
BLAME IT ON THE MOON
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Blame It on the Moon
This e-book is a work of fiction. While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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Loose Id LLC
1802 N Carson Street, Suite 212-2924
Carson City NV 89701-1215
www.loose-id.com
Copyright © January 2008 by Shara Lanel
All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced or shared in any form, including, but not limited to printing, photocopying, faxing, or emailing without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC.
ISBN 978-1-59632-605-7
Available in Adobe PDF, HTML, MobiPocket, and MS Reader
Printed in the United States of America
Editor: Barbara Marshall
Cover Artist: April Martinez
To the friends who are there when I really need you: Tracy, Dini, Kelly, and Jeff. Thank God I have you! And to my faithful companion, Ana-dog. You've brightened my life for fifteen years now. I will miss you, beyond words, when you are gone.
Kitty Lazarus loved her store...when it was empty. For just a little while, she could forget that she'd become a freak of nature. For a little while, she had her mind all to herself.
Two o'clock on a Monday afternoon meant most of the weekend returns were in and the lunch-break visitors were gone. The return box was full, giving Kitty a challenge as she tugged it over the green Berber carpet to the cash wrap, but a filled box meant mucho money from rentals, so she couldn't complain. She even found herself humming along to the theme music coming from the televisions mounted around the store. The occasional spring breeze wafting through the open door augmented her mental quiet as she scanned in the DVD returns.
Until images from an unfamiliar brain dissolved her peace.
Damn.
A daydream, or perhaps a memory ‑‑ Kitty couldn't tell which ‑‑ played like a movie in the man's mind, and Kitty experienced it with shocking vividness as if she shared his body.
The cool smoothness of the sheets caressed his knees, and the mattress sank under his weight as he knelt over the woman on the bed. The sheets covered her bare, full breasts, and he imagined inching the fabric down to watch her nipples tighten as the cool air slid over her skin. His mouth watered as he remembered the taste of those sensitive nipples rolling on his tongue. The scent of her sex, overpowering, musky, and ripe, filled his nose, calling to him, tempting him to replay last night.
More memories flooded Kitty's vision, and she realized she was intensely turned on by this man's thoughts. His whistling floated in on the breeze, but he remained out of sight, just beyond her view on the sidewalk.
Suddenly, he was on top of her, inside of her, thrusting with wild passion, the hot, slick pressure of her muscles against his cock practically burning him. Sweat covered his skin, dripped onto her, blended with her juices. It was salty in his mouth as he shuttled in and out of her, increasing his pace, watching her face for signs that she was right there with him.
Crash. Kitty dropped a stack of DVDs and braced herself against the counter as an overwhelming wave of desire engulfed her. She'd never received such clear images from someone's thoughts before, especially from someone not yet in the room with her. And these were more than images ‑‑ these were intense sensations ‑‑ as if she wore his skin, but without any speech to ground her. Her face burned and her body softened, leaving her sure of only one thing ‑‑ whoever was approaching her store had way too much power over her.
The woman gazed up at him with glazed eyes and smiled briefly. Her breathy moans echoed in his ears, telling him how much she enjoyed each hard dig of his cock, and his arousal arched as he watched her breasts bounce, her tits so engorged they were almost purple. Her platinum blonde hair was splayed across his pillows, and the liquid warmth and straining muscles of her climax set off his own. He howled in completion and held himself tightly above the blonde as he emptied himself into her, trying to make their perfect connection last a little longer.
The memory ‑‑ was it a memory? ‑‑ abruptly morphed back into the image of the mattress sinking beneath his knees, as he stretched out his fingers, reaching out to touch the woman's shoulder. Should he wake her up? Was it too soon? Could he make it worth her while? The salty tang of her skin lingered in his mouth, and the thought of her breasts plump against his tongue almost made his decision for him. His cock grew heavy as he looked at her, tossed between his present need and the memory of sex.
The phantom sensation of his cock filling, readying for the inevitable plunge inside his lover, heightened Kitty's arousal, now obvious as she felt a trickle seep from her body. She clenched her thighs together in embarrassment as the man finally strolled through the open door to her store.
My God, how could he look so normal when he was having thoughts like that?
The man wore khakis and a preacher-collar shirt, and had rich, dark hair. Kitty's fingers immediately itched to touch the silky strands. She couldn't see his eyes yet, but his solid, clean-shaven jaw bore the hint of tan.
The moment the man focused on her, on his current surroundings, the erotic images disappeared. Kit sighed in relief, but her hands trembled as she rescued the DVDs and forced them back into a neat stack. She tried to resist looking up, preferring to concentrate on the blurb on the DVD box, but the pull was too strong. The stranger's eyes caught her like a deer in headlights, mesmerized her, not only because of their intensity, but also because of their unusual color ‑‑ amber with flecks of brown and green.
Kitty cleared her throat, which had gone suspiciously dry. "Can I help you?" She sounded a bit terse, but that was because the stranger had sent her from zero to sixty in two seconds. Her heart still raced, and her damp panties reminded her of all the sensations she'd just experienced.
The stranger smiled, revealing a dimple in one sexy cheek. His eyes glinted with humor, and he had the longest lashes she'd ever seen on a man. "Good afternoon. I'm Haden Blackwood." His voice had a faint brogue to it, low and yummy. He extended his hand.
Kitty stared at it, momentarily confused. Usually customers ignored her or gave her a quick nod, then dove into their movie search. When they asked her a question, it was with their hands in their pockets, thinking of her as an employee and not a person. Most importantly, customers usually gave her running mental monologues and two-dimensional thoughts, like a TV show playing in the background, not holographic, living-color experiences that left her hot and bothered.
Her brain finally clicked on the proper response, and she hoped her hand wasn't sweaty as she reached for Haden's palm. Their skin touched, and his nostrils flared. Kitty became aware of his thoughts once again. They were less distinct now, but still different from anyone else's she'd ever read. He was pondering her scent, which was weird, since she never wore strong perfume, and he stood at least two feet away from her.
"I recently leased the space next door," Haden said. Again that succulent burr in his voice, and she imagined him whispering in her ear as he settled his big, hard body between her legs. The deep sound triggered a response in her stomach and sent shivers up her arms.
"Really?" She resisted the urge to pat her hair and lick her lips. She would not preen for this guy.
"Yes, indeed." He glanced around the video store. "Nice place you have here." One moment he pictured the store as it was, and the next he was stepping through a demolished wall into her store space, watching that space gradually fill with booths and tables, a bigger stage, and a longer bar. "And you are?"
Kitty squared her shoulders. So he thought he could take over her store, did he? That's what the images in his mind implied. Why did sexy men always have to be assholes? Struggling to remain polite, she replied, "I'm Kitty Lazarus. What kind of place are you opening?"
"A pub." Images flitted through his mind of glasses of Guinness, old musicians with wrinkled smiles, and stomping feet on a sticky floor. The smells of unfamiliar food and old wood were so strong that Kitty guessed that Haden had been to the pub in his thoughts. The laughing voices had strong accents. A pub in Ireland, maybe?
Focusing back on the conversation, Kitty thought about the idea of a pub here. The downtown area sported an Irish pub, a British pub, and probably even a tavern or two, but this was a rinky-dink shopping center in the Richmond suburbs. Sports bars equipped with plasma screens and pool tables seemed more apropos. "A pub's an interesting choice," she said diplomatically, even as she wondered why she was trying to be tactful.
Especially since his mind kept wandering to sex. He ought to be arrested for his fantasies...honestly! In his mind, his strong hands slid over Kitty's hips, and she was overtaken by the force of his thoughts again.
He caught the hem of her shirt and lifted it, noting the goose flesh on the side of her ribs as the air struck her. The higher the fabric lifted, the pinker her skin grew. Was she flushing from embarrassment or arousal? He breathed in and smelled the truth. Arousal. She bit her lip in nervousness, but didn't resist as he pulled the shirt over her head slowly, blinding her for a moment. She was in his control. His hands spanned her warm waist as he lifted her onto the counter. Her scent nearly overpowered him. He knew she was wet and ready without a word being said.
Man, oh, man! Kitty was used to sometimes picking up on obscene thoughts in her customers' minds, but usually they didn't center on her. Funny, in Haden's imagination she wore a skimpy black lace bra filled by perfectly formed breasts, instead of the totally unsexy white sports bra she actually wore.
Kit licked her lips, trying to keep calm, but her nipples perked in response to his thoughts. How could he look so cool when he had this X-rated movie in his head? She was flushed from head to toe and found herself developing a little fantasy of her own. She liked the idea of sitting on the counter. She added to that the action of loosening the buttons of his shirt one by one, listening to his breath catch as her fingers brushed against his chest, and she slid her feet along the backs of his thighs. She imagined how solid his muscles would feel under her hands, how big he would feel between her legs.
His voice startled her out of her reverie. "A pub, you know, with drinks and fish and chips." He was obviously following their stilted conversation better than she was, but then, he didn't have the added bonus of two sets of thoughts to contend with. She only hoped he couldn't tell how attentive her nipples had become.
"What are your hours going to be?" she managed to ask.
"Last call will be at one."
Kit's mouth dropped open, and she reminded herself again that she should stop fantasizing about this guy. "Linda and Kyle approved it staying open that late? It took me a year and a new Ukrops before they let me stay open until eleven."
"You own this store? You're too young." In his mind, he pictured someone kicking his butt. You don't talk about a woman's age, asshole. "Sorry. That didn't come out right."
Kit blinked. "Young, huh?" It was a compliment in a way, but she'd dealt with enough male business owners to know that you didn't give them the slightest cause to doubt you. Unfortunately, the fact that she looked young for her age fostered doubts in men's minds about her ability to do her job. She stared at the computer screen and tried to read what it said, when actually her hands itched to touch this gorgeous male specimen before her. Hell, they itched to touch her own body, slide down to her clit, and ease the tension she was feeling. A little time alone in the backroom would do her wonders. Then maybe she could think again and concentrate on work.
One of the most disconcerting things about her talent ‑‑ mind-reading ‑‑ was seeing herself as others saw her, like looking into a mirror, but colored by the viewer's filter. Haden was noticing her stiff stance and the fact that she was trying to give him the brush-off, but he also noticed her pink cheeks and perky nipples, and again he thought about her scent. In fact, Kitty could smell it ‑‑ extreme arousal ‑‑ and she didn't know if she was reading his thoughts or being overly conscious of her own body odor.
He didn't look away for a long, embarrassing moment. Finally, he relaxed and asked, "Do you mind if I look around?" His voice made her think of molten lava and other warm, melting things.
"Feel free. Anything in particular you're looking for?" She concentrated on steadying her hands so she could resume scanning in the returns. Look normal, act normal, stop thinking about hot sex with a stranger. If only that hot stranger would stop thinking about it himself.
"Not really. I've been too busy getting things lined up for the pub to relax with movies lately." But his thoughts weren't on business details. They'd returned to the scene on the bed and the blonde woman's sleeping form. This time they weren't as vivid, and they weren't about sex. They seemed tinged with something different, something like regret. Who was she? His wife, perhaps? If so, that was another reason to stay far away from him. He shouldn't be visualizing sex with strangers if he had a wife to go home to.
Strange, though. When Kitty was getting ready to get the video store off the ground, her thoughts had been consumed with shipping orders, money problems, evil contractors, advertising, and the like. This man's mind seemed oddly one tracked. Maybe it would be a while before the pub opened, or maybe he wasn't very business oriented.
Nothing for her to worry about ‑‑ not yet, at least.
Haden stiffened when, once again, uninvited images of Leslie filled his mind. He couldn't shake the memories today. That scene from the past rewound and played over and over in detail, more vivid than usual. Maybe it was the scent of the store owner's arousal in the air. He'd smelled it as soon as he'd entered the shop, sweet and alluring. It reminded him of that morning, of the smell of Leslie's sex, so strong...too strong. He winced again at the memories of licking along the velvety, salty skin of his girlfriend's ample hips and through the moist fur between her legs. She'd been a wildcat all night long, making the thought of going to work in the morning sheer torture. The memory of her riding him, hands kneading his stomach, breasts bobbing in her red lace bra, still turned him on even as it repulsed him and ratcheted up the guilt. At some point he'd stripped off her bra with his teeth, tasting every inch of skin along her shoulders and across her collarbone. He'd watched her play with her clit, and then he'd sucked her juices from her fingers. It had been a long night of lovemaking, and in the morning, all he'd wanted to do was have an encore.
If only...
God! Why did he keep dwelling on this? He'd moved on. A different state, a different name. And no amount of second-guessing would bring Leslie back.
Haden picked up the DVD case in front of him, but instead of seeing the image on the cover, he called up the face of the rental store owner, forcibly shutting out Leslie's ghost. He sniffed the air, catching a fruity scent, probably from the store owner's shampoo. Kitty was unexpected in many ways and a safer subject for his thoughts than Leslie. Not only was she younger than he'd expected, she was a female. He chuckled inwardly at his stereotyping. More fool him. She was also very nice-looking, petite in stature, but with generous hips and breasts.
Okay, nice-looking didn't even come close. He'd wanted to throw her against the counter and ride her hard the minute he'd laid eyes on her. It'd been a long time since he'd had uncomplicated sex. Pulling Kitty's light brown hair loose from her practical ponytail and nibbling the lobes with the tiny turquoise earrings sounded like fun, and he could easily imagine her tight hole squeezing him to ecstasy. Sadly, fun and ecstasy didn't fit in with his plan.
He could feel her rich brown eyes on him even now, studying him.
Oh, yeah, nice-looking was a serious understatement. Hot was closer to the truth. Damn. Why couldn't she be some elderly man close to retirement age?
Haden set the DVD case down and looked around, evaluating the store space. Mentally calculating square footage helped get women, all women, off his brain. He planned a rapid expansion of the pub, fueled by mega promotion. Radio spots were scheduled, TV commercials. Press releases had gone out. He hoped a series of gimmicky things early on, like ladies' nights and poker tournaments, would put the place on the map, make it the hot spot in metro Richmond.
Of course, he hadn't counted on the owner of the neighboring store being quite so sexy and edible. His mouth watered as he imagined cupping his fingers around the delectable globes in her bra, feeling their weight, rubbing his thumbs across the fabric until her nipples reacted to his touch. He watched her fingers fly across the keyboard and thought about them teasing his balls, testing their weight, and massaging the base of his cock. His bed seemed so empty lately. Before, it'd been just a place to sleep, but for the past few days every time he looked at it, he grew depressed. Kitty on his Egyptian cotton sheets, sweaty and open beneath him as he hammered into her, would make his bed an inviting place. Maybe having her there would be enough to chase away Leslie's ghost.
Stop that! You don't have time for a relationship, and the last one screwed up your life forever, so forget women, particularly women who lease the space you want to acquire.
He turned back to face Kit and sniffed the air. He couldn't seem to help himself. She smelled surprised and...annoyed. What had he done to annoy her, other than imply she was young? Their conversation had been brief. He knew he hadn't impressed her with his repartee, but he didn't think he'd said anything to make her angry, either.
"Well, I'll have to get a membership," Haden said, to break the growing awkwardness. He felt a heaviness in his cock that could lead to an embarrassing situation. He needed to rein in his senses and act like a businessman again. "Once the pub is open, since I'll be close by."
"You do that," she said. Her smile seemed less than genuine. "When will you be opening?"
"This weekend."
Now the frown and annoyance were clear in her look and tone. "So soon? I'm surprised the other shop owners didn't get notice."
He'd purposely talked Kyle and Linda out of notifying the shop owners. "I wanted to keep it hush-hush until I had everything in place, so I could make a splash." He'd also wanted to avoid any ruckus the other owners might cause, and he could tell by Kitty's reaction that he'd made the right decision. "And I wanted to go around and tell everyone in person."
"But how could you get everything ready over there without me hearing?" Hand on her hip, she nibbled her bottom lip, and he found himself unable to look away. He imagined those glossy lips would taste like cinnamon or cherry.
"I'm very nocturnal. I've been here working in the wee hours so I wouldn't disturb anyone." He spoke normally, but her musk perfumed the air, catching in his throat. She smelled like she was ready to go to bed with him in the middle of the store in the middle of the day.
And he wanted to take her up on that.
But she shook her head, as if denying whatever she was feeling. "It took me three months of constant effort to get this place ready. Delivery vans, workers. Everyone in the whole strip knew my store was opening. What are you? Magic?"
He grinned, tucking his thumb through his belt loop and giving her a wink. "Don't worry. This week I'll make up for lost time."
And he did. Every single day, starting with that Monday afternoon, Kitty saw delivery vans parked in front of her store. New stainless steel appliances were delivered, followed by cases and cases of beer in bottles and kegs, ale, stout, and lager. Haden himself made trek after trek to the ABC alcohol store, which was just a few doors down in the shopping center, coming back with crates of tequila, rum, whiskey, and assorted cordials. Kit enjoyed watching his muscular arms strain with the effort of carrying those heavy crates. She indulged in creative daydreams about those arms straining to keep his body perched above her as he drove his cock, a large and hard cock, into her vagina. Sometimes she imagined him laying her down on the carpet behind the cash wrap, just hidden from view of the sidewalk. Then he'd tug her pants down and lift her thighs over his shoulders as he tasted her clit with what she fantasized was a very talented tongue. If she got too wrapped up in her fantasy, she'd find herself squirming as she put movies away.
Then food started arriving. Hammering, power saws, and God knew what else created a nonstop racket. Kit's customers all complained, so she concentrated on pleasing them, reading their desires in their minds, so that she seemed more helpful and efficient than the average employee. At first, when she was growing accustomed to her "gift," she'd considered this cheating, but now it was second nature and one of the truly useful aspects of her talent.
During lulls, her mind wandered back to the thoughts she'd read in Haden's mind. They'd felt different, much more real. The man himself was quite a distraction, with his Irish brogue and sexy masculinity, but his thoughts had come to her in pictures and sensations with only a couple of words thrown in. There'd been no context to them, no accompanying monologue, nothing to let her know if the woman was a wife or girlfriend.
Instead, her other senses had been involved in a way she'd never experienced before. Weird. At first, she'd wondered if her gift had evolved, but several customers had come in later that day, and her ability had gone back to normal. Only Haden's thoughts seemed able to transport her into his mind fully. And when he wasn't around, she found herself dwelling constantly on his intensity when he'd gone down on the blonde, his enthusiasm. He'd been thinking about her musky scent and the odd sweetness of her cream. What would it be like for him to do that to her? Would he like her smell and taste as much?
Not that she wanted him to. Ahem...of course not. Fantasies were far simpler than real relationships. She didn't mind imagining his tongue roving over her thighs while she restocked DVDs in the "adult" room in the back corner of the store. Beyond the door marked 18 AND OVER ONLY, the naked bodies on the box covers enticed her to mentally paste Haden into the male positions. That was safe, uncomplicated, and ever since she'd received her "gift," she was all about uncomplicated.
Thankfully, Kit's customers provided some distraction from her growing obsession with both the pub and its owner. For example, the man in the Bostonian loafers was cheating with his secretary ‑‑ how clichéd! ‑‑ and wishing he could break it off, since his wife was suspicious. He rented 9½ Weeks. Kit guessed that was for the secretary and not the wife, especially when he pictured making the lady crawl across his office with her bare bottom sticking up in the air.
Kit's problem, she supposed, besides being a freak, was that she always felt conflicted about her ability to read minds. She knew she was invading the customers' privacy, but it wasn't like there was an "off" switch. She wasn't doing it with malicious intent, though she was sure she had plenty of blackmail fodder. It could be her backup profession if Haden ran her store into the ground, which seemed more and more possible once she started seeing the ads everywhere. "Blackie's Irish Pub, the hot spot in Richmond. Enjoy a pint on us during our grand opening weekend." She might as well close down, since every souse in the city would come to roost for the free beer. But, hey, maybe some of the drunks would want movies to go with their inebriation.
Kit already had Matt and Gina, her two part-time employees, scheduled for the evening hours on Friday and Saturday. That should cover any overflow business from the pub.
She heard the whistling just before Haden's masculine form filled her doorway. He was dressed in tight jeans and a cotton work shirt that emphasized his broad chest. This time the pictures in his head were of his inventory database, but that changed the moment he walked through the door, caught her eyes, and smiled. Immediately the image in his mind was of her behind the counter, reflecting his smile. For a moment, he stuck with reality, but then he visualized her slowly unbuttoning her polo shirt and lifting it over her head. The sound of her heartbeat magnified as the number of beats increased, and she could hear her own breath as if through a stethoscope. But all of this was in Haden's mind, not her own.
Yeah, right, buddy. Not going to happen. She narrowed her eyes, but she couldn't stop her traitorous nipples from hardening against the lace of her bra. Yes, this time she wore a black lace bra ‑‑ the power of suggestion.
He smiled. "So how's it going?" His voice never failed to send shivers up her spine.
"Well, gee, nonstop hammering, continual questions and complaints from customers, noisy trucks idling out front...what do you think?"
"You tell it like it is, don't you?"
She plunked her hands on her hips. If she could focus on her grievances, maybe she'd stop thinking about having sex with him. Yeah, right. How could she when he was even now worrying about getting an erection just from being near her? "Why shouldn't I?"
"No reason at all." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "So let me make it up to you. How about a late dinner to get you over hump day?"
Dinner sounded way too dangerous, but "hump day" had interesting connotations. "I don't close up 'til eleven."
"I know, but I've finally acquired some food, utensils, and a stove next door, so I thought I could cook you something once you're through here. And I have some chilled wine and to-die-for chocolate cake."
"Chocolate cake..." Her stomach rumbled on cue. Yes, she could use some chocolate cake. Well, her hips couldn't, but she needed some endorphins, and certainly the antioxidants wouldn't hurt either. Chocolate was a health food now, right?
The man's mind flooded with images of rare cuts of beef and lamb hanging in his newly installed walk-in refrigerator. Yuck. Think about the cake, man. I want to see what that looks like. She just couldn't get used to not "hearing" this guy's thoughts in words. She wanted more details about him. Beyond the fact that he had to be, like, the sexiest man alive, in Richmond at least.
"Okay, sure. I'll have dinner with you. It's the least you can do." She paused, almost slapping her hand over her mouth. Why had she agreed? "You're not married, are you?" She at least had to know that much about him.
"No. Are you?"
"No."
His grin changed to show teeth, and she caught the phrase Wolfish...good thing she can't read minds coming from him. Well, she could read minds, just not some as well as others apparently.
The whole mind-reading thing had started a couple of years ago. She'd been intent on joining in her neighbors' obsession with those cute pineapple and holiday flags. She didn't really get the whole flag thing, but since she'd finally bought a house of her own, the ultimate symbol of her spinsterhood, she was determined to complete the image with an ornamental flag. She'd gone outside, black L-shaped pole in hand, when her yard was mushy from a recent rain, figuring the dirt would be more pliable then. She'd had a hammer to bang the pole in place when she finally decided on its position. But she'd forgotten about the cord her father had buried in the ground at Christmas so she could plug in the lights on her azalea bush. The lights were long gone, but the cord was still beneath the soil when she drove the spike through the soft dirt. She heard a squish from ground water, then felt the shock of her life as the metal pole struck the still-plugged-in cord and sliced it in half.
Had she blacked out for a moment? She never remembered quite clearly. She'd remained on her feet, though, her head ringed by spiky hair. Every cell in her body felt like it had been torched, but five minutes later, she'd shaken it off, placed the pineapple flag on the pole arm, and walked back inside. She hadn't gone to the hospital that day. But she had later...much later...when she'd checked herself into the psychiatric ward.
Haden waved a hand in front of her face, which she found terribly annoying, although it did bring her back to the present. "Thought I'd lost you for a minute."
"You did," she said. According to her dad, her plain speaking was the reason she was still a spinster. Luckily no one used that term anymore, except in the Regency romances she loved to read. Besides, it wasn't her plain speaking that kept her single nowadays. It was the wee problem of knowing too much about the person she was dating, like whether he picked his nose in private or had a shoe fetish.
No lingering visions of shoes from Haden so far.
"So just knock on the wall when you're ready to come over tonight, okay?"
Was she really agreeing to this plan? Was he going to expect something in return? You betcha, judging by his pornographic thoughts. Maybe getting a little would be good for her. It didn't have to be anything complicated, like an actual relationship, right?
"Gotcha." Biting her lip, she watched as he walked back to the door, admiring, once again, the most fantabulous ass she'd ever seen! Michelangelo could not have created such a perfect ass.
That woman has the most perfect scent. Haden liked her breasts too, but it was much harder to judge their perfection through the coarse fabric of her polo shirt, just the relative size ‑‑ plump palmfuls. Kitty's enticing scent lingered in his brain as he walked the short distance to the pub. He was already counting the hours until she would knock on the wall and come over to enjoy dinner...and maybe other things. The other things bombarded his brain whenever he was within five feet of her.
Honestly, Haden, you don't need to screw around with a woman right now, no matter how horny you are. It's just going to complicate things, and things are already too complicated.
He'd risked coming back to the States, to Virginia, because he'd wanted to investigate more. He'd done as much as he could from afar, but he wasn't ready to be found yet, not by a long shot. The pub needed to be open, established, raking in the bucks. But would the money be enough to find the answers he needed? He also craved a bit of normalcy. He'd missed Virginia, the mountains, the cherry blossoms and stately homes. He was tired of living like a fugitive.
Dammit, he'd sworn to himself that he wouldn't obsess about this shit anymore. He'd made his choices, and he had a bar to open. He looked around the dim interior with pride. The counters and tables gleamed, as did the tap fixtures. This was his hope for the future. They wouldn't find him until he was ready. He'd covered his tracks perfectly, both when he'd left the country and when he'd reentered. He had to believe that.
In the back kitchen area, workmen rushed to finish various tasks, like the plumbing under the deep sinks and dishwasher and the gas fixtures leading into the stove. He'd hired an excellent cook, both on the recommendation of a colleague in the Chamber of Commerce, and because of the man's fish and chips. Greasy, crispy, and flavorful, they were just the thing to keep the customers coming back for more. That and the pub's selection of beers and ales.
"Hey, Phil," Haden said to the foreman. "Will you lock up for me when you all finish for the night? I need to run home for a bit."
"Sure thing, boss." Phil hefted his paunch off his belt and grinned. He was an honest fellow, without the least trace of nervousness, someone Haden could trust ‑‑ with the construction at least.
Haden pushed through the back door into the rear parking lot. Since the clocks had just changed, it remained light at seven p.m. but grew cooler by the minute. The weatherman predicted a cooler-than-usual snap for the next few days. The thing the weatherman hadn't noted was the waxing of the moon. Haden had tried to time the opening of Blackie's as soon after the full moon as possible. He wasn't ready to hand his duties over to an employee he barely knew before the sun went down each night, but in a couple weeks he wouldn't have a choice. God, how that galled him.
Stow it, man. That's your lot in life. Deal with it.
He paused as he felt a tingle along the back of his neck. He sniffed the air automatically, animal instincts for self-preservation coming into play. Sometimes he didn't even have words for the things he sensed, because a normal man couldn't smell the currents in the air or the nuances of emotion. For just a moment he caught a whiff of something sour and familiar, but then it was gone. The tingle remained, though, a feeling of being watched. He scoured the area with his gaze, but saw nothing other than Dumpsters, crates, and vehicles, a million places to hide unobserved.
He walked steadily to his Jaguar and pressed the button on his keychain to unlock the doors. A chirp signaled the freeing of the locks, so he opened the door and slid inside. Supple leather encased his backside. He turned the key in the ignition, and the satellite radio came to life. He flipped through the stations, trying to stifle the low growl that rumbled in his throat. Whatever he'd thought he'd smelled was gone. It was probably nothing.
No matter how many times he reminded himself to "deal with it," he still resented whoever had created him. He knew he was adopted. What he didn't know was if there were others like him or if he was a genetic anomaly. And even if his mother or father had passed this curse onto him, were they still alive? Did they have family? Most important, and the reason he believed he was the only one of his kind, if they were like him, why in the world would they give him up? Why would they ever risk strangers' lives by giving them a baby werewolf?
No, he couldn't reconcile the idea that his parents would knowingly give a baby werewolf to a young couple without any instructions or warning. That would be the ultimate cruelty.
But if it wasn't an inherited thing, how had he gotten this? Was it a disease? A mutation? And could he ever get rid of it?
\*
Kitty could not deal with herself that evening. She was like a little girl, humming, smiling at nothing. Even grumbling customers couldn't take away the buzz of excitement in her stomach.
This man wants your store, so no hanky-panky tonight. Get a grip!
But she wanted the hanky-panky, to hell with convention and getting to know Haden and meeting his family and not giving him milk for free and all that. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been this horny with all her nerves on fire, where she could sense the tiniest brush on her skin. She was ready to close early, bang on the wall, and go over and jump his bones. It was crazy!
Around eight-thirty, Kit's best friend, Marsha Peretsky, sporting teased orange hair with ponytails, wandered in with her boyfriend Brad, a tall scarecrow with shagged black hair. Marsha, even without the ability to read minds, immediately honed in on Kit's excitement. She'd already heard the whole story about the obnoxious guy who wanted to take over the store ‑‑ though Kit had carefully skirted around how she'd obtained that information ‑‑ but she didn't know about Kit's dinner date.
Marsha quickly got Brad out of the way by sending him to the backroom to search for their special evening entertainment. Then she cornered Kit by the checkout. "What is it? What's happened?"
Kit blushed when she caught Marsha thinking about her friend's nipples sticking out like dials on a radio, but her thoughts quickly switched to Brad in the backroom and what kind of video he would select.
Kit laughed, partially at Marsha's expression and partially at her scattered thoughts. "Nothing's happened," she said innocently.
"Oh, spill, before Brad gets back. It's that guy, right? The evil man that wants to take over your store?"
"The evil man with the most to-die-for ass on the planet!" Both women sighed in rapture at just the thought. "He wants me to come over for dinner after I close up."
"Over where?"
"Next door, to the pub."
"But it's not open yet."
Kit waggled her eyebrows. "That's the point." She paused and bit her lip. "I think." Could Haden have such raunchy fantasies about every woman he met? Maybe he wasn't really that into her.
"He wants you," Marsha said positively. "I mean, who wouldn't?"
"Hah! If I'm so wanted, why am I thirty and unmarried?"
"By choice, girl, and don't you forget it."
It was by choice for Marsha, maybe. She'd been happy with Brad for two years, but she'd told him point blank that she'd never marry him. That was who she was, but it was different with Kit. She'd hoped to marry and have a man to help shoulder the bills and the yard work, someone to keep her warm, even hot, at night. Instead she had a small house with a backyard that luckily had no need for mowing, and she had her own business. By most women's standards, she was considered a success. By her own, she was a dismal failure, and she'd made that assessment even before the whole mind-reading curse.
Marsha patted her shoulder. "I know you want more out of life, but you can't just hole up waiting for it. So go for this guy, have fun, and maybe he'll be the one." It was funny to hear her friend talk like that, almost sentimentally, but she knew Marsha empathized with her, even if their goals weren't the same. That's what friends did for each other: kept their eyes on the other person's goals in case they ever lost sight.
Kit felt like she lost sight of her own goals the minute she stepped out of her car each morning and read someone else's thoughts. Her days just grew more and more confusing, more diffuse. All she focused on now was keeping the video store in the black so that she could make her house payments. Not really a life, that.
Marsha greeted Brad as he left the backroom and peeked at his selection. Kit picked up the thought, Hmm, so he went with the bondage, huh? before the couple moved toward her. They'd picked a nice romantic comedy to complement the "adult" film. It was hard to get Marsha to blush, but she did blush as Kit scanned the title into the computer. Kit just smiled and told them to have a fun evening.
"Oh, we will. And you do too!"
Around ten-thirty, things slowed to an interminable crawl at the store. No customers came in. Moulin Rouge played on the monitors, and Kit stared at dreamy Ewan MacGregor out of habit. What should she say to Haden? How should she act? She wished she'd have time to go home and take a shower first. She'd at least freshen up in the bathroom before knocking on the wall. She put all the rental returns away in record time, not worrying about precise rows and even stacks, but still the time crawled. Then, at five to eleven, a single man wandered into the store.
Damn! She'd been just about to lock the door. Instead she smiled and turned off Moulin Rouge as a hint for him to make his choice quickly and leave. She pushed the return box under the window slot and surreptitiously began counting the money in the cash register.
The customer was an older gentleman in a long overcoat that had seen better days. She caught bits and pieces of his thoughts, but Kit didn't really sew them together because she was too preoccupied with her upcoming date.
Finally, she couldn't stand it any longer. She approached the man. "Can I help you find something in particular?"
It was then she read his one clear thought: Take the money and get out.
Sweat broke out under Kit's arms and breasts. Her breathing sped up, though she tried to keep calm, tried not to show fear. He could still change his mind. He hadn't made a threat yet. Just back away.
She took two steps. But don't go to the register. Don't make it easy. So she crossed the store to the wall closest to Haden and knocked as she pretended to straighten PlayStation games. But she didn't do the standard knock. She did three short, three long, three short. SOS in Morse code. Who knew if Haden even knew Morse code? It was a long shot, but she hoped he'd find it odd enough to investigate.
She turned back to the man and smiled nervously. His right hand was lost in the deep pocket of his overcoat, his thoughts on the shape and texture of the old revolver hidden there. He'd inherited it from his father. It wasn't loaded.
Thank God!
But she's so small. I could hit her in the head with it if I have to. I won't have to. Just show her the gun, get the money, and get out. Will it be enough? No. He'd have to do this twenty times for it to be enough. A bigger target, maybe, but a bigger target would be better protected. No, several little targets.
Do it now, chicken shit, before anyone comes peeking through the windows.
Kit froze. If she moved toward the phone, she'd also be moving toward the register. If she moved toward the storage room where the other extension was, she'd be out of sight, which could make her more vulnerable and give easy access to the register.
"Ma'am?" The man's voice cracked a bit. He cleared his throat.
"Yes?"
"Could you look something up for me?"
"What would that be?"
"Um..." He scratched his head with the hand that wasn't caressing the gun. "What year was Citizen Kane made?"
"Oh, let me find the box for you." She walked to the C's, which placed her farther from the counter. The man followed her, closing the distance.
Why had Kit tapped SOS on the wall? Was she joking? Haden glanced at his watch. It was five after eleven. She couldn't be closed up that fast. He stood near the wall connecting his pub to the video store and listened. A man's voice asked a question, and Kit's voice betrayed her tension.
And she'd tapped SOS. Shit.
Haden dashed outside and passed the store windows in seconds. Inside, Kit stood behind the counter across from a man in an overcoat. She looked distressed, but he couldn't tell what was going on until he opened the front door. Then the scent of sweat and fear accosted him. Not only Kit's fear, but the man's fear. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow as he fiddled with his jacket pocket. When the bell tinkled above the door, the man looked up, and his gray eyes widened.
"The store's closed," he said, his voice was scratchy like a man who'd smoked too many packs during his lifetime.
Kit's eyes had widened, too, but with relief. He could see the tremors running through her hands. They sat on top of the open money drawer. She let out a whoosh of breath. Haden walked right up to the counter, knowing that his size would intimidate, not to mention the look on his face. He'd been told that when he got that look on his face, it could frighten the most hardened criminal into straight behavior. He focused his most fiery expression on this grizzled man. What had Kit so frazzled? Something about this man was not right.
"Kit, do you need some help closing up?"
Like a spell had been broken, she slammed the money drawer closed.
The stranger blinked. "I told you I have a gun."
"So what?" She shook her shoulders as if sloughing off her previous fear. Then she snatched up the phone and dialed 9-1-1.
Oh, shit. "What's going on, Kit?" Haden tried to keep his tone even, but he was feeling a bit panicky. Police might ask questions, delve into his background. At the very least, news of a robbery would be really bad publicity for the shopping center right before the grand opening of his pub.
He heard Kit disconnect the call with her finger before it even rang once, but she still held the receiver to her ear. "Yes, this is an emergency. I'd like to report an armed robbery."
The man's panic was palpable. It tasted nasty on Haden's tongue. He darted in a wide circle around Haden, lifting up the pocket of his jacket. Haden glimpsed the outline of the gun. He could tackle him. A bullet wouldn't kill him, but it would hurt plenty. He should tackle him, hand him over to the police. He deserved it for scaring Kit like this, but the man had clearly given up on the robbery. If Haden let him be, he'd disappear, and the police wouldn't be involved.
The stranger pushed on the glass, tripped on the doorjamb, then broke into a full-blown run down the sidewalk. For a moment he pictured himself in his wolf form flying down the sidewalk, attacking the man, and ripping flesh from his ankle. Haden's nails bit into his palms as his primal urges fought with his rational mind. If only he could give into the wolf! He was God's cosmic joke ‑‑ a monster with supernatural strength and agility, too afraid of the police to act when needed. He was a coward, a fucking coward, so it was easier to stare at the windows rather than turn and face Kit.
"You could have stopped him," she said. He looked at her finally. She was still holding her finger on the phone.
"You could have called the police." He took a deep breath, trying to rein in his anger at the would-be thief and at himself. Mostly at himself. Kit's scent helped calm him. It was familiar now, though he'd only known her a few days, and it turned his focus to other things, like whether the stranger had spoiled their dinner plans.
"How do you know I didn't?"
He gestured to the finger Kit had used to disconnect the call. It hadn't moved.
"Well, you didn't want me to." She blinked a moment, then gasped, letting her finger fall from the phone. The dial tone burst out of the receiver.
Haden narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?"
"Nothing." She glanced at the cash register, at the wall, at the door. "You just looked like...I don't know. He was harmless. I don't think the gun was loaded."
"Did you even see a gun?"
Finally she looked at him again. "He waved it for a minute."
Haden shook his head. "Then why didn't you just give him the money? Whatever's in that drawer isn't worth your life, is it?"
"I wasn't really scared."
"Yes, you were."
She set the receiver back in the cradle with shaky hands and took a deep breath. "Yes, I was. Can you lock the front door, please?"
He went over and turned the deadbolt and slipped the top lock in place. "How about your backdoor?"
"That's locked, and the alarm is set. I always leave it that way, since I usually go out the front."
"It was damn foolish to challenge him that way, even with me standing here. I wouldn't have been able to stop a bullet."
"He wasn't going to shoot anyone," Kit insisted, as if she had a crystal ball. "He was just feeling desperate. His daughter is sick, and he has bills to pay."
"He told you that?" She'd taken the time to chat with the guy?
She hesitated and glanced beyond his shoulder. Her scent shifted. She was about to tell him a lie. "Yes."
Was she making up the story to justify letting the man escape? Haden shook his head. If she wanted to believe the man had a reason for threatening her life, he wouldn't disillusion her.
He worked at ignoring the ridiculing voice in his head, the one that laughed sarcastically at his feeble attempt to protect Kit. Anyone walking into the store at the right time would've surprised the man enough to give up his game. Haden had had nothing to do with it, really, and to salt the wound, he'd let him get away. He didn't deserve Kit or any other woman. Involving her in his life would end badly. Either she'd end up hurt when she found out his secrets, or worse, she'd end up dead.
Well, maybe she'd changed her mind. "Are you still up for dinner?"
Relief filled Kit's eyes. "Oh, yes...but will you stay with me while I close out everything? I'm still a bit shaky."
"Sure thing." At least he could do that without screwing up.
\*
Kit pulled the money drawer from its nest after shutting down the computer, sucking in deep breaths and ordering her clamoring heart to slow down. She flipped on the answering machine, then carried the drawer to the back of the store. She was extremely conscious of Haden following behind her, silent, strong, with roiling emotions indicated by jumbled images in his head. The blonde woman had been in his thoughts for a moment, but was quickly replaced by an empty bed, king-size, then a dingy jail cell. Then a flash of Kit's ass as she walked in front of him. She would've liked him to linger and expand on that one, but then he went back to picturing the robber as he trotted across the parking lot.
Shoving open the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY with her shoulder, Kitty gratefully made way for Haden, no matter what his state of mind. It didn't matter that she knew the thief's gun had had no bullets; she was still terrified that he would return. And it wasn't even about the money ‑‑ though she needed every cent of it ‑‑ it was about the violation. A needy man could ask her for money and she'd give it, but taking it by force, that was something else altogether.
Haden remained silent as Kit counted the cash and locked it up in the small floor safe. She'd do the deposit in the morning. She didn't feel like risking it tonight, no matter that the bank was only a few doors down.
She found that she liked Haden's silence. He was still thinking, of course. That was something no one in the human race seemed able to stop themselves from doing, but since his thoughts came to her as pictures, and most of those pictures had to do with beating the strange man to a bloody pulp to protect her, she felt comforted. Some of the images had to do with flashing blue lights and Haden locked up in handcuffs. Memories? Fear? The outcome of beating the man to a bloody pulp? Kit couldn't tell, but she was also determined not to pry. It wasn't right to invade his privacy. And she certainly didn't want to mention her gift/curse this early in the relationship, if ever. So she let the images float around her brain and mix with her own scattered thoughts, while she concentrated on the evening paperwork.
Finally, she locked the account ledgers in her desk drawer and faced the stewing man.
Haden dragged himself away from his thoughts and smiled gently. "Ready? I don't know about you, but I'm starved."
"Hmm, I think my stomach's calm enough now to eat." They stood at the same time, and their elbows touched in the small space that was crowded with boxes of inventory and bathroom supplies. Kitty felt a zap of arousal, and suddenly, she found herself anticipating the evening again. "Can we get into the pub through the back?"
"Yep." Haden reached into his front pocket and pulled out his store key. "Ready when you are."
Haden exited first, so she could reset the alarm and relock the door. Then they walked the few short feet to the pub's rear entrance. He opened the door and gallantly waited for Kit to enter before he followed her inside.
"Would you like the grand tour?"
"I'd love it." Kit's voice came out huskily because she could feel the heat from his body, just behind her in the dark delivery area. For a moment she didn't move, allowing him to take a step closer, to actually touch her back. He slid his hand up her arm, warming every inch of skin, stopping at her shoulder. She listened to his breathing close to her ear as her heart accelerated. He paused, too ‑‑ tempted, she thought. Then he stepped around her.
"Follow me." They left behind stacked crates and empty trashcans. "As you see, this is the kitchen." A stainless steel stove, two sinks, a freezer, dishwasher, and cabinets filled the space lit by half the bank of fluorescent lights. One door to the right was open and gave Kit a peek of brimming pantry shelves. The other door was closed, but she guessed it led to an office area. She'd worked in her share of restaurants before she bought her store, and the layout was always similar.
"Very nice. Looks squeaky clean and professional."
"But hopefully from this weekend on, it will look busy and messy." He pictured the scene of his grand opening in his mind.
"Not too messy. I will not accept a new roach population moving in."
He grinned. "You'd have no qualms about calling the health department, would you?"
"None at all."
"Hah! Well, I'll be sure to not give you cause."
Placing his hand on the small of Kit's back, he guided her through swinging doors into a space fronted by a long counter and backed by shelves stocked with glasses and bottles of all shapes and sizes. Heat from his palm sizzled up her spine, as if he were an energy healer and she the patient. Her mind filled with an image of Haden's hand sliding lower and cupping her ass, admiring its curve and give, sliding lower still, pushing into the hot space between her thighs, curving his fingertips up and pressing into the dampness...
Haden's thoughts easily morphed into Kit's fantasies until she couldn't tell which were which.
"The bar." Haden's voice caught, and he cleared his throat. "Can I get you a drink, madam?"
"Oui, monsieur. What's the house specialty?" There was so much electricity in the air that Kit could barely breathe. She bit her lip and willed her body to remain calm. It didn't want to. It was sensitized to every breath of air, every change in temperature, and it ached down low, longing to be touched and filled, and not just by questing fingers.
Haden coughed once more. "Ah, since this is a pub, I recommend either a pint of Guinness or an Irish Rickey."
"I'll be brave and try an Irish Rickey."
"Excellent choice." Haden pulled out a highball glass, added some ice, then chopped a lime in two on the cutting block. He squeezed juice from half the lime over the ice, squirted in some carbonated water, and ended with a generous amount of whiskey. "A quick stir and voila!" He handed her the glass.
She sipped the drink cautiously. "Excellent!" Liquid warmth traveled down her throat to her stomach.
Haden smiled before filling a pint of Guinness for himself. The images in his head reflected her smile and the swell of her breasts, making her wish she'd had time to change into something besides her store polo. Especially when he pictured wrapping his arms about her waist and grinding his body against her ass. The image grew in dimension until she felt like she was inside his body, enjoying the friction on his erection as it moved against her ass. The pressure was maddening, arousing him even more because their clothes were in the way. He held her in place with his arm, so his skin would brush against the bottom of her breasts. None of this was enough. He wanted more.
Kit's nipples responded to Haden's lusty thoughts and the flaming whiskey.
He sipped the Guinness again and said, "One final part of the tour, madam."
He lifted the counter divider so she could follow him into the dining area, and she found herself staring at his backside, thinking about reaching around him to rub his shaft through his pants and rubbing her breasts up and down on his back. It took some effort to pull her eyes away as he spread his arms wide and said, "Here is Blackie's Pub."
Every wood surface gleamed. Low-light sconces accented the thick dark beams against the pale walls. Paintings of foxhunts and horse races hung at various intervals, all in heavy wood frames. Occasionally a horse bridle, riding crop, or antique Guinness sign adorned the walls. The whole effect was warm, cozy, and overwhelmingly masculine. She could see men coming here after work, unwinding with a beer before heading home to their wives. There was a tiny alcove with a raised platform that seemed to be a stage.
"What goes there?"
Images popped into his mind before he answered, so she knew what he was going to say. "A singer or two, probably acoustic, maybe with a guitar or accordion. Anything more than that would be too much since the place is so small."
Kit took another sip of her drink. She could sense his pride. It was in his face and his stance as well as in his mind. It helped soften the blow from when she'd first met him and he'd thought about taking over her store. She wouldn't let him do that, of course. But she understood his pride of ownership, that feeling of accomplishing something that others would hopefully enjoy.
"Haden, this place is gorgeous. I really think it's going to be very successful." And she was torn about her own hopes for the place. Would its success mean more customers for her? Or just chaos and noise pollution and drunks? She had to remind herself that change was a way of life ‑‑ she'd studied the Tao Te Ching in college, and this was one of its basic ideas ‑‑ and that change could be very good. For example, here she was, standing in a dimly lit restaurant with the sexiest man she'd ever met. They were clothed now, later they could be naked.
Oh, yes, change could be very good.
Except sometimes change made you end up in a mental institution.
"Thank you. I hope so." Haden gestured to a table in the center of the dining room set with two plates, silverware, and white cloth napkins. "Your chair, madam." He pulled the rustic straight-backed chair out for her, and once she sat, helped her push it into place. He leaned in and lit the candle with a lighter. "One moment."
The curtains were drawn at the front of the pub, hiding the parking lot from view. They'd been drawn all week, and before that, newspaper and bags had covered the plate glass. This week BLACKIE'S PUB had been hand stenciled onto the front windows and the door glass, and a sign that matched the style of the shopping center had been added to the awning out front.
Haden returned with an open bottle of Chardonnay perched within a bucket of ice. He added two wineglasses to the table, but set the bucket on the adjacent table.
"On the menu this evening is seared filet mignon coated with Blackie's secret rub, plus a side of sautéed vegetables and roasted new potatoes. Does that sound to your liking, madam?"
"Indeed it does, sir."
"Please excuse me while I cook this up for you." Ooh, a man who could cook...every woman's dream!
Haden disappeared into the back. Suddenly, music floated through speakers in the ceiling. It was Celtic New Age music, light and romantic. Kit heard clanking, followed by sizzling from the kitchen. Soon the smell of cooking beef wafted toward her. Heavenly. Her mouth watered. She sat with her hands in her lap, feeling a bit nervous. Her thighs flexed together, and she stroked one thumb with the other. Haden's waiter act was cute, but it also left her wondering about how he acted in other situations. Did he have a family? She hadn't caught anyone in his thoughts other than that blonde woman, and who was she exactly? Past or present? Fantasy or real? Hopefully Kit could get him to open up during their meal.
Her mind slipped to Fergus. She'd all but forgotten about her poor dog. The Golden Retriever was used to long evenings alone. A couple of neighbor girls let him out in the afternoon and took him for a walk. She sometimes felt guilty owning a dog when she worked such long hours, but Fergie had been with her for several years now. He was so sweet, so beautiful, and the one creature whose mind she couldn't read. And because of his size, she felt safer living alone, despite the fact that he wouldn't kill a flea on his back.
What could she say to Haden to get the conversation rolling when he brought the food? She could ask him if he had a pet or liked pets or whatever. Dog or cat person? She hated this awkwardness. If she could just focus on the horniness and skip right to some kissing, she'd be happy. More than kissing ‑‑ skip to the two of them getting naked on the floor. Yeah, that would work.
\*
Haden decided to cook the meat a bit more thoroughly than he liked it. Some women got turned off by rare beef, and that certainly wasn't his goal tonight.
It should be your goal, dumb ass. He wished his rational mind were a person, so he could tell it to go screw itself.
He flipped the beef. Everything was sizzling nicely and smelling good enough to make his stomach growl and his mouth water. The filets should be melt-in-her-mouth tender.
Melt in her mouth...Haden's thoughts thankfully veered off course. Melting in her mouth. Her mouth on him, first his lips where they could share the taste of wine, then his chin where his five o'clock shadow would abrade her tongue. The curly hairs on his chest would tickle her nose as her mouth explored his nipples and his navel, before moving lower, still circling the head of his hard cock, taking it deep against her soft and melting throat.
Great, he was going to burn their dinner if he wasn't careful. He was glad she was in the other room for the moment and not watching him cook. Too distracting.
Forcing his thoughts onto another tack, he wondered what they should talk about. Their businesses, sure. The more he knew about hers, the easier it would be to acquire it.
Oh, man! You are scum of the earth, standing here imagining her sucking you off while you plot to take over her store space.
Well, one didn't necessarily have to do with the other. He hadn't expected to like the owner of the DVD store. He'd expected the owner to be a man, or part of a chain, or at the very least, someone older.
He could look at taking over the space on the far side, but the fabric store had been in the shopping center for twenty years, according to the owners. He could see where ousting them would cause a lot more ruffled feathers.
Since when have you cared about that?
Well, it was good business to take the most tactful approach possible, but it wasn't always possible. Maybe instead of expanding this store, he should consider multiple locations. More capital outlay. Business decisions had to be made with the bottom line in mind, not with his cock.
He tapped the beef. Just the right consistency. He didn't need to slice it open. He knew exactly how much pink remained within. Pink within. Damn, all he could think about was sex tonight!
He loaded two plates with food and hurried to the dining room. He didn't want to leave his guest alone too long, and this late at night she had to be starving.
"Here you go, madam." He placed the plate in front of her and noted that she'd laid the napkin across her lap. Before sitting, he poured them each a glass of wine. Once he did sit down, he had the urge to howl. The woman was yummy. Her eyes glittered in the candlelight as she sipped the wine. And that vanilla scent, it carried even over the beef. It was like he was hyper attuned to it. He wanted to gobble the steak in one piece, forget dessert, and get right down to the seduction.
The lady would not likely be impressed.
She cleared her throat. "It looks delicious." She cut a forkful, ate it, and a low moan escaped her throat. "Oh, this is heavenly."
He grinned. "My chef's an even better cook than I am."
"I'm going to grow so fat having this place next to the store."
"Then it will be a mutually beneficial relationship."
Her eyes narrowed for a moment, but then they crinkled with her smile. Hmm. What had she been thinking?
After a few moments of silent eating, she said, "So, are you a dog person or a cat person?"
He nearly choked. "Oh, a dog person, definitely."
Her smile widened. "Excellent! I have a dog named Fergus."
"What breed?"
"Fergus is a Golden Retriever."
"Those are beautiful dogs."
"Yes. Do you have a dog?"
In a manner of speaking. "No. I'm never around enough to deal with a pet." What would Kit's reaction be if he explained it all right here and now? Best case scenario, she'd avoid him like the plague. Worst case? She'd have him committed.
Kit sighed. "Yes, I'm neglecting Fergie. I'm usually home by now. I just feel safer with him around, you know."
"So you live alone, other than Fergus?"
"Yes. I shared an apartment with some college friends for quite a while, but last summer, when I turned thirty, I decided it was time to act like an adult, so I bought a house."
"You turned thirty?" He studied her face, making his doubt plain.
"Thanks for the compliment, but it's true."
The corners of his lips quirked up. "Well, you're holding up amazingly well for your age."
She threw her napkin at him. "Fiend!"
He caught the napkin and laughed. "I think you may have lost something." When he reached across the table to return her cloth, a light blush shaded her cheeks, and their fingers brushed.
"What about family? Are you from here originally?" Kit asked, smoothing the napkin on her thighs.
Haden's smile froze in place. He hated the family question. He pictured the only mother and father he'd known in his mind's eye, but they weren't his real family. He knew that now. He loved them, but he resented the secret they'd hid from him for so long.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."
He shook his head. "It's okay. I was adopted, is all. My adopted parents were wonderful, but I guess I still haven't gotten over them not telling me until I was an adult, and by then, I already knew."
"How old were you when you found out?"
Unbidden, his mind produced a memory of looking at himself in the bathroom mirror as hair grew instantly on his chin and cheeks, nose and forehead. He'd been petrified, though he'd sensed the change coming on ever since the onset of puberty. His teeth would grow wicked sharp once a month, and his voice would get odd and scratchy. He'd catch himself sort of growling at people. And he'd crave raw meat. The image in the mirror had not stopped with hair. His teeth had grown pointed, and his nose had elongated. Just as that had happened, he'd dropped to the ground on all fours.
"I suspected when I turned sixteen." He tried to shake the image. "But my parents didn't admit it until I was in my twenties. We were a don't-ask-don't-tell family."
Kit's eyes widened. Then she started coughing, really coughing. Her face turned red and her eyes watered.
"Kit, are you all right? Are you choking? Do you need the Heimlich?"
She shook her head and held up a hand indicating that she was okay.
Oh, my God, oh, my God! What was that? What was in his mind? He turned into a dog, a wolf. Was that real? Had that really happened? Kit focused on Haden's face. He was looking at her with concern, reaching across the table to pat her on the back. Clean shaven. No extra hair. No long fangs.
Of course it wasn't real, you dolt! She'd seen something from a movie, a fantasy in his mind. Nothing else made sense. Or maybe it was her brain. Maybe she was having a nervous breakdown after reading all these minds.
"Kit, are you okay?"
She stopped coughing as she slowly sipped some water. Okay, she was feeling calmer. Haden's thoughts reflected her and nothing else. "I'm okay. Something went down the wrong pipe, I guess."
They both paused for a moment. Kit's breathing returned to normal. She took a larger-than-usual swig of wine to calm herself further. Ah, much better, and Haden's view of her assured her that she didn't look the worse for wear.
"Are you up for dessert, then?" he asked, concerned. "Or would you like me to take you home?"
She smiled, hoping she looked reassuring. "You'll make me fat yet. Is it chocolate cake?"
He pictured something before he spoke, and she knew she wanted it, although it wasn't exactly "dessert." He had her naked on a bed with his hands between her thighs, tracing slowly higher from behind her knees to her heated center. His lips surrounded one nipple as he thought, Tasty. He was imagining his fingers slipping inside her vagina and how she'd moan as he switched to the other nipple and sucked it in deeply.
Holy shit!
"Alas, the workers ate the chocolate cake today, so for dessert, crème brûlée. Will that suffice?" And how did he manage to keep track of the conversation with those movies in his mind?
To hell with crème brûlée ‑‑ she wanted his hands touching her the way they were in his mind. She wanted to rip the buttons off his shirt and push the thing away so she could lick the curls on his chest and trace the outline of his lean muscles. Her panties were so wet now that she was embarrassed, but that wetness meant that his shaft would ease right into her, widening her passage, making her feel so good.
Her nipples strained against her bra, itchy, hot, and hard. She clenched her thighs together again and swallowed.
"Crème brûlée sounds delicious." She hoped the gruffness of her voice wasn't giving away the state of her body. The lighting was dim. That had to help things. Then again, maybe she wanted him to know how aroused she was. She certainly wanted to yell, "Take me!" and only years of social inhibitions prevented her from doing so.
Haden clenched his hands into fists and concentrated on not stalking, not growling, and not grabbing Kit up and throwing her across the table so he could strip her naked and fuck her. None of those things were appropriate, but goddamn, he could smell her arousal as clear as day. The musky odor from her pussy juices nearly had him losing all control. He could clearly see the state of her tits, standing erect, demanding he suck them, to hell with her bra and shirt. When she licked along her lower lip, it didn't matter that he knew she did it unconsciously. It felt like an invitation. He wanted to replace her tongue with his own, eat her up, devour her. He wanted to lift her face-forward onto the counter, spread her wide, and plunge his dick into her hard, until he found relief.
Unfortunately, she'd asked for the crème brûlée instead.
He closed his eyes the minute he reached the kitchen and sucked in lots of air. Holy shit! He was losing control here. It was still a couple weeks until the full moon, so why was he going so nuts? He'd just met the woman. She wasn't dressed like a slut or anything. She was in a store uniform, totally boring, but every cell in him wanted to take her, claim her, right then. And he wanted to be rough with her. Could she take it? Could she handle him taking her from behind, doggy-style? He wanted to find out. She appeared petite, but she'd remained calm and sensible when faced with a man with a gun. Somehow Haden knew she could handle it rough and hot.
Was there something more to this than simple attraction?
His cock strained against his jeans, feeling way too full and heavy. In fact, it was almost painful.
"Crème brûlée, crème brûlée." He repeated it like a mantra, hoping that would calm him down and keep him on task. He found the sugar-crusted dessert in the fridge. He refused to believe that this instant lust had anything to do with his beast. He'd been abstinent too long, too focused on opening the pub, so it was lust, pure and simple. And keeping it simple was the key.
Haden stopped by the bar, desserts in hand, and added a swirl of amaretto to the top of each for a little extra flavor and a couple of maraschino cherries. Staring at the cherries for far too long, he pictured Kit's mouth sucking each fruit from its stem, her mouth closing around the redness, holding it in place, her tongue licking the syrup from her lips.
Ugh, there was no way he was going to make it through this evening without taking her.
Haden had gone to the kitchen, gotten dessert, and he still had that erotic movie playing in his head. Kit could scream, but then she spotted the sugary crust on the top of the crème brûlée, her absolute favorite dessert, and she was momentarily distracted. His lustful thoughts added a hint of spice as she dug into the creamy dessert and slipped it into her mouth to savor. She spotted the crestfallen look on Haden's face. Tee-hee. He'd hoped she'd want to skip dessert and move onto other things, perhaps? Never! And the crème brûlée was awesome. Incredible. Better than sex. Well, it depended on who she was having sex with. Better than most sex.
The amaretto coated her tongue with its sweet nuttiness. The cherries had probably been recently picked, since it was prime season for them in Virginia. They were sweet and juicy, with just a hint of tartness. She didn't even care that the juice dribbled onto her chin. She licked it off quickly and barely resisted licking the bowl clean when she was done.
And Haden's tongue was practically hanging out of his mouth as he watched her eat. He'd barely touched his dessert, so Kit wrestled with whether she wanted to appear piggish on a first date, if it could even be called that. Screw it! Something that good could not be left to go to waste.
"Are you going to eat that?" She gestured to his bowl.
"No, it's all yours." He passed it to her, eyes wide with wonder as she continued to eat in a near orgasmic state.
"So, you like crème brûlée, huh?"
She just grunted since her mouth was full. She'd be more concerned about the impression she was making if she didn't have clear access to his thoughts, which were totally focused on the movements of her tongue on the spoon.
The minute she set her spoon down, his thoughts leapt back to his earlier fantasy of throwing her onto a table. For a moment, they both stared without really seeing each other, caught up in the force of Haden's fantasy. It was crazy. Since Kit had discovered her telepathy, she'd never experienced anything as intense and prolonged as this. In fact, she'd avoided this sort of contact with anyone but her close friends and employees. And since they were usually thinking about their own lives and not about stripping her naked and fucking her, she'd never had to hide her reaction.
At this point, she couldn't hide it. She could only hope he wouldn't notice her slightly open mouth and flushed cheeks. Her heart was thumping like a drum circle, and she alternated between holding her breath and panting like a dog faced with a ham bone.
She peered down at the glasses on the table. There was still a bit of the whiskey left, so she downed that to calm herself, and then as if on cue, Haden poured her a new glass of wine.
"Are you trying to get me drunk?"
"Maybe." Hell, yes.
Kit grinned foolishly. "That was the best damn crème brûlée I've ever had in my entire life."
"I will be sure to have some on hand every day, then, just so I can have the pleasure of watching you eat it."
She downed the glass of wine, too, a little too quickly. A headache waiting to happen, but that was something to worry about later. Right now she wanted to loosen up so she could get laid.
"So what about your family?" Haden asked, again clearing his throat. "I don't think you've told me anything about you."
Kit could still feel the burn of the alcohol in her stomach. "My dad and mom live in town, over on Southside actually, and I have a brother at MIT and a sister who's married in Texas. She has three kids."
"Wow, big family."
"It's a nice size. And spread out enough that I can see them frequently, but not too frequently, if you know what I mean."
"I understand."
Haden poured her more wine, which she immediately sipped. She was starting to feel pleasantly fuzzy of brain.
"Do your parents work?"
"My father works at DuPont. Mom retired early from Phillip Morris."
"So you've lived in Richmond your whole life?"
"Pretty much. I think we lived in Tidewater for a couple of years when I was little. Dad was in the Navy at the time, but then we moved to Richmond and have been here ever since. Where are you from exactly? You have an accent."
"I was born in the Las Vegas area actually." He paused, but the picture in his mind wasn't of Las Vegas. It was of rolling hills, blooming dogwoods, and Colonial-style buildings that reminded Kit of Virginia. Did Las Vegas have dogwoods? Haden's memory then flowed to a place where the rolling hills were similar, but the architecture included thatched roofs and castle ruins. "But I lived in Ireland for several years, from when I was eighteen. Seems that was a good age to assimilate the accent, and I haven't quite been able to shake it since I moved back. Helps me with the ladies."
"I bet." She blinked slowly as if she were a dreamy-eyed girl charmed by his brogue. Of course, she was a dreamy-eyed girl charmed by his brogue. She finished her wine and wondered how many she'd had.
A sad puppy face floated into Haden's thoughts. "I hate to bring this up, but I'm suddenly feeling guilty about your dog."
"Oh, Fergie. I love Fergie!" She realized she'd said that last bit with a little too much gush. She should be going before she did something really foolish. She stood up.
Too late. The minute she stood, the alcohol rushed to her head, despite the big meal and two crème brûlées. She swayed and reached a hand toward her head, but missed.
"Oops." She tried to touch her nose and nearly poked her eye out. "Oshiiit."
The image in Haden's mind was of holding a girl with black-and-white skunk hair and a rim of ear piercings over a toilet. Not her. Must be a memory. "Exactly. I take it you don't drink much." Haden grabbed her elbow to prevent her from making any further attempts at blindness.
"Nevuh." She had drunk quite a bit in college, but she was an old maid now. No need to drink, just binge on Ben & Jerry's.
"Well, madam. This is a full-service restaurant that provides door-to-door service for its patrons. If you'll take my arm." He offered his elbow gallantly.
Kit looked at his elbow and wondered what it was for. He looked like a duck holding it out like that. She blinked and swayed again.
"Oh, forget it. Don't fall down while I grab my keys." He reached behind the bar, then placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a guiding push toward the kitchen. Once at the back door, he set his alarm system, locked the door, then guided her to a strange car. She only tripped twice on the cracked asphalt.
"That's not my car," Kit slurred.
"I know that. I'm driving you home."
Wait. Something was wrong with that idea. "But then how will I get to work in the morning?"
"I'll pick you up, but I bet you anything you'll be calling in sick."
"I can't call in sick. I'm the owner."
"Just get in." He pushed her to the passenger side and opened the door. He even leaned over to buckle her up like a child. What gall! Of course, she would have forgotten if he hadn't.
"This is a Jag," she said inanely.
"Yes, it is."
"The seats are leather."
"Yes, they are." He grinned and shut the door so he could circle around to the driver's side.
Haden turned the key in the ignition, and the Jag roared to life before settling into a quiet purr. Kit purred right along with it, closing her eyes and sinking into the cushy leather seats.
"Kitty."
"Hmm?"
"You have to tell me where you live if you want me to take you home." He guided the car behind the shopping center until they reached Patterson Avenue.
Kit noticed that the voices and images in her head had blurred somewhat. She still registered Haden's thoughts, but they weren't overwhelming. He was trying to remember exactly how much she'd drunk and wondering why brushing her thighs to reach the seat buckle had him hard all over again.
Kit managed to give her address. Maybe not a good idea to give her address to a stranger, but Haden wasn't a stranger, was he? Yes, he was picturing doing naughty things to her, but they were nice things, things she would very much enjoy him doing.
"Feel free," she told him.
"Feel free what?"
"To have your way with me."
He turned to look at her so quickly that he accidentally jerked the steering wheel in the same direction. It was late at night with no other traffic on the road, so no harm done. He corrected his steering, but his eyes were wide. He chuckled.
"Now that I wouldn't mind, but I think you're a bit too toasted for me to take advantage of."
"What if I want to be taken advantage of?"
"How about we wait until at least the second date?"
"Was this the first date?"
He paused to think about it. "I asked you out, I prepared, we had food. Yes, that counts as a date. What do you think?"
"Wonderful. I haven't been out on a date in too long." She slapped her hand over her mouth a bit harder than she intended. Ow.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, still cupping her palm over her mouth.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and Kit admired his lashes, long, thick. Really too nice for a man.
"So why haven't you been on a date in a while? You're a very attractive woman."
She lowered her hands to her lap, feeling as if they floated through ether. "Thank you. I work too much, and I'm an old maid now." She resisted the urge to slap her hand over her mouth again. Just give it up. You're drunk, and you're going to say stupid things.
"Who told you you're an old maid?"
"Everyone knows if you're thirty and unmarried, you should hang up your stockings. Give it up. No chance."
"That's an old-fashioned way of looking at things, don't you think? Especially when so many people get married for the second or third time at that age."
"But I've never been married."
The hum of the car over asphalt distracted Kit for a moment, until Haden said, "Nor have I."
Overcome with sympathy and alcohol, she reached over and covered his hand, which rested on his jeans-clad thigh. He looked startled as she squeezed his fingers consolingly.
Haden barely saw the road as his body heated from the mere touch of Kitty's hand on his leg. She was quite amusing in her inebriated state and no less sexy. Perhaps more sexy, because he knew how easy it would be to coax her into bed. The problem was that she was beyond tipsy, which meant she was off-limits to him once he got her home. He didn't want to seduce her tonight and have her regret it in the morning. Damn his morals.
He hadn't recognized the address other than to note that it was in the West End. He'd explored Richmond some when he'd scouted locations for his restaurant, but it would take a while to get familiar with the whole city.
"Have you lived here long?" he asked.
"I think it's been a year now, but I never seem to be home. And when I am, I'm amazingly boring."
"I doubt that."
"I am. It's like the store consumes me." She sighed heavily. "I need to get a life."
Well, he could hand her one, one she definitely wouldn't want. A relationship with him was likely to make her long for boring once again.
Guiding the car into her driveway a few minutes later, Haden noticed that she had one of the ever-present pineapple welcome flags on her front lawn. If there was one thing about Richmond that drove him nuts, it was those damn flags everywhere. He looked at Kit, who snoozed with her head cradled against her hands to keep it from jouncing against the window. She had a cute nose with a light dusting of freckles. Her plentiful eyelashes rested against her rosy cheeks, while her lush lips were slightly open, inviting exploration of her mouth.
He'd have to wake her to get her key, but he thought it would be fun to carry her up the front walk just to feel her body against his chest. He repositioned her before he got out of the car, so he could open the passenger-side door without her falling to the concrete drive. Then he scooped the sleeping lady and her purse into his arms and kicked the door closed. Her soft, full bottom hung down between his arms and pressed against his stomach. Her hair splayed across his shoulders and chest. The scent of vanilla and a citrusy shampoo assailed his nostrils.
Striding up the walk, he noted three terracotta pots half filled with dirt on the steps. The outside light came on as he reached the porch. It was obviously controlled by a motion sensor. The door was a dark brown with an understated brass knocker and a white button for the doorbell.
Haden paused and kissed the tip of Kit's nose to wake her, his lips grazing her pearl-soft skin. However, he'd underestimated the power of an alcohol-induced doze. She didn't wake up, so he scattered kisses along her cheeks and eyelids, enjoying the tickle of her lashes and the scent of vanilla that clung to each part of her face. Her lips curved into a smile, and she squirmed a bit in his arms as if settling into a dream, but she didn't open her eyes.
Well, damn, he was about to say to hell with his good intentions.
He unhooked the magnetic clasp of her purse. The key chain poked out of one of the pockets next to her cell phone, so he looped his fingers around it and pulled it out. Good God, she had a zillion keys! And the keychains! Every shape and size: a miniature flip-flop from the Bahamas, a bright pink plastic stiletto with a fur pom-pom on the heel, a laminated photo of her dog, and a pewter oval from Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.
"Girl, don't you want to wake up and tell me which key to use?" he whispered. Then he took a final drastic measure. He kissed her soft, warm lips, a light press that grew firmer. She moaned in response, sending a shiver through his body straight to his semi-stiff cock.
Leaning his shoulder against the doorjamb, Haden tightened his grip on the sexy lush, almost dropping the keys in the process. Her lips tasted like wine and cream. With his tongue, he traced the seam of her mouth and gently prodded her lips open so he could delve inside the wet cave. Exploring lazily, he tasted teeth, tongue, and gums. She purred like a cat while her hands gripped his neck tighter and tighter.
She had to be awake now, but Haden's eyes were closed and he didn't want to end this probing kiss. It had been a long time since he'd tasted a woman like this, gently and thoroughly. His hands itched to touch the soft mounds pressed into his chest, but they were too busy holding his bundle aloft. She squirmed against him, and he adjusted his stance as her tongue joined the dance, diving into his mouth and titillating the nerve endings within.
One sensation came to the fore ‑‑ hunger. He couldn't get enough of her intoxicating taste, her smell, her feel. He growled deep in his throat, then opened his mouth wider and pushed his tongue deeper. He needed more.
It was actually only the frantic barking and scratching of a dog on the other side of the door that had Kit turning her face away. At first, Haden merely moved his kisses to her cheek, her jaw, her neck. Finally he realized he had to stop and lifted his head to look down into Kit's open eyes.
She was frowning at the door. "Fergus! Poor boy! He's probably peed all over the carpet by now." A blush painted Kit's cheeks and neck.
Haden laughed, handing her the cluster of keys and almost dropping her in the process. "If you could help me with this, I'd be happy to put the dog out of his misery."
"You can put me down. I'm sure I'll be fine."
"No, I've come this far, might as well take you the rest of the way in."
Kit's insides melted like butter as she soaked in Haden's grin and fumbled with the keys. His broad chest warmed her shoulder, but her butt felt huge, hanging as it did between his arms. He wasn't even grunting with the effort.
Oh, my God! He had kissed her like they could've had sex right on the porch. Had she ever been kissed so deeply before, like her partner was exploring every part of her mouth? She hadn't wanted him to stop, despite the slight dizziness she was starting to feel, but Fergie's barking had broken her concentration.
She jiggled the keys, taking longer than necessary to find the right one. She really ought to purge her keychain, but that was never high on her priority list.
"Ah, this one." She handed the correct key to Haden. He was about to carry her over the threshold into her house. Wow. If only she had a gold band on her finger to go along with this fantasy come true. She closed her eyes for just a moment to picture Haden in a tux, bow tie undone about his neck, white satin hanging over his arm as he carried her inside.
She opened her eyes, feeling the familiar knot in her stomach, a dream unfulfilled.
Haden poked the key into the lock and pushed against the door. Once the door was open, he carried Kit into the house, greeted by Fergie's ferocious barking.
Kit peered around Haden's bicep at her ballistic dog. He rarely growled, unless in the presence of another dog. "Geez, Fergie, I wasn't gone that long!" She glanced at the kissable chin above her and sighed. "Maybe you should put me down. He might think you're hurting me or something. Calm down, Fergie. This is a nice man. Friend." She used her high-pitched, happy voice, but the dog's hair remained stick straight on his back.
Haden planted Kit on her feet, and the moment she was upright the room swam in front of her. She swayed, but Haden held her with a steadying hand on her elbow as she staggered to the sofa, the dog doing a crouch-shuffle to follow while maintaining a safe distance.
Haden patted Kit's shoulder while staring down her dog. "I think some coffee might be in order for you." He met her eyes, peering at her like a doctor with a light stick ‑‑ whatever those things were called. "You really don't drink much, do you?"
"Not anymore." She leaned back on her comfy plaid couch cushions and closed her eyes. Nope, not better, because then the world spun very fast. She pried her lids open with her fingers. "Maybe I should just drink until I pass out again and be done with it. None of this in-between bullshit."
Haden grinned. God, he had a heavenly grin! She could gobble it up like the crème brûlée. And boy, had she been a pig tonight or what? No dainty bites for her. Gluttony ‑‑ one of the seven deadly sins.
But then she had a flashback moment, recalling Haden's lips on hers while his arms had cradled her tight. "Mm. Come here." She crooked her finger with a not-so-steady outstretched arm. "I want to kiss you again."
He approached eagerly, but Fergie took up his growling crusade with even more gusto. Kit leaned forward and patted his furry brow, then gasped. "I haven't let him out yet. That must be his deal."
Haden frowned at the dog. "I can do it. Out back?"
"Yes, the yard's fenced, so you can just direct him outside."
"Gotcha."
Not that the dog wanted to go with the man. In the end, Kit had to drag herself off the couch and pull the dog's collar to get him outside.
Five minutes later she found Haden in the kitchen making coffee. "Getting eccentric in his old age," she said, leaning against the counter to prevent another attack of wooziness. "Or maybe too much time alone is making him jealous when I'm here."
Haden scowled at the chili pepper mugs as he pulled them off the wood tree sitting on the counter.
"Don't like my mugs? They were a housewarming gift from my mom. She got them in Santa Fe."
He blinked, seeming to awaken from deep thought, and looked at her. "Huh? No, nothing's wrong with your mugs. Think the day is finally getting to me. It's been a long one."
Kit opened her mouth, almost blurting out what a relief it was not to read his thoughts, how the psychic connection seemed to be blurred by alcohol, but she caught herself in time. Note to self: quickest way to run off a man ‑‑ tell him you can read his mind. He'd either think she was a freak or be freaked out that she knew what was going on inside his head. Either way, not good.
Funny, she hadn't felt compelled to tell anyone her secret since she'd left the hospital. Must be the alcohol.
Fergie's howling made her jump, so she rushed to let him in. Then the annoying hound went right back to crouching and growling at Haden.
The accused man handed her a steaming cup of coffee. "I think I'd better go."
Eek! She couldn't let the evening end like this, with her mangy dog running off the sexiest man she'd kissed in decades...or ever. "Oh, just ignore him. He's never attacked anyone in his life."
Sounding distant, Haden said, "But it's late, and you need some sleep." He headed toward the door before she could stop him. "I'll be here by nine tomorrow. Is that early enough?"
"Huh? Why are you coming here?" For sex? Please say you're coming by for sex. Better yet, stay. We can screw while the dog's barking, not a problem, really. Gee, was she desperate or what?
"To drive you to work, remember? Your car..."
"Oh, yeah. Okay, nine's good. You sure this won't mess you up? I can call a cab."
"No problem at all. See you then." And he disappeared! Just like that, out the door, leaving Kit disconcerted and ready to have the SPCA pick up a now homeless dog.
The evening had gone so well, but she'd stupidly drunk too much and now he thought she was an idiot. She sighed and sat on the kitchen floor, placing the untouched mug of coffee next to her and pulling Fergie in for a hug.
"What's the matter with you, dog? Don't tell me Haden's a jerk, because I really like him. You're just going to have to get over yourself."
The dog panted, as she scratched his neck and under his ears, but he didn't illuminate what he sensed about Haden that she didn't. Usually she was the one who knew everything about a person, but not this time.
\*
The dog knew, of course. They could always smell the beast in him. Usually they cowered and slunk away with whimpers, but Fergie had felt it necessary to protect his mistress. A very good dog indeed, but it only served to remind Haden that he couldn't let this thing with Kit go any further, no matter what his libido insinuated. He could pick up an anonymous woman in a bar and have a one-night stand if he wanted to satisfy his lust, but messing with the owner of the store he planned to take over was just asking for trouble. And he couldn't afford to get too close to any of the people he saw day in and out, because the closer he got to them, the easier it would be for them to key in on his secrets. If he kept his distance, hopefully they'd be too wrapped up in their own lives to question his occasional eccentricities.
But damn, hours after leaving Kit's house, he still lay awake with a semierect cock, longing for release. She was funny and sexy...and normal. With her, he could almost believe that a normal life might be possible for him. Almost. But Fergus had reminded him that he'd never lead a normal life. The best he could hope for was maintaining the status quo.
When the alarm went off at seven, he smacked it, then again at seven-fifteen and seven-thirty. For once, thinking about opening his pub could not chase away his melancholy. Status quo. Was that all he had to live for? Shit. Maybe he should head to Canada and hole up in the Arctic. Maybe then the were side of him could live a full life.
He didn't make it into the shower until eight forty-five, and that was when he finally remembered that he was supposed to pick Kit up for work.
"Oh, I'm in deep shit." He toweled dry and shaved quickly, hoping that Kit had a bit of a hangover and was running as late as he was.
No such luck. She was tapping her foot at the front door, purse hanging from her shoulder and keys in the door lock when he arrived.
"I'm sorry. Overslept."
"Gee, and nothing even happened last night to give you a good excuse."
Haden sniffed the morning air and learned the truth. Kit might be standing outside looking like she was raring to go, but she was really dealing with a queasy stomach. Hungover. "Well, actually I expected you to be out of it this morning, so I wanted to give you a few extra minutes."
"I told you I needed to get to the store. I'm the only one with the keys."
"Don't worry. Plenty of time."
She nearly growled at him. "Easy for you to say. I open at ten."
"Plenty of time," he assured her again. He grinned as he opened the passenger-side door, ever gallant, but it was an evil grin. As he slid into his seat, he turned the key and tapped the gas pedal.
And they were off.
"Good God, slow down!"
He knew that would get her. He whipped down the residential road doing fifty, something he wouldn't have dared if he had normal human hearing and sight, but with his were senses he could spot any pedestrian or car with plenty of time to maneuver around them. He glanced at Kit. "Hmm, you seem to be turning a bit green."
"I take it back...I take it back, goddamn it. I don't care when we get there, just get me there alive."
"Oh, you will be."
"And not crippled!"
He actually did slow down once he hit Parham Road, not because of Kit's pleas, but because he couldn't afford to be spotted by a cop. Just thinking about the tenuous thread his new life hung on made him want to growl. He wished he could blame Leslie, but the only person he could blame was her unknown killer, a killer he was determined to find...someday.
\*
Angelica Meyerton loved the first moment after Richard blindfolded her. Let the fun begin. From the second she lost her sight, all of her other senses became heightened. Her ordinary life dropped away, and she focused on the sensual experience of being touched and controlled. Of losing control.
Richard's body heated her back, her thighs, her ass, as he gave a last tug on the black cloth. A shiver of excitement traveled through her, and his whisper tickled her ear. "Bend over. The bed's right in front of you."
She obeyed, falling into space, landing softly on her stomach, the mattress giving beneath her weight. Silk sheets cradled her cheek. Cream already soaked her panties.
Richard was younger than she was and so strong, sculpted, from hours at a gym. He'd told her he was a grad student at the University of Richmond. Law, he'd said, like his daddy.
Angelica smelled his cologne as he leaned over her to ease her panties over her hips and down her thighs. She wriggled with excitement, anticipating the first slap. Would he use his palm? A paddle? A whip? She listened for his breath to tell her where he was. He undid her bra next and slipped that out from under her, careful not to touch any other part of her body. The longer he made her wait, the more her ass heated. She was sure it was rosy by now, and she hadn't been "punished" yet.
Their games had grown cautiously. He'd tested the waters on their first night together, asking if she'd mind wearing a fuzzy pair of handcuffs, the kind found in a novelty store. She'd agreed. They'd fucked with her wrists restrained by the cuffs and the brass headboard. His cock had been so huge, ramming inside her. She'd screamed and writhed. The next morning she'd had bruises on her wrists, but instead of being embarrassed, she'd gotten a secret thrill every time she'd looked at them.
But handcuffs hadn't been enough.
Since that first night with Richard, she had developed a taste for the kinkier side of sex.
And now she could never say no. Why couldn't she say no? Sometimes imagining how far she could go with Richard scared her, so she usually tried not to think about it. Unless she wanted to get off. Then she'd relive all of the horrible, wonderful things he made her do.
Angelica wriggled her butt, conscious of the bed under her and the man behind her. "Touch me, honey."
"Silence. Patience."
"But I'm so hot for you." And thinking about all the things he could and probably would do to her made her even hotter.
"Are you asking for a more severe punishment?" Richard asked in the stern voice she loved so much.
"If you think I need it, Master."
He inhaled quickly, the only sign that this excited him. "I do."
She listened as he walked around the bed. He pulled her arms out and wrapped rope around her wrists, one loop, two, tighten. Then he pulled until her arms were as stretched above her head as they could go. She heard him change positions and tried to move her arms. He'd tied them to the frame of the bed, she surmised. Silence. Where was he? His leg grazed her thigh, so he was behind her again.
Richard always stayed fully clothed until he was ready to enter her. He said that made it more erotic for him, and at first she'd hated it, because she couldn't get her hands on him fast enough. Now she anticipated each brush of fabric, a reminder that she was the vulnerable one.
Drawing his hands down her hips to her inner thighs, Richard eased her legs wider. With her arms held fast by the other side of the bed, her position started to feel very awkward. Wider and wider. He lifted one ankle up, looped a rope around it and tied it, then moved to the other side. She felt like an inverted T with her legs even with the edge of the bed. Her nether lips were open to the air, her pussy pulsing.
She was still aroused, but sometimes it crossed her mind that he got too elaborate. She wanted to please him, and when he tied her like this, she couldn't even touch him, so what did he get out of it?
Patience, he always told her. He wanted her this way. It did please him very much.
And when he did tie her up, he often shoved his cock in her mouth, deep and fast, then they both got off. He'd make sure she swallowed his cum, and then he'd have her lick him clean. That was fine, as long as he didn't forget about her and leave her tied. She didn't like that as much, but she'd learned not to complain, or he'd ask her if she wanted to leave him and find a tamer man. The thought of losing him washed her discontent away. She'd happily stay restrained for days, if that's what it took to keep him.
In fact, the thought of him leaving her filled her with a panicky desperation.
At long last, Angelica discovered Richard's plan for tonight as a sex toy roared to life. It was loud, and she felt the vibrations before it even touched her skin. Richard shoved the thick fake cock into her very exposed hole. He didn't check to see if she was wet or if the cock was too big, just slammed it hard.
"Ah!"
It was wide, cold, and stiff, but it quickly warmed. Her juices slicked its sides, and her vagina eased around it.
"Mmm. Nice." She would've liked feeling it on her clit, too, but she didn't dare ask.
"I have one more treat for you," Richard murmured, as if he were talking to himself. She heard a squirt that had to come from a lube tube. Then something touched her ass. It was cold, hard, and vibrating too.
"What are you doing? You know I don't like ‑‑"
He slid his hand over her mouth. "You're going to like this." He took the vibrator away from her ass, thank God. "Open your mouth."
She did, and he slipped a ball inside, an uncomfortably large ball that tasted like rubber. The ball had some kind of restraint attached, because she felt it around her head. Now she couldn't talk, couldn't move, and a touch of fear skittered through her stomach. Suddenly she felt like she couldn't breathe. She lifted her head awkwardly, trying to see where Richard was, wanting to meet his eyes, but he'd moved behind her again.
She fought to calm herself. Could she say she wasn't enjoying this complete loss of power? Despite the panic, her body ached from extreme arousal. If he'd spank her too, she'd be in heaven, but spanking wasn't on the agenda. Instead, the cold vibrator once again touched her ass. The lube made it slide past her cheeks easily, and soon Richard was moving it around to penetrate her second hole. She moaned as her body heated even more, partially from arousal, but also from embarrassment. She always felt mortified at the thought of having something in her ass.
And Richard was teaching her to never be ashamed of any part of her body. It was there to serve him. And everything he did was for their mutual pleasure.
But she was so afraid it would hurt.
"That's your punishment," he whispered as he pushed the vibrator in deeper. She realized it was no thicker than a finger. It made her feel uncomfortable and full, especially since there was just a thin membrane between it and the vibrator in her vagina, but it didn't hurt. Once she relaxed, it even started to feel good.
As she lay there helpless and exposed, Richard leaned in close to tell her about another assignment he had for her.
\*
Haden greeted the tall, slim woman with a handshake and gestured for her to sit in the green chair in front of his desk. He then seated himself in a stout leather chair and glanced down at her resume while sniffing the air unobtrusively. She was the last person lined up to interview for the position of assistant manager, the person who would potentially be his right hand. More than that during the nights of the full moon. He would need to have implicit trust in his assistant manager, since he would be completely unavailable should disaster befall his pub. This person had to be confident, capable, and qualified, with a background in restaurant management. He'd received a glut of resumes when he'd posted his ad in the paper weeks ago, but he'd quickly narrowed it down to ten, and this was interview number ten.
Damn, was he just being too picky?
The woman didn't nervously launch into speech while waiting for him, which he admired. Her two-page resume showed both loyalty ‑‑ she didn't jump from job to job ‑‑ and flexibility. She'd managed a hotel restaurant, a hamburger joint, and a Ruth's Chris. Nice. She'd included letters of recommendation, which he'd already followed up on. So far the perfect candidate.
But her scent was...off.
His wolf senses allowed him to read people through their physiology. He could hear a person's heart race, smell the sweat of fear, and taste the almost metallic tang of anger. There were many signs for the different emotions, but he couldn't quite pin this one down. He sensed that she was confident about the interview and her job qualifications, but there was something...something like desperation. Not overt, though, not like the man who'd tried to rob Kit last night. This was subtle. And there was something familiar about her smell, too, but he couldn't place it.
Haden wanted to tell her to leave right then, but she was the last candidate. He needed to train someone immediately so they'd be secure in their post by the full moon.
Maybe he was relying too much on his were senses and not enough on his human ones.
"May I call you Angelica?" he asked, glancing up at the woman at last.
"That's fine."
"You went to school at the University of Maryland?"
"Yes, I graduated cum laude."
"Excellent." He launched into the prescribed interview questions and sensed her relaxing. She was used to this process. What did that say about her? Did it mean she'd been on far too many interviews recently?
"Most importantly," Haden went on, "there will be times when I'm out of town and out of touch. Blackie's assistant manager must be able to handle the pub on his or her own, whatever problem may arise ‑‑ could you do that?"
"Definitely." She smiled. She was sexy, and for a moment he smelled a whiff of arousal, but it was rapidly quashed. Funny that she didn't do it for him the way Kit did. That petite, spunky woman had him longing for a free week to spend in bed. This woman might be fun for a one-night stand, but nothing more.
Then he pinpointed what it was about her that was bothering him. She reminded him of Leslie: blonde hair, though Angelica's had a silky sheen; high cheekbones heavily rouged; worldly blue eyes.
He breathed an inner sigh of relief. That was it. His were senses were playing tricks on him. He could ignore her similarities to Leslie as long as she showed up for work on time and stayed late if needed.
He leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. "Angelica, normally I'd request a second interview, but I've already checked your references, and I'm convinced you're the right person for the job. So if you're interested, you've got it."
Her luminous smile transformed her face from jaded to carefree. "Thank you so much! I'll take the job. Thanks!"
Haden paused, taken aback by her sudden eagerness, like she'd been holding herself in check. He sniffed the air again and again smelled that something off. Maybe it was him. At this point, he was the desperate one, desperate to get this show on the road. And it wasn't like there was a contract involved. If in the end she didn't work out, he could always fire her.
The Friday night opening tested Kit's nerves.
"Grr," she said when she bumped into Gina once again. Gina's short black hair, pinned back with a dozen tiny barrettes, was poking up in odd places, and her face was flushed. They had two full carts of returns waiting to be shelved, and no time to shelve them. The customers had taken to simply grabbing what they wanted off the carts, whether they'd been checked back in or not. She'd caught a little boy shoplifting some gummies, and something had popped the circuit breaker, causing her computers to shut down mid-transaction. She'd heard raucous yelling from the pub when the lights went out. But then the blasting music had pulsed through the wall again as power returned. The voices crescendoed, and Kit sighed. It only took her five minutes to reboot the computers and another five to complete the transaction for an impatient customer.
But at least business was brisk. It was early evening yet. A radio van with squawking DJs and a TV truck were parked out front. Extension cords crisscrossed the sidewalk. She'd peeked outside when she'd heard the sexy tones of Haden's voice. Someone from the radio held a mike in his face, asking him bland questions to which Haden had responded with his characteristic sexy brogue. He was a natural salesman, making a simple restaurant opening sound like an event. When he'd noticed Kit hanging out the door, he'd winked in her direction before refocusing on the reporter, never losing the conversational flow. There wasn't going to be a woman in Richmond not in love with the sound of his voice.
Interesting that he'd refused to be interviewed on camera, though.
An hour later, Kit's head throbbed. Maybe the stress was making it harder for her to adjust to the mental din as she usually did on busy nights. Every person who walked within a few feet of her had his or her own little monologue going on. Gina's one-track mind was on her boyfriend. Customer number five zillion and one wanted a comedy, but they all sucked and nothing was in, and why did he come to this rinky-dink store, anyway? Customer five zillion and three couldn't believe the line for the pub zigzagged to the end of the shopping center, and she only prayed the little vibrating thing had enough signal strength to tell her when her table was ready.
The pub had pagers? Wow, Kit was impressed, but she had no time to linger over the feeling as another half dozen customers filtered in.
"Gawd, is this night ever going to end?" Gina asked. "I was hoping you'd be able to send me home early."
"Me too. Picture your paycheck swelling."
"Picture Roger swelling."
"Eeww! I did not need to hear that!"
Finally the line outside the pub dwindled, the reporters left, and most of the people were inside eating while listening to an Irish folk singer that Kit could hear plain as day through the paper-thin wall. The DVD cases rattled from the volume. Charlotte from the fabric store had come over after her store closed with a notice that she was calling a shop owner meeting about the noise. But...the movie store was finally calm. Not long now and she could close up shop and go home and get some needed sleep.
Or not.
Haden dashed in at five minutes to eleven. The images of stuffed cash drawers and long customer lines in his head clued Kit in to his identity even before she turned around from her shelving duties to face him.
She smiled and hoped it didn't look like a grimace. "I see you're quite pleased with yourself, aren't you?"
His grin stretched from ear to ear. "The place is packed...still. We were on the six o'clock news, and they said they'd run the spot again on the eleven o'clock broadcast." He clapped his hands together. "Free publicity ‑‑ what could be better than that?"
"A good food review?" Kit suggested, wondering if one of the many diners had been from the paper or Style Weekly.
Gina popped her head around the corner. She'd been restocking the shelves along the back wall. Now her eyes widened, and she fanned herself vigorously, pretending to swoon. Kit resisted the urge to tell her to get back to work, since that would draw Haden's attention to the girl's antics.
"So why'd you leave the scene of your success?" Kit asked.
"To invite you to the after-after party."
"After-after?"
"The party we can't start until the last customer officially leaves. Not sure how late that might be, but you're welcome to come over and hang out in the bar after you close until that time. If you'd like."
Thoughts of her soft bed and cuddly dog flitted through her mind, but then Haden started doing the erotic-mind-movie thing again, and she found herself nodding despite an impending yawn.
Haden whipped his head around and pinned Gina mid-hand-gesture, her many rings glinting in the store lights. "You're invited too. Any employees. Of course, if you're underage, no drinking."
The girl blushed beet red, but quickly recovered. "Thanks, but my honey's expecting me as soon as we close up."
"Invite him along if you like. But if not, I better let you get back to it." He returned his gaze to Kit and his eyes darkened. "But you'll be there?"
She nodded again, then followed him like a docile puppy so she could lock the deadbolt and flip the door sign after he left.
"That man should be on the catwalk," Gina whispered. "Or on one of those box covers in the back room."
"Heaven forbid," Kit said. She didn't want strange men and women ogling him, just her. "Well, you got your wish."
"He's a porn star?"
Kit rolled her eyes. "No, you get to go home early. I'll handle everything from here." Since Matt hadn't been scheduled to close, he'd already split.
"There's a lot to do."
"But it looks like I'll be sticking around late, so I'll have plenty of time to do it."
"Then I'll leave before you change your mind." She winked.
"You do that."
The girl knew not to look a gift horse in the mouth. She hit the time clock and grabbed her purse and skedaddled. Kit turned off the lights in the front half of the store and rolled the returns box into place, wishing she could shake the uneasiness that had haunted her since the attempted holdup the other night. She hated that one person could change her enjoyment of being alone in her store. It wasn't fair, but then, life rarely was.
\*
Haden knew he shouldn't have lied. Well, he hadn't lied exactly, just stretched the truth. The word "party" hadn't been entirely accurate. Yes, he'd promised a round of drinks to his employees after they'd completed their tasks for the night, but that was the extent of it. But he was so psyched, so high on the success of the pub's first night he didn't want to be alone. More than that, he needed to do something. Do someone, maybe.
What happened to swearing off women, H-man?
He would ask himself that, then go right back to thinking about Kit and her drugging scent. He smelled her arousal every time he was in the room with her. Yeah, he got that from other women, even when it was focused on someone other than him. The drinks had flowed, so now the smell of raging hormones, male and female, permeated the pub's air, but the scent wasn't sweet, not shooting directly at him like Kit's.
Where was she, anyway? It was a full hour past her close. She hadn't chickened out, had she? Or decided she was too tired? She had looked a bit tired earlier.
Haden drew the singer aside. "Time to say good night."
The singer nodded and let the crowd know this would be his last song. The room seemed quiet once the music stopped, but the patrons kept chatting and laughing. Haden visited each table and turned on the charm. He wanted them to remember this as a place to come back to, a place that made them feel warm and satisfied.
Finally Kit snaked her way in through the tables and up to the bar. Her scent wafted across the room, even though Haden's back was to her. She smelled fresher. When he turned, he realized she'd changed clothes. She wore a low-cut flowing top of greens and blues over faded jeans. Nice. Sexy. Emilio, his bartender, slid a drink across the counter to her. Haden sniffed again. An Irish Rickey. He smiled.
"So you finally made it," he said, laying his hand on her back.
She jumped. "Geesh, don't sneak up like that! I decided to go home for a few minutes first, let Fergie out."
"Good idea."
"Crowd's not dwindled much, I see." She leaned forward giving him an enticing view of cleavage as her lips turned up flirtatiously.
"Not much, but I'm hoping the lack of music will entice them to leave soon."
"But not leaving means more money."
"Only if they're still buying and not just talking." He sat down on the stool next to her. "How was your store tonight?"
"Hopping! Crazy."
"That's good, right?" He was happy for her, even though that went against his original plan.
"Very good," Kit agreed. "I needed a night like that. The money will allow me to increase orders on new releases this month, so thanks. I don't know that all the shop owners were as pleased, though."
"Really?"
She frowned, creating the tiniest crease in her brow, and nodded. "Yeah, I doubt the pub generated much rollover business for the fabric store."
Haden scratched his chin. "But I would think all this exposure for the shopping center will eventually trickle down to all the merchants." But if some of the merchants couldn't hack it, well, that might make it easier for him to obtain space. The fabric store would be perfect if he wanted to get something going with Kit.
The lady's frown turned into a scowl, and her scent changed. She'd been excited and a little turned on, but now... "Probably, but...well, did you know Charlotte's called a shop owner meeting?" she said, sounding concerned. But then, why did she smell...annoyed?
Haden touched her arm. "She brought an envelope by, but I haven't had a chance to read it. Why don't you try your drink before all the ice melts?"
She ignored the drink and turned the stool so that she could put her foot on the floor. "You might want to spend some time cozying up to Charlotte and the other owners like you have me. I see none of them are here."
"You're not leaving already, are you?" Was she good friends with Charlotte? What had he said to piss her off?
"It's late, and I think you have a lot left to do tonight."
"Kit, I'm sorry if I'm disturbing the peace around here. I really do think it will help the shopping center overall, though. I mean, don't you agree?" He slid his hand down to her elbow and caught a shiver. She was definitely into him, but she was loyal, too. "I'll do whatever I can to help everybody. Maybe we can run group ads or something."
Her eyes met his, fierce. "Will you do everything you can?"
"Of course. It's only good business."
"Sometimes 'good business' and ethics don't always go together, though, do they?"
He pulled his hand back and stood. What did she mean by that? Did this have to do with his past? He shook himself. Of course not. Charlotte must've lit into him behind his back.
Emilio tapped the bar, pulling Haden from his confusion. He looked at the young man as he pointed at a nearby table. "They're asking for you."
"Ah." Haden smiled at the patrons who were waving him over. Well, Kit would have to decide whether to stay or go on her own, and if she left, he'd have to try to iron things out with her tomorrow. Damn. That wasn't his plan for the night at all.
The all-time worst thing about her gift was that she couldn't explain to people that she reacted in a certain way because she was responding to their thoughts and not their words or actions. Kit settled back onto the stool, staring after Haden as she sipped her drink. She'd caught his thought about expanding the pub into Charlotte's store space, and since Kit liked Charlotte and knew how long the fabric store had been open, she'd stood up for her. Only, Haden hadn't known it. He thought her vehemence came out of left field. So now she felt stupid and confused.
She wanted to stay. She'd been so excited about it, about the possibility of more kisses, more erotic musings. Did Haden's plans to expand the pub make him a villain? Worse, was he inviting her to the party to ensure she didn't complain about him to management? And how wrong was it that she still wanted to jump his bones whether he was an unscrupulous business guy or not?
Very wrong. But still she sat there, watching him work his way around the room again as more and more patrons stood to leave. He shook hands and laughed and basically charmed the socks off of them. The Irish Rickey was good. She was shocked to realize it was gone when her straw made that unseemly sucking sound. The bartender, a twenty-something Hispanic man with the tiniest mustache on his upper lip and stylishly trimmed sideburns, slipped her a full drink before she even asked for it. His thoughts ping-ponged from aching feet to his girl waiting at home to what alcohol would need restocking in the morning.
"I'm Emilio, by the way," he said when he caught her looking at him.
"Hi, Emilio. I'm Kitty."
He grinned and seemed about to say more, but then switched to frantic swabbing of the counter. Kit knew from his thoughts that the "boss man" was coming up behind her.
"And we are closed," Haden announced, his voice booming enough to make her jump again, even though she knew he was right behind her.
"Damn, stop doing that!"
Two men in white popped out of the kitchen. "Thank God!" one of them proclaimed, pulling his hairnet off and rubbing his face.
"Kitty, these guys are my cooks, obviously. Chef Dan and Ezekiel."
"Just call me Zeke," the second guy whispered.
"Did Emilio introduce himself?" Haden went on, gesturing at the barman.
"Yes, he did."
More folks poured out of the back. Haden explained that he'd only worked one waitress tonight so he could give the evening that ultra-personal touch. Three guys and an older lady worked in the back bussing, washing dishes, stocking, and whatnot. Kit greeted them all and tried to remember their names. She was sure to see them around. Maybe they'd even become her customers.
Last, a blonde woman came through the swinging doors, but she was different from the rest. She wasn't covered with food slop and didn't smell like grease. She wore a tight black skirt and wraparound silk blouse, gold loop earrings, and a pearl necklace. She walked up to Haden, took both his hands and squeezed them. "Success!"
Who the hell was she?
Haden dropped the woman's hands, but then he put an arm on her shoulder to turn her toward Kit. "This is my assistant manager, Angelica Meyerton."
"Nice to meet you," Kit said automatically.
"And this is?" Angelica mewed, glancing sideways at her boss.
"Kitty Lazarus owns the rental store next door. You two will probably run into each other a lot."
"Nice to meet you." But her thoughts were clear as day. Why is she here? None of the other shop owners are here. Why did he single her out?
Valid questions, Kit realized. She'd kind of expected Kyle and Linda to be here at least. But, truthfully, she knew that other things were on Haden's mind, and those very same things were on her mind. Like, how soon could they get rid of everyone else and strip naked?
But, yowza, Angelica was not liking Kit's presence! Her face said, I am calm, I am serene, but her thoughts were all about getting Kit out of here now, sending her back to her little hidey hole, and how Haden could even look at someone so short and fat and...
Kit's eyes widened. Did Haden have something going with his assistant manager, or was it all in the catty lady's imagination? Had he led her on somehow?
Haden was busy instructing everyone on clean up and shutdown and his plan for the next day, oblivious to the byplay between the two women. Kit once again made a move for her purse, ready to leave, since this couldn't be a good idea. Unfortunately, Haden somehow managed to snag her arm without attracting the staff's attention. Except for Angelica. That lady's eyes narrowed immediately. Be calm, Angel-darling. She's not stealing Richard from you. That's all that matters.
And, for the first time in four years, Kit was shocked by an image in someone's mind. It wasn't even an image. It was the sensation of a satin blindfold and a hot hand spanking her, a startling combination of pain, helplessness, and pleasure.
Whack! Bent over knees, rear sticking in the air ‑‑ easy access, thong pushed down her thighs, bare breasts tickled by air and the fabric of his pants. Whack! Anticipation. Liquid rushing down her thighs. "Harder, please." A scream or a whisper, all the same. And another solid swat...
"I need to sit down," Kit whispered to Haden so he'd let her make a move without tightening his hold on her arm. She plopped onto the barstool and focused on Emilio. His thoughts were simple, easy to understand, and not saturated with unfamiliar sensations. Safe. But her skin burned, and she couldn't cool down.
Haden leaned over to her. "Are you okay?"
"Long day on my feet." She fanned herself with a drink napkin. Angelica's erotic memory disturbed her, but it tantalized her as well, and she couldn't get it out of her mind.
\*
Finally, Haden and Kit found themselves alone in the restaurant. Haden had been amazed when Kit had pitched in to help clear plates and straighten chairs, since she'd already spent a long day working in her own store. None of his employees had lingered over champagne, simply because they were exhausted. Despite his strong "encouragement" to stay, he'd half expected Kitty to leave before they were done with the closing tasks, especially when she'd sat down so suddenly after meeting Angelica. Maybe Kit's female intuition had picked up on the same thing he'd smelled. If so, not good. It gave him the sinking suspicion that he should keep looking for a better assistant. But there was hardly any time to place another ad and go through another set of resumes and interviews, much less train someone enough to run the place in his absence. Short of burning the place down, how bad could it get with Angelica in charge?
Immediately a montage of restaurant horror stories ran through his head: roaches, locked restaurant, burnt food, dirty place settings.
Kitty, sitting silently next to him at the bar, placed her hand on his arm. "You did it. Now relax before you have to do it all over again...later today."
"Oh, God, what time is it?"
Kitty glanced at her watch. "Two thirty-three. That clean up actually could have taken much longer. Champagne must be a good motivator."
"And I let some of the restocking slide until tomorrow...today...whatever it is." He turned his head and propped his cheek on his palm. "So..."
She smiled. "So..."
"Fergus?"
"I called Marsha to dog-sit." She blushed a little.
"Really?" Suddenly Haden felt quite revived. "Have I met Marsha?"
"She's not an employee, so I don't think you've met her yet. She's in a lot, though, so you probably will at some point."
"So..." How to proposition a woman after the fairly unromantic experience of cleaning a restaurant? "Would you like to come to my place for a nightcap?"
"If nightcap means alcohol and then I have to drive home, no."
"What if nightcap means alcohol and you can sleep over?"
She blushed and grinned at the same time, an amazing feat. Her scent intoxicated him. He leaned in and kissed her, wrapping his fingers behind her head to draw her closer. Her lips were soft, pliable, willing. He eased them open gradually until he could slip his tongue between. She was about to fall off the stool, though, so he stood up and moved between her legs to steady her.
Yeah, to steady her. Nothing to do with moving closer to her hot body so he could press his raging hard-on against her. Nothing at all. He snuggled his hips home between her thighs.
"Um," she moaned or hummed or purred. Haden knew the sound meant pleasure, and it tickled his lips and tongue. He slipped his thumb to the curve just below her jaw to feel the vibrations as he delved deeper into her mouth, allowing their tongues to dance and their lips to play. The silk of her hair flowed around his fingers, while her breasts pressed against his chest. She tasted like whiskey and smelled like rich caramel.
Allowing his mouth to move away from her moist lips, he licked her chin with quick flicks of his tongue, then her jaw, up to an inviting earlobe. He tasted along the edge and she gasped, then he nibbled it gently before layering quick kisses on the skin just behind her ear.
"Um." Her legs rose, circling his thighs, brushing against his ass, inviting him to grind into her. Once she had her lower body settled, she began distracting him by letting her fingers drift up and down his spine. And that scent, so delectable, making him hungry. Had she dabbed caramel on her neck? He decided to kiss along her throat in search of the source.
He lifted his head for just a moment to murmur, "And you put on this pretty blouse for me?"
Her hands had untucked his shirt and were now sliding it up his back, bunching it so that her fingers could reach bare skin. "Sometimes I want to wear something besides the store uniform," she whispered, her voice catching as he nipped her jaw again. She stroked his back, tracing the ridges in his spine, following the line of his ribs, then dipping under the waistband of his pants.
All at once he wanted to howl. He squeezed his eyes closed and held his breath. Calm, remain calm. You won't make it to a bed at this rate.
Ohmanohman. It had been so long since she'd touched someone this way. Warm skin, hot lips tasting her neck, hands pulling her closer and closer. She kneaded the tight muscles in his back, so strong, then let her hands drift higher, where she measured the breadth of his back. He was so big, and his skin was warm and smooth and enticing.
She slid her hands down his back, along his pants, to his ass. She couldn't resist urging him closer. Her core was aching to feel his hardness rubbing against her. Then there was the thrill of not really knowing him. Haden was an unknown quantity, someone to explore both physically and intellectually. Someone to be truly intimate with.
Intimacy would be so nice, especially if it meant she could reveal her secret to him. His caresses felt so good that she immediately began fantasizing about telling him, about him nodding his head in understanding. His mind was full of indistinct sexual sensations, like a montage of images of her naked, of him thrusting in and out, of her going down on him, but it was all blended into a haze of arousal.
As he coaxed her blouse higher and cupped the side of her breast, she imagined waking up in his arms and looking into his eyes to see complete understanding. She even pictured his slipping a diamond ring onto her left hand.
Bah! You can enjoy his body without losing your common sense!
He slid his thumb under her bra and tweaked her nipple. She moaned, but the voice grew stronger. Man, she hated that voice that always reigned in her heart. She just wanted to feel accepted for who she was ‑‑ was that too much to ask?
Yes!
Distracted by the impossibilities, she sighed against Haden's lips and pulled back.
"What's wrong? That wasn't exactly a sound of pleasure."
"Um, this barstool's not the most comfortable..." She slowly straightened her legs, her feet trailing along the back of his thighs while her hands slipped down his chest. She didn't want to break contact.
"Of course." He caught her gaze, judging her emotions. "I'm a cad." He ran a hand over his forehead. "Let's head to my place, if that's still okay. I'd like to take a shower so I can get rid of the smell of grease."
She smiled in agreement, then punched his shoulder jokingly. "Dude, you better get to like the scent of grease. I have the feeling you're going to smell it a lot."
He sighed. "Guess I should have thought of that, huh?"
\*
Haden told Kit his address, but then let her follow him in her car. His brick rancher was small compared to most of the houses on River Road, but the lot was a very nice size, with a tree-lined drive and a split-rail fence lit by petite solar lanterns. The drive ended in a circle near the front door with a lighted fountain in the center. Wall-mounted spotlights shone on the cobbled circle.
"I like the setup," Kit said once she stepped out of her car. She locked the door by force of habit, but kept her keychain in hand. She was suddenly feeling nervous and rubbing the pom-pom seemed to help.
"Thanks. I lucked out, since most of the houses 'round here are beyond my budget." He gestured to the street at large. "This was built in the twenties, but not remodeled since the seventies, judging by the brown and orange hues that fill my living room. I did take down the mirror over the bed and the disco ball."
"Eek, I'm a little afraid to go inside now." Actually it wasn't the thought of the décor that scared her; it was the implicit agreement she was making by entering a man's home at this time of night.
He grinned, showing lots of teeth. "I'll make it worth your while. I promise."
That's what I'm worried about. She had no doubt sex with Haden would be mind-blowing, but then what? They barely knew each other. Did sex equal a relationship or a one-night stand nowadays? And what did she want it to mean?
Despite her doubts, Kit followed Haden inside. The foyer displayed an abundance of gilt, on the mirrors, on the trim of the side table, threaded into the wallpaper. To the left she spotted a room done in paneling.
"Keep in mind, seventies, not my aesthetic," Haden whispered in her ear, sending tingles down the back of her neck.
Kit tried not to shiver. "Are you sure? Maybe you're a closet retro."
With his arm across her shoulders, he swung her around to look at the room to the right. Some kind of psychedelic chessboard covered the walls. "This isn't retro. This is just bad."
Kit laughed. She had to agree.
"But I'm sure that's why I got such a good price."
"Very shrewd of you, because with this address, this house will be a good investment."
Haden nodded as he guided her farther down the hall. "I have managed to redo two rooms since I've moved in."
"Do tell."
Grinning, he gestured her through time into the kitchen. Instead of olive green and mustard yellow, she now faced a Food Network set: gleaming steel appliances, copper pans hanging from a ceiling rack, a deep sink with a tall faucet and sprayer system, and a center island topped in granite.
"Very nice," she said as she noticed a short wine cooler and a bar set.
"Drink?"
"Yes, please." She supposed she ought to put her keys away before he sensed her panic, which for the past five minutes had so occupied her that she hadn't picked up Haden's thoughts at all. She took a deep breath, dropped the keys in her purse, and set it on the counter.
"So you're going to stay?"
"Um..."
"Just kidding. I'd noticed you were gripping your keys awfully tight." His fingers brushed her chin, tipped her face to his. "Seriously, though, a few drinks at my home does not mean you have to say yes to anything."
"I know."
"Good. Now, did I tell you that I tended bar through college? So what say you to a chocolate martini?"
"Like I said, you're going to make me so fat."
"I'll take that as a yes."
"So what's the other room that you've remodeled?" Kit asked as Haden poured vodka and crème de cacao in a shaker with ice.
"The bedroom, of course. There was no way in hell I was going to get any sleep with red and white stripes on the walls and mirrors overhead. Plus, there was this bizarre black-and-white mural on the wall near the bathroom. Too Age of Aquarius for me."
"I can't even imagine." Since she'd finally started to relax, she picked up Haden's memory plain as day. Ew, now she could imagine and wished she could forget.
He poured the chilled alcohol into martini glasses and plopped a Hershey's kiss in the bottom of hers.
"If you can bear the walls, let's go in and sit on the couch."
\*
Richard Langtree the Third sliced the silk rope with his Damascus blade. Angelica was being a good girl with the ball gag in her mouth and ropes around her arms from her shoulders to her elbows. He was experimenting with design, and the crisscross pattern accentuated his angel's beautiful breasts and flat stomach. He hadn't blindfolded her this time so she could watch the flash of steel with nervous eyes. He listened to the snick of the blade as he cut another length of rope, relishing her occasional whimpers.
She'd started a bit of a scene earlier, protesting the ball gag, but then he'd asked her if she wanted out of his life. Did she want him to leave without looking back? She'd told him no and had burst into tears. He'd reminded her that he needed a woman who fulfilled his needs, a woman who would submit. Was she that woman? She'd nodded and put the red ball in her mouth before stepping free of her thong.
The bed provided a suitable work surface. He'd tied her ankles to a notched broom handle to keep her legs spread wide. He knew his angel well. She'd get bored if he only concentrated on his art, so he played between her legs with his fingers, his tongue, and sometimes with the large black vibrator. She'd tasted like honey at first, then rubber after he'd fucked her with the vibrator. Her cream had saturated the lifelike cock as it filled her hole, and she'd moaned and wriggled in satisfaction. But then he pulled it out so he could get back to his work. Her satisfaction was not his focus.
Ropes and knots. Binding her fascinated him. It was a new thing for him. Before he'd met Angelica, he'd been more into whips and paddles. His former girlfriend Janie had enjoyed the beatings for a while, willingly bending over the coffee table as he caned her, but then she'd started to get whiny, said he only wanted to hurt her, that it was supposed to be about the sex. He'd quickly lost interest in Janie. He kept those tools in his repertoire, but now ropes and gags and handcuffs enticed him.
But he couldn't keep his mind focused as he looped rope from his Angel's knees to the broom, making a V. "So he's met someone, has he?" he said, returning to the conversation they'd had before he'd gagged her.
She nodded.
He closed his eyes, trying not to remember the gawky adolescent he'd been, a boy only popular because of his family's wealth and rank. A boy interested in oils, clay, and pastels. All those times he'd tried out for sports, only to disappoint his father when he didn't make the team. But dear old pop was always quick to point out that he didn't need to be athletic to be a CEO. When Richard had broached the idea of studying art in Paris or, more practically, graphic design, dear old pop had smacked him on the head. Langtrees do not draw pictures for a living!
He pushed his dad from his mind and responded to Angelica. "Interesting. And he's already told you he'll need you completely in charge of the pub during the full moon?"
Angelica nodded again.
She hadn't realized the dates represented the full moon when she'd told Richard about them, but he'd known immediately. Just as he'd known her boss's true identity the moment he'd spotted him outside the ABC liquor store. The alcohol shop was the closest to the University of Richmond and often frequented by students like himself. He'd spied on Haden ‑‑ as he called himself now ‑‑ more than once, always careful to remain upwind, but sometimes the wind shifted. He couldn't get closer without spooking him, which was why he needed his Angel.
And what luck to find Brother here at all! Why hadn't he left the country after escaping the police? That would have been the wise thing to do. Instead he'd stayed in the same state as the scene of his crime ‑‑ amazing!
"Not really his crime, though, was it?" Richard murmured, no longer thinking of Angelica as a person, but as an object. "I'd love to brag to him, but that wouldn't do at all."
And he had many things to brag about, but only one conquest would interest Brother. The rest had been mere facsimiles of Leslie, pleasant while they'd lasted, but ultimately they'd had to be sacrificed for his art. And what beautiful art!
He leaned over the bed and combed Angelica's bangs from her forehead. "I'll need you to do something for me while your boss is away." He'd been toying with a plan, but he wasn't quite sure how he wanted to implement it yet. As long as he was careful, he'd have plenty of time to do it right.
Angelica nodded obediently, so he played with her nipples, twisting them to the point of pain. When she whimpered, he soothed the pink tips with his lips and tongue, sucking them in, then biting them hard. He ran his fingers over the delicate rope design. It reminded him of his grandmother's lace. Perhaps too monochromatic against the pale flesh. He should try colored rope, blues and reds. The more the vision of his art danced in his mind's eye, the more aroused he grew.
Finally he climbed over Angelica, settling his knees in the vee he'd created between her legs. His breathing grew heavy as he examined his intricate creation and thought about how he'd changed her from something organic to a sculpture. He unzipped his slacks and pushed them down, revealing his cock. Angelica's eyes widened and crinkled. She was trying to smile but couldn't quite do it with the ball gag in her mouth.
"You want this, don't you?" he said as he stroked his length. She nodded, so he leaned in and ran the tip over the bare skin of her stomach. Whenever he grazed a rope, he moaned. Oh, yes. This was good. He wondered about binding his cock, but decided that would inhibit him too much. He'd save that for another time. Right now he wanted to fuck his sculpture.
\*
Haden felt so normal as he and Kit sipped their second martinis. It was going on four o'clock in the morning and they both had businesses to run, but he felt energized and he sensed that Kit felt the same way. She told him about her strange customers and her family, and he told her about Ireland and Las Vegas, carefully avoiding the in-between years. Their thighs touched, and he'd slung his arm on the back of the couch. By now she leaned back against him, warm, soft, and comforting, as if they were old friends. She gazed up at him, eyes crinkled and sparkling, looking delectable and happy.
Finally Haden couldn't hold out any longer. He leaned down and kissed her...on the tip of her nose. He sat back with a grin and took in her expression. He saw the humor there, but her mouth was open just the tiniest bit, and her chest moved up and down rapidly as her heartbeat sped up. Oh, yeah, hunger.
This time he made sure he kissed her lips.
The kiss raced from chaste to R-rated almost immediately, and his hands got involved, seeking the skin under her blouse as Kitty's tongue pushed toward the back of his throat. He fought to keep up with the speed of her explorations, opening his mouth wider and thrusting his tongue against hers, sucking and nipping. He spread his fingers over her ribs and savored the heat of her palms on his chest.
But it was time to adjust positions. He wanted better access than he'd had at the restaurant. Haden chuckled as he attempted to tilt Kit from vertical to horizontal without breaking their kiss. She clung to his neck and allowed him to stretch out her legs while suction held their lips together.
She pulled back. "Enough!" Giggling, she fell back to the couch cushions and kicked out her legs. "That better?"
"Much." Now he had access, but should he lie next to her or on top of her?
She tugged at his shirt. "Come here. I want to feel your weight on me."
"You'll probably change your mind about that." But he followed her command and maneuvered on top of her. He kissed her while keeping his body taut, propped away from her, but she wasn't having that. She tugged on his shirt and shoulders until he collapsed completely.
"Mm." He took that as a satisfied moan and not one of pain. Encouraged, he pressed his hips into her body. She moaned again. More importantly, she lifted her hips to help out.
Okay, Haden was heavy, but the sofa cushions beneath her were soft. Kit basked in the man's heat and weight. She was carried away by his slow, thoughtful kisses, but it was his mind that melted her, since he anticipated the rest of the evening and what they'd do once they were naked. Kit wanted to rush him along to the naked part, but he seemed quite content to nibble at her lips and delve deep into her mouth. His hard shaft rubbed her pants, which in turn rubbed her clit. Agonizing temptation! It was enough to feel good, but not to satisfy. She widened her legs to wrap around his thighs and rocked her pelvis. To keep her hands occupied, she ran them down his back until she could cup his firm ass. Now he was doing the moaning instead of her.
And the pictures in his mind! Pictures of his hand inside her panties, his fingers moving, as he watched her face for a reaction.
"Do that to me," she said.
"Do what?"
"Your hand in my pants."
He pulled back a little, his expression puzzled. "It's like you read my mind."
"Um..."
His frown turned to a grin. "But I'm happy to oblige."
He rotated off of her just enough to unsnap her jeans and pull the zipper down. She viewed her reaction through his eyes. Her mouth looked puffy and her lashes drooped low. Her cheeks were flushed and her blouse was cockeyed, but she knew he found that erotic.
She helped him wriggle her pants down her hips just enough so he could slip his hand inside the waistband of her panties. Biting her lower lip, she closed her eyes and savored the feel of his fingers slipping along her stomach, but she could still see herself as he saw her: ready for pleasure. His fingers moved through the curls on her mound and lower as his palm created a light, entrancing pressure. One of his fingers traced around her clit, slid lower through her dampness, until it circled the mouth of her vagina. She sucked in her breath and held it so that nothing distracted from the pleasure messages jetting to her brain. Oh, that felt...sinful!
"Breathe," Haden whispered, and she exhaled slowly. She supposed she'd need oxygen for her upcoming exertions.
When Haden pictured Kitty without her shirt, she slowly lifted the fabric higher and higher, opening her eyes to watch his expression as more and more skin was revealed. The fabric bunched under her arms, but she was too preoccupied with his thumb tapping her clit to bother taking it all the way off. When she could breathe again, she reached for her bra clasp between her breasts and unhooked it, brushing it away from her sensitive nipples. She saw her rosy nipples through his eyes and caught his thought: Beautiful. When he visualized her pinching her own nipples with her fingers, she gasped. He'd like that, watching her touch herself, pleasure herself? It was in his mind. She was tempted to try it out, but should she? She'd been mirroring his thoughts exactly. Would he find it too spooky if she kept doing it?
Two of Haden's fingers thrust into her vagina, distracting her. It had been a long time, and she was tight. Too tight? Kit tensed a bit, but then he poked his fingers deep and spread them apart. Oh, no, just right. They bent, thrust, and wriggled inside her, one rubbing her G-spot, a spot she'd almost forgotten she had. The pleasure fanned out, intense and deep.
Kitty gripped the couch fabric and twisted, her breath shallow and fast. "Ah, don't stop!"
"I won't."
His palm rubbed against her clit as he fucked her with his hand. She listened to the slurping sounds, thinking she should feel embarrassed, but she was too occupied by her current bliss.
Follow your bliss ‑‑ wasn't that the saying?
Why not try the nipple pinch thing? She slowly, thoughtfully caressed the undersides of her breasts with her palms, then pressed her thumb and forefinger around each nipple, squeezing and releasing. She bit her lip, stifling a gasp brought on by the instant pleasure and a sudden release of cream between her legs. Could Haden feel that? He watched her as if he'd never seen anything so erotic in his whole life, so she pinched harder and added a little twist. She couldn't contain her moan.
"How does it feel?" Haden asked, his voice ragged.
"So good." She was almost afraid to admit how good.
"It doesn't hurt when you twist them like that?"
She shook her head and did it again, wondering how to describe the sensation. "It's just short of pain. Makes it intense."
"I could watch you all night. I'm so hard." Which was obvious since his cock pushed against her thigh insistently, but instead of rushing her onto other things, he thrust his fingers deep once again.
Coming off of a moan, Kit asked, "Do you want to taste?" She lifted her breasts in offering.
"Oh, yeah."
He pushed himself down the couch a bit more, so that his cheek was on her left shoulder. She settled her breast near his mouth and watched as his tongue came out to taste the pink tip.
She reveled in the pleasure ‑‑ both his and hers ‑‑ rushing over and through her, both tactile and mental. His mouth captured the nipple completely, sucked it in, and she tasted what he was tasting, smelled her sweat and arousal in a way she'd never imagined. His teeth tapped the sides, then he sucked again, creating very intense sensations. Her body responded by tightening all the way down to her womb. Haden closed his eyes as he sucked, and she was transported into his mind, where he fought a war with patience. His tongue pressed her nipple against his teeth and licked from side to side, and she knew he was concentrating on how to move his tongue, when to suck. But he was conscious of the heaviness of his cock and how it felt each time Kit moved her thigh up or down. And, oh God, he wanted to fuck her. Concentrate on her taste: salty and sweet. He felt the beats of her heart in his mouth. Then he increased the suction, taking more of the surrounding breast into his mouth, he listened for her gasp.
Kit ran her fingers through his hair and stroked his cheek, willing him to never stop. Never, never, never stop. This was a new kind of intimacy. Instead of his thoughts intruding on her pleasure, they increased it. Her womb tightened, her vagina clenched, and she pressed her legs against the couch.
She'd never known a man to spend so much time on one breast, savoring. Words like sweet and succulent floated through his mind. Her sex smells so hot. He pictured sucking his fingers and tasting her juices. At long last, he opened his eyes and sought out the other breast. His clothed thigh crossed hers, and his cock moved up and down on her hip. Once he had the other breast in his mouth, he closed his eyes again. Kit's other arm now had more access to his back, so she stroked it, willing herself to ride the wave of pleasure and not think.
Finally he lifted his head and looked at her. "I have to taste your cunt."
A man had never used such raw words around her before, but she liked it. It fit the experience. She nodded, eager to experience what she'd been fantasizing about since she'd met him.
He yanked her pants and underwear to her knees, then pulled them off completely. He was past patience. He knelt beside the couch and used his hands to widen her legs and lift her butt as he slid her toward the edge. Then he buried his face in her curls. No tentativeness. His whole mouth, warm and wet, covered her clit, drawing a gasp from her. As his tongue swirled everywhere, her nerve endings flung "Oh, my God" signals to every part of her being.
Kit closed her eyes, completely lost in her body. She no longer saw Haden's thoughts. She didn't worry about awkwardness, ugliness, or any of the other issues that often cropped into her mind during sex. She was simply present in the pleasure. It was easy, because Haden never once seemed impatient, even in his own thoughts. His fantasies about what was to come seemed to tie into the present moment, and it all aroused him.
But the next thing he did was too much for her. With his tongue, he pressed her clit against his teeth, and her body contracted tighter and tighter. A slick texture, then something rougher ‑‑ teeth to tongue. His tongue moved left and right, harder and softer. Then there was tight, almost painful suction. She'd never had her clit sucked that way before. She pressed her palms against the couch, feeling the pleasure in her womb coil tighter until...an explosion of stars, rainbows...goddamn great fucking feeling...followed by complete relaxation.
Kitty didn't even have the strength to say thank you. She was gelatin. An amoeba.
Haden sat back and lifted his shirt over his head. He used it to clean his face and fingers. Then she noticed his shit-eating grin. "Liked that, did you?" he said, and his thoughts were smug and satisfied with his manly prowess. His thoughts were also on the extreme pain in his cock and how, if he didn't get to fuck her soon, he was going to die.
She plopped her arm off the side of the couch, amazed at her ability to lay spread out before this man while she was half clothed and gooey. "Uh-huh."
"Would you like to check out the bedroom now?"
"Uhn." Coherent words and thoughts were not possible.
"How about if I carry you?"
He didn't wait for an answer, all thoughts on what he was going to do to her on the bed as he scooped her up without a grunt ‑‑ he was an amazingly strong man ‑‑ and hauled her to the back of the house.
\*
"So what's in that room?" Kit asked once she was standing again. The velvety, taupe carpet nearly swallowed her small feet. Haden had pointed out the bathroom, noting that it, too, had been remodeled and had a whirlpool tub big enough for two. Then he'd gestured to the second door and said, "Walk-in closet. Enter at your own risk." But he'd ignored the third door, the one to the left, half hidden by a workout contraption.
"My office." His terse voice and the twitch in his eye implied that there was more to the story, though. Weird. Usually home offices were full of mundane bills, take-home work, and things to be avoided as long as possible. The image in his mind didn't clarify the eye twitch, since he was picturing a basic computer desk topped with a computer and walls covered in some kind of cushioning. Soundproofing, maybe? Perhaps he had a hobby creating techno music? If so, why be embarrassed to tell her? Maybe the music was awful.
"Okay," Kit said slowly, wondering if she should pry. Bad idea. Prying would ruin the mood, and she wanted to try out the tub. "So I could probably use a bit of washing, don't you think?"
That distracted him pronto. He grinned. "Absolutely. Wait until you see this thing. Top o' the line."
Haden tugged her into the bathroom and turned on the water. Once the tub was filled a couple of inches above the jets, he cranked them up. Steam roiled off the surface and fogged the large framed mirror over the double sinks. Kit waited for Haden to strip off his shirt before she followed suit. She resisted the urge to cross her arms over her breasts and took his hand so he could help her up the tiled steps. How she could still feel self-conscious after what they'd done on the couch, she couldn't say.
"Oh, my God, this is sensational! I want one of these at my house. I had no idea." She leaned back into a body-shaped curve and closed her eyes. Water pulsed against her lower back, under her knees, and bubbled up against the back of her neck. She was too enthralled with the tickling, throbbing sensation to pay attention to Haden, but she saw herself in his thoughts and realized he had things on his mind besides relaxing bubbles.
Skin brushed against her leg, and she opened her eyes to find Haden moving closer, a bit like Jaws. Okay, Jaws wasn't a sexy image, but Haden was. His shoulders glistened, and recessed lights along the tiled backsplash cast shadows on the hard planes of his chest. The water swirled around his waist and forearms as he leaned in to kiss her. He lingered there, slowly exploring her mouth while the bubbles tingled against her private places.
When he pulled away from her mouth, he layered kisses on her cheek and tucked wet strands of hair behind her ear so he could kiss her lobe. Then he whispered, "I want to fuck you this time."
Zings shot straight to the tips of her breasts. Oh, yeah, she wanted him inside her. In fact, his cock hid just under the surface of the water. She brought her hands together, found it, and slickly stroked it. His cock was long and heavy. She explored the silky head with one palm while caressing his balls with the other. Haden closed his eyes and relaxed more on his knees. Encouraged by the erotic images in his head, Kit leaned forward and licked a stream of water on his chest. Another drop of water shone on one of his flat nipples, so she licked that too.
"Will you suck me?" he asked, his breath hot on her ear.
"Yes."
"Lean back, get comfy."
She did, noting his shy grin. He maneuvered his body up until she had a perfect view of his shaft, of the vein that ran from tip to base, of the slight variations in skin tone. She wrapped both hands around him and guided him into her mouth. This was definitely the way to give a blowjob, Jacuzzi jets playing with her body while she played with his. Once she was comfortable with his size in her mouth, he allowed himself to thrust gently. She traced the bulge of the vein with her tongue and tasted the small slit where precum had already released.
She saw herself reflected in his mind, and her whole body loosened in response. Her mouth was wide open and accepting. When the head touched the back of her mouth, she swallowed and sucked. When he pulled back out some, she licked. He found his own rhythm, and she followed, thinking only of his pleasure, because knowing she pleased him was the strongest aphrodisiac.
He combed fingers through her hair and smoothed her brow with his thumb.
"Honey, this feels so good," he said.
She smiled around his cock.
"Are you okay? Would you mind if I went faster, deeper, maybe?"
She released him for a moment to answer. "Do what feels good. I'll tell you if I need you to stop."
And she took him in her mouth again, amazed at herself. Giving head was not her favorite thing. Some guys tasted funny, and some guys were so oblivious, they'd gag her and keep right on going. But with Haden the whole experience was an extreme turn-on. In fact, she decided to touch herself with one hand while using the other to stroke his balls, which swung as he moved. Noises came from his throat, and she knew his eyes were still on her, because that's all that was in his mind, just pictures of her lips, her cheeks sucking in, his cock going in and out of her mouth, his hands in her hair.
His increased thrust caused her to gag a bit, and he stopped immediately, but then she relaxed her throat and let him go deeper.
"Kitty, you are so hot."
With her thumb, she rubbed the space just above her clit, while her middle finger stroked up and down next to it. She was so close to coming. Of course, she might bite him if she did, but the water and the pressure and the taste...she might not be able to stop herself.
Luckily, Haden pulled out with a little popping sound.
"Out," he ordered. "Towels."
As if she weighed nothing, he lifted her, dripping, onto the tile floor and wrapped her in a fuzzy bath sheet. He followed suit, and she took the time to admire his muscled thighs, strong but lean. His impatience was obvious as he swung her into his arms, towel and all, and stalked into the bedroom. She squeaked at the abrupt treatment, but was secretly thrilled. There was something about knowing she'd brought a man so close to orgasm that he reverted to caveman mode. It made her feel powerful.
Haden's bed had black iron grills at both ends and iron posts that reached up to a square canopy frame. Haden had left the frame empty, which seemed more masculine to Kit. She liked it. The walls were painted in broad stripes of beige and brown. Very tasteful. He yanked back the bedspread with one hand while Kit clung to his neck, then he said, "Let go," and deposited her in the center of the king-size mattress, leaning over her menacingly.
"Ooh, silk." Kit petted the fabric underneath her. It was a rich chocolate color.
Haden didn't seem to care about the silk. "Give me your towel."
"Yes, sir." She'd apparently reduced his vocabulary, eliminating please and thank you. Interesting. He tossed the towels on a rack near the bathroom door, then opened the nightstand drawer. His movements were fluid, but tense, impatient. He was focused on one thing only, and that one thing had Kit torn between nervousness and excitement. His penis had remained hard through all of this, so she mused on its thickness and length. It would fill her up, no doubt, and it had been so long since she'd had actual sex that it would likely be very tight. Too tight? She was so wet, that it shouldn't matter, and he'd loosened her up a bit with his fingers earlier. Besides, she could deal with a little soreness later if it meant heaven now.
Haden ripped open a condom package. Then he looked at her. "Would you like to do the honors?" His momentary grin kept him from sounding like an egomaniac.
"Sure." He joined her on the bed on his knees. She pinched the tip of the condom as she'd learned long ago during sex ed, then placed it gently on the head of his cock. He inhaled suddenly, and she rolled the latex down his length. His eyes grew feral. He prowled closer, and she drew back until her head reached a pillow. He spread her legs none too gently.
This is it.
Kit didn't know if that was Haden's thought or her own, but she agreed wholeheartedly. The anticipation was killing her. His biceps strained, and his stomach muscles tightened as he entered her slowly. She felt stretched almost to the point of pain.
"You're so tight. Do you need me to stop?"
"No. It's just been a while." He pushed in further. Kit was conscious not only of the man above her, but of her own breasts, touched by cool air, of her legs spread wide, of her hands digging into the sheets. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, feeling each inch of him descend into her body. Their hips touched as she sheathed him completely. She lifted her hands to his biceps and rubbed them as she arched her hips and encouraged him to thrust deeper.
"Lift your legs. Put your feet on my ass."
She obeyed and found that made the pleasure even more intense.
"Oh, God."
"Yes."
He pushed all the way in, so deep she felt him touch her cervix, bringing on an intense sensation that she wasn't used to, like balancing on a cliff's edge, scared, but ready to fly. When he pulled out, his cock rubbed along the walls of her vagina, stirring up pleasure every inch of the way. Almost out, he pushed back in again. Slow, slow, faster, faster, harder, harder. She pressed her feet into his ass cheeks and gripped his shoulders and rode the wave of ecstasy. Just when she thought she was going to explode, he stopped, like he could sense that she was on the cusp of an orgasm.
"I want to fuck you from behind."
She couldn't have said no. She needed to come, and he held the power. She couldn't believe how quickly he turned her over, positioning her on all fours. She'd never realized how strong he was, but she hadn't helped him change her position at all. He'd moved her easily, without any grunting or awkwardness. His barked commands should bother her, as should the fact that he interrupted her pleasure, but she was more turned on than ever.
He placed her hands on the top bar of the headboard. "Hold on."
A thrill coursed through her body. She'd never done this before, and she couldn't imagine how it was going to feel.
Haden slid one arm under her stomach while his other hand spread her knees farther apart on the mattress. It was a little awkward, but then his cock pushed against her wet entrance, and she forgot about awkwardness and gripped the metal bed frame. He slammed deep, hitting her G-spot dead on, withdrawing, and slamming in again. Kitty closed her eyes and prayed that he wouldn't stop, that he would go faster, harder, that he would grip her waist tighter. The tips of her breasts swung against the stacked pillows, and she learned that if she arched her back, thrusting her butt higher, that he'd fill her completely.
He didn't stop, even when Kitty's orgasm scorched through her body, shaking her with wave after wave of pleasure. He kept pounding her until she was almost ready to tell him to get away ‑‑ almost ‑‑ but it still felt satisfying.
Then she saw an image of a wolf howling in his mind, and he came, hot and fast, inside of her. His body bucked against her. Her arms shook with the strain of holding the headboard.
"Can I let go now?" she asked.
Haden had to catch his breath before he could reply. "Only if you lower yourself slowly. I want to stay inside you as long as possible."
Oh, man, did she like hearing that. She unclamped her fingers and inched them down the bars to the pillows, then she lowered her stomach to the bed with Haden heavy on top of her. She felt languid, adrift. His penis slowly softened, and he eased out and rolled onto his back. He casually removed the spent condom and tossed it into a trashcan beneath the nightstand.
Hmm, should she be concerned that the condoms and the trash were so conveniently placed? Did he bring many women here? He placed one arm under a pillow and relaxed, and his thoughts grew fuzzy. Classic male ‑‑ he was falling asleep.
Sated, Kit rolled away from him so she could hide her smile. He tugged her against his body in a nice spoon position, and it was in that position that she eased into sleep.
She smelled of good lovin'. Haden's knees sank into the mattress. He'd thought of running out to Sammie's and bringing back breakfast to share, but then memories of last night got to him and all he wanted to do was crawl back in bed with her. Leslie's platinum locks splayed across the pillow calling up memories from the night before. Would she mind if he woke her up? Was she worn out? His cock was growing hard again. If she was too tired, he could just lie next to her and satisfy himself.
Selfish bastard. You should've gone for breakfast. Treat her well and all that.
He leaned in closer. Something wasn't right about the smell. The scent of sex was strong, too strong, like it was smeared on her face, and there was that tang. A familiar tang, something that shouldn't be present in the bedroom. Was she having her period? She hadn't mentioned it, and wouldn't he have tasted it last night? It never turned him off, but he could always tell, sometimes before the woman could.
"Leslie, sweet, would you like a bit more o' last night?"
She didn't stir. Haden laid a hand on her cheek. Cold! He yanked it back. Now he couldn't mistake the metallic smell, like iron. He couldn't mistake it because it tied in with the chilled skin. Oh, my God...
He leapt up from the bed and circled around. The white sheet covered her up to her chin, but it wasn't white anymore. It was red and black and brown. Haden touched the edge and pulled slowly. What was it? What was it?
Her neck was like raw meat, ground, torn, and her stomach was open and...and...
He turned away as dry heaves wracked his body. What happened? What happened? He couldn't think. The smell of flesh goaded him. The human part of him felt sick, wanted to run for the toilet, but the other part of him screamed to change, to feed.
No!
Had he done this? Had he changed? There were still two nights before the full moon ‑‑ had he waited too long? Had he played it too risky? Been too greedy for more time with Leslie?
The power roiled through his body as the beast fought to take over, demanded sustenance.
He ran to the bathroom, wanting to feel sicker, when instead he grew stronger, surer.
It was daytime. He couldn't change now. He'd never once changed without the moon. He gripped the sides of the slick, cool porcelain of the sink, flipped on the faucet, splashed frosty water on his face and neck. But the mirror betrayed the truth. His pupils dilated, his brow ridged. He opened his mouth and panted as his teeth and snout lengthened.
Oh, God, oh, God...I can't change. I need to call the police. They can't see me like this.
But someone else saw him this time. Who was there? He felt her eyes on him, eyes that hadn't been there before.
\*
Kit screamed. Haden sat bolt upright, eyes adjusting immediately to the dark room. She screamed again, grasping at her throat, touching her forehead. He could hear her heart racing and smell her fear. She clutched the blankets to her chest, and tears streamed down her face. When he reached out to comfort her, she screamed louder and scrambled sideways until she actually fell off the bed. His own heart was in his throat. Adrenaline pumped through his muscles. He fought to calm down. Breathe, okay, once more. He was better, but Kit was not.
"Kit, it's me. You had a bad dream." At least he hoped that was all it was. He'd not been having a very good dream, either, but he'd long ago stopped screaming because of it. Feet on the floor, he leaned down to help her up, but she crab-walked away from him, not stopping until she reached the wall. Clearly she was afraid of him at the moment. Perhaps she wasn't completely awake.
Or maybe she knows your secret.
For just a moment he flashed on his dream and the sense of being watched at the end.
Impossible. He scoffed at his paranoia and wracked his brain for a way to calm Kit down before she hurt herself.
"Kit, are you awake?"
She nodded, still crying. She wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling them up to her chest.
"I want to help. It was just a dream, really."
At least she'd stopped screaming, and her sobs were growing softer. He sucked at this comforting women thing.
"Do you want a hug?" She shook her head violently. "Okay, do you want me to leave the room?"
She hesitated, then nodded.
He stood up from the bed, naked, and noticed that she averted her eyes. Not a good sign after the explosive sex they'd had tonight. Maybe this was some kind of guilty reaction? He hoped not. She'd been a full participant, and casting him as a bad guy would be childish.
Where were his jeans? Ah, on the chair. He grabbed them and took a moment to yank them on. "I'll leave you alone for a bit, if you promise me you'll be okay alone. You seem a bit unsettled."
She didn't answer and she wouldn't look at him, just remained huddled up against the wall, naked and shivering.
"Kit, you're scaring me. Promise me you won't do something stupid."
She cleared her throat and in a scratchy voice said, "I promise."
He hated to leave her, but if he was the source of her fear, then he had to. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need me. Just yell. I'll hear you."
He didn't know what else to do, so he left the room, feeling useless. He left the door cracked and waited in the hall for a moment. No movement and the sobs had changed to hiccups, so he decided it was safe for him to go to the kitchen. Once there, he opened and closed cupboards without really seeing their contents. He never bought chamomile tea, so he decided to make a pot of coffee. Maybe the alcohol had hit her suddenly. They'd only been asleep for a couple of hours, so it was probably still in her system. He glanced at the clock on the microwave. God, it had been a long night. He could already see the grayness in the sky that signaled daybreak.
"Work is not going to go well," he mumbled.
He'd felt like someone had been watching him in his dream, though. He'd never felt that before.
He shook his head and poured steaming black liquid into two mugs.
What did the dream mean? Had the killer been there watching him and his subconscious was only now revealing it? He sipped. How many times had he had that nightmare? How many times had he analyzed his memory? He would have smelled someone else present in Leslie's apartment, that's all there was to it. No, this dream was different for some other reason.
When Kit appeared at the other side of the counter, she was fully clothed and clutching her purse to her chest. "I need to go now," she said. Her skin was pale and her eyes red-rimmed.
"I'm pretty sure you're in no condition to drive."
"Fergie needs me." She started backing down the hall.
"Marsha has him, remember? Come on, I made you some coffee." He held out the mug without making a move toward her, but her eyes darted everywhere and she kept backing up. "Let me drive you, then." He'd had the same amount of alcohol and sleep, but none of that would affect him the same.
"Several hours since my last drink. I'm fine." But her hands shook as she lifted her keys from her purse.
He set the mugs on the counter and took a step toward her. "Kit, talk to me. What was in your dream? What's making you act this way?"
A shudder ran through her body. He heard it on her exhale. "You were," she whispered before turning and scuttling to the door.
He could've overtaken her, but he'd just had the wind knocked out of him.
He'd been in her dream.
And she'd been in his.
It was one day until the change. Haden was going out of his mind, but not because of the draw of the moon.
Blackie's Pub brimmed every evening with merry patrons. There was always a line, and sometimes folks simply had to be turned away. Beautiful, as far as Haden's master plan went. He'd hired on more staff and had the dinner service running like a well-oiled machine, but every time he left Angelica in charge ‑‑ usually during the lunch hour ‑‑ things fell apart. An appliance broke, a busboy quit, customers complained she'd returned the wrong credit card to their table. Small glitches that could cause big headaches, especially if a reviewer was in the crowd. The grand opening had been written up in the paper, but no review yet. With his luck, it would happen while he was chained to a barbell set in his secret room.
That thought made his head pound.
And Kitty...well, she was a whole different problem. She'd done her best to avoid him, but when he walked right up to her, she acted like a cornered snake, striking him in any way she could. She complained about the lines, the noise, the smells. She told him what the other store owners were saying. She worried about rats and roaches and rotted food. In other words, she acted as if they'd never slept together.
Insane!
He tried to judge how she felt about him, about the dream, by her scent, but usually she smelled aroused and embarrassed at the same time. And delicious. She always smelled delicious. He walked away from the least little encounter with a growing erection that he had to fight off, usually by thinking of Angelica's ineptitude.
The one thing he could say about all of this was that he hadn't been thinking about Leslie. A small benefit, that.
But why was Kitty avoiding him? He knew why he was avoiding her ‑‑ she'd somehow seen his memory, and that was very dangerous. Did she think he was a murderer? Did she know he was a werewolf? Would she see more if they were together again? Or did she simply think he was a cad because he hadn't sent her flowers after their night together?
He had thought about it, but hadn't wanted to encourage anymore togetherness.
Cretin.
So now he worked his ass off on the restaurant, while kicking himself for having the best damn night of sex in his life. Desire was a powerful thing, clawing at him, making him walk by her store more than necessary, bringing the memories back full-force in the middle of the day. And at night he could still smell her around his house. He'd washed the sheets, thinking then he could sleep. It didn't matter. His were senses picked up the least little trace of her, then he remembered. He'd jerk off as he pictured her supple hourglass shape arched as he pounded into her. He'd been so demanding, and she'd never once complained.
If he couldn't have that again, then he needed to forget about her because the fantasy was killing him.
"Haden, I already counted that stack," Angelica said, her mere voice grating on his nerves. It was an hour past close, and he'd not really noticed the money in his hand.
"Oh."
"And tomorrow I'll be here by my lonesome, right? So you should probably let me handle this."
He nodded absently. If only he'd hired someone else, someone who didn't have that weird smell. It was familiar, but not in a good way. And when he sensed her arousal, it made his skin crawl. She'd have limited access to the cash, since there would be only enough for change in the safe, and he'd not signed her onto the bank account. The damage she could really do was to the pub's reputation, and that wasn't likely, so why did he have this horrible foreboding?
"I guess you've got the routine pretty down, right?" he asked, more to reassure himself than anything.
"Sure thing."
"You can contact me in the morning, but then I'll be away from cell service."
"Gotcha." Angelica glanced up from the ledger. "No landline number that you want to give me?"
"No, sorry. Just remember 9-1-1."
"Gee, I'm abashed at your faith in me." She rolled her eyes.
"And Emilio has a really good handle on things, too, so he can help you out front if you run into trouble."
"Chill, darling. I've done this sort of thing before. I won't start a fire or run off with the dough." She said it with a laugh and a flick of her fingers, as if she were Audrey Hepburn, but then she bit her lip.
Haden nodded while a shiver ran down his spine. He wasn't psychic, but he couldn't shake this feeling of danger. He'd run a criminal check on Angelica, and in that regard, she was far cleaner than he was. Maybe his anxiety had to do with Kit and the dream, at least partially. Maybe confronting her before the full moon would settle his gut, keep the wolf calm. Sometimes his human emotions seemed to influence the wolf, evident the next morning by the number of claw and teeth marks on the wall and floor.
Or maybe that was just his excuse so he could see Kit again.
He really wanted to see her again, and that could only lead to trouble.
He studied Angelica's scrunched brow as she concentrated on filling in the ledger with neat, square print. "All right. I'll let you handle the rest tonight ‑‑ keys, lights, and all." He stood up and offered his hand. "And when I get back we'll invest in an accounting program." That was one of the details he hadn't had time to deal with before the pub's opening.
Angelica shook his hand and smiled. "Good idea, but don't worry. I've got it all covered, boss."
Just as Haden was getting ready to leave the room, he turned and saw her chewing on her lip as she counted the final stack of money.
\*
Kit the slug. Yup, that's what she was, lumped on the couch next to her lumpy dog, watching old horror flicks on cable. Since she owned a DVD store, it was particularly sad that she was too lazy to even put a DVD in. Instead she flicked channels during commercials, marveling at the creative selections of the program directors. She had her choice of The Mummy with Brendan Fraser, a fave, the first Children of the Corn, Godzilla in black-and-white and Japanese, and The Fog with Jamie Lee Curtis. The Mummy was the easy choice, but also seemed to have the longest commercials, so she spent some time yelling "Don't go into the corn!" at the stupid people who insisted on doing so. Godzilla held no appeal, so she watched the slimy creatures march out of the fog, thinking it had been scarier the first time she'd seen it.
Fergie lifted his head from her knee and started growling seconds before someone banged on her door. Holy shit, the creatures were after her now.
It took her a moment to separate reality from TV. Once she did, she scrambled from the couch, smoothed down her pajama top, and went to look through the peephole.
Haden. Damn. The absolute last person she wanted to see.
On the one hand, she wanted to melt into a puddle of embarrassment for the hysterics she'd thrown at the end of their evening together. On the other hand, she wanted to grab a butcher knife and sic Fergie on him because of the dream, the dream that could have been his, could have been hers, or could have been some crazed combination of the two.
He knocked again and probably knew she was just on the other side of the door.
Her face also burned at the thought of everything they'd done together. The sex had been so uninhibited, so out there, and so damn good. How could she have let him order her around like that? How could she have let him touch her and suck her and watch her come? It wasn't that she was a sexual prude, but those types of things, to her way of thinking, took intimacy and intimacy like that took time.
"Kit, I know you're standing on the other side of the door. Are you going to let me in?" Haden said. When she looked through the peephole again, she saw his magnified eye looking right back at her.
She could say, "It's really late," and she'd have a point, but her body rebelled. Her center liquefied, her nipples came to attention, and her skin heated. The memories rolled in, and all she could think was that she wanted to do it again.
The deadbolt turned, and the chain unhitched. Yeah, she'd done it, but she liked to pretend it was some unseen telekinetic force and not her own conscious choice. Haden rushed in, spraying water everywhere, and that was when Kitty noticed the rain. It was coming down pretty hard, she realized as she shut the door.
Oops, maybe I shouldn't have left him standing out there so long.
They had spoken on a couple of occasions since the Night of Sex, as she thought of it, but she'd mostly complained. That had seemed the best way to cover any embarrassment and to keep her distance, no matter how bitchy it made her seem. But why keep her distance? Her body clearly thought that a stupid idea. She wanted to rub along him and smell him and entice him to fuck her again many, many times.
And Haden, damn him, was running the erotic movies again, replaying their night together, particularly the scene where she sucked his cock in the bathtub. That was starting to make her really hot, but then there was the image of her huddled against the wall, crying. She sensed tenderness and confusion from his memory.
"Sorry I'm dripping all over your carpet," Haden said, bringing Kit back to the present and the fact that Fergie had gone into full-crouch mode. She rolled her eyes at the dog. Fat lot of good crouching and growling was going to do if the thing she'd seen in the dream came after her.
"Mind if I take my shirt off?" the man went on. "I can hang it on the chair, and maybe it'll dry a bit."
"Um." Taking off his shirt, seeing him shirtless, that would be bad for her. That would make her brain cells evaporate, but Haden took her silence as permission. He started undoing his buttons, and what did she do? She watched him, like a fool, totally enraptured as more and more skin was revealed. All of her concerns about the freaky dream, about her embarrassing actions, fled.
But then she wasn't the only one who'd caused the frostiness of the past few days. Haden had seemed more cautious, more preoccupied, like he wanted to talk but wanted to avoid her at the same time.
She cleared her throat. "So without invitation, you're over here, stripping in my house. That's a bit presumptuous, isn't it?"
His lips turned up just a bit. "I didn't intend to strip. I intended to talk."
"Could've done that today."
"Too many ears and too many to-dos. I thought we should talk alone." His eyes grew darker. "You're not still scared of me, are you?"
She turned away. "Should I be?" The few steps to the couch allowed her to hide her eyes from him. She was scared of the creature in the dream, but it couldn't possibly be real, which meant she was overreacting. She tried to play it cool by flipping the channel back over to The Mummy. Oh, great, the scene with all the bugs. That was sure to calm her down ‑‑ not.
Fergie hopped up onto the couch and laid his furry head on her knee as Haden hung his shirt on a dining room chair. He walked over. "May I join you?"
She nodded, but Fergie protested with growls and yaps. She conked him on the nose, a tap really, but her dog got the message. He settled back to her knee and closed his eyes as if leaving her to her fate.
Haden rubbed a hand over his chin, drawing her attention to his sexy five o'clock shadow. "I don't even know where to begin."
"List the subjects you'd like to discuss, and I'll pick," Kit suggested, knowing she probably wouldn't like any of the topics.
"Okay, I want to discuss how you felt about what happened between us the other night, why you ran off the way you did, what the bad dream was about, why you're avoiding me now, and when we can have sex again." He shook his head. "Actually didn't mean to say that last part."
"But you were thinking it." She waggled her finger at him accusingly. "You've been thinking about it since you got here."
"How do you know?"
Shit, she needed to stop tripping herself up that way, so instead she pointed to his lower anatomy. And, manohman, the boy blushed beet red.
He turned away from her and adjusted himself. "Really, really sorry about that. I haven't had this problem since I was a teenager." He faced her again, his skin a slightly lighter shade.
Kit giggled at his look of mortification. She shouldn't get such gleeful pleasure from his embarrassment, but he was so he-man most of the time, it was great to knock him down a peg or two. But then she grew serious. She wasn't being honest. She'd barely noticed the state of his pants, only read his thoughts, and here she was, making fun of him. Not fair.
"So that was my list. What did you want to start with?"
"Forget the damn list. Go strip and I'll meet you in the bedroom."
Haden rubbed his lower lip with his thumb, a grin blooming on his face. "Talk. I said talk about the subjects, not act them out."
"Talk is cheap, bud."
"But also necessary." He paused. "I'll be away for the next three...days. Angelica will be in charge of the pub."
"Wow, I didn't think you'd trust somebody that fast. You act like a control freak whenever I'm over there."
"Well, it's...necessary."
"Where are you going?"
"The mountains." He'd told Angelica that it was Army Reserve training, but he didn't want to lie to Kit anymore than he had to.
"Do you want me to call you if your place burns to the ground?" She sounded casual, but inside she was quaking at his leaving. What if he didn't come back? What if this trip was a tryst with another woman? What if it was to get away from her?
He cringed. "No cell service where I'm going, but feel free to call the fire department."
"Will do." It wasn't like they had a relationship. He could come and go free as a bird. No need to get choked up over it, but this thing was so new...she didn't want to lose it.
"I guess that's why I wanted to talk about the other night before I left."
"What do you mean?"
He tilted his head. "Where we stand."
She waited. She wasn't going to be the one to clarify their relationship, not until she knew what he was thinking. And for a mind reader, she never seemed to know the important stuff. She just knew Haden thought about sex a lot. Poor guy. Didn't they make a pill for that?
He reached out to pat Fergie's head, but the dog bared his teeth, so he put his hand back on his thigh. "I didn't know what assumptions you'd made about our relationship. I thought we should talk about it."
"Assumptions? I haven't made any assumptions. If you don't want to have mind-blowing sex again, that's fine with me." It pained her to say that. What if he had that kind of sex with every woman he slept with? Maybe it just wasn't that special to him. Like the platinum blonde. He'd obviously had that with her.
"I want to have sex with you again. It was on my list to talk about."
"Maybe you should've invited me to the mountains with you, then."
His eyes widened, like he hadn't seen that coming, and the picture in his mind was of him handcuffed ‑‑ of all things ‑‑ to his weight machine.
"Do you like bondage or something?"
"Huh?"
God, she never had this much trouble keeping her ability to herself. With Haden she kept blurting out things she shouldn't know. She needed a muzzle.
"And I want to talk about that."
"What?"
"Sometimes, I swear, it's like you're reading my mind."
She narrowed her eyes and grinned seductively. "So you were thinking about bondage."
He blushed again, this time adding her to the image of him handcuffed to the weight machine. She sat, panty-less, on top of his crotch. "Not exactly," he said. "It's just you seem to read me really well. Better than anyone else I've known. It freaks me out sometimes."
Yup, that was her. The freak.
"Sorry."
He rested his arm across the back of the couch and leaned in closer. "Nothing to be sorry about. I found it particularly helpful during our activities the other night." The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled at her. He was the sexiest man she'd ever met in her life.
"Where were we on the list?" she asked, because he'd gone back to thinking about her gripping the headboard, and that had her melting on the inside.
"The dream. You really freaked out, and you said I was in it. I thought maybe we should talk about it."
"It was just a silly dream. I'm over it." Especially since the more that time passed, the more she realized how ridiculous the whole thing was. Monsters lived in movies, not under her bed. Or in her bed, as the case may be.
"But what was it you saw?"
She pretended to zip her lips.
He leaned in even closer with a coaxing expression. "Talking makes it better; didn't your parents tell you that when you had a bad dream?"
"When I was five. They stopped asking after that."
"I'm here to ask you now."
Well, that gave her a little glow of warmth. He radiated concern as his fingers grazed along her shoulder. "Fine." She shuddered at reliving the details. "I saw a murdered woman ‑‑ a blonde ‑‑ in a bed, and I saw your face change into a monster, sharp teeth, fur, the whole bit. Crazy, I know."
Haden sat back as if she'd slapped him.
"How could...?" He caught himself, rubbing his cheek, looking at her, but not seeing her. "I have to go." He stood up, waking Fergie, who growled and snapped.
"But we were talking, and you were all concerned."
"We'll talk more...later. I have to go now." I have to think about this.
Wow, the electric shock had not only given her the talent to read minds, but to spaz men out as well. She'd known it was a bad idea to hope for a relationship. At least he was thinking about "thinking" and not about having her committed. Judging by his reaction, she'd hit upon a bit of truth. The monster part had obviously been a figment of her dream state, so that meant that the murdered blonde had been real. That begged the question: Who had murdered her, and why had Haden been there?
But he didn't wait around for her to ask him. He left so fast, his shirt was still on her chair. Was he the murderer? Kit shivered. If that was the case, would he consider her a witness?
Overactive imagination, girl. You slept with him, so it follows that he's not the murderer. Your taste in men cannot possibly be that bad.
Could it?
\*
Haden sped through the late night streets barely registering his surroundings. Kitty had seen into his head, witnessed his memory of finding Leslie murdered. Far worse than that, Kitty had seen him change. Despite that, she'd opened her door to him tonight, so even though she'd witnessed the truth, she didn't understand it. Maybe she'd written it off as a nightmare, but it had scared her enough to run from him the other night. But how had Kitty shared his dream? Why did she often seem to know what was in his head? He should have grilled her more, demanded an answer, but then he'd confirm that he was the monster she'd seen. Better to leave her wondering.
Without doubt, she might reveal his secret to the tabloids, to the police. He doubted anyone would believe her, but suspicions of any kind might prompt someone to dig into his past or to put him together with a most wanted poster.
God, he was tired of hiding.
At a stoplight, Haden felt the moon's pull. It was visible above the squat suburban buildings and trees, a glowing white ball so close to full that it was hard to tell that it wasn't. The calendar marked one specific date as the full moon each month, but Haden had learned over the years that there were three nights where he couldn't stop the change. And during those days, the beast was so close to the surface that it was better to stay away from people. While the moon affected him, everyone's hearts beat so loud that he could envision the blood running through their veins. They also looked a bit too much like food, and little things they did annoyed him. Anger rode him, and he'd pick fights and break things.
Better to stay home and punch his bag or workout with weights and brood. Try not to picture running through a forest with a pack at his side, their calls guiding him to fresh and weak prey. He had no pack and no territory, and he refused to let this beast inside him overtake his humanity.
The sight of his house calmed him some. He parked and spent an hour securing his property, closing the gates, making sure all the motion lights worked properly, and setting alarms that chimed in his "office" rather than calling the police. He'd spent the cash he'd saved in Ireland ‑‑ what was left from getting the pub off the ground ‑‑ on the down payment for this house and on security. He'd needed a safe haven when he decided to risk living near the city.
Tonight he'd spend in his bed, but tomorrow night he'd move the weight machine into his office. The lock on the reinforced door and the cuffs he used during the change had digital timers. He made the choice to lock himself in, and the timers ensured that he could get out again. He recalled the time he'd knocked the key across the room during a change. He'd been unable to free himself from the police-issue handcuffs for hours.
His mind ventured back further. The transition to werewolf had taken time. He'd changed gradually during his teen years. The first few months he'd noticed the physical changes in his body hair, teeth, and nose. He'd stay in his room, earphones on, and rebuff his parents' attention. But when he finally changed completely, he realized he lost himself. He woke up after the moon set, naked in the woods, a bloody dead rabbit under his chin. He didn't know how strong he was or if he was capable of killing something much larger than a rabbit, but he'd decided not to risk it. Finding an abandoned hunting cabin in the woods just outside of town, he'd learned the art of locking himself up for changes and getting back out again. And the art of lying. His parents never noticed that he invariably spent several nights at friends' houses during the full moon.
\*
Angelica was nervous because Richard planned to visit her at work today. She wanted to impress him with her ability to handle the restaurant. Here she was in charge, but she worried that Richard would order her to do something in front of her employees, something she couldn't say no to if she wanted to stay with him. He'd never played their games in front of people she knew, but he would eventually. It was all about stretching past her inhibitions. Each time she thought there was no possible way she could do something, could enjoy something ‑‑ like anal sex ‑‑ Richard ordered her to do it. Then when she did what he wanted, the pleasure was devastating.
She'd spent more time at the front of the restaurant today, making sure the staff respected her authority in Haden's absence. So far, no problems. In fact, she thought she was doing better than usual. Without explaining his connection to Haden, Richard had helped Angelica get a job here, engineering glowing managerial references to make her the perfect candidate, but he'd also warned her to never mention his name to her boss. That and the sense that Richard disliked Haden made her scatterbrained when she was at work with him.
"But I am the perfect candidate," Angelica assured herself, despite the fake references. She'd just never been given the chance before. She scowled as she examined the contents of the walk-in pantry, marking inventory on her clipboard. She'd send Emilio to the grocery store if something couldn't wait for the weekly deliveries. She'd prove herself worthy to both Haden and Richard by doing this job flawlessly without someone looking over her shoulder. Maybe she'd even convince herself.
Zeke peeked in, bringing the scent of roasted lamb with him. "Talking to yourself, boss lady?" The cook was stubby, dressed in spattered whites, with kinky black curls covering his head.
She smiled, glad for the distraction. "Yes, I am. How are things going?"
"A lull, but the early dinner crowd will be here soon."
She nodded. "Excellent. Need anything?"
"Chris mentioned change and paper for the register."
"I'm on it."
Chris was one of the waiters, a UR student like Richard, but an undergrad. Angelica left the pantry to go unlock one of the safes in the office. This one was strictly for coin rolls and ones. Another was for shift deposits. The third she didn't have access to, but she thought it was mainly for the pub's important papers. She grabbed some fives, ones, and quarter rolls and relocked the safe. Then she snagged a roll of receipt paper from the supply shelf and went to fix the register.
An hour before sunset, Richard appeared, his tousled blond hair shading dark, mysterious eyes. At least she thought of them as mysterious. They'd drawn her to him the first night they'd met at a bar downtown. Blackie's hostess, Susan, seated him in a corner table near the window as Angelica tended to a couple confused by the wine choices.
Spotting her lover, she immediately grew hot and shaky. She lost her train of thought, fought to pull her eyes back to the couple at the table, but all she could think about was last night. Yesterday, Richard had received a special order, a leather swing, so last night he'd mounted it, then strapped her in it. Her skin chilled thinking of her initial embarrassment, embarrassment that had quickly changed to extreme arousal as he'd licked her pussy. But Richard hadn't seemed that happy with the device. The couple at the table stared at her, their smiles faltering. Red wine, something about red wine.
As soon as she was free, she rushed to Richard's table, her panties ridiculously damp.
"Hi." She pasted on a smile and resisted the urge to bite her nails.
"I'm impressed," Richard said, gesturing for her to sit down. She pulled out the second chair, but glanced over her shoulder, so he added, "Do you have time?"
"A few minutes." It wasn't about the time; it was about losing her tenuous hold on her employees' respect. "The crowd's growing again."
"Perfect."
The silence stretched as Richard examined the menu, and Angelica grew more nervous, even though she was still turned on. Usually she enjoyed any time spent in Richard's company, examining the artistic line of his lips, the high ridge of his cheekbones. He'd shown her a couple of his paintings, so she loved to stare at his fingers and imagine him painting delicate strokes on canvas. But this time she tapped her foot in impatience that she couldn't let him see, or he'd want to punish her immediately.
"I see a bottle of 2004 Rosso di Montalcino listed. May I have that, please? I'd like you to join me for a glass."
"Sure." She rose, but Richard put his hand on her arm, his eyes fierce.
"Call the waiter over. You're not a servant here."
Angelica caught Chris's eye, and he came over so she could order the wine. He gave her a look that said he thought the situation odd, but she kept smiling. Chris opened the wine and served, then returned to his tables. Richard swirled the dark purple liquid and sniffed the bouquet. Then he sipped and gestured for Angelica to do the same. She skipped the swirling and sniffing and swallowed more than a sip. Richard scowled, but that was too bad. She wasn't going to pretend to understand the fine art of wine tasting, but she understood the richness and complexity of the flavor on her tongue.
"I should get back to work, Richard." Would he pay for the wine, or was she expected to dock it from her pay?
"Finish your glass first."
She tried not to gulp it as she grew more self-conscious under her lover's scrutiny. She also sensed Emilio and Chris watching her and wondered what they were thinking.
Richard placed his hand on hers. "Relax." She met his eyes and her body softened. "And I have something I need you to keep for me."
"Okay." But why did he have to give it to her now?
He slid a paper bag across the table. She looked at it curiously and started to unroll the lip.
He stalled her with his hand. "No peeking. I just want you to put this in your desk or locker and forget about it for now. Don't take it home. Don't look in it. Can you do that for me?"
"Of course, but I don't understand."
"Think of it as a game, like our other games. But it's very important that you keep it hidden here and don't look in the bag. Do you agree?"
Thinking of their previous "games," her face grew hot again. She nodded. "Yes."
"Splendid." Finally he stood, releasing her from suspended animation.
Angelica avoided Emilio's eyes as she rushed into the back clutching the bag. Look busy, look important. Richard hadn't done or said anything sexual, hadn't treated her as his servant, yet she felt like everyone knew, knew that just this morning she'd been tied to a post with clit and nipple clamps dangling and a butt plug that looked like a series of little balls shoved up her ass as Richard forced her to suck the lifelike black dildo. Her entire body had been twined with rope, reminding her of a macramé plant holder. He'd taken pictures of her and called her a work of art, but he'd refused to lick her or fuck her. When he'd finally set her free so she could go to work, he'd merely pecked her cheek. She'd been tempted to stop somewhere and get herself off, just to release the tension, but she imagined he'd know somehow and disapprove.
Maybe if she kept the bag for him ‑‑ what it was, she couldn't imagine ‑‑ maybe then he'd make love to her again. In the normal way.
Haden parked the Jag behind the pub and breathed a sigh of relief to see that it was still standing. Pent-up energy rolled through his body as he left the car and entered the kitchen. Three nights away and he'd missed the place. Three nights cooped up when his beast wanted to roam free, and he was ready to crawl out of his skin. He'd hefted weights for an hour this morning, but that had barely calmed him down. Everything smelled so strong, like the blooming azaleas and the rotting trash in the Dumpsters, the recent rain on the asphalt, and the perfume a customer had worn the night before. The sun nearly blinded him, and he could see every shadowed corner in the restaurant without turning on a light.
And he was so hungry. He reached into the fridge and grabbed a leg of lamb, throwing it on the stove for a sear. He wanted to eat it before any of his employees arrived. While he was licking the last bit of grease from his fingers, he heard Kit enter next door and the familiar sound of the return box being dragged across the room. Suddenly he knew something else he wanted to do before any employees arrived. Needed to do.
A different kind of hunger.
He sauntered down the sidewalk and knocked on the glass, startling her since it was still an hour before her store opened.
"Can I help you?" Kit asked formally, drawing close to the door, but making no move to open it.
Haden smelled her uncertainty, even through the glass, and tried to think of a way to circumvent it. "I missed you." And it was true, truer than he wanted it to be.
She put her hands on her hips. "You left right when I was opening up to you."
He caught another familiar scent a few feet away. "Can I come inside, please? Don at the comic store is listening in."
She glanced at the sidewalk beyond, but wouldn't be able to see Don. Then she sighed, unlocked the door, and relocked it once he was inside. Ah, she smelled like vanilla again and she'd washed her hair with a jasmine shampoo. He didn't realize he was stalking her until she scooted back, but then he could smell her sex inviting him to lose control.
"I want to talk to you somewhere private." He took a long step closer, barely controlling the urge to scoop her up and fling her over his shoulder.
She backed up, sliding along the counter. "This is private. No one's here yet."
The last step brought him well inside her personal space, mere inches from touching. "More private."
She squeaked, turned, and pointed to the door to the left of the office. "In there?"
"That'll do."
"There" turned out to be the adult room with the X-rated video and DVD boxes. The space was about seven by seven feet with wall-to-wall shelves, each brimming with erotic poses and titles. The titles were often one word different than the titles of Hollywood blockbusters, but their covers made it clear which audience they were gunning for. Kit closed the door carefully once they were both inside the room.
"Okay, what did you want to talk to me about?" she asked, twisting her hands in front of her. She was in her usual uniform of khaki pants and polo shirt. Her hair was pulled back by combs, and her makeup consisted of only a bit of mascara and lip-gloss. She looked absolutely delectable. Haden had spent some of his saner moments at home pondering his extreme attraction to this girl-next-door, but he'd gotten no closer to an answer. He simply wanted her with every cell of his being.
Kit tried not to freak at the look on Haden's face, and the fact that he'd basically stalked her like prey until she was cornered in the adult room. He looked...hungry, demanding, like he wouldn't take no for an answer, and so damn hot! She tried to stare at anything but him, but then she found herself eyeing the covers on the shelves. The first one her eyes settled on had a big-boobed blonde bent over a naked man's knees getting spanked. Spanking equaled pain, so Kit never understood why some people found it erotic, like Angelica, but then, maybe she'd need to try it to understand. She imagined Haden yanking her pants to her knees, patting his palm on her pale ass in preparation, then giving her a good, hard swat. Eek. That was not helping the state of her body.
The row of boxes drew Haden's attention as well, and Kitty couldn't help but pick up on his imaginings. He took a scene from one of the covers and inserted Kit as one of the two women sucking a man's cock. Of course, he was the man. The other woman's face remained hidden, anonymous. That was good. No one that Kitty needed to be jealous of. Could she do it, though? Could she share his cock with another woman like it was a tasty lollipop? Since many of the covers had the theme of woman on woman, it was easy for Kitty to take the scenario to even more forbidden places. What would it be like to stroke a woman's breast, to taste, to go down on her?
Geez, how could she think that? She needed to get out of here.
"Stop backing away from me," Haden growled.
"I'm not," she lied. "I should probably go back to getting the store ready, though, so what was it that you wanted to talk about?"
"Nothing. Come here so I can kiss you."
"Haden, you've been gone for three days without a word, and then you just come in here and order me around." She put her hand on the door handle behind her back. "I'm not that kind of woman." Was she?
"I'm not discussing it. I've got to kiss you." He wrapped his big hands around her shoulders and pulled her against him. His lips were a force of nature, firm and spicy, enticing her to take a risk, to go a little further.
Hell, to go a lot further.
"How do you do this to me?" she asked when he finally set her lips free to taste her neck. The erotic movie in his head, his always-in-motion hands, and his masculine scent shut down her brain and turned on her hormones. Her blood roared in her ears. She tingled everywhere. She was in a frenzy of arousal with absolutely no control. She wanted him to take her fast and hard on the floor, and she didn't care if any of her employees came in early and heard them through the walls.
She'd tried so hard to forget the other night, how he'd slowly built her pleasure, how he'd driven into her from behind while she'd gripped the bed to meet his thrusts. But something that good would live in her memory forever ‑‑ and she wanted more of it.
"God, Kit, you make me so hard." He slid his hands down her thighs, then lifted her legs around his hips so she could feel exactly what he was talking about. "You make me crazy."
"It's mutual. And you are so damn strong." How could he lift her up and down, rubbing her crotch along his shaft, without even breathing hard? But the rubbing, though pleasurable, was not enough. It just made her hotter, wetter, and more insane. "I need you inside me," she said, shocked at her own statement.
He set her down on unsteady legs and gripped her shoulders. "Undo your pants."
"Back to ordering me around?" She smiled and reached for her snap.
"It's not about ordering you around. It's about saving time and energy. Fewer words, quicker actions." His stony face broke into a quick grin, but then the only thing on his face was hunger as she lowered her jeans and panties to her ankles, the denim and Lycra whispering against her skin. Cool air currents circled her legs.
She stepped free of the discarded clothing, closer to Haden. He wrapped one arm around her back, steely and steady. His other hand slid over her hip and down her thigh slowly, then up again even more slowly. She clutched his shirt, smelling detergent and a faint whiff of cologne as his fingers wandered closer and closer to her wet center. They combed through the wispy triangle of hair and crept toward her clit. Then the magic began, dipping and swirling and tapping.
His waist proved a better stabilizer than his shirt, so she gripped him with both hands and bit her lip to keep from crying out. Sharp exhales through her nose followed. When he pinched her clit just enough to create the most intense pleasure, she opened her mouth and moaned, unable to stifle her response for a second more.
She looked up into his face, into his sexy eyes. "Please fuck me, Haden, but you have to finish this before it's time to open the store."
He chuckled. "You're sounding a bit desperate."
"We have twenty minutes, and if you leave me this way, I'll kill you."
"Now that's what I like to hear. Reach into my back pocket." She did so, praising the Lord for Haden's forethought when she found a condom packet there. Had he planned this when he woke up this morning? She moaned again when he took his fingers away from her to undo his pants.
"Wait, sticky." Kit lifted Haden's hand to her face and sucked his fingers into her mouth one at a time, tasting her own juices. She saw her actions reflected in Haden's mind and knew he was blown away by them. So was she actually. When she gave him back his hand, it was shaky. It took him more than one attempt to undo his zipper.
"On the floor?" she asked.
"No, I'll hold you."
"Can you do that?" She was not a featherweight.
That brief grin appeared again. He pushed his pants to his knees, and she admired his rock-solid length, but he wasn't about show. Action was the name of the game. Kit removed her shoes and kicked her pants from her ankles just before he hefted her to waist-level as if she weighed nothing. His hands cupped her ass, spreading it, creating an odd feeling of exposure as he aligned her pussy with his cock. She couldn't look away as Haden eased into her, inch by agonizingly slow inch, stretching her, filling her. It was almost like she was watching a close-up in a porno movie, but this was her body taking in his unbelievably hard cock all the way to the hilt.
Then he drew himself back out again. In and out, slow and steady.
When Kit finally glanced at Haden's face, she saw heat and wonder and even admiration. She'd expected to see exertion, but the pleasure had changed into something deeper. She didn't know what.
She wrapped her legs tighter around Haden's hips and wriggled a bit, testing out different rotations for the sensation they made. His hands were gentle cups on her ass, allowing for movement, but guiding her in and out at the pace he set. She felt vulnerable, suspended in the air at the mercy of Haden's strong arms.
"Do that again," he said after one successful motion.
Kitty lifted her pelvis up and squeezed and lowered it back down, just a small movement, but it garnered another moan of approval from her lover. Ah, she had some power here. Then Haden took control, sliding her away from him, then back again at a faster pace.
"I cannot believe you're this strong," Kit gasped. She closed her eyes and savored, but then Haden pictured lifting a car with his bare hands. Okay, she hoped that was a Superman fantasy and not something he'd really tried to do. But he had to be the strongest man she'd ever met. She gripped his biceps and felt along to his triceps and up to his shoulders. Nothing but wiry muscle, tensing and releasing with each movement. And the long muscle inside her knew when to thrust up on the way in to hit her G-spot, and drag down on the way out to slide along her canal, creating just the right sort of tension.
"Are you ready for a fast ride?" he asked. She nodded. "Put your hands behind my neck. Hold on." She did, with her eyes closed and every molecule of her being focused on the friction of their two bodies. He was as stable as a mountain, never wobbling, never loosening his grip, just moving her hips for the steady in and out motion they both needed.
Sensing her coming orgasm, Kit contracted her muscles tightly around Haden's cock. His rough breaths, her own gasps and sighs, and the slap of their skin echoed in the small room. She was in the moment, all else had fallen away, except for that delectable friction and the sweet anticipation of release. And when she came, Haden came with her, violently, nearly losing his grip on her. She clung to his neck more tightly as he leaned his palm against the pole running from floor to ceiling in the center of the room.
For several moments, the only sound in the room was their harsh breathing. Kit didn't know how she could recover from this. First of all, her thighs hadn't worked this hard even when she'd been gung ho about the ThighMaster. They were going to hurt. She was too wet to put her pants back on, but what else could she do? And what on Earth was Haden going to do with the condom?
She leaned her forehead against his chest. "That was the craziest thing I've ever done in my life."
"Yeah, it's pretty close to the top of my list, too." He eased her away from him, giving her time to find her feet. He pulled off the condom, then held it out in confusion.
Kit laughed at his expression. "Here, let me help you with your pants while you're figuring out where to put that." Luckily they were still around his ankles. She pulled them up, zipped, and snapped them, then found her own. "I'd recommend the bathroom back there." She pointed in the direction of her office.
He nodded. "For the record, I feel much better now."
Kit rolled her eyes and chuckled. "I'm here to serve."
The thing was, she felt much better too, though her legs felt like jelly. She had less than fifteen minutes to get the store ready to open, but she'd be humming a tune while she did it. Um, after she visited the bathroom and washed up a bit.
\*
The moon made me do it.
If only he could use that excuse for every morning he'd snuck over to the rental store and coaxed Kit into a little sex play. As if by unspoken agreement, they'd not spent the night together again, but getting it on in the pantry, on an office desk, in the adult room, even in the back seat of his Jag ‑‑ those places were safe. No sleeping involved, and Haden consciously kept Leslie and his past out of his mind.
After two weeks of the hottest sex he'd ever had in life, though, he sensed Kitty's restlessness. Or maybe it was his own dissatisfaction. He liked her sense of humor, her tell-it-like-it-is attitude. He wanted to get to know her beyond touch and smell, but deepening the relationship meant deepening the risk, and for her own reasons, Kitty seemed to feel the same way. She kept conversations light, either about work or the world in general, and from this he knew that they had things in common, like a sense of environmental responsibility, a liberal bent in politics, and a love of crime dramas. But they never went deeper to talk about the things that really mattered, like family, dreams, history. He couldn't...so it wasn't fair to ask her to.
Days when he caught himself dwelling on this fact were dark indeed.
And now the moon's pull dragged on him again, making him crotchety at work and jumpy at home. He spent too much time on the Internet, searching hopelessly for clues to Leslie's murder or to his own existence, when he should be sleeping, but when he did sleep he dreamt of a forest teeming with living creatures that scattered as he loped past, fast and free. His heart ached with longing. Personally, he'd rather deal with flashbacks to Leslie's death than with the gnawing thought that this month he shouldn't hide from the moon.
\*
Angelica slipped into her skirt and zipped it up as she stood before the long, antique mirror in Richard's bedroom.
"Angel."
"Yes?" She glanced over her shoulder to see Richard, sitting on the bed shirtless, tapping on his Blackberry. His dark nipples stood out against his tan pecs.
"I think it's time to do something with the bag I gave you. You still have it at work, correct?" His tone said she sure as hell better have.
"Yes, it's there."
"Does your boss have a personal space? You know, somewhere that only he puts things?"
She pushed the back on her earring. "Well, there's the one safe that I don't have access to. I believe he keeps the business license and ledgers in there."
"Anywhere else? Someplace that you could get to if you wanted?"
"He keeps his wallet and other personal items in the bottom drawer of his desk."
Richard smiled. "That's perfect." He set the Blackberry on the pillow next to him and leaned forward. "Do you close by yourself this week?"
"Thursday night."
"Splendid. After the others have left, I want you to place the bag I gave you into Haden's desk drawer."
"Why?" She bit her lip as soon as the word was out of her mouth. Richard raised an eyebrow, and Angelica knew she'd been chastised. "I'm sorry. Of course, I'll do just as you ask."
"And we'll celebrate afterward when I know you've completed the task."
Angelica prayed he'd make love to her then, no ropes, no commands, no punishments. Just simple affection. She needed it, because she was beginning to doubt his love for her.
\*
Five minutes after four on Friday afternoon, the police arrived, sirens blaring.
Okay, seeing her lover hauled out of his restaurant in handcuffs ‑‑ not the highlight of Kitty's day. Definitely not a write-home-to-mother moment. Actually, it was a call-her-best-friend-and-wail-hysterically moment, but she hadn't had time to do that yet.
Gina had dragged her outside to check out the commotion. A half-dozen cop cars, lights flashing, drew onlookers from every business in the shopping center, and a barrage of unfamiliar thoughts hit Kit at once, like snippets of conversations heard on a CB radio, moments of clarity broken by loads of static. She scanned the faces, recognizing only a few. The rest must be customers and clients. The backdoor to the pub opened. Haden, head high and flanked by two officers, walked out with his hands bound behind him. Kit's heart sank to her stomach.
What was going on?
Then she sensed the malevolence, almost like an attack. Images pierced her brain through a red film of hatred, images of Haden as he walked interspersed with flashes of ropes, knives, and naked, bruised flesh. Someone in the crowd was watching Haden and hating him. Kit scanned the crowd, searching for the source, but there were too many people shuffling positions, jockeying for a better view, and too many other thoughts crowding her head. Some of the shopping center folks wondered what Haden had done to draw the police. Others were glad to have a bit of excitement during an otherwise boring afternoon.
Kit's own brain was as chaotic as the scene in front of her, leaving no room for her to form her own opinions. Another flash, distorted by a red haze, seemed to be a memory of Haden fucking a blonde on a couch. The view was from an odd angle ‑‑ through a window, maybe? Was that the same woman Haden frequently thought about? Had someone been watching them together? When had this happened?
But then Haden's thoughts came to her, crystal clear compared to the others. Look at me, Kit. Please look at me. I want to explain all this to you, make you understand. Look at me. I need you to look at me.
She gave up her search for the evil and focused on Haden, saw him looking at her. She met his gaze, held it, and smiled. She doubted that her smile was reassuring with the jumble of thoughts and emotions crowding her brain, but it was the best she could manage at the moment. However, his expression transformed, not quite to a smile, but the worry lines eased. Apparently she'd given him enough reassurance to keep calm in the face of a bad situation. She wished she could read him better, but there was too much mental noise from the crowd.
As an officer helped Haden duck his head to get into the back of a cruiser, Kit noticed Angelica at the pub door. She was wringing her hands and scanning the crowd. Suddenly her thoughts came through loud and clear: Where is he? Where is he? He said he'd be here.
"I can't believe they're taking Haden." Gina reached for Kit's hand. "What could he possibly have done?"
"I don't know." Kit closed her eyes for a moment, recalling the dream of bloody sheets, a woman's torn neck, and platinum hair. Kit didn't know for sure what the police wanted with Haden, but she certainly had an idea, and that scared her beyond measure.
"I'm here to see Haden Blackwood," Kitty told the husky officer behind the desk, blinking at the grit in her eyes. She hadn't slept most of the night, and she'd been driving for three hours, almost to West Virginia in fact. It had taken several phone calls and a lot of on-hold time this morning to even locate Haden. Apparently, the Richmond police had only lent their services on the search and arrest at Blackie's Pub yesterday. The cops from Wolf's Crossing had been invited in to do the honors.
"You know that's not his name, don't you?" the officer said without looking up from the computer screen. He typed a few more letters in a hunt-and-peck method, which had Kitty focusing on the close-cropped red hair atop his head. He scowled, deleted a word, and typed a few more.
Kitty took a deep breath. She'd coerced Marsha into helping Gina and Matt cover the store for the weekend. Marsha had a bit of retail experience, but Kitty wanted her mainly to make sure the teens didn't take her absence as an unearned vacation. Maybe her relationship with Haden didn't warrant such drastic measures. Maybe she should be washing her hands of him, but she needed to know why he'd lied to her.
Then there was the hate she'd felt from one of the spectators yesterday. It had been directed at Haden. Could it have been one of his employees? Such a strong emotion had to be personal, and she hadn't sensed that from anyone at the pub, even Angelica. Maybe it was the person who'd called in the tip to the police. A relative of Leslie, perhaps, or the actual murderer? Hell, it could even be the would-be robber that Haden had helped her run off a few weeks ago, but it had seemed more personal. She didn't know, and that was enough to make her drive all the way out here in search of answers.
The officer, dressed in a crinkled uniform with a bulky gun belt around his waist, finally looked up. He had kind green eyes. "You know that's not his real name, right?"
Kit sighed. She'd pried part of the story out of the cop who'd answered the phone, then found the rest online. A man named Aidan Blackthorne, who looked suspiciously like Haden, was wanted for the murder of Leslie Ann Shefferton on June 1, 2002. The article had boasted a prom photo of all things. The caption stated that Aidan and Leslie had been prom king and queen for the Class of 1995. When Kit saw that photo side by side with Haden's mug shot, she'd finally burst into tears. All the stress of the arrest, all the doubts she'd had about Haden, crashed in on her. She'd cried for half an hour while Fergie licked her face and whimpered.
"Yes, I know," she said to the officer, glad that most of the shakiness had left her voice.
He smiled and offered his hand as he stood up. "I'm Daniel Byrd, by the way. Sheriff. I went to high school with Aidan."
He seemed perversely happy about this. Hadn't Haden said he'd grown up in Las Vegas? Another lie? Kit scowled but shook Daniel's hand.
"If looks could kill."
She scowled harder, which made his grin wider. She didn't understand his mirth in this situation, but it was kind of infectious.
"Aidan finally found himself someone, didn't he?"
"Excuse me?"
"You've got to be his girl, right? And you strike me as someone loyal, too, not the way Leslie was." He pictured Leslie behind the school making out with some Goth kid. I warned him, didn't I? But did he ever listen where she was concerned?
"Um, is this some odd interrogation technique? I really just want to talk to Haden. I've been driving for hours." She was hungry, thirsty, and needed to pee, but all that could wait until she made sure he was okay. Irrational, since where safer than a police station, but this need had nothing to do with the rational part of her mind. And it was that same irrational need that kept her from calling him a stranger's name.
"No problemo. He's just down this hall." The sheriff jangled the keys in his pocket until Kit wanted to thrash him, but he tempered that by showing her memories of Haden as a teenage shortstop. He'd been handsome even then, especially in his pinstriped uniform, but lankier and with a bad haircut.
"Aidan and I were best buds," Daniel said conversationally. "Still are, I hope. Though he made that a bit difficult when he ran off a few years back. That was the first time I was ashamed of him, sorry to say. He should've gotten a lawyer and fought the charges. Running made him look guilty."
"So you don't think he's guilty?"
"Aidan murder Leslie? That'd be like cutting his pecker off. Wouldn't do it. No way."
Kit smirked, glad to know where Daniel stood and damned relieved to know that someone here was on his side.
Finally the officer unlocked the barred door that led to the holding cells. The first area was unoccupied, but the second held a pair of grungy teens with matching brown dreads clanging the bars with their sneakers.
"Put your shoes back on," Daniel said. "And shut up, or I'll call your mama instead of your daddy." To Kit he muttered, "That'll put the fear of God in them."
Kit bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the mental images she received from the boys of their mama, Mrs. Howetz, snapping a belt on their behinds and shaving their heads. Apparently she practiced a very hands-on form of discipline. Daniel was thinking about how soon he could get the twins before a judge, since the charge was just possession, and he was sick of listening to them. He was also thinking that Kit was downright sexy, and if that fool can't treat her right and get his ass out of this mess, then I damn well will.
The last cell appeared empty except for a bunk bed, but familiar thought patterns filled Kit's brain, knocking out all the others. Haden remembered Daniel as a gawky boy and found the contrast between that Daniel and the officer in the uniform amusing. Kit scanned the cell from behind Daniel and realized Haden, eyes closed, reclined against the wall on the top bunk.
"Howdy, Sheriff," he said, wondering how such a noisy man ever caught the bad guys.
"Why don't you come on down from there and make yourself presentable?" Daniel said. "I brought someone to see you."
Haden sniffed the air, knowing he'd get a good whiff of the Howetz brothers' BO, but overtop of the rank jail smells, the most pleasant fragrance of vanilla sailed across the air. Kitty was here.
He'd bitten his tongue so many times to keep from asking Daniel to call her, or to give him the phone so that he could do it, so she'd know where to find him. He'd wanted so badly to see her, but he had no right to involve her in his mess. Instead he'd called the pub and talked to Emilio, who'd told him that Angelica hadn't shown up for work. Luckily, the barman seemed to have a knack for management despite his lack of experience. He'd promised to keep Blackie's running smoothly until Haden returned. More importantly, he hadn't asked a single damn question about the cops.
He breathed deeply once again. Kitty had found him on her own.
She could have written him off as guilty, as so many had. Even Daniel thought he was guilty, it seemed, though his childhood friend never said it to his face. Instead, he'd cuffed Haden on the ear, called him pea-brained, and asked him if he knew a good lawyer. He did. The Richmond firm that handled Haden's business needs also had a strong criminal law component, something he'd taken into account when he'd hired them.
Haden opened his eyes and peered down at Kitty, trying to judge her expression. She smelled nervous, but that had to be natural since she'd watched her lover ‑‑ what else was he? ‑‑ get arrested. She also smelled faintly of coffee and gas, and her hands trembled. He couldn't see her eyes clearly from this height, so he jumped off the bunk, landing easily on his feet. He crossed the space to the bars. Kit had met his eyes after his arrest ‑‑ that alone had made the long night bearable.
"Hi," she said with an embarrassed smile.
Haden glanced at Daniel, who stood just a few feet away. The class clown had survived police academy. Who'd a thunk it? "Can you give us a few here?"
"Do you mind being alone with the criminal element?" Daniel asked Kit, waving his hand in the direction of the twins.
"I'm good," Kit said, but her voice chimed an octave too high. "Bars and all."
Daniel grinned and marched back the way they'd come, jangling with keys, change, and God knows what else. The barred entry clanged shut behind him.
"He seems to like you," Kit commented, facing the bars of Haden's cell, but not looking up. She seemed to find his feet fascinating. He wished he could read her thoughts. Did she hate him? She didn't smell like anger, but he missed her usual smell, which for the past few weeks had been arousal.
"Yeah, likes me so much he locked me up." He couldn't keep the derision from his tone.
"That's his job, but I think he'd be your friend again if you let him."
The job part was the truth, and he had to respect him for it. He didn't know about the friend part. Haden had broken his trust, which most folks found hard to forgive. "I don't want to talk about him. Why are you here?" He tried to sound gruff, disapproving. He ought to scare her off. Hell, she ought to have been scared off already.
"That's a dumb question." Now she did look up, right into his eyes. "Did you do it?"
"Hell, no!" But the guilt rode him as Leslie's bloody flesh swam before his eyes again.
"So why do they think you did?"
"I was there." He closed his eyes thinking of the moments before he'd found his lover ripped to shreds. No memories of sleep, he'd risen from the bed cautiously, trying not to wake her. He'd tiptoed to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as it would go. Standing under the steaming stream, he'd relived the night before. Spicy sausage pizza, beer, and an action movie, followed by a chick flick to get her more in the mood. They'd made out on the couch, then moved to the bedroom, where they'd had hot and heavy sex, but not rough or kinky. He'd passed out for a few hours after that. The shower had revived him some, though he'd still felt groggy. Groggy and horny, an interesting combination.
"It must've happened while I was in the shower, but the medical examiner said the time of death was between two and three a.m."
"You showered at what time?"
"Sun was up, so probably around six."
"Why couldn't it have happened earlier?" Kit asked calmly, her voice soothing.
"How could I have slept through something so violent? Why didn't I notice when I first woke up?" That was the question that still plagued him. His wolf senses had failed him ‑‑ why?
"Tell me all the details you know. There's got to be something to make sense of all of this." She faced him with an earnest expression. He thought of Little Red Riding Hood conned by the wolf.
"Why are you here?" He wanted to reach through the bars and grab her shoulders, shake some sense into her. "You dreamed it, I know it, so why are you acting like you think I'm innocent?" She needed to think about her wellbeing, not his.
"Haden, focus." She snapped her fingers, the sound loud despite the raucous laughter from the next cell. "The point is I am here, and we need to figure this out. How did they find you this time?"
There were so many other questions that she could be asking, that she had the right to ask, but she was ignoring the nonessentials. He pushed aside his amazement as several facts fought for dominance in his brain. He recalled the sense of being watched one night, Angelica's strange scent, the search warrant, and the evidence they'd found in his desk. "Someone planted evidence in my work desk, something from Leslie's murder. They haven't told me what."
"Don't they have to give you that information?"
"My lawyer's going to find out." His lawyer, Tim Walton, had advised Haden that even if they proved him innocent of the murder, he'd likely face charges for forgery, bail jumping, and fraud. But his lawyer planned to argue that the stress of being falsely accused had caused him to act irrationally. Hopefully the judge would feel like he'd gone through enough.
But that was cart before the horse stuff. He'd not even met his lawyer yet. The man would arrive in Wolf's Crossing Monday morning to argue for bail. Haden prayed that owning the pub would show his standing in the community and prove that he wasn't a flight risk.
"If someone planted it, someone had to know who you were, right?" Kit's small fingers wrapped around the bars between them, looking dainty and out of place. "Any idea who?"
He shook his head. "That's what making me crazy. I haven't seen anyone from Wolf's Crossing in years, so not only would they have to know my true identity, they would've had to have access to my office."
"Who does have access?"
"Mostly Angelica, but when the pub's open, the place isn't exactly locked. I have safes for the cash and important documents." He'd mentioned to his lawyer that if he had kept a souvenir ‑‑ and why would he? ‑‑ he would've kept it at his house or locked it in one of the safes, not left it where anyone could get to it. Leaning his forehead against the bars, he remembered that Daniel had mentioned a warrant being issued for his house. "They're searching my house, too."
Kit grinned, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "All they're going to find there is bad décor, right?" She was trying to lighten his mood. He smelled her concern.
Should he tell her what else they might find? His notebook full of the articles about Leslie's investigation, the folder on his hard drive with files on everyone remotely connected to Leslie. Worse, the encrypted folder with his werewolf and shape shifter research. He had files and links on every were myth he could find. Also on wendigos, berserkers, shamans, anything that might help him make sense of his curse. He'd given up on finding a cure, but he'd hoped to discover others like him. Instead, he'd found fictional accounts, myths, and delusions.
"What are you thinking?" Kit asked, the images in Haden's mind too weird to make sense of. He was worried about the cops examining his computer. That part was obvious, but why encrypt a file with scanned images from Sasquatch articles? And why worry about the cops finding it?
"The cops might find some things they'll use against me, like articles about Leslie's murder," Haden admitted.
"But having those makes sense if you're trying to clear your name, right?"
"Does it?"
"Absolutely. And articles aren't physical evidence. That's what they're going to need."
He put his fingers over hers on the bars, warm and comforting. "Why do you believe me?"
She took a deep breath. Should she tell him her secret? Tell him about the hatred she'd sensed when they'd tucked him into the police cruiser?
"There's something about me..."
The buzzer sounded, signaling Daniel's return. Kit took a deep breath and glanced down the hallway. The sheriff wasn't alone. An older man and woman followed, the woman twisting her hands nervously while the man stroked her shoulder. They were both trim, matching in height, but the man's careworn face said early sixties, while the woman wore makeup to disguise her years. She moved with ease in her two-inch heels, which were black patent leather and seemed out of place with her polyester skirt and ruffly blouse. They didn't fit at all with the man's flannel and denim.
Kit couldn't read their thoughts as they drew closer, because Haden's memories suddenly overpowered her. Bittersweet images tumbled through his mind, and the force of his emotions tightened her throat. She wanted to cry from the love, the confusion, the sadness, the regret. His hand squeezed her fingers tightly, then he dropped his hands to his side to tuck in his shirt. Kit found herself straightening her shoulders in response.
"You're a popular guy today," Daniel said jovially, but Kit spotted the crinkling around his eyes that showed his concern. He stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest as the man and woman faced Haden.
"Hi, Mom. Dad." His fingers tapped on his thighs, and his mind examined the differences in their faces from when he'd last seen them. More worry lines, more stoop to their shoulders. They looked older.
"Aidan," his dad said gruffly, accenting the word with a curt nod. Kit sidled over to Daniel, feeling like a voyeur to this homecoming scene. Mrs. Blackthorne stretched her fingers on the bars. Kitty couldn't see her face, so she took in the other details. She had rich brown hair with highlights that Kit thought came from a salon. Her pumps were scuffed, but polished. Mr. Blackthorne wore work boots. His wallet puffed out his back pocket, and his salt-and-pepper hair swept his collar.
"We've missed you, son, so much," his mom said.
"I'm sorry, Mom." He lowered his head a bit, but after a hesitation, reached out to touch his mom's fingers.
She gripped him. "I love you, no matter what."
Again, Haden's emotions overpowered all others in Kitty's mind, flashes of an earlier jail scene with his mother crying and his dad red-faced and mad. He jerked his hand back and scowled. "I didn't do it."
"That's not what I meant..."
"I told you before that I didn't do it."
Mr. Blackthorne crossed his arms. "Hmph, hard to believe it when you run off. Makes everyone think you're guilty." He shrugged in Kit's direction. "Who's the woman?"
Wonderful way to meet her lover's family...in the hall of a jail.
Haden closed his eyes, struggling with his emotions. He opened them again. "This is Kitty Lazarus. She owns the store next to my pub."
"Your pub?" his mom asked.
"She ain't just some store owner if she's here," his dad said.
Haden met Kitty's eyes. They'd never defined their relationship, and a child didn't introduce someone as a "lover" to his parents if he could help it. "Well, Kitty's my girlfriend, too." It was almost a question, as if he was waiting for Kitty to deny it. She wouldn't. It was as good a description as any.
But she didn't know whether to offer to shake hands or hug or what. It was a confusing situation. His dad eyed her with suspicion. His mom seemed to shrink. She caught her thoughts. So many lost years, so much I don't know about my own son.
"I'm sorry to meet you under such...difficult circumstances," Kit offered. She smiled gently. "I take it you don't know about Blackie's Pub. Your son" ‑‑ she'd almost said Haden ‑‑ "has done an excellent job putting it together. It's quite the hot spot in Richmond right now."
"Richmond?" Mr. Blackthorne barked. He turned back to Haden, a storm brewing in his eyes. "You've been in Richmond all this time?"
"Not this whole time, no. I just returned to the States a few months ago." Being around his parents, Haden's accent seemed to slip into Appalachian Southern, but she could still hear a bit of Ireland in it. He sighed. "I came back because I wanted to try to clear my name, but I couldn't do it from a jail cell. I wanted to start the pub, increase my standing in the community."
"How would that clear your name?" His dad wouldn't give him an inch.
"It would give me the income to hire a private detective and time to do research from a safe distance. I didn't want to contact you until I knew the truth." Haden's eyes settled on his mother. "You've had enough heartbreak from me. I wanted to give you proof that I was innocent."
"Then you shouldn't have run," his dad spat.
Kitty heard a hear, hear loud and clear from Daniel's thoughts. Haden clamped his jaw, refusing to explain further, but his mind showed a wolf howling behind bars while his parents and Daniel pointed rifles at him. What did all these images mean? They pointed to an unbelievable conclusion, that Haden himself was some kind of monster. Kitty had a pretty freaky ability, but even with that, she didn't believe in vampires, Bigfoot, or alien abductions. She certainly didn't believe that her lover was a werewolf. His thoughts could be a metaphor for how he was feeling, like a trapped animal.
Daniel cleared his throat. "Well, folks, better clear out so I can get back to work." And give Aidan a break from awkward questions.
"But, Daniel, we've barely had time to talk to him!" Mrs. Blackthorne wrung her hands, her knuckles white.
"Ellie, he's right here. You can come by this evening. Why don't you go get some chow, maybe get to know Kitty here? She seems like a great gal."
Eek, now he was throwing her to the wolves! They'd ask her questions, and she didn't have any answers. "Um, I need to check in at the motel and call the store. Make sure my employees actually opened it this morning. Rain check on a meal, okay?" She wanted more time with Haden, but time alone so she could grill him. Poor man, he'd probably had enough grilling to last a lifetime, but his actions were hard to understand.
Mr. Blackthorne guided his wife away from the cage with his back ramrod straight.
"Kitty," Haden said, as she was about to follow.
"Yeah?"
"My name's really Aidan."
"Yeah, I gathered that."
He sighed, the weight of his past wearing him down. "And I didn't do it."
"I know."
\*
The town of Wolf's Crossing ranged from quaint to rundown and passed in the blink of an eye. The five or six stores facing Main Street sported fresh paint on both walls and signs. They housed antiques, high-end clothing, and a retro five-and-dime. She had the feeling the stores were new additions trying to look old. Posters in the windows mentioned Easter egg hunts and Earth Day celebrations. When she'd driven through at an agonizingly slow twenty-five miles per hour, Kitty had spied a Walgreens, a Food Lion, and a gas and service station that still had full-service signs.
The motel was also on Main Street, but much closer to the town line. Kitty had taken a hot bath and called the store, fending off as many of Marsha's questions as possible. She didn't have any answers, especially to the question of why she was here instead of back in Richmond. If Haden made bail, he could find his way home on his own. If he didn't, well, she couldn't hang out here until the trial. It made sense that she'd drive out here to make sure he was okay, so first thing tomorrow morning she should pop back in her car and zip home.
Good, decision made.
Or not.
Her stomach growled. It was late afternoon, but she'd skipped lunch, so she asked at the front desk for the best place to get cheap eats. There was a diner right next to the library. Perfect. She could get some food and maybe do a bit more research on Leslie's murder.
Not that it was her job to do research. This had nothing to do with her, and she was going home first thing in the morning.
Maybe.
The diner was practically deserted at this time of day. A waitress refilling salt shakers gestured for her to pick a seat when she entered. She found a booth and opened the menu. Grilled cheese, fries, Coke. Just the thing. The waitress, thoughts on achy feet and what to wear to the bar tonight, took her order and shouted it at the line cook. She went back to ignoring Kit as she switched from salt shakers to ketchup bottles.
Kit was practically in a Zen trance when the bell over the door tinkled again. Two men entered, voices raised in a heated conversation.
"You will get back to school. Don't give me this bullshit. I know why you came back, and you can just keep your nose out of it." The speaker was a man with thick blond hair slicked back in the perfect coif. The craggy face and sagging jowls gave away his age, probably mid-fifties. He was tall and well built, wearing a suit and red tie.
The younger man stalked to a table and gave the waitress a demanding look. She responded immediately by snagging the coffeepot and two cups, but she was rolling her eyes in her mind. Kit grinned as she sipped her Coke. Obviously the waitress was familiar with these two. The only read Kit could get from the younger man was anger directed at his father, no words, no pictures. He seemed to be in his mid-twenties and wore a preppy outfit ‑‑ khakis, pastel polo, loafers ‑‑ making the meat on his arms seem out of place. Someone who dressed so blandly should not have muscles like the Incredible Hulk. He obviously enjoyed hours at the gym. Personally, Kit didn't like quite that much bulk on a guy.
The dad's thoughts consisted of a running monologue on his son's many faults. Geez, if he'd said even half of that out loud, his son probably had a major inferiority complex, and no wonder he was angry. But once the duo was seated and had placed their orders, Kit began to get something from the son, not images, more like a red haze over his father's face as he looked at him. His features distorted, the wrinkles growing deeper, the jowls sagging to his chest, the mouth melting until only jawbone remained.
The waitress arriving with Kit's food broke the spell. She realized she'd been staring at the two men, which was a social no-no, so she forced a smile to her face and thanked the waitress, whose nametag read "Linda."
Conspiratorially, Kit whispered, "Who are they?" as if she was just after some juicy gossip. Was the son the one she'd sensed outside the pub when Haden was arrested? She'd never encountered such a visual representation of anger before, almost as if his "self" had been taken over by it.
Linda leaned down and responded in an even lower voice, "The mayor and his son." Then she grabbed Kit's glass. "Time for a refill. Be right back."
Damn, she wanted to ask her more questions, but they'd be overheard, anyway. Maybe she could catch the waitress alone later. She munched her sandwich and fries, not really tasting them as she tried to eavesdrop, but as if sensing their audience the two men lowered their voices. The mayor was mentally comparing two women from his past, judging by the clothing and hairstyles. Lots of hair on both ladies, skintight jeans, big hoop earrings. Late seventies, early eighties, maybe? One of them looked familiar, and Kit realized who it was when the mayor thought her name. Ellie. Haden's mom. Who was the other lady? His wife? An old lover? Why was he thinking of them now as he looked at his son?
Finding her plate empty, Kitty decided it was time to leave. She wanted to check out the library before it closed. Hopefully, she wasn't already too late. It wouldn't be open tomorrow, since most libraries thought of Sundays as a day of rest.
Libraries used to instill peace in Kitty. She loved the smell of books and the mantle of quiet, but that same quiet amplified everyone's thoughts making it impossible to concentrate. Because of her "gift," she'd lost another haven. Now she reserved books via her library's Internet service and went in long enough to pick them up when they came in.
The Wolf's Crossing Library, so close to the diner and motel, was housed in a converted rancher with a wheelchair ramp and long, horizontal windows. She guessed it might've been built in the sixties or seventies from the architecture. Inside she found cheery, modern colors, especially in the children's section off to the left. To the right, in what used to be the living room, signs read "Biography," "Large Print," and "New Releases." She headed straight to the back and debated the Internet versus microfiche for her research. Unless they'd computerized the local papers, in which case, the debate was moot. Finding the reference desk, she asked just that and discovered that they'd scanned in everything from the year 2000 on. Anything else was still on the microfiche. Perfect.
The librarian led Kit to the computer room in the back of the building. She passed a teen engrossed in an Internet role playing game at the first computer and a man playing poker on the next. The librarian settled Kit into her own cubicle, since she'd sounded interested in serious research. The librarian's thoughts made it plain what she thought of everyone coming into this bastion of books to play stupid games.
Kit asked the librarian a few questions, until she thought she had a handle on how to surf the library's cache of scanned newspapers, then she was left on her own. She'd start with Leslie's murder, then see if there were threads that would direct her research elsewhere. She only had a couple of hours before the library closed.
\*
He'd recognized the video store owner, of course. How did Aidan instill such loyalty so quickly? His brother ‑‑ half brother ‑‑ had an unfair ability to charm women, but sensing Kitty had allowed him to get a grip on his anger at his father. If he'd let it grow, he might have lost control of his beast and ripped the man apart right then. He'd never killed a man, and he needed his father's connections, so that wouldn't do at all.
No, wait, that wasn't right. His beast couldn't come out until the full moon, so if he'd ripped his father apart in daylight in the restaurant, it would have to be with his supernatural strength, not with claws and fangs.
That made sense.
He pictured the scene. First his father, the wailing, the blood, the fear, then Aidan's woman, cowed by the carnage, crawling on her knees to him, begging him to spare her.
No, he didn't want her to beg him to spare her. He wanted her to offer herself to him as a sacrifice.
Again he pictured the scene, but this time it ended with Kitty crawling to him, her butt moving gently from side to side. When she reached his leg, she slithered up it, hands first, rubbing her whole body against him. He was growing hard just thinking about it.
Thank God, his father had run off for "an important meeting." He didn't need the bastard ordering him back to UR. So what if he missed a couple of classes? Seeing Aidan behind bars was far more important...and satisfying.
Kitty had eaten her sandwich and left the diner, and he'd watched her cross to the library and go inside. He wondered why Aidan liked her so. She wasn't as voluptuous as Leslie or Angelica. He'd always preferred taller, long-legged ladies with gold in their hair. He'd assumed Aidan did, too, since he'd loved Leslie. He was disappointed in Kitty, but that could be fixed. He wanted to try chains and cords instead of rope. She would look beautiful entangled in black and silver with a leather mask covering her face. Or he could dye her hair yellow and bind her in a corset to plump up her boobs.
He left the diner and wandered into the library. Hmm, where had she gone? His supernatural scent should tell him, but maybe she used magic to block it. Well, she hadn't left, so he'd hang out in the anime section until she reappeared.
He'd really hoped that Brother would find Angelica attractive. He'd ordered her to be receptive to that, to follow through if he propositioned her, but he'd rebuffed her attentions. Very disappointing.
The memory enticed him again. It was his favorite fantasy, because it had actually happened. He'd made it happen. He'd bested Aidan for once, confounded him.
It had started with watching them together. They'd watched movies, boring movies. That part had taken forever while he'd lost the circulation in his legs from his crouched position in the bushes outside. Mosquitoes and spiders had feasted on him, but he'd drawn on his supernatural reserves to remain completely still. When Aidan and Leslie had finally started making out, he'd felt free to move. Aidan's hands had roamed under Leslie's shirt, making her giggle at first. Then he'd done something ‑‑ pinched her tits, maybe? ‑‑ and she'd moaned. She'd clutched his shoulders and widened her legs and rubbed against his body. He couldn't hear the sucking and kissing sounds through the window, but he could imagine them. He grew a pike in his pants as they'd stripped naked, unaware of their watcher.
Leslie's breasts had enticed him. They were big, like musk melons, and had tan lines from her bikini. The aureoles were a brownish pink, and the nipples were hot fuchsia. He'd almost licked the window imagining his mouth in place of Aidan's. Brother suckled her as his fingers trailed down her stomach. His cock, ramrod stiff, rubbed her inner thigh. He'd stared at it, fascinated by it, the thickness, the almost purple color at the head. In the showers after gym class he'd tried to catch glimpses of the other guys' peckers, just for comparison's sake, but if they caught him looking, he'd be stuffed in a locker. It wasn't worth the risk. But that night he'd looked his fill. That had turned him on, too.
Leslie's pussy hair was blonde. Aidan had trailed his mouth down over her stomach until he'd reached that mecca of fur. Her thighs had wrapped around his ears, and her feet tapped his back as he tasted her. Whenever he lifted his face to look at her, his jaw glistened from her juices.
Watching them fuck, he'd found himself undulating against the bush. Not very comfortable or satisfying, so he'd unzipped his pants and grabbed his pecker. Leslie was the hottest woman he'd ever seen in his life, but she only had eyes for Aidan. She'd called him "Richie Rich, the Rich Geek" and told him to go play with girls his own age.
He'd show her.
He'd squeezed and stroked, jerking off to the rhythm of Leslie's moans. He'd imagined them inviting him over to the couch, asking him to join them. He'd imagined Brother offering for him to sample Leslie's cream. And while he licked her clean, Brother would suck his shaft reverently, deep into his throat.
That last picture, combined with watching Brother's hips as he slammed Leslie's hole, had his hand racing on his rod. Jerking off had never felt this good before. He wanted it to last, but it was too much. The cum spurted all over the branches. And, later, the blood had spurted all over the sheets.
\*
"Looks like you're sprung," Daniel chirped Monday afternoon.
"Oh, thank God." Haden had thought his lawyer was never going to get the details worked out with his bank, especially with the name change issue. The judge had set the bail astronomically high, with a stern warning that Haden was to check in with Daniel or the court weekly until his trial date, which wasn't scheduled until late June. Then he'd had to leverage the pub and his house, but since he'd already mortgaged the house and had loans on the business, the bank had needed some convincing.
And that was just for the down payment to the bail bondsman.
Haden felt sick to his stomach just thinking about his money issues, but that was nothing compared to the fear that he'd be locked up during the full moon. He could feel it, even now in the middle of the day, calling to him. It was almost full.
Kitty had come by yesterday with theories and a suspect list that had consisted of just about everyone in the town. Her criteria: "anyone who isn't you." Then she'd showed up in court this morning. Haden had tried to tell her to go home and run her business, but she'd just smacked him on the shoulder and told him not to be stupid. He wasn't trying to be stupid; he was trying to be gallant and self-sacrificing, but he was no match for her naïve pigheadedness.
Daniel escorted him through the gates to the front lobby, and there he found Kitty waiting for him. How'd he get so lucky, anyway? He'd wanted to take over her store, and here she was trying to get him off of a murder charge. He didn't deserve it, but since she was his ride back to Richmond, he'd take it. Getting back to Richmond so he could lock himself up again ‑‑ God! ‑‑ had to be priority.
Fifteen minutes later, Haden ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. "What do you mean, we're not going back to Richmond? We have businesses to run, and I told the court that's where they could find me." He stood on the sidewalk in front of the sheriff's office, facing Kitty. He could smell Daniel's amusement, though his old buddy kept out of sight, probably peeping out the window. But it was Kitty's scent that enthralled him, that and her flashing eyes and tempting curves.
Her right hand perched on her hip, emphasizing her determination. "Going back to Richmond is not going to solve your problem. We have to figure out this whodunit. I told you yesterday that I have a bunch of ideas."
He'd had far too much time to daydream in Daniel's jail cell, and Kitty had starred in every one. He'd held her phantom body in his arms late at night as he'd dozed on the bunk, and he'd relived each and every sex scene from the past month during the day as he'd twiddled his thumbs. His body hummed with unspent sexual tension, increased tenfold by the waxing moon.
And here she was in front of him in the flesh. All he wanted to do was get her somewhere private and rip off her clothes. Instead, he tried to concentrate on winning the argument.
"If it was that easy to solve, don't you think I'd have done it by now? Hell, don't you think Daniel would have?"
"But I have something they don't." A shy smile appeared, faded.
"Yeah, what?"
She frowned. "I can't tell you here. There're too many people around."
"I don't see anyone." But he could smell plenty. This town was full of gossiping busybodies. "Just tell me, dammit, or this discussion is over."
"Says he who doesn't hold the car keys." She dangled the aforementioned objects in front of him with no idea that he could snatch them from her in the space of a blink. If only he could tell the world his secret, then he could stop feeling so impotent.
Daniel's guffaw boomed through the doorway.
"Told you there were people listening." Looking smug, Kit tucked the keys into her pocket.
"Well, there's not much else to do in this damn town." His hair had to be standing in straight spikes, considering the number of times he'd raked his fingers through it. It was the only thing keeping him from throwing Kitty over his shoulder and marching her to the car. Someone would probably call the cops, knowing his luck and reputation.
"Let's go to my motel room," Kitty suggested. She smelled excited in a nonsexual way, and her eyes glowed with enthusiasm. Or was that the madness of a conspiracy theorist? Whatever. Giving in to her will seemed the safest option at this juncture. In privacy, he'd convince her to take him back to Richmond in plenty of time before his change. In privacy...he'd never keep his hands off her.
Millie's Motel brought back some seriously fond memories for Haden. He and Leslie had lost their virginity in one of these rooms, the one on the far corner facing the woods. And he and Daniel and a couple other guys from his class had partied at the motel on more than one occasion. He'd also spent a couple of days here trying to figure out what was happening to his body when it had started sprouting fur and fangs.
Kitty unlocked the door and dragged him inside. She pushed him back onto the bed and stood over him, eyes narrowed. "So you and Leslie came here?"
Had he said that out loud? No. "Did someone tell you that?" But he knew that wasn't the answer.
She turned away and started pacing, of all things. Finally she plopped onto the bed next to him, leaned in, and whispered, "I have a secret to tell you."
His gut tightened. He knew how big his own secret was, so he tried to prepare himself for whatever Kit was about to tell him. His insecure mind came up with a million possibilities: she was seeing someone else; she wanted him out of her life; she planned to sell his story to the tabloids.
Apparently not satisfied by his lack of response, she asked, "Are you ready?"
"Yup, hit me."
She pulled his head down to hers, as if someone had a glass up to the door and might hear her otherwise. "I can read minds."
Oh, now that was unexpected.
But it explained a lot.
But it was impossible.
Just like being a werewolf.
"You can read minds?"
She nodded.
"The whole time I've known you?"
She nodded again, biting her lip in that cute way she had when she got nervous. And he could smell her nervousness. She was worried he'd reject her, wasn't she?
But then he thought about the wolf, and the seriousness of this revelation hit him. "You can really read my mind?"
Kitty pinched her lower lip between her thumb and finger, realized what she was doing, and dropped her hand, only to go back to biting her lip again. She jumped up and resumed her pacing. The green, threadbare motel carpet muffled her steps. "Sort of."
"What do you mean, sort of?"
"Okay, it's like this." She stopped walking. "With most folks, I hear their thoughts in a monologue and see accompanying pictures or films, Technicolor and all. With you, I don't get all the information. Sometimes it's like I'm inside your body seeing what you see. Other times, it's just flashes of images with a word or two thrown in. In other words, I don't get the context." She paused to study his face, and he couldn't shake the feeling that her eyes were X-rays peering into his soul. "I don't know why you're different."
Haden knew why, or he guessed, anyway. "That's how you knew I'd come here with Leslie just now?"
"Yeah, you were picturing the memory in your head."
He blew out his breath. Well, damn, that was embarrassing. No one should have to see his fumbling attempts to make love to Leslie that night, especially not another lover. He hadn't exactly brought Leslie to orgasm that first time...or the second or the third. His face heated. They'd been so young. Leslie's breasts had blossomed early, exciting him each time he caught a glimpse when she'd leaned over at her locker. His own body had stayed slim and gawky until his twenties.
He inhaled, exhaled. "So you saw Leslie dead?"
Kitty nodded. "In the dream."
"In the dream."
They stared at each other. Haden knew this was the perfect opportunity to explain the wolf to her. She'd shared, now he should share, get the deep, dark secret out into the open. But that made him vulnerable in a very different way, vulnerable to derision, tabloids, blackmail, scientific experiments.
"See, like right now you're picturing being strapped to a table in a government lab. If anything, it's me they'd strap to a table." She nibbled her thumbnail and a tinge of fear tainted her scent. She gazed past him, staring at nothing.
"What is it?"
"Just a memory."
He pulled her into his arms, and the bedsprings creaked, reminding him that they were alone in a hotel room. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She sighed and laughed a little, shaking herself. "Maybe later. We've got more important issues right now. You're not going to be a very good boyfriend if you're in jail."
He grunted agreement. "I hope it was okay that I said that to my parents. I didn't quite know how to introduce you." He should've said something else, something that wouldn't have raised her expectations.
Throwing her arms around his neck, she pecked his lips. "I certainly don't mind being called your girlfriend."
"Even though I'm a murderer?"
"Well, I'd prefer we disprove that part, if you don't mind."
He kissed her again, breathing in her vanilla scent. Their lips lingered together, grazing each other, electrifying his nerve endings. When he opened his mouth wider, she mirrored him. He pressed firmly against the O of her lips, felt her warm breath enter his mouth. Pushing his tongue inside, he tasted the mintiness of toothpaste or gum.
The moment had passed to tell her his secret. Relationships didn't last forever, while the wolf would never leave. If Kitty became an ex with his secret, his life could be in danger...or so he reasoned. The problem was Kitty's ability. She might see the wolf in his mind whether he told her or not. She'd already seen glimpses in the dream.
He should tell her, get it out in the open.
Fucking chicken shit.
Thing was, if he didn't get back to Richmond right away, then he might not have to tell her. He'd show her, and trusting him might be the last mistake she ever made.
Kitty's fingers stroked the side of his face, a gentle contrast to her forceful kisses. Her ass pinned his hard-on in place, agonizing but irresistible, while her breasts pressed against his chest. He had to touch her.
Unfortunately, Kitty remembered her plan.
She scooted off his lap and leaped to her feet. "We don't have time for this. We have interviews to do." She grabbed his hand and started for the door. "There's a town load of suspects out there. We just need to get close to the right one, and ‑‑ whammo ‑‑ we have him."
It was hard to resist such a force of nature, though his body protested. "Are you sure you wouldn't rather stay right here in bed?" He had one more safe night, but tomorrow he'd leave for Richmond with or without her.
\*
"What do you mean he made bail? It's a murder charge, for chrissake!"
Daniel scowled at the mayor's son, The Beefcake Without a Brain. What the hell did this asshole care about Aidan, anyway? Or Leslie for that matter? He didn't have to explain, but for the sake of peace, he said, "He leveraged his pub, so I guess the judge figured he'd show up for court."
"That's fuckin' screwed-up logic. He's facing a capital murder charge. Why the fuck would he care about the pub? He's going to run. You should arrest him again."
Daniel rose slowly from the desk chair, knowing he would tower over this sorry male, even if Richard was twice his breadth. He hoped the mayor's son would creep away and leave Daniel the hell alone so he could finish his reports. "What does any of this have to do with you?"
"I care about the safety of the citizens of this town."
"You mean your safety? Why don't you crawl back to Richmond and let me handle my job as I see fit? Don't you have classes to go to?" If it had been the mayor himself, Daniel would've had to show respect and put up with this shit, but the mayor's son was a sniveling weasel. The town would be better off if he left for good.
"I'm going to talk to my dad about this!"
"You do that."
"See if you get reelected after you set a murderer free."
"See if you have any damn say in the matter." He patted the butt of his gun and made sure Richard noticed the action. Finally, the psycho started backing away from the desk. As Daniel watched him stalk through the door to the street, he thought about Leslie's case. Maybe there was a suspect or two they'd overlooked. Time to run a complete background check on the mayor's son.
\*
"Where do we begin?" Haden's long strides had Kitty struggling to keep up. "I mean, it seems like I've covered all the ground before."
She hadn't wanted to stop the make-out session in the hotel room, but too many questions, ideas, and doubts had smothered her enjoyment. Well, she had enjoyed every second Haden's lips had covered her own, but she had to have priorities. "I'm thinking Leslie's family, Daniel, schoolmates, and a hypnotist."
He stopped dead in the center of the sidewalk, jerking Kit to a stop beside him. "Say what?"
"Well, Daniel will be able to tell us all the avenues he explored."
Haden shook his head, reminding Kit how soft his hair had felt threaded through her fingers. "The hypnotist part. Why the hell would we need a hypnotist?"
She struggled to recall her logic while her body flushed warm from recent memories. "Supposedly, you don't remember the murder, right? But supposedly it took place while you were asleep, and not while you were in the shower. I'm thinking a hypnotist might help you recover memories you didn't know you had."
Haden was picturing her with red horns and two heads. Not a good sign.
"No way in hell am I getting hypnotized!"
"Is there something you're afraid of?"
"Hell, yes! Quacks!"
Kit tsked, while tugging him along to the diner, careful to touch only his shirt and not the strong, lean muscle underneath. She wanted to talk to Linda, the waitress. Waitresses often knew all the good gossip, plus she'd arranged for Haden's parents to meet them for dinner. She just hadn't had a chance to tell him yet.
Her research at the library had given her the pertinent information. Leslie's family's names, where she'd lived, where Haden had lived, statements from kids who knew them at school, coworkers. Everyone had assumed that the couple would marry since they'd been sweethearts since high school. There'd been speculation on what was taking them so long, but no one had the scoop. A flame of jealousy had sprouted as Kitty had read about what a great couple they'd been, but it certainly didn't make sense to be jealous of someone who'd lost her life so young, so the emotion had changed to pity mixed with anger. The murderer had messed up more than one life.
Then she remembered something she needed to tell Haden. "Um, so we're meeting someone."
But Haden had seen his parents through the window. The picture was crystal clear in his mind, and therefore, in hers.
He gripped her shoulders. "Kitty, what did you do? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Other things on my mind." Too many things as usual. She sighed. No room for herself, her needs and desires, not even her own memories. Someday she needed to address that issue.
Haden's hand on her shoulder distracted her. "You know my dad could very well make a huge scene in there?"
"Be brave, and I'll try to remember to call you Aidan."
He looked perplexed, then spit out a laugh. "Yeah, you do that."
The warm glow spread in her gut, but even that was cut short as they entered the diner, and the zoo of thoughts accosted her. Not caring how deranged she looked, she took the time to stare at each patron and arrow in on their specific thoughts. Everyone knew Haden either personally or by reputation, and they all had opinions on whether he should've been let out on bail. A few folks dared to greet him with a nod or curt wave. He responded in kind, his lips clamped in a firm line. It had to feel like walking a gauntlet, and Kitty ached for him, but she also knew it had to be done. He couldn't run this time, not if they were to have any future. And even though the timeline wasn't of his making, he'd obviously planned to stop running when he'd moved to Richmond. It didn't make sense to come back to Virginia otherwise.
Kitty greeted Haden's parents, then immediately excused herself to go to the bathroom. The hall led to the kitchen, so she waited to catch Linda.
"Hi, remember me?"
"Yeah, do you need something?" The waitress's clipped tone and guarded eyes caught Kitty off guard. She'd seemed friendlier earlier.
Well, no beating around the bush, then. "I was hoping we could talk about the town gossip. I'm guessing you hear a lot of it."
"And right now, you're the one I'm hearing about the most. Look, I don't have time to talk." She pushed past Kitty, leaving behind a trail of thoughts. What gall to think I'd help her when her boyfriend's a murderer! I've got my own life; I don't need to get involved in anyone else's. She should get her ass back to the city. Does she think he's innocent?
Damn, that had not been fruitful. Daniel, still in uniform, stood near Haden's table, chatting. His seemingly casual actions told onlookers to give Haden the benefit of the doubt. A brave move for someone in his position. Kitty admired him for it, and she could tell Haden did too.
Kit paused near the jukebox, picking up on someone's memories. Leslie was such a slut, and he didn't even know it. Or did he? Maybe that's why he murdered her. She was a damn good kisser, though. The man's memory of those kisses in the boys' locker room now had the rosy fog of time covering them. He sat slouched over a cup of coffee at a table across the room from Haden and his parents. His stringy hair was tied back in a ponytail, and he wore a Nirvana T-shirt and two hoop earrings.
Haden's eyes pinned Kitty, and as she wound her way back to her seat, his thoughts willed her to get back to the table to provide a buffer. Daniel had moved off to chat with other folks. Kit returned his greeting as she sat down and opened the menu.
"What's good here?" she asked his parents, hoping her voice sounded casual and friendly. Haden's father scowled.
"The hash is good," Mrs. Blackthorne said.
Kitty pursed her lips. Hash was not her thing. Maybe a juicy hamburger. Suddenly the memory of the steak Haden had cooked for her on their first date popped into her mind, and with that she recalled the sizzling desire she'd felt, the erotic images that Haden had had playing in his head. She crossed her legs and cleared her throat. She couldn't think about that with his parents sitting right here.
"This place is hopping, isn't it?" she remarked as two more folks walked through the door.
"There's an Italian place up the road, and the pizza place delivers, but otherwise there's not much choice," Haden explained. His fingers tapped the plastic menu. They stilled when he looked at Kit, but whenever he looked at his father, they'd tap a drum solo.
"Should've opened your pub here."
"Somehow I doubt that would've gone over well."
Anger and violation kicked Kitty in the gut. Her gaze flew to the door. A woman with red-rimmed eyes and puffy lips stood there, glaring fire at Haden's back. Oh, Lord. Leslie's mom. Mrs. Blackthorne's thoughts identified her, as did the accusations in Mrs. Sheffington's mind. Haden's nostrils flared as every diner stilled. He identified her in his mind without even turning around. Why did I let Kitty talk me into this? He stared at Kitty's face as she watched the distraught woman approach. Haden turned. Better to face the threat than keep his back to it.
Or not.
"How dare you!" Mrs. Sheffington slapped Haden, the sound echoing in the silent restaurant. A red handprint stained his cheek, and Kitty wanted to cry at the memories she read from the woman's mind. Leslie at birth, small and wrinkly, her first tooth, her first day of kindergarten. She remembered the day she'd first said "Mama" and her first scraped knee. She thought of how gorgeous her little girl had looked in her prom dress and how studious she'd looked in her cap and gown. Memories too painful to stay with, but Kitty had no choice. Mrs. Sheffington's powerful emotions overrode everyone else.
Ignoring her smudged eyeliner, she pointed, her hand shaking. "You should be dead by now, injected, electrocuted, whatever. How dare you run! You should have taken your punishment like a man, you coward! And how dare you come back here to rake this all up again! How dare you!"
Haden wore a stony mask, but he was crying inside, in almost as much pain as Leslie's mother. He had memories of this woman chatting with him as he waited for her daughter, memories of her taking pictures before prom, of her asking him when he was going to pop the question. The grief bubbled over, and Kitty found herself sobbing. She hoped everyone ignored her, because she had no right to cry here. She'd never met Leslie. She was the interloper.
Linda set a glass of water in front of her, and Kitty gratefully sipped to wash away the tightness in her throat.
Three more folks entered the restaurant, largely ignored with the high drama of the victim's mother confronting the murderer. Thing was, Mrs. Blackthorne noticed the newcomers. Ricky...
Kitty looked up. It was the mayor, his son, and a woman, presumably his wife. The mayor had spotted Mrs. Blackthorne, met her eyes. Mrs. Langtree followed her husband's gaze and flinched when she saw Mrs. Blackthorne. The two women locked stares, like a duel. He's mine. I've taken care of him all his life. I'm the only mother he's ever known. Kitty wasn't sure which woman the thought came from, so she wasn't sure to whom it referred. What did it mean, though?
Haden stood abruptly, stepping into Mrs. Sheffington's pointed finger and slamming his chair back. "I'm leaving. I have no wish to give you more pain."
As he said this, he marched toward the front door, all eyes on him. He drew the attention of the mayor's son, and Kitty suddenly felt the cold and familiar hate, a very different kind of emotion than Mrs. Sheffington's grief and rage. The red haze clouded the young man's vision as he glared at Haden, who swung open the door and stalked down the sidewalk.
Damn, where the hell was Haden going? If she didn't catch him, she had no doubt he'd hitch his way back to Richmond. But now she knew who'd been watching him when he'd been arrested. Maybe she could learn more.
Oh, screw detecting. Haden needed her now. She dashed through the restaurant, escaping the seething emotions for the calm night.
\*
"Dammit, dammit, dammit," Haden mumbled, pacing in front of Kitty's motel room. The second he spotted her coming around the corner, he stretched out his hand. "Give me the fucking keys. I'll drive. We're going back to Richmond. Now."
Kitty paused about five feet away, out of reach, keys nowhere in sight. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.
"Give me the goddamn keys!"
"Nope."
"Fine. I'll find another way back." He couldn't call one of his employees because it would take them forever to get here. He wanted to leave this second, and he couldn't even rent a car at this time of night in this town. Shit. He'd take the keys by force if he had to, and the woman wouldn't be able to stop him. She didn't know whom she was dealing with.
For the first time in his life he was longing for the full moon, for the uncontrollable change, for the chance to run unshackled into the mountains and howl away his pain.
He sat down on the stoop and put his head in his hands.
She approached tentatively, sat down next to him, and put her arm over his shoulders.
He wouldn't cry. He hadn't in all these years, not for Leslie, not for the injustice he'd suffered or the life he'd lost.
Then why were his fucking cheeks damp?
She hugged him tight, not backing away, not shaming him. He smelled her concern, her heartache. She understood his pain, and she just wanted to be there for him. A precious gift.
After a while, she helped him stand, not that he needed help, and led him into the motel room. She held him without question or platitudes. He ached for Leslie's parents, and he understood why they hated him, but the loss of their love killed him. They'd loved him like a son, waiting for the day he'd ask Leslie to marry him.
Except that he never could ask her...because of the wolf. She hadn't known his secret, and he'd been afraid to tell her.
Kitty pulled him back from the edge of the memories with sweet kisses along his brow and cheeks. She ran her thumb along his outer ear and down his jaw. He listened to her easy breathing, her steady heartbeat. She smoothed her palms down the length of his chest, calm, slow movements, everything she did designed to soothe. And it worked at first, making him feel drowsy and sedated, but as she continued her long, relaxed strokes, a new awareness eased to the fore.
"God, you smell so good, like greasy French fries." He tugged her hips closer and sniffed along her neck and ear.
"Um, thanks?"
He nipped along the same path. "You taste good, too."
"Like French fries?"
"Hmm, saltier, sweeter."
She shivered.
She brought one of her legs over his thighs, straddling him as she put her arms around his neck. Her glossy lips reflected the room's low light. He leaned in for a taste. She replied by tracing along his top lip with the tip of her tongue. Haden held his breath as she did the same to his bottom lip. Then she smiled.
"Like that?"
"Kind of tickled." But his husky voice betrayed the state she'd left his body in. "Stick out your tongue."
She did, eyebrows high in question. He opened his mouth and captured her protruding tongue with his teeth. He sucked it until their lips met, palming the back of her head to keep her close. The kiss deepened, became multilayered, with tongues dancing, lips pressing, teeth scraping. The gentleness disappeared, replaced by urgency, a perfect outlet for his emotions.
But he didn't want to hurt her. She must've sensed him backing off or read his thoughts, because she said, "I can take it, Haden. You don't have to be gentle."
He growled.
And with that the barriers came down. Clothes flew, littering the floor and furniture. He wasn't sure whose hands had removed what, and he didn't care. The poly-blend comforter and blanket followed. The top sheet stayed in place, and they'd never opened the curtains, thank God. Haden paused for a moment to listen to the room beyond. Silence. Good. Less chance of a noise disturbance report.
He planned to fuck Kitty until she screamed.
He ran his hand down her naked thigh, and the skin heated from the friction. He kissed her ankles, her shins, her knees as she held perfectly still. Was she reading his thoughts? They were a confused mess, even to him, but his lust grew, helping to dull his pain. He'd bury himself in Kitty, forget everything else.
He shimmied along Kitty's supple skin until he could see her eyes. "Spread your legs," he whispered. "I'm going to fuck you...hard."
Miraculously, she obeyed, though her eyes were wide. He positioned himself between her thighs, circled his hips until his cock nudged her wet hole; then he pushed inside of her to the hilt. She whimpered, and her eyes rolled up.
"God, you're so wet, so tight."
Her thighs clutched him, her fingers raking along his back, nails digging in. Though it hurt just a bit, it also excited him. He found his rhythm, in and out, and felt her body give more and more, welcoming him, surrounding him in lush hot flesh. Then she'd tighten her muscles, squeezing his cock, forcing him to go slower, to savor every inch of his retreat. He moaned.
She responded to a particularly hard thrust by biting his neck. He relished the physical pain. She met him thrust for thrust and worked her hand between them so she could massage her clit as he closed in on his climax. His heart hurt, his soul hurt. He couldn't stand to feel the pain, so he listened to Kitty's moans and tried to make it go away.
It was only after he'd come inside her that he realized he hadn't used a condom.
\*
Haden drowsed, warm and comfortable, next to her, so Kitty hated to bring up the scene in the diner, but she thought she'd learned something vital. "Haden, do you know the mayor's son?"
"Vaguely." He pried his eyes open and tucked his arm under one of the pillows. "What's his name? Richie Rich..."
"His name is Richie Rich?"
"No, that's what we called him. He's Richard the Third. He was in middle school when we were seniors, but at the time middle and high school were in the same building. He was a nerd who followed us around a lot." He yawned and closed his eyes again.
"Did you do more than call him names?"
"Nah, and I don't even think we called him Richie Rich to his face. We weren't like that, but he was kind of a pest, and we were always afraid he'd tattle to his dad, like when we had beer and pot at parties. What on earth made you bring him up?" He opened his eyes again, barely.
"Did you see him at the diner when you left?"
He shook his head, face grim. "No." And she knew he was reliving the scene with Leslie's mom.
Kitty took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. How to explain this? "I think he hates you. I mean, really hates you, and he was watching you when you were arrested in Richmond."
"What?" That shocked him. "You saw him?"
She shook her head. "No, I saw through him. He was watching you, and I felt...hatred."
Haden paused. He'd had the sense of being watched a couple of times when he'd left the pub, and there'd been that smell he couldn't put his finger on. "But it doesn't make sense for him to hate me that much. I barely know him, and I'm sure Leslie would've had the same amount of experience with him."
Kitty rubbed her thumb on Haden's chest, liking the fact that they were lying next to each other, naked. "Well, he's someone we need to talk to. Just getting close to him for a bit longer may allow me to get a better read on him. Maybe he killed Leslie."
Whoa, she shouldn't have said that, because Haden immediately pictured ripping the other man to shreds. She smoothed the lines of anger from his brow. "Remember, we need to prove he did it, if he did, and hand him over to the cops so you can go free. Tearing him apart will not help your case any."
Haden's eyes narrowed, then he laughed self-consciously. "This gift of yours takes some getting used to."
"And what I like about you is that you seem willing to get used to it."
But then, she was of use to him right now. Would he feel the same once they caught Leslie's murderer?
\*
"Damn it to hell! He took my fucking car!"
"Do you want to file a police report?" Daniel asked, carefully covering up his smirk with a file from his desk.
"No, but I need a ride back to Richmond." Kitty could not believe the man she'd comforted last night had stolen her keys and left town while she'd slept. He'd left a note, something asinine about having a business to run so she knew where he'd gone, but still... "Fucking asshole!"
"Probably shouldn't be calling the sheriff that, ma'am," one of the deputies commented, obviously not following the conversation very closely.
"It's okay, Mac. She's just a little vexed, and not at me luckily." Daniel took Kitty's elbow and directed her toward the door. "Cover for me, though. I need to give this lady a ride home, so I'll be gone for a few hours." Once they were outside, he directed her to a black SUV with the blue strobe on the dash. "Doubt we'll have a lick of crime while I'm gone, since Aidan provided the most excitement that we've had for months."
"Maybe you should try working in Richmond for a while."
"A bit too much excitement there." He held the door open for Kitty. She slipped in and fastened her seatbelt.
"I thought I'd convinced him to stay and investigate. He could've at least told me he was leaving." She sighed.
"Could've found another car."
"That too."
\*
The sheriff had dropped Kitty off at home by early afternoon. She greeted Fergie, showered and changed, then felt totally guilty leaving her poor dog again to head into work. She peeked into the pub, planning to give Haden a piece of her mind, and was shocked to find he hadn't come in at all. Well, shit. That man still had her car.
Marsha was happy to go back to being a non-employee again, but first she wanted the scoop on the whole Haden-not-Haden melodrama. Gina listened in eagerly. Of course, she was less than thrilled to hear she'd still have to close up because Kitty needed to track down her car.
The thing she wasn't telling either of them was that she was afraid Haden had skipped town again. She didn't want to think it. She'd assumed he'd be right where he'd said, running the pub...except he wasn't.
Kitty took a cab to River Road around six p.m. and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her car sitting in the semicircle drive. She paid the cabby and trotted up to the front door. Haden didn't answer the bell, so she knocked. The sun would be setting soon, evident by the sudden cluster of gnats by the fountain, and she needed her keys at the very least. The man was trying her patience. How many other women would put up with a beau living under an alias and who was wanted for murder, then also stole their car? None, that's how many! Kitty banged with her fist and looked around for something harder to use before her skin split open. Her heart was in her throat, and her stomach had a queasy feeling. Had she eaten today? No. Another strike against her so-called boyfriend!
If he had run off, jumped bail, after she'd put her faith in him, she was going to kill him, that was all there was to it!
The sun sank behind the tall oaks and maples adorning the property, casting the porch in shadow, though the sky directly overhead was still blue. Kitty decided to poke at the pots and the mailbox in hopes of finding a spare key, when suddenly the door swung open.
"What are you doing here?" Haden demanded. "Why didn't you leave?" His eyes seemed to burn with an amber fire, while his face was cast in shadow from the foyer chandelier behind him. His face seemed craggier, partially from a pronounced five o'clock shadow, and maybe from lines of anger and worry in his brow and around his mouth. He looked fierce, dangerous, and Kitty suddenly wondered at the wisdom of letting the cabby leave her here alone.
"You took my car." She cleared her throat so her voice wouldn't squeak quite so much. "You said you had a business to run, but then you didn't go to work."
"You need to get out of here...now."
Why wasn't he inviting her in? Why wasn't he happy to see her? What had she done?
And why couldn't she read his mind?
She hadn't registered that factoid at first. Not picking up images from Haden's head was very unusual. Nothing, not even a reflection of herself standing there, not even a flare of his anger. She was completely disconnected from him.
Haden, gripping the door, glanced up at the darkening sky. A single star twinkled in the twilight. He shuddered. "Get out of here," he said, and started to shut the door.
Kitty cried out, first a non-word of shock, then, "I need my keys!"
Haden groaned. "The moon..."
Kitty followed his gaze and saw the silver-orange disc just beginning to rise over the trees. When she turned back to see what the problem was, Haden was gone, the door still open.
"Haden? Haden! Dammit to hell! I need my keys!"
She stepped across the threshold, scared spitless because of the man's actions. Had she read him all wrong? Was he the murderer after all? If so, then she fell under the category of "too stupid to live" if she kept walking into his house. But she needed her keys. She wasn't going to walk all the way up River Road after dark, and houses weren't exactly side by side in this area.
Maybe I should find a weapon?
Then she remembered the scene in the backroom, how Haden had effortlessly lifted and lowered her onto him without breaking a sweat. The man was stronger than anyone she'd ever met in her life. No weapon short of a gun would protect her against him. She closed the door behind her, locked it, and took a deep breath. Maybe she was too stupid to live, but she had to trust that her belief in Haden's innocence wasn't wrong.
She had to.
Just like she had to find out what the fuck his problem was!
Another deep breath and she moved forward, peeking into the empty living room and kitchen. She stopped dead when she heard the howl.
Bone chilling was exactly the word for it.
It was long, high-pitched, and completely out of place anywhere near the city of Richmond. When it ended, the silence seemed more pronounced. Kitty walked slowly down the hall toward the bedroom, listening to the scuffling and scratching sounds and the tiny whimpers. It sounded like Fergie when he was tied up against his will, like when she'd first moved into her house and had him locked in the bathroom while the moving men brought in the rest of her furniture. Maybe Haden had bought a dog. If so, was it meant as a guard dog? That could be dangerous.
The bedroom was empty, but the office door was cracked, illuminated by the light behind it, and that was definitely where the noises were coming from. Kitty checked the bathroom and closet, calling out Haden's name softly. No answer. Finally she pushed on the office door.
And a wolf reared at her.
A wolf the size of a Great Dane, with eyes of amber fire, yelped and howled and scratched the floor. The rut in the hardwood floor was evidence that this wasn't the first time. The close walls were covered in claw marks. The wolf's rear legs were cuffed with some kind of high tech device with glowing lights and a timer and attached by chain to the weight machine. The front legs were free. Kitty cowered in the doorway, a mere foot from the animal, too shocked to move. Finally the wolf calmed down and sat back on its haunches, the intelligent eyes fastened on Kitty's face. Her cheeks were damp with tears and she was having a hard time breathing, and suddenly, she had to pee like a racehorse.
She shut the door to the office and raced to the bathroom, chased by the wolf's muffled howls. That's when she realized the padding on the office walls was a sort of soundproofing.
"Okay, okay, Haden has a pet wolf, no biggie."
But then, where was the man?
She went to the bathroom, washed her hands and face, then returned to the bedroom to sit on the end of the bed. The wolf alternated from seeking escape by scratching whatever it could to calm silence. She pictured him in her mind: gorgeous, sleek gray coat mixed with black and brown, huge paws, long fluffy tail and pointed ears...and the biggest, sharpest fucking teeth she'd ever seen in her life.
"Hyperventilating will not help you think better."
All she needed from this bizarre situation was her keys. If she could find her keys, she could go home and chalk this up to a nightmare.
But she had to look in the office again, like the scene of an accident you can't turn away from.
This time she noticed that beyond the weight machine was a desk with a computer and a leather captain's chair. Corkboard covered the soundproofing on two sides, and pinned to that were articles and images that she couldn't quite make out from her vantage point beyond the curious wolf. The animal again sat watching her. Just like Fergie, she couldn't read its mind, but she knew there was something it was trying to tell her. Or maybe her subconscious was trying to tell her. Something terribly obvious that she just couldn't wrap her mind around.
That the wolf had Haden's eyes.
How much time had passed? Kitty lay on Haden's bed in the dark. She'd shut the office door again, noticing the heavy locks that hooked on the inside of the door, as if the wolf was supposed to operate them. The wolf had watched her curiously, without reaction. Once she'd settled on the bed, she heard it sniffing, then nothing again except its breathing and her own breathing and her gradually calming heartbeat.
Okay, logic applied meant that she should call the cops, or maybe animal control. She was sure keeping a wolf in a house was against zoning in the county. And maybe the cops should know about Haden's disappearance. She spied the pile of shredded clothes on the weight bench. Jeans, briefs, and a T-shirt.
But he hadn't really disappeared, had he?
And this is where logic and instinct disagreed. Logic told her she had fallen off her rocker. How could she think for one single moment that the animal in that room was her boyfriend? But instinct and most of the bones in her body knew that wolf.
And the wolf had Haden's eyes.
Ohmygod, ohmygod! She thought of calling Marsha, who was sure to be the voice of sanity, or even Daniel, who'd be the law on her side, but she just knew.
She knew who the wolf was.
The wolf waited, hungry, but knowing he had to be patient. He hadn't had time to bring in the food. He'd been distracted from even locking the door, but though he could smell the blood coursing through the woman's veins, she didn't smell like his prey. He hunted the sick and the weak. Game, like elk, moose, deer, rabbits. She smelled like none of those. She smelled, instead, like vanilla and home and sex and familiarity. He thought he knew her, but not in his wolf form. He sniffed again. She also smelled like fear, but he sensed that fading. Good. The scent of fear would drive him mad with hunger. Instead, he sat patiently until she came back to him.
Kitty approached the office again, opened the door. She realized the light came from a ceiling fixture. Just past the weight bench, there was a plastic dish with a two-liter bottle full of water attached to it. It was one of those dishes that would automatically refill as the dog drank the water. She'd thought of buying one for Fergie, but had never gotten around to it. No dish of food, though. The wolf had stretched out, laying its chin on its forepaws, eyes still open, watching her. She sat down Indian-style and put her own chin on her palms, elbows on her knees. Around two a.m., keys forgotten, she fell asleep, head against the wall, vaguely aware that she'd pay for this position tomorrow with a serious crick in her neck.
\*
The change happened quickly. One minute he was the wolf, the next he was a naked man stretched across a scored hardwood floor, cuffed to a weight rack. And a few moments after the change, the cuffs popped open. He always checked the Internet for the exact time for sunrise so that he wouldn't be trapped any longer than necessary. Thank God for the simplicity of the timer.
He used to wonder why it was sunset and sunrise rather than moonrise and set, but it was just one of the mysteries of his nature. Maybe if he ever tracked down someone like him, he could learn the answer. If there was someone like him anywhere.
He sat up and stretched, ravenously hungry, aware that he hadn't had even a snack last night. Stupid of him. He usually prepared better, but something had distracted him.
Kitty.
The moment he thought of her, he grew aware of her scent, of the soft sound of her breathing and the steady thump of her heart. He turned and saw her curled up on the floor just in front of the open door, head cushioned by her hands, asleep. He wanted to carry her to the bed, make her comfortable. Would she wake, though? Would accusations begin? It was so peaceful in this moment, just watching her sleep.
He stood, stretched, muscles more relaxed than they'd been in a week. His wolf slept soundly, unencumbered by nightmares or worries, and sometimes that was just what his body needed.
He scooped the sleeping lady up into his arms and carried her over the threshold into the bedroom. She made a vocal sound, but it wasn't a clear word, then she settled back into sleep as Haden placed her on the bed and covered her with a sheet. He lay down next to her and noted the dark shadows under her eyes. She needed more sleep and less worry. Having him around gave her neither of those.
So she had to know now. Right? Could she possibly have spent the night here and not figured out the truth? No. She wouldn't have stayed. But if she knew the truth, why stay?
His body responded to a different kind of hunger. He'd not thought to throw on a shirt or pants. Nude suited him. He grew hard as he watched her sleep, breathed in her scent, and stared at the rise and fall of her chest under the thin sheet. He thought of placing his lips where he knew her nipples would be. He thought about the wet circles he would leave on the sheet.
"Do that to me," she murmured, opening her eyes just the tiniest bit. "You're turning me on with the pictures in your head."
He reached out and stroked his hand over the sheet, caressing the mounds underneath.
He pictured himself on top of her, inside of her, her mouth open, gasping.
"Do it," she said.
He pictured kissing down her stomach, along her pelvis and down her inner thighs. He imagined holding her clit between his teeth for a breath of time, then licking her folds. He listened to the increase in her breathing and heart rate. He smelled her arousal as it grew, and he marveled at her ability to read his mind and how the images there turned her on so completely.
He thought about opening his mouth to discuss what she'd seen, what she now knew about him, but she smelled so sexy, so welcoming. He climbed on top of her with the silk sheet trapped between their bodies. His heavy cock settled between her open thighs. His hands braced on either side of her, trapping her arms under the blanket. He leaned down and kissed a path along the side of her chin, the skin delicate and tender. He traced the shape of her jaw with the tip of his tongue and nibbled the outer edge of her ear before finally lowering his open mouth to her neck to suck at her skin.
She moaned, and her whole body undulated in response. He pressed his hips down and lifted his lips from her neck to place them on the mounds under the sheet. He bit gently at her breasts, tasting the silk instead of her skin. He listened to every response she had, every change in breath, every sigh, every groan, until he knew she burned for him.
It crossed his mind that he should talk to her, figure this all out sensibly, but his beast was barely leashed after the first night of the full moon. She was here, and she was willing. She'd never smelled more aroused, and her hips were bucking against him uncontrollably, obviously unhappy with the cloth blocking the way.
"Haden, fuck me, fuck me, please. I need you inside of me."
He wanted to ask her if she was sure. Didn't she think she'd made a mistake with him? Didn't she want to run away now? But he kept all those questions inside, responding only to what she said over and over.
"Fuck me, please."
He lifted his body into a push-up so he could rake the sheet out of the way. Kitty's breasts were still hidden from view, this time by shirt and bra. He slid the shirt up, and she helped him by raising her arms. He didn't bother unhooking the bra, just grasped that with the shirt and tugged. Now he could see the pert and firm mounds of her breasts. He leaned in for a taste, taking turns sucking and nipping, again concentrating on Kitty's physical clues, the ones that signaled pleasure. She unsnapped her pants and pushed at the waistband until he took the hint and yanked them off. Once she was bare, her musky scent overpowered him, and he buried his face between her thighs, lapping at her juices, toying with her clit. He licked anywhere that would give her pleasure, around her nub, at the mouth of her vagina, inside even. She spread her legs wider and settled them on his shoulders and moaned.
"Haden, I'm ready. Come inside of me."
He lifted himself up, poised to bury himself inside of her. Last time they hadn't used protection. Did she realize that? Once was a mistake, but he wouldn't risk it again, so he clawed at the drawer, found a condom, and put it on. Her fingers rhythmically squeezed his biceps as she waited, until finally he entered her.
Heaven.
The magnetic pull of the moon called to him from beyond the horizon. Power rolled through his body as he thrust into Kitty, and suddenly he was afraid of losing control.
"Haden, I feel...something." She couldn't have said what it was if her life depended on it. It was an intensity, a glowing, a heat, but none of those things. It was a connection, like drawing the power of the moon into their bodies. It was memories, ancient memories shared by the wolves, instinct, scent, hunting, the kill. All beautiful, natural, glorious.
Kit's orgasm took her by surprise. One minute she was bathed in the moon's glorious power, and the next she was back in her body, replete with pleasure, sated, shaken. She kept her legs clutched around Haden's thighs as he tensed. One final thrust brought him to climax as well. It was only then that she became conscious of the aches and pains brought on by a night on the floor ‑‑ she vaguely remembered falling asleep in the little room with the wolf's intent stare on her. Haden collapsed on her for just a moment, his weight comforting, but then he rolled away and sat up.
She watched as he stripped off the condom, keeping his back to her. His shoulders seemed higher than normal, tense. He stalked to the bathroom, and she felt his anger, though she still couldn't see the thoughts in his head.
The anger hurt a little. Why was he angry at her? Hadn't he enjoyed the sex?
Of course, dingbat. This has nothing to do with sex.
She listened to the water run as she sat up and redressed. Keys. She'd feel better if she had her keys in hand, even if she didn't leave. It would be cowardly to leave, just like it was cowardly to hide in the bathroom. Men tended to either throw keys down somewhere or put them in their pockets. Haden's jeans from yesterday were in the small room, so she went in there and patted them down. The answering jangle yanked a sigh out of her. Thank God. She put the keys in her own pocket, then went out to sit on the bed. The man couldn't hide in the bathroom all day.
Haden appeared, dressed in a fresh pair of jeans. Kitty could finally see the pictures in his mind again, but they were even more disjointed than usual, and some were even in black-and-white. She saw a forest and heard a rapid heartbeat, smelled the foliage and the blood, heard the crackling of branches underfoot, saw the white moon through the silhouetted leaves. The color images showed her Haden as he skulked out of the motel room with her keys, and the scenery he passed on the drive back to Richmond.
"Are you ready to talk?" Kitty asked. "Because I sure as hell am."
He raked a hand through his hair. "Why did you come here? Didn't you stop to think it was dangerous?"
"Why would I think that? You're my lover. I've been here before. You had my car."
"It was damn dangerous. You just don't know how close...God, how close you were to being ripped up by a wolf."
"I was perfectly safe."
"Only because I ran back here to put the cuffs on."
She rose and touched his arms where they were crossed over his chest. "You wouldn't have hurt me even without the cuffs."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"You could read the wolf's mind?"
"Nope, not at all, just like Fergie."
"Then you don't know that! I could've killed you!"
"I was not your prey and never will be."
He grabbed onto her shoulders. "How do you know that?"
"I was with you just now. I felt the moon's power. I saw your memories, the shared memories of your kind. I know."
He pushed her back and stalked over to the window. He brushed back the heavy drapes and peered out into his heavily wooded backyard. "That doesn't make any sense."
She laughed. "Like any of this does? Like my power to read minds does? Like you being a shape shifter does?"
The phone ringing startled both of them, the sound as loud as a bullet in the room. Haden snatched up the receiver on his bedside table. He pictured Daniel the minute he heard the voice, so Kitty guessed it was the sheriff checking up on her.
"No, I'm pretty sure she's not going to press charges for car theft. Do you want to talk to her?" Haden abruptly handed her the phone.
"Hey, Sheriff. Yes, he's a scoundrel, but no, I'm not going to press charges. Yes, I'll kill him if he jumps bail. Seriously. No worries. Thanks." She hung up, a bit of a smile on her face. Daniel was one funny man.
"Like you could stop me," Haden huffed.
She put on her best don't-try-me-boy expression and finally drew a smile out of Mr. Grump.
"I'm beyond starving. Breakfast?"
She nodded and followed him to the kitchen. He cracked a dozen eggs into a huge skillet, added a touch of milk, and scrambled them before shredding some aged cheese on top. "What do you want to ask me?"
Kitty bit her thumbnail. "What makes you think I want to ask you anything?"
"Because it's like you're drilling a hole in my back."
She sighed and gave in to her curiosity. "How long have you been this way?"
"Since I was a teen." He once again pictured the mirror before him as he sprouted fur and fangs. "But I think I was born with it. The changes started with puberty. I didn't catch it or get bitten or anything like that."
"But you were adopted, right?"
"Right."
"So are there others like you?"
Haden sighed heavily as he deposited a portion of the eggs onto Kitty's plate while keeping most of them for himself. He poured them each some OJ and set the coffee pot to percolating. "Not that I know of."
"There have to be. Wolves have packs."
"I don't."
"I bet you do somewhere." She dug into the eggs.
"I've looked." He tried to maintain the veneer of civility, but he was ravenous. He practically inhaled the eggs, then threw half a pound of bacon onto the skillet. He always ate a lot on the days in between changes, usually raw or very rare meat like pork, venison, or lamb. That was part of the reason he couldn't go into work even in his human form. The animal was too close to the surface.
He went on with his story. "I've researched as much as I could on the Net and in the old libraries of Europe. There are lots of references, lots of myth and legends, plenty of pure fiction, but nothing that said, 'Here we are, your pack.' Maybe I just don't have the knowledge to delve deep enough, but I couldn't hire a private detective with my background."
"We'll find them, right after we solve Leslie's murder. No problem."
He shook his head at the insanely naïve and very confident woman. "You always amaze me."
She smiled. "Give me some bacon, and let me see if I got this straight." He dumped a couple of slices onto her plate. "You change on the nights of the full moon. How many nights?"
"Three."
"Why three?"
He shrugged. "The pull seems strongest."
"And you lock yourself up. Have you always done that?"
"Pretty much. I woke up in the middle of the woods once, naked, and that was enough." He didn't want to think about that embarrassing scene since Kitty would likely pick up on it, so he shoved some bacon in his mouth and thought of the first place he'd used as his hideout. It was in the woods outside of Wolf's Crossing in an area that he thought was technically owned by the Langtree family, but that everyone used during hunting season and for hiking and picnics. There was an old cabin, which had proved to be the perfect spot.
"Does anyone else know?"
"No." Geez, he'd said that a little more brusquely than he'd meant to.
"You didn't even tell Leslie?"
"No one knows...except you."
Kitty sat back. "You make that sound a bit ominous. Planning to eat me to eliminate the witness?"
"Jesus Christ." He jumped up, really upset that she might think that about him, but then he saw her lip tremble. She was laughing. "Goddamnit!" He sat back down, relaxed a little, and pretended to think about it. "You know, that might be a damn good idea. Then I won't feel so damn hungry anymore. Two birds with one stone."
Her eyes twinkled. "What else do you have to eat?"
He threw on some sausages in the pan next and poured them each a cup of coffee.
"So you need to be here for two more nights, right?" He nodded. "Then we should go back up to Wolf's Crossing, so we can interview people. We've got a killer to catch."
"Kitty..."
"I can read minds, remember? You're not banging your head against the same wall, trying to find evidence. We'll figure it out, and we'll prove it, I guarantee."
"But you have your own life to lead." And she'd be safer all around if she didn't involve herself in his mess.
"My life's not very exciting, anyway."
\*
Kitty spent the next day getting her store back in shipshape. Marsha had been a lifesaver, but she wasn't management material. She'd fallen for Gina's "picture Roger swelling" excuse out of camaraderie and had let Matt call in sick one day, without reminding him that he'd already had the chicken pox once that year, so the shelves were in chaos, and the receipts and paperwork would take days to organize. She'd also promised to look in on the pub. Haden had glossed over his reasons for avoiding work when he didn't change until nightfall, so it was definitely something she'd have to grill him on later. She wanted to know all about this were thing since she had one for a boyfriend.
She was really looking forward to tonight, though, going home to Fergie, spending some time completely alone. She needed to think, and she couldn't seem to manage that anywhere else. Sometimes her life just seemed to get sucked up in other people's issues. Was she doing that with Haden, too? Even if she was, she couldn't desert him now. He needed someone on his side.
With that thought, she ambled into the pub and sat down at the bar.
"It's a bit early for a drink," Emilio said pleasantly. "How's the boss man?"
"He's okay. I'll just have a Coke, then I have to get back to work. How is everything going here?"
Between what he actually said and what he thought, things were running fairly smoothly, but he had the feeling deposits were piling up. Angelica was competent, but she was also a basket case. He really didn't know what was up with her, but something wasn't quite right.
When Kitty finished her drink, she decided to ask to see Angelica, see if she needed any messages passed onto Haden. Emilio let her into the back, and she met the assistant manager halfway down the hall.
"Why would I need you to pass on a message? I hear he's out, and I'm perfectly capable of picking up the phone."
Does she know what I did? I'll be fired. I can't be fired. I like this job, and I'm good at it. Why did Richard have to use me like this? I wouldn't have done it if I'd known. And when is he coming back to town, anyway? He didn't even call today. I need him to punish me for doubting him. I need him to make this all make sense again. And the face she pictured sitting across from her pouring wine was Richie Rich. That explained a lot.
Back at her store, she called Gina and Matt both in.
"Okay, either you two don't want your jobs anymore, or you're going to fix this mess the way you know it's supposed to be done." She gestured at the shelves and knew from their thoughts and their expressions that they understood exactly what she referred to. "I've got to go out again. I'll be back before close, and I expect to see a spotless store." She rarely used her "boss" persona, but when she did, the teens knew she meant business.
And now she knew who to investigate for Haden's case. But where to begin?
\*
Richard couldn't believe his eyes. The woman sat under a tree talking to his roommate. He watched her lips and imagined that he had the super hearing of a wolf, but he still couldn't make out what she said. The moon made him weak. Of course it did. Every month, he needed to remind himself of that, but he'd been so shocked to see Brother's woman here on campus. He studied her profile and imagined her as a blonde. She might do, but he preferred Angelica. She looked more like precious Leslie, and she was so obedient and so beautiful twined with ropes. Pure art. The purest.
He followed the woman as she left his roommate. She walked along a familiar path to one of his classrooms, but instead of going in, she waited for the professor to appear. She spoke to him as well. Why was she here? Why was she talking to his colleagues?
Brother had sent her! Of course.
Richard played with the short length of cord in his pocket. It was the end piece of the design he'd created on his angel last night. He needed to do something, but what?
\*
The wolf stared at her sleeping form. This was the third night she'd waited for daybreak with him. She didn't mind curling up on the floor with a pillow in the small room. He sniffed the air and smelled the dog. He was familiar too. Why did she come to see the wolf? She could wait until morning and be with the man instead, but she spent time with both of them.
\*
"I'm sorry. I think Richie's gone to Roanoke for the day," Mrs. Baker said with a friendly receptionist smile.
Mayor Langtree's receptionist sat behind a large wood desk topped with a blotter, neatly stacked papers, and a notebook computer, her mind multitasking at a frenetic pace. Kitty tried to match the impersonal friendliness of the professional, but was sure she failed miserably. At least she'd talked Haden into staying with the car. Two weeks had passed since his release, so the town seemed a bit calmer about the whole thing, but better to not risk making the interviewees nervous.
Two frustrating weeks of getting no closer to proving Haden's innocence had passed, though Kitty had learned far more about Angelica and Richard's love life than she ever wanted to know. The two were into Dominance and submission with some bondage, and Kitty was pretty certain Richard had used Angelica to plant the evidence against Haden ‑‑ a lock of Leslie's hair ‑‑ but they had no way of proving that. So now they were back in Wolf's Crossing, because Richard had supposedly returned home for a bit.
"Mrs. Baker, is that...?" Mayor Langtree peeked his head out of his office, spotted Kitty, and stopped speaking. Apparently, seeing Kitty answered his question. He walked up to her, arms held stiffly at his sides. "And what may I do for you, young lady?"
That man has put Ellie through hell. Doesn't he realize that? He should've stayed hidden. Seeing him convicted's going to kill her. The mayor was picturing Haden sitting in the car out front. He'd obviously spotted him before coming out here.
"I was looking for Richard, actually," Kitty said.
"And what has he to do with you? Are you one of his friends from U of R?" I doubt it. She's not dressed well enough, and she's hanging out with him.
"Oh, is that where he goes? University of Richmond? That must be why he looked familiar. He probably comes into my store." She pasted a friendly, innocent smile on her face. She'd spoken to his roommate at the university and learned that Richard tended to party hard and that he was popular because he often provided the alcohol. His professors found him a little conceited, with a tendency to take the lazy way out, but he got his work done and kept his grades up.
"He's a grad student there," Mrs. Baker supplied, obviously proud of him. She pictured him as a little boy with a scraped knee and a tearstained face, comparing that with the image of him receiving his bachelor's degree.
The mayor glared at his employee. He didn't trust this young lady because of who she associated with, pure and simple. "Your store?" he asked politely.
"I own a movie rental store right down the road from UR."
"Is that how you know the Blackthorne boy?" He again pictured Haden's mother, but at a much younger age. She wore a leotard and leg warmers and carried a bag on her shoulder, like she was heading to a workout.
"Yes, his pub just opened next to my store."
"Aren't you leaving your store unattended?"
"Oh, it's in good hands. Thanks for your concern."
"What do you want with Richard?"
"Just that, actually. He looked familiar, and I was trying to place him. Haden knew who he was, but not why I would know him."
The pub is near UR? Did Richie know? Did he call the police? If Ellie finds out...
"You mean Aidan, don't you? The murderer?" God, if Ellie heard him say that, she'd have his balls, but he needed this woman to leave his office.
Kitty scowled. She wanted to preach about innocent until proven guilty, but in this town that didn't matter, especially since Haden had run the first time, and he couldn't exactly explain why. "Well, thank you for your time. Perhaps I'll run into Richard later."
\*
Back in the car, Kitty turned to Haden and asked, "Did the mayor date your mom?"
"Huh?" He hated waiting in the damn car, letting his lover do his dirty work. Unfortunately, no one in this town wanted to talk to him, and he needed the information. Still, it made him feel damned impotent.
"Is your mom's first name Ellie?"
What did his mom have to do with anything? "Yeah, short for Eleanor. Why?"
"And did she date the mayor?"
His mom date Richie Rich's dad? No way in hell. "No. Mom and Dad were high school sweethearts who married right after graduation." Like he'd planned to do with Leslie, until he'd realized he couldn't marry her because of his secret.
Kitty's scent had taken on a nervous quality. "What year did they marry?"
Haden paused, mentally reviewing the calendar. "Nineteen sixty-seven...I think."
"Okay." She paused. "No, not okay."
"What?" Maybe he didn't want to know. "Spill it."
"It's just that he was picturing your mom in clothes that had to be eighties. He kept referring to her as Ellie, and he was thinking about her a lot while I was standing in the office. And at the diner, your mom really noticed him when he came in, even with all the other stuff going on."
"He is the mayor. Mom doesn't hang out with important people like that, so of course, she noticed him. And I can't see how this has a thing to do with Leslie."
"Nothing to do with Leslie as far as I can tell, but I don't know..." Kit sighed. "Richard's in Roanoke apparently. I doubt it would help our cause to follow him there."
"What next, Sherlock?"
Kitty sat in silent contemplation for a few moments, while Haden scowled up at the mayor's office.
"Did Leslie have a best friend?"
"Me."
"I mean a girlfriend, someone she would've confided in."
He wanted to say that she always confided in him, but he knew what Kit meant ‑‑ someone she might've told secrets to that she couldn't tell him. He thought back to their high school gang. Daniel, Joe Claigan, and Bob Moran had been his best buds, but what about the girls? There was that mousy one...what was her name? Carol, that was it, but he doubted Leslie would've confided in her. Then there was Virginia Moran, Bob's sister, who was two years younger. Would they have hung out after graduation, though? Probably not.
Haden had disappointed Leslie by not asking her to marry him that summer after high school ended, but it was after he graduated from Northwestern and still didn't offer her a ring that their relationship strained almost to breaking. He'd had the feeling she was keeping secrets from him, and he was keeping them from her, so why not? Neither one of them was working in the fields they'd studied. It was like they were holding each other back by hanging onto old patterns. She'd worked at the hair salon then, and there was one coworker she'd mentioned a lot.
"Maybe Wanda Leg."
"Wanda Leg?"
"Well, I think her last name was actually Legmueller, but she told all her clients at the salon to ask for Wanda Leg."
"So maybe we can still find her at this salon?"
"It's been a lot of years, but some people don't change, do they?"
"Nope, but that might work out in our favor."
\*
"Why here?" Angelica asked, a bit cranky from the long drive, especially when she found herself at a cheap motel that looked exactly the same as several motels in Richmond. She'd kind of hoped that he might invite her home with him to meet his parents.
"My angel, I need to do something to put your boss in jail for good, something that will convince a jury absolutely that he is the guilty party." He slipped on a pair of latex gloves. "I've been thinking about it for some time, and I finally came up with the perfect plan."
"What does that have to do with me? And why here?"
"This is closer to my home, to Leslie's home. Not too far to travel, but not close enough to get caught in the act. Do you see?"
Of course, she didn't see. He was making no sense at all, and lately he'd gone strange across the board, so she'd spent the long drive to Roanoke rehearsing what she'd say. "So you're never going to take me to meet your parents?"
"No, I am not, I'm afraid."
"Then I'm afraid I'm not going to play your little games anymore. I'm tired of being tied up. I'm not art. I'm a woman who wants a real relationship, not some sicko perverted one..." Her words trailed off seconds after Richard stabbed the needle into her neck as the contents of the syringe emptied into her bloodstream.
\*
The Wax 'n Roller Salon was crowded at two in the afternoon, and Haden knew he stood out like a sore thumb. The men of Wolf's Crossing used the barbershop or the el cheapo place out at the mall. They didn't come in here unless they were gay. He caught Kit's mischievous smile and wondered if she was reading his thoughts. Well, she could have no doubt about his sexuality. He'd bend her back and give her a deep kiss right now if it would protect his reputation.
Apparently such drastic measures were unnecessary since the lady at the desk ogled him. He didn't recognize her, so that meant she probably didn't know his story. That was good. "May I help you?" she asked.
"Is Wanda still here?"
"Benson or Leg?"
"Leg."
"Yup, she's here." She gestured to the back of the salon near the sinks. "Do you want an appointment with her? She's booked until four."
Time to use his charm. He leaned against the counter and glanced briefly at the receptionist's cleavage. When he looked up again, she was blushing and smelled just the tiniest bit aroused. "Any chance we could borrow her for just a moment? We won't take long. I'm an old friend."
She winked. "Sure. I'll get her."
Kitty rolled her eyes as she watched the lady scoot across the long room, wiggling her butt the whole time. "What did you do to her?"
"Admired her. Ladies like to feel admired."
"True, but ladies also don't want their man looking at someone else's you know what."
He grinned. "Jealous?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Lucky for you, I can read your mind."
Wanda walked to the front, her hips swaying, probably to help her balance on her outrageous stilettos. Hairdressers were on their feet for hours ‑‑ how could she wear those things? Kit quashed another flare of jealousy. These women meant nothing to Haden. He was picturing Wanda as she must have looked a few years ago, a few pounds lighter with just as bad a sense of style.
"Aidan, honey, long time no see." She took his hands as if they were close friends, ignoring Kitty completely.
"Wanda, how are you doing?"
"Fine, honey, and you are looking fine yourself, now, aren't you? Where've you been? I heard folks were looking for you." A blatant understatement. Kitty started picking up Wanda's thoughts, which ranged from Haden in handcuffs with Daniel in his sheriff's uniform to Daniel shirtless to Haden naked with handcuffs attached to a headboard. Good Lord!
Haden brushed off her questions and got right to the point. "I was wondering if you could help me remember people Leslie was hanging out with...before her death."
"She was hanging out with you mostly." But Wanda was searching her memory, and Kitty was picking up the snippets: phone conversations when Leslie was talking to someone other than Haden and dropped hints where Leslie alluded to a younger man who liked to play kinky games. "Once a car came for her, one I hadn't seen before. Think it was a Lexus. I didn't see the driver."
"Did she ever mention a name?" Kitty asked.
"She talked about Daniel sometimes and Joe and Bob, but I thought they were your friends. She didn't talk about dating any of them."
"What color Lexus?"
Wanda thought back. "Dark. I dunno. Green, maybe." Her memory showed tinted windows, but she hadn't seen the license plate from her vantage point. "Sorry I can't help more. Seems a shame for a specimen like you to get locked up."
"Yeah, thanks," Haden said with a wry voice.
"By the way, are those fellas out there for you?" She gestured to the plate-glass window behind them.
"Holy shit, why are all those cop cars out there?" Kitty breathed.
Haden shook his head. "I didn't know this town even had that many cruisers. This can't be good."
Kitty gripped his hand. One of the officers was checking out her car at the curb, then looking at the salon. The sun glinted off the rim of his sunglasses making him look sinister, or maybe that was Kitty's apprehension getting the better of her. Pretty soon most of the customers and stylists inside were standing, peering out the window, to see what was going on.
"Should we go outside and make it easy for them?" Haden asked.
"Maybe they're not after you."
"What do you think the chances are?"
Kitty didn't want to answer that question. "But you're out on bail, and you certainly haven't jumped it since you're right here."
A final cruiser pulled up, and Daniel got out.
"Come on," Haden said. "These ladies have had enough excitement."
Actually, they'd probably enjoy some more. Most of them had a greedy glint in their eyes at the thought of juicy morsels of gossip. Kitty guessed that Haden would rather not provide that for them.
They stepped out the front door. As soon as Daniel was within a foot of Haden, Kitty started picking up the images in his head, images that no one should have to see...ever. Kitty cried out. She couldn't help it.
Haden jerked his head in her direction. "What's wrong?"
"It's horrible."
Then Daniel pulled out the cuffs, jerked Haden around, and started reading him his rights.
"What's going on?"
"There's been another murder," Kitty whispered.
Now Daniel was looking at her suspiciously. "Just how did you know that?"
"Lucky guess," Haden said quickly. "Is she right, then? Another murder? Who? Where?"
"I've advised you of your rights. I recommend you don't talk until your lawyer is with you. I'm serious, man."
Then Kitty saw the face as Daniel remembered watching the ME turn over the body. She cried out again, but bit her lip hard to keep from saying the name. She didn't want to get Haden into any more trouble, and she knew this time he was in really deep.
Haden was still in shock. His bond had been revoked. He was remanded until trial, and trial wasn't until June fifteenth, more than a month away, more than a full moon away.
He'd smelled Kitty's fear out on the sidewalk and had known she'd seen the victim's face. Daniel had formally stated that he was being arrested for the murder of Angelica Meyerton, and that's when he'd actually thrown up on the sidewalk and the sheriff's shoes. He wasn't at all sorry about the shoes.
He could only imagine what Kitty had seen, what Daniel had seen, based on his memory of Leslie. Angelica's throat had been ripped out in exactly the same way, and she'd been deposited in the woods behind Wolf's Crossing Central School. No one should have to see something like that, and he felt especially bad for the kid who'd found her while sneaking a cigarette.
At least this time he knew without a shadow of a doubt that he was innocent. He hadn't blacked out, and he'd been with Kitty most of the time for the past two days. His lawyer did not have the autopsy results yet, so no time of death. He hoped that would allow him to provide a definite alibi, but the lawyer had warned him that Kitty's word might be doubted since she was the girlfriend. More than that, he thought the judge would be very unlikely to let him out a second time unless the prosecutor dropped the charges.
None of that mattered, though, because his lawyer was talking about evidence to be presented at trial. There was only a week until the full moon.
Finally, Daniel escorted Kitty down the hall toward his locked cell.
"I see we have the place to ourselves," she commented the minute the sheriff left them alone.
Haden pointed at the cameras mounted in the corners.
"Yeah, but they don't have sound."
"Daniel told you that?"
"His brain did." She grinned.
"So are we plotting my breakout?"
"If we need to, but we've got a week, right? I looked it up on the calendar. I've already told Daniel everything we've learned about Richard, including his trip to Roanoke. We just need to trace Angelica's movements. Emilio says she wasn't at work the same day Richard was in Roanoke. If we can prove she was with him, then..."
"Then they might still hold me over for trial for Leslie." Haden sighed. "And if they keep me in here during the full moon, I'll become a freak show or a science experiment."
Kitty reached her hand through the bars. "Maybe you should tell Daniel what you are. He could keep anyone else from finding out, then you'd be safe in here."
Haden gripped her hand. "What if that proves to him that I did it? Friend or not, a monster is a monster, right?"
"You are not a monster, and after this is over, I think we should hunt for others like you. I know they're out there."
"Kitty, I love your constant optimism, but you don't know that."
"It just makes logical sense." She stroked her thumb over his palm. "But that's for a later time. Right now we've got to crack this case. Daniel is looking for other women who fit Leslie and Angelica's description, to see if there are any other crimes that match."
"Which could mean more murders pinned on me."
"But it might show that you're not the connection, especially if they took place while you were in Ireland. Maybe instead we can show a connection to Richard."
"Okay."
"We've got Emilio and Chris's testimony that they saw Richard and Angelica together at the pub when you weren't there, but that's slim because they're your employees. Daniel's also looking into Angelica's friends now, and he's hoping to find others who knew she was dating Richard."
"And to think Daniel only got Cs in high school."
"Daniel is good at his job. You can count on him, but that doesn't mean we're going to leave it all to him. Now the thing that still bothers me about Leslie's murder ‑‑ and I think it bothers you ‑‑ why didn't you hear anything?"
"I thought that maybe I was too close to the change, that maybe I even changed."
"I think you only came close after you saw and smelled the blood. We rechecked the time of death, and it had to be during the night, so I think you were drugged."
He replayed the memory. The movies, the lovemaking, then a completely undisturbed sleep. "If I was drugged, then the whole thing was planned to make me look guilty. Why?"
"I'm hoping Daniel will find out that Richard had access to sedatives, but I think I need to spend some time close to him as well. We need to know his motive plus his whereabouts."
"It's too dangerous. You already told me how much hate is in him. If he murdered Angelica...no, it's just too dangerous." The wolf in him demanded he protect her, but he was behind bars. "Do you hear me? Stay away from him."
"I don't mind you ordering me around during sex, but this is too important. I'm willing to take the risk."
"But I'm not."
"Don't worry about me."
"Goddamnit, there's no way I could live with myself if something happened to you."
"Well, good, because there's no way I'm going to let anything happen to me."
\*
Tracking down Richard might take some doing if he wanted to stay hidden, so Kitty decided to spend a little time with Haden's mom first. If she and the mayor had had a relationship...well, she didn't know how that would tie into the murders, but the connection seemed important.
But Haden's dad flat out refused to let Kitty into the house to talk to her.
"That boy broke her heart again. I wash my hands of him."
So Kitty parked down the road and watched. Finally Mr. Blackthorne drove off, giving her the opportunity to talk to Ellie.
Her tearstained face made Kitty's determination falter, but this was for the good of all of them. "Come in."
She sat down on a comfy couch with a broken spring poking at her butt. The coffee table had watermarks from countless glasses and mugs, and the carpet was worn almost bare between the front door and the kitchen. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm trying to prove Aidan's innocence."
"But they said this lady was the assistant manager at his pub. He knew her just like Leslie, and they said she looked like her too."
"This is going to seem completely out there, but I have to ask. Did you have a relationship with the mayor?"
"What?"
The trick to Kitty's question was that whether Mrs. Blackthorne chose to tell her the truth or not, she'd prompt the memories. One memory came to the fore in vivid detail. A much younger Ellie on a mat on the floor of a studio. A man on top of her, his pants down. Legwarmers and headband nearby and the song "Gloria" in the background. Ellie's fingers raking along his back, her wedding band prominent on the left hand.
"How dare you ask me something like that! What made you even imagine that?"
"He seems really fond of you."
This time she pictured a test tube, a dropper, and a box that read e.p.t. That memory morphed into a hospital where she looked down at a baby. Haden? No, because then Mr. Langtree came into the room and took the baby from her.
Following a hunch, Kitty said, "Tell me about Richard."
Haden's mom gasped. "How do you know about that?"
"Is Richard your son?"
"Who told you?"
She hated doing this. The woman was crying again, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she had to keep pressing for the truth. "Did you let Mr. Langtree take him, adopt him? Did you have an affair with the mayor?"
"Yes!"
"So Richard and Aidan are half brothers?"
She shook her head. "Not by blood. Aidan was adopted. My husband is sterile."
Kitty touched the woman's arm gently and felt her recoil. "Does Richard know any of this?"
"I don't know."
"What about Mrs. Langtree? Why did she take him in?"
"Ricky said she refused to sleep with him anymore. She refused to get pregnant, and he wanted a son so bad to carry on his name. I think he threatened to get an annulment if she didn't agree to the adoption."
"Why not divorce and remarry each other?"
She sighed. "It wasn't really love. My husband was on the West Coast for a while for work, and I was lonely. Please don't tell my son. He doesn't need to know."
"I think he'd want to know." She'd make no promises, because if this turned out to be important in proving his innocence, then promises be damned.
Next she decided to visit Richard's family home. She hoped the mayor would be at his office in town, because he already distrusted her, but perhaps she could talk to Mrs. Langtree for a few minutes or find Richard himself. According to Daniel, he hadn't turned back up in Richmond.
\*
"Okay, this is interesting." The sheriff handed a medical file through the bars to Haden.
"What am I looking at?" It seemed to be Richard Langtree's file from a psychiatric office.
"Look at the notation on meds. He's taking Clozapine, an antipsychotic, four hundred and fifty milligrams."
"He's psychotic?"
"Maybe, but..." Daniel flipped through a thick reference book. "It says here that the drug is a sedative and the file says that he's been taking it since 2000. Maybe Kitty's right about her idea that you were drugged. He would have had access to just the right tool."
Haden scanned the medical file, but he was thinking about something else. "I'm sorry I skipped out on you. I know that had to put you in a bad position."
"You had your reasons, but it's good to hear you say that. Just don't do it again. I might have to start doubting your innocence or something."
"Dude, you've got me locked up. I'd say you already doubt it."
He shook his head. "It's my job and the prosecutor's say-so, not my personal opinion. It never made a lick of sense, them saying you killed Leslie. Even when you two weren't as close, you still loved each other." He looked down as his cell phone beeped. Haden could hear the voice on the other end plain as day telling him that Kitty was here to see the prisoner. He flipped a page in the file as he waited for the sheriff to escort his girlfriend down the hall.
Richard shows increasing signs of obsession since the discovery of his adoption. He talks about a brother that he follows around. Most disturbing is his belief that this man can change into a wolf. He says he witnessed this, so this must mean he's a werewolf, too.
Haden nearly choked, and his vision tunneled.
He says he witnessed this...
Richard had seen him change!
He talks about a brother...
Haden forced himself to read the rest of the paragraph written in a barely legible script.
Richard is convinced that he has super hearing and smell. His obsession with his brother's girlfriend also grows. I am considering commitment if he doesn't show improvement soon.
"Hey, what's wrong?"
His hands were actually shaking, and the sound of Kitty's voice didn't calm him as it usually did. "These files, they're Richard's."
"Really? Aren't those confidential?"
"Yeah, subpoena. Even so, I don't think I'm supposed to see them."
"Well, your lawyer probably needs to, though." Kitty read the notes. "Wow. This is making sense now."
"Really? Because I'm just more confused."
"Haden, your mom..."
He could smell her doubt and anxiety. "Tell me. I need to know the truth."
"She had an affair with the mayor in the eighties."
"She told you?"
"Mostly with her thoughts, but she did finally admit to some of it when I asked her about Richard."
"Richard, the mayor."
"No, Richard, her son."
"What?" God, could his stomach get tied in any tighter knots? He didn't want to know this. He didn't want to discover how these things tied together with Leslie's death, but Kitty knew already. "Tell me all of it."
"You were adopted because your dad was sterile."
"Yes. They finally told me that."
"Then your mom had an affair with Mr. Langtree and got pregnant."
He hated the queasiness in his stomach. A man shouldn't have a queasy stomach.
"Mr. Langtree took the baby by agreement, and he and his wife officially adopted Richard. And how these notes tie this together with the murder is they're saying he found out that he was your mom's son. It's probably on his birth certificate. What he didn't find out is that you were adopted. He thinks you're his half brother."
"He saw me change, so he thinks he's a werewolf."
Kitty nodded, eyes wide. "He thinks he's a werewolf."
Haden tried to let this news sink in. Richard must have been trailing him now as much as he'd followed his group around in the old days. He'd seen Haden change and thought, since they were brothers, that he must have the same ability. He was probably already ill before these discoveries. Then there was Leslie.
"He was always a geeky kid. I guess he just wanted a girl like I had?"
"It almost sounds like he became obsessed with your life."
"But then why ruin it?"
"So he could have it, maybe. Take it away from you and keep it for himself."
"Daniel said this drug he was taking can sedate a person in the right dose."
"That explains a lot, don't you think?"
"But it proves very little in the eyes of the law. We can't go into court and talk about him witnessing my change."
"I think your lawyer can use this info to create reasonable doubt..." She sighed. "Which does nothing to get you out before the full moon." She tapped her forehead on the bars, and Haden patted her hair as he tried to keep from howling in frustration.
\*
Kitty had to spend some time at the store, and she hated it because she was so far away from Haden and did nothing to help set him free. However, she passed the hours by playing with her ability in a way she hadn't tried before. She was learning to focus it and to turn it on and off. When the store was the most crowded, she could stand at the cash wrap and pinpoint who was thinking what. She could even single out a person and focus in on their thoughts specifically. It took a lot of effort, and she wound up with a headache, but she thought practice would make even that side effect dissipate. Controlling her mind reading might offer her the chance to have a permanent relationship. Haden needed her gift right now, but eventually he might find it aggravating and invasive.
The pub was still open. Emilio had stepped into Angelica's role, proving he'd just needed the opportunity, and Haden's infamous arrest kept the place hopping. Kind of sad, really, but good for Haden's financial situation in the long run.
Finally, it was time to go home, go to sleep, then hopefully, drive to Wolf's Crossing in the morning. The whole thing was definitely wearing her down. It was nice to have someone need her after spending so many years alone, but she wanted to lay her head on a sturdy chest and let someone take care of her for a while. She yawned as she turned the key in the deadbolt to lock the store. It was midnight, so all of her employees were gone, and the shopping center was quiet except for the pub. She listened to the strains of a harmonica as she crossed the parking lot to her car, which was in the last row near Three Chopt Road and a row of bushes. The night air was warm but less humid than it had been during the day. The pleasant spring breezes were gone, and Kitty doubted they'd return this year.
As she drew close to her car, the last one in that section of the lot, she sensed another mind. Someone was watching her. She saw her body centered in the glow from the pole light and stopped dead. She was only a few feet from her car, while she was yards away from the populated pub. The beat of her heart was loud in her ears. Fight or run? She saw herself grow larger as the watcher came closer. Where was he? She peered into the shadows, but the light that she stood in washed out the shadows. Fight or run?
Run!
She turned toward the pub, took three steps, leaving the circle of light; then the arms wrapped around her. She sucked in air, preparing to scream. Only the tiniest sound escaped as a cloth covered her mouth, the chemical smell on it overpowering. The red haze filled her mind for a moment more, then blackness.
\*
The moon called, and Haden paced his cage like a lion at the zoo. Where was Kitty? She'd promised to visit him today. Pray to God that she found something to get him out of here. Their plan B, telling Daniel about the wolf, could completely backfire, and he didn't want to risk it. What choice would he have, though?
"Come on, Kitty. I need you!"
It wasn't just need, though. When he thought about Kitty, he saw happiness, safety, and optimism. He loved that she seemed comfortable with the wolf, and he loved that she met him strength for strength during sex. He loved her intelligence and business sense. He could spend hours watching her sleep. He loved waking up to the scent of vanilla on his pillow. He didn't think it was fair to bring up the future with her until after the trial, but he wanted to. For the first time, he could imagine a future shared with someone. That was a nice dream indeed.
The buzzer sounded, announcing Daniel. He stalked down the hall, the radio at his belt squawking the whole time. He smelled like sweat and worry and anger.
"What's the matter?" Haden asked, gripping the bars and trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut.
"Kitty's missing."
"What? You've checked...?"
"Everywhere. The Henrico County cops checked her home after she was reported missing. Her car's still in the lot at the shopping center. Her employee Gina said the store was locked when she arrived, and repeated calls to her boss went unanswered. They searched the store and checked at the pub. A witness leaving the pub saw a man carrying a woman to a dark vehicle, thought the woman was drunk."
"What about the vehicle? What did the man look like?"
"A Lexus. The description was really vague, but in my book, it matches Richard."
Haden's heart stopped, literally stopped, then he started coughing, his body's way of reviving him. "You have to get me out of here!"
Daniel pulled out the keys. "Your lawyer and I talked to the judge, presenting the information we had about Richard's psychotic history, Angelica's relationship with him, and your alibi for the time of her death now that the ME gave his report."
"Yeah, so...what did he say?"
Daniel's eyes were shadowed. "He said I can let you out pending trial."
"Then let me out, dammit. We've got to find Kitty before he does to her what he did to Angelica and Leslie!" His grip on the bars had turned his knuckles white, and the beast fought to surface. How could Daniel keep him in here if he believed him innocent? When he knew Kitty was in trouble?
"Aidan...Aidan!"
"What?!"
"I don't want to have to lock you up again, so that means that you have to work with me to find her."
"Yeah, whatever." He'd say anything to get out of this cage. Daniel still didn't fit the key in the lock. Haden looked up, saw his friend watching him. "What are you waiting for?"
"I'm waiting for your sanity to return. This man is the best suspect for Leslie's murder, and if you kill him, the truth might die with him, and I'll wind up locking you up on his murder charge. Do you hear me?"
"Damn you!" He struggled to slow his breath, slow his heart, push the beast back down. One more night until the full moon. He was barely under control as it was, and now Kitty was in danger. He fought with his anger. Daniel wanted him calm, needed to trust him. Working with the sheriff made the most sense. He'd have all the latest information. He sucked in another breath. "Okay...okay. I'll follow your lead. We have to find her. I'll do whatever it takes to do that."
Finally, his old friend turned the key in the lock.
The tears wetting her cheeks kept her from all-out panic. She couldn't say why. She focused on the wetness, the taste of the salt as a tear rolled across her lips, the coolness of the air drying the tears from her face. She owned the tears. They were tangible parts of herself. The ropes encasing her body like a mummy's bandages were not real, couldn't be real. The pictures in her brain also couldn't be real. Words like shibari, Hishi-kikkou, and kinbaku meant nothing to her, so she tried to block out the illustrations that went with them, photos on the Internet and in magazines and books.
She understood from other minds she'd encountered that bondage could be beautifully erotic when partners trusted each other. She'd even brought home some videos from the backroom of her store on Japanese bondage, but the consensual element was missing here. Even the erotic element meant nothing to Richard as he concentrated solely on creating his work of art. He hadn't touched her breasts and pubis more than to position the rope, completely engrossed in his act of creation.
Kitty could almost believe that he meant to go no farther than decorating her with ropes. Almost. If not for the flashes of bright red cuts added in an array between the ropes. He planned to cut her as part of his sick art project, and if he followed his pattern, he'd rip her throat out before he was through. She held her breath each time he used a gently curved, engraved blade to slice through the cotton line like it was softer than butter. That blade would slice her flesh just as easily.
He'd gagged her with a red rubber ball attached to straps, so sometimes her spit caught in the back of her throat, making her gag, and she thought for sure she might choke on her own bile. Thank God he hadn't blindfolded her, though. The helpless panic would multiply if she couldn't observe her surroundings.
Not that the surroundings were much to look at. She seemed to be in a shack in the woods, judging by the sounds of birds chirping and leaves blowing. Boards creaked, and the ceiling above her sagged abnormally and was covered with dark brown and gray stains. Jagged glass filled the panes of the window she could see. She couldn't see the door. A musty mattress held her off of the floor, and she could swear she heard creatures scuttling beneath her. She tried not to dwell on that.
There was absolutely no hope of freeing herself. He'd done most of the binding while she was unconscious. Ropes crisscrossed her body in diamond shapes and pulled her ankles up to her wrists behind her back, bending her in an awkward and now painful position.
A memory called to her, and the ceiling above her washed white. A long fluorescent light appeared, sounding like a fly buzz as the bulb flickered. She was higher off the ground on a smaller mattress, and her shoulder bumped against a padded wall. Her arms were crisscrossed over her chest, encased in fabric. She could hear canned laughter from the television in the break room across the hall. She couldn't blame them for the straightjacket, not really. Think of the liability if she'd killed herself. She was trapped, trapped with the thoughts of the insane, trapped in this room, in this binding, and she'd done this to herself. Committed herself.
She would've laughed if the panic didn't eat at her stomach so.
Kitty shook her head. A memory. Only a memory. Above her, she saw the water-stained ceiling again. She returned to the present.
But how to keep the panic from overtaking her? Haden was in jail. Did anyone know she was missing? Probably Gina would've reported it or checked with Marsha, at least. Yeah, they probably knew she was missing. They'd probably found her car. But what more than that? Who would do the looking, and how would they know where to look?
Panic clawed at her stomach as Richard smoothed a rope into her slit, touching her clitoris briefly. Like a thong, the rope slid up her butt crack to be secured to the rope wrapped around her waist. Kitty stared up at the ceiling and prayed to at least not die with Richard's thoughts crowding her head.
\*
"Here's a map of the Langtree property. The Richmond police have scoured the U of R campus and talked to Richard's friends. There's been no sign of his Lexus. I really don't think he's there. I think he's more likely to bring her here, someplace he's familiar with and has the run of without worry of witnesses."
Haden nodded. Daniel's logic was sound, and the only thing they had to go on at the moment. He ran his finger over the map, which was warm because Daniel had spread it out on the hood of his cruiser. Thousands of acres, a lot of it wooded, dotted with caves and ravines. They'd just left the main residence, speaking to Mrs. Langtree and searching the house. She'd smelled anxious and sick, but Haden didn't think she knew where her son was.
He saw me change. Haden scanned the map for the spot. Was it marked? No. He could find it by memory, but it was about here. He tapped his finger. "There's a cabin here. I think it was used for hunting."
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah, I used to go there when I wanted time alone. It's not on a part of the property that the Langtrees really used, so I never thought they'd mind."
"The road goes here. Is there a drive or something?"
"I think there's only a foot path, and it was half overgrown when I used it."
Daniel folded the map, leaving the part they needed on top. "Get in."
They drove along the bumpy, rutted road until it faded out in a gravel circle. It was getting dark, so Daniel slapped a Maglite into Haden's palm. They shone the beams at the overgrowth surrounding the clearing, looking for something like a path. The moon lingered on the horizon. Haden faced it and breathed in the air as his wolf called to him, tempting him to change. He forced his focus back to the edges of the clearing, walking slowly, aware of every scent. He heard a rabbit and a deer as they crashed through growth, racing to get away from the hunter.
"There." He pointed when he smelled a familiar scent. Just a trace of it and no sign of the path at all, but he didn't wait for Daniel. He crushed branches and swatted leaves out of his way, and the scent grew stronger. What was it? It tickled his memory. Angelica. It was what he'd smelled the day Angelica had interviewed with him. A mix of cologne and sweat that was familiar, only he hadn't placed it at the time. Now he knew it had to be Richard's scent. He walked faster, broke into a jog, returning Daniel's call, but not waiting for him to catch up. If he changed into the wolf, he could go faster, could rip the throat out of the creature who'd taken his lover. The temptation rode him, and the closer the beast came to the surface, the easier it was for him to follow the trail. He caught the faintest trace of Kitty on a leaf. Richard must have carried her, because her scent was not on the ground.
"Aidan, wait. You don't know what you're going to run into." A few minutes later. "I've got the gun, dammit. You're going to get yourself killed."
The voice seemed far away as the beast dropped to all fours, placing his nose closer to the ground. He was still man-shaped, but he loped with confidence over the uneven ground, relatively silent compared to the man breaking through the brush behind him. His prey was close now and would die for taking his mate.
\*
Kitty turned her head. She thought she'd heard a sound, but her normal five senses lacked the strength of her mind-reading ability, and it was that she trusted now. The black-and-white movie showed leaves and ground underfoot, speed; the smells all around coated his nose, but only one tugged him forward: her scent. He hadn't changed, or she wouldn't have picked up his thoughts at all, but he wasn't completely unchanged, or the images would've been in color. He saw the building. Was that the building she was in? Oh, yes, he could smell her. She felt the power pulling at him. He wanted to change completely.
Haden, no. Don't lose your consciousness!
She willed him to hear her. Wishful thinking. Prayer. If he changed into the wolf, he would kill Richard, then Haden would be a murderer in truth. No one would believe he hadn't killed Leslie.
She closed her eyes, repeating his name, the name only she called him. The beast paused, looked up, and sniffed the air. He stood just beyond the cabin below the back porch. Kitty knew he was low to the ground, but couldn't see what he looked like.
Haden! Don't change!
Sharp pain cut through any connection she had with him, and her eyes flew open as she tried to understand what hurt. Her stomach hurt because it was bleeding. A thin line of red appeared under the knife blade, welled, grew larger and more distinct.
I'm bleeding! Shit!
And in Haden's mind, he smelled the blood and recognized it.
He changed.
\*
Daniel heard splintering wood and shouted into his radio to let the others know his location. The dilapidated building seemed to rise up out of the ground, but he knew that was an illusion. Adrenaline pumped through him. His legs burned like hell. How had Aidan run so fast? He'd completely lost sight of him. Back porch. Rotted wood. A step broke under his foot. He pulled free and stepped more cautiously onto the porch, noting the caved door. Aidan hadn't even stopped, had he? The fool! He'd be no match for Richard if the man had a gun, not to mention the bowie knife the ME thought he'd used on Angelica's throat.
The scene inside confounded him, though. He skidded to a halt and tried to understand. A huge gray wolf hunched and growled at the sniveling man pressed against the wall. To their left, someone was tied elaborately with red rope. Naked. He couldn't understand. A wolf? The rope looked like decoration and made him think of Christmas ribbons and packages. He looked more carefully and saw the blood, a stream running over pale skin and soaking into the rope and the mattress below. Mattress. Hair. He pulled the images together. Victim.
He stumbled across the room and saw Kitty's eyes. "I've got you." He reached for a knot, but touched her naked flesh and yanked his hand back. Deep breath. Untie her. Stop the wolf. The knots were too tight. He went for the ball in her mouth instead, pulling it free and hating the suctioning sound it made.
"Haden!" Kitty screamed the moment her mouth emptied. "Haden! Change back! You don't need to kill him!"
The growls and snarls increased, and the beast's nails tapped on the wood floor.
"Daniel, put your gun on Richard, cuff him. Show Haden you have him. He doesn't need to kill him."
"I don't see..." All he saw was the wolf, who had to be six feet long from its nose to the tip of its tail. Its paws would cover his face. The teeth were sharper by far than the knife Richard wielded, and the strength and speed in the haunches would allow the wolf to down a man long before the knife did its work.
"Haden! Change back! Please! I love you!" she screamed, tears smeared on her face. Daniel helped her sit up, then rose slowly to his feet. He couldn't make sense of her words. Maybe he didn't want to understand what she meant. But that didn't mean he couldn't put Richard in cuffs.
What if the wolf attacked him then?
The nasty taste of fear coated his tongue, but he walked forward, pulling his gun from his holster, clicking off the safety. His arms rose. The two-armed grip was proper, followed his training, would steady his aim. He pointed the nose of the gun at the wolf.
"Daniel, no! That's Haden ‑‑ don't shoot him!"
"It can't be," he whispered. His low voice caught the wolf's attention. It turned its head and looked him dead in the eyes. "Oh, God."
The knife flashed, and Kitty screamed as Daniel adjusted his aim, pointing the gun at Richard, but he was in motion. The bullet hit Richard's shoulder, causing blood to spatter against the wall and over the fur. The wolf was hurt. Stabbed? It was crawling toward Kitty, dragging a leg, whimpering, but Daniel had to ignore that as he kicked the dropped knife out of the way and yanked Richard's uninjured arm behind his back.
"Brother, brother. I told you. Magnificent. I smell, I smell...oh, and my art, my finest creation."
Mechanically, Daniel began to recite the Miranda warning. He couldn't look behind him. He didn't want to see Kitty and the wolf.
"Change. Please change. Won't that make you better? Please, Haden. I can't tell how bad you're hurt this way. Change." She alternated between a low, calm voice, to a sharp, attention-grabbing voice. "Daniel, get the damn knife and undo me. Haden's hurt!" She knew the sheriff had seen something, understood something, that he wasn't ready to handle. That couldn't be helped. "Cut me free, goddamn it! I need to help him!"
Daniel used his foot to kick Richard's knee forward until he was kneeling. He cuffed both hands despite his injury. Finally he turned his head and looked at Kitty, refusing to look at the wolf. His thoughts skittered away from the truth.
"Daniel, get the knife. Cut me loose. That's your job. You don't leave the victim tied up."
He nodded. "Right."
"Come on." Her low voice morphed into a hysterical one. "Get over here!"
Haden needed to change before any more cops got here too. He'd spent so long protecting his secret. Daniel would keep it, once he accepted it. The others would want the government to take him and turn him into a lab experiment.
Daniel brought the knife and started slicing through Kitty's bonds, his eyes overly bright. He was careful not to cut her skin, though. As soon as she was mostly free, Kitty scanned the room for her clothes. "Damn, I don't know where he put my clothes."
"Wait, I saw some...outside. I threw them on the porch." He went out and returned in moments with the clothes. Haden's. He stared at the clothes, then at the bleeding wolf. Kitty felt sorry for him, but she also felt naked.
"Is there a shirt there?"
"Oh, yeah, here."
Kitty slid it on and breathed in Haden's scent. She took the undershirt and pressed it against the wolf's wound, then she went back to whispering in his ear. "You've got to change back. You can do it. I need you here. We've got the bad guy. I really appreciate you scaring the shit out of him. Now come back to me before the sheriff's backup gets here. You know explanations are going to be impossible once that happens."
And the pictures rolled back into her head in black-and-white. She felt the power surge through her arm as if she touched an electric fence. The change happened so quickly that the naked eye couldn't see it. One minute he was a wolf, the next a naked man. Kitty gasped in relief, and Haden moaned in pain. His forearm bled slowly, almost clotted. She moved the T-shirt and pressed hard. Daniel stood over the two of them, mouth hanging open and moving like he wanted to say something, but no sound came out. Finally he found his voice.
"Is he okay?"
"I think so. Is help coming? I'm sure he'll need to go to the hospital."
"I called for backup before I entered the premises, but there's no road out here, and the path is hard to see."
"Damn knife," Haden said with a little groan.
"Better to avoid those next time." Kitty smiled, glad he'd found his voice again.
"Next time? If there's a next time, we're doing something seriously wrong." He looked over at his friend, who was basically babysitting Richard to avoid looking at the couple on the floor. "What's he thinking?"
"Oh, I wasn't paying attention." She closed her eyes and sought out the sheriff's mind. "He's just replaying the scene between you and Richard. Yup, he's good and freaked. It's nice to not be the strangest person in the room for a change."
"Kitty, you're not strange."
"And I'm loads of fun at parties."
He laid the hand attached to his good arm on her knee. "I was so worried we wouldn't find you, and I wasn't sure if Daniel was going to let me out. If I'd had to stay in that cell not knowing where you were..."
"Well, I will have you know that I did not go hunting for him, not that time at least. He found me after I closed up the store." And suddenly she couldn't stop shivering. Her whole body shook, and she kept replaying the part where Richard started cutting her in between the ropes, the pain and helplessness.
Haden pulled her close and held her tight. "It's okay. You're okay now. Cry it out."
He didn't know if he was okay. His anger ate at him, tempered only by the pain from the knife wound and empathy for the sheriff. He couldn't imagine trying to write this up in a report. He also couldn't imagine the shock of discovering someone you'd known for decades was a werewolf, but it had to be better than thinking he was a murderer, didn't it?
The cavalry rode in loudly in the county's only Hummer. He listened to Daniel explain everything as the EMT stitched up his arm. Most of the details were true. He just skipped the part where Haden had turned into a wolf and just said he rushed in to confront Richard before he hurt Kitty anymore.
\*
A few days later, Kitty sat at the bar and told Emilio, Gina, and Marsha a similar story. They were all amazed at Haden's heroics. Of course, he wondered how brave he'd have been if the beast hadn't taken over. No, truth be told, he probably would've rushed in just the same. The outcome might've been worse, though.
And finally he could hold his head high in Wolf's Crossing again, because the prosecutor had dropped all of the murder charges and allowed him to plead out on some of the lesser charges. He gladly paid those fines. Anything to avoid being locked up. He hadn't seen his parents since then, though, or Leslie's mom. He was pretty sure that would've been painful, anyway. His dad rarely offered forgiveness.
Haden's arm had healed completely during the following three full moon nights, but he still wore the bandages, since that's what was expected. He listened as Marsha leaned close to Kit and whispered, "So what's up with you two?"
"It's good."
"Are you moving in?"
"Marsha! We hardly know each other. And what happened to not being married by choice?"
Marsha lifted her left hand. Haden didn't have to see the sparkle, since Kitty's squeal told the story. "If I'm taking the plunge, then you certainly can."
"We'll see."
She glanced his way, so he quickly immersed himself in Emilio's story about the way-too-obvious food critic. Thank God, Zeke had wowed him. His arrest and whatnot had only enhanced the story.
Half an hour later, he stood up. "Kitty, you ready to go home to your lonely dog?"
"Yeah, I suppose." She winked at Emilio and gave Marsha a hug. "Tell Brad congratulations for me."
\*
The car hummed, and Kitty counted the streetlights they passed. She'd been trying really hard to keep from reading Haden's thoughts. She didn't want him to feel like his girlfriend was a permanent eavesdropper, but it was hard, especially when they made love. They were so connected.
"Kitty, is something wrong?"
"No."
"You smell nervous."
She laughed. "Here I was trying to stay out of your thoughts, and you're reading me by my body odor."
"Why were you trying to stay out of my thoughts?"
"I just can't imagine that you'd want someone around you all the time who always knows what you're thinking."
"You don't always know. Besides, then I can be my usual brooding self, and you'll still think I'm communicating with you." He grinned, glancing over at her, then back out the windshield.
"Really?"
"Kitty, if you can deal with me turning into Canis lupus every month, then I can deal with you in my head. I do think Fergie and I are going to have to deal with the dominance issue, though. I can't have the mutt growling at me every time I spend the night."
"He's not a mutt! He's purebred."
"You know what I mean."
"I think we should look for your real family next."
"Why'd you say that?"
"Well, you were thinking about your dad, and I just think you'd like to know the whole story about where you came from."
"Maybe, but I need to recover from this little adventure first."
At Kitty's house, Haden let the dog out and had a little chat with him that involved rolling him onto his back, paws up. Then he found Kitty half asleep on her bed, wearing a long T-shirt with shoes all over it. The window unit hummed, since Richmond's humidity was at seventy percent. Haden joined her on the bed, stripping off his shirt and pants, leaving on a pair of navy boxers.
"So Marsha's getting married?"
She smiled. "Yeah. I hope she'll want me to be maid of honor. She probably doesn't even know she needs one yet."
"What do you think about marriage?"
"I always wanted to get married. Two people sharing their lives, helping with day-to-day life, growing old together. But you know, once I started reading minds, I figured it just wouldn't work out."
"I know it's too soon, but you know, it might work out with us."
She lifted herself up to her elbow. "Really? You'd want to marry me?"
"I might like that. Maybe we could ring shop."
She smacked his chest, then curled her fingers into the hair covering his pecs. "Kiss me."
Shara Lanel
Shara began her writing life at the age of five, creating those little About Me books with the balloon on the back. She finally managed publication in high school, writing and editing the Entertainment Page in the school paper, and she toyed with the idea of being a rich and famous author.
Of course, there was a large period of time during which she planned to be an astronaut or rock star, whichever came first. But since neither of those careers panned out, she went to college in New York City to study film.
A fellow writer, who shall remain nameless, implored Shara to "come to the Dark Side,"-- referring to writing erotic romance ‑‑ so she did, and now she may never go back. She's having too much fun writing the sexy, sinful stuff she loves to read. In fact, she's pretty good at it, and the research is fantastic.
Oh, get your mind out of the gutter! Research, as in background for creating her authentic characters and settings. For example, Shara recently participated in her local Citizens' Police Academy, and had a blast shooting things, meeting sexy SWAT guys, and riding around in cop cars during high speed chases. All in the name of research for her books, of course.
Shara lives in Richmond, Virginia with her husband, son, and ancient cocker spaniel. When she's not writing, she's killing chile plants, setting fires in her oven, and avoiding housework at all costs.
Visit her on the web at www.sharalanel.com, and she loves to hear from her readers at sharalanel@comcast.net.

