Control

by Mary Calmes

  I struggled. He tightened his grip, lifted me up, tossed me over his shoulder, and slapped my ass before carrying me across the street.

  He set me roughly down in front of the closed aromatherapy boutique and grasped hold of my face before I could say a word.

  “Stop. Please stop,” he pleaded hoarsely. “You’re leaking pheromones, and it’s making me crazy.”

  The way his voice cracked, the way he was acting, like losing control was really horrible instead of really hot, like succumbing to his beast would be the absolute worst possible thing imaginable… all of it cleared my head.

  He trembled violently, clenched his jaw, and balled his hands into fists. I watched him fight, watched him stamp down the animal trying desperately to claw its way out of his chest. It was amazing and terrifying at the same time. I was impressed by the amount of energy he exerted to remain human, but I didn’t understand the need for such a display. We were far enough away—he could shift and disappear into the night. Why the need to rule the animal within?

  But at the moment, the why wasn’t important, only the fight was, and I wanted him to win, to remain human, because I wasn’t sure what losing the battle would do to him.

  He was a gentle man, a patient man; that much I already knew. Looking at him reminded me that maybe there was another choice, a better life than the one I’d been living.

  “Fuck!” he rasped, obviously in pain.

  Rippling energy almost sparked off him, sweat plastered his shirt to his chest and abdomen, and he smelled absolutely delicious.

  I wanted to attack, to ravish him, but more than that, deeper, I wanted to help. I reached up, wrapped my arms around his neck, and eased him down to me. I opened my lips against the base of his throat and reveled in the feeling of his pulse pounding under my mouth. He jolted in my arms, and I sucked hard, not the least bit deterred when he shoved his hands under my ass and lifted me into a kiss. He ground his mouth over mine and bumped me into the wall beside the display window of the shop.

  “Vy,” he moaned into my mouth as he pressed against me, taking, devouring, claiming what was his instead of shifting right there.

  All the power in his big, hard body moved from fighting the shift to mauling me. He kneaded my ass hard, gripped my thighs tight, and kissed me deep, shoving his tongue down my throat. I held him through the storm that raged inside him, meeting every passionate advance with my own, writhing against him, kissing him back, not letting him pull away until, finally, he tore free to drag in a great gulp of air.

  Even in the faint glow of the streetlights, I could see his blown pupils and swollen lips. He clung to me and panted, and we stayed there, breathing close, our foreheads pressed together.

  “How did you—” He sucked in another breath. “I was so close, but I… you…. Vy.”

  “I know all about shifting.”

  He nodded and slowly put me back on my feet.

  “I’d like to see your bear someday, if you can trust me enough.”

  His gaze was locked on mine. “You need to understand something.”

  I waited.

  “For me, helping me not to shift—that means more,” he choked.

  “Why don’t you shift?” I pried, because I had to know.

  It wasn’t about something done to him; I already knew he was stronger than that. It was about something he did. I just needed him to tell me so I could explain it wasn’t his fault. Because whatever had happened, I knew he had done it without malice or forethought. He was too good, too kind, for something to have gone down any other way.

  I opened my mouth to talk to him, to plead with him, but the words died in my throat at the sound of my title.

  “Kuar!”

  Stepping in front of Robert, instinctively protecting him, I was faced with Brady Lyman, a member of my ket. He skidded to a stop in front of me, doubled over, put his hands on his knees, and threw up.

  “Brady,” I groaned and stepped back, not wanting to step in vomit. “What the hell are—”

  “It’s Chris,” he heaved out. “Please, my kuar. The pack from White Springs…. Their guys went after him. They hit his car. He’s hurt.”

  I sucked in a breath; the sound was sharp and loud, louder than I intended—a cry. “Where is he?”

  “Lookout Canyon. He’s gonna go over the edge, and he can’t shift. He’s trapped. I would have stayed with him, but Jodie’s there.”

  It made sense, his choice to find me and hers to stay. Of the two of them, Jodie Ruiz, the beautiful, curvy captain of the high school cheerleading squad, was the fiercer predator. At seventeen, she was already a powerful shifter.

  “Let’s go,” I commanded. “My truck’s over here. Show me.”

  “Vy.”

  I glanced over at Robert.

  “I can help.”

  He was my mate, there was no question. Always he could help me.

  “Come on.”

  Four

  Robert

  THE DRIVE to the cliff where the boy—Chris Miller—was trapped didn’t take long. Vy peeled over to the side of the road and jumped out of the car before the dust had a chance to settle. Brady wasn’t far behind him.

  I peered through the windshield and saw a silver minivan teetering on the edge of the steep incline. It was flipped on its side with the back end hanging past the point where the land ended and pitch-black empty space began. Even more disconcerting was the sound of rock cracking off and rolling down. It seemed the thinner ground near the edge of the cliff couldn’t hold the weight of the vehicle, and so it was crumbling. Of course, that meant the support holding up the van was getting smaller, which was probably why the van was rocking.

  “Chris!” Vy shouted. “Get out of the car!”

  Bears have great hearing. Didn’t matter that I hadn’t shifted in decades; I could hear the kid’s breathless voice.

  “I can’t,” he sobbed. “I’m stuck. The door crumpled and the steering wheel’s against my chest and… I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die.”

  “I told you to quit saying that!” the young female shouted.

  “You’re not going to die,” Brady added, and then he paused and in a hopeful tone said, “Right, Kuar?”

  Choosing not to answer him, Vy instead snapped, “You need to get out of the car right now.”

  Unfortunately, his order didn’t work. The boy kept crying and chanting, “I’m gonna die,” over and over again.

  “Chris, listen to me. You need to calm down.” Vy was using what I assumed was intended to be a soothing tone. It was calmer than his normally gruff, demanding voice, but I wouldn’t exactly call it bedtime-story relaxing. Well, I’d relax if he told me a story in bed in that voice, but that was probably more because of the bed and him part than anything he’d be saying or the way he’d be saying it. “You can’t shift if you’re too tense. Your muscles are locked up. You need to relax so you can shift, and then you’ll be able to fly out of there.”

  I heard a loud crash and jerked my gaze toward the cliff, where I saw rocks rolling down at an increasing pace. We were running out of time. Apparently, the realization didn’t escape Chris, probably because the van was tilting further down and starting to slide.

  “I’m gonna die!”

  “Shift!” Vy screeched, his patience seemingly gone in a fit of worry.

  I doubted Vy’s shouts would help Chris shift because they were unlikely to calm him. Thankfully, I’d spent years mastering ways to achieve a relaxed state. The alternative was losing myself to my bear form during times of anger or frustration, which was unacceptably dangerous. So instead, I’d learned to meditate and do yoga.

  Yes, yoga. Six-foot-four-inch, two-hundred-ten-pound me regularly sat cross-legged on the floor with my arms at my sides, thumbs and middle fingers pressed together, and eyes closed. Namaste.

  “Obey!”

  At the sound of Vy reaching his breaking point, along with what sounded like the cliff doing the same, I opened the truck door and stepped out. “May
be I can help.”

  The girl—Jodie—screeched loudly and flipped around. She was taken off guard, apparently not having realized anyone was waiting in the truck. “You’re not ket!” She glared at me and threw her arms to the side in what I assumed was an attempt to block me from Chris and Vy. It was charmingly naive.

  “I’m with Vy,” I explained.

  She made an odd sound in the back of her throat, a warning or maybe a threat.

  “I think I can help your friend.” As I spoke, I bent my knees slightly, hunched my shoulders, and lowered my neck. It was an odd position, but it cut a few inches off my height, which tended to make people feel less intimidated.

  She was torn. It was all over her face: take the chance to trust me or stand guard.

  Not that she had a chance of keeping me away if I charged forward, but forcing my way into the situation wasn’t what I wanted to do. Not then or any other time.

  “I will take your eyes if you don’t move!” Vy warned her from his position next to the van, apparently having no reservation about how to get Jodie to step aside.

  I raised my gaze to tell him I had it under control and noticed that he had both hands on the edge of the window, his feet braced on the ground, and the sides of his neck were bulging. He was trying to keep the van from slipping. Strong as he was, no way could he do that on his own, not when the rocky edge was crumbling more every second.

  Dammit, we were out of time.

  “Please,” I said to Jodie imploringly. Either she’d step aside, or I’d bodily move her. I was really hoping for the former. “I only want to help.”

  Jodie lowered her chin and arms, leaving me room to pass. I leaped toward the van and landed on the furthest end just as it was rising from the ground to begin its slide down the hill.

  “I’ll hold the van,” I told Vy. “You get him out.”

  He flicked his eyes toward me, and I saw how scared he was. Whatever anger I’d thought I heard in his tone wasn’t because of impatience or frustration with a ket member who wasn’t listening; it was due to fear.

  “I can’t reach him,” Vy said. “He’s too far, and I’m worried about adding weight to the wrong end of this thing and making it drop. That’s why he needs to shift.” He looked into the car. “Chris, dammit, shift!”

  “Chris,” I said quietly. “My name’s Robert. Nice night, isn’t it?”

  It was a ridiculous question, which was why Vy furrowed his brow and looked at me like I was new. But I wasn’t, and my strategy worked: Chris was thrown off enough to answer without thinking.

  “Uh, yeah.” He gulped. “Yes, sir.”

  I wondered whether he was so polite that he referred to everyone that way or whether he was reacting to my deep voice.

  “Why don’t you shift so you can come on out of there and enjoy it with us?”

  “I can’t. I tried but I can’t. I think maybe I damaged—”

  “Have you ever done yoga?”

  That question did not help me move off Vy’s “He’s Crazy” list. If anything, I went up in the rankings.

  “Uh, no.”

  The van made a horrible sound, like metal stretching and snapping, and I felt it buck. I used every ounce of strength I had to hold it in place; it wasn’t easy fighting gravity.

  “Well, good thing I’m here.” I breathed in, trying to prevent my voice from shaking due to the exertion it took to keep the van from plummeting off the cliff when more than half of it was, at that point, hanging over thin air. Once I knew I had myself under control, I continued. “I want you to close your eyes.” I paused. “Are they closed?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “That’s good. Can you feel your arms?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  More rocks fell, and one side of the vehicle slid further down. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to hold it with all the remaining support literally crumbling away.

  “I want you to focus on your arms, Chris. Think about how they feel.” Slowly, I described what I wanted him to think about. “Your fingertips, your wrists, your forearms, your biceps, your shoulders.”

  I could hear his breathing slow, and I tried to make mine do the same.

  “Now I want you to do it again, but this time, I want you to imagine your wings. Think about the feathers at the very tip being ruffled by the wind. Think about spreading them wide and flapping until you’re in the sky. Think about—”

  I heard a squawk, and then a brown-and-cream hawk flew out of the smashed-in window.

  “He’s out!” Vy shouted, sounding relieved.

  “Step back,” I warned him, my teeth gritted. “I can’t hold this van up anymore, and I want you to be clear before I let go.”

  “No. I’m not leaving you to do it alone.”

  Now he was going to argue with me? Damn that proud bird.

  “I’m not doing anything other than waiting for you to move your skinny butt so I can let go of this car. Ain’t no way we’re stopping the inevitable. It’s going to roll down the cliff.”

  “My butt isn’t skinny!”

  I panned over to him and arched my eyebrows.

  His eyes widened and his cheeks reddened, and then he stepped away from the van and headed to where the teenagers were huddled together. Once I knew Vy was a safe distance away, I released my grip and jumped back. It took no more than a few seconds for the van to slide off the precipice and roll down the rocky incline.

  I stretched forward and watched it tumble because, let’s face it, there was loud banging and stuff flying, and it was pretty cool. Once the show was over, I turned around and headed toward Vy. He was standing next to the road, his arms crossed over his chest, watching a car drive away. I assumed the teenagers were in it, because they were no longer within eye range. I scented others in the area, probably in the woods on the other side of the street, but they weren’t my concern.

  “Is Chris okay?” I asked.

  “He’ll heal.” Vy slowly turned around and dragged his fingers through his hair.

  Right away, I noticed two things: First, his hand was trembling. Second, he was favoring his right leg. How had I missed him getting hurt? My stomach lurched.

  “Are you wounded?” I asked, dropping to a squat and gently running my hand over his leg.

  “They lied to me,” he grumbled and stared off in the direction where the car had gone.

  I rucked up his jean leg and looked for signs of injury. I didn’t see any blood.

  “They said they don’t know why the wolves went after Chris, but Jodie couldn’t even meet my eyes. They know.”

  “Does it hurt to put weight on it?”

  He glanced down. “What’re you doing?”

  I gently poked at his calf. “What about that? Does that hurt?”

  “I’m fine!” He started leaning down to push me away, but then he winced and grabbed his shoulder.

  Shooting to my feet, I said, “Is your arm hurt?”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he growled. He shook his head in disgust and tried to stomp away. But the limp was making it impossible to achieve the same impact.

  I wrapped my arm around his waist. “Lean on me.”

  He opened his mouth and sucked in a breath, like he was getting ready to rant, but then his posture softened and he pressed against me. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” I helped walk him over to the side of his truck. “It looks like you strained something in your leg and your arm. Maybe somewhere else too.” I opened the passenger door and started to lift him.

  “What’re you doing?” He looked at me like I was crazy.

  “Helping you get into the truck.”

  “It’s my truck, Mama Bear. I’m driving. And even if I wasn’t, I don’t need you to pick me up like I’m some damn weakling. I’m the kuar of my ket. I’m perfectly able to—”

  “I know who you are, and I know what you’re capable of, but right now you’re hurt.”

  He glared.

  “Ple
ase let me take care of you. I—” I licked my lips and swallowed hard. “I want to.”

  After narrowing his eyes and staying silent for a couple of seconds, he gave me a sharp nod. “Fine. You can drive. But I’m getting in the damn truck by myself.”

  I stood by, keeping my arms outstretched, ready to catch him if he lost his balance.

  “Quit hovering and get behind the fucking wheel, Mama Bear, before I change my mind!”

  When he was seated, I reached for his seat belt, intending to buckle him in.

  He socked me in the jaw. It wasn’t a hard shot because of the angle, the injury I suspected he had, and because he probably pulled his punch. Well, those things, and I’m a bear so, yeah, a punch wasn’t going to have much of an impact.

  “All right. All right.” I threw my arms up in surrender. “You’ve made your point.” I closed his door, jogged around the front of the car, opened the driver’s door, and hopped in.

  “How is it you’re perfectly fine?” Vy asked accusingly.

  I turned on the car and started pulling out. “What do you mean?”

  “You were essentially holding up a minivan, and it doesn’t look like you broke a sweat. I was holding on before the van was slipping off, and I’m beat to….” He cleared his throat. “I’m a little sore. Why do you seem exactly the same?”

  “I’m strong.” I shrugged and drove back toward town. “Do you live in this direction?”

  “I’m strong too!”

  I’d never met a more stubborn and unnecessarily defensive man in my life. It was charming as hell. “Is that a yes?”

  “What?”

  I glanced at him. “Do you live in this direction?”

  “Oh. Yeah. I’m off Main Street. I have an old cottage I restored.”

  “You got a tub in there?” When he didn’t respond, I flicked my gaze toward him and saw his nostrils were flared, eyes dilated, and mouth gaping. I grinned. “You having dirty thoughts now?”

  “No,” he rasped. “They’re squeaky clean. You said bath, right?”

  I reached over and caressed his knee and thigh. My hand was big enough to curl almost all the way around his leg. “I want you to soak for a bit. It’ll help relax your muscles and soothe some of those aches and pains.”