He blinked his instincts away. “See how tired I am? I’m hearing things that aren’t there.” He scratched his head and went to leave the room.
“Jon?”
He turned. “Yeah?”
“Sweet dreams.”
“Thanks.” On his exit, he said over his shoulder, “Night, honey.”
Rising from the L-shaped beige sectional, Catherine went to the bathroom and inspected her face, finding her eyes dull and lifeless. She pulled her damp hair into a ponytail, the end reaching the middle of her shoulder blades. Intending on joining her fiancé, she half-heartedly brushed her teeth for bed when a desperate and unexpected tug pulled at her chest. Disturbed, she gazed at her reflection, as it became literal pain. Blinking to the ceiling she asked herself what was wrong. Her stomach felt as though she’d never want to eat again.
Before she realized what she was doing, her bare feet had tiptoed to the front door. She carefully picked up her house keys from the bowl on the pretty antique table, and slid her Chanel coat off the hook. Tugging on fur-lined boots, she ignored the fact that her outfit didn’t match at all. It simply didn’t matter.
She slipped out into the co-op hallway and locked their flat up very, very quietly.
Stepping onto Seventh Avenue, she paid the cabbie and told him, “Thank you for being so fast.” Her eyes were already fixed on her reason for coming, the building she’d secretly helped come to fruition. She hadn’t dared drive by it since they’d broken up and had in fact avoided it like the plague, but tonight she felt drawn to it.
This building. She had a large part in making it happen. Dontae, Darik, Eli and Nathaniel— the architects of D.D.E.N. Inc.—would never know that, but she knew it. That’s what mattered. As pedestrians crossed her path behind and in front, Catherine gazed up at the structure towering above, marveling at what they had accomplished. It was one of many, now, designed by them, but it had been the springboard. The beginning of their success. She’d read mentions of their firm in the paper a few times over the years since they’d been apart. It seemed he and his talented friends were making a quiet but very important splash with green design.
How exciting that must be! Maybe I just need a purpose. What am I about to do? Marry a man I don’t really love and stay home having his children? Is that my future?
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
Ice poured into her spine as her head swiveled left toward the sound of the voice.
His voice.
Only ten feet away, was intensely masculine Dontae Sheppard in a black Hugo Boss suit, glaring at her with supreme hatred.
“Dontae,” she whispered in disbelief. With all the dignity of her bloodline, she collected herself, and in her calmest voice, said, “You look well.”
Fire practically shot from his mouth. “How is it you called me twenty-five minutes ago, and now you’re standing exactly where I’m at, Catherine?” The sound of her name falling from his lips melted her, but she didn’t want to show it. Jonathan always called her Cate, as her parents did. But Dontae had never done that. Her lips parted as she blinked at him. “Are you stalking me?”
All the warm fuzzies vanished. Through daggers she hissed, “You must be insane if you think me capable of such a thing.”
His nostrils flared and his eyes seemed to lighten. “Dammit,” he muttered, shaking his head like a dog before he locked eyes with her again. “Then why are you here?”
“Why are you here?” she countered, crossing her arms.
“I’m not the one wearing a nightgown in the middle of the night, with my hair freshly showered.”
She looked down and felt illogically hurt he didn’t remember the dress. “This is a summer dress, I’ll have you know. And what does it matter that my hair is damp. What do you care?”
“It’s not summer.” He motioned to the dress peeking through the unbuttoned Chanel. “You always wore those before bed.”
She shot back, “I wore nothing before bed with you. Or have you forgotten?”
Seething, he glared at her. “Don’t follow me.” Then he looked past her at something. She swallowed hard as he walked away. Turning quickly she called out with a pained cry, “Dontae!”
He froze, his back to her. His shoulders stiffened under his well-tailored jacket. He cracked his neck and she noticed he must have just gotten a trim—the line of his haircut was perfect. He fought the urge to turn around, and succeeded. She felt her heart crumble as his best friend Darik jumped out of cab and locked eyes with Dontae. Darik’s face changed and stricken by their quiet exchange, he glanced over to Catherine with his lips parted in shock. She didn’t know what to do so she just stood there as pedestrians passed her on both sides, a frozen tableau of pain between them. Darik’s blue eyes hardened and he shook his head in the smallest of motions, a message not to follow them inside.
She wanted to scream, As if I have no self respect! Please!
They disappeared, and a tender piece of her vanished with them. She stumbled as she walked to the end of the sidewalk to hail the first available cab. Climbing in, she told the cabbie, “Just drive. I need to think. I’ll give you an address when I’m ready.”
Without a flicker in his eyes, he started the meter and pulled away from the curb. Catherine couldn’t help but steal a final glance at the bar’s window, compelled to soak in her ex’s image one last time. It wasn’t possible. Too many strangers were in the way.
Now that she’d been face-to-face with him, she felt emptier. Memories flooded her as the cab drove aimlessly through the city.
The time they drove down the coast to spend a winter weekend in Washington D.C. and see the Monuments. How he’d walked among them as if he were their king rather than an average citizen, so handsome that she stared at him more than at Lincoln. “What are you looking at?”
“A great man,” she’d smiled. “And an enigma.”
Hazel eyes danced on a prideful smirk as he turned back to the enormous sixteenth president of the United States. “I can take him,” he’d joked.
And the awkward time he opened his apartment door to find her standing on the welcome mat. She’d ‘surprised’ him with a visit but really she was trying to find out if he was hiding a wife and child. He was so elusive she thought he must be secretly married. He wasn’t.
He’d opened the door, stared down at her with those piercing eyes, and shocked her back by blurting, “I love you.” It was the first time he’d said it. There was such raw honesty her skin shimmered with goosebumps. He’d drawn her close, shut the door and taken her against it, ripping her panties in the process.
And before they’d moved in together, when she’d danced half-naked in her two-story Brownstone teasing him that he wasn’t allowed to touch her until he promised to meet her parents. He promised. But he never followed through.
And the sunny morning when he made her scrambled eggs with Greek feta cheese, not wearing a stitch of clothing as he raked a hand through his blonde hair excitedly telling her they’d finally gotten their first big commission the previous day—a building on Seventh Avenue. He’d shot her a look filled with such pride she promised herself never to confess she’d been instrumental in securing that big-money job.
He and his friends had talent. She’d seen it and believed in it. But they knew no one. New York City is the biggest small town in the world. However, she had incredible connections everywhere. Her great, great, great-grandparents had purchased the elegant Upper East Side three-story building now lived in by her mom and dad. Their bloodline ran through the veins of Manhattan. Catherine’s family was even distantly related to both the Rockefeller’s AND the Kennedy’s.
And yet there she was living with a man who for all she could discover had absolutely no history at all. None. There was no trace of his past in any search engine or library database. When she asked who his family was, he told her they were from Canada, but were no longer alive. “Don’t worry. I’m not after you for a Green Card. I’m a U.S. citizen, born here.
Raised there.” He’d given her a swanky smile that made her want to stop asking questions. He had a way of doing that, but sooner or later the nagging suspicion that he was hiding something really, really big always came back to haunt her.
She asked him outright many times. He denied holding anything back. “Why do we always have to fight about this? I’m not hiding anything, Catherine!”
In the end her women’s intuition couldn’t take it anymore. She found herself pulling Jonathan Connors into a bathroom at a family function—a respectable man her family approved of, had not only met but knew well, and who had no secrets whatsoever. He was a good person.
But he wasn’t Dontae. Nobody was Dontae Sheppard.
In only a few months Catherine Zenith would become Catherine Connors. Everything was set except for the dress. “I can’t find one I like,” she’d told her mother. But in a deep place in her heart, she knew it was much more than that.
Chapter Four
With blue eyes locked on Catherine, Darik assured Dontae, “She’s staying put,”
He grunted, grabbed the door handle and moved over as two men walked out. What they were saying, he’d never know. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t hear. His heart felt like shrapnel. His eyes were ghosts of their formers selves. Her scent had him hostage. For the first time in his life he actually hated that his senses were accentuated more than a human’s. She’d smelled like shampoo, mango soap…and Catherine. He’d forgotten that sweet smell a long time ago and now he wanted to kick himself for accosting her. He should have just walked by her when he’d seen her standing there. He should have hid.
But he was never one to hide.
Darik followed him all the way to the far end of the bar where there was space to stand, and ordered for them two double shots of Oban scotch. While they waited, the blue-eyed wolf threw his arm around Dontae’s shoulders and because he was a good friend, didn’t say a word. In silence they stood among the crowd of well-dressed people of all ages, cultures and diversity, their expressions a stark contrast to the jovial vibe in the room.
The amber filled glasses arrived and a credit card was given to hold open the bill. The blonde female bartender tried to smile at Dontae, but he couldn’t see her. He only saw Catherine’s face. He picked up the rocks glass and stared at it before taking a drink. He even forgot to toast, a custom he never forgot to enjoy.
After he finished drinking the large pour in one desperate gulp, he set the glass slowly down and threw his friend a somber glance. “Thank you for coming.”
Darik’s eyes flickered and he nodded, finishing off his own glass to set it beside Dontae’s. Another sign of a good friend, Dontae thought.
“Two more, please,” Darik called to the bartender. He glanced to his friend. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here.”
“Go ahead. Ask me.”
“Okay. What was Catherine doing there? You looked shell-shocked. Was she with you the whole time you were waiting?” Then he muttered, “I wish I’d told the driver to go faster.”
Dontae loosened his tie. “I’d been staring at our first creation. For how long, I don’t know. Then out of nowhere her scent carried on the breeze and it felt…I don’t know, not real. I thought I was dreaming it for a second because we were together when we got that commission. Totally natural to think about her when I looked at it. But then…”
Darik finished, “Then there she was. Is this the first time you’ve seen her since…?”
Dontae nodded. “Yep.”
The bartender returned and plopped freshly filled glasses down like someone over their job who should look for a new one. He ignored her and waited for her to leave them alone. As soon as she was out of earshot, Dontae continued, “She called me earlier tonight. I don’t know why she did, or what she was doing then at our building. I mean, what the fuck, Darik? What the fuck was she doing there?”
“I don’t know. Why’d she call you?”
“Because she’s fucking crazy! How should I know? I accused her of stalking me, but she hadn’t. Truth is…she’s not like that, I know. It was an impulse because it seemed like she’d found me somehow.” He muttered, “I guess I’m naturally suspicious.”
Darik stared at his glass. “When you hack and search files like we do, it’s easy to think other people can do that, too. But most can’t.”
In order to help victims of crime, the four werewolves had a system in place that enabled them to locate people, often evildoers so they could kick the shit out of them, scare them into confessing, and in any way possible bring them to justice. “Don’t blame yourself. So, what are you gonna do?”
“Forget it ever happened as quickly as fucking possible.” Dontae sat on the waiting bar stool and slouched.
Darik took a seat, too, before venturing, “Look D, you haven’t had a vacation in years. Not since you two were together. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you need one.”
Dontae sighed into his glass before he took a sip. He knew the prognosis was accurate and unwanted. “I like being busy. It keeps me motivated.”
“For?”
“Just motivated.”
Dontae looked over at the hot female bartender as she reached up on her tiptoes for a bottle from a top shelf, but could only see Catherine. Her just like that in the kitchen, reaching up for curry in the cabinet, telling him her Indian cooking class was so much fun. “Just wait until you see what I can do, Dontae. You’re going to love this.”
Fuck. Why’d she have to be the one who gnaws at my psyche? The cheater? The liar? The whore who’s probably been banging everyone in sight and then calling me to whine about it tonight, wondering how come she can’t find love.
He ordered another drink.
They sat in silence as two more rounds went by. Nathaniel and Eli would have sat quietly with him, too, although maybe Eli would have tried to make him laugh. He’d have succeeded but it would not have been an easy undertaking for both of them. Eli was the least patient with Dontae’s hatred of women. Well hatred was maybe too harsh a word…but he sure didn’t trust them. And all because of the flaxen-haired beauty whose ghost just ripped him to shreds all over again.
Dontae sighed, motioning for the bartender to come over.
“Another round?” she asked without emotion of any kind.
“No,” Dontae muttered. “Just the check. But use this card. Not the one he gave you.” He handed her a black American Express card.
Darik objected, “D, let me get this for you.”
“No. But thank you. For…you know.”
The bartender glanced between them on a smile and turned to run the card. When she brought it back, she said, “So you’re not a jerk after all.”
Dontae just snarled at her until she scurried away.
Darik chuckled, “Nice job.”
“She’s an idiot.” As they headed for the door, he added in a voice that over the music, conversation and bad acoustics, only another werewolf could hear, “Darik, seriously. You saved my ass. At least maybe I’ll be able to sleep now.”
“Anytime, D, anytime.” He swung open the door and moved over to let two more schmoes come inside, probably needing to drink away some woman, too.
Females. What a lurid lot.
That night in his bed, Dontae stared at the white ceiling and replayed what she had said to him in the Hamptons: I slept with someone else. He saw her face. Her wiggling toes. The waves crashing under the moonlight. His world falling apart.
They say time heals all wounds. Not always.
Maybe it was the fact that his supernatural senses were heightened that made him remember things more acutely than a normal mortal would. Whatever the reason, every time he saw her lips open to say the words that lacerated his soul, he felt the old pain slice into him as if she’d confessed it tonight.
Finally he threw off the blankets and went for his phone.
His heart raced as he pressed the now-memorized number. Just when he was sure voicemail would pick up, he heard h
er quietly whisper, “Well, I never thought I’d hear from you again.”
Gruffly, he demanded, “Why did you call me tonight?”
There was quiet on the other end of the line. Except that for werewolves, there never is true silence anywhere, not when they chose to listen. One could block out the world if he wanted, but when it was necessary, the distant heartbeat of a bird could be heard with enough focus. With laser-like precision he tuned in. He wanted to hear her heartbeat, to gauge how she really felt when she sounded this calm. It raced. It almost matched his. Almost. The sound was torture, so he immediately shut it out.
Finally she said, “I don’t know why I called.”
“You’re going to have to do better than that,” he growled. He knew his eyes were glowing, but so what? She couldn’t see them. There was no reason to hide what he was right now. Let his wolf have a voice. They both deserved it after what she’d done.
He could hear her tiptoeing toward something solid. A wall, he guessed, from the way her voice bounced back. “I really don’t know,” she replied, sounding like she had tucked herself into a corner of a large room.
“Is there someone with you?” he demanded. “Are you hiding this call from someone, you cheating whore?”
“I’m not cheating,” she hissed. He could picture her green eyes becoming angry slits, her full lips tightened into a thin line. “I’m having a conversation with you. I’m not fucking you.”
“You call me when you’ve got someone sleeping in another room? That’s cheating.”
“You called me.”
“Catherine! You called me first!”
She exhaled, “You think awfully highly of yourself.”
“No, I just don’t think highly of you.”
She hung up.
“Goddammit!!! Fucking bitch mother fucker!” He threw the phone and watched it shatter against a wall.
Storming to the balcony, he swung open the glass door so hard it came off the hinges. He stepped over the cock-eyed glass and inhaled the New York City night air. His lungs were heaving. The crisp air felt good but something was wrong. He looked down and was startled to find claws there instead of fingers. He shook out his shoulders as he struggled to gain control, quickly retracting the beast to its safe hiding place once more. God help him if someone saw him from another building.
Werewolves of New York: Dontae Page 2