"No! Of course not," her mom shouted. Kristin let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
"Then what is it?"
Even after all these years, Kristin still knew virtually nothing about the falling out their families had had. All she knew was that it had acted as the kick off to some sort of mid-life crisis for her parents. Derrick's family had moved to New York. Hers had stayed in L.A., but both her parents had quit their jobs as lawyers to become private detectives and suddenly decided they were psychic. They'd moved Kristin from their posh Beverly Hills home to an old, broken down house in the Mid-Wilshire district she'd later found out was supposed to be haunted. Suddenly, overnight it seemed, everything in their lives revolved around the supernatural. Her parents became obsessed with it.
Instead of their family picture over the fireplace, her parents had a portrait of Hans Holzer. Books on werewolves and ghosts lined every wall in their home. When Kristin turned 18 and moved into her dorm, her parents had insisted—much to her embarrassment and her roommate's amusement—on conducting a sage cleansing ritual before they'd allow her to move in. Her mom had attributed this sudden change to a documentary she and her father had watched on television late one night, but Kristin had always thought that sounded like a lame excuse.
"Kristin, honey." Her mom paused and was silent for so long Kristin thought she'd hung up. "Just be careful."
"Careful about wh—"
But Kristin's mom was already gone.
***
The team huddled together in the locker room. Coach had just finished his pep talk and it was actually one of the best Derrick had ever heard. The team was jazzed, ready to kick some ass against the Cowboys.
He tried not to notice Kristin in the corner, getting her bag of medical whatnot together for the impending injuries that were sure to occur. There was always something during a game like this. It had been a week since he and Kristin had joined the team, and he'd avoided her like the plague. Derrick had made the mistake of mentioning Kristin's sudden return into his life in an email to his parents, and they'd sent him back a frenzied reply telling him to stay away from her.
He knew Kristin's family had freaked out all those years ago when his parents had revealed to them that they were shifters, but that didn't explain the almost desperate plea from his mother and father not to have anything to do with her. They made it sound as if his life depended upon his staying away from her. It was ridiculous and exaggerated, of course, but he'd vowed to keep his distance anyway. He didn't want anything to distract him from beating Wolfe's record. Besides, if he needed female companionship for a night or two, he could take his pick. Something told him that with Kristin there'd be no one-nighters. No, she would be all or nothing. He didn't have time for all right now.
He looked up to realize the team was heading out to the field and hurried to catch up. The Cowboys were tough, but the Peregrines were better. At least, now that Derrick was on the team they were. And they were in Washington tonight—even better.
The game started well enough for them. The first quarter flew by. Half time hit, and some band Derrick had never heard of played while the Cowboy's cheerleaders did their thing. That was one thing he liked about Dallas—they sure had some first class girls on the team. He wondered what the chances were that one of them wanted to hook up with the enemy. He thought the chances might be pretty high.
It was third quarter where things went wrong. Tate tossed the ball to him and he caught it no problem, but some jerk on the Cowboys nailed him from behind before he'd even gotten his chance to run with the ball. He felt his knee crack and fell to the ground. The team signaled to Coach, and Kristin was hunched over him before he was even aware she'd stepped onto the field.
They took him off in a stretcher. He felt like a jerk. He wanted to get back out there. He was close to beating Wolfe's record, but that was never gonna happen if he was stuck in a locker room with a busted knee. Panther shifters could heal faster than most, he just needed a few minutes alone. He couldn't heal a broken knee in front of a crowded stadium.
"Just set him there," Kristin told the medical team that had helped carry him off the field. They put him on an exam table and Kristin started poking his knee. "Shit," she said. "It's broken."
"No," Derrick said, smiling, trying to play it off like it was nothing. "It's fine. I just need a minute. Got the wind knocked out of me, that's all."
Kristen looked at him with sympathetic eyes. Deep brown sympathetic eyes that made his heart race. "Derrick, I'm sorry, but your knee is broken."
He shook his head and tried to pull his leg away from her. "Can you just get some ice?" he asked her.
She was pulling something from her medical bag. "What is that?" he asked.
"It's for the pain."
She wanted to shoot him up with some kinda pain killer? That would only slow the healing process. He might end up missing the rest of the game if she stuck him with that now.
"Kristin, don't. I'm fine, really."
"Derek, you're not fine. With surgery and treatment, you might be able to play next season."
Next season? Was she crazy? Derek asked himself.
Kristin watched him try to swing his leg over the edge of the table and stand up. Was he crazy? Clearly he was in denial. It happened all the time with sports players. The thing was, he seemed like he was barely in pain. His knee was broken in at least two places. He should have been in agony.
"Could you get me some water?" he asked, after she pushed him back on the table. "I don't feel very well."
"Of course." She ran to get him some water and Derrick closed his eyes, concentrating. He felt the bones in his knee and willed them to shift back to the right place. He felt the pieces move together and begin to mold themselves. When Kristin came back with the water, he was standing.
"See?" he said. "The wind got knocked out of me. That's all." He smiled at her, trying to melt her with his charm.
Kristin dropped the water and ran to him, running her hand over his leg. Her touch sent shivers of electricity up his body. She pulled her hand away, in shock.
"Derrick," she said. "That's not possible. It was broken. I'm sure of it."
He looked at her and shrugged. "I better get back out there." It was all he could think to say. He ran onto the field, leaving Kristin with her mouth hanging open.
Chapter 4
Kristin was waiting for Derrick when he got out of the showers. They'd won against the Cowboys and the team was already celebrating. Derrick walked past her like she wasn't there. Why did he insist on treating her like an alien? She remembered the way her hand used to feel when he held it in his. How hot his skin used to be...
"Way to go tonight, Doc," Coach said coming up to her and slapping her on the back. "You're some kind of miracle worker. I coulda sworn Wellborn was out for the season when they brought him back here. You're a goddamn genius." He slapped her back again and walked off.
"Derrick," she said when he walked past her again. She grabbed his arm to stop him. "We need to talk."
Derrick looked where her hand was clutching his arm. A steady stream of heat radiated from the spot. He looked at Kristin. Her eyes were round and full, almost as full as her breasts, and he saw the spark in them when he put his hand over hers and lifted her fingers off him, one by one. He took a deep breath. He had to calm this rush of energy that was coursing through his veins.
Maybe it's better to just tell her. She already knows something's up...
"Can you meet me at Palidio's in an hour?" he asked. Palidio's was the preferred pub for his new team. She nodded, reminding herself to breathe. When he'd touched her hand, her heart had stopped. Her brain couldn't think straight around him. If he'd asked her to be the stickup man in a bank heist he'd planned, she would've said yes. She would've done anything just to get him to touch her again.
"One hour. See you there," he said, then hurried out before she could ask any more questions.
***
Palid
io's was crowded. The whole team was there. Kristin and Derrick sat in a back booth, as far from the team as they could get, which wasn't very far. Tate and the others saw them cozying up together and decided to leave them alone for now.
"So?" Kristin said, waiting. She sipped at a scotch and soda, watching Derrick closely. His eyes were bright blue, almost too blue for the dim lighting of Palidio's. How could they shine in shadows?
Derrick wasn't comfortable being so close to Kristin. She smelled like vanilla and every time he got near her, the hair on his arms stood up like soldiers at attention. He wasn't sure he could continue to keep his distance, and that worried him. He'd nearly dropped the ball earlier because he'd caught her scent on the wind when he turned for the catch. It could've cost them the game. Maybe once he told her the truth, she'd want nothing to do with him, like her parents. It was the best chance he had to get rid of her. Derrick took a deep breath. "You remember the last time we saw each other?"
She nodded. "Of course."
"I was holding your hand at Venice Beach, and you kept telling me how hot it was. You thought I had a fever, that I was sick. Then you said my eyes looked funny and you were afraid I was about to pass out."
"That's a pretty detailed account for someone who couldn't remember my name a few days ago," she said, narrowing her eyes.
He looked down at his own drink, his cheeks going pink. Kristin thought he was adorable when he was embarrassed. "I lied, okay?" he said. “Truth is I remember everything about you. Everything about you and me.”
"Why lie?"
He shrugged. "I was just—I couldn't believe it was you. I didn't know what to do. I was afraid... you'd distract me."
That wasn't the answer she was expecting. "Distract you from what?"
"The game," he said, as if that should have been obvious. "From beating Randy Wolfe's record. I was afraid you might jinx me."
Things were starting to make sense now. All sports guys were superstitious. She'd learned that long ago. "So you ignored me instead?"
He nodded. This wasn't going well. The longer they talked, the less Derrick wanted her to leave. What if he did scare her away? What if, after all these years, he lost the only chance he'd have to be with her again? Was sacrificing Kristin more important that beating Wolfe's record? Two hours ago, he'd been certain it was. Now, as he stared into the butterscotch flecks of her eyes and admired the fullness of her waist as she slid into the booth, he wasn't so sure. As they'd been talking, their fingers had moved closer and closer together. They were almost touching now. A buzz began to grow between them, so strong Derrick thought he could almost see tendrils of energy shoot from her fingertips to his.
"So, what does this have to do with your knee?" she asked, trying not to get distracted by the smell of Derrick's aftershave—like a woodsy forest—or the day’s growth of beard that gave him a rough, sexy look.
Derrick took a deep breath and looked around the pub. "The last time you saw me... I was… going through a change."
She lifted an eyebrow. "What sort of change?"
He evaded the question. "My parents told yours what was going on with me. They figured they were obligated to what with you and I being so close. They thought your folks would understand," he shook his head. "They didn't."
"What sort of change?" she asked again, more forcefully.
She looked at him across the table and his eyes turned from the bright blue she'd been mesmerized by to a golden orange, to the color of a tree top, back to blue. The fingernails on his right hand, which were pressed against the table, extended towards her then shrunk back down. Something clicked. She hadn't grown up surrounded by books on the paranormal, with parents who thought they were psychic detectives, and not picked up a thing or two.
"You're a werewolf," she whispered. Her heart fluttered and her breath changed from the quick, nervous pulse of infatuation to the sharp intake of fear.
He shook his head. "No. Not exactly." He was watching her closely, afraid she'd run. He stretched his hand over hers, gluing it to the table. She flinched, but then laced her fingers with his. "Don't be scared."
Kristin wanted to run. Everything she knew about werewolves said they were dangerous man-eaters. But Derrick didn't look dangerous, he looked... nervous. "Not exactly a werewolf?" she asked. "Then what?" She couldn't believe she was buying into any of this. She'd always thought her parents were crazy. But his eyes... and his knee... It had definitely been broken. She'd felt the pieces popping out behind his skin.
"A panther."
Her jaw dropped and her glass fell towards the floor. Derrick reached out with lightning speed and caught it in mid-air like it was a feather floating to the ground. "Oh my God," she said, trying not to raise her voice. Her eyes gleamed. Her blood burned with a strange heat that made her want to flee, but also stimulated her curiosity which overshadowed any fear she currently had. When she spoke, her voice was strong and steady—"Show me."
Chapter 5
Derrick and Kristin slipped out of the pub and started walking. Neither of them were familiar enough with the city yet to know where the good hangout spots were, so they just walked in silence until they came to a small park with two swings and a merry-go-round, no slide. Kristin sunk into a swing and pumped twice with her feet, then let the swing sort of roam over the dirt, too slow to lift her, too fast to just hang still.
"Funny that we're both back on the West Coast," Derrick said, taking the swing next to hers. He sat in it without moving.
"I'm not back," she said. "I never left." There was a bitter edge to her voice that Derrick wished he could wipe away with a kiss. It was dark and the air was warm, which was strange for early winter. The wind whipped around them, a light frenzy of energy seeping into Kristin’s skin and making it tingle.
Kristin had the urge to bicker. The longer they sat together, the more she realized she was pissed. "How could you not have written me?" she demanded.
He watched her in the darkness. She was angry. He could smell it. She was cute when she was mad.
"I did write," he said.
"What? When?" She snapped her head towards him.
"For the first six months I wrote every day. I thought you didn't write back because you'd moved on. That's what my parents said. Then one day I found my letters, still stamped, rubber banded together in a shoe box in my mom's closet."
Kristin's jaw fell open. At least now she could pinpoint where to direct her rage. "So it's your parents I hate. Not you?"
Derrick grinned. "You don't hate me."
"Yes, I do." She turned her head and pretended to be extraordinarily interested in the rust on the swing's chain.
He reached across the space between them and brushed her arm with his fingertips. It was no more than a second's touch, but thick waves of heat shot up her body. She looked back at him and felt the corners of her lips curl up. "Do too hate you," she said, then giggled.
Derrick was glad to see her smile. Her lips were too perfect to frown. They deserved smiles. "Do you know what happened between our parents?" he asked.
She shook her head. "Do you?"
"I think so. When I hit puberty, and started changing, my parents thought yours should know. We spent so much time together, they were afraid I might shift in front of you and scare you." He looked at her with apologetic eyes. "It's hard to control when it first happens. Your parents freaked out. I guess it's understandable. I mean... I am a dangerous predator."
He looked at her and wiggled his eyebrows. She giggled.
"So, that's it? That's the big secret after all these years? You're a werewo—a were-panther? What the hell do I call you?"
"Derrick always worked before," he said, and her laughter carried to his ears, a brilliant song in the still, night air.
"So, you gonna show yourself, panther-man? Or does the moon need to be full?"
"Watch the merry-go-round," he said, and began stripping off his clothes.
Kristin started to open her mouth but shut it when sh
e saw Derrick's hair start to grow. It was already a little shaggy, but as he walked his hair seemed to stretch. By the time he got to the merry-go-round it was past his shoulders. He turned back to her once before sending the merry-go-round into a fast spin. His eyes had turned into gold coins that gleamed in the moonlight.
The merry-go-round spun once, twice, and on the third spin Derrick sent it into circles so fast it reminded Kristin of a tornado. He began to run alongside it, a racecar on its track. She was sure he'd get dizzy and stop, but his speed only increased. His focus intensified. As he ran, his clothes came off. She averted her eyes, but when his torso began to elongate—it almost looked like he was melting—she couldn't pull her eyes away. His face changed. His golden skin grew dark, and when he looked towards her a second later his face was black silk and his eyes were a golden hazel she'd never seen before.
He was running so fast he overtook the merry-go-round and jumped on. A second later he jumped off again. Then he jumped over it. He's playing with it, she thought, smiling. A big toy for a big cat. She'd never seen a black panther so close before. She watched, transfixed, until the merry-go-round slowed down. Feeling like she’d pass out, Kristin put her head between her knees.
Derrick was back beside her in an instant, human again, his hands on her back. "Are you okay?" he asked, sounding anxious. "Did I scare you?"
Kristin was a little disappointed to see he had his pants back on.
"How could you not have told me?" she asked. Blinding fury raged up in her so strong she went to slap him, but at the last second she pulled back and ended up slipping her hand through his hair instead. He caught it and held it.
CLAIMED BY THE ALPHA UNDERBOSS Page 45