by Leela Ash
Bree ignored them. She scrambled to her feet and ran all the way home.
Chapter 5
“Well, I hope you’re happy,” Finn told his Dragon.
Utter devastation spread in all directions around him. Two-foot trenches clawed in the Earth. Uprooted trees, their wood shattered into matchsticks. Even a handful of boulders with large chunks gouged out.
That was his work. Or, rather, his Dragon’s.
He’d awakened from Bree’s…
…treachery!...
…Bree’s shocking confession, he corrected his Dragon. Furious, swimming in rage. Dragon’s didn’t handle…
…treachery!...
…disappointment well. ‘A true Dragon is his own master’, as his Alpha was fond of saying. Yet, it was also true that a wise man picked his fights. Maybe he could force his wild soul to swallow its pride. But why bother? Better to fly out here, far from civilization, where it could vent its rage safely. A few squirrels might die of fright, but that was the worst of it. This mess? A feast for beavers and woodpeckers.
Now, with the red rage finally dimming, he sat down amidst the ruin and tried to think.
So much for ‘true love.’ His ‘soul mate’ was promised to another man.
That admission stung, a sharp, stabbing blow to the heart that set his Dragon’s fury flaring again.
“I am such an idiot,” he said to no one. “This time, this time, things would be different. Hah.”
She is a traitor!
“No.” Firmly, he pushed his Dragon’s rage out of his mind. “She’s one of the Lost. Probably never Shifted in her entire life. She has no idea what the Rite of Claiming is. To her, this was just a strange dream. Of course, she didn’t take it seriously!”
But he had. For one night, for one glorious moment, he had dared to believe…
He cut that thought off too. He’d dared to believe stupid things. Best not to dwell on that.
Not when he needed to plan for the future.
Clearly, Bree Williams was not his woman.
We Claimed her! his Dragon protested.
“Oh, great! She’s a traitor but we Claimed her, so… what? She’s our traitor? Nobody else can have ‘our’ traitor?”
Fuming, his Dragon refused to answer.
The first prick of a headache blossomed behind his eyes.
He would die of shame if his Alpha, his Flight, found out how he’d been humiliated. He could never mention that stupid dream. On that, he and his Dragon agreed.
“So, we’re going to let her go.”
His Dragon seethed.
“Stop it. If we can’t love her, we’re letting her go to a man who can. She deserves love, if she can find it.”
There. That quieted his soul.
“We never mention this.” Again, embarrassed agreement. “We do our job, buy this Wellspring, and call the Wolves in to care for it. Then we leave.”
And this humiliation would be just another failing in a long, long list.
An urge welled up inside him. He longed to Shift once more and vent his anger on the land around him.
But he wouldn’t. Enough was enough.
Time to fly back to Jackson. Time to put ‘love’ and all of its horrors behind him once more.
Chapter 6
Something followed her back.
Bree saw it out of the corner of her eye. Hazy forms in doorways that disappeared as soon as she faced them. Movements she caught out of the corner of her eyes. She heard it. Whispers in the night. Footsteps in empty rooms. Night after night, she dreamed of the pool, lost in the mist.
Home didn’t feel safe anymore.
On Monday morning, after a sleepless weekend, Bree broke down and called her therapist, who promptly pointed out the obvious: this was just stress. Closing a huge deal, getting engaged… no wonder her nerves were shot! Fortunately, the therapist assured her, there were drugs to take care of things like this. One quick consultation and he’d write her a prescription.
In the meantime, he recommended meditation and yoga.
Right. Bree almost laughed as she made the appointment. Like she was going to sit still that long!
No, what she needed was to get out. Away from the silence and solitude. A few hours in town, in the middle of life and fun, would do wonders.
Downtown Jackson boasted scores of shops, ranging from tourist kitsch to designer chic. Everything a budding millionaire could want. Bree spent a couple hours window shopping. Surrounded by noisy, happy people, she felt her spirits rise. Just as she’d hoped, the bustle of humanity warmed her.
By noon, she had a healthy appetite and headed over to Lafferty’s. No fast food for this lady! The waiter whisked her to her favorite table in the back, one that overlooked the restaurant’s courtyard garden. They passed Daven, listening attentively as an older woman prattled about trusts and funds and irresponsible grandchildren. Her fiancé gave a little wave but never took his eyes off his client.
Just as she expected. Business came first. And it was just as well. A courier delivered the pre-nups on Saturday. Daven would want to know if she consented to them, so the wedding could move ahead. Bree didn’t want to admit that, despite the fact that absolutely nothing had happened, she hadn’t found the time to look them over.
Settled in her favorite spot, sipping on a glass of a California merlot, she started to feel like herself again.
Until he walked in.
Finn Donnelly.
Like a shark drifting through a school of minnows, he glided through the restaurant. A tantalizing hint of danger lingered around his big, powerful form. The men he passed seemed to shrink, to dwindle, dwarfed by his broad size. A white polo shirt clung to his muscled form. Its short sleeves revealed his biceps for the admiration of all the women here.
Bree remembered those arms. Her body warmed as she recalled how they wrapped around her, claiming her, lifting her into…
…something that didn’t happen!
With a sigh, she gazed out the window. How embarrassing! To be mooning about a dream in public. Worse – in front of her fiancé! Therapy and drugs couldn’t happen fast enough!
When she looked back, she found him staring at her.
Anger lit his grey-blue eyes. Teeth clenched, lip pulled back in a half snarl, he was the picture of barely restrained rage. What the hell was he mad about?
Bree glared back. She’d show him she couldn’t be intimidated!
“Mr. Donnelly! How good to see you.” His eyes narrowed as he stalked over to her table. “Won’t you join me?”
“I’d rather not.”
Sharp, cold, and menacing. Nothing like his friendly demeanor the other day. What on Earth had Nielsen told him? Something about her, obviously. Something awful.
One again, the ghostly image of a Dragon shimmered behind him. When she blinked, it was gone. Another quiet warning that she needed to see that therapist, soon.
“Please.” She waved at the empty seat. “It’s about the property line.”
Wary, he took the seat and folded his arms across his broad chest. Classic hostile body posture, she noted. “I’m having a title search done on your neighbor’s property. That should clear up any questions about the property line.”
“I can save you the trouble. I found the property markers in the middle of that field. They prove that the pool is on my land, not my neighbor’s.”
“You’ll forgive me if I do my own research. You’re not exactly trustworthy, are you?” His rich, deep bass rumbled like a bear’s warning growl.
“Excuse me?” Bree leaned forward, refusing to be cowed. “Have I done anything to you? No.”
Finn took a deep breath, as if he planned to disagree. Then his mouth snapped shut.
“I don’t know what stories my neighbor told you. Yeah, there’s bad blood between us. Maybe some of it’s my fault. But who cares? Honestly, I’d like to see you buy his place. It would get him out of my hair. Don’t let him poison our relationship.”
“
Our relationship.” He winced, like he’d bitten tin foil.
Damn, he was a strange man! Still, she might end up living next to the weirdo. Best to smooth things over if she could. “Look, if you have concerns, tell me. I want us to be good neighbors.”
The wrath that lit his face dimmed. As it did, his shoulders sagged, as if anger had been the only thing holding him up. “I apologize. I’m just annoyed. I was very fond of that little pool. I could offer you money – a lot of money – to sell it to me. But obviously, you’re not interested.”
Of course not.
Was she?
Friday, she would have said no. Hell no. After a haunted weekend, though? After eerie mists, ghostly figures, and an empty house that seemed filled with invisible people?
“Probably not.” Even to her ears, that sounded more like a question than a statement.
Finn straightened, instantly alert. “Are you suggesting that you might sell?”
“No promises. I just… I’ve been thinking of selling my house. Moving into town where things are livelier. It gets a little lonely out there.”
“I would, of course, be happy to purchase your home instead of your neighbor’s.”
Wow. Fixate much? “I’m not sure, of course. I need to think about this more.” And see if therapy, drugs, and a spa day fixed her ‘stress’ problem.
That announcement should have made him happy. Instead, he leaned toward her. The last traces of hostility melted away from his craggy face. “It’s none of my business, Ms. Williams, but has something happened?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“Because three days ago, you were ready to challenge me to a duel – just because I had the audacity to want your land. Now, you say you might sell. What changed?”
“I… Nothing.” An annoying little quaver trembled in those words.
“You can tell me.” His hands, rough and warm, closed around hers. Hands she’d dreamed caressed her body, stroking her…
Bree gulped, struggling to focus on reality. “Nothing. Honest. Nothing happened, not really.”
She ought to pull away from him. Pretty cheeky of him to scoop her hands up like this. They didn’t even know each other! Yet, a reassuring strength lay in his hands and Bree found herself unwilling to leave it.
“Tell me, please.” Pale eyes, clear as ice, bore into hers. Yet, his tone was gentle. Like a cowboy calming a skittish colt. “I will believe you. No matter how crazy your story may be.”
Tempting. So tempting. But…
“Pardon me.”
Daven stood by their table, scowling at her.
Why was he… oh! Bree’s cheeks blazed as she realized she was still holding Finn’s hands. Quickly, she pulled them away and folded them in her lap.
Finn glanced at the newcomer – and immediately, anger lit his face once again. “Ah. The fiancé,” he sneered.
How did he know she was engaged? She’d dreamed she told him – but it hadn’t really happened!
Not that she had to say anything, she realized suddenly. She wore a rock the size of Mt. Everest and Daven was definitely giving off a ‘PO’d Boyfriend’ vibe.
“Daven! This is Finn Donnelly. He’s interested in buying the Nielsen property.”
“Really?” Her fiancé inched closer to Finn, towering over the seated man. “And so, the two of you decided to… have lunch?”
“No. Ms. Williams called me over to let me know she’d found the property markers. There was some confusion.”
“Was there?” Daven stared pointedly at the other man’s hand, which had so recently enclosed hers.
Finn rose to his feet. Now, he towered over Daven by six inches. “Yes.”
Nervously, the lawyer scuttled back, putting a little distance between them.
Bree knew she should diffuse the malice simmering between the two men, but the whole situation baffled her. She didn’t understand Finn’s anger, or the reason he scooped up her hands. Or why she hadn’t repulsed him the moment he did.
Finn pulled a business card out of his wallet and set it in the middle of the table. “My number, Ms. Williams. Please do call me if you decide to sell your property.”
With a nod to her and to Daven, he walked out.
Her fiancé recovered his courage as soon as the big man turned away. Glaring at Finn’s back, he sat down across from her and took her hands in his.
Something he never did.
Without thinking, she pulled away – and immediately realized that was a mistake when Daven’s scowl turned on her.
“Are you okay?”
“Of course!” Bree gave a short, fake laugh to reassure him. “I just wanted to clear up the property line confusion and save myself some legal fees.”
“I wouldn’t ever charge you. I’ll defend you for free if he bothers you again!”
Offers of protection ought to be charming – but this one left her cold. It was too silly, too angry. Daven reminded her of a dog barking furiously because another dog had peed in his yard.
That’s unkind. He’s just doing this because he loves you.
Really? Then why he was scowling at her like she was the villain here?
“When did you plan to tell me about your move?” His lips pinched in a thin, hostile line.
“My what? Oh! I don’t intend to move. I just want to keep my options open.”
“I could see that,” he sneered.
That was the last straw. Her own temper rose to match his. “What do you mean by that?”
“You know what I mean.”
She did. But she wanted to force him to admit it. “Are you saying I’m not allowed to talk to other men now that we’re engaged? That’s going to shoot my career in the head.”
“That’s not what I’m saying at all.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying we’re a partnership now and you need to start running things like this by me before you do them.”
Their first argument. Wonderful. Was this what she had to look forward to in their marriage? “Things like what? What do you think happened here?”
“You planning to move.”
Damn, that pout made her want to slap him! Bree turned away before the urge grew stronger. As she did, she spotted a large black puddle by Lafferty’s front door. A slick, black pool, as if someone had dribbled car oil all across the fancy restaurant.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Daven’s angry question drew her attention away from the mess.
“Are you going to apologize?” That pout was back, in full force.
“For what? For thinking I might possibly move?”
“For not including me.”
“In what? In my thoughts?”
Oh, this was ridiculous. Bree shook her head, furious, and…
The puddle was gone.
No, not gone. Moved. Now it pooled in the aisle halfway to their table. As she watched, a waiter whisked through it, dirty dishes balanced on his arms. Nothing happened. He didn’t slip. The puddle didn’t ripple. Nothing dirty got tracked across the floor.
A shadow? No, it was too dark, its edges too sharp. Staring at its inky, unmoving surface, Bree shivered.
“Yes, in your thoughts,” Daven hissed. The lawyer was vibrating with quiet fury but still tried to keep his voice low. Mustn’t cause a scene in public, after all! “If you’re thinking about making a major life change, you need to…”
“Stop.” She tapped him on the hand, silencing his complaints. Suddenly, she couldn’t care less about this idiotic fight. “What’s that?”
She pointed at the aisle.
The clean, spotless aisle…
Daven turned, grumbling, “What’s what?”
It was gone again.
Or was it?
Bree’s blood turned to ice. Slowly, knowing what she was going to find, she looked down.
A puddle of purest midnight pooled around their feet.
With a shriek that turned every head in the place, she
snatched her feet up onto her chair.
“Bree!” Shock wiped the pout off his face. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“Don’t touch it! Daven, move your feet move…”
And, of course, he didn’t listen. He ducked his head under the table but left his feet planted firmly in the middle of that horrible blob. “Don’t touch what?”
“That!” She jabbed a finger at the mess he sat in.
“I don’t see anything. Was there a mouse?”
A mouse? Bree’s head snapped up but there was no sign of sarcasm in his face. Puzzled, he stared down at his feet.
And saw nothing.
No puddle. No ink. No shadowy menace creeping across the floor.
What is wrong with me? I better head over to the therapist’s now. Appointments be damned, this is an emergency.
Of course, when she looked down again, it was gone. Completely.
She was nuts. Crazy. Bonkers.
Fortunately, her fiancé had offered her a way to salvage her pride. “Yeah, a mouse. I saw a…”
Daven’s hand slammed down upon her wrist. Fingers like iron cables closed, holding her hand in an unbreakable grip. “Ow! Daven, what the hell?”
The man who glared at her from across the table wasn’t Daven.
Oh, he wore Daven’s body, that lean, handsome form she knew so well. But his eyes…
His eyes were pure black. Two tiny pools of darkness.
“This is your ‘love’?” Contempt dripped from each word. Daven’s lips curled with revulsion, as if he held a slimy worm instead of his fiancée’s hand. “This is the ‘miracle’ of which your kind boasts?”
“Daven, let go. You’re hurting me.” She tried to jerk free, but her hand seemed nailed in place.
“Rage. Jealousy. Pettiness. Greed.” Each word spat out like a piece of filth. With each, his voice rose. Heads turned, waiters froze. Every eye in the place was fixed on them.
“Daven…”
“He rots under your touch,” the creature sneered. “The darkest parts of his soul grow strong. The light dies. Because of you. Your ‘love’ is filth, manure that you vomit on a soul, polluting it with…”