Chapter Nine
Gerard led London into the tiled en suite off his bedroom. While he and Henry shared the house, they’d decorated their private rooms to their personal specifications. Heavily soundproofed too, to keep the illusion of privacy because they intended to share their house even after they found mates. As he turned London to face him and reached behind her to flick her bra closure, he spared a thought for Henry. He’d heard Henry and Jenny when they’d got busy in the kitchen, before he’d closed his bedroom door. They’d been happy and now sadness engulfed his friend, along with anger and a craving for revenge. His breath hissed out at the last bit.
“What’s wrong?”
“We’ll keep a close eye on Henry. If we find the man—person—responsible for Jenny’s death, his wolf will want blood.”
“Blood?”
“Revenge,” Gerard said, going for truth. Best thing, he decided.
“I understand. I feel that way myself.”
“How big is this Royce character? How tall?” He should have asked her earlier. He traced the loosened cup of her bra, skimming her creamy curves and reveling in her swift intake of air. “London?”
She coughed and delicate color shaded her cheeks.
He laughed and pressed a butterfly kiss to her heated skin.
“Stop distracting me.”
“Can’t help it.” He reached past her and turned on the shower. “Strip.”
“I don’t react well to orders.” That prissy English accent again. God, it made him hot.
“Please strip.”
“Better,” she said grudgingly and slid her bra down her arms. “Stop staring.”
“Hard not to. You’re beautiful.”
She snorted, and he grasped her upper arms, turning her to face him.
“I mean every word. I wouldn’t change a single thing. The man or men in your past who hurt you didn’t have a clue about class and beauty. Their loss, my gain.”
“Sweet-talker.”
“Get naked and into the shower. I have plans for the rest of our evening.”
She shimmied from her jeans and panties and sauntered past him to stand under one of the showerheads in the tiled wet room. He’d liked the idea of no cubicle and multiple showerheads to pummel his aching muscles after a hard run or a sparring session with Henry or Sam, when he was in town. Plus, there was plenty of room for two.
He crowded London closer to the wall, fitting his front to her back, and nuzzled her neck. The temptation to bite struck him like a punch—not unexpected. Not prudent either, yet he allowed his sharp teeth to scrape across her mating spot. She shuddered, her reaction not helping his restraint.
She turned in his arms and smiled up at him through wet hair. “Are we going to talk here?”
“No.” A comfortable bed beckoned. “In bed, after we’ve made love.” He never mentioned making love to another woman. With his past women, it had been about sex and feeling good, lighter. Oh, he made sure they’d had as much fun as he did. Different now. More important. Now, he cared about her reaction, her enjoyment, her comfort. If he could concentrate on something else, he’d control his demanding feline. “Let me scrub your back.”
“Oh? That sounds tame.”
A feline could only take so much.
He pounced, his mouth on hers, delving to taste, to dominate, to claim.
She whimpered against his lips, her arms clutching him closer. Her lush body teased his senses, her rigid nipples propelling him onward. He fueled his kiss with an erotic assault, intoxicated by her, mesmerized. The water spilled over his shoulders, her hair, yet all he could think of was getting closer, becoming as intimate as only a man and a woman could. He lifted her, rasping his tongue over her breasts, clawing tension digging at his resolution. He raised her higher and fit his cock to her entrance, teasing himself, teasing her.
She strained against him, and he slid deeper.
“Wait. London, we need a condom.”
She froze in his arms, her chest heaving while they stared at each other. Her warmth and heat tore at his control. His feline snarled, the sound rippling from him, louder than the pound of the water.
Her eyes widened, her mouth rounded, and she struggled, wanting him to release her. “Who are you? What are you?”
His face. His eyes. She wriggled free of his touch and he let her. Stupid. So stupid. Why hadn’t she thought, considered the ramifications. “Henry is a werewolf. You’re not human either.”
Gerard swallowed audibly, his throat working. He lacked his normal confidence as he stared at her.
“Cat got ya tongue?” She did not understand where the taunt came from or her bravery. He was bigger than her and could overpower her in an instant. Sugar, he’d lifted her as if she weighed nothing and supported her body without difficulty. She trusted him, sensed he’d do nothing to hurt her, yet she couldn’t prevent her shudder of uncertainty.
“I’m a feline shifter,” he said, his delivery flat.
A laugh spluttered free. Oh, sugar. She retreated a fraction, eyeing him with trepidation. “You’re a cat?”
He straightened a fraction, his mouth firming. “I am a black leopard shifter. What’s wrong? You don’t like cats?”
The inappropriate humor slid from her when she realized he wasn’t joking, and if she hadn’t offended him, she’d come close. “Sorry.”
“Do I offend you? Repulse you?”
“No, I’m sharing a bed with you. I don’t…I haven’t…you took me by surprise.” And how. She gulped, her mind telling her to run. She took half a step when the words of a wildlife narrator plunged to the fore. Don’t run. Running was bad. Especially naked running.
His searching gaze drilled into her as he sought the truth of her words. “I don’t disgust you? You’re not frightened?”
London searched her feelings. Yes, she was shocked and stupid too. Her brain should have connected the dots earlier, but he looked like Gerard again. His face and eyes were back to normal. No, she wasn’t frightened.
“No, I…I have questions, of course, but I feel safe.” An understatement, she realized. He made her happy, gave her balance, despite the loss of her sister. “It’s just I didn’t suspect…” She thought over the time she’d spent with him, with Henry and his other friends. “Your friends are shifters too.”
“Most of them. Some are mated to humans.”
“Who? Which ones? Have I met them?” London fired questions at him and almost laughed at his expression. She couldn’t help her curiosity.
“Emily is human.”
“Lisa?”
“Shifter.”
“Sam?”
“Shifter.”
“So don’t human men get together with cat ladies?”
“Feline shifters.” He paused. “I don’t know of any matches like that. Mostly it’s feline shifter males that mate with human females.”
“Interesting.” She grabbed a towel, not wanting this discussion while naked. “How many shifters live in Middlemarch?”
“Close to a hundred. There are lots of other families in the South Island. Not so many in the North.”
“Are you getting out of the shower?”
“What? Ah, yeah.”
London waited while he turned off the shower and handed him a towel. “You look human. Well, except for that freaky face and eye thing. I wouldn’t have noticed, but I was looking right at you.”
“That rarely happens. You…my control around you is tenuous.”
“Why? Should I worry?”
“Because I like you a lot. My feline half wants you as his mate, and that makes him harder to control, but you’re not in danger.”
“A mate?”
“The human equivalent is marriage, but mating is much more. It’s virtually impossible for a shifter to cheat if they’re mated to their partner. Mating is like…like soul mates.”
“Oh.” He wanted her in that way? They hadn’t known each other long, yet crazily, she was comfortable with him.
Oops. Hit a nerve there. “I haven’t run away screaming. I’ll admit, you’ve taken me by surprise. After Henry, I should have guessed. I had no idea. No idea.”
“Do you have more questions?”
“Just the one. What do you look like when you shift?”
Gerard tossed his towel into a hamper. “I thought we were going to bed.”
“We are, but I want to know what I’m dealing with.” Her lack of hesitation seemed to ease his tension.
“You’re making me feel like an aberration.”
Impulse had her trailing her fingers across his chest. “A sexy one. Please show me.”
He huffed out a harsh breath and counteracted the impatient sigh by lacing his fingers with hers. A tiny shiver shimmied up her arm from the point of contact. What was it about this man? This shifter? Yes, she was giving him a hard time now, but it took little thought to understand her heart was part of the equation. Gerard had charmed his way into her heart, and not even learning of his dual nature had dented her feelings for him, not after her initial surprise. This soul mate thing…she’d need to consider this.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d react,” he confessed.
“Aw, was the puddy-cat scared?”
His look held disapproval as he folded his arms over his broad chest. “I’m capable of putting you over my knee and spanking away that cheek. It would make me hot.”
Oops, still not a laughing matter. “Truce?”
A slow and sexy grin slid across his disapproval. “Hot sex might make it better, soothe my ruffled nerves.”
“Please show me your other form.”
“And then we’ll have sex?”
“Then we’ll make love.”
He gave a quick nod. “Sit on the bed and give me room.”
She gaped at him. “There’s plenty of room. How big do you get?”
Gerard’s bark of laughter had her grinning too.
“Oh no. Your mind did not go there.”
He didn’t answer but closed his eyes. As she watched, black hair sprouted on his arms, his legs, his torso. His shoulders curled inward, and his body seemed to rearrange itself. He fell forward onto all fours. She blinked, astonished at the rapidness of the transformation, and when she focused again, a big black cat sat on its haunches. The creature bore a distinctive smirk.
“I can’t believe it,” she said. “I’d recognize your smirk anywhere.”
He growled, yet she didn’t feel fear. Gerard ambled to the bed where she sat. He rubbed against her legs and let out a loud purr when she ran her hand along his spine.
“You’re soft.” Awe filled her at his wild beauty—the leashed power in his muscles as he moved. Wow. Just wow.
He rasped his tongue over the back of her hand in reply, the sensation rough, yet not unpleasant. With a final nudge of his furry head against her thigh, he stepped away and reversed the shift.
“Well? What do you think?”
“You’re beautiful.” Her gaze wandered his body. “In both forms.”
“You could live with me? Stay with me?”
“I-I…” This was happening so fast. She liked him. She did, but she’d made mistakes before. “What about the mating process? Will something funny happen?”
“No. If you’re worried, you can talk to Emily or to Caroline when she’s next in Middlemarch. If we formalize our relationship, I’ll bite you here.” He stroked across the fleshy pad where neck and shoulder met. “It will hurt, and then it’s meant to feel superb—for both of us. I don’t know for certain because it only ever happens with a mate. The enzymes from my saliva will mingle with your blood and the bite will heal rapidly, but leave a raised scar. The enzymes will extend your life to match mine, and you’ll heal better than you used to but you’ll still be human.”
“A lot to consider.”
“Not really.” He tugged her to her feet. “Enough talking. Yes?”
“Enough talking.” She pulled his head down to meet his keen gaze. Their lips met and the resulting kiss inflamed her, consumed her. Her heart beat an unsteady tattoo as he purred his approval. He pushed her to the mattress, the sensual energy between them blazing off the charts with a few kisses. He thumbed her nipples and nuzzled her neck.
Recalling his words of mating and marking made her wet, and she parted her legs in invitation, not requiring any more foreplay. His hips ground against hers, and he muttered a soft curse.
“You push at my control.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No,” he whispered and stopped any further conversation with his lips. He groped for a condom, and moments later, he pushed inside her. “Hot. Tight. Perfect.”
She smiled at him, gloried in the hunger etched into his face. London gasped at his next stroke. Hard and deep, it felt so good. He kissed her again, this one charged with sweetness, and she grew even wetter with wanting him. His thrusts increased in pace, and he nipped the marking site. Knowing what it meant now made the act more intimate, more everything. She shuddered at the sweet burn and ran her hand over his back to cup his muscular butt.
“Harder, Gerard.”
He plunged into her, taking her at her word. The sweet burn flared brighter until she cried out, the piercing ache increased until the point of no return, and the entire time, Gerard held her, anchored her and stoked the fire in them both. Her climax struck, spasms rippling through her vagina, clenching his cock until he, too, fell into pleasure.
She groaned when he separated their bodies, but once he’d removed the condom, he tugged her into his embrace. He might have sharp teeth and wicked claws, but she sensed he’d never intentionally hurt her. She could tease him, snap at him pre-cup of tea in the morning, and he’d take each of her personality quirks in stride. This knowledge gave her a heady sense of satisfaction. She sighed her happiness and let sleep take her. Sheltered in his arms, Gerard made her feel safe.
* * * * *
He couldn’t catch a lucky break. The fuckin’ stars had aligned against him when his goal lingered a hairsbreadth away, so close he tasted the riches.
He winged a glare at the two dogs sitting on the deck, visible under the light of the pale yellow moon. The creatures sat like mismatched bookends. One big. One small. One white. One dark brown. Occasionally, they’d part company and walk a circuit of the house before meeting again on the deck. Both alert, as if they suspected he lurked in the trees bordering the property.
Bitch was sleeping with that guy. She hadn’t put out for him that soon.
He’d asked in the local pub about the businesses in Middlemarch. The locals liked to talk, enjoyed meeting the new people who came to this one-horse town. Way too quiet for him. No entertainment. Second class.
God, what he wouldn’t give for a whiff of city traffic, a glimpse of a red double-decker bus. This fresh air made him dizzy.
The dogs did their weird patrol again. Slightly different path. Enough of a difference that he couldn’t make a run for it and spray paint his slogan on the SUV parked in the driveway. Real freaky, these dogs.
Time to retreat and rethink his plan. He needed a weapon, meat laced with poison or tranqs to get rid of the dogs. Tranqs probably since they’d act fast. The last thing he wanted was the sound of vomiting dogs to attract attention. Yep, tranqs it was. A knife or a gun. A knife, he decided, so he could carve that bitch’s skin.
She’d never forget him if she had to wear his words carved on her skin.
Tempting, but no time to carve.
London Allbright had to die.
* * * * *
The next morning
“So, what about kids? How does that work?” London asked, still full of shapeshifter questions.
“The normal way. A couple has amazing sex.” He waggled his eyebrows, smiling at her bubbling excitement.
“Yeah, but what are the children? Are they cat,
dog, or human?”
“I wouldn’t let Henry hear you call him a dog,” Gerard said. “He’s a wolf. Geoffrey is a dog.”
“There is so much to remember. You didn’t answer my question.”
“When we have children, they will appear human, but they will have the ability to shift to feline. It’s different with wolves. A human-wolf pairing dilutes the power of the wolf.”
“What age will they shift?”
“Around early teens, but there are exceptions. You remember me mentioning Caroline and Marsh. Their son is three, and he shifted. Shocked everyone because he refuses to shift back.”
“I’ve only known you for three days. It’s too early for imaginary children.”
“I explained about mates last night. There are some who click. You click with me, London. I want you. Never doubt that. Every time we make love, my feline urges me to bite you, to bestow my mark. I’m trying to give you time, but never doubt you’re my other half.”
“You’ve had other lovers.”
“So have you,” he countered, forcing back his feline when he yowled a loud protest. “I’ll repeat what I said last night. The instant I saw you, my life changed. Touching you brings me joy. Having you in my life makes me happy. You are my mate in all ways, and I will make this official. You’ll understand then, but I want to give you time too.”
“Tell me about this Feline council. When do you get to shift?”
“Enough. We have today and the rest of the week for your incessant curiosity. Come here. I can think of a much better use for your sexy mouth.” He glanced at his cock then at her.
She huffed out a laugh. “Typical male. It’s all about the second brain.”
He chuckled, the action pushing joy and happiness free. “Listen to you with that sassy English mouth. I’ve created a monster. You were more buttoned-up and prim when we first met.”
“Sometimes I’m shy.”
“Past that stage.”
She made a huffy sound, but it was hard to miss the curve of her lips and the cheeky sparkle in her eyes. London Allbright was a magnificent gift, and he was having fun unwrapping the different layers.
My Feline Protector (Middlemarch Shifters Book 6) Page 11