by Liz Craven
Who who was? She shamelessly stopped to eavesdrop. Not hearing a response, she realized Caitlyn had to be on the phone.
After a pause, Caitlyn continued. “Jan is trustworthy. She’ll protect our secret.” Another pause. “Damn it, Damien. She won’t go running to the media. Your people will be safe.”
Secret? Media? His people? Her heart rate increased. What was going on?
“She’s smart. She’ll see how our compound runs and notice everyone kowtows to you. There’s no correlation for your position in the outside world. It’s going to make her suspicious.”
The outside world?
“And Jan’s unwillingness to see you as her dominant is going to be hard on you and thus hard on everyone else.”
Her dominant? Oh, hell no. Had Caitlyn joined a cult? Did Damien have other spirit wives running loose? Images of Amish wives wearing black vinyl prairie dresses danced behind her eyes.
It made a lot of sense. Caitlyn had moved to the small township when she’d married Damien. On the few occasions Jan had visited, the locals had given her a wide berth. The whole town possessed a reputation for being secretive and unfriendly. She’d feared for Caitlyn moving into the insular community.
Not that she’d expected Caitlyn to be surrounded by banjo music. In fact, from what Jan could tell, the entire township—compound, she realized—was inhabited by well educated citizens—members—many of whom worked high paying jobs in the city where she and Caitlyn had been roommates.
How had she missed the fact that her friend had been brainwashed into a cult? Damien had an odd, masculine charisma, but there was no way under the sun he was going to add her to his list of wives. But she wasn’t leaving without evidence—or Caitlyn and Patrice.
Even through the door, she could hear Caitlyn’s sigh. “Okay. I love you, too.”
Shit. With her shuffling walk, she couldn’t move away quickly enough to avoid being caught eavesdropping. She grabbed the knob, pulling it open at the same time Caitlyn pushed, and plastered a bleary look of surprise on her face.
Caitlyn’s green eyes widened. She held the doorknob in one hand and a cell phone in the other. “I was just coming to check on you.”
“Bathroom?” Jan pleaded looking out into the hallway with some not-feigned desperation.
“There’s one attached to your room.” Caitlyn gestured towards one of the interior doors with her phone.
“Thanks.” Jan shuffled to the bathroom as quickly as her protesting body could manage, hoping her friend had bought the act.
It wasn’t until she used the toilet that she realized she wore a man’s button down shirt and panties that weren’t hers. It gave her the distraction she needed to divert Caitlyn’s attention. Opening the door, she began speaking immediately, “I appreciate Damien loaning me a shirt, but surely I could have kept my own underpants.”
Caitlyn smiled without suspicion. “Those are brand new. I bought a six pack of plain undies a few weeks ago for that time of the month.”
“Tell me you didn’t burn my clothes.” Caitlyn had always chided her lack of style and Jan wouldn’t put it past the gorgeous woman to take advantage of the situation to “improve” her wardrobe.
“Your clothes are outside, hanging on the line to dry. And the shirt belongs to Lucas.”
Before, Jan would have attributed the solar drying technique to Caitlyn’s innate hippie tendencies. Now, the cult women image reappeared in her mind. This time, they were hanging laundry in traditional Amish dresses, but with studded leather collars. And—wait … what? “Lucas?”
Caitlyn studied a piece of art on the wall. A painting of a tiger habitat. “He offered it when we carried you upstairs. Before Damien or I thought of it.”
“Did he think of the panties, too?”
Her old friend laughed, understanding the unasked question. “I put you in the shirt and panties. You helped. No one else saw you wearing neon orange panties with that pastel pink bra.”
Jan rolled her eyes. “Don’t start.”
“I most certainly will, but not right now. We need to get some food in you so you can take the antibiotic.”
“The antibiotic …?”
“Damien had it filled, but you need to take it with food.” Caitlyn crossed the room to give her a loose-armed hug. “Why don’t we go downstairs and have a bite to eat?”
Jan hesitated. “Are my clothes dry yet?”
“No, but it’s just you and me. And that shirt hangs low enough to be decent.”
“Where’s Patrice?”
“Rachel’s watching her.”
“Rachel?”
“Damien’s cousin. She can’t have children, so she dotes on Patrice.”
Cousin or sister-wife? “I thought you said it was just you and me.”
“It is.” Caitlyn grinned. “Rachel took Patrice for a walk in her stroller. She’s teaching the baby about the world.”
“Isn’t the baby a little young to learn?”
“Patrice falls asleep by the end of the driveway. Rachel knows it, but she’s still having a ball.” Caitlyn put a gentle arm around Jan’s shoulders and steered her toward the door. “Come on. Let’s get some food into you.”
Jan let Caitlyn herd her to the door, but her mind was on the pills Damien had procured for her. Didn’t cults use drugs to control—or kill—their members? Images of the cartoon Kool-Aid pitcher danced in her mind. Heeeeeey! Koolaid!
Not that she feared they were trying to kill her, but her anthropology background brought the concept of indoctrination screaming to the forefront of her thoughts. How on earth was she going to avoid taking those pills?
Chapter Four
Lucas circled the house. The anxiety that had kept him company as he’d paced the floor during the night had fled when he saw her sitting next to the Tigrine on the porch. Though worry still weighted his shoulders, his heart lightened at the sight of the small, battered woman.
She wore his gray-striped shirt—the collar peaked out under the heavy robe—and he was fiercely glad he’d stopped to change before answering the Alpha’s call. It had provided him a small measure of comfort to know she’d slept wrapped in his scent. He’d wanted to bring her to his home—their home—but both Damien and Caitlyn had vetoed that. Not that Pride structure allowed for an override vote.
Caitlyn had been most fierce in her refusal, stressing his mate’s humanity. He knew humans didn’t have the gift of recognizing their mate. Hell, he’d lived as a human in med and vet school, far away from the comforts of the Pride.
Still, not taking his mate home had been the hardest thing he’d ever done. Caitlyn had stressed the importance of courting in his mate’s culture. Leave it to humans to make everything complicated.
He wanted to vault the rail, but opted to not startle Jan. She smelled of fear, and the desire to soothe her scorched his heart. Taking the steps was a small enough concession.
“Good afternoon,” he called.
Despite his cheerful tone, Jan jumped. Her coffee mug went flying and hot liquid splattered across the wooden planks.
“Jan? Are you okay?” Caitlyn grabbed some napkins from the tray on the table between them.
Lucas sped forward, landing on his knees before her. “Are you burned?”
“I’m fine. Just clumsy.” The smile she offered was watery at best.
Overprotective instincts kicked into high gear, even as he intellectually recognized he was being ridiculous. He couldn’t stand the idea of her suffering another instant of pain. “Did you burn yourself?”
“No, but I made a mess.” She took the napkins and knelt to mop up the spill.
He stopped her by placing a gentle hand on hers. It worked better than he anticipated. Electricity arced between them, and he knew she felt it when she jerked away so fast she nearly toppled over backwards.
Catlike reflexes allowed him to catch her, and he savored the feel of her against his palms. “Easy, love.”
“Let go,” she breathed.
/> She panted softly in pain and he pulled her to her feet and deposited her back into the rocker with care. She gripped the arms of the chair and stared at him, eyes glassy with shock. He took two careful steps back, letting her see his intention to give her space.
Kneeling to mop the spill, he asked, “How are you feeling this morning?”
“She’s sore,” Caitlyn offered, when Jan remained silent.
“That’s to be expected. Has she taken her meds today?”
“She’s only been up an hour and has just finished eating. They say ‘take on a full stomach’.”
“I’m fine. I don’t need any drugs.”
“I won’t allow you to suffer needlessly.” He couldn’t keep the order from his voice. The Tigre need to protect a mate roared through him.
She stuck her well-packed nose into the air. “I’m not suffering. I’m just sore. Not that it’s any of your business.”
Caitlyn cut in before his tiger could react to her rejection. “Lucas undertook your care last night. That makes him your doctor. You are being insulting and ungrateful.”
To his surprise, Jan looked a little sheepish. “I apologize. I appreciate your assistance, but I’m not taking the drugs.”
Realizing he was coming on too strong, he forced down the tiger’s protest that she not suffer. “You have to take the antibiotic, at least.”
Jan huffed an exasperated breath, and Caitlyn passed her one of the two pill bottles and a small glass of juice. Lucas deposited the wet napkins on the tray, watching her out of the corner of his eye.
She squinted at the time released capsule, turning it slowly in her hand. Then, she tugged gently at each end of it.
“You swallow it whole,” he told her.
She gave him a withering glance. “I’m aware of that.”
He raised a brow and leaned back against the rail. To his amazement, she palmed the antibiotic and pretended to swallow it. Even without Tigre senses, he’d have been able to see her do it. She gave a fake stretch as she drank the juice.
He waited for her to finish and set the glass down before leaning over to pluck the pill out of the potted plant next to her chair. Not bothering to knock the dirt off, he held it out to her. “Try again.”
Caitlyn shot to her feet and stood with hands on hips. “Oh my God. What are you thinking? This is taking stubbornness to a whole new level—even for you. For crying out loud, Janine Masters!”
Jan took the pill and wiped it clean. Her expression went beyond resigned. She looked … cornered. His tiger began pacing, and it took all he had not to carry her off and lock her away someplace where nothing could hurt her. Where nothing could put that expression on her face.
Caitlyn poured another glass of juice and slammed it down beside her friend hard enough for the liquid to slosh over the sides. The Tigrine crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes, apparently unmoved by the trapped body language Jan displayed.
“Don’t call me Janine,” his mate muttered before swallowing the drug.
Her weak defiance calmed his tiger, though only slightly. It pleased him to see her spirit.
“Are you both happy now?” Bitterness tinged her words, and the scent of fear grew heavier.
“We are.” Caitlyn ignored the bitterness. “Let’s go inside and warm up. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why you insisted on eating out here.”
He’d been wondering why the women were outdoors. It was chilly, even in the early afternoon sun, and neither of them had Tigre metabolisms to keep them warm.
Lucas offered Jan his hand, and gritted his teeth at the hesitance in her acceptance of his help. Her hand felt icy against his. She took two steps and one of the wool socks she wore snagged on a splinter. She stumbled into him, crying out when he caught her around the torso. He gentled his touch and dropped his arm around her waist, letting her lean against him without putting pressure on her ribs.
He was going to park her someplace warm and if he had to, he’d sit on her.
Chapter Five
Lucas watched Caitlyn rinse the plates and load the dishwasher. His mate had fallen asleep within minutes of settling on the oversized couch in the family room. He’d tucked two blankets around her and sat down in a chair to watch her sleep, when the Tigrine had ordered him to escort her to the kitchen.
She shut the dishwasher and turned to rest a hip against the counter. “You can’t treat her like Tigre, Lucas. I know it goes against your instincts, but if you hover over her constantly, you’re going to come across as a stalker and scare the shit out of her.”
“She’s injured. She could need me.” His concerns were overblown, but logic held no sway over his beast.
“She’s fine. She’s safe and in your Alpha’s care.”
He heard the warning in Caitlyn’s voice and ran a hand through his hair. “My tiger can’t see past the need to protect her. To know she’s hurting, that someone’s after her … it’s killing me.”
“I love her, too. I promise we won’t let anything happen to her.”
“Have you heard from Damien?” He didn’t try to hide the plea in his voice.
Damien had gone to consult an elder, a matriarch. A mystical Tigre who lived in solitude on the far side of the state. To their knowledge, no Tigre had ever claimed a human as a mate before. They’d taken human women to wife throughout time, but never as a mate. It was uncharted territory, and no one knew the ramifications.
In fact, Caitlyn was the first known child ever born of a human and shifter. Lucas sent a silent prayer of thanks to the gods for that. Had Damien’s mate been pure Tigre, he doubted his Alpha would have believed him when he claimed the human woman was his mate.
“He’ll see the matriarch tomorrow.” Sympathy lit the Tigrine’s eyes. “There’s no guarantee she’ll be able to tell us anything.”
Lucas glared back towards the room where Jan slept. “I don’t want to leave her. I’m not sure I can leave her right now.”
She crossed the room to hug him. “I know it’s unlikely that Jan’ll suffer the mating fever, but we don’t know what’s going to happen. If the matriarch can’t tell us for certain, are you willing to risk sending her into the mating heat? You and I both know that sex is the only thing that will douse the fever, and she’s in no condition for that.”
He hugged her back. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
Caitlyn stepped back, but kept a hand on his shoulder, offering the comfort of touch that all Tigre needed. “You’ll go to that conference you’re scheduled to attend, and then meet with other Tigre doctors like you planned. It will give her a chance to heal. Selene can remove the packing.”
It made sense. Perfect, logical sense. If Jan reacted like a Tigre female, once the nasal packing came out, his scent, specifically his pheromones, would propel her into a mating fever that only his sexual claiming of her could cure. Still, his entire being rebelled at leaving his mate unclaimed and without his protection. It didn’t help that he doubted a human female’s ability to experience fever or mating.
He took a shuddering breath. “Fine, but I want her equipped with LoJack.”
———
Two days later, a kind nurse came to the house to remove the packing. A singularly painful and humiliating procedure that Jan prayed she would never have to endure again.
Not only did she have to deal with the embarrassment of having a stranger pull things out of her nose, she had to deal with the bizarre wish that it had been Doctor Hunky rather than the NICU nurse who’d done it. After all, what self-respecting woman didn’t dream of having a handsome man yank things from her nostrils?
Some therapist would be able to buy a boat after treating her.
Worse. She was becoming paranoid. For the life of her, Jan couldn’t shake the fear that Caitlyn had joined a cult. Not that there was any evidence. The town seemed full of men, but had only a small number of women, and even fewer children. While not an expert on cults, she did remember that cult leaders sought to
impregnate multiple women. Moreover, there was no hint of isolationism. Yes, the townsfolk kept to themselves, but they didn’t eschew the outside world.
That therapist would be able to buy a vacation home rather than a measly boat.
After all, Damien had left the morning after her arrival. If he’d been running a cult, wouldn’t he have stuck around to woo her with his magnetic charm?
The thought had her snorting a laugh. The odds of Damien having a magnetic charm equated to the likelihood of Disney producing a live action film about a dog that didn’t make her cry.
Caitlyn set a steaming mug of chocolate before her with a smile. “What’s the grin for? Thinking about a certain handsome, blue-eyed doctor?”
Her friend had done nothing but talk up Dr. Hunky. Caitlyn the Matchmaker. Jan just smiled and took a sip of the drink. She held no illusions about her chances with the gorgeous man. Jesus. The man should have been a movie star or supermodel. At the very least, he should have been a personal trainer. And no one that pretty should be that smart. It just wasn’t fair.
“You know he’s too handsome—”
“I will not listen to this again. Stop putting yourself down.” Fury darkened the beauty’s eyes.
The fierce loyalty Caitlyn showed warmed her more than the hot chocolate. She knew she was beautiful in her friend’s eyes, and that Caitlyn would never understand how a man would see someone who needed to lose thirty-five pounds. If only men could see her through Caitlyn’s eyes.
She opted to change the subject rather than try to explain women and weight to her beautiful friend with the perfect metabolism. “I called in sick again today, but I should head home. I have to go in tomorrow.”
“I hated it when you moved so far away.”
Jan shrugged. “It’s where the job was.”
“Don’t you miss working in the field? Is the money worth giving that up?” The sincere compassion and love in Caitlyn’s eyes took the sting from her query.
No, it’s not. She’d loved working as an archaeologist. A true archaeologist, not Indiana Jones. To this day, she didn’t understand how anyone could watch Raider’s and be more interested in the tiny statue than the temple. Did they not see the awesome, rolling ball booby trap? Wasn’t that far more cool than a stinking idol and a bag of sand?