by Liza Street
Marcus nodded.
“Caitlyn got some condoms for Carter,” Grant said.
“Yeah.” Marcus had found them in the cabin. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Well, Marcus, when two people like each other very much and want to bang it out—”
“Okay, I got it,” Marcus said, realizing what Grant was talking about. “Neither of these women is here for that.”
“If it turns out they are,” Grant said, “make sure they’re as safe as possible. Remember the condoms.”
“Sure, okay, Dad.”
Grant laughed and walked away. Marcus was left alone. Jessica was in the trailer behind him; he could hear her puttering around in there, her footsteps projecting anxiety. He should go in, reassure her that Blythe was okay.
Problem was, nobody was okay. This was so messed up. These Sierra mountains were the prettiest place on earth, with their towering evergreens and the wildflowers blooming in the sun-saturated clearings. A goshawk flew overhead, screaming ki-ki-ki-ki as it swooped in pursuit of prey.
Marcus deserved to be here, and he could appreciate the beauty in his surroundings along with the sharp pang of knowing he could never leave. But Jessica and Blythe deserved freedom.
Sighing, he spun around and marched up to the camp trailer.
“Hey, Micah,” Jessica said when he walked in.
He tried not to smile—her constant guesses at his name were endearing. “Hey, Janice.”
She went on without missing a beat, “Did you talk to Blythe?”
“Yep. She’s safe.”
“Good. Did she say anything? Also, I hope you don’t mind that I made some instant coffee—”
He stepped the rest of the way into the camp trailer. “Look, here’s the thing with Blythe. You’re not going to like it.”
7
Jessica stared at the guy. Something in his face told her she might want to sit down for this news.
She didn’t want bad news. The day had not been great. She’d spent hours feeling bored, and a lot of time in denial. She’d messed with her phone for ages, trying to get a signal of any kind, but without any luck. And then, her phone’s battery ran out as a final fuck you to Jessica’s current predicament.
The one good thing was the trailer. It was tiny and cramped, but cozy. The jalousie windows had thin curtains covering them, and the cushions around the dining table were a cheerful red.
Cozy or not, she didn’t want to hear bad news.
“Is this a good news slash bad news thing,” she asked, “where there are two sides to it? Because if there’s anything good, I want that news first.”
“She’s safe for the moment,” he said.
Jessica leaned heavily against the counter, gripping it in her hands. “Okay, so that is good.”
He didn’t say anything else, but she could sense his gaze on her face, so she looked up.
His expression was hungry, lustful. But that couldn’t be right.
“What is it?” she asked.
He looked away quickly and ran a hand over the scruff on his jaw and chin. “Nothing.”
“Then put me out of suspense. What’s the bad news?”
“Some of the guys here want to fight for her.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Fight for her…how? Why?”
“They want to win her. To claim her as their own.”
“Whether she wants to be won or not,” Jessica guessed.
He nodded.
“That’s sick,” she said. “Like she’s a piece of property. Women are not property.”
He nodded again.
“I have to go to her.” Jessica no longer cared about the cups of instant coffee resting on the tiny counter.
“You can’t do that,” he said.
“Screw that.” She started forward, but he blocked her way. “Why are you being such a bully?”
“It’s for your own safety because you keep insisting on doing stupid shit,” he growled.
“I’m going to kick you in the nuts if you don’t move in five…four…three…two…one.”
He didn’t move. She wondered if he thought he was fast enough to block her kick, but it didn’t really matter, because she wasn’t going to kick him, anyway.
“How did you know I wouldn’t kick you?” she asked.
“I can sense dishonesty.” He shrugged, like that wasn’t some huge revelation.
“Well, I can’t sense dishonesty,” she said, “and I hate all these half-assed answers. So can you tell me what’s going on here? Really?”
“Get your coffee and come outside with me.”
“You don’t get to order me around.” She stuck her tongue out at his back as he left the trailer, but she grabbed not only her mug, but the one she’d poured for him, and she followed him outside.
He faced her, his gray eyes soft and looking surprisingly gentle against the rough whiskers on his face. His bruises were completely gone, except for what looked like a fresh one on his forehead.
“Take your damn coffee,” she said. She’d been so proud of getting the burner to work.
He took the mug from her, but he didn’t take a sip. Instead he stared directly into her eyes and said, “Everything I told you before is true. Every single thing.”
“So you’re telling me that marching off to rescue my friend would be the equivalent of the blond teenager running into the haunted house in a horror movie?”
He cocked his head. “Not how I would’ve worded it, but yeah.”
There was no bullshit in what he was saying.
She went on, “But she’s safe right now. Blythe, I mean. She’s truly okay?”
“Yes.” He pointed to the new bruise on his forehead. “She gave me this, in fact. She’s pretty well set up to defend herself for the next while, and someone’s bringing her food.”
Jessica’s stomach growled. “Speaking of food, Magnus, do you have any?”
“I do. I brought all this with me.” He waved his arm toward a bag on the ground.
She didn’t care how shameless it made her look—she set the cup down immediately and dove for the bag, taking everything out—a loaf of bread, some peanut butter, and a few apples.
Taking an apple in her hand, she bit into it, letting the sweet taste burst over her tongue. “Ohmygosh, I think I love you,” she said.
His gray gaze darkened, and she rolled her eyes. If he couldn’t handle a little hyperbole, then he wouldn’t be able to handle being her friend.
Her friend? She didn’t know this guy.
But anyone who’d bring her food when she was starving…well, okay, he was a friend. She was a simple woman with simple needs.
She took a few more bites of the apple, wiping juice from her chin with the back of her wrist. Then she looked up at the guy again.
“Why did we have to come out here for you to tell me all this stuff?” she asked.
He smirked. “You want the truth?”
“Yes?” She said it like a question, because his smirk made her think maybe she didn’t want the truth after all.
“Because being in that little trailer with you, and your scent filling my nostrils, is making me think naughty things.”
She felt her eyebrows move up toward her hairline. “What?”
He shrugged. “It’s the truth.”
Of all the frickin’ nerve. She couldn’t help but like what he’d said, but she didn’t want him to know that. “Do you want to be wearing my coffee right now?”
“Seems a shame to waste it,” he said.
She went inside the trailer to throw away her apple core. Turning around to go back out, she paused on the threshold to the trailer. The guy was looking at the ground, as if he was ashamed of something.
“Michael?” Jessica said. “You okay?”
“I apologize for being crude,” he said.
Well, if that wasn’t the most adorable thing.
“I’ve forgotten how to flirt,” he added.
She felt bad for him. If he
wanted to flirt with her, she didn’t entirely mind. Even while she recognized this was hardly the place to be flirting, well, what the heck else was she going to do while she was stuck?
“It helps when there’s alcohol,” she said.
Taking a step closer to her, he said, “Are you telling me you want some flirting?”
“Um.” She bit her lip. “I’m not saying anything. Except I have some tequila in my backpack.”
Going back into the trailer, she found her backpack and pulled the tequila from it. The giant bottle was three quarters full, even after sipping from it yesterday with Blythe.
Just yesterday, she thought. That was when their biggest problem had been an asshole professor and the need to get cell reception to call for a ride into town.
The stark difference between yesterday and today hit her suddenly, and she felt her knees go weak. Her eyes filled with tears. What was she doing, getting tequila when she should be railing against that stupid invisible wall that she’d spent most of her day smacking and kicking? Eventually it had to give, didn’t it?
The tequila bottle clunked on the linoleum floor of the trailer and she crouched down next to it, wrapping her arms around her knees. She closed her eyes and wondered if she’d ever get up.
She knew she was being melodramatic, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care. This place didn’t make any sense. People didn’t get stuck in invisible bubble worlds full of magical creatures.
What was going to happen to her?
“Hey, I got you.” Warm arms came around her, along with an earthy, mossy scent.
“I want to go home,” she said.
He went still and said, “Jacqueline, remember how I can scent dishonesty?”
“Yeah.”
“Well,” he said, “what you said isn’t true. I don’t know why you don’t want to go home, but you don’t.”
“Oh. I guess you’re right.” She sniffled. Home would suck, too; there, she would be stuck for entirely different reasons. She’d have to explain to her parents why she was out of the writing program. She’d have to convince them not to enroll her in another, despite the fact she was a college graduate with her own interests that didn’t revolve around writing fiction. “I don’t even know what I want. Except I do know that I don’t want to be stuck in this place.”
“Yeah, you and me both, Jones.”
She couldn’t help the little laugh that escaped her. “What’s your name, really?”
“Marcus.”
“I knew it started with an M,” she said with satisfaction. “Do you want to know my name?”
“It’s Jessica,” he said simply.
She laughed and shook her head. “You mean you knew all along?”
“Yeah, I just thought it was funny to pretend I didn’t.”
“Jerk.”
“Hey, you really didn’t know my name, and you just called me whatever.” He tightened his arms around her and she let his heat soothe her. She had no idea why this near-stranger’s hug was such a comfort, but she’d take advantage of it while it lasted.
“Is there anything I can do to help you right now?” he asked, sitting back.
She frowned, not liking the new distance or the cool air that took his place against her skin.
“Short of taking you to Blythe,” he added, “which would be a disaster on so many levels, including the fact she might smack the hell out of you with her metal pipe.”
Jessica couldn’t help the smile stretching across her face at the thought of Blythe wielding a pipe.
“I guess what I need,” she said, “is to know what our plan is. How are we getting through that barrier?”
He reached for the tequila. “May I?”
Jessica nodded. He held the bottle in the crook of his right arm and used his left hand to unscrew the top.
His lips tilted in a smile as he held the bottle up. “Cheers.”
After he took a swig, he passed the bottle to Jessica. She took a small sip, then gave it back to Marcus.
“Damn, that shit’s good,” he said, then took another sip. “Then again, all I’ve had the past month is Noah Ephraimson’s moonshine, so anything else would seem good in comparison.”
Jessica took the bottle back and swallowed a bigger gulp.
“So,” Marcus said. “Our plan. It isn’t a great one, but it’s all I’ve got so far. A witch made this barrier wall, so it stands to reason a witch could help us through it.”
“Makes sense,” Jessica said. The alcohol was already starting to affect her, probably because all she’d eaten today was that apple. “I should have a sandwich.”
“Wait here, I’ll bring the stuff in and make you one,” he said.
That was oddly sweet. She got up, too, but only to sit at the tiny table at one end of the trailer.
Marcus came back inside, carrying the bag. She watched as he made her sandwich.
“Thanks,” she said when he set it in front of her on a plate.
He made one for himself, too, and he slid into the space across from her at the table.
“What happened to your hand?” Jessica blurted, then covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry. It isn’t my business. You don’t have to answer me.”
He picked up his sandwich. “I don’t mind. I lost it a couple of months ago. Fight with another shifter.”
Jessica blinked. “That recently? It looks all healed up, like it’s been years.”
“That’s part of being a shifter,” he said. “Fast healing, remember? We fight so much, we’d probably be extinct if it wasn’t for the fast healing.”
“Wow.” She didn’t know what to think about all the shifter talk, but she’d roll with it, for now.
“Anyway, so the witch,” Marcus went on. “I have a friend on the outside and he’s going to get in touch with her for me. She might not care or want to help. But it’s what I can do, for now.”
“And while we wait?” Jessica asked.
“We just wait,” he said. “You need to stay here, stay quiet. I’ll bring you food.”
She didn’t like the sound of this. Stay here? Keep quiet? No, thank you. Just someone telling her she had to stay put made her want to run outside and dance around, shouting at the top of her lungs.
“I’m gonna get bored,” she said, taking a drink from the tequila bottle to wash down the sticky peanut butter in her mouth.
“I’ll keep you company,” Marcus said slowly.
“Such a hardship,” she teased. She was…flirting with him. Why, she had no idea. She’d blame it on the tequila. Then she remembered something he’d said earlier. “Everyone else in here was put here because they couldn’t behave, you said. So, why are you here? Specifically.”
“Specifically, I’d say that’s none of your business.”
She sat back and folded her arms across her chest. So he’d talk about his missing hand, but not his very reason for being stuck in this place? Whatever. “Okay, you don’t want to talk about it. I get it. Then tell me something else.”
“Look, Jennifer. The less you know about me, the better.”
“Look, Manford. The less you tell me, the more I’m gonna pry.”
His face shuttered, all expression leaving it. Then he shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, stood up, and left the trailer.
Jessica watched him go, shocked into silence. The man was moodier than a fourteen-year-old.
8
It wasn’t just Jessica’s question that had sent Marcus running—it was her scent, her smile, her curves. It didn’t matter that she was in the Junkyard against her will, by a total accident. He wanted her.
And fuck if that didn’t make him an even worse person than he’d felt before.
A helpless human woman was trapped in the Junkyard and he was no better than the other pricks in here, half-hard all the time just from the sweet floral scent that rose from her skin like some kind of drug.
This all-encompassing desire was going to be the death of him, he was sure of it.
He took deep breaths of the clean forest air. Pine and fir trees surrounded him, and loamy, dusty scents of the earth rose up to meet his nose. Dappled moonlight stretched through the trees, highlighting pine cones, lichen-covered rocks, and little tufts of brilliant green grasses. There was beauty all around, but none of it compared with the beautiful woman he’d left in the camp trailer.
Soft footsteps met his ears, but he didn’t turn around to see her leaving the trailer. Her presence both soothed his inner wolf and riled it up at the same time.
“I’m not a safe person to be around,” he said into the darkness.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, touching his arm where his wrist ended, where his right hand used to be.
This place on his body had signaled his failure to protect Lena, and his failure as a fighter. And Jessica’s gentle touch there nearly knocked him to his knees.
“You should be afraid,” he said. “I’m no good for you.”
She laughed quietly. “Maybe I’m too drunk to be afraid.”
“Too pretty to be afraid.” What was in that tequila, some kind of truth serum? He should shut up. Now.
“Aw, you think I’m pretty?” she asked.
Unable to resist looking down at her, he turned his head to take her in. Dark curls fell around her shoulders. Her full lips quirked up on one side in a half-smile, and her deep brown eyes arrested him, holding him in place.
He clenched his teeth together. He shouldn’t say anything. He could be quiet as anything if he wanted to. He didn’t need to say a motherfucking word— “You’re prettier than pretty, Jessica.”
She made a little sound in her throat. He couldn’t tell whether it meant doubt, or approval, or what.
He felt her hand on his cheek next, and he closed his eyes. Simply being touched…it had been so long.
Turning his head, he pressed his mouth against her palm. And heaven help him, he couldn’t resist pursing his lips and leaving a gentle kiss there before pulling back.
Even though he was afraid to see how she reacted, he opened his eyes. Her lips were parted slightly, and that freesia scent she carried surrounded him, winding around him like a spell.
“I need to take you in my arms,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I need to kiss you.”