten married in the human tradition. Most of the tribe didn’t understand it at all. They claimed each other four months ago, and that was usually enough for most shifters. The exception was generally when a shifter mated a human, and the human wanted the marriage tradition. But Karis and Arya were both born tigers, and yet they’d wanted to tie themselves to each other in every way possible.

  Unlike the others, Jameson understood that. If he had a mate, he’d want every tie and bond imaginable. Karis was fucking lucky as hell, Zane too. They’d both found what Jameson had been yearning for since he was twenty—a true mate. That was honestly way too young for a warrior, or any male, really, to begin to want a mate, but that didn’t change the fact that it was true. A mate, cubs, settling down—Jameson wanted it all. But here he was, twenty-nine years old, and it hadn’t happened for him yet.

  Maybe it never would. True mates were rare, and that’s what he wanted. Not the forced matings so many in his tribe had, when the men decided they wanted a woman and the females were rounded up for inspection. It was more like a horse auction than choosing a mate. No fucking joke, he actually saw one of the warriors inspecting the women’s teeth once. Those women had had no say in their matings, forced to go along with it. Kian changed all that, but it had been that way for far too long before he became the alpha.

  Shoving his hands in his pockets, Jameson fought a shudder. No, thank you. He wanted a true mating, where the woman actually wanted to be with him. Shifters could love as many as they wanted, but there was only one person who was it for them. And though there was instant attraction between the two, it was the shifter’s animal who chose, knowing instinctively who their best match was.

  Those matings were passionate and all consuming, and full of happiness. Full of love. That’s what he wanted, and he wouldn’t settle for less. He wasn’t sure he’d ever find it, though. He’d known every woman in this village practically since birth, and his tiger had never chosen one. He even sought each and every one of them out every year and tried to talk to them, crazy as it was, to give his tiger the chance to pick one. But he never had.

  Karis teased him mercilessly about being more like a woman than a warrior, with his need to find a mate, but for the most part, Jameson didn’t mind. He was secure in himself. He was masculine enough, and he could battle with the best of them. Wanting a family did
n’t take away from that. But Karis’ reaction was why he didn’t go around advertising his feelings, either. Teasing from his closest friend, he could accept and handle easily. Hearing it from the whole tribe, and constantly having to defend himself to the warriors, was a whole different story. Their teasing wouldn’t be friendly—it would be derisive and demeaning, done with the intent to tear him down.

  So the ceremony, while beautiful, had been a little bittersweet, too. Because he wanted what they had, and it was getting harder to hold out hope that it would happen one day. Karis finding his mate had helped bolster that hope some. Most shifters found their mates by the time they were thirty, and Jameson was approaching it quickly. But Karis was thirty-five when it happened for him. It wasn’t too late for Jameson yet.

  Exhaling forcefully, he tried to turn his thoughts away. He didn’t normally stew over it, although it was understandable why he was thinking about it so much tonight. Still, he was going to do his best to push it to the back of his mind again.

  We’ll find her one day, his tiger said. And we’ll have the cubs we want. The wait will be worth it then.

  I know.

  Only he wasn’t sure he did anymore. His cat had been saying the same words, along with driving him insane with his desire for cubs, for years. Jameson always tried to stay positive about it happening to him, but it was getting harder with every passing day.

  Glancing at his watch, his eyebrows rose as he saw it was almost one o’clock in the morning. The celebration lasted for a while, and then Jameson shifted to run the woods as his tiger, hoping to work through some of what he was feeling. He must have been in animal form longer than he thought. Picking up his pace, he walked briskly toward his house. He had a truck, but he rarely used it, like most of the tribe members. The village wasn’t large, and he enjoyed walking, but he was kind of wishing he drove to the ceremony now as a fresh wave of exhaustion crashed over him.

  And hunger, too. It’d been hours since he ate.

  Looking up as he neared his house, his steps slowed, and he frowned as he took in the old, beaten up car in his driveway. It was basically a rust bucket and banged all to hell. He’d never seen it before, and he knew virtually all the vehicles in Durga.

  He circled it slowly, but there were no clues as to its owner. There were a couple of bags in the backseat along with a battered box, so maybe it belonged to an outsider. Why the hell they were at his house was beyond him, but maybe they were at a neighbor’s and parked in the wrong driveway, although that seemed unlikely.

  Frowning harder, he walked to the front door and unlocked it, slipping inside. The house was dark and quiet, but he heard rustling on the couch and glanced over to see his sister sitting up, rubbing her eyes.

  Tarun yawned sleepily. “Jameson, that you?”

  He started to ask who else could it be, but he swallowed the words. There was a strange car in the driveway, so clearly, the instinctive sarcasm didn’t apply in this case.

  “Yeah. What’s up with the hunk of junk in the driveway?”

  “Shush,” she hissed, darting a look toward the stairs. “Don’t say that. And keep your voice down. You might wake her up, and she was really exhausted. She needs her sleep.”

  Moving to sit on the couch, he looked at her, puzzled. “Her, who? I don’t recognize the car, and I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

  She laughed softly. “Sorry, I guess I’m still more asleep than awake. Her name’s Cady. She showed up in town earlier, and she was parked in front of Khatari’s, and the hood of her car was open. She was about to put some kind of fluid in the engine, but Ben bumped into me and knocked me into her. The fluid spilled, and I got the impression her car needed it to run. She asked if we had a motel, but we don’t, so I offered for her to stay here.”

  Shaking his head, he looked at Tarun incredulously. His sister was sweet as pie and helped anyone, whether they wanted it or not, but she was far too trusting. “You invited some strange woman to stay in our home? What if she murders us in our beds, or makes off with the silver?”

  She rolled her eyes. “We’re pretty pathetic shifters if we let a human get the jump on us. And what silver? Despite the nice house, we have no money other than your salary, and we sold off the valuables long ago.” Pausing, she chewed on her lip, and when she looked back up at him, her blue eyes were troubled. “She was sad, Jamie. She hesitated to agree to spend the night here, and I know she only did because she didn’t think she had a choice. I think she was scared, too. I heard her lock her door when she went to bed. She’s not a threat. And I’m the reason she’s stuck here and had nowhere to go. How could I not offer?”

  “Maybe you’re right, but I’m not sure how comfortable I am with a stranger staying here. You’re all the family I have left, Tarun. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  Her eyes softened and she reached over, grasping his hand and giving it a squeeze. “It won’t. You know my gift is sensing threats, and I didn’t get a sliver of a warning about her.”

  He searched her eyes, but shifters could hear lies, and there’d been nothing but truth in her voice. And gifts didn’t lie, either. All shifters had one, something that was special, or something they were good at. Some were mental and some were physical. He and Tarun both had mental gifts. She could sense a threat, although it was fairly limited. Sometimes she knew where, and who, the threat was coming from, but more often than not, she didn’t know what it was, just that there was one.

  His was being able to sense a dark or troubled past. He generally kept his gift muted, because in a place like Durga, darkness and troubled pasts were everywhere. And it could get depressing, because it hurt to know so many of his people suffered under Kian’s father’s rule.

  “Besides,” his sister continued, “I really don’t think she had any other options. She asked how far the nearest town was, and her shoulders just dropped like a thousand pounds settled on top of them when I said Denver was closest. She needed help.”

  “And of course, you couldn’t resist.” He smiled as he spoke, affection welling up inside him.

  She just shrugged unapologetically as she stood. “You know me. Besides, it really was my fault that she got stranded here. Least I could do was try to make up for it. Hey, could you look at her car in the morning? I don’t know what the fluid was she was trying to put in it, but she mentioned something about water working in its place. She didn’t seem very convinced about it, though.”

  “It was probably coolant. Yeah, I’ll check it out. Go on up to bed. It’s late. I’m gonna grab something to eat, and then I’m going to bed, too.”

  “All right. Be quiet, though, okay? Don’t wake Cady. She really did look exhausted.”

  “I won’t.”

  “Oh, and just in case, don’t mention that we never have guests. I fibbed and told her sometimes visitors stayed here. I was trying to make her feel a little more at ease about spending the night.”

  His sister bent down, kissing his cheek, and he watched as she walked upstairs. A human woman, with mystery surrounding her. Mystery that wouldn’t be solved. He’d eat quickly and then crash, because he was going to get up early and see if he could fix her car. The War Cats had come around a bit since Kian took over, enough for Luke and Noah, the shifter Enforcers, to feel somewhat at ease about leaving when they were needed at home. But they still had a really long way to go, and they were all on alert, waiting for someone to try to take Kian and Zane out.

  The tribe wasn’t at all the best place for a human woman to be right now.

  Chapter Two

  Cady woke up early the next morning—unharmed and alive, thank God—and showered in the ensuite, dressing in a baggy shirt and comfortable pair of yoga pants. She kept listening for any sound that Tarun or her family were up and about, but she hadn’t heard anything since she got up.

  But she was too thirsty to wait any longer. She needed to get something to drink. Going to the door, she listened hard for any movement, but it was all quie
t beyond the door. She’d just quietly go to the kitchen and slake her thirst, and then make her way back up to her room and wait until others woke up.

  Swallowing hard at the thought of leaving the relative safety of her bedroom, even just for a few minutes, she unlocked the bedroom door and eased it open. Hesitantly looking around the hallway for anyone, she left the room, wincing when she stepped on a creaky floorboard. Creeping down the hallway and stairs, she looked around her, appreciating the house in daylight. There weren’t many decorations, but it was just as beautiful on the inside as it was the outside.

  The floors were hardwood, with rugs scattered here and there, and there were numerous, large windows letting the sunlight in. It was even more wonderful than she imagined a home like this would be. She couldn’t imagine growing up in a place like this. Tarun and her family were luckier than they probably realized for getting to live here.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she walked to the kitchen. Hell, her whole apartment back in Atlanta could fit in the kitchen alone here. All the space was overwhelming. She poked her head in the kitchen cautiously, but it was empty. Walking to the cabinet where Tarun got her a glass last night, she pulled one out and went to the tap, filling it with water. Taking a sip, she savored the cold liquid before raising the glass again, drinking deeply. That was so much better.

  “Hey, you must be Cady. I’m—”

  Jumping, Cadence shrieked and spun around, the glass slipping from her nerveless fingers and shattering on the tile floor. In the doorway to the kitchen stood a gigantic man. His dark eyebrows were arched high, and he was frozen, his hands buried in a rag like he’d been wiping them off. His slicked back hair was longish, its black color streaked with some red highlights here and there, picked up and showcased by the sun pouring in from the window beside him, and he had gleaming, heavy lidded dark eyes. Blue, she thought. A strong, straight nose set atop thin lips that, even from across the kitchen, looked surprisingly soft, and his square jaw was dusted with dark stubble.