by Jane Jamison
She sucked in a quick breath and hoped he hadn’t noticed. “Maybe a pseudo-tourist? I’m here visiting, but I’m not doing any of the tourist kinds of things.”
“Ah. Okay. I get it.”
Silence fell between them. She drew in a long, steadying breath and kept her focus on the green pasture, his horse, and the beauty of the island. Looking at him brought up all kinds of urges. Like the urge to stroke the stubble on his strong jawline. Or the urge to put her tongue to his ear. Or, better yet, the urge to straddle him as she tugged his jeans open.
“What are you really doing here, baby?”
Why had he started calling her baby? She should’ve asked, but then if she did, he might not call her baby again.
“I told you.”
He shifted toward her, his gaze intent enough to stare into her very soul. She tried to look away but found she didn’t have the power to do so any longer. He drew her to him like a cat to a bowl of milk, a dog to her favorite bone. Was he a vampire? Was he compelling her?
“Yeah, you answered me, but I don’t buy it. There’s another reason you’re here.” He cupped her face. “So tell me? What’s going on, baby?”
Maybe it was the term of endearment that rid her of what little defenses she had left. Or maybe it was a matter of simply wanting him, needing to be touched. She’d felt the same way on the cliff with Taylor and Bryton, and she felt it again now.
Suddenly, she gave in and flung her body on top of his. Cupping his face, she took off his cowboy hat and tossed it away. For the barest of moments, they regarded each other. If he’d wanted to stop her, he could have. Instead, she brought her mouth to his.
His taste was everything she’d hoped it would be. Masculine, warm, wild, and more. Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she swept up those flavors. He wrapped his arms under hers, his hands on her back and pushing her toward him. Nibbles led to bites, lips tugged to add a little pain to the pleasure. She moaned and pushed her breasts against his chest.
Her body revved up faster, her pulse pounding in her ears. The same sensations she’d felt with Bryton and Taylor were back, this time with J.B. Could she want three men at the same time? The answer was easy enough. She could, and she did. Bryton and Taylor had wanted her together, but would J.B. be willing to join in?
The hardness of his growing crotch pushed at her pussy. Heat swamped her, wetting her panties. Shamelessly, she ground against him, pressing hard and rotating her hips.
He tugged her T-shirt out of her jeans, his hands soon finding the clasp of her bra. In one quick move, he undid her bra. She whimpered, needing to have his mouth on other parts of her. Tugging her shirt over her head, she tossed it away and let her bra fall between them. He latched onto her nipple, a groan flowing over her pebbled bud. Laying her head back, she stared at the leaves above her and arched her back.
She didn’t have a future, but she was determined to make her present count. The curse ate at her body from the inside, but in his arms, she felt more alive than ever before.
“God, I want you.”
She cupped the back of his neck, unable to answer with words. Harder, she pushed against him, her need breaking her apart if she didn’t get him inside her soon.
“Baby, fuck me.”
“Yes,” she answered, her hands fumbling with the button of his jeans.
He kissed her breast then traveled across to the other one as he, too, did his best to get her jeans undone.
Please. Please. Please.
Maybe if she begged hard enough, long enough, her wish would come true.
“Shit.” J.B. grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her back.
“What’s wrong? Don’t you want me?”
His gaze darted behind her. “Jimmy’s here. Didn’t you hear the horn?”
“What?” She twisted around and found a thin man with a big grin sitting in the cab of a wrecker. “Oh no.” Hurriedly, she snatched up her shirt and threw her body to the side. Keeping her back to the driver, she quickly dressed.
J.B.’s apologetic look didn’t help much. In fact, he seemed more amused than sorry. She mumbled under her breath. “Hell’s bells, what is with this place? First a damn wolf and now this guy. Can’t a girl have a little fun without someone interrupting her?”
“What’d you say, baby?” J.B. stood, fixing his jeans as he did.
“Nothing.” She glanced at the driver again. “Tell him I’ll be there in a sec.”
Was the universe trying to tell her something? That maybe she should stop fooling around? Other than great sex—it had to be great with men as hot as they were, right?—nothing could come from getting with the men.
“Sure thing. Don’t mind Jimmy, either. He won’t breathe a word of what he saw.”
“Riiight.” Jimmy was probably a major part of the gossip mill in town.
J.B. laughed. “Meet me at the Hair of the Dog Saloon later, okay?”
“No. I don’t think so. This was a mistake.” Hadn’t she said as much to Bryton and Taylor? If so, then why did she keep making the same damn mistake?
“Nah, it’s not.” His kiss was hard and fast, denying any argument from her. “Be there.”
Before she could answer, he strode toward Jimmy, leaving her behind.
What am I going to do? Should I show up tonight? God knows I want to.
Sure, she wanted to, but was it the right thing to do? The last thing she’d expected was to end up with men problems.
“Hell’s bells,” she muttered.
* * * *
“She’s hiding something. I felt it when we were at the cliff.” Bryton pushed the cow into the pen, shut the gate, and then wiped the sweat from his brow. Branding cattle was the last thing he wanted to do. Instead, if he could’ve found a good excuse, he’d have spent the afternoon with Shelby.
“Then why didn’t you talk up before now?” Taylor hauled his body over the fence.
“For the same reason you didn’t. I was hoping I was wrong.” He looked to J.B., who had remained silent. “What about you? Did you pick up on anything when you were with her earlier?” J.B. hadn’t told them much about his “chance” meeting with Shelby. Damn werewolf could keep his mouth shut when he wanted.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, either, but yeah, she seems like she’s holding back. Like she wants to get close but can’t. Since she doesn’t know what we are, it can’t be the shifter thing that’s bugging her.” J.B. settled the cowboy hat back on his head.
“Then what? It’s not her being a witch. We didn’t even flinch when we found out.” Bryton didn’t want anything coming between them.
“Why don’t you do your vampire thing on her, Taylor? Pop into her mind and get the answer.”
“I don’t know. Maybe,” answered Taylor.
“No. She deserves better.” The predator bird inside Bryton rose up, clawing, wanting to teach Taylor more respect for their intended mate. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let the werewolf-vampire invade her privacy.
“Yeah, I know. I was only thinking out loud.”
Taylor pulled his long body into the pickup and waited as J.B. then Bryton got in.
Bryton was glad Taylor hadn’t been serious. “We have to get her to tell us. Whatever it is, it’s eating her up inside.”
“And keeping her from being with us,” added J.B.
“So we wait it out?” he asked, hating that he already knew the answer.
“I don’t see that we have much of a choice.”
He wished J.B. wasn’t right. Grabbing hold of the seat at the abrupt lurch of the pickup, Bryton wondered if being right was good enough. Maybe being bad would be better. Maybe Taylor using his hybrid powers was the only way for them to know.
“Hell’s bells.”
“What’d you say, man?” asked Taylor.
“Nothing. Just a saying.” The wind whipped through his hair as they drove back to the ranch. If they were lucky, she’d tell them everything tonight.
Chapter Six
; Shelby couldn’t remember the last time she’d had so much fun. After spending the day in turmoil—should she go or not?—she’d finally realized she had to go. Not taking the chance to see the men again drove her crazy. Every time she made up her mind not to go, she’d remember their faces, their hard bodies, the way they looked at her. Then it was all over. Like a salmon swimming upstream, she didn’t really have a choice.
Reagan was once more on the dance floor. It seemed every man in town wanted her. Although the men did their best to catch Reagan’s full attention, she rarely stayed with one man and, instead, was ready to dance to the next song with a new partner.
“Why are you staring at Reagan?” J.B. took her drink out of her hand, set it on the counter, and tugged her toward the dance floor.
She grinned, a laugh welling in her throat as he spun her around then brought her closer. Thankfully, she’d done a little country western dancing while living in New York City and knew the steps well enough not to make a fool of herself.
“Are you having fun, baby?”
“Yes.” As she had so often that night, she caught herself staring at him and had to force her gaze away. Bryton and Taylor stood off to the side without drinks, ready to take another turn with her. They’d kept her dancing from the moment she’d walked into the bar. Happiness swelled in her to the point where, if she’d been anywhere else, she would’ve shouted with joy. For the first time in a long while, she didn’t think of her dismal future. Tonight was only for tonight. Screw tomorrow.
“I’m glad. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”
Startled, she leaned back to give him a questioning look. “Thanks. That’s sweet of you.”
“Hey, what can I say? Ask anyone. I’m a real sweetheart.”
There was the humor he’d shown her yesterday. The song was coming to an end. “Um, I hate to say it, but I’m going to sit out the next dance. You three are wearing me out.”
“Sure thing.”
As soon as the music ended, he escorted her—away from Taylor and Bryton—to the other side of the room and a table near the wall that had amazingly remained empty until she saw the small Reserved sign on it. “You must’ve been pretty sure I was going to show up.”
He sat next to her, scooting his chair as close to her as possible. “Let’s just say I was hoping you would. I’ve learned not to second-guess what a woman might do. “Especially a witch.”
She glanced around to see if anyone had overheard him. “Keep your voice down, will you? I don’t want everyone to know.”
“Why not? It’s not like we don’t have our own local witches.”
He nodded toward a table close by. Miranda and three other women were talking, waving their hands as the discussion grew livelier. Judging by the way they were dressed, similarly to Miranda, and the air of confidence witches usually seemed to possess, she was willing to bet the other women were part of Miranda’s coven.
“That’s true. Still, I’d rather you not spread it around.”
“Whatever you want, baby.”
“Unless it’s sticking with him all night.” Taylor slipped onto the chair on the other side of her. “Is he trying to monopolize your time?”
“Who me?” joked J.B. “Nah, I’d never do that.”
“Bullshit,” added Bryton as he took the last chair. “Are we done dancing for the night?”
“I hope not. I just needed a rest.” She smiled her thanks as the waitress set down a tray loaded with chilled mugs and a large pitcher of beer. Bryton or Taylor must’ve ordered the drinks before they came to the table. “Thanks. I could use a cool drink.”
“You’re a lousy son of a bitch, and your mother’s a fucking whore!”
Shelby let out a yelp as a man, larger than even her men, landed face down in the middle of the table. The pitchers and glasses were crushed under his weight, and glass stuck in his bushy beard. When he lifted his head, a snarl on his lips, she knew in that instant that he was a werewolf.
Her instinct was to cast a spell of protection, but the men’s instincts kicked in faster. J.B. grabbed hold of the man, lifting him easily off the table, and flung him straight at another man. The other man wasn’t half the size of the burly bearded man, but he held his own, his eyes slanted vertically like those of a werebird. His long, crooked nose grew larger and more pronounced.
Was he going to shift right there in front of all those people?
“Stay put. We’ll be right back.” Bryton flung himself against another man who had joined in the fight. More and more people, men and women, jumped into the fray as others ran for the exits. Before she could react, most of the customers in the bar were involved in the fight.
Where’s Reagan?
She searched but came up empty. Still, she didn’t think she had to worry about Reagan too much. Reagan could handle herself. After all, she was a werewolf. Backing up until she came to the wall, she hunted for the men but couldn’t find them, either.
Was everyone in the fight? What was she supposed to do? Even Miranda and her group had disappeared.
I have to find the men. What if they’re hurt?
She’d done her best not to use her magic, but if they needed help, then she’d use it to help them. Edging along the wall, she finally made her way outside. But the fight had already spilled over into the parking lot.
Relief flooded her when she saw Reagan, Taylor, Bryton, and J.B. crowded together. They faced several men and women, all with angry scowls and hateful glares. Uncaring what the fight was about, she started toward the group, ready to plead with the men and Reagan to back down and leave.
Before she’d gone five feet, she came to a stop. Her heart pounded in her chest as the four of them began transforming. Within a couple of minutes, Reagan and J.B. had changed into werewolves. Bryton’s shift was slower, but soon enough, he’d changed into a huge eagle, his feathers fluffed, his beak open, and wings extended, ready to take flight.
“No,” she whispered.
Taylor twisted toward her. Red eyes flamed in a face that was still human, with fur traveling along his jawline. Recognition dawned in those terrible eyes a moment before the crowd they’d faced down changed from men and women into large, intimidating cougars. “It’s okay, Shelby.”
But it wasn’t. The men she had feelings for weren’t merely men. They and her friend were shifters. At least that was what Bryton, J.B., and Reagan were. She wasn’t certain what Taylor was.
She should’ve been afraid. She should’ve run like the beasts of hell were at her heels. Instead, hurt grew and morphed into anger.
Reagan knew what they were and didn’t tell me.
They didn’t tell me.
“Fuck you.” Pivoting around, she dashed for Reagan’s car, fumbling in her pocket for the key. At least she’d had the sense to accept Reagan’s offer of taking her car. Reagan had sworn she had a friend picking her up.
The parking lot was filled with shifters of all kinds. In her mad rush, she was certain she’d passed by a man who must’ve been a wizard, as he uttered a chant. A few people with their eyes bugging and their mouths hanging open—more than likely actual tourists—stood transfixed at the sight of wolves, cougars, birds, and even a few bears fighting. She did her best to keep her head down and skirt around the fight. At last, she finally made it to her borrowed car. Anger still raged inside her as she unlocked the car and flung her body behind the steering wheel.
“Shelby, sugar, hold up.”
She turned the ignition key. “Get away from me, Bryton. And stop calling me sugar. Not now that I know what you really are.”
A yelp escaped her as an enormous black werewolf landed on top of her hood. His amber eyes stared at her, and a growl drew back his lips. Then, in a blur and the sound of breaking bones, he changed.
J.B. slid off the hood and opened the passenger door. “Don’t run off, baby. We can explain.”
“Give us a chance.” Taylor slipped into the back seat.
“Get out. Now,” s
he ordered.
“No. You need to hear us out.”
“I don’t need to do a damn thing.” Her hands fisted on the steering wheel. If she let go, she’d be sure to throw a spell. “Get out of the car, J.B., or I won’t be responsible for what I do next.”
He dared to laugh. Maybe out of nervousness. Maybe because he didn’t think she’d do anything. If the latter was the case, she’d prove him wrong.
The power roared to life inside her, wiping away everything else. Releasing the steer wheel, she twisted toward J.B., said the short chant, and then threw her hands up, palms out at him. For a moment, his eyes widened. Then he was gone, thrust out of the car to leave the door banging closed behind him.
“Pretty lady, calm the hell down. You don’t want to hurt us. You’re angry. I get that, but—”
Slowly she turned around so she could see Taylor and sent him a blast of her power.
“Shit!”
His body crashed through the rear windshield then rolled down the car and onto the ground.
She faced Bryton. Bryton, however, didn’t try and tell her to stop. Instead, he lifted his hands up and backed off.
“Good thinking,” she said. She waited long enough to see J.B. helping Taylor to his feet. They weren’t hurt, only shaken.
* * * *
Thirty minutes later, Shelby rushed up the front steps of Reagan’s home. She heard the men’s pickup as it skidded into the gravel parking lot. Although her anger had lessened on the way home from the fight outside the bar, she was still upset.
Someone should’ve told her they were shifters. And whatever the hell Taylor was. She felt betrayed, not only by the men, but somehow even more betrayed by Reagan. Why hadn’t her friend told her? She’d revealed herself as a shifter, so why not tell Shelby the men she was growing closer to were more than mere humans?
Her breath hitched in her throat. What would she have done if she’d known? Would she have still shown up tonight? Would she have danced one dance after another with them? Would she have felt a tickle of excitement in her stomach? Would she have yearned for them to kiss her, to hold her, to fuck her?