Untamed

by Sara Humphreys

  “That letter is from someone on the Council,” he said bluntly. “And the energy signature on it…”

  Layla rubbed the envelope between her fingers. Her eyes shifted, and her nostrils flared as she made the connection. “It’s the same person who was here the night Rosie was attacked.”

  Layla’s jaw fell open, and her large eyes flicked back to the envelope. “Okay, if this is from the person who was here, then they hurt Rosie. So why the hell would I want anything from them?” she said furiously.

  “Because there was more than one person here that night.”

  “What?” Her eyes burned brightly.

  “When I was surveying the property earlier, I discovered two energy signatures tangled together. One stronger than the other, so much so that it masked the weaker one.” He glanced at the envelope. “Whoever left this note for you was here that night, and if they used that seal, then they’re on the Council. That’s the only thing we know for sure.”

  “I think I’ll sit down now.” She backed up and sank into their oversized chair without taking her eyes off the seal. “I’m freaked out.” She looked at William through confused eyes. “This should freak me out, right? I’m not overreacting.”

  “No.” He shook his head and kept his sights on her. “You are not overreacting at all. That seal is from a ring that is worn only by our Council members. Obviously, your existence has not been kept a secret as we thought.”

  Her energy waves whipped through the room, reflecting the same apprehension that he was feeling. She stared at the envelope and let out a slow breath. William couldn’t stand the space between them, and the urge to comfort her had become too strong to ignore. He took a seat on the arm of the large chair next to Layla and rubbed her back reassuringly.

  “Here goes nothing,” she murmured.

  Layla straightened in her seat and gathered her resolve as she peeled open the envelope and broke the seal with a thin snapping sound. She pulled the folded card out and opened it with care as William leaned over her shoulder and read the flowery script along with her.

  Dear Layla,

  I am sorry that I must write this letter with such secrecy, but it remains uncertain who can be trusted. I know you must feel abandoned, but I wanted you to know that I have been watching you grow and thrive over the years. It’s clear that we chose the perfect safe house for you to grow up in, and someday, I hope we can thank Rosie for all the things that she has done for you—for all of us. Before his mating with your mother, your father was a high-ranking member of our clan, and his efforts to keep you safe cost him his life.

  I do not tell you this to punish you or to hurt you, but to be sure that you understand the danger that you are in. I want nothing more than to fulfill my brother’s wishes and bring you into the fold of our clan, but I fear it isn’t safe—at least not until you bond with your mate. I know that William has found you and that you are reluctant to give in to what the universe intends, but I beg you to keep your mind and heart open. The Purists have become increasingly aggressive, and it is imperative that you have all of your wits about you.

  Embrace Your Fate.

  —xo Bianca

  They both sat for a few minutes reading and rereading the note, but it wasn’t long before William broke the silence.

  “Bianca Wayland,” he said evenly. “She sits on the Council as the female representative for the Cheetah Clan. I can’t believe Bianca would hurt Rosie after all the lengths she went to keeping you hidden safely here,” he said tightly as apprehension crept up his back. “There was someone else here besides her that night, and that has to be the person who attacked Rosie. Bianca would never hurt the woman who protected you.”

  “Bullshit,” Layla shouted. She crumpled the note in her hands as her energy waves increased in tempo and temperature, and her body shook with fury. She whipped her head up, and her glowing, gold and green eyes zeroed in on William. “This is such bullshit!”

  William watched with genuine confusion as she stood, threw the note across the room, and tore her fingers through her wild red curls. She paced back and forth in front of the fireplace with her hands curled into tight fists, and the air in the room thickened in response to her emotions.

  William stood slowly and kept his gaze fixed on Layla, waiting for what she would do next. Had they read the same note? He was saddened by it, and perhaps expected her to cry, as much as he dreaded the idea of it, but anger? Now that was unexpected. Would he ever figure this woman out?

  “Layla,” he said gently. “I understand that you’re upset, but—”

  “So this chick is my aunt, I guess,” she spat. “It looks like she was here but probably didn’t hurt Rosie. However, there’s still someone out there who did. By the way, if she was here, why didn’t she help Rosie?”

  “I don’t know.” William’s jaw clenched. “We’ll find out who else was here, but at least you have some kind of answers from this letter.”

  “Are you kidding me? All I have are more questions.” She put her hands on her hips and looked at him as if he’d just sprouted an extra head. “How would you like to be tricked and cheated out of your choices? These people—your people.” She pointed at him accusingly, and her eyes flashed with anger as she stalked toward him. “They moved me around like a pawn on a chessboard and played with my life, as if it didn’t make a damn bit of difference, as if I had no feelings about anything.

  “She tells me my father is dead in a freaking letter? She lets me go on all these years thinking that he abandoned me and that I wasn’t wanted.” Her voice cracked with emotion. “Do you have any idea how that feels, to think that I was tossed away like defective trash?”

  Her body shook with fury, and her energy waves pummeled him harshly, causing the glasses to skitter nervously along the weathered surface of the coffee table. The room pulsed with years of pent-up anger and frustration; the storm of her emotions filled the house and tore at his heart.

  “No one asked me what I wanted,” she shouted with tear-filled eyes. “No one thought that it would be hell on earth to grow up a freak, like some half-breed mess who doesn’t belong in either world. I’m not exactly human, but I’m definitely not Amoveo,” she let out a harsh laugh, and her jaw clenched with determination. “I-I can’t even shift.”

  William’s face softened, and his heart broke at the wounded tone of her voice as she admitted what she’d been trying so desperately to hide. She stood her ground, eyes blazing, daring him to say something and looking for a fight.

  However, William wasn’t taking the bait.

  “I never could, and maybe I never will. Is that what you want?” Her shaky voice dipped to just above a whisper. “To be tied down to some weakling for eternity?”

  The suffering written across her face grabbed him by the throat. How could she think that? How could he make her understand that she was everything?

  “Layla,” he whispered. William reached out to take her in his arms, but she shoved him away and pushed past him toward the front door. “Please wait.”

  “Don’t.” She whipped around to face him and held her hand out to stop him from coming closer. Her eyes glowed brightly in the dimly lit hallway and reflected the swirling turmoil within. “Rosie is hurt because of me, because whoever hurt her was probably here looking for me.” She swiped at her eyes. “I’m nothing more than a mistake that needs to be corrected.”

  As she ran out the front door and into the pitch black night, William reached out and whispered into her mind.

  You are not a mistake. You are the answer.

  ***

  Tears blurred her vision as she bolted blindly out the door into the chilly damp night and ran as fast as she could toward the woods. Her bare feet pounded through the wet grass up the hill, but she hardly felt it. The only thing she could feel was the all-consuming rage of being what she was a
nd having no control. She barely noticed the biting cold of the wind whipping over her tear-stained face, and only one word thundered through her mind as she bolted through the moonlit woods.

  Why?

  Her legs pumped faster as questions raced through her mind. Why did they hurt Rosie? Why did people she never met want to kill her simply because of what she was? Why didn’t they tell her sooner that her father didn’t abandon her? Why couldn’t she shift like Raife and Tati? Why couldn’t she give William her heart? Why was she such a freaking mess?

  She raced along the leaf-strewn path as twigs and pine needles spit up from her heels. The trees went by in a distorted blur, and the image of her cheetah filled her mind. She saw everything that she was able to become in the dream realm—the golden coat spotted with black, sharp claws, and a mouth full of razor-sharp teeth that could tear through tender flesh like butter.

  Her cheetah likeness blazed brightly and held firm in her mind’s eye as she sprinted through the darkness at inhuman speed. Fury flooded her mind and flashed fiercely through her small human body as static electricity rippled over her skin with dazzling, vivid intensity, and white lights danced behind her eyes.

  Everything shimmered, and for the first time in her life, the world came into perfect focus as her body undulated, swelled, and stretched into the unrestrained form of her clan.

  In one giant leap—she was free.

  An unfamiliar strength coursed through her veins as she ran on four legs instead of two. Her claws dug deliciously into the soft earth, giving her the traction she needed to shoot like a bullet through the dark forest. Her furred body pulsated brilliantly with power, and her muscles worked, stretched, and strained in the most refreshing way.

  She’d never felt more alive or more in control of her body, her life, or her mind. For the first time, everything made sense. She no longer felt out of step or behind the curve—this body, this form… it was always there, lurking, and waiting to be discovered.

  Layla snarled and bolted around the bend of the familiar path, and within seconds the old cottage from her photograph came into view. Like her sprinting cheetah counterparts in nature, her burst of speed was not for distance.

  Heart hammering her in her chest, she slowed to a trot and padded over to the entrance of the rundown cottage, which had been her playhouse as a child. When the kids teased her at school for her freckles and red hair, or when Raife and Tati would shift and run in the forest together, this is where she would come to lick her proverbial wounds.

  She sensed William’s arrival before she saw him. His energy signature, tied firmly to hers, signaled to Layla as he flew closer. Breathing heavily, her long tail switching slowly behind her, Layla arched her neck and looked to the sky in search of William. She was surprisingly eager to have him see her in her clan form, and she wasn’t sure if her heart was racing from apprehension or exhaustion. Perhaps it was a bit of both.

  When she saw his graceful form silhouetted against the full moon as he circled above, the world around her fell away. He shrieked loudly, announcing his presence to the rest of the night creatures—or warning them—she wasn’t sure which. Layla sat on her haunches and watched as he soared down to her, his wings pumped with unmistakable strength as his moon-glow eyes shone brilliantly in the night. His deep baritone voice floated in her mind. Verto.

  Layla watched with genuine awe as he shimmered, shifted in midair, and implemented a sure-footed landing on two feet directly in front of her. Radiating raw power, he towered over her in his human form. The stern look carved into his face and the thick turmoil of his energy waves left little to the imagination.

  “Why would you run out here alone?”

  I can take care of myself. Layla stood and circled slowly around William, while the two inspected one another. I did that for a long time before you showed up.

  He made a small sound of understanding but clearly not in agreement. “Looks like you can shift after all.” He kept his sharp gaze fixed on her as she stalked around him. “You didn’t have to use the ancient language like most of our people do. Samantha and Kerry can shift without it as well, so it seems hybrids have some unique advantages over pure-blooded Amoveo.”

  A growl rumbled low in the back of her throat. That must really chap some pure-blooded Amoveo ass. Layla turned her back on William and entered the open doorway of the old cottage with her lover close behind. I have to admit this was definitely worth the wait. My whole body is buzzing, and I feel like I could kick some major butt. She threw a glance over one shoulder and snarled. So you better watch out, or I just might start with you. Her teasing voice touched his mind with an unsettling familiarity.

  The interior of the tiny, one-room cottage was practically empty. The wood floors had all but rotted away with weeds and dirt poking through the broken planks. The fireplace overflowed with a mass of leaves and a nest from some kind of animal. The yellow floral curtains Layla had put in when a young girl were tattered and faded from years of exposure. Even the table and chairs she used to inspect her photographs was faded and warped, but the old place still felt like a second home.

  Familiar white moonlight filtered through the cracks in the roof, giving the entire place an ethereal glow. The funny hint of energy she always sensed was there, embedded in the property… or maybe it was only in her memory. Whatever it was, it made her feel safe.

  Layla took a deep breath, closed her glowing eyes, visualized her human form, and within seconds, she stood on two feet instead of four.

  Light-headed, but no longer fur-covered, Layla smiled at her newly mastered ability and stretched her arms over her head. Her muscles felt more alive and energized than ever before.

  “I could definitely get used to this,” she said as she reached over and touched her fingers to the floor. Bent over, back to the doorway, Layla loosened the muscles in her legs.

  “Me too,” William said with his eyes fixed firmly on her ass.

  Her heart skipped a beat at the sight of William standing there watching her. He filled the doorway of the cottage the same way he filled every other space he entered—completely. His sharp, glowing eyes tracked every move she made, but he said nothing as she straightened and walked around the cottage, absently touching the fluttering curtains in the open window. Standing on the opposite side of the room, he gave her what she knew was a false sense of security.

  She’d allowed him into her body, and now into her hideaway.

  What was next… her heart?

  Layla turned her back on William and looked out the open window at the moon-dappled forest. All the memories of her childhood and feelings of inadequacy came flooding back in vivid color, and she let out a gentle laugh. No more. She’d shifted, after all these years… she’d done it… and she knew that William was partially responsible.

  Layla nibbled on her lip and folded her arms over her chest, wishing this big sweatshirt really could swallow her up. “I used to come out here all the time as a kid. Whenever I felt like a freak, when Sylvia and her flunkies gave me grief, or when I got lonely, I would come to this place, and somehow, everything felt okay,” she said without turning around.

  Layla swallowed the lump forming in her throat and kept her gaze fixed on the woods. She didn’t have the nerve to look at William. At every turn he’d been there to help, and she’d done nothing but run or hide. Coward.

  “You knew, didn’t you?” she asked quietly. “You knew I’d never shifted before.”

  “Yes.” Layla glanced over her shoulder to find he’d stepped into the cabin and was looking around the small space. “I suspected it when we were in the dream realm, but the other night at the bar”—he gazed at her—“when you started to shift involuntarily, that was when I knew.”

  Layla made a small sound of understanding and looked at the curtain she was worrying between her fingers. “It didn’t bother you?” She leane
d against the rotting window sill and looked him in the face again. “It didn’t upset you to know that I was so… inept?”

  “You are not inept,” he said as he slowly closed the distance between them. “You shifted tonight, as I knew you eventually would, and I agree with you.” He smiled and took her face in his hands. “It was definitely worth the wait, Firefly.”

  Layla’s brow wrinkled with confusion as she tried to ignore the pull of desire that thrummed strong and steady between them—so much for thinking that a quick tumble would satisfy the crazy attraction she felt. She couldn’t have been more wrong, because it had only grown in its intensity.

  When he brushed his thumb along her cheek, she heard him whisper that odd nickname along the edges of her mind, Firefly. A delicious tingling fluttered over her breasts, and heat flared between her legs.

  “Why do you call me that?” she asked in that shamefully lusty voice that didn’t sound like her. She covered his hand with hers and searched his eyes for answers. “Why do you call me Firefly?”

  Every cell in Layla’s body flamed to life, and her heart hammered in her chest in perfect time with the pounding pulse of their mingled energy signatures. William loomed over her, his long blond hair fell across his forehead, and she couldn’t help but brush it back and tangle one hand in those soft locks.

  His lips curved into a smile as he strummed featherlight strokes along her cheek. “You are my firefly, Layla,” he whispered without taking his eyes off hers. “You are the beautiful and elusive pinpoint of radiance that lit up the darkness and called me home.”

  Her throat clogged with emotion, and the cabin swirled with the intense pulse of their combined energies, sending visible ripples like a heat wave through the confined space.

  “I love you, Layla.” His mouth set in a firm line, and his jaw clenched. “Fate or imprinting, or whatever the hell my people want to call it—none of that can make me love you.” His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. “I love you, Layla. I love your stubborn streak, the way you love Rosie, Raife, and Tati. I admire your desire for independence, and Lord knows, I love your moxie.” He bent down, brushed his lips against hers, and murmured, “Fate didn’t make me love you… you did.”