“To my health,” she said, toasting the air. Did a toast still count if you didn’t have anyone to toast with? The Columbia Valley Merlot burst over her tongue. She rubbed her hands together in anticipation of sinking them deep into a bowl of flour and butter. It had been forever since she’d made a pie.
The steaks went on a plate for seasoning. She diced the potatoes, destemmed the kale, and set some freshly made pie dough in the fridge to chill. It felt good to be back in the kitchen with the energy to cook. Wendy, her mother, had been a gourmet cook. Of course, that had likely been her heart’s undoing. Every meal Wendy made included something fried. One summer day, when Mara was sixteen, she and her mother had been hanging out in the kitchen. Wendy was dredging her famous fried chicken in batter and collapsed. By the time Mara got the 911 operator on the phone, Wendy was gone. From that day forward, Mara made it her mission to eat her veggies and workout. She probably needn’t have worried. Wendy had chronically high cholesterol and heart disease throughout her entire family.
Mara had no idea if her family history included any disease, but other than her mysterious illness, she’d never been sick a day in her life. She’d been adopted at six months old. All she knew about her birth family was that she’d been born in California. When Mara had been old enough to wonder, Wendy had told her about her birth mother. The woman had been in the desert with Mara’s older sister, Katerina, late one night. The details were sketchy, but Kylie Olmstead had fallen off a cliff and broken her neck. There’d been a man there who’d apparently tried to save her, but had failed.
She’d met Katerina once—on a holiday visit home from college—and the woman had frightened her. Katerina had talked about that man who had tried to save their mother as if he’d broken her neck with his bare hands. The glee Katerina exuded when she’d told Mara of the man’s death was not normal. She’d even said, “One day, little sister. One day you’ll understand what I did and you’ll love me. I know it.”
After Mara had kicked Katerina out, she’d been sick for a week. She’d wondered if Katerina had killed the man herself, but she didn’t have any proof. She didn’t even know where Katerina lived.
Apples, cinnamon, butter, sugar, and a sprinkle of bourbon formed the pie filling. With a final dusting of sugar and an egg wash, the pie went into the oven and Mara lit a dozen candles around the living room. She needed the soothing, flickering light and warm scent of vanilla to calm her nerves. A vague sense of discomfort twisted in her belly with each match strike. She loved having a fire in the hearth and lighting candles to set the mood in her home, but striking the matches always bothered her.
The wind kicked up and rattled the windows. Seattle was under a storm warning. There was every possibility the power would go out before the end of the night and she was worried about Cade. She flipped on the television to distract herself from thoughts of him cold and alone. If he wasn’t back by the time the pie was done, she’d tack a note on her door and go look for him. She was halfway through an episode of a dark crime drama when her doorbell rang. Oh Goddess, please let it be Cade, she thought.
He stood sheepishly on her porch, his arms tight around his torso. He shivered in the cold night air, his hair tousled and shining in the glow from the streetlight. “Can I come in?”
Mara stood aside and allowed him to enter. He inhaled deeply and an appreciative purr rumbled through his chest. They stared at each other, Cade’s body rigid, a few spatters of rain dotting the flannel shirt. She ached to wrap her arms around him, to soothe and comfort. The oven timer dinged, freeing her from his gaze. She locked the door and retrieved the pie, setting it on the counter to cool. A quick glance at the clock told her it was close to seven. He’d been gone for three hours.
“I thought you’d be halfway to Canada by now,” Mara muttered, brushing past him to shut off the television.
“I made it as far as the lake. Sat there for a while. Thinking. Remembering. Or trying to. Then I wandered a bit. I couldn’t find my way back here in the dark and the wind. Nothing smelled right. I was about to give up and start knocking on doors, beg someone to use their phone when I caught your scent a few blocks away.”
He grabbed her when she tried to scoot past him again to get to the kitchen. His arms banded around her back and he buried his nose in her hair. “I was scared I wouldn’t find you again.”
“Cade,” Mara breathed. He felt so good. Hard and strong and full of life. Like his wolf. But now he smelled like her lavender soap and the musky deodorant she’d bought him. For a moment, she let herself relax into his embrace. When he pulled back enough to meet her eyes, she pressed her lips to his. He tasted slightly salty, with a hint of chocolate and coffee. He groaned and deepened the kiss, pressing her back against the wall of the kitchen. His tongue slipped along hers, tasting, dancing over her teeth. Cade’s hips ground against her, his hands sliding lower to cup her ass. His heart pounded against her breast. Need raced through her, dampening her panties and her palms. The stubble on his upper lip rasped against her skin. He lifted her up so she could settle against his chest and wrap her legs around his hips.
His breath, ghosting over her cheek, carried his unique scent around her. More. The satisfied growl in his throat spurred her to tighten her legs, run her hand up his back and through his hair.
The callouses on his fingers sent a shiver down her spine as he slid his hand up under her sweater. He reached her bra and fumbled with the clasp. His erection pressed against her.
Brrring! The sound of her mobile phone startled them both. Cade set Mara down and moved away so quickly she didn’t realize she was standing until he spoke.
“I can’t. I’m sorry. That was . . . a mistake.”
Brrring! Embarrassed, needing something to distract her from his words, Mara dove for the phone and glanced at the caller ID. Jen. She hit the ignore button.
“A mistake?” She licked her swollen lips. She could still taste him on her. Obviously she’d misread him. He’d wanted her comfort. As a friend. She kicked herself for assuming he wanted more. And for being willing to give it to him. Just because she was in the middle of a lengthy dry spell didn’t mean she should jump into bed with a man she barely knew. “I’m sorry. I thought . . . it seemed like you . . . never mind. Forget . . .”
He ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “No,” he growled. “That’s not it. God, honey. Not even close. You’re gorgeous. And smart and kind. And you have no idea how much I wanted to kiss you. Want to kiss you again. But werewolves—alphas anyway—don’t have casual sex. I won’t use you to scratch an itch. You deserve better.” Cade grimaced and shifted his hips. His erection had to be painful if she could see it through his jeans.
“Oh.” She backed away and turned to the stove. Starting the potatoes and preheating the pan for the steaks helped cool the flush in her cheeks and made her next admission easier. “It’s been a long time. For me. And . . . I feel like I know you. Even if you don’t know yourself. I trust you. Plus you’ve got that whole damaged-male thing working for you.” She waved her hand and behind her, Cade choked back a laugh.
“Damaged male?”
“Oh you know. Women like to fix things. And you need some fixing.”
“You can’t fix what’s wrong with me,” he said quietly. “I’m a danger to you and the longer I stay, the greater the risk.”
Mara couldn’t tell if he was talking about the risk from the fire elemental or from the heat between them. Both, from her standpoint. She looked back at him. His luminous blue eyes were filled with pain. “Enough of this for now,” she said, taking a healthy sip of wine. “Dinner will be ready in twenty minutes.”
Cade hovered in the kitchen doorway with his hands shoved in his pockets. “Can I help?”
“You can set the table,” she said, angling her head towards the cabinet. “Dishes up there, silverware in that first drawer.”
If Cade could kick himself any harder, he’d leave bruises. A mistake? That’s the best you could do? Kissing Mar
a wasn’t a mistake. Well, unless you counted the fact that his cock was currently throbbing so hard he couldn’t think straight. The mistake was stopping. If her phone hadn’t rung, he would have mated with her before he even knew her last name. His wolf wanted her. Two weeks of sleeping close to her at night, breathing in that intoxicating scent, coupled with his own insecurities meant he wanted nothing more than her arms around him, her lips on his, and to lose himself inside of her.
When he’d set out plates, silverware, and napkins, he leaned against the wall and watched her cook. Potatoes sizzled in a pan. The steaks had been seared on the stove and were now in the oven. Garlic, shallots, and butter waited in a bowl. His stomach growled insistently. Cade hoped this constant need to eat would go away soon. How was he going to survive on his own when he had to eat every three hours?
He’d come to a sobering realization sitting on a park bench at the edge of Green Lake. He had to go back to Bellingham. He needed to see where his pack died. Maybe if he saw his shop or the woods where he used to run, he’d remember. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to stay with Mara. The bad woman could find him in Bellingham. But he didn’t know what else to do. How long would his memories take to return otherwise? Another day? A week? A month?
Perhaps it would be better for her to find him again and kill him.
But then he would never see Mara again.
He wouldn’t shift back into his wolf. Never again. As a pure-blooded werewolf, he could control the urge to shift at the full moon. He’d never run as a wolf again. Never howl at the moon, never feel the power of the shift overtake his human form. It’d be denying half of who he was, but he didn’t care. If the bad woman found him again, she wouldn’t be able trap him. She’d have to kill him as a man.
“Cade?” Mara interrupted his thoughts. “Think you can manage a bread knife?” She gestured to a loaf of bread sitting on a cutting board on the counter.
“Maybe? Only one way to find out.” He gripped the knife in his right hand, contemplated the grip, and then switched it to his left. “Huh.”
“What?” she asked.
“I think I’m ambidextrous.” He grinned and made a quick, deft slice through the crusty loaf of bread. He cut five slices and set the cutting board on the table. “What’s next?”
She moved to one side of the stove. “Get the steak out of the oven and set it on the front burner.”
“I think I used to like to cook,” he said when he got a whiff of the rare meat. His mouth watered and he snapped his jaws shut so he wouldn’t drool. Every hour brought new realizations, new memories. Even this simple act of helping Mara in the kitchen opened previously closed doors in his mind. He had a sudden flash of a bubbling dish of lasagna and his stomach growled again. “This is great, boss-man. Where’d you learn to cook like this?” Livie’s voice in his memories brought a smile to his face.
“Then you get to handle dinner tomorrow. Wine glasses are on the top shelf. Pour yourself some and have a seat. Another two minutes and I’ll rest the steak.”
Tomorrow. She wanted him to stay. Expected that he’d still be there. God he wanted to stay. He didn’t want to leave her. Ever.
She spooned butter over the steaks, effectively poaching them. When they rested on a platter, the kale went into a fresh pan to wilt and she gave the potatoes one last stir.
“I worried about you, you know,” she said quietly, keeping her back to him. “When you ran out on me. I wasn’t sure I’d see you again.”
Cade balled his hands into fists. He’d hurt her and that was unacceptable. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking straight. It’s the moon.”
“What about it?” Mara turned and leaned a hip against the counter.
“I can feel it. Wherever it is in its cycle, I know. Right now, it’s a new moon. It messes with me. I don’t know how to explain it.”
Mara spooned the potatoes and kale into bowls and brought them to the table. Next came the steaks and two bowls of melted shallot butter. She took her seat next to him and slid her fingers along his. They were gentle, her touch tender. “Try.”
“Weres get testy this time of the month. We’re weakest on the new moon. I think . . . I think she trapped me during one.” He shuddered at the memory. Twisting his hand, he grasped her delicate fingers. It took him a few breaths to calm his pounding heart. “When I had a pack I used to break up fights. I have this vague memory of Liam pummeling someone. I don’t know who. I closed the shop those days. Being around sharp tools wasn’t a good idea.”
Mara served him a steak the size of half the dinner plate and poured a bowl of shallot butter over the top. The scent had him salivating. It was medium rare and more tender than any meat he’d ever eaten. “Shit, honey. This is amazing.” The fact that he’d started calling her honey didn’t escape him, but she seemed not to notice.
She smiled and blushed. Or perhaps she had. The candlelight turned her face a pale pink. Her green eyes sparkled. She dug into her own steak in silence. It was half the size of his, but at least she was eating.
Feeling a little braver and fueled by the meat, he cleared his throat. “I asked before. But really . . . you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“No. No one wants to go out on a date with a dying woman. I’m not—I wasn’t—a good investment.” She drained half of her wine glass and when she set it down, it nearly toppled over. Her hands shook and she shoved them under the table.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” He kicked himself silently. He didn’t want to cause her pain. Still, a subtle thrill raced down his spine knowing she wasn’t seeing anyone. It meant he had a chance.
“And you? The obituary said you were thirty-one. Are you still? Or thirty-two? You’re not married?” Mara bit her lip and held her breath.
Cade rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know how old I am . . . when my birthday is. Spring? I think? I know I’m not . . . with anyone. Werewolves know. When we . . . mate . . . it’s physical as much as emotional. I’d know. And I would never have kissed you if I’d been mated. I couldn’t have even thought of it.”
“That’s some moral code,” she said.
“Wolves mate for life. It’s who we are. Who I am.” He shook his head and shoved half a slice of bread in his mouth. At least twelve ounces of steak, several pieces of butter-soaked bread, kale, and potatoes sated his stomach. He almost felt full. “What about your family?”
“I was adopted when I was six-months-old. My birth parents are both dead. But I had great adoptive parents until my mom had a heart attack when I was sixteen. After that, my dad shut me out and started drinking. He loved me, but Mom was his entire life. Aunt Lillian—my dad’s sister—she became my mother and father then. Helped me apply to colleges, moved me into my first dorm, nursed me through my first breakup.” She smiled sadly. “Dad died a few years ago. We weren’t close any more. But Aunt Lil moved up here when I got sick. She lives a few miles away.” She sliced off a bite of steak. “She’s awesome, even if she did turn into an overprotective mother hen when I got sick.”
Cade couldn’t blame the woman. He didn’t smell any sickness on Mara now and he’d known her less than two weeks, but he knew that he’d never let anything happen to her if he was ever a regular fixture in her life. She had this way about her. She was nurturing and strong, but there was something in her that begged to be soothed and protected. Maybe it was her illness. Maybe it was her mother dying. Maybe it was her water element. He couldn’t figure it out, but a part of him deep down inside, the part of him that was his wolf, knew that she was his. She always would be.
Over pie, Mara told Cade about her childhood in California and her last serious relationship with an asshole named Roger. When they’d finished dinner and the dishes were done, they moved to the couch. Cade was tired, but he had to tell Mara what he’d decided.
“I need to get to Bellingham. I know it’s asking a lot, but can you get me a bus ticket? And maybe a duffel for the clothes you got me? Hell, even a trash bag would be
fine.”
“You’re leaving.” In the candlelight, her eyes blazed. Her voice took on a hard edge. “You want me to help you go to the one place she’s most likely to find you. Alone. With no resources. No transportation of your own. No defenses other than your wolf.”
He couldn’t tell her that he wouldn’t even have his wolf. He couldn’t shift again. The very thought terrified him. “Please.”
“No. If you want to go to Bellingham, I’ll take you tomorrow.”
“Mara, no. You can’t come with me. It’s too dangerous.” He got up and started to pace the room, but the wine and his still-healing body worked against him. He stumbled, crashing to his knees and narrowly missed slamming his head into her coffee table. He sat back on his ass as Mara dropped down next to him and squeezed his knee.
“Yes. It’s definitely too dangerous,” she snapped. “For you to go alone in the state you’re in. Come on. I made up the guest room for you. We’ll talk about this more in the morning.”
Mara helped him up and kept an arm around his waist. The very scent of her calmed his wolf. The guest room bed sported dark blue sheets and a patchwork quilt in blues and grays. His spare clothing was folded on the desk under the window. Mara tugged back the blankets for him. “There’s a toothbrush and toothpaste in the bathroom. If you get hungry, the cookies and the pie will be on top of the fridge.”
Cade grabbed Mara’s wrist before she could escape the room. “Wait.”
Her skin was soft. Her pulse thrummed under his touch and he brought her hand to his lips. He frowned. “How do you feel?”
“I’m a little tired.”
“You don’t smell as much like rain as you did earlier.”
“Lovely. You really know how to talk to a woman,” she said flatly. “No wonder you’re not . . . mated.” She tried to pull her hand away, but Cade held fast.
A Shift in the Water Page 13