by Keri Hudson
“And you,” Caleb growled, “you have to have me… me and only me.”
“Yes.”
“I’m the one you’ve been waiting for, you knew it from the first!”
“Yes!”
“The only one, Abigail! It’s you and only you… and me… and only me!”
“Yes, yes, yeeeesssss!”
In a quick and smooth motion, Caleb’s strong arms manipulated Abigail’s slender, curvaceous body over without ever losing his purchase inside of her. Abigail gasped with the move, clearly shocked but clenching down and holding on. Her own instincts proved to Caleb that she was up to the occasion, rising to it just as Caleb did.
Both had further to go.
Caleb was on his knees behind Abigail, also on her hands and knees on the mattress. Caleb slammed harder, shaking his hips to maximize the power of their mutual contact and conflict. He grabbed locks of Abigail’s red curls, pulling them back with wondrous strain on her roots, muscles of her back clenching, eyes rolling up. He pumped as hard as he could take, a grunted scream strangled in her throat.
Caleb drove into Abigail deep, her back arching, her hips rolling in front of him. His presence was surrounding her, he knew that—from behind, within, without, and beyond. He was hers, every inch and every breath.
Caleb slapped her ass hard, that perfect sphere of smooth, firm flesh in his palm. She screamed with the strike, his squeeze driving his fingers into that round cheek. A second strike seemed to delight her even more.
Abigail gasped, body wriggling and head pulled back with just the perfect amount of pressure. A third slap seemed to send waves of pleasure passing through her trembling body.
Caleb’s orgasm rose up inside of him, ready to launch. But he suppressed it, slowing his grind in order to focus on forestalling his climax. Abigail shuddered with his sudden change of rhythm, a scream pouring out of her mouth as her own orgasm clearly began to explode within her.
Caleb pulled tight on those red curls, Abigail arching beneath him before his orgasm bolted down his rod, streaming down his vein and spitting violently into her. Caleb succumbed to the power of his own body, thrusting his hips and driving that explosive delivery deep inside her. Abigail wriggled and trembled and groaned through her clenched jaws and clenched womanhood, the focus of her entire being drawn to their mutual eruptions. Juices intermingled in a hot cocktail unique to that pair, that moment. It was more than a clash of bodies and energies, it was an intermingling of energies and vibrations and consciences, hearts beating in perfect sync.
Their energies collided and then peaked, a moment of perfect pitch between them. Their bodies were still and taut, pressed together closer than close and tighter than tight. But the true union was happening inside her, a concoction that could never evaporate and a union that could not be undone.
They relaxed in each other’s arms, two bodies reclining in the sweat-soaked sheets. Her head fell lightly on his chest, her pale arm reaching over to cling to him in adoration. Caleb lay there in resplendent repose, arms and legs stretched out in happy exhaustion as that adorable creature curled up on and around him. They lay in the mutual musk of their new union, her heartbeat slowing to match his own, the two in absolute sync.
CHAPTER NINE
Caleb stood on the old-fashioned book ladder which rolled along the top shelf of the Armstrong House library room. Wheels on the bottom meant a person could climb to the top shelf and roll themselves along, picking out book after book. Caleb felt even more as if he’d stepped into the nineteenth century, but that was the least of his concerns.
The volumes on the shelves seemed to include ancient copies of the great works of mankind: Darwin’s On the Origin of the Species, the collected works of Plato, copies of Da Vinci’s diaries. But there was nothing hidden by Carl Kahr about his contemporary struggles, or about the Armstrong family itself. More and more, Caleb was certain that the family’s history was key to the goings on at Armstrong House, and that it had everything to do with his brother’s brutal death.
Caleb glanced from the ladder to Abigail, teaching Daniel in the adjoining parlor. They sat by the window reading, and Caleb could hardly resist being entranced. Their night together echoed in his every tissue.
Stop it, he told himself, concentrate! There has to be some reason the shifter was here. The coywolves, the cook’s fears; it wasn’t Carl who brought it all on. He came here because he was hunting that bear shifter, I’m certain of that, even if he wound up being hunted by it. But that means the shifter was here first!
Caleb looked over the book titles, though his mind was racing.
Must be a local, maybe some wacko out in a shed somewhere but more likely somebody in town, or… in one of the neighboring houses. It can’t be a coincidence and whoever it is can’t be very far off!
A chill ran up Caleb’s spine to consider that the shifter could actually be somebody in the Armstrong House.
Not likely, Caleb told himself. Certainly not Abigail or the kid. That detective, maybe, or… the pastor? Is it possible?
His thoughts drifted from the seeming absurdity of it all to what was real and truthful and knowable to a mortal certainty.
Abigail.
Caleb had told himself so often and for so long that he could never establish a true loving relationship that he’d come to accept it. His life was a dangerous one, he was a dangerous man, and he had no right to endanger the life of any innocent person. And any innocent person who got too close to a shifter was going to be in danger; it was only a matter of time.
Well, Caleb reasoned, it’s a dangerous world for everyone anyway. It’ll only be safer when we come together. She… she loves me, I’m pretty sure. I… God, just thinking about her drives me wild! I’ll kill every bear in this state, build her a tower out of their bones just to see her smile!
Shifters and normalos interbreed all the time, Caleb reminded himself. Why shouldn’t we, if that’s what nature wants and it’s what we want?
A cold chill ran down Caleb’s spine.
But she has to know what she’s getting into. I have to be honest with her. And when I am, she’ll either run for the hills or send me packing. What woman wouldn’t? But I have to stay here until I catch that ursine shifter and kill it! Then she can kick me out all she likes, and I won’t blame her one bit. She deserves a better life, a normal life. If suspending the truth a bit helps to make that happen, I’m sure she’ll forgive me in the end.
And even if she doesn’t, at least she’ll still be alive.
But before Caleb could go on thinking along those lines, he knew he had to turn his attention to the matter of the ursine shifter. There was no clue among the books in the study, but Caleb was certain he or she had to be close, and deadly. Once that matter was resolved, Caleb could turn his attention to Abigail and Daniel and their future together.
There’s also the matter of Master Armstrong, Caleb reminded himself. Where does he figure into all this? Probably just some embittered businessman, sad about his wife’s death and throwing himself into his European midlife crisis. Son of a bitch leaves his child in the care of some strangers while he’s off doing whatever the hell he’s doing.
Caleb thought about that for a moment. What is he doing? Maybe it’s time he comes back? But a second thought told Caleb that he’d rather the man stay away for a while. Edith Mott was trouble enough, at least as it regarded his new relationship with Abigail. And some pompous-ass, old-money millionaire was the last thing Caleb needed to worry about.
He’s probably just drinking and whoring his way through the continent anyway.
Thoughts of Daniel’s father only led to thoughts of his mother, dead for over a year according to Abigail’s telling, which Caleb had no reason to doubt. How did she die, Caleb wondered, and did that have anything to do with the shifter? Was she a victim of him too? Is that what brought Carl here in the first place? What connection did he have with her, if any?
Caleb glanced again at Abigail, employed after the
matron’s death.
Caleb had to wonder, What will she know about it? Edith or Lulu would know better… but I don’t think either one’s gonna talk. The cook maybe…
Edith happened to step into the library, looking up at Caleb with a newly suspicious smile. “Find what you’re looking for?”
Caleb climbed down the ladder. “Didn’t find anything, Edith.”
“Nothing about bear hunting or groundskeeping?” A tense silence passed between them.
Caleb said simply, “No.”
“Perhaps you could see to the topiaries, then. They need trimming.”
“The topiaries,” Caleb repeated.
Edith nodded and smiled. “If you don’t mind.”
Caleb went to the tool shed on the first floor of the cottage, found the shears, and walked out to the backyard to a series of sculpted bushes, topiaries of six feet tall or more—a lion, a bear, a wolf. But the edges were ragged, overgrowth obscuring the artist’s original intent. Caleb went about clipping the bushes, sharpening the edges of the deliberately vague shapes.
He clipped the bear, sensitive to a certain vibration emitting from the plant, from the earth itself. Caleb couldn’t help but think of the shifter, glancing at the wolf shape behind it. Can it be a coincidence? he wondered. Is that possible? But… these topiaries have been here for a year at least!
Caleb looked at the topiaries again, wondering, Could Carl have cut these? Is this his record of what was happening here, what was going to happen? Caleb stepped back and looked the plant sculptures over again. A lion and a bear and a wolf. The bear and the wolf made sense to Caleb, and it revealed little more than what he already knew from his own dream vision.
But… a lion? What does that mean? There aren’t lion shifters out here, are there? Lions, in New England? No, it can’t be.
Another thought crackled in the back of Caleb’s head. The coywolves? Impossible.
There was no ready answer, and Caleb’s imagination began to spin. But a glance at the house cleared his brain and his heart. Abigail and Daniel were sitting behind the French windows of the living room, smiling and waving. Caleb was glad to return the happy gestures, knowing their affection was sincere even from that distance. He was already anxious to be even closer to them both; to share another meal, to share another night.
CHAPTER TEN
Daniel had been studying hard and was taking a break, playing in the backyard with toy airplanes, which he guided around with imagined deftness and heroism.
Caleb and Abigail watched him from nearby, serene smiles on their faces even as Caleb scanned the area to make sure no more coywolves were about. They weren’t normally daytime hunters, and the harsh lesson he’d doled out should have kept them away, so there was no reason to lock the boy up. But there was still every reason to be cautious.
“Poor kid,” Caleb said, “losing his mother so young. It’s… it’s something you never get over.”
“Did your—I mean, did you lose a parent?”
“Both, when I was about seventeen, Carl was nineteen. Airplane crash, geese in the engine.”
“How horrible.”
“It really was,” Caleb said, the emptiness it created in his life returning to the fore. It was an empty pit in his heart that was always howling with a spiritual wind blowing through it. “But it is a part of life, after all. Nobody lives forever.”
“No, I suppose you’re right. I never knew my real parents, they… they couldn’t handle it, I guess, I dunno. But I was raised in foster homes, four of them over the years.”
Caleb had heard about the foster care system, how it was rife with abusers both physical and sexual, people who were in it only for the money and would collect children just to increase their drinking fund. If she had four foster homes, Caleb instantly realized, that meant at least three of them were terrible, for reasons Caleb could already imagine.
There was no need to ask about it further, but Caleb was filled with the impulse to hug her and kiss her and make love to her, protect her from any more pain from any source, man or beast.
And she still seemed likely to be the key to finding out what had happened to his brother. So Caleb asked, “How did she die, Mrs. Armstrong?”
Abigail tiled her head to give it some thought. “Y’know, I… I’m not sure. The late Mrs. Armstrong, that’s all I know. I never asked about it. Why? You don’t think she was… she was attacked, the way your brother was?”
Caleb shook his head. “Not unless her body was never found, otherwise… two bear attacks in just over a year, in the same house? Animal control would have been all over the state searching for it.”
“Unless that cop is corrupt,” Abigail said. “You know I don’t trust him, and I know you don’t.”
Caleb gave it only a little thought. “Still, I can’t imagine he’s got the whole of the animal control department under wraps. I’m just curious about Mrs. Armstrong, that’s all.” He was more than curious, and that wasn’t all, but of course Caleb couldn’t go into details.
Edith stepped out to the yard in a quirk of good timing. She said, “I hope your leisure time isn’t infringing on your duties, Caleb.”
Caleb and Abigail shared a glance, and Caleb turned to Edith. “Glad you’re here, Edith. What can you tell me about… about Mrs. Armstrong?” Edith looked around with a nervous expression, mouth wriggling, ears twitching.
“Well, she…” Edith turned away and lowered her voice to say, “not in front of the boy.”
But Caleb looked over and saw that Daniel was in his own world about twenty feet away. Caleb said to Edith, “He’s not listening.”
Edith seemed to absorb Caleb and Abigail’s determined curiosity. “Missus Armstrong… we don’t know where she is, exactly.”
Caleb asked, “You mean, the body was never found?”
After some hesitation, Edith explained, “She… she went missing, actually.”
“Went missing,” Caleb repeated. “I don’t understand.”
“She… she ran off, is what happened; with a man, we think.”
“We?”
“Master Armstrong was struck dumb when she left,” Edith explained. “He vowed to hunt her down, find her. That was when we hired Miss Sanderson here. Anyway. It was Master Armstrong’s choice to refer to her as being dead, rather than be humiliated with an explanation. After a while, he seemed to accept it, and he was ready to move on, for the child’s sake. But then he got word that she was in Europe, through some private detective. That’s why he’s there now, trying to find Mrs. Armstrong.”
Abigail asked, “And bring her back? She’ll only leave again.”
Edith shrugged. “He’s a very prideful man. And he doesn’t like his staff overstepping their bounds.”
“The grounds are well kept,” Caleb said.
“Indeed,” Edith said with a mean glare at Abigail that didn’t need any explanation to Caleb.
Abigail said, “He just killed four coywolves, Edith. I can’t imagine a more capable caretaker.”
Edith nodded, not seeming to need to add another snide remark. So she asked, “What about this bear?”
Caleb shrugged. “It doesn’t seem interested in coming back.”
“Then perhaps your work here is done.” Edith turned and waddled back into the house, leaving Abigail and Caleb to share a glance and return their attention to Daniel.
Abigail asked, “What are you going to do about that bear, just… let the whole thing go?”
Caleb surveyed the woods and shook his head. “Not sure. But… something’s coming, I can feel it.”
Abigail nodded, resting her hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Yeah, I can feel it too.”
“I’m gonna go check those traps,” Caleb said, “make sure nothing stepped into them, a deer or some other innocent animal.”
“Alone? No, Caleb, don’t you dare! I won’t let you!”
He cracked a little smile. “I’ll be fine, Abigail. I’ll bring the gun.”
“Then w
e won’t have it here! Caleb, stay… please?”
“It’s part of my job, Abigail. Look, if some fawn or something is stuck in one of our traps, that’ll only bring in more predators.” She seemed begrudgingly convinced, green eyes looking downward before he kissed her pale, freckled forehead. “I’ll be back in an hour.”
Caleb brought the shotgun, though he did it mostly for Abigail’s sense of wellbeing. He didn’t expect to need it. But as he walked cautiously through the woods surrounding the property, something told Caleb that he’d need a lot more than just a shotgun. He’d been right that any local coywolves that were inclined to come after him wouldn’t do it during the day; they were nocturnal predators. But bears weren’t, and the black bears in the area were becoming less and less afraid of humans. Caleb knew that he could handle any normal bear in his lupine form, but he didn’t want to shift if he didn’t have to, or kill an animal he didn’t have to. It would only leave him with another carcass to dispose of, another signal to other predators. And he could kill a hundred black bears and it wouldn’t solve the problem of the shifter, a problem that was nagging at him more and more. He’d found no clues as to who the shifter might be, and without that information, his investigation was stymied. He reviewed it as he walked through the woods, checking one trap to find it empty and still set.
The shifter must have been here first, Caleb reminded himself, that’s what brought my brother in, to kill it. Could it have been this Master Armstrong? Is he the shifter? Maybe he’s not really in Europe at all. Maybe he killed his wife and my brother and he’s still lurking around, waiting to kill me.