by Rosanna Leo
“It’s been so long, I can’t seem to connect to her. It’s probably the drugs. Then again, maybe we’ve lost our connection. I don’t know.” She ran her hands through her mane of hair, digging and clenching. As the strands fell back into place on her shoulders, they shone under the halogen bulbs in the kitchen fixture.
Entranced, Jani marveled at the dark sheen in her hair. The mane shimmered like glossy chocolate fondant under bakery lights. He breathed in deeply, activating his Jacobson’s organ, the auxiliary olfactory sense that allowed him to examine a scent. Between her cocoa-dark hair and green apple scent, she might have been dessert. Swallowing, he tried to dismiss his case of badly-timed lust. “Listen, Fleur. If you want to extract your mother, I’ll help you, but you need to be prepared for the fact she might not want to go.”
“I know.”
“If she’s been in denial this long about the men in her life, chances are nothing has changed. She might resent you for disrupting her life.”
“Like I resented you?”
He grinned. “Do you still resent me?”
Her lashes fluttered. “No. You’re the reason I’m doing this. If it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t be strong enough.”
Jani’s heart hammered under his ribs. Or was it his delusional spirit animal throwing itself against his insides in an attempt to be with Fleur? Either way, unfamiliar sensations shook his being.
Kiss her, his tiger urged.
If it had been any other woman at any other time, he wouldn’t have hesitated. But he’d seen Fleur at her lowest. He didn’t wish to scare her away. Or did he? He hadn’t been searching for life partners when his inner predator spotted her and made her the focus of its warped attentions. What the hell did he want? Stifling the tiger in his gut, he mumbled a response. “No woman deserves to be mistreated. I did what any man of honor would do.”
She gave him the side eye. “I haven’t known too many men of honor. I don’t even know too many men who could spell the word honor. But I know you.” She swallowed and seemed to be choosing her words. “I never really thanked you for saving me at the Alpha Brethren compound. So, thank you. You’re a good friend, Jani.”
A good friend. Why did the term grate on his nerves? He gritted his teeth and tried to smile. “Yes, well, I apologize for tying you up and throwing you in the back of a truck. I acknowledge it wasn’t my best moment. When I saw that man…touching you…”
“It’s okay. I understand. And I’m sorry for trying to hit you and for calling you names.” She stared at the grain of the wood on the kitchen table, as if entranced by its mysteries. “That’s something the old Fleur would have done, but the new Fleur shouldn’t have. It was beneath me.”
“Shall we begin again?”
She nodded.
“Okay, good friend, but I’m doing this on one condition.”
Her face fell and hardened. “Of course. Everyone always has conditions, don’t they? I’ve never met anyone who did anything without strings attached. So, tell me, tiger man. What do you want?”
Her defensive attitude surprised him, especially after thinking they’d made a breakthrough. “Just this. While we work on trying to help your mother, I want you to stay here with me. I want you to try to get along with everyone at the Ursa. I want you to make friends.”
“You can’t be serious. I know we’re playing nice now, but eventually, we’ll kill each other. You and me…we shouldn’t be under the same roof. I’ll just ask Ryland for another cabin.”
“No. I want you here.” It might seem like a come on. Hell, it probably was in some fucked up way, but mostly he just wanted to make sure she remained safe. If this Wilf Breckenridge was as nasty as she claimed, Jani wanted to ensure Fleur stayed out of harm’s way. “You can take the bed. I will stay on the fishy couch. I’ve almost gotten used to the stench.”
This was where she would shut him down, where she’d tell him to piss off.
“I don’t know, Jani. I’ll need to get my clothes and some other stuff.” Her gaze traveled around the cabin, looking for some sort of assurance. When her dark eyes danced in his direction, they seemed to grow darker and full of curiosity. She wet her lips and sighed, shrugging. “Okay.”
Okay. That meant yes. She hadn’t told him to piss off and hadn’t even come close to flipping him the bird.
“Okay.” With that one, murmured word, Jani felt lighter than he had in two whole weeks.
Lighter, and much to his dismay, harder.
Chapter 3
FLEUR didn’t miss the flare of Jani’s nostrils as he walked into the cramped apartment she’d been renting for the past couple of weeks. Buckingham Palace, it wasn’t. And thanks to her neighbors, who smoked up every opportunity they got, it sure as hell didn’t smell like any castle she’d ever envisioned.
What did he expect? Fresh-cut flowers on the table? Hardwood floors and stainless-steel appliances? Expert staging? She’d been lucky enough to find a cheap flat over a pawnshop and some dented Ikea furniture at a garage sale. It might not be fancy, but it was hers and he could try to look less offended.
“You know,” she said, as she gathered up some belongings and tossed them onto her bed to sort them, “some might consider it rude to sneer at another person’s home.”
“This is not your home. Gemini Island should be your home.” Jani ran his finger over her dusty dresser. With a frown, he brushed his hand on his cargo pants.
“Christ. I had no idea you were such a clean freak. Let me guess. At home, you put plastic runners on your carpets.”
“Just finish packing.” He put his hands on his hips and looked around while she packed. Upon spotting a dubious stain on the wall over her bed, he moved closer to inspect it and the lines on his forehead grew deeper. “Good God, Fleur. How on earth did you sleep in this dump for two weeks? The smell alone…and those stains on the wall. I think they’re bodily fluids.”
“It was all I could afford, okay? Could you stop making me feel like Little Orphan Annie? We don’t all live in a castle with our princely cousins.”
“Actually, I don’t live in the castle. I live in a modest house on the castle estate.”
“Oh, excuse me. And how many rooms does your modest house have?”
“Never mind that.”
“So, upwards of ten?”
His lips thinned as he absorbed her point. “I’m not trying to make comparisons. I know I have it good. You deserve better, that’s all.”
She forgave him his comments, knowing he meant well. Surely he didn’t mean to sound judgmental. After all, he likely had a series of butlers back home in Budapest, one for each of his rooms. She couldn’t expect a man like Jani to understand where she came from. No doubt his biggest problem in life was figuring out where to park his yacht.
Sighing, Fleur returned to the task at hand. She rifled through her closet and chose some outfits that were suitable for the September chill. However, Jani soon made his derision apparent again. Before she could get halfway through her packing job, he peered inside her duffle bag and inspected her clothes. She tried to ignore him but every time she tossed an item into the bag, Jani pulled it out and gave it the once-over. Some, he put back in the bag. Others, he threw back into her closet.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, after he’d tossed the fifth shirt.
“I’m helping you pack.”
This was him helping? “But you’re unpacking.” She retrieved one of the shirts he’d discarded, her favorite distressed T-shirt, and shoved it into the bag. “I want this one.”
“But it’s got holes in the breast area.”
“I know. It took me a couple of years to distress it properly.”
“Distressed means worn thin, not worn through.”
“Jani, I do wear a bra.”
He rolled his eyes. “Sometimes.”
“Maybe that’s the sort of detail you shouldn’t admit to noticing, good friend.”
“I can hardly help but notice,” he said under his breath. “And so will everyone else.”
Biting her tongue, she proceeded to pack a pair of jeans, but Jani pulled them back out again.
“These look very tight. You might as well wear assless chaps.”
She decided not to tell him she had a pair of those tucked into the back of her closet. “Jani, these are my clothes. If my fashion sense offends you so much, you know where the door is.”
“I’m not offended. I would just like to see you dressed in something that covers more than your nipples.”
Fleur couldn’t come up with a comeback. It was all she could do to clap her jaw shut.
“That came out wrong. Look,” he explained as the vein at his temple throbbed. “You’re trying to make a fresh start. I want to help you. I’m simply suggesting a good way to begin might be to burn your more questionable clothing choices.”
“Are you saying I should dress like an old librarian?”
“No,” he ground out. “But it wouldn’t hurt to include some new items in your wardrobe. You know, ones that weren’t purchased from a roadie at an AC/DC concert.” He picked up one of her tank tops, the one with the “Highway to Hell” logo emblazoned on it, and tossed it to the floor.
“Hey, I paid ten bucks for that!” She grabbed the top and whipped around to face him. “What is your problem?”
He looked toward the heavens. “Baszd meg.”
“Don’t curse in Hungarian. I won’t know what you’re saying.”
“Just pack some other things. Why does everything have to be a confrontation with you?”
“Because…because you make me confrontational. Now why are you really picking apart my clothes?”
Jani stepped foward, green danger flashing in his eyes. “You want to know the truth? Fine. These clothes make you look like a preening peacock. If you want people to take you seriously, you can’t dress like a hooker.”
Tempted to take another swing at him, Fleur shoved her hands into her pockets. “I dress like a modern woman who is comfortable in her own skin. Get used to it, tiger. Besides, my nun’s habit is at the cleaners.”
“I don’t expect you to dress like a nun, but you should dress like a woman who has some pride.”
Fleur’s wolf howled its melancholy. His comments hit home, as horrible as they sounded. She sure as hell wasn’t about to admit it, though. Jani Fodor should learn to keep his outdated opinions to himself. If he didn’t correct his attitude, she’d correct it for him.
And this from the man who thought black cargo pants were a fashion statement.
She chose a few more outfits, turning her back on his piercing gaze. As she stomped to the bathroom to grab her toiletries, she noticed she was huffing and puffing and had to school herself with some calm thoughts.
I will not murder Jani in his sleep. I will not tear Jani limb from limb. I will not buy a Jani voodoo doll and stock up on pins.
However, her “calm” thoughts only succeeded in driving her spirit animal into more of a frenzy. The beast wailed inside her core, despondent.
He wanted her to dress like a woman who had some pride. When had she last experienced that emotion? Had she ever?
In her family home, no one had ever hung the pictures she’d drawn as a child. No one had ever patted her on the back to say she’d done well in school. Her mom had been too high to notice most of the time, and her dad hadn’t cared. Teachers at school had her labeled as one of the “bad kids” as soon as she arrived, and she hadn’t socialized with anyone who’d been interested in her as a person.
She wasn’t sure how it felt to be proud of herself. The only time she’d ever come close to experiencing a blush of pride on her cheeks was battling the Alpha Brethren with Jani the day the folks from the Ursa Lodge struck the compound. It was the first time she’d ever let herself stand up and be counted. She’d chosen the side of good that day.
But God, it was hard to be good. The only times she’d ever received positive reinforcement were when she played up her looks or let men use her. It wasn’t that she was passionate about wearing provocative clothes. Most of the time, she was happiest in sweats. However, a part of her always worried she’d never be accepted for being “normal.”
Her early relationships cemented the pattern. Her first boyfriend, a wolf shifter named Ricky, had always demanded she wear revealing outfits. He’d been older than her, a fair bit older, and ready for sex on day one. Fleur, on the other hand, had been far too young to make that decision for herself. She knew it now and acknowledged Ricky had taken advantage, but she hadn’t realized it then. Flattered by the attention and eager to please a man who seemed sophisticated, she’d given her virginity to Ricky at the age of thirteen.
Even though she’d thought having sex would give her confidence, her self-esteem had taken a hit instead.
Come on, Fleur, Ricky used to say, after teaching her how to give a blowjob. You know you’re never as pretty as when you’re on your knees.
Her father used to offer such compliments to her mom, as well. The same father who used to remind Fleur she was “trash.”
You can take the girl out of the trailer, but you can’t take the trailer out of the girl. How often did she get to hear that gem? Weekly? Biweekly? Often enough the words still sounded in her head on a regular basis.
Hot bile burned a path up her throat, scoring the soft tissues. She dropped her duffle bag and then dropped to her knees before the toilet, sure she was about to puke. Regret simmered in her stomach, but also anger. Fleur clutched the rim of the toilet and leaned over, flushing once for good measure. The water swirled, descending in its cyclonic pattern, blurring the rust stains in the bowl.
She wished she could disappear down the drain too. Disappear. Right. No matter how far she ran, her demons followed. When August Crane lured her into the Alpha Brethren, she’d seen it as a means of escape. She’d been so wrong. Closing her eyes, she waited for the acids in her gut to settle.
Two large hands cupped her shoulders. Out of habit, she flinched. Ever since Crane hit her that last time, she’d been flinching a lot. A part of her still expected every touch to end in a beating. She opened her eyes and looked over her shoulder.
It was only Jani, of course. He held up one hand in a gesture of supplication. “Let me help you.”
She nodded, as wary as a bird with a broken wing.
He knelt next to her. His strained features let her know he felt as badly about their argument as she did.
Why did they keep hurting each other? Weren’t they capable of having a normal conversation?
Jani ran a gentle hand over her hair and then gathered her long locks into a loose ponytail, holding it up and away from her face. “There. You can be sick now.”
“Thanks for the permission.”
He cast his gaze toward the floor.
“You think I dress like a hooker.”
His broad chest heaved with a sigh. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Please accept my apologies. It seems everything I say comes out wrong around you.”
“I know the feeling. Don’t sweat it. You and me, we’re like gasoline and fire.”
“Explosive.”
And not always in a good way. She leaned back, confident the urge to vomit had passed. “You can let go of my hair now.”
He did, but not as quickly as one would expect. Jani stroked one hand through the strands, arranging them around her face, tucking a lock behind her ear. The feel of his fingers in her hair and near her neck was as sensuous as the glide of silk over bare skin. Or, at least, how she imagined silk would feel. She’d never worn such a luxurious fabric. When he pulled his hand away, her wolf issued a garbled cry.
“I would never presume to tell a woman how to dress,” he said. “At least, I never have before. But something about you…about your situation…makes me react like a Neanderthal.”
“So you don’t really think I resemble a call
girl out for a night on the town?”
Jani winced. “Could you please stop repeating my poorly-chosen words back to me?”
“It’s okay. I get it. I get you. I think. I know you want better for me.”
“I do.”
“But Jani, I can’t be your pet project. This isn’t Pygmalion.”
“You know Pygmalion?”
“Hey, I may not have finished high school, but I know fucking Pygmalion.” She stood and vacated the bathroom, plunking herself down on the squeaky bed.
Jani stood and followed, a new gleam in his eyes. “You didn’t finish high school?”
Oh brother. She’d just given him new cause to ride her ass. Nice move, Fleur. Should have kept your big trap shut.
“You can still get your high school diploma, Fleur. It’s not too late.”
“Sure it is. I’m twenty-eight. There’s no way I’m stepping foot in a classroom now. The kids will laugh at me.”
“They do have programs for adults.”
“Yeah. So I’ve been told.”
“Okay. So what do you want to do with your life?”
What did she want to do? She supposed she couldn’t spend her entire life chasing drug lord shape-shifters. At some point, she’d need an actual job that involved more than spilling stale beer.
When she imagined herself at a job interview, the interviewer had her father’s face and voice. Tell me about your skills. Wait. You don’t have any.
“Fleur?”
“I don’t know.”
“There must be something.”
“I always fantasized about being a…never mind. It’s stupid.”
“No, it’s not,” Jani persisted, reaching for her hand and squeezing it. “Tell me.”
“I used to like photography. I even put a portfolio together right before I entered the Alpha Brethren.” She stood and walked over to the far corner of the room where she’d piled the three boxes that contained all her earthly belongings. Flipping up one box lid, she retrieved a worn scrapbook. It wasn’t even a real portfolio, but it held her favorite photos, ones she’d snapped in the woods near her childhood home. Without looking inside, she walked back to Jani, sat down on the bed, and handed the book to him.