by Rosanna Leo
There had never been much need before. Back home, people respected Jani. They sought his advice. Here, he offered it freely and it was rejected. If only Fleur could sit still for a moment and absorb what he was trying to tell her, she might learn something and his conscience would be clear.
He didn’t want Fleur to be angry with him. Frankly, he wasn’t sure what he wanted from Fleur, but it wasn’t this mess of black emotion. If they were to be friends, he needed to assume responsibility for his part in the fiasco that was the bar rescue.
They were adults. They could be civilized. Jani had managed to build relationships with people in much worse straits. Why, just last year, he’d helped his cousin Anton establish peace in a shifter principality torn by strife. Surely he could make friends with one woman.
Fleur had left the bedroom door open and he took that as a signal she might still be awake and open to conversation. He planned his opening sentence, walked in, and stopped just inside the door.
She lay asleep, tangled in his sheets.
Naked.
He should have turned away then and there, but he was frozen to his spot. If she’d planned to borrow any of his clothes, he saw no evidence of it. Instead, she lay face up, her long hair trailing across her neck and toward an ample breast. One arm was flung behind her head and the other lay hidden beneath a portion of plaid, flannel sheet. The sheet trailed between her legs, preserving some of her modesty, but not much. Even from his spot in the hallway, he could glimpse the enticing swathe of skin below her belly button.
He drew closer, praying his heavy steps would not make the hardwood floor creak. His keen tiger eyes took note of a small tattoo on the front of her hip, even before he understood what it meant.
A.B.
Disappointment scored Jani’s insides, as Jani’s tiger scratched him in misery. Alpha Brethren.
It seemed August Crane had marked her after all.
Jani sprinted through his memory bank. He’d only seen Fleur nude twice before, after Crane had beaten her and during the battle at the cult leader’s compound. He’d taken discreet, but thorough, looks at her each time. Although he’d memorized several details such as the swell of her breasts and the color of her nipples, he’d never noticed any tattoos.
So when had she gotten the ink? Had she etched it into her skin after being liberated from the cult, in memory of Crane? He prayed she didn’t pine for Crane. The man had used sex as a weapon, dangling Fleur like a puppet on a string. It had almost killed Jani to see her go back over and over, only to be abused at Crane’s hands. The very idea she might mourn him made him want to put his fist through the nearest wall. Saddened and disappointed, he turned and left the bedroom, stumbling toward the living room.
Unable to sleep, he dragged a couple of cushions from the corner chair and dropped them onto the living room carpet. He lay down on his back, folded his hands over his gut, and stared at the ceiling. Although the carpet was soft enough, the floor beneath it was hard. He couldn’t get comfortable but suspected it had very little to do with the unyielding floor.
There would be no sleep tonight. Not when his head was filled with carnal images of Fleur and that dead bastard August Crane.
* * * *
The next morning, Jani hauled his sore ass off the floor. As soon as he moved, a head rush almost brought him tumbling back down. He paused a moment, gathering equilibrium. All his muscles ached but he resisted groaning in displeasure. Had he been in a fight yesterday? He remembered wanting to hit someone. Glancing at his hand, he spied a bruise. Spiderlike, it originated at the tops of his knuckles and spread toward each of his fingers. Just then, his head began to pound. Passing a hand over it, he felt a distinct bulge at his brow. The spot was more than tender.
His memories flooded back, making him taste bile. Oh yes. The bikers.
And Crane. He’d been there too. Jani remembered taking a knife to the bastard’s throat and…
Wait a minute. That part was a dream. A very good dream. Any scenario that allowed him to wrench the miserable life out of August Crane was just fine by him. In fact, he’d gladly spend the rest of his life imagining how it would feel to put a period on the man’s existence.
Jani wandered into the kitchen, only to find Fleur already there, puttering at the counter. The blissful scent of strong coffee mingled with her feminine perfume, going straight to his head. His head hurt even more now. She’d changed since yesterday, but this ensemble did nothing to appease his racing pulse. Wearing one of his T-shirts, she appeared otherwise bare underneath it. For a second, he allowed himself to indulge in a peek at her smooth legs and pretty knees.
What am I doing? I didn’t hunt her down to ogle her knees. I’m here to make sure she stays safe and on the right track. A woman like Fleur, whose dismal history she’d only alluded to, could be led astray so easily. That damned tattoo was proof. He grunted, remembering the distinctive whorls of the A.B.
She turned and gasped. “Hi.”
He said nothing.
“Last I checked, you were dead to the world on the floor.”
Last I checked, you were naked in my bed, wearing a tattoo in honor of that shithead Crane. He didn’t voice the thought, but it still burned a hole in his chest.
“Boy, yesterday you were full of comments. I see we’ve decided to remain aloof today.” She poured a cup of coffee and padded toward him. “I’m sorry about taking your bed and for messing up your couch. I didn’t know you slept on the floor until I got up.”
“It’s fine.”
“Although, in fairness, you are the one who rolled me in fish juice.”
“I know.”
“You mustn’t have slept well.” She frowned at the sight of the mess on his forehead. “Do you want some ice for that?”
“No ice.”
“Because I can help…”
“I said no ice.” For some reason Jani wanted to revel in this pain. It reminded him Fleur was trouble.
“Okay, okay. Sue me for caring. Although maybe you should go back to bed. You look like shit.”
“Thank you very much.” He gave her the dangerous look he normally reserved for his enemies, but she didn’t cower as they often did.
In fact, one side of her lips turned up in a half smile. She turned back to the kitchen counter, no doubt to hide her suppressed laughter.
“Are you laughing at my pain?”
“No, Jani. I’m laughing because you think you can scare me.” She shook her head, clearly as mystified at him as he was at her. “Look, I can’t cook worth crap but I threw together a couple of things. Cereal, fruit.” She deposited a couple of bowls onto the table and then scratched her head. “Don’t you have any protein in this place? I’d kill for some bacon.”
“I usually grab meals with Anton and Marci and the others.”
“Ah, right. The Gemini Island gang. The friends who eat together, stay together, huh?”
“One of the restaurants escaped the fire. Ryland’s been storing all the food there. If you want, we could grab breakfast with the others.”
“I don’t think I’m ready for that.”
He considered pushing her but decided against it. He was too tired anyway. “Then cereal and fruit it is.”
The shadows haunting her eyes deepened and she sat at the kitchen table. She indicated the seat across from her. “Sit.”
He did, taking a drink from his hot mug. One sip, and he felt a little more human, at least as human as someone like him could feel. All the while, his tiger crouched, its fiery gaze drawn to her. Thirsty for something other than coffee.
Fleur seemed nervous, clutching her own mug, taking the odd dainty sip. Jani didn’t disguise the fact he watched her. She’d done her best to set him on edge the past two weeks. She could teeter on the precipice for a while now.
It wasn’t long ago they’d been enemies by circumstance. If anyone had asked him his opinion of Fleur Bissette a couple of months ago, he would ha
ve said he despised her. Now? His tiger was curious, impatient. It wondered about her sighs and her dreams and wanted to be the focal point of each for some strange reason.
Unbelievable. Jani had known many women. None had ever led him on such a not-so-merry chase. Shaking his head, he made an attempt at conversation. “Did you sleep well?”
“Sort of. I tossed a lot. Different bed.”
The vision of her naked body, full breasts on display, once again sliced into his consciousness. It had taken all his fortitude not to storm back into that bedroom, rip the sheets from her, and taste the sweetness between her legs. She wouldn’t have stopped him. He knew it.
But it didn’t make it right. This was Fleur. After everything she’d been through, she deserved better than aggressive, unthinking loving. She’d been manhandled for years. Surely someone like her would prefer a gentle touch for once.
Plus there was the matter of a certain Alpha Brethren tattoo.
“We need to talk, Fleur. Really talk.”
“More talk, huh?” She sighed. “What I really need is to go back home, Jani. I told you, I have work to do.”
“Maybe it’s time you fill me in on this important mission.”
“Fine.” She stood, holding her coffee mug, and paced next to the table, taking the odd, distracted sip. As she moved, Jani caught a whiff of her scent. Green apples, juicy and sweet, with a hint of tartness. Like her. The sort of perfume that made him want to drag his tongue up the length of her delicate neck. He braced himself on the table edge, hoping he didn’t resemble a meat-deprived caveman.
Fleur, seemingly oblivious to his inconvenient hunger, sat back down. “My mother has a boyfriend,” she explained, her tone hardening at the term. “A wolf shifter named Wilf Breckenridge and he’s a nasty sonofabitch.”
“You’ve met him?”
“Many times. He’s my mom’s dealer.”
“Dealer? As in drug dealer?”
“What can I say? Happy families.” She shrugged. “Wilf and my mother go way back. They went to high school together. He’s been sniffing around her for years. It used to piss off my dad.”
“I can see why.”
“Yeah, well, daddy dearest wasn’t a saint either.” Fleur looked out the kitchen window, squinting when the sun hit her in the face. The sudden illumination highlighted the dark shadows under her eyes and Jani’s heart lurched.
“Go on.”
She sat up straight and looked at Jani once again. “All you really need to know is Wilf Breckenridge is a thug and I don’t want her anywhere near him.”
“But your mother doesn’t agree?”
“You could say that. He keeps her high and it makes her happy. I’ve seen them together before. He acts like he cares, but he just has this sick obsession for her. ‘Don’t worry, Barbi. I’ll take care of you, Barbi. I know what you need.’ He’s a total creep.”
“Maybe she loves him,” Jani suggested.
“Nah. She may think she does. After my dad died, my mother had a lot of issues. She didn’t take his death well. Mate bond and all that garbage. Although, frankly, I don’t know why she got her nose out of joint over him. Dad was as much of an asshole as Wilf. Dad didn’t know how to express himself without using his hands.”
The skin at the back of Jani’s bristled with anger. His home life hadn’t been perfect either but what sort of hell had she endured growing up? “Your father abused your mother?”
She nodded.
“But they were mates. He should have taken care of her.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes fate lands you with a shitty mate. She loved him. She stayed with him, but he betrayed her over and over again.”
“But I don’t understand how a man could raise his hand to the woman who shares his soul.”
“You have a poetic streak, you know that?” She smirked. “Look, the mate bond makes sense when you’re sober, but Dad was always drunk. The mate bond isn’t so compelling when you can’t see what’s in front of your face.”
Damn. He was growing tired of seeing this scenario play out in Fleur’s life. What else had her father done? Just wondering made the ache at his head worse. It no longer felt like a head butt injury. It now felt as if he’d slammed it against a brick wall a dozen times. “Did your father hit you too?”
He reached a hand over the table to touch her arm, but she flinched and pulled away.
Jani’s tiger roared in objection. The last thing the dumb beast wanted was for Fleur to shrink away from its touch. Ignoring his own inconvenient desires, Jani sat still and reiterated his question. “Fleur? Your father. Did he…?”
“Yeah, yeah. He knocked me about as well. It’s ancient history and he’s dead.”
Jani knew these sorts of things happened. His cousin Anton certainly suffered at his father’s hands. Sometimes parents were horrible to their children. For some reason, though, Fleur’s situation saddened him more than others.
“Anyway,” she continued, “when my dumbass father got himself killed in a fight, my mom fell into a spiral of booze and drugs, instead of trying to get her life back in order. My mom’s always had problems with addiction and Wilf Breckenridge was the one who got her hooked. After Dad died, Wilf showed up again, acting supportive, as if he’d been waiting for an opportunity. I wouldn’t doubt if he had something to do with my father’s death.”
“You think he murdered him?”
“Oh, not him. Wilf doesn’t like blood on his hands, fastidious sonofabitch. He would have gotten one of his biker pals to do the grunt work. Anyway, my mother fell into his arms. With him around, she’ll never get clean. Plus, he treats her like dirt. He’s got other women on the side, always has. With all the drugs in her system, she’s not strong enough to refuse him. She takes everything he gives her.”
“Why do you think so? Why doesn’t her wolf fight back?”
“I don’t know. Why didn’t I fight back against August or the other losers who mistreated me? You always think you might be the woman to fix them, but by the time you realize they’re unfixable, it’s too late.”
Jani recalled the time he came upon Fleur after Crane had beaten her. Naked and curled up on the floor, she’d been covered in bruises and welts. If he hadn’t intervened that day, it might have been too late for her. Crane had already grown tired of her. He’d set his sights on another of their friends, Suzan Marsh. His obsession for Suzan had been the final straw, the catalyst for the battle between the Brethren and the people at the Ursa Lodge.
“Wilf is like crack to my mom. She knows he’s bad news but she can’t resist him or the garbage he peddles.” She tapped on the table, avoiding his gaze. “Her life is shit and with him, she’s able to escape for a while. He sticks a needle in her arm and she can forget the world. That makes him irresistible. You’d swear she wasn’t a shape-shifter at all. I haven’t seen her wolf since I was a kid. After I left the Alpha Brethren, I heard rumors about her and Wilf again, but I had to be certain. That’s why I got the waitressing job in that dump. Those men you saw me with were Wilf’s friends. I was hoping to get info on his whereabouts. He seems to have moved and I haven’t been able to dig him up.”
“And I ruined it for you.”
“Sort of.” She shrugged it off. “Look, I’m not trying to get into trouble. I wasn’t looking for a date with those rejects. I just want my mom to get away from Breckenridge and into rehab. Jani, I’ve been given a chance to start over. She should have the same chance.”
Jani didn’t miss the significance of the moment. For Fleur to want to fight back against an abuser was a huge development. She wanted to break the pattern of abuse, for herself and her mother, and he couldn’t deny a part of him was only too pleased to help her.
The other part of him worried about Fleur getting hurt in the process. She was impressionable. What if this Wilf character set his sights on Fleur? And what about these shifter bikers who protected him?
She couldn’t do this alo
ne. She needed him.
They would have to discover exactly what was going on between her mother and the local shifter drug lord, but that shouldn’t present too much of a problem. If he helped her, they should be able to handle any obstacles.
“Does she live with Breckenridge?”
“I doubt it. He doesn’t tend to bring junkies home with him, not even her. I don’t know where she is.”
“Have you spoken to her recently?”
She frowned. “Not for a couple of years. She hated me running off with Crane to join the Alpha Brethren. She had the nerve to criticize my choices but refused to analyze her own.”
“And will she listen to you if you talk to her now?”
“Probably not. But I have to try, don’t I? What kind of person would I be if I didn’t try?”
It was Jani’s turn to frown. Something twigged in his chest, somewhere in the vicinity of his heart. This news distressed him, not only because he hated hearing of downtrodden women, but also because the darkness in her eyes gave him a stress headache. She might never reveal exactly how much the situation pained her, but he saw it in the slope of her eyebrows and the twist to her mouth.
He’d seen that look before. His younger sister Hanna had carried a similar mantle of sadness and hopelessness…right before the end.
The thought of his sister made his chest ache so he shelved the memories and concentrated on Fleur. He didn’t like seeing her like this. If he’d learned anything in the last few weeks, he knew when Fleur was sad, he grew sad. Fucked up, but true. “I could look for Breckenridge myself. I’m sure I could show him the error of his ways. I’ll have a conversation with him, man to man.” The conversation would involve Jani’s fists and fangs but the message would be communicated loud and clear.
“This isn’t your fight. Besides, you can’t talk with someone like him. I just want to get my mother away from him. Wherever he is, she won’t be far away. If I can remove her from the situation, then maybe I can talk to her.”
“Have you tried contacting her by telepathy?” Jani asked. As pack members, Fleur and her mother would be connected by telepathy, a trait shared by all shape-shifter families.