Knowing Claire (The Possessed Series Book 1)

by Tressa Rabbit

  “I never knew it could be like this.” She stared up at him with complete trust shining from her eyes. He would make it good for her if it killed him.

  Jaxon removed his hand from between their bodies and laced their fingers together, bringing them above her head. He nipped her chin. “Do you know what you feel like to me, Claire?”

  “Tell me,” she whispered.

  “Heaven. So soft and wet.” He bared his teeth as he withdrew from her tight warmth and penetrated her again.

  Jaxon could listen to the sounds Claire made for the rest of his unnatural life. To think he was the one to bring her so much pleasure filled him with such a powerful rush, he almost came right then. She belonged to him, and not just for one or two nights of lust, he thought with a roll of his pelvis against hers. Forever.

  “Mine.” Had he said that aloud? He did, but he didn’t care.

  Something flickered in her gaze. “Don’t hold back.”

  He needed no further encouragement. Every pore he had opened to her. His senses came to life with every touch, every smell and sound she made, pushing him closer to the edge.

  His gums began to itch with the thought of sinking his teeth into the fleshy part of her neck. He couldn’t, of course. Not yet.

  He nuzzled her head to the side and buried his face against her shoulder. Her fragrance was light with a hint of flowers. His sex grew harder, if that were possible.

  “Jaxon. It’s happening again.” She gasped in wonder.

  That had to have been the sweetest fucking confession he’d ever heard. “Go with it, love. Feel me stretching you, loving you. Ride it with me. I’m right there with you.”

  She began to contract around him, and Jaxon lost his mind. He could barely move inside her, she squeezed him so tight. A hoarse shout burst from his chest as his seed left his body in a rush of climatic spasms that came from his very soul.

  Chapter Ten

  Claire lay limp in a haze of pleasure, listening to Jaxon’s choppy breathing. The euphoria she’d experienced at his hands cradled her in a blanket of love, belonging…of home.

  Tears of heartache burned behind her eyes with the knowledge of where they stood. He could never know the depths of her feelings for him. But she would hold him in her heart for as long as she lived.

  “Are you okay?” He stirred above her.

  “Better than okay. That was more than I ever dreamed it would be.”

  Jaxon lifted his head, propping up on his elbows to hold his weight off her. “How is it possible that you have never been with a man? Not that I’m complaining. On the contrary, I’m honored.”

  He smiled down at her with the truth shining in his eyes, and she knew in that moment, she’d never give herself to anyone else.

  She opened her mouth to tell him she’d saved herself for him, and the sound of his father’s voice weaved its way through her mind. “You will stay away from my son, Claire Bryson. His life will forever be under scrutiny, and your family’s name isn’t the best in this town. Everyone knows what your mother was. You will ruin him.”

  Growing up, Claire had heard the stories about her mother. Sarina had been married before meeting Charles Bryson and had spent time in prison for drug-related charges by taking the rap for her husband, Mack Doyle. Mack divorced her while she’d been incarcerated, and he’d eventually left the state only to end up serving life without parole for the murder of a man in Georgia.

  It wasn’t a pretty story, but Sarina had been innocent of the charges and soon after being released, met and married Charles. Claire’s father had loved his wife until the day he died, and Claire had never known a kinder soul than Sarina. But Jaxon’s dad was right, she thought with a pang of guilt. It would ruin Jaxon’s chances of running for office.

  She cleared her throat, trying like hell not to break down in front of him. With a heart full of resolve, she leaned up and kissed his lips. “I was just so busy and never really met anyone I trusted. It’s a simple as that.”

  Hurt shown briefly in his eyes, but he quickly masked it. “I see. I’m glad it was me, Claire. Words can’t describe what I’m feeling right now. I would have never dreamed…”

  He trailed off, and Claire took advantage of the reprieve before she burst into tears and admitted her love for him.

  “I’m glad it was you too, Jaxon. Now I need to take a shower. I have to open Scruples.” She gave a small smile and a gentle push, signaling she wanted up.

  He rolled to the side, freeing her from his warm prison. “Call in sick.”

  Claire laughed. “The locals would crucify me. I bet Adele, Sadie, and Madge are sitting out front smoking as we speak, waiting on the doors to open.” She stood and shimmied into her shorts, holding the pajama top against her breast as best she could. A blush crept up her neck as his gaze raked down her body. She turned on her heel and fled the room.

  * * * *

  Jaxon watched Claire dart from the room holding that damn piece of clothing in front of her to protect her modesty. She had no idea how beautiful she was to him. Perfection, he decided with a groan, throwing an arm across his face. And she belonged to him no matter what she had in her mind. He felt it in his heart. Hell, his soul knew it.

  The look in her eyes when he’d asked her about being untouched wasn’t lost on him. Had she given herself to him because of buried feelings, or did it have something to do with her near-death experience? He was inclined to believe she cared about him. He’d felt it in her touch, the way she’d come apart in his arms.

  He’d nearly lost her tonight. The image of her terror would forever be burned into his brain like a recurring nightmare, tormenting him for the rest of his life.

  A brush of his fingers across his shoulder told him the wound had healed, but he left the bandage on. The last thing he wanted was to have to fumble around with some kind of pathetic lie after what they’d just shared.

  Jaxon swung his long legs over the edge of the bed. He needed to split the scene before Claire emerged from her shower and realized he’d lied about his clothes. Or worse, she might want to check his injuries. He’d be driving home in the nude, he surmised with a cringe, looking around for something to wrap around him for the ten-minute drive to his place.

  His gaze landed on the bedsheets they’d just made love on, and he noticed a small smear of blood. His stomach flipped, his heart clenched, and he dropped to his knees beside the bed. With an unsteady hand, he laid his palm over the evidence of the incredible gift she’d given him, and bowed his head.

  “Aliheligi,” he murmured. The old Cherokee word for “grateful” had never felt more right than it did in this moment.

  Chapter Eleven

  Claire pulled up in front of Scruples with only minutes to spare. Adele, Sadie, and Madge sat around a small wrought-iron table, smoking and cackling as they usually did before the doors opened. You could set your watch by the sisters. They were always ten minutes early, wearing outrageous hats, and usually had a couple of cats lounging around next to their feet.

  The three women lived on the lake yard in a massive, two-story home that had been in their family since 1892. They’d never married, and rumor had it they were witches. But rumors, being what they were, circulated as an unverified account and had plagued the small town since the first building had been erected well over a hundred years before.

  Cool, crisp air lifted Claire’s hair as she stepped out of her car and waved to the trio. “Good day, ladies. Who’s ready for some coffee?”

  “I was born ready,” Sadie piped in as she slowly got to her feet.

  Claire unlocked the front door, holding it wide for the group to enter ahead of her. The cats stayed outside as they usually did. Claire had never seen cats as strange as the Murphy sisters’ pets. Well, other than Pyscho. But come to think of it, he’d come from the Murphys also, Claire mused.

  When everyone cleared the door, Claire began flipping on lights. “I’ll have the coffee ready momentarily. Make yourselves comfortable.”

/>   She knew they would sit at the bar as they did every day, drinking two pots of caffeine before ordering lunch. Some things never changed, she contemplated with a smile on her way to the kitchen.

  The familiar sounds of the Murphy sisters’ laughter soothed Claire’s anxiety over what had happened with Jaxon a few hours before. This, she could handle. This, she knew. This was her life, her home. Jaxon was a dream she could never have, and the sooner she got that through her head the better off everyone would be.

  Claire busied herself with the coffeepot, replaying the morning’s events over and over in her mind. Jaxon’s gentleness, his scent, the feel of his hands on her body, his kiss, his injuries played through her memory like a mantra. She could still feel him inside her body and would for several days, she assumed. And that was okay. He’d still be making love to her now if she had her way.

  “Coming through,” Bradley announced, squeezing behind her on his way to the stove.

  “Shit. You scared me.” She’d been so lost in thought she hadn’t heard him come in.

  “Daydreaming will get you burned, Miss Claire.” He wriggled his eyebrows and grinned.

  Bradley had been with Scruples for years, and Claire loved him dearly. He managed the kitchen with an iron fist, handling everything from preparing the food to ordering the supplies. He was irreplaceable, and Claire would be lost without him.

  “I didn’t get much sleep last night. I’m just tired and cranky, so consider yourself warned.” She winked and finished her chore of making coffee for the lunch crowd that would begin appearing any minute.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket, signaling the arrival of a text message. She fished out her cell and swiped her thumb across the screen. Thinking of you. Hope to see you tonight.

  Claire hesitated. She wanted to see Jaxon more than anything, but inviting him back would be asking for trouble. The longer she spent in his arms, the harder it would be when he had to move on and marry another. She didn’t think her heart could take that.

  With her mind made up, she responded. See you at seven.

  If she lived to be a hundred, she’d never understand why she sent that text. Her intentions had been good, but her heart overrode her brain and something got crossed up on the way to her fingers. Bloody hell.

  Bradley muttered something over the banging of pots and pans. But Claire wasn’t listening. He tossed a dish towel in her direction.

  “I’m sorry, what?” She put her phone away and faced her chef.

  “I asked if you had a date last night.”

  A blush spread up her neck to burn her cheeks. “No, just had some friends over.”

  “Uh huh.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” But she knew. She never could lie very well and especially not to Bradley. He was originally from New Orleans, and she’d heard he was a descendent of a Voodoo Queen. Although, that was probably something else that had found its way down the rumor line, she suspected.

  “Don’t mean a thing. The coffee’s ready. You better hurry before those three biddies start picketing the place.” He chuckled and went back to turning the bacon.

  “Not nice,” she scolded with a grin and rushed to fill three cups to the brim for said biddies.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jaxon drove home in a daze with one of Claire’s blankets thrown across his lap. The reality of last night’s events came crashing through in flashes of painstaking memory. Why would a Shifter be snooping around Claire’s place? Jaxon didn’t think it had anything to do with him, or the rogue would have slinked off before drawing Claire’s notice. The guy sure as hell wouldn’t have tried to attack her.

  Whoever it was had to have known Jaxon was there. The big, black truck parked in her drive couldn’t possibly be missed. It stuck out like a Klingon at a Star Wars convention.

  No, a Shifter looking for Jaxon would have broken into his home while he slept or showered. He wouldn’t have risked being seen by Claire or Victoria. Human attention was the last thing his kind wanted or needed.

  Jaxon pulled into his driveway and switched off the truck. Kojak and Alabama were still on the porch where he’d left them. He wrapped the blanket around his waist and jumped to the ground. “At ease.”

  Both animals bounded off the porch, skidding to a stop at his feet. They took turns bumping into his legs in a search for attention, and Jaxon gave them equal amounts of scratching and praise. “Anyone come slipping around here while I was gone?”

  The tail wagging and happy dances answered his question.”I didn’t think so.”

  He gripped the edges of the blanket and sauntered up the steps with as much dignity as the makeshift clothing would allow.

  Once inside, Jaxon took a quick shower. He hated to wash Claire’s scent from his body, but he needed to pay his father a visit to discuss the rogue, and Alfred had a keen sense of smell. Not that Jaxon wanted to hide Claire from his dad; it was more out of respect for her privacy.

  Jaxon knew his father was aware of his son’s feelings for Claire. Jaxon also knew that Alfred didn’t approve of her. The two of them had argued over it for years. Claire couldn’t help what her mother had been or done, and none of that mattered to Jaxon. If it came down to a choice between his career and the love of his life, he’d choose Claire in a heartbeat.

  * * * *

  The city of Defuniak Springs was alive with activity when Jaxon pulled into the parking lot of Sanders Hardware Store. His father’s car was parked in its usual spot, pristine and ridiculously expensive. Jaxon hadn’t inherited Alfred’s flare for flash or his greed. He’d taken after his mother in nearly every aspect of his life. He loved the country, loved people, and never judged.

  Alfred wasn’t a bad sort; he’d just allowed his ambitions to supersede his good sense most of the time. The end result was a big, empty house full of expensive art, antiques, and a lonely wife.

  Jaxon switched off his truck and made his way inside, stopping to speak to several employees before heading off to the office in back. Random customers smiled and spoke as they milled around in search of parts for the day’s project. Life, Jaxon suspected, was far easier outside a Shifter’s realm. He almost envied them their normalcy.

  He tapped on the office door before pushing it open. Alfred sat behind a big oak desk with a phone stuck to his ear. He wrote something on a piece of paper and motioned for Jaxon to enter without looking up. His father didn’t need to see who’d darkened the door to know who it was; he no doubt smelled Jaxon the second he exited his truck.

  Jaxon took a seat and propped his booted foot over the opposite knee, prepared to wait. His father was a people person and could talk a turtle out of his shell.

  Alfred was a big man, approximately six feet four inches tall with salt and pepper hair. He stayed in shape, dressed with care, and handled his business with the efficiency of a general.

  “What brings you here, son?” He replaced the phone and smiled. “I thought you were taking the week off.”

  “Someone tried to kill me last night.”

  “What?” Alfred jumped to his feet with a stunned look on his face. “Who?”

  “A Shifter. I don’t know who he was. I’ve never scented him before.”

  “Tell me everything.”

  Jaxon recited the night’s events, careful to leave out what had transpired after the attack. “He had to have been after Claire or Victoria.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  Something in his father’s voice sounded off or preoccupied. Jaxon wasn’t sure which. He brushed it aside and continued. “He went after Claire. But he had to know I was there. My truck was in the drive.”

  “Was she hurt?” Alfred dropped heavily into his chair.

  “No, but she would have been if I hadn’t been there.” Jaxon could still see the terror in her eyes.

  “How did you handle it?”

  “I had no choice but to shift, or he would have killed her.”

  “Damn it, Jaxon. Did she see you?” Alfre
d’s face had taken on a red hue, leaving no doubt that his blood pressure was through the roof.

  “Of course not. But she did see the wolves, and we’ll be lucky if she doesn’t report it. We sure as hell don’t need the authorities involved or hunters combing the woods.”

  “Make sure she doesn’t make that call.”

  “I’m more concerned with a rogue in our territory and what he wants with Claire.” Jaxon’s gums tingled with the thought.

  “I’ll make some calls; see what I can find out. I told you to stay away from her, son. She’s bad news.”

  That pissed Jaxon off more. “I won’t have my personal life dictated by you or anyone else. It’s no secret how you feel about Claire, and you can get over it or go to hell. The choice is yours.”

  “You forget yourself.” Alfred stood and planted his hands on the desktop.

  Jaxon slowly got to his feet to face his father. “It’s you who forgets. I never asked for this.” He sliced his hand through the air, indicating the pictures, plaques, and certificates hanging on the walls. “This is your dream, not mine. I love this town, the family business, and you, Dad. But I want Claire even more, and if you can’t handle that, then I resign.” He turned to go.

  “Damn it, son, wait.”

  Jaxon stopped without looking back.

  “I’m sorry. I’ll see what I can find out about the trespasser. Make sure Claire keeps the incident under her hat.”

  Jaxon opened the door before glancing back. “She will.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Claire took a deep breath and glanced around. Scruples was bustling with people rushing to get lunch before the business crowd descended. The tinkering of silverware scraping against plates, ice clicking around in glasses, and a low murmur of conversations echoed off the walls, creating a soothing effect for Claire.

  She dried her hands on a towel hanging from her waist and approached the bar. The Murphy sisters occupied three of the stools, sipping sweet tea.