by Morgan Rae
“Yes, of course,” she said. “I’ll be right back, then.”
Holly left Trish in her office and walked next door to pick up something for lunch. Meanwhile, her mind was spinning. The Robin Hoyte hunter story had been a wild hunch, a complete shot in the dark, but now…
Holly could taste it. Like that well-water smell right before a rainstorm. This was the start of something big. She was onto something. Research, academic intellect—that was half the battle. But trusting her instincts would get her all the way.
She’d taken a step into the cafeteria and was immediately hit with the smell of day-old pizza and lemon-scented cleaning product. Nausea suddenly wound its way through her and clenched like a fist around her stomach. Before Holly knew it, she’d stumbled over to the nearest trashcan and hurled into it.
Ugh. A vile, grimy feeling crept up her bones, like gravel under her skin. Holly steadied herself, hands gripping the can, and spat into it, trying to collect her composure.
“Dr. Westmore? Are you okay?”
One of her students was kind enough, at least, to slow her pace and examine the older woman.
“I’ll be fine,” Holly said with a practiced smile. “Thank you.” The student left and Holly grabbed a napkin from the concessions table, wiping her mouth. It hit her then just how much she sounded like her husband. I’m fine, don’t worry about me, while something grew and lived and wreaked havoc inside of her. The difference between the two was, at the end of the day, Holly’s suffering would lead to a new life. Jacob’s would lead to death…or worse. The rest of his life trapped in the body of a bear.
And where would Holly be? Alone. Abandoned by the man she’d married for the second time in her life. Only this time, she wouldn’t be alone to take her grief out on term papers and bottles of wine. She would have to change diapers, clean up toys, and watch their child grow up all on her own.
She felt like she was going to be sick again. Pull yourself together. Holly staggered upright, took a breath, and tried to keep the contents of her stomach in order.
Holly survived the lunch line and managed to make it back to her office in one piece. In her paper bag, she carried two apples, a bagel, a muffin, and a banana, deciding that Trish had to like at least one of those things. She pushed through her office door and was surprised to see that Trish wasn’t alone. Instead, a boy in a crisp navy-blue shirt hovered behind her, his Ray-Ban sunglasses tucked into the neck of his shirt and grazing her shoulder. He murmured lowly to her and she giggled, a light, airy sound.
A chill swept through Holly. “Cayden,” she said curtly. Languidly, the cougar-shifter unwound from Trish and turned to face Holly instead. He leaned against her desk and folded his arms casually over his chest, cocky smirk planted on his face.
“Dr. Westmore,” he said. “We were just catching up…that’s not against the rules, is it?”
“Do you know each other?” Holly said, turning her attention back to Trish, abruptly ignoring Cayden. She dropped the paper bag on her desk and walked around to sit in her tall chair, resuming her position as the authority figure in the room. If she’d learned anything about animals (and she hoped she had, living on a ranch swarming with shifters), it was that they responded well to body language. She straightened her spine and lifted her chin minutely. Cayden—predictably, instinctively—cowered somewhat, hunching his tall frame down an inch. He’d—no doubt—learned to respond obediently to the presence of a Head Bitch in Charge.
“We grew up in the same circles,” Trish said vaguely. Holly had to wonder if there was some shifter clique roaming the halls. “It’s been a while, though.” And then, turning to Cayden: “Your mom kinda keeps you in your ivory tower, huh?”
“All you had to do was ask. I would’ve thrown down my hair.” Even when he spoke now, Cayden’s words came out low, like a purr. The toe of his shoe nudged Trish’s thigh playfully. “Who’d have thought you’d grow up so nicely?”
“We don’t live in a cave,” Trish said and rolled her eyes. When she turned away, however, Holly could see the peach blush glowing on the young girl’s cheeks. Cayden’s eyes, meanwhile, locked on Trish and shimmered gold.
Oh, hell no. Where was a spray bottle when she needed one?
“Was there something you needed, Cayden?” Holly said curtly.
“No, ma’am.” He hopped off the desk, but his eyes trailed behind. They caught on the article of Robin Hoyte and Holly saw a flicker of something—recognition?—in the boy’s eyes before he shrugged it off. “I think I’ve got all I’ve need.”
“I’ll come with you,” Trish said suddenly.
Holly’s eyebrows hiked up her forehead. Her eyes said, pointedly: Really?
Trish’s eyes caught on Holly’s and she shrugged once and then added to Cayden, “You can show me around…give me the tour.”
Trish’s fingers lingered on the printout and she discreetly folded it up in her palm, tucking it away in her pocket. It clicked with Holly—oh. Trish planned to do some recon. She had seen Cayden’s gaze linger on the article, too, and she was going to see how much he really knew about it.
She was clever, Holly had to give her that. And bold. Maybe too bold. She knew the way Cayden worked and the thought of him alone with Trish made Holly’s stomach twist up. Cassidy was going to kill her. “You don’t have to,” Holly said, her words heavy with meaning as she kept her eyes pinned on Trish. Let me take care of this.
“Relax, Dr. Westmore,” Cayden said and drew a large smile that showed off his teeth as he held the door open for Trish. “I’ll bring her back in one piece.”
“I can handle him,” Trish said and then smiled and shot Holly a playful wink.
That’s what I’m afraid of.
“Just be back before…” The door clicked and Cayden and Trish were gone. Just like that. “…Five.”
Holly’s desk was cluttered with assignments begging to be graded. Still, she stared at them and her vision felt unfocused with worry. She began to chew at the end of her pen. Unconsciously, her hand travelled down and cupped her stomach, as though she could already feel the small life growing inside of her.
You better not leave me, Jacob, she thought to herself. I can’t raise teenagers alone.
Chapter 54
“And you’re welcome.”
Holly’s eyes flickered up from her desk to see Trish standing over her, huge grin stamped over her face. Cocky. It ran in the Westmore family.
Still, Holly wasn’t impressed. “It’s nearly six,” she said pointedly. “I told you to be back at five.”
Holly heard her words echo back into her ears and decided she had this parenting thing down. Already, she was chastising a young girl who was out past her curfew. How much harder could it be?
“Yeah, sure,” Trish said (dismissive, but, Holly guessed, that was also something she’d have to get used to in eighteen years), “but check this out.”
Trish took the article out of her pants pocket and unfolded it, flattening it out on Holly’s desk with the balls of her palm. “So I showed this to Cayden and—”
“You showed it to him?” Holly couldn’t help the sharpness in her tone.
Trish’s eyes flashed up to meet with Holly’s and she tilted her head slightly, like a confused dog. “It’s okay. He’s not like his mom. Well. Not entirely. I mean, he puts on a good show. If you really get to know him…he’s…you know.” Trish tucked a strand of hair behind her ears. “Anyway.”
Oh, sweetheart, Holly thought. He’s playing you like a fiddle. But she knew saying anything would only push the young, determined cub closer to the fanged cougar, so Holly kept her lips buttoned. “So what did you find out?” she asked, gently prodding the conversation forward.
“Right. So this thing?” Trish stabbed her finger on the picture of Robin Hoyte, pointing to medallion around his neck. “It’s like…a hex gem. It can hold a power or a spell or a…”
“Or a curse,” Holly finished for her. In an instant, she knew. The moonlust, the
sickness that had infected Jacob’s father and was now eating its way through Jacob…it was no accident. Hunter Robin Hoyte had come to Etna to destroy the clan and this spell had been his ticket to do just that. After all, a clan without an Alpha was weak, vulnerable.
Clearly, he hadn’t counted on someone as strong as Jacob to take the helm. Nor had he counted on an Alpha’s mate as persistent and determined to get to the bottom of it as Holly was.
“Do you have any idea where we might find it?” Holly said, her heart hammering in her chest. If they could find the talisman and destroy it…that could be the end of this terrible moonlust. A normal life with her shifter husband. Imagine that.
“That’s the thing,” Trish said, rubbing the back of her neck. “Cayden said he’s seen it before. His mom—Miranda. She has it.”
Holly felt she’d swallowed a pound of dry ice. Miranda. Of course. They had finally discovered a medallion that—potentially—held the source of Jacob’s curse and, if destroyed, could possibly break it. And Miranda, of all people, had it. Prying it out of her claws would be nearly impossible.
As if she read Holly’s mind, Trish broke in excitedly, “Look…Cayden likes me. It’s that…macho animal thing. He thinks I’m a challenge or something. I don’t think he’s put two and two together and figured out the whole curse thing. If I can get him to get the talisman for me—”
“No,” Holly cut her off quickly. “You’ve done enough, Trish. You’ve done plenty. Thank you for this, but…I don’t want you any more involved that you already are.”
Disappointment that fell like a shadow across Trish’s face—the young girl was probably used to sitting on the sidelines. Still, as much as Holly wanted to nurture Trish’s bursting independence, she wasn’t about to get this girl involved in something potentially dangerous. Trish, maybe, was used to animals, shifters who fought with their teeth bared and claws extended, but as far as Holly was concerned, Cayden and Miranda were dangerous and she needed to stay as far away from them as possible.
“Yes, ma’am,” Trish grumbled.
Holly felt a sting of guilt, but what could she do? She’d already half-broken the rules by letting Trish tag along with her to campus. Best to nip this in the bud while she still could. Holly slung her bag over her shoulder and moved to the door, but not before she swooped an arm around Trish and gave her a small side-squeeze. “Come on,” Holly said, trying to lift the young girl’s spirits. “Let’s go make sure the ranch hasn’t burned down without us, huh?”
Trish linked her arm in the older woman’s, falling in line. Before they left, Holly snagged the printout and crumpled it in her hand, discreetly shoving it in her bag.
Chapter 55
The problem with ousting your backstabbing brother, Jacob thought, was that he was—after all—your brother and, sooner or later, you were going to run into him.
Brent, thankfully, had left with a whimper instead of a bang. After an uncomfortable clan meeting during which Jacob had informed everyone that Brent was banned from the ranch, Brent had packed his things and, days later, his place was empty. Still a shit heap; Jacob half-wondered if they’d have to get men in hazmat suits to come clean the empty beer bottles and dirty dishes and yellow cigarette-stained wallpaper, but Brent was gone. The rest of the clan had to pick up the slack to cover his duties (which were extensive), Jacob’s house calls were quiet, and family gatherings were just a little less fun.
But he’d made the right choice, Jacob told himself. Brent had thrown him into a setup and left him to fend for himself against a couple of cougars. He’d nearly killed Jacob. And he had to be punished for it.
Of course, it was only a matter of time before Brent showed up again. Jacob had returned from his job with Cassidy (Holly wasn’t home yet—strange) and was washing the day off of him when his phone buzzed with a text, vibrating loudly on the fiberglass sink.
[SMS: Cassidy] Lighting the fire pit up 2nite, u in?
Towel loose around his hips, Jacob poked out the words (I’ll be there) into his phone and sent the message. He felt a little better with the dirt and grime of his work day off of him, felt a little more human.
(Human. That was the important part.)
And where was Holly—?
He’d feel it if she were in trouble, he reasoned with himself. The mark worked both ways. Her scar would burn if something was wrong with him, and he would feel it, instinctually, in the pit of his stomach, if something was wrong with her. That was the bond that connected them, invisible but, in a very real way, there. Internally, he felt quiet, no warning beacons going off with regard to Holly. She wasn’t in trouble; she was just late.
Of course, it’d been a long time since he’d transformed. A long time since he’d gotten in touch with the animal side of him. His instincts were rusty, underused. It was possible that side of him was closing over, healing like an old wound. And—if he was being honest with himself—there was a part of him that missed the simplicity of the animal, part of him that wanted to scratch it open again and release the Beast.
No. He knew better than that. That was just an old nagging. Like quitting smoking. He needed a bear-patch. Jacob dressed, casual slacks, comfortable cotton shirt that felt soft against his skin, and his well-loved denim jacket. Worn out, Cassidy called it. As far as Jacob was concerned, clothes didn’t feel right until you’d bruised them up a little. Once dressed, he pushed out the front door. A red moon peaked out from behind the mountain before it disappeared completely and Jacob stuck an e-cig between his teeth. He followed the electronic light in front of his nose and walked towards Cassidy’s place.
Holly would meet him there, he figured. Couldn’t miss the blazing bonfire outside, surrounded by family, fellow ranch hands, and a couple honeypots.
Sure enough, as soon as he got close enough, he heard the familiar purr of her little Buggy bumping up the road. It grew louder and he waved it down. The Buggy came to a glugging stop outside of Cassidy’s place and Jacob caught up with it just in time to open up the passenger side. Trish spilled out and chirped a thank you before scampering off. Jacob just managed to grab a strand of her long hair and gave it a little tug as she zipped off (sure, maybe she was eighteen on paper, but to him, she’d always be somewhere around eight or nine). Trish let out a small yap of surprise, then shot him a quit it look, which just made him chuckle. “Hello to you too,” he said.
She flattened her hair back and said, “Hey, boss. How’re you?”
Now it was Jacob’s turn to look amused. “Just fine. Thanks for asking. Go on, now.”
Relieved, Trish ran off to join her brother beside the campfire. Jacob shook her head, small smirk playing on his lips. Kids. Didn’t know a thing about manners these days, it seemed.
Holly stepped out of the car and Jacob’s heart warmed at the sight of her. His day felt long, suddenly, and he felt all the empty spaces without her finally catch up with him. He hooked his hand around her side, pulling her in, and murmured, “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said right back. Her lips were full, red, and he felt hypnotized by their softness when he went in for a kiss. There was some distance between them—he could feel it, as though it were a physical thing—but in that moment she whimpered quietly into his mouth and her fingers curled around his shoulders, clinging to him, and, yeah. That was good.
“You want to skip the fire and head home?” Holly said, her fingers still locked on the lapels of his jacket. Even in her sweet, innocent face, there was this hint of wickedness that danced in her eyes and that made his pulse throb just a little south. “We could light up our own fireplace…talk…” The word dropped from her tongue like it was heavy. It was tempting; he had to give her that.
“We’re already here. One drink,” he said, tilting his head back at the bonfire.
Holly bit her lip briefly as though buttoning back a protest, but then she nodded. “Okay.” Hell, those lips, so plump and kissable, his Beast roared in his belly. He had half a mind to push her up against the hood
of her car and kiss her and kiss her and never leave her lips, not until dawn blushed over the mountaintops.
Instead, he took her hand. Wrapped her fingers up in his and led her to the bonfire. As they got closer, he could smell the musky burned wood, sticky sweet marshmallows, and…another scent. Sharp whiskey and hand-rolled cigarettes.
The hair on the back of his neck went on end.
“He’s my guest,” Cassidy said defensively before Jacob could so much as open his mouth. “So don’t even think about kicking him out.”
Brent sat on one of the horizontal logs. Stetson hat all but covering his face. The tip of his cigarette lit up briefly from under the rim.
Jacob shot Cassidy a stern, we’ll talk about this later look. “Mmhm,” was all he said, and then he turned his back on Brent—hangdog in the red glow of the fire—and warmly greeted the rest of the clan. Jacob and Holly settled down and a honeypot came around with beers for them. Jacob cracked open his. He made note of the fact that everyone was giving Brent a wide berth. Even the honeypots stayed away (good girls). Cassidy was the only one side-by-side with him…why did she have to make everything difficult?
“No, thank you,” Holly said, waving away her beer as she turned back to the fire instead.
“You want me to get you some wine?” Jacob asked her. Holly smiled nicely and shook her head. She’d been distant lately, he could feel it, but he decided not to push it. She’d bounce back like a rubber band. He moved his hand to the small of her back and stroked anyway; she leaned into it. That was a good sign, he decided.
“We were just taking mountain gossip,” Cassidy said, breaking the blanket of silence that came with the Alpha’s presence. “Brent says it smells like the Davos clan might be using our territory again.”
Our territory. Jacob gritted his teeth. Westmore territory. Not Brent’s. Not anymore. He had no one but himself to blame for that.