Chapter Two
Tamara
Tamara thumbed through one of the paperbacks she’d packed. Since she was nine, books had been her comfort and best friend. The only ones Adele would allow.
Tamara closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about how her mother had used her. Dangling her like a chum bucket in shark-infested waters. But Adele Brennan wanted a rich shark and wasn’t afraid to use any method necessary.
But now, with Creole so close Tamara felt her heart race a little harder in her chest. She was hyper-aware of how alone she was. The campgrounds were deserted. Late morning on a Monday was when everyone left, Tamara learned.
With hooded eyes, she watched the fire crackle and pop as vegetables roasted in a small cast iron frying pan. A freshly cleaned trout sizzled and her mouth watered. She’d been hungry so long. Not just for food, although Adele didn’t keep a full pantry. Rich sharks didn’t like plus-sized women. Hungry for touch. Longing for the safety of a home. Being surrounded by loved ones, and to finally, one day – feel she had enough to eat.
Tamara hugged herself. Touch was hard since that time. Since Mr. Elliot. Even after years of therapy, learning it wasn’t her fault, trying to wipe away the sight of Cree’s cougar ripping out Mr. Elliot’s throat, Tamara still wasn’t sure she was whole yet.
With dirty fingers, she cleared a smudge away from her wrists. She forced herself to look at the scars from the restraints she’d fought against. Reminding herself that her time in a psych hospital was nothing compared to what Creole endured. What Creole had endured for her.
For whatever reason, Adele thought living in the trailer park was going to help her catch a shark. Tamara hadn’t minded so much, especially when she met Creole and his mom had lived two doors down.
Creole and Mr. Elliot were intertwined at a visceral level in Tamara’s memories. A broad-shouldered boy of fifteen, Creole hadn’t minded her tagging along after him. He had taken one look at the pale scrawny human and resolved to be her protector.
No one at school or in the neighborhood could tease her, steal her lunch money, or pull her braids without a follow-up visit by Creole James.
But, that was also the summer she met Mr. Elliot.
Mr. Elliot charmed her mother with his icky, greasy, over the top compliments. He had wormed his way into Adele’s good graces and moved in after only two weeks.
Once he was firmly settled in their two-bedroom trailer, Elliot had turned his evil, twisted eyes on her. Tamara shivered with the memory of his beady eyes and clammy hands.
The next step on her memory’s journey took her to the place she didn’t like to visit. She had, many times over the years with her therapist. But it was a memory she didn’t dust off and parade around often.
“Mountain Lions don’t generally like fires near their territory.”
Tamara looked up, unsurprised to see Creole standing there, taller, broader, older than when he’d been sentenced for killing Mr. Elliot.
A hair under six feet, he was tawny and muscular with stunning green eyes. The light brown hair on his arms gave him a golden glow. His mile-wide shoulders blocked the sky and intriguing tattoos playing peek-a-boo with his shirt. Her gaze traveled down to legs that rivaled tree trunks.
Tamara gulped, not quite sure this McMonster Mountain Lion was her sweet Creole.
“It’s a small fire, Creole James” Tamara defended quietly. She stood, offering him her plate as she prepared to find her spare. “Are you hungry?” She prayed he didn’t hear the soft rumblings in her belly, wouldn’t insult her pride. Today she had enough to share. It was enough.
“It’s just Cree now.” Creole gently accepted the plate from her small hand and sat on a log next to her.
“Your mother called you Creole.” Tamara found her second plate and took a serving. She lifted her fork to indicate he should eat his lunch. “You will always be Creole to me.”
His nostrils flared as he inhaled her scent and icy green eyes scanned her. Hurt emanated from him in waves, but Tamara expected that. “My handler told me you were dead.”
Tamara’s eyes dropped, and she nodded. “Adele told me. I didn’t know until just a few years ago. She knew you’d track me the day you were released so she told everyone I was dead knowing it would get back to you.” She flinched slightly when she felt Creole’s fingers stroke her shoulder-length hair.
“I would have searched the world for you.”
Tamara closed her eyes against the pain in his words. His voice.
“Adele told me if I didn’t behave she would make sure you never got out of jail. Make sure you could never find me. I think sometimes it was just talk, but I refused to gamble with your freedom.”
Creole lifted a questioning eyebrow. “I wasn’t in that long. Only a few weeks. The charges were downgraded, and I was released to a work camp until I was eighteen.”
Tamara nodded, wanting to tell him her testimony had downgraded the charges but couldn’t find her courage. Not yet. She would tell him later, she promised. “I kept waiting for you to find me. Craving and fearing it at the same time. I wanted you to find me but was so afraid Adele would follow up on her threats.”
His hand lifted again, involuntarily, to touch her but he put it back on his leg. “I thought I would have to wait until the next life to hold you again.” His voice rasped over Tamara’s with enough pain to humble her. “I have so many questions. I don’t even know where to start.”
“I had to follow Adele’s rules,” she said on a ghost of a whisper. “I begged her not to hurt you or try and extend your time past your eighteenth birthday. So, we made a deal. I would behave. Go to school. Be quiet and docile. In return, she would never bring another one of her boyfriends around me.”
The muscle in Creole’s jaw tightened. “Did anyone? I mean, you had no one there to protect you.” A soft growl rumbled in his throat.
Tamara’s eyes filled with tears. Even after all these years, he still wanted to protect her. Very carefully, avoiding all other contact, Tamara stroked the back of his hand with her index finger. “You taught me to protect myself.”
His fists clenched, and he nodded.
“Adele told me you died, too.” Tamara wiped at her cheeks, angry with the futile sign of weakness. “Knowing you’d never come –thinking you had died believing I was dead–was a double-edged sword. It killed something inside of me, too.”
“I wish I had been there.” She could tell he was holding back. By the look in Cree’s eyes, he had a definite opinion about Adele.
Tamara took a deep, shuddering breath and lifted her brown eyes to his. “You were with me. Here.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Always.”
“Did you really think I was that weak? That I’d fall for your mother’s traps to keep me in their cage?” Anger warred with something inside him – pity? Sympathy? Pride?.
“I was nine years old, Creole.” Tamara looked into his vibrant green eyes. “I knew you could handle yourself, but I was afraid they’d trap you and keep you caged or, or you know. Put down!”
Cree
Cree couldn’t help the deep, shuddering breath he took. He never thought he’d be this close to Tamara again. His fingers tingled with the longing to stroke her golden hair, tilt her chin, look into her dark chocolate eyes.
As a shifter, he was very good at reading body language. From the tightness in her shoulders, to the way she avoided his eyes, to the way she flinched, Tamara clearly communicated that she didn’t want to be touched.
Her hand twitched. “I was protecting you!”
“A human girl protecting a near-grown mountain lion?”
“Don’t mock me.” Her eyes were fierce. Jaw set. Her voice was chilly and controlled in the August sun.
Cree was ashamed of himself. He should have remembered their bond was deeper than that, but the sharp memories had waned in the last decade.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I’m sorry.” He shrugged. “I always felt it
was my job to protect you. Not the other way around.”
“Well, get over it.,” Tamara retorted.
Seeing her again stirred up long-buried emotions. The wind caught her hair, sending a wave of her pheromones his way. Swamping him in memories from the last time he’d scented her fear.
He was in the tool shed behind his mother’s trailer, working on a surprise for Tamara. By salvaging and garbage picking, Cree managed to collect enough parts to build her a bicycle.
His ears twitched. Was Tams crying? His shoulders stiffened, and he put his wrench down. As he got closer to her home, the shards of her fear scent slapped him across his face. Cree picked up his pace, determined to find her.
The trailer door was no match for his strength. Neither was the thin louver door which splintered like toothpicks in the wind when he kicked it down. Cree stood, panting, his green eyes meeting Tamara’s precious brown ones over the humped back of her mom’s boyfriend.
Worry for her safety ramped immediately to blind fucking fury. He shifted without thought. Tamara was so tiny and fragile compared to the monster stealing her childhood. Still intent on his actions, the bastard barely turned his head at Cree’s interruption, but in that half-second before death, the savage’s eyes dilated.
There was no time to beg for mercy. No time for lies. Nothing but observance and lightning fast retribution. Creole leaped to Tamara’s dresser, assessing angle, speed, and direction simultaneously. From the high spot, ambushing the bastard was child’s play. Catching him by the throat and taking him down.
Cree bit with every ounce of power his predator’s jaw possessed. Sharp teeth came down on Elliot’s frail human neck. Throat and sinews were no match for his cat’s fury. With a sharp jerk of his neck, warm blood spurted, scattering the monster’s life force into the wind. The bastard was dead, dragged away by two sets of three-inch canine teeth.
As long as he lived, Cree would never forget the look in her eyes when he’d ripped the bastard off of her. The nightmare of blood, Tamara’s screams, and handcuffs when the police were called.
Cree didn’t realize his breathing grew ragged until he felt Tamara’s tentative finger trace his hand. “Are you okay?” she whispered.
Cree swallowed, forcing himself to look at her. To see her as she was today. Tall. Willowy. Proud. Stunning in the afternoon sun. “I am now that you’re here.”
Creole’s lips quirked and he inhaled, his cat calming a little, knowing their little human was safe and nearby. The desire to pounce and claim was still strong, but with her sitting so close he tamped it down
Touching was out. Cree was normally a solitary man and definitely not given to casual touch. But the desire to stroke Tamara was powerful. He settled on basking in her scent. A little fear was there, but not overpowering.
Absently, more for something to do than out of hunger, he ate the trout and vegetables she prepared. “Let’s eat lunch,” he suggested softly. Tamara’s anxiety was strong. He felt her panicked heart beating wildly against his own heart.
“It looks good,” Creole said, breaking the awkward silence. Tamara nodded and blushed, ashamed of her meager offering.
“It isn’t much,” she began but was cut off by the feather-light touch of his finger against her lips.
“You made it. That’s all I care about.”
Tamara smiled shyly up at him through her hair, and Cree felt like the most powerful man in the universe. They would work through her fears, even if it took a lifetime.
Cree glanced around the campsite. “Is this where you’re staying?”
“Adele thinks I’m in college.”
Cree frowned. Again, with the use of her mother’s first name. As if Tamara no longer recognized the relationship. There was more to the story. Cree wanted every last detail, but he tamped down his cat’s natural curiosity.
“You don’t have a place to stay?”
“I didn’t think that far ahead.” Tamara chuckled. “Find you. Figure out the rest of my life later.”
“How did you find me?”
“Newspaper article.” Tamara stood to get the page she printed. She handed it to him. “I recognized you immediately.”
The headline read, Local Shifters Save Hikers and Children.
“Yeah, that was crazy. Fire up in one of the line shacks. I had no idea the article was picked up outside of the area.” Cree frowned. “Where did Adele take you?”
“Phoenix.”
Cree snorted. “Had I known where to look, I would have found you on the moon, Tams.”
Tamara nodded, pushing the food on her plate more than eating it. “Not that I wanted you in jail. Or juvie. Or anything. But I think after Mr. Elliot.” Her voice caught, and Cree restrained himself from offering comfort. “I needed a lot of therapy, Creole. They put me in a hospital for a while. I couldn’t have gotten that kind of care otherwise. I missed a lot of school.” Her laugh was more nervous than humorous. “I was a wreck.”
The words made sense, but they still wounded him.
“I’m sorry,” Tamara said, her eyes dropping. “That I’m a disappointment to you. I haven’t been touched in years.”
“That is my problem, not yours. I will try to remember. I’m a cat, though, Tams. Touch is important to us.”
“I know. I want to get better.”
“But do you know what’s even more important?” Cree continued, answering his own question. “You are. Patience is fine. You’re here. Alive. Everything else is icing on a cake.”
“For now,” Tamara clarified.
He tilted his head to look at her better. “What does that mean?”
“It means.” Tamara bit her lip, struggling for the words. “Oh, I don’t know. That I’m here for now. I wanted to see you. See if you married.” Her finger traced the outline of the newspaper, centering on the woman with long blonde hair. “I’ll figure out the rest in time.”
“I’m not married.” That stabbing sensation occurred in his chest again at the mention of losing her. “You’re my mate, Tams. I thought you knew that?”
Her cheeks flushed. “I suspected.” Her dark eyes darted up to look at him. “There wasn’t anything. I mean. When we were kids?”
“No, of course not. We were just kids, but my cat knew. It wasn’t anything dirty like that. Being around you made me smile. I was content to be with you.” He lifted one shoulder. “The rest would have come as we matured. But no. I would never have pushed you before you were ready. Coming together would have been as natural as breathing.”
“So, you don’t mind if I stay?”
Mind? his mind shouted with disbelief. “No. In fact, it would be an honor. I can take you to my place for tonight. I’m not set up for company, though. I’ll call my friend Quinn. He has a spare cabin on his property.”
“Oh, I don’t want to put anyone out.” She protested, but Cree scented hope. For the first time, Tamara might feel at home somewhere.
“You aren’t. Quinn’s mate.” Cree pointed to the blonde in the picture. “That’s Lacey. They run a small shifter half-way house type resort. Guys in need of a place to stay before rejoining the world.”
“From what I’ve seen, shifters probably need a place like that.”
“They do,” Cree said in agreement. “Anyway, Lacey is bound and determined to keep us all close to her in the cabins on the property.”
“It sounds cute.”
“It has its charm.”
“Like you?” she asked, gently flirting with him.
Creole nodded, but his cat preened. “Let’s clean up. Put out the fire. You can follow me up. I will take you back to my place. We can talk. You can rest.” Their eyes met, and Creole longed to brush a kiss against her lips. “You look exhausted, Tams.”
She nodded. “I am.”
While she packed up her supplies, Cree put out the fire.
Now found, he wasn’t going to risk her bolting by his clumsy behavior. A scant few things in this world belonged to him, and he had no intention
of losing the most precious one again.
Chapter Three
Tamara
“This is where you live?” The drive up from town was long and winding with switchbacks and sharp curves.
“The view is worth it.” Cree led her to the small front porch. In the late afternoon sun, they could see for miles. “I’ve got Tennessee in my backyard,” he teased.
The color variations were exquisite. Every shade of green imaginable lay before Tamara. Dark verdant green to the bluish trees that gave the range its name. Cottonball-shaped clouds dotted the sky against a backdrop of endless blue.
“It almost looks not real. Like a movie backdrop or something.”
“Waking up every morning and seeing this is the best part of my day.”
“I bet. I wouldn’t mind waking up to that view either.” Tamara blushed as she realized what she just said. Would Creole take it as an invitation?
Creole’s gaze grew hooded. “Maybe someday you will.” He waved a hand, inviting her to sit on the porch. “Your mom doesn’t know where you are?”
Tamara rolled her eyes. “I told her I was going to college.”
“Will she call the police? Demand you go back to Phoenix?”
“I don’t know how she could. I’m a high school graduate and a legal adult. If I don’t want to live with my… with Adele any longer, why is that the police’s business?”
“You don’t call her Mother anymore?”
Tamara licked her lips. “Can I get a drink?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Of course. Sorry.” Cree stammered, jumping up to get her a drink. “Is water okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. A little ice, too, please.”
Tamara followed him inside, already feeling the tug of needing to be in the same room with him. She wasn’t sure she liked it, but she needed it.
“Adele stopped being my mother the day she traded me for one of her boyfriends,” Tamara said. She hugged herself, hands tight on her forearms. Self-comfort was the only comfort she allowed.
Creole stopped, hands in mid-air as the ice slipped into the tumbler. “What?”
Her Mountain Lion Mate (Shifter Special Forces Book 3) Page 2