by Bella Jacobs
I shift my arm, taking her hand in mine, but I don’t say a word. Danger is part of the job description for a Fata Morgana and her allies in Atlas’s world.
But it’s a chance we’re ready to take, whatever we have to do to rip that sick bastard off his throne.
Chapter 11
Wren
“I would say the shit couldn’t get any deeper, but I don’t want to jinx us more than we’re jinxed already.” Creedence leans back against the filthy beige camper he somehow managed to talk the owner of the motel into signing over to us in exchange for our Mustang.
It’s a clunker, but Dust assured us the engine was sound before we made the trade.
The Beige—or Da Beige, as Creedence has christened the monstrosity—will get us to the border and anywhere we need to stop in between.
Where to next, of course, is the current subject of debate among the four men in my life. Dust says we should head east—better to hide out somewhere closer to our eventual crossing point until we’re ready to make the journey. Luke says south—our enemies won’t expect that—and Kite says west because they really won’t expect that.
Creedence is the only one keeping his opinion to himself.
“What about you?” I ask, hoping he’ll break the tie. “East, west, or south?”
“I’m a north guy myself.”
I glare at him, but he only laughs in response.
“It’s your call, Slim. You’ve got as good a gut as the rest of us.”
I twist a lock of damp hair around my finger—we’re all grabbing lightning fast showers before we head out in a rig with nothing but a spigot on the wall above the camper’s toilet. “I don’t know. I’m so worried about Carrie Ann I can’t think straight. We need to get her on a plane. Yesterday.” I’m glad we voted unanimously to take both Carrie Ann and Sierra with us, but Carrie isn’t in any condition for a road trip. She needs to be in a hospital under twenty-four-hour observation, with access to cutting-edge immune therapies to put the virus into remission before it’s too late.
But of course, that’s a risk we can’t take.
Infecting my best friend with the virus I was told I had for years and dumping her near-lifeless body in our alleged “safe house” was clearly intended as a message for me. A message and a threat—we know where you are, we know where you’re going, and we won’t hesitate to hurt the people you love on our way through them to you.
“I know it looks bad, but she’s holding up okay,” Creedence says. “She’s got time, even without serious meds. She’s a tough kid, that one. A fighter.”
“She is. I just wish she didn’t have to be so tough. And I wish I knew my parents were all right,” I say, forcing the words out through my tight throat. “If whoever did this to Carrie Ann gets to them…”
Creedence rests a hand at the small of my back. “I’ll see what I can find out about your parents.”
I tilt my head, peering at him from the corners of my eyes. “How? Dust says we can’t risk contacting anyone in Seattle.”
“I have my ways,” he says with a wink. “Trust me?”
“Of course.”
“Good,” he says, his expression sobering as he adds. “But be careful with your fight coach, okay? Hit the pause button on that trusting nature of yours until we’re sure his story checks out.”
I narrow my eyes, wishing I could read Creedence as well as he reads me. “What’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Those ways I was telling you about,” he says softly. “I’ve got a few feelers out with people in the San Diego area. So far no one’s been able to pinpoint Luke’s family’s pack of origin.”
“And?” I ask, wishing I’d had the time to take a Shifter Culture 101 class before being thrust into the middle of it.
“Pack of origin is sacred to wolves. They live and die by their allegiance to their birth alpha and the greater good of the wolf nation. They can marry into a new pack or be recruited as foot soldiers by their allies, but unlike my people, who live to fight and tell each other to fuck off, they don’t just go wandering off on their own.” He holds my gaze with an intensity that makes it clear how deep his suspicions run where Luke is concerned. “The pack is life. The only way you end up a lone wolf family is if you’ve been banished. Kicked out for crimes against your kin.”
“I’m guessing crimes more serious than shoplifting?”
Creedence’s brows bob. “Yep. Could have been his mom or pop who got the family in trouble. But it could have been Luke or one of his siblings, too. He’s got a few more than he’s been claiming in that backstory of his about his poor dead brother.”
“Losing his brother was painful for him. I believe that part is real, but…” I trail off with a sigh, lids sliding closed as I rub the backs of my aching eyes “But the lies are troubling. Are his parents and siblings still alive?”
“The parents, no. But he’s got an older half-brother who lives in Mexico, and an older half-sister somewhere in SoCal. That’s where my sources are focusing, seeing if they can get Sister Dearest to give up the goods. I’ll let you know what they dig up.”
“Sounds good.” I glance up at the door to the hotel room to find it closed and Dust, Luke, and the two women still inside. Kite went with Leda to get supplies in town—medicine for Carrie Ann, food for the trip, and clean sheets to put on the mattresses in the camper. Even with clean sheets, I’m not looking forward to sleeping in the cramped hidey-hole at the back of Da Beige, but no one said being on the run was going to be a five-star affair.
And I’m so damned tired.
So tired it takes my brain a few beats to connect Creedence’s concern to its likely source. “Did you see something when you were casting forward yesterday? Something in the future that has you doubting Luke?”
After a hint of hesitation, Creedence shakes his head. “No. Not really.”
“Not really. What does that mean?” I press.
He laughs beneath his breath. “It means I learned a long time ago not to share everything I see, doll face. Worrying about a dozen things that are never going to happen is a good way to make people crazy, and I prefer to keep the crazy to myself.”
“You’re not crazy.”
Pushing away from the camper, he spins in a swift half circle, bracing his hands on the dusty metal on either side of my face as he leans in close. “Maybe I’m just the kind of crazy you like. Admit it, Slim, you’re still thinking about that kiss last night. I know I am.”
Pulse picking up, I meet his gaze. “Maybe.”
His full lips curve into a wicked grin that sends heat racing across my skin. “Maybe? That’s all I get? A maybe?”
“Maybe I want more than chemistry. Maybe I want to know you, Cree. The real you. Not just the charming parts.”
“You shouldn’t look down your nose on chemistry and charm, sweetheart. I promise you, fireworks like this don’t happen every day.” And then he kisses me, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, stroking against mine as his right hand slides down to cup my bottom through my leggings, drawing me against him.
I gasp into his mouth as I feel the hard length of him nudging between my legs, making it clear what he wants from me. Instinctively, I wrap a leg around his waist, keeping that long, thick part of him close as our kiss grows hotter, deeper.
Sex is still so new to me, and when I’m alone with Kite, a voice in my head insists he should be the only man in my bed. But when Creedence touches me like this, I forget all about that voice. I forget that, according to the Church, only “bad girls” sleep with more than one man before they’re married. And only a truly depraved hussy would consider sleeping with more than one man on a regular basis.
Let alone more than one man at the same time…
But I would be a liar if I said the idea doesn’t excite me, that it doesn’t make me wet to imagine Kite behind me, stripping my leggings down my thighs as Creedence slips his hand up my shirt for the first time.
Creedence tugs my bra down
, finding my nipple and rolling it with an easy confidence that takes my breath away. His skin is warm against mine and his erection is hard between my thighs and his kiss is like too much wine—something I’ll probably regret later, but that feels too good going down to care.
“I want you on top of me, Slim,” he growls against my lips as his grip tightens on my ass, urging me to rock against him through our clothes. “I want to suck these pretty tits while you come for me. We can keep it casual. No need to rush into a mate bond or any of that crazy.”
The words penetrate the haze of lust swirling through my head. “What?” I pull back, heart jerking as I meet his gaze and see the hunger obvious in his eyes. “I thought… Kite said once we slept together there was no going back. We’d be bonded for life.”
Creedence gives an indulgent roll of his eyes. “Yeah, that’s bears for you, baby. They’ll fuck any feline or canine shifter that moves and say it’s all just for fun. But the second they get naked with another bear, it’s for life. Guess Kite considers you bear enough for him.”
He pinches my nipple again, sending another shudder of desire working through me, making my voice tremble as I say, “But I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me we could wait to make that decision.”
“You probably couldn’t. You love him, and he loves you. Love plus sex equals mate bond, no going back on that. Though, you do get to choose when you get knocked up.” Creedence stops teasing my nipple, making it easier to think as he asks in a tighter voice, “Kite did tell you about that right? Made sure you knew not to think about babies while he’s getting you off? I mean, kids are great and all, but the last thing we need right now is baby makes six.”
I nod, cheeks heating. “He told me that. But I… I feel so stupid. About the mate bond. I feel like I never know what the hell is going on until after it’s already happened. Like I’ll never find my footing. I’m always going to be ten steps behind playing catch up.”
“Nah, don’t do that. Don’t feel bad, I want you to feel good.” His mouth finds mine again, kissing me lazy, sexy sweet until my muscles relax and my blood thickens. “And I’ll teach you all about cats, beautiful,” he murmurs. “Everything you need to know, starting with what amazing fuck buddies we can be.”
I huff in soft laughter, a sound that becomes a moan as Cree hitches my legs around his waist and pins me against the side of the camper, bringing all that delicious hardness into even more intimate contact with where I’m aching for every inch.
“I can make you come without making you mine,” he says, grinding against me through our clothes while I cling to his shoulders. “It’s all about intention, sweetheart. Until love enters the picture, sex is just sex. Just a good time, a release, a way for us both to let off steam.” He leans in, nipping my neck with his teeth as he adds softly in my ear, “I’m dying to be inside you, Slim, and I know you want this, too. I can smell you, baby, how wet you are for me. I can’t fucking wait to get my tongue between your legs and show you what a grown man can do to your body.”
I’m so turned on I’m about to tell him “yes,” to beg him to take me—here against the side of the camper with nothing but the dumpsters to conceal us from the rest of the parking lot and half the rooms on the second floor—when someone clears his throat.
Loudly.
And I’m guessing not for the first time.
I emerge from the lust fog to see Dust standing by the concrete block wall surrounding the industrial trash containers. Unlocking my legs from around Creedence’s waist, I slide to the ground, hastily pulling at my clothes, wondering what the hell is wrong with me.
When did I become a sex fiend, and how long until I’m back in my right mind?
Never, the no-bullshit voice in my head pipes up. Not with men like this around. Say goodbye to your right mind and dry panties while you’re at it.
I frown at the thought even as I hurry to apologize for wasting time making out when I should be helping get the camper cleaned and loaded, “Sorry, we were—”
“No, I’m sorry to interrupt,” Dust cuts in, a faint pink to his cheeks. “But there’s a problem. With Carrie Ann. You’ve got to see this. Now.” He turns, hurrying back toward the hotel.
With one last glance at Creedence who assures me, “Right behind you,” I jog after Dust, praying this latest crisis isn’t the straw that breaks our collective backs.
Chapter 12
Carrie Ann
I don’t know much, but I know I love you…
Scraps of a nearly forgotten song drift through my head, warming my heart.
Tiny heart, beating so fast, but so strong.
Take that, Doc, you piece of fucking shit. I’m not supposed to be able to shift without a cue from a handler, but I did. I did and right now I’m feeling six inches tall and bulletproof.
It’s the claws. And the tail. I’ve got a magnificent tail, perfect for tucking under my head as I catch my breath, sinking into a puddle of reddish-brown fluff on the faded flower comforter.
Another thing about claws and tails—they suck at placing phone calls. And even if I managed to punch out the numbers, Dr. Highborn doesn’t speak squirrel.
I smile and the man with the dark eyes and silky black hair past his shoulders smiles back at me from the end of the bed. I can’t remember his name, but he’s familiar now. The longer I can stay in my kin form, the faster I’ll be able to fight off the virus, and the sooner my memories will return.
And I need them back. Desperately.
I feel that truth in my bones, even though I can’t yet remember why.
The door opens, and the man with the accent, Dust, returns, nodding toward me. “There. On the bed.”
“Oh my God.” A young woman with big blue eyes and brown hair wild around her flushed face comes to a stop behind him, sending a thrill through me. She’s a friend. I know it instantly, though I don’t recall how we met or who she is to me. She blinks, shock blanking her features for a moment before she lifts a wary brow. “Carrie?”
Yes, that much I remember. My name. I lift a claw—the universal sign for “Here, teacher,”—before letting it fall again, still so weak that even small movements make my head spin.
“Did you know she was a shifter?” Dust asks.
“No idea.” The woman shakes her head, her gaze still fixed on me. “Not even after I got off the meds. She doesn’t smell like kin, does she? Is that because her animal form’s so small or—”
“It’s because she was made in a lab. Not too long ago, I’m guessing, after the mad scientists learned how to adjust for scent to help their shifters go unnoticed by the rest of us.” The golden-haired man from last night studies me with kind but wary eyes as he crouches beside the bed. “Someone did this to her. She wasn’t born this way.”
“Highborn,” the woman says, sending my arm shooting into the air again. Ding, ding, now they’re on the right track.
She kneels, bringing her gaze level with mine. “How long? How long have you been able to shift?”
I shake my head, rolling it back and forth across the pillow of my own tail.
“You can’t remember?” she asks.
I shake my head again, even slower this time. I’m so tired, so heavy, even in this body, with its enhanced capacity to heal.
The woman’s breath rushes out. “It’s okay, Carrie. We’re going to help you. I promise. But we might have to take certain…precautions until we know exactly what’s going on.”
I bring my front paws together, crossed at the wrists, summoning a sad smile to the young woman’s lips as she says, “Yeah. We need some kind of restraints. But we’ll do our best to make you comfortable.”
“Looks like you’re headed back to town, Kite,” Golden Boy says as he stands. “They had rabbit cages and drink dispensers at the hardware store. Right near the backyard chicken supplies.”
The man with the long black hair nods but doesn’t rise to his feet or shift his focus away from me. “I’ll head back now, but the rest of you
need to talk to Leda. She’s on the phone by her car. A call came in from the team assisting with the investigation. Sounds like they found something we should know about before we decide to take one of Highborn’s creations on a road trip.” His mouth softens. “Sorry, Carrie Ann. It isn’t personal. Not even a little bit.”
I sigh. Maybe it would be for the best for me to stay here, though I have no idea if my species is indigenous to the area.
Before I can think of how to communicate my willingness to stay behind, the woman shakes her head. “No. We can’t leave her. She’s like family to me, and you don’t leave family behind. Even when things get complicated. We’ll find a way to make it work, Carrie Ann. Get some rest. We’ll be back.”
Rising to her feet with a strength and ease I instinctively know isn’t the norm for this woman, she starts for the door. “Let’s talk to Leda.”
After a beat, the three men follow her out into the sunny day, one by one, with the Englishman bringing up the rear.
He pauses in the doorway, turning back to me with a sober expression. He holds my gaze for a moment, before he slowly, deliberately releases the handle, leaving the door cracked a few inches as he trails after his friends.
The invitation is clear, and for a moment I can see myself rising to my feet, bounding off the bed and slipping out into the warm summer day.
But my head is so heavy and my eyes even heavier, and before I know it, they’re sliding closed.
It’s okay to sleep, I decide.
These people aren’t stupid. Whether they decide to take me or leave me, they’ve got a shot. A chance. A good chance, I think, especially if I can stay small and furry until I remember why my human form is so dangerous.
Though, what human form isn’t?