Haze of Heat

by Jennifer Dellerman

  “What my husband is trying to say,” Natalie put in, splaying a hand on her mate’s thigh, “is that Rachel unfortunately took the brunt of his misplaced anger.”

  “Anger at what, exactly?” Rachel asked.

  Rand looked at Rachel, his gaze settling on the unseen marks on her neck without error.

  That’s right, you bastard. Porter thought with malicious glee and a mountain of pride. Rachel’s mine.

  “Your aunt.”

  Rachel cocked her head in thought. “Because you thought she shouldn’t have married a human?”

  Rand didn’t waver in his answer. “Yes. She is a shifter. She should have mated with her kind and produced the cubs we desperately need to keep our pack thriving.”

  An asshole to the end. Porter bared his teeth.

  “However,” Rand stated before Porter could rip him a new one. “Once my temper had cooled, I realized the, ah, ultimatum I produced was unjust. When I found out about the list my son gave you, I felt obliged to make sure you were okay, and to grant you the sanctuary you’d asked for.”

  “Oh. Well, thank you, but I’m quite happy where I am.”

  Rachel’s declaration made Porter stand up taller. “You could have called and asked her instead of making a special trip out.” He didn’t trust that Rand’s sudden interest in Rachel’s well-being the only reason for this visit.

  “Because I was a second option.” Shaw spoke for the first time. At Rachel’s incredulous look, the big man grinned, giving his granite features rugged appeal. Enough so that Porter shifted again, blocking more of Rachel from Shaw’s engaging smile. That only made the big male laugh.

  “No worries, man. I can see she’s willingly mated to you. Congratulations, by the way.”

  “Yeah.” Porter eyed Shaw cautiously. “Thanks.”

  “We should go, then.” Rand suited action to words and rose to his feet, assisting Natalie.

  “You don’t wish to stay?” Melinda stood as well, looked from Rand to Natalie to Shaw and back again.

  “No reason to now,” was Rand’s curt reply.

  “And being around this many alphas is making me twitchy.” Shaw nodded as he made a wide berth around Porter and Rachel. “Good luck and all that.”

  “Hold on a sec.” Porter waited until Rand and Natalie, trailed by his parents and Santos, left the room. “You seem like a decent guy. A strong one at that. How come you’re following that asshole and not running your own pack?”

  Shaw’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Because that asshole is married to my sister. And my presence makes sure he treats her like the treasure she is.” He looked out one of the living room windows where the others stood talking. When his attention returned to Porter and Rachel, an unholy gleam danced in his fascinating eyes. “And if you think Rand is the real alpha of the pack, you’d be wrong. Rachel would never have mated with my nephew. As for me, I was simply curious about the niece of the only female ever to blatantly defy my brother-in-law.”

  Porter glanced out the same window, taking note of Natalie’s posture, her vivid animation. “Natalie?”

  Shaw’s laugh boomed out in the large room. “That woman’s got more power in her pinkie than her husband has in his whole skinny body. But Greenleaf’s an old pack, set in their ways. Most won’t follow a female alpha. It’s also why Rand, and all of us, are anxious for new matings. For cubs. If we can’t replenish the old, the pack will die out.”

  Porter mused that over. “Change isn’t always a bad thing.” He hugged Rachel tight to his side.

  “Only if it’s the right kind of change.” Shaw and Porter shook hands. “Nice meeting you two.”

  “You as well, Shaw.” Rachel beamed at him. “Good luck.”

  Porter remained silent until Shaw appeared outside, next to the alpha pair. “Cross Rand off the stalker list.” At her irritated sound, he faced her. “What? That’s a good thing.”

  “Yes. But it’s also not Trevor.” She swiveled on her heel and walked out, heading for the back of the house.

  Porter was right behind her. “We don’t know that.”

  “Not until we ask.”

  She was like a dog with a bone. “Hell. Not that again.”

  “Yes, that again.”

  “Seems we’re doing a split shift tonight when it comes to dinner,” Katie remarked from the swinging kitchen doors as Porter and Rachel strode in the empty dining room. “Are the others coming?”

  “They won’t be but a few more minutes,” Porter informed her.

  “We can eat in the kitchen if you’re trying to clean up in here,” Rachel offered, having noticed, as did Porter, the wisps of smoke from the snuffed out cans beneath the chafing dishes.

  Katie shook her head. “It would be best if you didn’t. It’s not safe. Sit and I’ll bring out some tea for everyone.”

  As Katie pushed through the doors, Annie’s voice bellowed out, “Leave my cupcake trays alone, you transparent harpy of ectoplasm.”

  Porter grinned at Rachel, maneuvering her to the sideboard. “I think Annie’s about had it with our ancestor.”

  Melinda’s sigh had Porter and Rachel glancing over their shoulders. “One of you really needs to talk some sense into Cort.”

  “Ah, Mom?” Santos frowned at Melinda as they, along with Andreas, sidled up to fill plates behind Rachel and Porter. “He’s a ghost. His very existence makes no sense.”

  Everyone looked up from what they were doing when the kitchen doors swung open again. “I cook and I clean, which makes this my kitchen. Mine. If you don’t like where something is located, then don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you. Vamoose.”

  Katie winked as she set a full pitcher of tea on the table. “Gram’s classic Southern hospitality.”

  “Thank you, Katie. Did all our guests eat?” Melinda asked, sitting down.

  “Yes. The Johnstons went into the rec room and Mr. Daniels mentioned having a go at the puzzle in the parlor.”

  “Perfect timing,” Rachel whispered at his side. “He’s alone.”

  “No.” Porter didn’t want her anywhere near the other man.

  “What’s the problem?” Santos popped a forkful of chicken in his mouth and chewed.

  Porter frowned when Rachel immediately said, “I want to ask Trevor how he found out about the Orchards.” She proceeded to explain why the writer wasn’t her stalker, and followed that with her theory on how he might have unwitting information regarding Larry.

  “I see no reason not to,” Melinda said, making Porter groan.

  “If anyone asks him, it’ll be me,” Porter decreed.

  Rachel made an impatient sound. “Trevor doesn’t know you. It would be best if I go in alone.”

  “Yeah. Don’t think so.”

  Rachel bared her teeth in a fairly well-replicated feline snarl. “He’s not going to hurt me, you dolt. If you’re so concerned, you can stand outside the door and listen in.”

  “Rachel’s right.” This from Rome, who appeared at the hall archway. “He’ll be more at ease with someone he knows and everyone will feel better knowing he’s not the stalker. We can stand outside and verify if he’s lying.”

  Because lying produced a rotten scent that shifters could pick up.

  “See?” Elated, Rachel pointed her fork at Porter.

  Porter glared at Rome and then turned to Rachel. “If I let you do this, you don’t get within ten feet of him. Don’t make eye contact, and absolutely no touching.”

  He knew his words were high-handed, but gripped by the fierce power of the mating heat and tortured by the uncertainty of his mate’s feelings for him, a lethal breakdown of his control was a wrong breath away.

  Rachel pursed her lips, paused a moment before answering. “First off, I will tell you
that I don’t need your permission. I’ll talk with Trevor with or without you.”

  Porter could feel his cat clawing for freedom, wanting to tie its mate down and demand total submission. Only that wouldn’t work, because Porter wanted something far more important than complete obedience from Rachel. He wanted her heart. He opened his mouth to—what? Apologize? Grunt and growl some more? Bang his fists on his chest?

  “But I’d rather do it with you.”

  That admission snapped his mouth shut and quieted his beast like nothing else would have. A small capitulation that had him lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles in gratitude.

  “Now that bloodshed has been averted,” Rome said, rubbing his hands together, “let’s do some covert operating.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Roughly five minutes later, Porter stood outside the parlor entrance, back to the wall, and watched Rachel waltz into the room, alone. Neither man nor beast was happy about the situation and a low, menacing snarl of impotent outrage emerged before he could stifle it.

  From the other side of the archway, Rome sliced a finger across his neck. Porter flipped him the bird, accompanied by a snapping of razor-sharp teeth. Rome returned the gesture with an explicit and highly imaginative one that made Porter proud. Feeling somewhat less barbaric, he managed to rein in his prowling feline and turn his attention to what was happening on the other side of the wall.

  “I haven’t been in here yet.” Rachel’s voice was steady, her scent unchanged. No fear. “So I haven’t seen this portrait. I believe it’s their ancestor. Cort Fylin.”

  “Yes. And, if the stories I’ve ferreted out are to be believed, he was actually a very successful pirate named Claude Morgan. People think it’s with that ill-gotten wealth how he was able to purchase all this land and finance the building of this magnificent house.”

  Whether Fylin was indeed Morgan, no one knew for certain, and their resident ghost wasn’t talking. However, Rachel’s claim to supernatural assistance in the cave lent credence to that particular theory. Not that Porter cared one way or the other. He loved his home with every fiber of his being. And while he would leave it without a second thought to be with the woman he loved, he knew a part of his heart would forever remain behind.

  “Fascinating.”

  “Even more fascinating is the belief that he haunts this house.”

  “Really?” Porter had to give Rachel credit for sounding completely naive. It tickled his sense of play, even as he silently prodded her to get to the point and get out.

  “Indeed. I have to tell you, I’m not one who believes in ghosts or anything of the supernatural, but there have been a few times I’ve felt a slight chilly breeze in this place and found no cause.”

  There was a moment of silence before Rachel said, “I can’t say I’ve felt any of those, but I don’t disbelieve you.”

  “I keep thinking of that woman at dinner yesterday. Unfortunately, I wasn’t looking at her when it happened so I can’t discount a seizure, or maybe she lost her grip on her utensil? But then why would our hostess blame the air conditioning?”

  Porter’s eyes flew to Rome, laughter threatening to rise at the sight of his brother’s two raised thumbs and dopey grin. In that instant, Porter never adored his brother more. Rome had to know how difficult this was for Porter, letting Rachel go in that room alone, and the usually stalwart sibling was being amusing on purpose, to keep Porter’s possessive fury tamped.

  “I can’t say that I truly know. So, I take it you’re enjoying yourself here?”

  “Oh, indeed. This is a great bed-and-breakfast. Not a lot to do if you like a nightlife with your vacation, but exceedingly lovely for a quiet getaway.”

  No nightlife? Porter shook his head. If the male saw what roamed the grounds during any given night, he’d wet himself.

  “Hmm. I think this goes there.”

  Porter set his jaw. What was she doing now?

  “Excellent. I’ve been looking for that piece for a while. You’re pretty good with puzzles.”

  “Not really. I just know a jaguar’s eye when I see it.”

  Porter squeezed his eyes shut, his whole body shaking with contained mirth. He knew what puzzle they were working on. It was a picture of a single adult male jaguar sprawled out on an ocean of green grass, keeping a watchful eye on four male juveniles, one with a coat of unrelieved black, who tumbled and played at his side. Only it wasn’t just a puzzle. It was a real picture. Of the Felix males on some Father’s Day a long, long time ago.

  Porter really did get his sense of humor from his mom.

  “I’m a little curious how you pick the places you go. To review, I mean. For your travel blog. Do you throw a dart at a map? For instance, how did you choose the Orchards?”

  Finally!

  “I can’t say that I chose it per se. I never knew it existed until Thursday.”

  “No?”

  “I think this section fits...right...here. Perfect!”

  “Nicely done.” Rachel praised the man and Porter ground his teeth to dust.

  “Thanks.”

  “And you heard about the Orchards...?” she prompted, making Porter silently praise her.

  “What? Oh no. I saw it on Larry’s computer.”

  Bingo! Porter and Rome shared a triumphant look and leaned in just a bit more.

  Rachel cleared her throat. “Larry?”

  “Oh. Yes. Jan needed him to work late Friday and Saturday for a publishing project. I remember because I was the one who went down to tell him Thursday morning. He got testy, which surprised me, as such a request isn’t unusual in the publishing industry.” The sound of swooshing air. “Anyway, when he went upstairs to speak with Jan personally, I stayed behind to make some copies and happened to see this website open on his computer. Naturally, since hotels and their ilk are my thing, I was curious and checked it out.”

  The silence that followed nearly killed Porter.

  “A publishing project? So Larry is a writer?”

  “What? Oh, no. He works in the mail and copier room.”

  Works in the mail room? No wonder he was able to obtain Rachel’s address!

  “I see. Did he tell you then, that he was planning a vacation here?”

  “Hmm. No. Well. Yes. When he came back, he was testy, like I said. Mentioned something about plans to fly out and see his wife. I’d already decided to come out, and when I mentioned both my unexpected trip and Larry’s aborted one, Jan was all confused. Not about my last-minute trip of course, as that happens all the time when my curiosity is piqued, but about Larry. Confused because he’d returned from vacation only last week, and if he had a wife, it was news to her.”

  Porter whipped his eyes to his brother’s. Rome mouthed, “I’m on it,” and bolted down the hallway on silent feet, his cell phone in his hand.

  Inside the room, Porter heard a choking sound, smelled Rachel’s excitement. Luckily for Daniels, not sexual excitement.

  Time to get his mate back.

  Inside the room, Rachel and Daniels sat across from each other at the puzzle table, so called because there was always one puzzle or another laid out for everyone’s enjoyment. Over the fireplace hung Cort Fylin’s portrait, his back to the same bay that stretched out and around the Orchards. A big man with thick, white hair, dressed in clothes befitting the era. Both intimidating and intriguing with his heavy cheekbones, wide-set eyes, and a chin that looked like granite. His mouth was in a smirk of satisfaction, head back, one hand on his hip. The other gripped the top of a cane, its ornate handle shaped like a sleek, predatory cat.

  “I do hope he’s not on drugs or anything of that nature,” Daniels was saying as Porter stalked toward the table, catching Rachel’s attention. “He’s worked there several years and has always been a steadfast kind of
fellow.”

  “You don’t mind if I borrow Rachel a while.” Never a question because she belonged with him, always. Porter held out his hand, palm up, for Rachel who took it and stood.

  “Oh.” Daniels looked up, blinked behind his glasses. “No. Not at all.”

  “Goodnight, Trevor. And thank you.” Rachel smiled at the man.

  “You’re welcome, though I’m sure I don’t know what for. Have a good evening.”

  Once they were away, Rachel whispered, “Where’s Rome?”

  “Taking care of the situation.” Anxious to be alone with her, his brisk stride was causing Rachel to double-time it or be dragged. He was about to do the expedient thing and simply pick her up when she abruptly put on the brakes.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place. Until I hear that Larry the mail clerk is in custody, you’ll stay with me.” When she opened her mouth he groused. “I can’t protect you if I can’t see you.”

  “Wait!” She yanked on his hand when he resumed his hurried journey. “If I’m staying with you, I need to get my things from my room. Give me an hour.”

  An hour to pack? “What in the world for? We go up, throw your stuff in your bags. Terminado.” He snapped his fingers. “Finished like that.”

  “Porter.” She laid a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “I need to call my mom. Alone.”

  That need glimmered in her eyes and punched him in the gut. Knowing full well he’d rather cut off his hand before replacing that glimmer with hurt, he tromped down his own relentless need. “All right. But don’t leave the room alone. One of us will escort you. In one hour.”

  From the tight press of her lips, he figured she was squelching an argument. He waited for it, braced himself, but she only nodded. “Thanks.”

  Though it went against his protective nature, he dropped her off at her door, turned on his heel and headed toward the kitchen. Sitting around the massive wood table playing cards were his parents, Annie and Bob.