Into the Woods

INTO THE WOODS

… The man’s warm gaze seared into Shaun, like an electric current passing through his body. The probing stare was so intense, so filled with… Jesus, was it need?...that Shaun’s blood suddenly ran hot and he found himself thinking about sex again. And how it would feel to strip off the man’s clothes right here and now, and lick every inch of what he was certain was a hot and delectable body, until the man writhed in pleasure and desperation. Then Shaun would find what he knew would be the perfect fit for himself between the man’s legs, and thrust so deep inside him, the stranger would cry out and beg for mercy, beg for more, all in the same breath. Shaun knew he’d comply, too. Knew he’d give the man everything he wanted, would plough into him until they were both hoarse from their cries, until their bodies shook from need and glorious exhaustion. Until they were both spent and sweaty and covered in each other’s scents… Holy crap. Shaun swallowed hard and blinked as reality settled back in around him, yanking him out of the vivid daydream. What had just gotten into him? Just a minute ago he was ready to attack the guy for sneaking up on him, and now he couldn’t think straight because he wanted to fuck him. His skin tingled, his heart thudded, his balls ached. The weird thing was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one suddenly and powerfully turned on. Shaun got the distinct impression the stranger was fighting the urge to haul Shaun against him and do something similar to what Shaun had been thinking. He could practically feel the sexual tension sizzling in the air. Could almost smell the man’s desire… smell his own desire as well, and the heady mix of both together. “Who are you?” Shaun breathed…

ALSO BY M. L. RHODES Always Bring The Heat Couplings The Draegan Lords The Elf And Shoemaker Falling Fires Of Ballian Hearts & Bones Lords Of Kellesborne Never Let Go Out of My Mind Passion Passion & Satisfaction The Professor’s Secret Passion Satisfaction Shattered Souls Deep True Of Heart Under My Skin, Vols. I & II Vertigo Wanting

INTO THE WOODS BY M. L. RHODES

AMBER Q UILL PRESS, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com

INTO THE WOODS AN AMBER QUILL PRESS BOOK This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. Amber Quill Press, LLC http://www.AmberQuill.com All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review. Copyright © 2011 by M. L. Rhodes ISBN 978-1-61124-000-9 Cover Art © 2011 Trace Edward Zaber

PUBLISHED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

This one’s for my dad, Carl, whose stories of growing up in the Appalachian mountains of east Tennessee gave my young mind lots and lots of fodder for tales of things that go bump inthe night or prowl in the woods. The “unexplained” was part of life in the mountains and no one doubted that spirits lurked in the graveyards or that some people had the sight and knew impossible things with uncanny accuracy. I still miss my dad so much, miss his stories, miss his wisdom and advice, miss his company. But I’m grateful for his encouragement and his insistence that I follow my own path in life. And I’m grateful for the rich mountain heritage of which he was so very proud… a pride he passed on to his daughters. This is also for my Uncle Jerry, one of my dad’s brothers, recently passed. He was the salt of the earth and truly one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. He lived most of his life in the east Tennessee mountains, and, if possible, loved them even more than my dad did. Some of my fondest memories are of sitting on Uncle Jerry’s porch on sticky summer nights, with fireflies blinking all around, while he played the banjo and my Uncle Robert accompanied him on the fiddle. I can’t think of the Appalachians without thinking of him. Rest in peace, Daddy and Uncle Jerry

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FORWARD So it was written long ago, in the time of the ancient ones… A powerful ruler named Madoc of Ahnsa sent his young son, Gell, to be fostered by the king and queen of a neighboring land. The boy’s mother had perished giving birth to him, and though he was the light of his father’s eye, his father wanted not only for the boy to have a maternal influence, but he also hoped to forge a strong relationship with the other kingdom, Daire. He felt that if the prince lived amongst the Daireans it would teach him to be respectful of other cultures and appreciative of diversity. Perhaps Gell might one day even take a mate from Daire, which would further bond the two lands. However, Madoc’s counselors, who had been loyal to Madoc’s 1

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prejudiced, despotic, war-mongering father before his death, resented Madoc and his beliefs that all people were created equal and that peace should prevail across the lands. During Madoc’s father’s reign, the counselors had had a free hand to bully and steal and make their own laws—something which Madoc would never allow as long as he sat upon the throne. So the counselors set in motion a plot to wrest control of the kingdom from Madoc and give themselves power. Over the years that followed Prince Gell’s departure, Madoc slowly grew unstable—a wasting illness his physicians said. But his true ailment came from the narcotic herbs his counselors slipped into his food and drink to make him weak and malleable to their will. Unbeknownst to Madoc, the counselors sent one of their own members to infiltrate the Dairean ruler’s castle. The spy wormed his way into the good graces of the Dairean nobility and worked his way up until he became the Dairean king’s most trusted advisor. When Prince Gell grew to be strong and handsome and at the cusp of manhood, he and the Dairean king’s son, Brion, who’d become best friends over the years, found their friendship turning to something much deeper and more intimate. The Dairean king and queen were thrilled, and hoped for a union between the two young men who’d clearly fallen in love. The spy and the other counselors, however, found the young men’s relationship abhorrent. They knew a union between the two princes would bind the kingdoms together in a virtually unbreakable alliance. An alliance that would interfere with the counselors’ plans for their own land. They could never allow the union to happen. In order to stop it, they knew the time had come 2

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for drastic action. The spy advised the Dairean king of a sudden, escalating threat in the hinterlands, an invasion of the wild men from the north. At his urging, because, after all, the king trusted him fully, the king sent the army to deal with the threat. The Daireans were mostly a peaceful people and therefore maintained only a small army. With the bulk of the soldiers gone, the castle was left with only a token guard. That night, the spy snuck into Prince Gell’s room after having drugged both his and Prince Brion’s wine at dinner. As Brion lay in a deep slumber next to his lover, the spy slit Gell’s throat, killing him in his sleep. When Brion awoke and found his lover dead, everyone throughout the palace heard his devastation. The Daireans reeled in shock over the event because everyone had loved Gell and no one could fathom who would want to do him harm. Grieving at the loss of one who’d become so dear to them, the Dairean king and queen sent word to Madoc of the tragedy. The counselors intercepted the royal messenger and went to Madoc themselves with the news. Madoc, by this time, was barely a shell of a man. His counselors told him of his son’s death, but they also said that the young man had died at the hands of the Dairean king, who had found out about Gell’s romance with Prince Brion and become incensed, claiming that no son of his would ever be part of such an unholy union. Madoc, sick with grief and so under the sway of his counselors’ drugs and manipulation, believed everything he was told. He thought he’d lost his beloved only son because he’d foolishly trusted him to the care of bigots and murderers. It took very little pushing from his counselors to wage full-out war against the 3

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Daireans. The Daireans, unaware of the lies Madoc had been told, had no idea Madoc’s troops planned an invasion. When Madoc’s soldiers attacked, they caught the Daireans unaware and, with only minimal defenses, the Daireans were quickly overrun. When the castle had been taken and the survivors rounded up, Madoc condemned the Dairean king and Prince Brion to death. They were swiftly beheaded and their bodies burned in a public spectacle. The Dairean queen, however, was a powerful witch-sorceress, a fact of which the invaders were well aware. Intending to force her submission and utilize her magick for their own nefarious purposes at a later date, they captured and imprisoned her in iron chains that suppressed her power. Not content to end it there, Madoc also had his most powerful mystic lay a dark curse over the people of Daire. The curse would, forevermore, turn the firstborn of every Dairean family and the firstborn of every Dairean ancestor throughout time into demons who could only survive by feeding off human blood. If the Dairean king took Madoc’s firstborn in cold blood, then Madoc would make all Dairean firstborns suffer in blood. What Madoc and his counselors hadn’t counted on was the witch queen’s escape. Her loyal servants found a way to free her. Driven by grief and fury at what had happened to her husband and son, and to Gell, whom she’d grown to love like a son during the years he lived with them, she vowed justice would be served upon all who had plotted against her family. She had the spy beheaded and sent his head back to Madoc and his counselors, along with a curse of her own that was laid upon them the moment they opened the gate to the spy’s returning horse. Within a fortnight, Madoc’s land lay in ruin. Madoc and all the 4

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counselors who had been behind the betrayal, along with their families, died painful, mysterious deaths. The rest of the people of Ahnsa were given the choice of leaving their lands forever with nothing but the clothes on their backs, or staying, but if they did so, they would serve the queen and Daire for the rest of their days. Many, fearing the queen’s wrath, departed. Those who remained swore fealty to the witch-queen. The queen could not fully remove the curse Madoc’s mystic had cast—alas, it was binding—but by using her own blood for the spell, she was able to alter it. Instead of firstborn Dairean children being born with the blood curse, the queen delayed the affliction so that it didn’t present until the firstborns reached full maturity, giving them a portion of their lives to live in peace. And because she couldn’t bear to have her people hunt innocents due to a blood lust that was no fault of their own, she ordered the remaining Ahnsians, who’d sworn to do her bidding, to become the Dairean firstborns’ bound protectors. She charged them with keeping the firstborns and their heirs safe and supplying them with the sustenance they required. Not unsympathetic to their plight, however, since most had been unaware of the betrayal perpetrated by the counselors they’d trusted, the queen gave the Ahnsians a gift to help them with their task—the gift of dual form so that they would always have the wherewithal to protect and provide for the firstborn Daireans in ways mere humans could not. Thus the shapeshifting Feldaemons were born. The queen then focused her energy on the Malak’fuil—the cursed firstborn—and placed upon them the task of equally protecting their companions, never treating them unkindly, and never taking advantage of the goodwill they offered. It was to be a 5

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relationship of mutual cooperation and respect. As long as the Feldaemons and Malak’fuil fulfilled their promises to one another, their lives would be peaceful. The queen, though powerful and angry at the chain of events that had led to such tragedy, hoped the bond would reestablish the trust between the two torn lands and peoples. She was not, however, an idealist or a fool. She knew mankind was weak, knew that over time temptations and greed might tear the bond asunder. If that should ever happen, she promised retribution would fall hard on those who dared defy her. Chaos would reign, the old strengths and magick would be lost, and none would find peace forevermore. What the queen did not realize, in her grievous anger, was that a force far stronger than her magick or that of Madoc’s mystic was at work. Even after death, the true, unblemished love that Prince Gell and Prince Brion had shared lingered on, not bound by time or space or cursed fates. And in the darkest hour, should the need arise, the Universe would seek to find balance in its own way… Out of the chaos two warriors would be born—one to the shapeshifting clan of the Feldaemons, and one to the blood drinkers of the Malak’fuil. They would be tested and expected to make choices. If the warriors proved themselves above corruption and able to put each other’s needs before their own, the two would be endowed with a power beyond that of either of their races. A power that, if wielded wisely, could help them fight the battles to come and eventually restore peace. If they failed, however, if the land had fallen into such despair that even love and compassion could not overcome the worst adversity… then all hope would be lost forever. 6

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PROLOGUE Ten days ago... Faster. Go faster! The mantra played out in Doyle’s mind, over and over. Don’t slow down. Keep moving. Go faster… His lungs burned and his heart battered his sternum with ever greater and aching intensity. His breathing, little more than wheezes and gasps, rattled in his ears. He forced his legs to pump harder, and his feet to find sure footing on the moist forest floor. But the exposed tree roots and clinging undergrowth hampered him, causing him to stumble. His knapsack snagged on branches, and several times he had to yank himself free. 7

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Every breath was an agony. He couldn’t make it. Yes, you can. You will! Tree limbs snapped behind him, each one a gunshot to his heart, causing his breath to hitch and his body to tense. They were getting closer. Doyle didn’t look over his shoulder to see how close. Couldn’t. It would slow him down or cause him to trip and fall, and then they’d be on top of him. But he knew they were there. Three. Or maybe four of them. Hunting. Faster! He had to get there before they caught him. And they would catch him. He had no illusions about escaping them. He was out of shape and weak—no match for what followed him, especially not so many. But before they caught him… His hands tightened around the package and letter he carried. He had to make sure these would be delivered. His life depends on it, and that’s all that matters now. He realized, with sudden clarity, that that’s all that ever should have mattered. Guilt and heartache, always his companions, surged like hot bile in his stomach and up into his throat. Fool! Stupid, selfish fool. So damned many mistakes. But there wasn’t anything he could do about them now. Except get to where he was going. Just a little farther. The trees began to thin. And then he saw it through the chilly mist of the early morning. His heart skipped several beats. He was going to make it! No one would be there this early, but if he could leave the package and letter and the cash to pay for it inside the screen door, he knew it would be taken care of. 8

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He broke through the trees at the road, only a few yards from the small white trailer. But as his foot hit the first rickety wooden step up to the door, the air changed, rippled with heat and smelled of feral earthiness, as bodies burst out of the woods and filled the space behind him. He never made the second step A heavy weight slammed into his back. He went down, hitting hard, and sliding off the step belly first to lay sprawled in the damp earth. The package, letter, and money flew from his hand. “NO!” he cried, reaching for them, even though he knew it was useless. The beast atop him pressed his body into the ground. Large claws gouged into his back through his coat, ripping through fabric and skin. Crying out, he tried to fight, struggling beneath the creature, but it had been too long since he’d last fed. His muscles were already exhausted from the run and his reflexes were far too slow. This was it. It would finally end here. Not with a bang but a whimper. The line of T.S. Eliot poetry slid through his mind out of nowhere, a reminder of a different time and place. A time when he’d had a real life to live, and a family with whom to live it. But that was all gone now. He was seconds from death and all he could think of was how badly he’d screwed it all up. Hot breath scorched his nape. A growl. And then powerful jaws clamped down on his neck, and teeth sank through his flesh. He screamed as pain tore through him. A commanding voice crossed through the red fog of his agony. “Alton! That’s enough!” he heard.“Get off!” A blow shook the body ripping into Doyle’s, and a high pitched 9

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animal whine sliced the air. The weight abruptly shifted off him. Doyle drew great, gasping breaths into his lungs once the weight was gone, not realizing until then how his air had been constricted. His neck and shoulder throbbed, and dizziness assailed him. “You know better’n to try to kill ’em when we catch ’em, boy,” the voice said. “They’re not our property to mess with.” A foot nudged under Doyle’s ribs and rolled him over. Through the waves of pain, he found himself staring up at a large, nude man with long dark hair and a beard. Though well into middle-age, the years hadn’t brought paunch to his physique—he was solid and muscular, with arms and thighs as big around as trees. The man studied Doyle, his dark eyes sharp, assessing. Next to him, a gangly younger man, maybe nineteen or twenty years old—the one who’d attacked him—shifted into human form. Two others remained as animals, pacing back and forth on huge paws. “You two, bring the truck around,” the big man ordered. They loped off. “There don’t seem no point in saving this ’un,” the younger man, presumably the one called Alton, sneered. “Look at ’im. I ain’t never seen a more pathetic excuse for a—” “It took four of you to bring me down,” Doyle rasped. The words hurt like sin to get out, and he knew it was no more than bravado, but he refused to lie here like a weakling. He hissed as his fangs descended. “Who does that make pathetic?” The young one’s eyes went wide, crazy, and he lunged at him. “You fuckin’ leech! You shut up!” he screamed. He kicked him in the ribs, landing several blows before the bigger one pulled him back. 10

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Curling into a ball against the new pain, Doyle almost… almost regretted taunting the kid. But not really. He was going to die anyway, and he’d lain like a doormat for too many years as it was. If he could rile the kid on his way out, then so be it. “Let me go!” the kid shrieked to the older man. “I’m going to kick his ass, then I’m going to rip out his thr—” The big man cuffed him upside the head, cutting him off. “Back off, Alton, or I’m going to lock you up when we get back to the compound. You hear me?” “I’m not lettin’ him get away with that shit, Gamble! Look at him, all skinny and scarred. He ain’t got the strength to tie his fuckin’ shoes. There’s no way he could take me. If you ask me, leech,” he spat the word as he addressed Doyle, “you cain’t barely get on your feet again, much less lay a finger on me!” “Shut up, before I shut you up, kid!” the big guy, Gamble, said. “No one’s askin’ your opinion. He’s skinny ’cause he ain’t been eatin’ is all. But that don’t concern you. We got a special buyer for this one, so you’ll keep your hands off.” “But he—” Another smack, and this time the younger one snarled, but after a fierce glare from the big man, he cowered back. “Don’t let looks deceive ya, boy,” Gamble said, turning his dark, glittering gaze back on his prey. “They’re all fuckin’ monsters. Every last one. Now go get that.” He nodded toward the package on the ground. “I wanna see what was so important he came here to get rid of it.” No! If they opened it, read it, they’d know everything. Who, where… “It’s nothing,” Doyle ground out past the pain. But he knew he couldn’t protest too much or they’d know for sure it was 11

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something. The young one grabbed the cash and the sealed brown padded envelope off the ground. He kept the money, but handed over the package. The older man took it and read the address. Please don’t figure it out. Just toss it aside, Doyle silently implored. But it wasn’t meant to be. The man tore it open and peered inside. “What is it?” Alton demanded, trying to snatch back the package. Gamble shoved him away and pulled the black hardback book from the envelope, opened the cover, and began to silently read. No… Doyle squeezed his eyes closed, saying a quiet prayer. But he knew it was too late. “Well, well. What have we here?” The big guy smirked, checked out the address on the envelope again, then glanced down at him. “Looks like our friend here led us right to our next acquisition. Mighty obliged for making it so easy for us.” “Leave him alone. He’s not part of this,” Doyle growled. “Oh, but he will be.” Gamble grinned, his glee as unsettling as the crazy look in the kid’s eyes had been earlier. “Just stay away from him!” “And who’s going to stop me? You?” The man laughed. A battered truck pulled up alongside them and two men got out. Doyle knew instinctively they were the human forms of the two animals who’d left a few minutes ago. “Get ’im in the back,” Gamble ordered. The two hefted him up. They flung him into the bed of the truck, then clambered in with him and tied him down. He fought them, or tried, kicking, growling, trying to bite them, 12

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but had almost no strength left. And he could blame no one but himself. He’d damned himself to this fate… along with the one person in the world he’d never wanted to hurt. I’m sorry, son. Before they slammed the tailgate shut, he caught a glimpse of white against the graying wood steps. The letter. But he could scrape together no hope at the sight. No one would see it. And even if they did, the chances of it ever arriving at its destination now were almost nil. Here, in the end, when he’d tried to do something, just one thing, right… he’d still failed.

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CHAPTER 1 Feeling as if he’d stepped into a hazy and unsettling dream, Shaun McCarry stood alone, across from the priest, in the cold March rain. Though it was only four in the afternoon, darkness choked the wooded cemetery near the church as if it were much later. Water droplets coated everything in a misty sheen, splattering against Shaun’s face, dripping from his hair, making the thick grass under his feet slick and the newly unfurled leaves of the red oak and maple trees dark and heavy. His hands curled into fists in the pockets of his worn army surplus jacket as he stared at the open grave before him. How had the day come to this? This morning, when he’d hit the road for the mountainous 14

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southwestern tip of Virginia, he’d had no notion at all that by afternoon he’d be standing at Doyle’s funeral. It was supposed to have been a trip to get some answers. But now, there’d be none. The priest, Father McKenzie, droned on and on, his words white noise to Shaun—as meaningless and hollow as Shaun’s feelings about the man in the box at the bottom of the grave. For as long as Shaun could remember, Doyle had done his damnedest to run him off, and it had worked. He hadn’t seen or spoken to his father in years; the last time had been only long enough for them to fight. Again. And now he was gone. Shaun kept expecting to feel something. Didn’t people feel things when someone died? Maybe regret that he hadn’t gotten to say goodbye, that he hadn’t made an effort to find Doyle and try to see him since their last encounter. Or anger that Doyle hadn’t ever really been there for him, hadn’t been the father Shaun had always yearned for, and now there’d never be a chance for the man to make up for it. Instead, he was numb, as if the world had suddenly ground to a standstill and he was frozen in a moment in time, like an insect stuck in amber. But then Shaun realized his hands were shaking, letting him know in no uncertain terms that while his emotions might be in a state of paralysis, his body didn’t suffer the same fate. It was alive and kicking in flagrant irritation. His hands had a slight tremor that grew worse when he thought about it, his heart raced, and the weird, vague, gnawing sensation plaguing his gut all day had flared into a painful burn. He clenched his fists tighter and closed his eyes, wishing himself somewhere else. He’d just returned yesterday from a 15

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month in Nepal, doing research for a feature he was writing for National Geographic, and the details were still alive in his mind. He pictured the breathtaking beauty of the Himalayas rising above the clouds, the sky such a bright cerulean blue it made a person’s eyes ache. The old Buddhist monastery at Braga and the prayer flags lining the mountains. The rare snow leopard, sleek and graceful, that Shaun had caught glimpses of as it followed the group at a distance, perhaps curious about the humans crossing its territory. And the sense of unsullied peace and freedom that came from trekking the Annapurna circuit. If only he could transport himself back there right now with a just a thought. But even being back in his apartment in DC, catching up on email and chores, would be preferable to his current situation. If he wished hard enough, maybe this would turn out to be a dream. Maybe he was still in his bed, asleep, and when he woke up he’d have nothing more stressful to deal with than a cup of coffee, a pile of dirty laundry, and writing the first few paragraphs of his article. When he opened his eyes, however, the same dripping forest surrounded him, the same soggy, graying priest stood before him, and the scents of freshly turned damp earth and an underlying tang of moldering decay filled his nostrils. Not a dream then. Fuck, he hated funerals. And what was it with funerals and rain? Why did they always seem to go hand in hand, like one bad cliché layered on top of another? Everyone hates funerals. And as for the rain… it’s spring in Virginia. It always rains. Still, he couldn’t help grimacing at his surroundings. To him, funerals pretty much smacked of fakery and desperation—one last urgent attempt to dot all the i’s, and cross all the t’s to ensure the 16

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deceased got a place in heaven. In his opinion, it was too little too late. You got one shot at getting it right in life and if you didn’t, after you were dead it was too late to sugarcoat your mistakes. Besides, death should be dignified… and where was the dignity or honesty in glossy, pimped-out coffins, plastic grass, and rehashed religious pomp and ceremony? When it’s my time, give me an empty stretch of beach, a pyre of wood, and torch me. Clean, simple, back to nature, with no fuss. Not that anyone in the tiny town of Dreamspell, Virginia was making much of a fuss today. Despite the church’s ceremonial attempt to save Doyle’s eternal soul, Shaun was the lone attendee at the service. Father McKenzie had told him Doyle had lived in the area for almost a year—a record stay for Doyle, Shaun noted— but in spite of that fact, not a single other person had bothered to come pay their respects. What kind of testament was it to a person’s life when no one gave a damn when you died? Except me. I’m here. Yeah, and the irony that his own appearance at the burial had been accidental wasn’t lost on Shaun. An unexpected wave of loneliness washed over him. “Would you like to say a few words about your father? Perhaps speak of some of your memories of him?” Caught off guard at the priest’s query, Shaun stared blankly at the man for a moment before his gaze skittered away and settled on the hole in the ground where the coffin had already been lowered. Memories. Past tense. Shaun winced. This is really happening and he’s really dead. When Shaun had gotten here today, he hadn’t been sure he’d find Doyle. He knew his father had been in this area, but Doyle 17

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wasn’t one for sticking around in one place for long, making the odds he’d still be here pretty slim. The town was small, though, not much more than a microscopic blip on the map, so he’d hoped maybe someone would remember seeing him or know where he might have been staying. Doyle had mailed a letter to him from here, so Shaun’s first stop had been at the post office, which had turned out to be a tiny, white, ramshackle trailer on the winding mountain road. The hard-worn woman behind the sagging counter had studied him suspiciously—giving Shaun the clear impression that outsiders were either rare or not welcome. She had, however, recognized Doyle’s name when Shaun asked about him. Recognized it, but had given Shaun another strange look and, without offering any explanation, sent him to the church to see Father McKenzie. Shaun had arrived at the church an hour ago, only to discover Doyle was dead. His body had been found in the woods by hikers three days ago. An animal attack, it seemed. Most likely a bear, Father McKenzie had speculated, saying they didn’t usually attack humans, but if they were hungry or felt threatened, it could happen. And just like that, Shaun had found himself fatherless and attending the burial, which had been scheduled for this afternoon. A burial, he’d been informed, the church had taken it upon itself to foot the bill for—out of the goodness of its sacred heart—since Doyle had had no regular income and they’d been unaware he had family. Father McKenzie had been quick to add, however, that since Shaun was here now, it would be customary for him to make a healthy donation to the church as a gesture of goodwill. Un-fucking-real. How was it that after all these years of not even seeing the man, he still ended up having to cough up money for Doyle’s debts? Would history forever repeat itself? 18

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No, not anymore… he’s gone now. “Son?” Father McKenzie urged, his tone impatient, and Shaun suddenly realized it wasn’t the first time the man had prodded him to respond. Clearing his head, he tried to remember the question the priest had asked. “Um… no. I don’t need to say anything.” What was there to say? He was hardly qualified to speak about Doyle’s recent life. And anything he might have said about the past wouldn’t be the white-washed remembrances the priest was no doubt looking for. “Come now. Surely there’s something.” The fiery complaint in Shaun’s gut flared up again. “No,” he bit out, not meaning to sound quite so testy, but unable to temper his tone thanks to the unexpected pain. The priest gave him a reproachful stare, then shook his head and launched into something in Latin. His attitude made Shaun feel like a kid, which pissed him off, but also caused the loneliness he’d felt earlier to deepen and tighten. Like you used to feel when Doyle went on a bender and left you alone while he disappeared for days on end? God, he’d tried so hard to forget about all that. A motion out of the corner of his eye caught Shaun’s attention, offering a reprieve from the overload of old memories. He glanced up at the low, treed ridge overlooking the cemetery and saw a dark-clad figure standing amongst the trees, fifty yards away. The man—it had to be a man because even though he wasn’t particularly tall, everything about him, from his stance to his build, radiated masculinity—seemed to be staring straight at Shaun. Okay, probably not at him directly; but he was watching the funeral. So maybe there was someone else in this backwater 19

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community who’d had an interest in Doyle. If that were the case, though, why wasn’t the man down here by the grave instead of up on the hill? Whoever he was, Shaun couldn’t shake the odd feeling the man was actually looking at him. Not at the priest or the grave—at him. A shimmer of tension crept up his spine. Don’t be stupid. Of course he’s not. This is nothing more than jet lag, lack of sleep last night, and too much caffeine on the drive down here. It’s making you jittery as hell. That’s probably why your heart’s racing and your stomach is burning, too. Shaun forced himself to look away and ignore the man. But as he dug his cold hands deeper into his pockets, wishing he’d thought to grab his gloves off the dash of his SUV, his right hand closed around the envelope he’d shoved in there this morning. The letter was the reason he was here. Last night, when he’d arrived home from Nepal, he’d found the dirt-smeared envelope in the stack of mail his landlady had picked up for him. Now, even without looking at it, he could see the letter in his mind’s eye—the quickly scribbled words in black marker in Doyle’s handwriting: Run. Keep running. Don’t let them find you. Just as he had last night, he wondered again what in the hell that was supposed to mean? Unbidden, Shaun found his gaze drawn back to the stranger on the hill. He swore he could still feel the man’s eyes on him, and it set his skin crawling with a sense of foreboding. As he stared up at the man, his heart rate accelerated to an even faster thrum. Why was the guy watching him? But then he shook his head and yanked himself back to real 20

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life. No, damn it! There was no way he was going to let Doyle’s paranoia rub off on him. He’d gotten away from that crap a long time ago, and he wasn’t going to let one note from Doyle twist his mind. Especially since it was the first time he’d heard from his father in years. After all that time, there’d been nothing else in the letter. No greeting. No signature. No “I’m sorry” or “How are you?” Not even an explanation. Just the odd and ominous words on a smudged sheet of hastily folded notebook paper in an envelope with Shaun’s address. He wasn’t even sure how his father had known where to find him. The last time they’d had contact, eight years ago, Shaun had been working and trying to put himself through school in Pennsylvania. From there he’d moved to Maryland for a while, and then to DC two years ago. But he supposed anybody who knew how to get on a computer and use the Internet could find just about anybody these days. It wasn’t like he’d been trying to hide from Doyle—he’d been living his life in plain sight. At first he hadn’t known what to think about the contents of the letter, except that maybe all the drinking had finally sent his father over the edge and made him full-on delusional. Doyle had always been paranoid and edgy, always looking over his shoulder, always a loner, and never willing to trust anyone. Some of Shaun’s first real memories, when he was six or seven years old, were of moving frequently, from one low-rent hovel to another, never in one place long enough to make friends or do anything normal kids did because his dad kept them on the move. He couldn’t remember living any other way. He knew when his mom was alive they’d stayed in one place because once, long ago, Doyle had told him they did. But Shaun had no memories of that time—he couldn’t 21

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even remember his mom except for a dull, ever-present ache inside him over her loss. Doyle had never told Shaun what had changed after his mother died and why they moved all the time, even when Shaun was old enough to ask and then demand answers. Instead, the older Shaun got, the more withdrawn Doyle had become until, by the time Shaun was a teenager, his father had pretty much stopped talking to him all together and retreated into his bottle full-time. They’d still kept moving, but Doyle didn’t bother trying to find work anymore, not even temporary jobs. They’d lived almost solely on charity from the churches and food kitchens in the small towns where they’d landed, and whatever spare change Shaun could scrounge up doing odd jobs. Shaun had no fond memories of growing up. And after being dragged around the country by an alcoholic father who didn’t seem to give a damn about anyone but himself, at sixteen, he’d split and gone his own way. He’d only seen Doyle a handful of times after that. The last had been on Shaun’s twenty-second birthday. It was another bitter touch of irony that tomorrow would be his thirtieth— eight years almost exactly. One day you’ll understand why I’ve done the things I’ve done, Doyle had said that day when Shaun had challenged his drinking and derided him for not getting a job. “What the hell happened to you? You told me when Mom was alive you were a teacher at some fancy private school, a decent member of society. Now look at you!” Shaun had sneered. This time, Doyle had gotten drunk, driven his car into the side of someone’s house, hadn’t had insurance, had been tossed in jail, and had had the cops contact Shaun to come bail him out and pay his fees. Shaun had driven two and a half hours, from Pittsburgh to 22

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Zanesville, Ohio, and then back again, after emptying his savings account for Doyle’s wild rumpus. It had been a spectacular way to spend his birthday. Not. “You’ll see,” Doyle had said. “One day you’ll be just like me.” “Never!” Shaun had shouted. “If you were the last damn sorry person on this earth, I wouldn’t be like you!” It was the only time he’d ever seen his father flinch and look truly beaten, but Shaun had been too furious to care. He’d told Doyle he was done with him for good, then he’d stormed away and vowed never to let Doyle back into his life. Yet here he was. One note from him and he’d come running. Shaun sighed. His first instinct when he’d opened the envelope yesterday was to throw the letter in the trash. The words themselves were crazy. Just who was he supposed to run from? He had no enemies, and if Doyle had some, they wouldn’t have any interest in Shaun. Yet he couldn’t get past the weird sensation that fear radiated from the page like a tangible thing—like he could almost smell the acrid bite of it. What had his father been so afraid of? Enough that he’d bothered to find Shaun’s address and contact him after so many years of not caring. If it was so damned important, Doyle, why didn’t you take two seconds to tell me what you wanted me to run from? Christ, this is so typical. Shaun dared another peek at the man on the ridge. He hadn’t moved. The stranger had the hood of what looked like a dark coat pulled up over his head, so Shaun couldn’t see any facial features at all. Not that he would have seen much from this distance anyway, but the hood only added to the mystery. Don’t let them find you, Doyle had said. 23

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Even though he was trying his damnedest to convince himself otherwise, Shaun couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been “found.” For God’s sake, no one’s looking for you. Stop staring at the guy! With difficulty, once more Shaun forced his gaze away from the mystery man. “Pray with me, son,” the priest said, giving Shaun a don’teven-think-about-refusing-me look. Shaun sighed and tilted his head down, taking in the view of his favorite worn Converse sneakers, now soaking wet and covered in mud. But, as usual, his mind was far from focused on the priest’s words. There’d been no further clues on or in the envelope from Doyle except the postmark. The letter had been mailed ten days ago, from here. Ten days ago he was still alive. A tiny flicker of regret finally sparked to life in Shaun. Regardless of his crappy parenting, Doyle had been his father, his blood, his only family as far as Shaun knew. But he quickly squashed the feeling before it could fully take hold. He didn’t owe Doyle anything. Everything Shaun had in his life—his career, his self-respect, his moral code—he’d gotten from his own hard work and self-reliance. Getting away from Doyle all those years ago had been the best thing he’d ever done. Yet, after a sleepless night last night, Shaun knew he’d never be able to put it to rest unless he tried to find out what Doyle had meant. So he’d taken to the road this morning, and found himself here. He shook his head. An animal attack. What the hell? 24

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It just seemed too surreal. What were the odds that after all this time he’d heard from his father and actually decided to come looking for him, only to discover he’d been killed in a freak animal attack? It made Shaun think of the animal scuffle he’d heard when he first arrived at the church this afternoon. He’d gotten out of his SUV and, as he’d crossed the muddy parking lot, he’d heard growls and snarls coming from back in the woods, like a couple of creatures were really having it out. Did they have some kind of out of control problem with the wildlife around here? With the final “amen” said, Father McKenzie approached from around the grave, and Shaun steeled himself against the “I’m so sorry for your loss” that was surely coming. More fakery—plastic platitudes to go with the plastic grass. Something about the priest got under Shaun’s skin. He didn’t know why. He just knew that the closer the man drew, the more off he himself felt—his fists tightened in his pockets until his nails dug into his palms, his heart rate increased, his muscles tensed as if getting ready for quick movement. But not like he wanted to bolt away… more like he was bracing to spring at the man. What the fuck? Do you feel that threatened by religion and social establishment? Or it is just that you’re too scared to admit you might actually feel grief over Doyle’s death, and accepting sympathy would expose you? Shaun winced, and forced a deep breath to calm down. But instead of giving the expected words of comfort, the priest merely held out his hand, offering something Shaun couldn’t see. When Shaun tilted his head, silently questioning, Father McKenzie said, “It’s the key to your father’s cabin. Follow the west road out of town, it winds farther up into the mountains. 25

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About a mile or so out of town, there will be a dirt road on your right marked Fulghum’s Creek. Turn there, go another half-mile or so and you’ll see a set of dirt tracks on the left, next to a lightning split tree. Follow the dirt tracks back into the woods and you’ll find his place. I’m assuming you’ll want to visit it to go through his things.” Shaun took the key, and was about to ask how the priest had ended up with it. Father McKenzie beat him to it. “He was a good man. Came to mass regularly. Some time ago he gave me a spare key in case of emergencies.” Shaun didn’t know if he was more shocked to hear that his father had actually taken the time to get to know someone in the town, had become a regular church attendee, or to hear him described as “a good man.” He had to bite back the first thought that came to him… Are we talking about the same guy? “Was he renting the cabin?” he asked. “He had an arrangement with the couple who own it. They joined the Peace Corps and didn’t want to leave the cabin sitting empty for the two years they’d be gone. The agreement was that he could live there rent free in exchange for taking care of the place and keeping up the maintenance on it.” That probably explained why Doyle had stayed here in Dreamspell so long, although Shaun was once again surprised because he couldn’t imagine the Doyle of old caring much about any commitments he’d made. “If you happen to have their names and contact information, I’ll need to get in touch with them.” “Cal and Lucy Smith, but I don’t know how to reach them. I’m assuming you’ll find that information at the cabin. I’m sure your father has it written down. I had planned to go look myself 26

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tomorrow, but now that you’re here… ” Shaun nodded. Now that I’m here to take care of all the loose ends, you’re off the hook. “Your father spoke of you from time to time, you know,” Father McKenzie said, his jaw clenching. “But always in the past tense and only briefly as if it caused him much pain. I assumed you were dead.” The words hit Shaun hard, like a punch to his already burning gut. Was that what I was to you, Doyle? Dead. “We hadn’t seen each other in a while,” he mumbled. The priest gave him a hard stare. Weren’t priests supposed to be nonjudgmental? Yet Shaun knew he was being sized up and found lacking. You didn’t live with him for sixteen years, you sanctimonious jerk. I wasn’t the one lacking. “I was wondering,” Shaun said. “Why didn’t you just cremate him? Wouldn’t it have been… ” He hesitated. What he wanted to say was wouldn’t it have been cheaper? But he realized that would probably sound crass, and he was clearly already on the priest’s shit list. So instead what came out was, “… more convenient?” Even that still earned him another of those scolding looks. “If you had known your father at all, you’d know that fire was one of his greatest fears.” Shaun’s jaw tensed, but rather than let the priest’s jibe get a reaction, instead he found himself wondering why Doyle was afraid of fire. Shaun didn’t remember that ever being a topic of conversation when he was growing up. Father McKenzie drew in a deep breath and let it out, as if he were mentally schooling himself to remember his role as benevolent comforter—it was like watching in slow motion as he 27

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drew a mask down over his face and suddenly appeared sympathetic and concerned. He clasped Shaun briefly on the shoulder. “God go with you and watch over you.” But then the holier-than-thou gleam returned to his eyes. “May you somehow find some peace.” Without waiting for a response from Shaun, he turned and headed back toward the church, the hem of his robes dragging through the wet grass. Shaun watched him go. “My conscience is clean, and I’m just fine, thanks,” he murmured. For some reason, the priest’s words made Shaun think again of the stranger, whom he’d momentarily forgotten. He looked up, but the man had disappeared. Part of him experienced an internal sigh of relief. But another part hated that he hadn’t seen him leave so he’d know in which direction he’d gone. He would have felt better if he’d seen him get into a car and drive away, or walk in the opposite direction of the cemetery. Either would have assured him the man wasn’t interested in him. Stop already! For God’s sake! Two men in overalls and rubber boots appeared out of a shed nearby, shovels in hand. Coming to fill the grave. Time to go. Shaun opened his hand to look at the key in his palm, then curled his cold fingers around it and stowed it in his pocket along with the letter. The rain seemed to have let up a bit, from the big pelting drops to a persistent light drizzle that somehow wasn’t much better. Shaun trudged across the cemetery, his shoes squelching in the puddles. He should have worn boots today, but, hell, it hadn’t been raining when he’d left home. He circled around the stone church to his SUV, which sat alone at the edge of the parking lot, bordered 28

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by the encroaching darkness of the forest. The mud-splattered black FJ Cruiser looked the worse for wear after taking on the winding mountain roads in the rain. He reached for the door, but before he could open it, a low, masculine voice from directly behind him said, “I’m sorry ’bout your dad.” Shaun’s heart pounded like a bass drum. Jeez! How had someone snuck up on him? He turned… and discovered the stranger from the ridge stood less than two feet away from him, close enough to reach out and touch. And, for a split second, Shaun almost did touch him, warring between the desire to push back the hood of his black wool coat that kept his face hidden in shadow so he could really see him and know who he was dealing with, and the urge to lunge and tear into him for sneaking up on him. He did neither, forcibly reining himself in with another deep breath to settle his edginess. What’s the matter with me? First the priest and now him. Shaun had never been a violent person, never felt the need to pick fights. He couldn’t understand why he was wound so tight today. Except for Doyle’s damn letter. Gee thanks, Dad. Your final legacy… leave me infected with your paranoia. “You all right?” the stranger asked, sounding concerned. Shaun realized the silence had stretched unnaturally long. “I’m fine,” he mumbled, wishing he could see who he was talking to. He could tell very little about the guy except that up close he was a few inches shorter than Shaun, had a lean build, wore jeans turned dark from the rain, and heavy black leather boots. But his voice unexpectedly affected Shaun—it had an easy drawl to it, a Texas accent maybe, with a gritty, sensual undertone that made Shaun 29

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think of… well, of slow, hot, sweaty sex. Christ. His pulse thrummed in a way that didn’t have anything to do with caffeine overload or whatever else ate at him. Realizing the silence was dragging too long again, he said, “You knew him? My father?” There was a pause, as if the question had surprised the stranger. “A bit.” “A bit?” “I… talked to him a few times.” “Do you live around here?” “Not really.” What was with the vague responses? But even more than that, Shaun suddenly wondered how the man had known who he was. The unsettled tension of earlier crept up his spine again, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. The only person he’d spoken to since he’d gotten here this afternoon was Father McKenzie. And the woman at the post office, but he hadn’t told her who he was. The priest was the only one who knew Doyle was his father. How could this guy possibly know it? Who exactly are you? he was about to demand, but the stranger chose that moment to reach up and push off his hood, causing the words to die unspoken on Shaun’s tongue. Shaun found himself staring again, blatantly, at a man around his own age, with disheveled dark blond hair, a golden glint of stubble along angular cheeks and chin, a dusting of freckles across his nose, sensual lips, and a pair of striking, pale green eyes. A ripple of something—Familiarity? Déjà vu?—slid over Shaun. Did he know this guy? No, surely not. He would have remembered meeting someone like him. The stranger had the kind 30

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of active, outdoorsy appearance that had always appealed to Shaun. He wasn’t classically handsome, but there was an unpretentious, down-to-earth sexiness about him that Shaun knew he would have found hard to forget. The man’s warm gaze seared into Shaun, like an electric current passing through his body. The probing stare was so intense, so filled with… Jesus, was it need?… that Shaun’s blood suddenly ran hot and he found himself thinking about sex again. And how it would feel to strip off the man’s clothes right here and now, and lick every inch of what he was certain was a hot and delectable body, until the man writhed in pleasure and desperation. Then Shaun would find what he knew would be the perfect fit for himself between the man’s legs, and thrust so deep inside him, the stranger would cry out and beg for mercy, beg for more, all in the same breath. Shaun knew he’d comply, too. Knew he’d give the man everything he wanted, would plough into him until they were both hoarse from their cries, until their bodies shook from need and glorious exhaustion. Until they were both spent and sweaty and covered in each other’s scents… Holy crap. Shaun swallowed hard and blinked as reality settled back in around him, yanking him out of the vivid daydream. What had just gotten into him? Just a minute ago he was ready to attack the guy for sneaking up on him, and now he couldn’t think straight because he wanted to fuck him. His skin tingled, his heart thudded, his balls ached. The weird thing was, he was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one suddenly and powerfully turned on. Shaun got the distinct impression the stranger was fighting the urge to haul Shaun against him and do something similar to what Shaun had been thinking. He could practically feel the sexual tension sizzling in the air. Could 31

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almost smell the man’s desire… smell his own desire as well, and the heady mix of both together. “Who are you?” Shaun breathed. “Do I know you?” He couldn’t shake the feeling that he did, as a pang of longing he couldn’t explain settled in his chest. “You don’t remember?” “Should I?” The words were barely out of his mouth when his stomach chose that exact moment to clench in singular agony. Shaun gasped and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees as the sharp pain wreaked havoc on his gut. “You’re not okay,” the man said, stepping closer. He crouched down next to Shaun, putting his face at eye level with Shaun, and Shaun caught a whiff of damp, woodsy spice. “Just keep breathin’ slowly.” “I’m fine,” Shaun insisted. “No. You’re not. You’re goin’ through a lot right now.” Shaun grimaced, hating that this stranger might see him as weak or think he was breaking down from grief. “I’m not— This isn’t because of—” He grunted, fighting another wave of pain. “I know.” The man rested a wool-gloved hand on Shaun’s shoulder, and his gaze was fully serious and filled with empathy. “How can you—” “Just breathe.” Shaun was trying. “Yeah, like that. Slow and deep.” Shit. Those particular words in that warm, raspy drawl only caused him to conjure up another sexual image, this one of the two of them sprawled out beneath the canopy of trees, their bodies locked together and straining as they strove to get closer, as Shaun strove to be deeper inside him. He could almost feel the heat of the 32

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stranger’s body and the tight grip surrounding his cock, squeezing… squeezing. He grew dizzy at the sensation. Then, once again, he was back in the parking lot, in the rain, bent over in pain, with the man next to him. He looked at the guy askance and groaned. “Your word choices… not helping.” The twitch of a smile on the sexy lips and a mischievous twinkle that suddenly sparked in his eyes told Shaun the man knew exactly what he’d meant. “Sorry,” he said, although he didn’t remotely sound like he was. Shaun wanted to keep drowning in that oh-so-familiar and sexy gaze, but another round of burning hit his stomach, and he had to draw in another deep breath to quell it. What was wrong with him? Maybe he had an ulcer. Or maybe he’d picked up a stomach bug or parasite in Nepal and it was just now rearing its ugly head. He moaned, and tried to focus on breathing through the worst of the pain. “It’s gonna be okay,” the stranger said. “Sorry. I… I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It just hit me.” As suddenly as the smile and the sparkle in the man’s eye appeared, it disappeared. His expression grew sober again and he cocked his head to the side as if he were assessing what Shaun had just said. “Maybe I’m coming down with something,” Shaun added. The wave began to ebb, but left him still panting and shaky. “You don’t know… ?” The words were spoken slowly, and so quietly Shaun wasn’t even sure they were meant for him. He looked up, questioning. Lines creased the man’s forehead and crinkled around his eyes, as surprise and concern fought for dominance in his expression. 33

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“What?” Sean breathed. “What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?” The hand on his shoulder squeezed. “Shaun, listen to me.” For some inexplicable reason, the sound of the stranger’s voice soothed him. Until Shaun suddenly realized the man had called him by name. “How do you know my name?” A hint of sadness flickered in his eyes. “Do you really not remember? At all?” “What are you talking about?” The man sighed. “I don’t have time to explain right now. I wish I did, but I have to go.” His tone was urgent, and so was his expression. “Listen to me, though. You have to hang on a while longer. It’s gonna get worse before it gets better.” “Wha—” He stood, and as he did Shaun caught a whiff of something that made his heart pound all over again. A whiff of something metallic. His senses labeled it even before his mind could wrap around what it meant. Blood. “Watch your back, Shaun,” the man said, his face a study in seriousness. “I’ll find you.” “Who the hell are you?” Shaun ground out, “Your friend.” Before Shaun could speak again, the stranger was gone, running across the muddy lot with an oddly powerful grace. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, giving Shaun one last unreadable look, then disappeared into the trees. Alone once again in the cold and damp, Shaun straightened and leaned against the door of his SUV. “What is going on here?” 34

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CHAPTER 2 After the bizarre encounter with the stranger, Shaun sat in his vehicle for a good half hour, his forehead resting on his steering wheel, his eyes closed, trying to keep his mind clear and calm, and his breathing steady and even. He’d found a water bottle in the backseat that had a few sips left in it, which he’d swallowed, but the liquid had done little more than dampen his dry throat. So now he just hoped that if he stayed still and took it easy, the pain in his gut would pass. While he sat, the rain pattering on the windshield lightened even more and finally stopped. When the gnawing burn in his stomach had eased, he decided before he checked out Doyle’s cabin he had to find something to eat. He didn’t know what was ailing him, but figured all the coffee he’d drunk today on a mostly empty stomach hadn’t helped 35

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anything. He’d had a piece of toast before he left home this morning, and nothing since—food just hadn’t sounded good. In spite of the fact it still really didn’t, he hoped if he got something to eat in him, he’d feel better. So he stopped into the little grocery store called Grommets’ that sat across the road from an oldfashioned service station. The elderly couple who ran the store, Beulah and Norbert Grommet, introduced themselves like Shaun was a long lost son, and clearly didn’t have any of the reservations the woman at the post office had about out-of-towners. In fact, though Shaun had hoped to get in and out quickly, he was hard pressed to escape the place because as he wandered the five short aisles, picking out a few snacks, his steps causing the old floorboards to creak and pop, Beulah followed him like a plump, polyester-clad mother hen, talking nonstop. Norbert sat next to the scuffed wooden counter, his belly bulging over his pants, perched on a bright green metal stool that barely looked sturdy enough to hold his weight, chiming in with his two cents. Shaun couldn’t have squeezed in a word if he’d wanted to. Which he really didn’t. At first, he mostly tuned out the specifics of what the couple rattled on about—something about the weather and the Farmer’s Almanac and someone named Old Gussie, who apparently had a knack for forecasting because of her arthritis. He tuned out completely at that point—until Beulah changed topics and looked directly at Shaun. Her words caused his heart to stall for a moment, then resume with a ragged thumping. “Ye know, yer daddy, he weren’t the most talkative man, but he stopped by here before church ev’ry Sunday.” “Bought hisself a Baby Ruth,” Norbert said, nodding. “And then he come by again afterward for his groceries for the week, loading ’em up in his knapsack. Walked everywhere, he did, 36

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all the way down from that holler where he lived—a right fer sight, ’specially in the winter. Poor man always looked exhausted, and was skinny as a beanpole.” Beulah shook her head. “Always worried he weren’t gittin’ enough to eat. I tried and tried to git him to take some extra bacon or some more of them fried pies he liked, but he never would.” “Said he had to be careful wit his funds,” Norbert chimed in. “Them feds only ’llow so much food stamps each month, ye know.” “A few times I tried to get ’im to jest take a few things and not worry ’bout paying. But he refused. He was quiet, he was, but had a streak a pride a mile long.” Beulah shook her head and clucked. “Said he wouldn’t take no more charity than what the gov’ment was givin’ him.” “Ye know, a lotta men in his position mighta given themselves over to the salvation of the bottle—” Norbert began. Beulah interrupted, nodding. She gestured to the back wall, covered in bottles of everything from cheap wine to pricey whiskey. “But yer daddy, he never once picked up so much as an ounce of liquor from that there shelf.” Shaun stopped stock-still in the middle of an aisle and stared dumbfounded at the old couple. Candy bars… food… but no booze? Doyle didn’t accept charity? Since when? What the hell? “Whatsa matter, son. Ye all right?” Norbert’s bushy gray brows drew together over his eyes in concern. “Um… yeah.” But once again, the prevailing question that had been eating a hole in him since all the talk of his “daddy” had begun, was… “How do you know who I am?” “Marjean down ’t post office come by on her way home,” 37

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Beulah said. “Said Doyle’s young ’un was in town and had gone to the church.” Good God. News traveled faster in this rinky-dink town than over a damned high-speed cellular network. But what about what Father McKenzie had told him—about how he’d thought Shaun was dead? How could the woman at the post office have known who he was if people didn’t know he existed? Before he could ask, Beulah said, “That Father McKenzie down ’t Saint Brigid’s, he ain’t from ’round here, comes from some’ere up north and is full of hisself sometimes… he claimed Doyle’s son was dead. But the moment ye stepped into the post office, Marjean said she knowed who ye was. I knew, too, soon’s ye come in here. Look just like yer daddy, ye do. Them hainted blue eyes—” “Hainted?” “Like ye seen a ghost. Hainted. Ye got his dark hair colorin’, his height. ’Cept yer younger. And ye don’t have the scars.” “Scars?” “He had some kinda accident a couple years back, ’afore he come here,” Norbert said, his voice deep and resonant. He reminded Shaun of a giant, gray-haired bullfrog sitting on a lily pad. “Don’t know no details ’cause he never talked much, but it left burn scars on his arms and hands and one side a his face.” Burn scars… Shaun tried to picture his father with scars and it caused a strange hitch in his chest. What had happened to Doyle? If you’d stayed in touch with him, you might have known, his conscience said. For the second time today, regret crept up on him unexpectedly. Except this time it wasn’t as easy to sweep it under the rug as he had earlier. Not after the things he was learning about 38

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Doyle from these people, and even from Father McKenzie—not just the details of his life here in Dreamspell, but the way people spoke of him, as if he were a quiet but fully upstanding man. Was it possible Doyle had managed to gain some semblance of control over his life during the past eight years? Had it been wrong of Shaun to shut Doyle out completely and not give him another chance, or at least check in on him from time to time? His still-aching gut reacted to the new round of stress by surging with a flare-up of pain, almost as bad as the one that had hit him in the parking lot of the church when the stranger had waylaid him. A groan escaped him before he could stop it. He clutched the shelf of canned goods next to where he stood, closed his eyes, bent over, and dragged in several shaking breaths. “There, there now, son.” Beulah patted his back. “Ye di’n know about your daddy’s accident, did ye?” “I… I hadn’t seen him in a while,” he found himself saying again as he straightened up, still hurting but forcing himself to keep functioning and not be a wuss again in front of strangers. But instead of the cold shoulder his confession about not seeing Doyle for a while had earned him from Father McKenzie, Beulah pulled him into her broad embrace, all while patting his back and murmuring softly. “Poor dear. What a shock this all must be for ye, discoverin’ your daddy’s passed on, and in such a horrible way. There, there.” Shaun found himself leaning in to her, almost against his will, yet he couldn’t make himself pull away, breathing in the scent of rosewater and a faint hint of moth balls, and finding it all comforting in a weird, maternal way. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered him comfort—except the stranger 39

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earlier, whose presence had been oddly arousing, edgy, yet familiar and soothing all at the same time. But to have someone pull him into a hug and coo to him like a child… had he ever had that? Maybe from his mother, but as sad as it made him, he couldn’t remember her. And Doyle had spent most of his time drowning his sorrows in his bottle, so physical gestures of affection hadn’t exactly been high on his priority list. But as Beulah hugged him, a vision suddenly sprang up in Shaun’s mind’s eye, of him hugging back, tighter… tighter… tighter… until the old woman’s eyes popped and the blood pounded through her veins. He could almost hear it, smell it, hot and thick. He saw himself licking his lips in eagerness. The exposed skin of her neck was close… so close… and the blood thrummed beneath it. Want it. Reality slammed back in on Shaun and he blinked. What the fuck? He pushed away from her, taking a couple of steps back, breathing hard. Beulah didn’t seem to notice, or if she did, took it in stride. “You’ll be goin’ up yer daddy’s place this ev’ning, I’m sure, so ye best take some real food and not just that little dab ye got there,” she said, pointing to the trail mix and crackers in his hand. “There ain’ likely much in his cupboards.” She began scurrying around as fast as her Keds-clad feet would carry her, pulling loaves of bread, bags of potato chips, packages of cookies and lunch meat off shelves and piling them in the middle of the counter. The strange, way-too-real vision he’d just had had left Shaun discombobulated. He felt sick, nauseated at what he’d seen, on top of his already protesting insides. The old couple continued to talk 40

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and for a full minute whatever they said didn’t even register. It was all Shaun could do to keep breathing and stay on his feet. The desperate urge to escape, hell, to run as fast as he could tore through him. But as he watched Beulah add more items to the pile on the counter, he knew he couldn’t just leave without saying something. “I don’t really think—” he started. But she cut him off. “You’ll be needin’ some milk, too. And some coffee.” “No, you see, I don’t—” “Oh! I almost forgot. Norb, ye go in the back and get this boy some of that special Rocky Road ice cream ye keep in your stash. And don’t give me that look, ye old coot, I know ye got it hid in the back of the double freezer. Four cartons as of this mornin’. Go on! Scoot!” Norbert shook his head as he hefted himself up from his green perch. “Shitfire, woman, I cain’t keep no secrets from ye.” He shuffled into the back room. “That’s wha fifty-two years of marriage’ll do,” Beulah said with a bright, dentured smile. “Look,” Shaun said, finally able to get in a word, “I really appreciate all this. I do. But I’m not planning to stay.” And he didn’t have the heart to tell her, after all the fuss about ice cream, that as un-American as it probably seemed, he actually didn’t like ice cream. “It don’t matter none. You’re a growed man and growed men has ta eat. Now don’t ye ar-gee with me. I raised six sons of ma own.” “And I’ll tell ye something’ else,” Norbert said, returning from the back with a carton of ice cream, huffing and puffing like he’d just run a marathon. “Ye been through enough today. This is all on 41

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the house.” Beulah nodded, clucking her agreement. They began loading the food into plastic grocery bags. “No,” Shaun said, his heart racing. “I can’t let you do that.” “Ye can and ye will,” Norbert said, his deep voice quiet and no-nonsense. “Don’t be stubborn like yer daddy,” Beulah added. “If folks is a-wantin’ to help ye, then ye let ’em. That’s jist the way it is here in the mountains. We take keer a our own.” “Yes we do.” “But—” “No buts, dear.” Beulah gave him a watery-eyed smile and patted his hand. “You jest let us take keer of ye.” He didn’t know why, because he wasn’t normally an overly emotional kind of guy, but he felt a hot sting behind his eyes. Maybe it was because it had been a truly crappy day all the way around. “Thank you,” he murmured, swallowing hard. “One more thing.” Norbert took a wad of keys off his belt, bent over, and unlocked something under the register. Then he stood straight and set a black canister on the counter. “Bear spray. After what happened to yer daddy, ye best take this along wit ye. They ain’t yet caught the bear what got him. As I understand, he was attacked several miles from his place, but if the ol’ beastie’s lingerin’ out there anywhere, best to be on the safe side. Ye keep this wit ye if ye go out into the woods. Never know what might be roamin’ out there.” The comment sent a shiver along Shaun’s spine. He thought again of Doyle’s letter. Run. Keep running. Don’t let them find you. Oh, for God’s sake, stop! Norbert Grommet was talking about 42

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bears not bad guys. And besides, who even knew what Doyle had meant when he sent that letter. In any case, Shaun had traveled all over the world, to places with sky-high crime rates, to third world countries with violent political unrest, to rainforests and mountains filled with predatory animals and other natural threats. He always had a healthy sense of respect for dangers he might face, but he’d never been scared before. And I’m not scared now, damn it. Even if he did get his act together, I’m still not going to buy into Doyle’s crazy delusions. “All righty. I think that’s everything,” Norbert said, tucking the bear spray down into a bag. “And if there’s anything else ye need, son, ye let us know, ye hear?” Shaun nodded, still feeling awkward about accepting all the groceries for free. When he’d taken off on his own all those years ago, he’d promised himself he’d never accept handouts again like he’d been forced to living with Doyle. But he truly felt that if he continued to protest or insist on paying today, he’d only insult Beulah and Norbert—and though he barely knew them, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Then he spied a metal lockbox on the counter, set to one side of the register, with a sign taped to it that said: Appalachian Veteran’s Relief Fund. Shaun dug his wallet out of his pocket, opened it, and pulled out several twenties. He pushed them through the metal slot on the box. “Well, now… ” Beulah look at him with misty dampness in her eyes. “That be right fine,” Norbert said, nodding his approval. “Right fine of ye, indeed, son. Thank’ee.” 43

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Shaun dipped his head in acknowledgment. He tucked his wallet back away and gathered up the plastic bags. “Ye come on back in real soon,” Beulah said. Shaun didn’t have the heart to remind her he wasn’t staying in town long. Instead, he nodded again. But then a thought crossed his mind. “There is one more thing… ” “What is it, son?” “There was a man earlier, at the church, who was at my father’s burial.” Well, sort of at it. “I wonder if you might know who he was.” “Your daddy was buried today?” Beulah looked aghast. “Um… yeah. I just came from there.” Beulah and Norbert shared a look. “That dad blamed McKenzie… ” Norbert muttered under his breath. “He ain’t rightly no Christian like I ever met,” Beulah said, shaking her head. “Not spreadin’ the word about Doyle McCarry’s funeral. He knew people would want to come. That just ain’t right.” People would want to come to Doyle’s funeral? So he wasn’t all alone here, an outcast? “Why would Father McKenzie do that?” he asked. “Not tell people when it was going to be?” Beulah got a hard look in her eyes. “He come to town a year or so ago, to take over Saint Brigid’s. The church has been here’s long as I can remember, started way back when a bunch of ScotchIrish came over and settled in these mountains, and in all the years since I was born ‘n’ raised here, weren’t never any problems between them that wanted to attend a Catholic mass and them who 44

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preferred to go to the Baptist church down ’t Shady Hollow. Father Joseph, who was the priest at Saint Brigid’s for, oh, how long was he there, Norb? Nigh on thirty years?” “Yep, ’bout that long.” “He was the nicest man, always kind and giving. Always said there were many paths to God but it didn’t matter none which one a person took, ’cause they all led to the same heaven. But then Father Joseph passed on last year from his heart ailment, and a short time later that man showed up. It ain’t been the same ’round here since. He don’t cotton to no one who don’t believe as he does, and since most of the folks here ain’t devout Catholic no more, and Father McKenzie closed the doors to all cept’n them who’ve been baptized in the Catholic church, well… ” “Let’s jest say he ain’t had too many parishioners of late,” Norbert said. “Yer daddy was one of the few. And don’t think for a hot second that we ever thought hard of yer daddy for that, ’cause he were a good man and he were entitled to his own b’liefs. He clearly found peace at Saint Brigid’s and that’s all a matters.” “But that still don’t make it right, what that McKenzie man done,” Beulah fumed. “Lot a folk in these parts wouldda come to pay their respects. What a bunch of backwoods hillbillies ye must think us, son, to have no one there.” She tsked and came over to hug Shaun another time, in spite of all the grocery bags he still juggled. “Jest ye know, we wouldda been there for ye if we’d only known.” A lump slid up into Shaun’s throat, blocking any words. All he could do was nod. “But that ain’t what you asked, son,” Norbert said. “Here we’ve gone on and on ’bout other things, when what you really wanted to know was about someone ye met today. This feller ye 45

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seen… does he live ’round ’ere? ” Shaun cleared his throat and shook his head. “He said no. But he never got a chance to tell me his name. He was around my age, shorter than I am, blond hair, dressed in a black wool coat with a hood. I just wondered if you might have seen him around?” Norbert’s forehead crinkled in thought. “Don’t recall seeing anyone like that. You, Beu?” “No, I don’t think so, dear,” Beulah said to Shaun. “Was he a frien’ of yer daddy’s?” “I’m not really sure.” “Well, if we do see ’im, ye want us to tell ’im you were askin’ after ’im?” “No. No thanks, that’s okay.” “We’ll keep our eye out for him nonetheless,” Norbert said, “and let ye know next time ye come by.” Shaun started again to leave, but stopped in the doorway and turned to look at the old couple. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done this evening. Thank you.” They beamed at him. “You come on back by soon, son.” As he exited the store, shutting the old couple’s chatter and the lights out behind him, Shaun noted that evening had fully settled over the mountains and the drizzle had stopped. The air was still so heavy with dampness, though, a wispy fog had formed around the trees and over the road. The raspy creeeek-creeeek of frogs chorused all around him in the approaching darkness. And the heavy scent of damp earth and decayed vegetation filled his lungs with each breath. It was beautiful, yet eerie… like something out of a horror movie, right before the slasher jumped out of the trees. Which made him think again about the stranger at the church who’d appeared out of nowhere, then had taken off into the woods. 46

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If Father McKenzie hadn’t made it public knowledge that Doyle was being buried, how had the stranger known to show up at the church? Maybe because he was following me. The thought spooked him. No, no way. That was paranoia talking again. If the guy had been following him, surely Shaun would have noticed. And besides, he’d just gotten back from Nepal. There was no way anyone would have known how to find him here—it’s not like he’d planned this trip to Virginia. Unless he was waiting for you when you got off the plane, or lurked outside your apartment and followed you down here. Jeez. Stop it! He closed his mind to the niggling thoughts trying to stir trouble. After a couple more futile attempts, they finally faded to silence. Much better. But then Shaun remembered what the stranger had said at the church shortly before he ran away… Watch your back, Shaun. I’ll find you. The prickling uneasiness returned.

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CHAPTER 3 As his shovel bit into the muddy ground, creating an everdeepening hole, Rannon James’s spirits sank right along with it. He wasn’t sure what had been the ultimate low point of his day. There were so many gems to choose from—the dead panic of arriving at Shaun’s apartment in DC this morning to discover Shaun wasn’t there and the area reeked of a Fel on the hunt. The drive down here, wondering the whole way, with a knot the size of Texas in the pit of his stomach, if he’d get to Shaun before the hunter did. The moment he’d had no choice but to take the Fel’s life before it took Shaun’s or his own. Or this… reduced to sneaking around in the evening gloom like a low-life criminal, digging a hole in the middle of the damned woods to bury a body. And yet, even after all that, what ate at him the most and he 48

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couldn’t stop thinking about, was the way Shaun had looked at him as he was leaving the church—his gaze stabbing with anger and suspicion, like Rannon was his enemy. Well, hell. Aren’t you? Especially when he finds out your dirty little secret. How do you think he’s gonna feel when you tell him you were bred to kill his kind? Especially since you never bothered to tell him the truth when you knew each other before. “I feel so much better now, thanks,” he mumbled. Damned conscience. Yeah, well, be grateful you have a conscience. Look what you would have become if you didn’t have one. He muttered a curse under his breath but knew his inner voice wasn’t wrong. All he had to do was look at his family—or the dead creature in the back of his truck—for an example of what he didn’t ever want to be. No… he wasn’t Shaun’s enemy, damn it. Not then, not now. And he hadn’t brought it up in the past because he and Shaun had been barely more than kids the last time they’d been together. During the few short months Shaun and his dad had lived in the tiny Texas town where Rannon had grown up, Shaun had quickly become the most important person in Rannon’s life. And in all his young, teenage insecurity, Rannon hadn’t wanted to say or reveal anything that would risk their friendship or drive Shaun away. Now, however… it was a different story. Soon Shaun would evolve into what fate had cursed him to become. When that happened, Rannon knew he’d do whatever it took to convince Shaun he was on his side, including telling him the truth about himself and swearing to Shaun that he’d never turn against him, no matter what their gene pools implied. All he wanted right now was to keep Shaun safe. 49

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He shook his head and paused to swipe the back of his coat sleeve across his forehead. What a mess this whole situation was. As much as he’d wanted to stay with Shaun at the church this afternoon and clear the suspicious look off Shaun’s face and remind him of their past, he couldn’t take a chance by lingering longer than he had. He’d needed to get back to his truck before someone found it and the body in it. If he’d been smart and thinking with his head instead of his damned emotions, he wouldn’t have approached Shaun after the funeral at all. He would have waited until a better time when he could really talk to him at length—that had been his original plan and he should have stuck to it. But as he’d stood watching him from up on the ridge, Shaun’s body language and the look on his face had been pure silent torment, and it had torn at Rannon’s heart. He’d just… Hell, he didn’t know exactly what he’d been thinking except that he wanted to offer Shaun comfort. So he’d gone to him, out of instinct, not even sure what he would say or how he’d explain his presence. As it turned out, that had been the least of his worries since Shaun hadn’t recognized him. Uneasiness stole over him as he recalled their conversation outside the church. Shaun had doubled over in pain, his breathing labored, his eyes glassy. The Change had clearly begun, yet Shaun had acted like he didn’t recognize it for what it was. At first Rannon had thought he’d simply been trying to hide the truth and pretend his ailment was something else. The reason for the Change wasn’t exactly the kind of thing you shared with folks, so he could understand Shaun wanting to cover it up. But there’d been something about Shaun’s behavior that went deeper than that, something that tripped an internal alarm in Rannon. And then he’d 50

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seen the genuine confusion in Shaun’s eyes, had smelled his fear, and like an unexpected blow, it had hit him… Shaun wasn’t pretending. He truly didn’t seem to know what was happening to him. Except, how the hell was that possible? How could he not recognize the Change? Surely Doyle had told him what to expect. And even if he hadn’t given him details, Shaun must have run into others of his kind over the years and someone had told him what it would feel like, what he’d experience. Unless… Damn, was it possible? What if Doyle had never told him any of it, had never told him what Doyle was, or what Shaun would become? But why wouldn’t Doyle have told Shaun the truth so he could be prepared and stay safe? Flashes of the past came to Rannon, and he remembered all too well that when he’d known Shaun before, Doyle had hardly been a model father. He’d almost never talked to Shaun… when he was even around. And when he was home he’d pretty much been stone drunk. Was it possible that he’d lost himself so deeply in the haze of alcoholic oblivion he’d neglected to share the most important revelation of Shaun’s life with him? The idea that Shaun might be completely innocent of what was happening to him and around him shook Rannon. If it were true, it complicated everything. And made Shaun even more vulnerable because he’d have no way of knowing he was in danger or why. Especially given what Rannon had discovered when he arrived in town this afternoon. Crap! He never should have left Shaun alone at the church. He was out there right now, unprotected. Rannon began to dig faster. 51

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The moment he’d stepped out of his truck today he’d realized that Dreamspell, Virginia had, at some point recently, been crawling with Fels. He’d never picked up the scent of so many in one place before. Feldaemons tended to hunt alone, or, on occasion, as a family unit—like his old man and uncle did. But this was something else all together. A large group, their scents crossing and recrossing all over town and out here in the woods. It made Rannon unsettled as hell. He didn’t know what had gone down, but it left little doubt in his mind as to what had really happened to Doyle McCarry. He’d overheard the priest telling Shaun they thought a bear had attacked Doyle, but Rannon knew better. An unprotected Mal like Doyle would stand little chance against a whole gang of feral hunters. What concerned him even further was when he’d found the battered Oldsmobile belonging to the Fel he was currently burying and those same scents lingered in and around it. Which meant this one was part of the same gang or at least had had contact with the gang. Rannon had discovered a large, torn, brown envelope in the vehicle that had Shaun’s name and address on it, which implied the Fel had gone specifically hunting for Shaun up in DC, then had followed him here. Rannon didn’t think it was a coincidence Shaun had decided to make a trip to Dreamspell. Had Doyle asked Shaun to come before he died, not realizing he was leading Shaun into a trap? Or had the Fels found a way to lure Shaun? Either way, none of it meant anything good. So hurry the hell up and get back to him! “I’m diggin’, I’m diggin’.” The sound of a branch popping in the woods stopped him cold, his shovel poised in midair. Frozen in place, Rannon’s senses went on immediate alert as he 52

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scanned the area around him. His heart pounded against his chest wall. Shit! He didn’t immediately smell anything threatening, but he suspected that standing as he was, up to his chest in the hole he was digging, the heavy scent of wet loamy soil overwhelmed the scents of anything else. Since he couldn’t one hundred percent rely on his sense of smell in the hole, his gaze roamed the woods around him. He turned in a slow circle, trying to keep his breathing steady and quiet, listening… watching… feeling the shimmer of his own inner beast tightly coiled inside him, ready to shift and spring if threatened. Another crack. He swung around in the direction from where it had come. For a split second he thought he caught a whiff of Fel. Faint. So elusive he wasn’t sure if it was real or imagined. But then he heard another noise, the sound of claws on bark, and at the same time as he finally picked up a solid scent, he spied the fuzzy brown body of a squirrel scrabbling up a nearby tree trunk. His lungs deflated and his shoulder sagged in relief. “Good God almighty,” he whispered, dragging in several deep breaths to calm down. Climbing out of the hole, he scanned the area again, to reassure himself that the squirrel was the only source of the noise, and found nothing else. He wondered about the scent of Fel he’d thought he’d picked up, but it had been so quick and faint, he finally decided his fear had conjured it. Now, out in the open, he sensed nothing nearby except the squirrel still racing along tree 53

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branches above him. After one more final turn around, he slid back into the hole and resumed his task. But this time he resolved to pay closer attention to what was going on around him. If he’d hadn’t been so fixated on digging and so lost in thought he would have known instantly what other creatures were nearby and wouldn’t have let something so simple catch him off guard. He knew better. He’d been on the run too long to let himself get careless now. “Keep your head in the game, James.” Like most young Fels, Rannon had been raised on hunting and a steady diet of venomous scorn toward Malaks. His family experienced downright euphoria at the thought of ridding the world of each and every Mal “leech.” It wasn’t just a sideline, or even a profession. It was an obsession, one that dominated every breath of most Fels, and Rannon’s family had been no different. The indoctrination began the moment a Fel child was born. Rannon had despised every second of it all and had always held back, always been the one hiding under the bed or in the garage or in the bushes behind the house so he didn’t have to see what his family did to the Mals they hunted because it made him sick. His mother had run off and deserted him to his father’s care the day after he was born, and he’d always wondered if maybe it was because she’d sensed, even then, that he was some kind of an abomination to their species. He’d been the oddity his kind had never been able to understand, and a constant source of embarrassment to his old man, which had only exacerbated, or maybe been the reason for, the abuse Rannon had endured for so long. He’d escaped as soon as he could, shortly after his eighteenth birthday. For the past ten—almost eleven—years now, he’d been 54

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drifting across the country and sometimes out of it, working odd jobs to get by, living off the grid as much as possible, and doing whatever he had to in order to stay invisible to his family, who were determined to track him down and force him to conform to their way of life. To them, if he wasn’t with them, he was a loose end that might cause trouble for them. Fels were a tight-knit, secretive group that didn’t tolerate deserters or traitors. All Rannon had ever craved was to be an ordinary human with an ordinary life. But in the end, his heritage had caught up to him. Five weeks ago he’d been flushed out of hiding and forced to take a stand. The problem was, he’d chosen to stand on the opposite side of the fight from how he’d been raised, which had made him an instant enemy to his own kind. He’d done the unthinkable, and if his pa and uncle caught up to him now, there’d be no negotiation—they’d kill him as swiftly and gleefully as the Malaks they hunted. The whole damn mess was everything Rannon hated… yet here he stood, sunk deep in the shit-storm in spite of his best efforts. With a tired sigh, he threw the shovel aside and climbed out of the muddy hole again. It was deep enough now for what he needed. He ached all over, and his shoulder and back throbbed from where the Fel had taken a chunk out of him during their violent fight earlier. Between that, the sheer exhaustion of having had little sleep for a couple of nights now, plus the peachy day he’d had, he pretty much felt like the ass-end of a polecat. And he was sure he smelled about that good, too. The scent of wet wool from his coat filled his nostrils, but underneath it he was sweaty, and he suspected the wound on his back still seeped blood. Before he found Shaun again he needed to make sure it was cleaned up and he put on clean clothes. He didn’t want to send 55

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Shaun into sensory overload by flaunting fresh blood around him when he was in the midst of the Change. God, I need to see him again. Need to touch him again. Both his chest and his groin tightened at the unexpected thought, and he wasn’t sure which hurt worse. But he refused to let himself go there right now. He had to finish sorting out this mess first. Grimacing, he approached his truck, opened the topper window and tailgate, and pulled back the tarp covering the lumpy form in the truck bed. The sickly aroma of death crept out, blotting out all the other scents. Nausea churned in his stomach as he stared at the powerful, fur-covered body, now silent and cold. It had died in its animal shape, but Rannon had to work fast because within a few hours after death it would change back into human form. The last damn thing he could afford was to have someone catch him burying a human body. “I can’t believe I’m doin’ this. Sweet Jesus.” He swiped his damp forehead against his coat sleeve once more, then paused to let his senses reach out again, smelling, listening, to be sure he was still alone. When he was sure he was, he half hefted, half dragged the body out of the truck, trying not to get the creature’s blood on him. It’s a little late for that, isn’t it? He winced. He hated killing, the whole idea of it made him ill and ate at his conscience, and yet… if it meant keeping Shaun safe, he knew he’d do it again if he had to. Which made him wonder, since he was so willing to take a life, if he was that different from his old man after all. He gritted his teeth. “I’m not anything like him. Not ever. And 56

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it’s not like I did it willingly. I didn’t have any choice.” This wasn’t the same thing as his old man, at all. Isn’t it? What about what happened in Oklahoma five weeks ago. Was that not the same either? “No, damn it, it wasn’t.” There was a big difference. Rannon found no pleasure in what he’d done then or now. He’d only taken drastic measures when there’d been no other way to keep an innocent person safe. Innocent person? You mean you kept Mals safe. And most would argue that the Mals are about as far from “innocent” as they come . Most Fels would argue that, yeah. But they were jaded and their beliefs twisted. Everything Rannon had learned from digging through history and legends said otherwise. Maybe the Malaks weren’t sinless, but they hadn’t asked to be the way they were. Unlike the Feldaemons, who’d willingly chosen the path of coldblooded butchery when they’d had a choice to do good instead. Rannon dumped the Fel’s body in the grave and stared down at it, hating that it had come to this. Then he began the arduous job of filling back in the dirt he’d just labored to remove. If he hadn’t finished off this Fel, it would have killed him and definitely would have gotten Shaun as well. If not at the church, where Rannon had caught it about to leap out of the trees and maul Shaun when he first arrived, then somewhere else; maybe it would have snuck up on him while he slept tonight. It had almost certainly killed before, especially if it had been involved in Doyle McCarry’s murder, and it would have killed again in the future because that’s what Fels did. The way Rannon saw it, he’d just saved not only Shaun’s life, but probably a lot of others as well. And if he’d also taken a little bit of vengeance for all those who’d 57

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died before, then so be it. So you’re making yourself judge and jury now? He winced again, not sure if he had the right to do that. He just knew he was sick of the running and hiding, of the hate and hunting. If someone didn’t stand up and fight back, it would never end. And he had pretty damn strong motivation for keeping someone in particular safe. Shaun. His chest tightened again and this time he didn’t even try to rein in his thoughts. From the moment he’d discovered Shaun had come to the attention of the Fels, Rannon had been able to think of nothing else but getting to Shaun to be sure he was alive, then doing everything in his power to keep him that way. Now, it seemed the situation had grown even more complex, with a whole group out hunting and Shaun obviously in their crosshairs. Rannon’s chest tightened. How the hell was he—one lone Fel who’d spent most of his life running from what he was—going to protect Shaun from so many threats? But then the memory of Shaun standing beside his father’s grave today, hurting and alone, filled his mind. And in that moment, Rannon knew he’d find a way. He’d do whatever it took because even though it had been years since he and Shaun had been together, a world without Shaun in it was something Rannon couldn’t even imagine. He couldn’t bear the thought that one day he might be the person standing next to Shaun’s grave. Rannon threw another shovelful of dirt into the grave, noticing that as dusk settled in, a light fog followed, swirling close to the ground. It sent a chill up his spine. Don’t freak out. He’ll be fine. You’ll be with him soon. 58

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In spite of his worry over Shaun’s safety, just thinking about being near Shaun again sent another jolt of need through Rannon. He remembered that moment of mind-blowing sexual tension between them in the church parking lot, where for a second he was certain Shaun was about to push him up against his SUV and fuck him senseless. It had been overwhelming, vivid even. Rannon had almost been able to see the whole thing unfold, with Shaun yanking at his clothes, delving into his jeans and closing a hand around Rannon’s dick. His mouth had crashed against Rannon’s, tasting of coffee and rain and smoldering desire as his hand had stripped his cock, played with his balls, and searched for the tight, clenching hole behind them so eager for attention. He’d licked and nipped and sucked at Rannon’s throat, the curve between his neck and shoulder, down his chest, his nipples, making him writhe against him. Then he suddenly yanked Rannon’s jeans down the rest of the way to his ankles, turned him, bent him forward, and sank into him, all the way to the balls. By the time Rannon had come back to himself and reality returned, his ass ached from the imagined onslaught, and his dick had been hard as a pole in his jeans. He didn’t know what had happened, but Shaun had been staring at him with a look on his face that said he’d been imagining something equally erotic. The intensity of it had stunned Rannon. Over all the years and all the distance, he’d never stopped thinking about Shaun. Had never forgotten their friendship. It had been a turning point in Rannon’s life—when he’d realized a scrawny abused kid like him, who’d always been made to feel worthless, could find power and self-confidence, and even love. The things he’d felt for Shaun back then, when he’d been barely fifteen and Shaun sixteen had pretty much rocked his world. Age 59

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and experience had taught him since that real life wasn’t anything like that first blush of young, dewy-eyed hero worship. But the truths he’d learned about himself during those months, and the knowledge that Shaun was and always would be his first love, had stuck with him over the years. Unfortunately, Shaun didn’t seem to feel the same way. A twinge of sadness hit Rannon. Shaun hadn’t even recognized him today. Who the hell are you are? he’d demanded, his voice filled with distrust. It had just about killed Rannon to realize the man he’d never been able to forget didn’t have a clue who he was. It’s been a long time. You’re not the same person you were back then, you’re not a kid anymore. You expected too much today. Maybe. Maybe “expected” wasn’t the right word. He’d just hoped. Still, even though Shaun hadn’t realized who he was, the heat between them had been crazy. Off the charts crazy. In the past their stolen kisses and intimate touching had been driven by teenage hormones and newly discovered feelings and sensations. But the thing today… there’d been nothing teenaged about it. Their connection at the cemetery had been raw, adult, barely restrained sexual desire that Rannon had felt in every breath and every pore. Shaun might not remember him, but something monumental still sparked between them. Rannon wasn’t sure whether that thrilled him or terrified him. Part of him was afraid Shaun’s desire wasn’t because he wanted Rannon, just that he wanted in general. Rannon knew the Change altered a Mal’s physiology and made them… well, more sensual, both in what they felt and in what they made others feel. All in the interest of getting them the precious substance they required to survive. Rannon hated the thought that Shaun might be more driven by Mal lust and craving than by a desire to be with 60

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him because he meant something to him. He doesn’t even remember you—clearly “because you mean something to him” isn’t part of the equation right now. Okay, that stung. But still… he’d given his heart to Shaun once before, then lost him. He didn’t know if he could go through that again. “Get your head out of your ass, James,” he chided. “You’re here to keep Shaun safe, regardless of his feelings about you or yours about him.” Shaun’s safety had to be his focus right now. Not trying to recapture the lost dreams of his own youth with a man who didn’t even remember him. He couldn’t let it get messy. But as he threw the last shovelful of earth atop the grave and patted it down, a soft huff of soul-aching laughter escaped him. Yeah, it sounded so simple to say that—don’t let it get messy. Unfortunately, the moment he’d laid eyes on Shaun McCarry again… it already had.

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CHAPTER 4 After leaving the Grommets’ store and climbing along the twisty, rutted dirt roads through thick woods, Shaun pulled into a small clearing tucked into a hollow between two ridges. And in the middle of the clearing sat a cabin. The fog had lightened a bit up here, and it wasn’t yet fully dark, so he could make out the house pretty well. But it wasn’t the covered porch, or the surprising sturdiness of the little log structure that caught his gaze and held it. It was the sheriff’s car parked in front of it. Oh, fuck. What now? He slowly climbed out of his SUV, but kept the door open. For what? Are you guilty of something that you might have to spring back behind the wheel and run from the law? He rolled his eyes at 62

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his behavior. More of Doyle’s paranoia rubbing off on him, no doubt. The driver’s door of the sheriff’s car opened as well, and a tall, angular woman in her early-to-mid forties and dressed in a tan uniform slid out. She settled a hat over her straight brown hair pulled into a no-nonsense ponytail, adjusted her gun belt, and approached. “Shaun McCarry?” “Yes.” Jeez, did everyone here know who he was? “You’re Doyle McCarry’s son?” “Yes.” She held out a hand and, when he took it, gave his hand a business-like shake. “I’m Caroline Dixon, the county sheriff. How you doin’ this evening?” “I’m okay.” “Good. Sorry about your father.” Shaun nodded, hating this. Why did people say that shit when they didn’t even know him? “As I understand from Father McKenzie, you just got into town this afternoon?” Her speech, while still tinged with an undertone of the local mountain dialect, was measured and more precise. As if she’d gone to school somewhere else and almost lost the accent, then come back here to live. “That’s right.” His stomach was beginning to seize again— clearly the crackers he’d had on the way here hadn’t helped. “If you don’t mind my asking, where’d you come in from?” She sounded pleasant and “chatty” enough, but Shaun knew the question wasn’t optional. “Washington DC That’s where I live. I drove down.” “Father McKenzie says he was unaware Mr. McCarry, your 63

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father, had any living family. How did you hear about his funeral?” Fuck, here we go again. “I didn’t know about it. My father recently sent me a letter, so I came down to see him. I didn’t find out he’d died until after I was here. My father and I weren’t close—I hadn’t seen him in a long time.” Might as well get the info out up front. “Where were you five days ago ?” Jeez, what was this? “I was in Nepal.” The sheriff’s eyebrows shot up under her hat. “I’m a freelance writer,” he explained. “I write features for several major magazines. I’ve been in Nepal for the past month, doing research for a piece for National Geographic. I just got back in the States last night.” “Mmm. I’m assuming you can provide your passport and other documentation to verify this?” “Of course.” Shaun shook his head. “Is there a problem?” “Just trying to cover all the bases,” she said. “Father McKenzie said he thought you’d be headed up here to your father’s place, so I wanted to stop by and apprise you of the investigation into your father’s death.” “There’s an investigation?” “There is. Anytime we have a suspicious death we’re obligated to look into it.” “But I thought he was killed by a bear.” “Well now, that was the assumption when he was first found by hikers, yes. We do see quite a few black bear around here in the mountains, and they come out of their dens hungry in the spring, which occasionally leads to aggressive encounters with humans. There were some bear tracks and tree scratches recently seen on a hiking trail a mile or so away from where your father was found. 64

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But after closely studying the wounds on your father’s body, the coroner felt they were more consistent with damage inflicted by a feline.” “A cat?” “Mmm.” She nodded. “The coroner thought possibly a mountain lion, though it wasn’t conclusive. There were some anomalies that didn’t quite jive. The fact is, though, the attack happened a couple of days before your father’s body was found, and the damage was… severe.” Shaun winced and the deputy gave him a sympathetic look, but it didn’t stop her from continuing. “Unfortunately, there were no clear tracks that we could use to confirm what type of animal got him.” “Are there even mountain lions around here? I thought they were mostly in the western US.” “For the most part, yes. But there are occasional sightings of them east of the Mississippi.” Shaun nodded, trying not to think about Doyle lying in the forest severely torn up by a wild creature. “I’d like to be able to tell you that consoling you about the animal attack is the only reason I’m here, but while it was horrific, it isn’t all that’s involved.” Though she’d mostly kept a poker face through the entire conversation, now the sheriff looked genuinely sorry she had to continue. “What do you mean?” “There’s the matter of the stolen guns.” Shaun’s pulse began to race. “What guns?” “Six days ago, a farmer who has a place up on Seely’s Ridge about, oh, maybe seven or eight miles from here as the crow files, was robbed during the night. The farmer woke up when he heard someone prowling around his bedroom, but before he could act, 65

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the thief knocked him out. When he came to, he was tied to the bed, and three of his guns, which he kept in his bedroom, had been stolen—all handguns.” “What does this have to do with the animal attack on Doy— my father?” “The farmer claims the thief was in a panic, not fully in his right mind. He shouted at the farmer before he knocked him unconscious. The thief said… ” She pulled a small spiral notebook out of her shirt pocket, flipped it open, and read: “They’re coming!’ I can’t let ’em get me!” Her gaze lifted and settled back on Shaun’s face, alert and probing. “Does that mean anything to you, Mr. McCarry?” “Nothing. Should it?” “The farmer also claims the man who hit him had scarred hands and a scarred face, which fits the description of your dad given me by Father McKenzie.” Oh, crap. So maybe Doyle hadn’t gotten his shit together after all. “Your father had two of the weapons on him when he was found. One of them had been recently fired—two rounds were missing. But we found no slugs.” “Maybe he shot the animal that was attacking him,” Shaun said, trying to picture the scene. “If he did, then the animal probably ran away with the bullets still in it.” “Yes,” she said slowly. “That would seem logical. Except there’s one problem… we also found blood at the scene. Not animal blood, human blood. And it wasn’t a match with your father’s.” Shaun’s stomach did a somersault. Had Doyle shot another person? His father could be quietly delusional, and paranoid, no 66

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doubt. But Shaun would never have imagined Doyle had it in him to actually pull the trigger of a gun while it was aimed at someone. What the fuck went on here, Doyle? A new wave of agony built in Shaun’s gut, burning like a mother effer. He gritted his teeth against it, determined not to let on to the sheriff that anything was wrong. As sharp-eyed as she was, she might take him doubling over in pain as a sign he was guilty of something, which would be ridiculous, and yet… “I don’t… I don’t know what to say,” he murmured. “Except what I already told you—that we hadn’t seen each other in years. But when I was growing up, he was never prone to any kind of physical violence. I could see him protecting himself from an animal, but a person… ” He left the last statement hanging because he truly didn’t know what to say. Shaun was a pacifist at heart and couldn’t imagine ever pulling the trigger on another human being. But if he felt he was in mortal danger and it was kill or be killed? There was no predicting what instinct might drive a person to do to save himself. He thought of the letter and almost told the sheriff about Doyle’s warning to him to run, but something held him back. Why? Do you think you can’t trust her? Or do you just not want to make Doyle look even crazier than he already does? He couldn’t answer those questions, he only knew something niggling in his mind told him to not volunteer the information. If she asked, then he’d be honest. But if she didn’t… “I hate to disturb you because I’m sure this has all been a shock to you—to arrive here today and find your father passed on—but I’m wondering if you’d mind if I take a look in your father’s cabin?” Shaun swallowed hard. He could barely pull in full breaths of 67

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air now because of the pain, and just wanted her to go away so he could be alone and curl into a ball. But instead he nodded. “Sure. I… I haven’t even been inside yet. I have no idea what it’s like.” “That’s fine. I’ll be as quick as I can.” She motioned for him to precede her, so he led the way up the few steps onto the porch, and to the solid wood door of the cabin. He scrounged in his jacket pocket for the key the priest had given him. His hands, he wasn’t pleased to find, were trembling as he stabbed the key in the lock and turned it. He just hoped Sheriff Dixon wasn’t noticing. So what if she does? It’s not like you’re guilty of anything. He turned the knob, pushed the door inward, and stepped inside. The sheriff followed, then slipped past him. “Why don’t you wait here in the doorway,” she said. Shaun nodded. He noticed she had unsnapped the leather strap over her gun and had her hand resting on the weapon. A jolt of tension shot through him. Did she think somebody might be in here? But when she reached for the wall switch and turned on the lights, Shaun saw at a glance that the two of them were the only people present. Inexplicable relief filled him. He’d had about all the lurking stranger, wild-animals-ready-to-pounce angst he could take for one day. Light from the overhead light fixture and ceiling fan revealed that the small cabin was, for the most part, nothing but one large central room. A double bed, dresser, old-fashioned cedar chest, some bookshelves, and a desk with an old bulky computer monitor on it took up one end of the big room. A worn plaid couch and television sat in the center of the room. And a kitchenette with older appliances and a small two-seater wood table next to a 68

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window made up the remainder of the space. A door to the left led into the bathroom. And a small mudroom/laundry room/foyer in the rear held a stacking washer and dryer and, presumably, led to the back door. What shocked Shaun was how clean and organized it all was. The kitchen practically sparkled, if that were possible on such a gloomy evening, the bed looked crisp and freshly made, with a brightly colored quilt spread atop it. The hardwood floor was worn, but clean and polished, with throw rugs in the kitchen, under the couch, and next to the bed. The place even smelled clean, with the scent of lemon oil and laundry detergent. He’d expected… well, he didn’t know what. More of a messy, run-down, piles-of-crapeverywhere, empty-booze-bottles-sitting-around, inhabited-by-aman-who-didn’t-give-a-damn house. That’s how things had always been when he was growing up whenever they stayed someplace more than a few weeks. If any cleaning and straightening had happened, he’d been the one to do it, not Doyle. The sheriff systematically made her way around the great room, opening kitchen cupboards, studying the bookshelves, peering under the bed and into the dresser and small open closet with a flashlight. “Are you looking for something in particular,” Shaun asked, clutching the doorframe for support. She hoisted herself to her feet after kneeling next to the bed. “We haven’t yet found the third stolen weapon,” she said in her steady, unruffled speech. “And you think he might have brought it here?” “Prob’ly not. He was found not too far from the farmer’s house, miles from here. Which means he most likely had whatever encounter he had shortly after he left the farmer’s. That would 69

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agree with the time of death the coroner determined. But we just want to be sure.” Shaun got the feeling she was looking for something else as well. Probably something that might give her a hint as to who the other human blood might belong to. But he didn’t have a clue what that something might be, and maybe she didn’t either. As he waited for her to finish, he leaned against the door and closed his eyes, trying to sort out the havoc going on inside his body that was making him feel so wretched. He tried to think back to when his physical discomfort had first started. He’d felt a bit strange for probably the past few days—nothing specific, just off, a little achy, his heart rate faster than usual even when he hadn’t been exerting himself… like maybe he was coming down with something. But it wasn’t until he was coming home from Nepal, on the flights between Kathmandu and Washington, DC, that he’d noticed a distinct gnawing in his gut, like sharp hunger pains except not. And then this morning, on the drive down here, it had begun to burn, like he had too much stomach acid—which, after the triple espresso he’d gotten at Starbucks before he left the Beltway, and the two, or maybe it was three, large coffees he’d picked up during the drive, it was no wonder. He’d known jet lag was going to set in and had wanted to be sure he didn’t have any trouble staying awake during the drive. Except now it had been hours since his last caffeine fix and he was feeling worse, not better. His heart pounded again, his hands still shook, his mouth was dry and felt funny, and his skin felt funny, too, like he might scream if someone breathed on him too hard. His senses were… well, too sensitive. And the pain in his gut was unlike anything he ever remembered experiencing—as if shards of glass were tearing through his stomach lining. 70

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Fuck! He grimaced and forced himself to breath slowly and deeply. Yeah… like that. Slow and Deep. He could hear the stranger’s voice in his head, as clearly as he had at the church, with the slow, soft, gritty drawl that had turned Shaun on. He didn’t feel turned on at all now, though. Just miserable. And yet, the thought of how the man had looked at him with such intensity… like he was dying of thirst and Shaun was the only oasis in the desert. And the way Shaun had reacted to the man’s presence, as well, with such overwhelming, pulse pounding desire and a strange sense of comforting familiarity all at the same time—before things had gotten freaky at the end. The man had implied they did know each other, except Shaun couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out from where. On the drive up to the cabin he’d wracked his brain, trying to place the man from some recent encounter in his life… but no sexy-voiced, outdoorsylooking, twenty-something hunks came up in his memory banks. He couldn’t even picture having a hook-up with someone like that. Not that he had a lot of one-night stands, but over the past few years, from time to time, when he was particularly lonely and tired of taking care of his own needs, he’d been known to pick up someone at a club. He could count those men on one hand, however, and none of them had been the stranger. What kept popping into his head, though, for some bizarre reason, was the snow leopard that had followed the group Shaun was in when he was trekking in Nepal. It had stayed with them for almost the whole trip, which was highly unusual their Sherpa guide had said. Snow leopards were rare, only a few thousand of them left in the wild, and they usually avoided humans. Clearly this particular one had found the humans intriguing. Shaun had found it 71

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intriguing as well… beautiful, graceful, powerful, but it had also seemed lonely. It was probably just him trying to anthropomorphize it since snow leopards were known to be solitary creatures, yet the thought had stuck with him and he hadn’t been able to shake it. It had almost felt like the leopard wished it could be with them rather than at a distance. It was an odd comparison to think of now, but the stranger reminded him a little of that leopard, the way he’d been standing up on the ridge overlooking the cemetery, isolated and watching from afar. And then, oddly, he’d thought of the leopard again when the man had left Shaun in the parking lot and run off into the woods with such compelling power and grace. Who was the guy? When he’d left the cemetery, not only had he said he’d find Shaun, he’d also said it was going to get worse before it got better. What had he meant by that? The only thing Shaun could figure was that the stranger had thought Shaun really was breaking down from grief, and meant the sadness would get worse before it got better. At the time Shaun would have argued with him, but now he was beginning to wonder if maybe Doyle’s death was bothering him more than he was willing to admit. But the stranger had also said something else… Watch your back, Shaun. Watch his back? Doyle’s letter had said basically the same thing. Damn it! Why hadn’t he forced the man to at least tell him his name before he disappeared? And why, even now, could he not get the man out of his mind? But the thing that really confused him was how chaotic his thoughts about the man were—one minute suspicious, the next remembering his sizzling gaze and that gritty, 72

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hot-sex voice. The sound of the sheriff’s footsteps on the hardwood pulled him out of his half-stupor. He blinked open his eyes and watched as she gave one last look around, then turned toward him. “That’s all I need here,” she said, slipping her flashlight back through a loop on her belt. “I appreciate your cooperation.” “No problem.” It came out almost as a gasp, as Shaun fought to keep the pain off his face. The sharp-eyed sheriff picked right up on it in spite of his best efforts to hide it. “You all right, Mr. McCarry?” “Shaun,” he huffed out. “Just… Shaun. And, yeah. Caught a bug I think.” The crow’s feet around her eyes crinkled. “Sorry to hear that. You said you just came back from overseas. Maybe you picked up something in the water or the food.” “Yeah, maybe.” God, please go. Please just go. He was starting to feel antsy again in addition to the pain, like he was going to jump out of his skin—maybe jump at her. “Well, Shaun”—she reached into her shirt pocket and this time withdrew a business card, which she held out to him—“if you see anything out of the ordinary or find anything suspicious, or even just think of anything that might help with the investigation, I’d appreciate you giving my office a call.” He took the card and nodded, having trouble forming words. “And is there a way I can reach you, in case I have any more questions?” “Sure,” he whispered. He pulled out his wallet, every movement a torment, and fished out one of his own business cards for her. “It has my cell number on it.” “Will you be in the area for a while?” 73

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“I… don’t know. I’ll have to make arrangements for my father’s things, so it could be a couple of days.” “Mmm. Well, then.” She offered him another concerned and sympathetic look and gave his bicep a squeeze. “You take care of yourself, Shaun. You’ve been through a lot today.” Why did everyone keep saying that? You’re going through a lot. You’ve been through a lot. “You know, you might want to let Doc Eastwick check you over. He keeps office hours at his clinic on the main road between Dreamspell and Shady Hollow. It’s prob’ly too late to get in to see him this evening, but he does house calls in emergencies.” “I’m… I’m sure I’ll be okay. Just need some rest.” Please, for fuck sake, go! “All right then. If you need him, though, here’s his information.” She pulled out her spiral notebook again, along with a pen, and wrote something. The scritch of her pen on the paper set Shaun’s nerve endings on edge and almost made him crazy. God, just leave! She tore off the page and set it on the kitchen table. “Just in case. Again, his clinic’s not too far.” Then she gave him another pointed look that was part sympathy and part something else he couldn’t label. He barely managed a nod, and wondered if he looked as awful as he felt. Probably, given the way Sheriff Dixon was peering at him. “You take care now.” She gave him a nod and left. He watched her cross the porch, go through the screen, and get in her vehicle. It wasn’t until she backed away from the cabin, turned her car, and he saw her taillights heading into the darkening night that he breathed a sigh of relief. Finally! 74

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No sooner than that thought had formed, though, and before he could even close the cabin’s door, the searing pain in his gut flared into an unbearable agony, his pounding head gave a particularly brutal throb, and the room began to waver around him. The last thing he remembered was his body slamming against the hardwood floor, a sharp burst of pain… then everything went black.

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CHAPTER 5 In his truck on the road headed deeper into the mountains, nervous anticipation built in Rannon. He’d overheard the priest saying where Doyle lived, and in just a few minutes he’d be with Shaun. Although what he was going to say to explain his quick escape at the church without telling Shaun what he’d actually been doing for the past hour eluded him. Thinking fast on his feet, however, was a skill Rannon had learned well over the years of living with his old man, so he’d come up with something, probably on the spur of the moment. You can think fast all you want, come up with as many stories as you want, but you can’t avoid the truth for too long. You’re gonna have to tell Shaun everything, and soon. Especially if he really doesn’t know what’s going on or the danger he’s in. Lies’ll 76

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only sink you farther into the crapper and make it that much harder to crawl out and come clean. He sighed. “Damn it, I know. I know.” As he approached the turn-off that led up to the cabin, a sheriff’s vehicle drove toward him from the opposite direction and turned onto the narrow dirt lane before Rannon got there. It created a jolt of panic in him and caused the knot of guilt in his chest to flare up again. Given his recent less-than-legal activities, the last thing he wanted was to be anywhere near local law enforcement. He knew he’d had no choice but to take out the Fel in the woods, but regular humans, unaware of the supernatural creatures that roamed the Earth—some that were far more dark and dangerous than human criminals—would only be able to see that Rannon had taken what they perceived to be a human life. Though the body in the grave might very well have turned human in appearance at this point, Rannon knew better than anyone that it was anything but. Reacting on instinct, he drove past without turning, not wanting whoever was in the car to see him or know where he was going. “Great, now what?” But almost before the words left his mouth he’d already spotted a pull-off alongside the road, half-hidden by low-hanging tree branches. He veered into it and discovered it led a few yards into even deeper woods that offered excellent concealment from the road. He’d noticed this whole area wasn’t very populated, and he couldn’t imagine too many people living down the little back road where the sheriff’s car had turned. Which left him with a sneaking suspicion the sheriff’s destination was Doyle’s cabin. Rannon wanted to know why, and wanted to be sure Shaun was safe. For all he knew, a Fel could be masquerading as a deputy in order to 77

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get to Shaun. Or be out looking for his now-buried Fel buddy. Or maybe it’s perfectly innocent. Maybe. But Rannon hadn’t avoided trouble and attention most of his adult life by not being cautious. And since driving up to the cabin wasn’t an option at the moment, he climbed out of his truck, stripped off his clothes, leaving them and his boots on the truck’s seat, and shifted. In his Fel body he could be far stealthier than he could as a human, and he could find out what the sheriff’s department was up to. Rather than follow the vehicle up the road, he cut through the woods directly uphill, padding over the damp earth at a fast lope. It was starting to get dark, but in feline form, his night vision was far better than his vision as a human, so the dense trees and undergrowth did little to slow him. The pungent scents of new spring growth overlaying the musty decay of winter filled his sensitive nostrils. But the scent he wanted, searched for—that of Shaun’s clean musk and earthy allure, which had been imprinted on his senses at the church as they stood so close together— remained elusive. Which bothered him. If Shaun was at the cabin, Rannon should be able to pick up at least a faint hint of him in the air long before the cabin came into sight. He found the cabin sitting in a small clearing, and sure enough, the silver and black sheriff’s cruiser sat in front of it. Rannon arrived just in time to see Shaun’s SUV pull in and park. Shaun was just now getting here? That explained the lack of his scent, but Rannon wondered where he’d been while Rannon had been in the woods digging. His heart rate sped up when he saw Shaun get out of the Toyota. He looked exhausted, unhappy, and more than a little 78

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peeved to find the law waiting for him. And yet, he was still so damned sexy it stole Rannon’s breath. Rannon prowled behind Shaun and the woman, unseen, his movements silent over the wet ground, barely rustling the dripping greenery as he passed. As he paced, he listened in on their conversation. The sheriff—and it was the sheriff herself, not a deputy—confirmed what he’d already suspected, that Doyle had been killed by a Fel. He didn’t like the fact one or more of the Fels had been shot and gotten away—it would just fan the flames of their anger and make them that much more vicious to deal with. Which was of direct concern to him given he’d just killed one of their own. He suspected neither he nor Shaun had seen the last of the group. He hoped the Fel he’d had to take down was the only one who’d known where Shaun lived—Rannon had swiped the envelope with Shaun’s address to prevent any other Fels from finding it, and also to keep Shaun’s name from coming up if the abandoned vehicle was found by local law enforcement. But he had a feeling, given the gang nature of the Feldaemons in this area, that the Fel who’d been hunting Shaun today had merely been a flunky sent by someone higher up the food chain. After Shaun and the sheriff disappeared into the house, Rannon made a pass around the cabin to be sure there’d been no recent Fel activity. He didn’t pick up any scents, but it had rained heavily all day, which would have obliterated any that might have been there. He hated not being sure if the Fels were aware of this cabin and if Shaun was safe here. With all his protective urges on overdrive, his first instinct was to mark a perimeter around the cabin, claiming the area as his to warn off any other Fels who might be looking for Shaun. He 79

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thought maybe they’d assume a Mal wouldn’t be hiding in the middle of an established Fel territory. But then common sense returned and he decided such a blatant display might only draw the hunters here faster. Especially if they discovered his scent in the woods by the cemetery where he’d fought with the other Fel. The rain may not have totally washed away the evidence there since it had tapered off to only a drizzle soon afterward. Feldaemons had an inherent ability to smell others of their kind. Oddly, they couldn’t sniff out Mals, though. If they knew someone was a Mal they could follow that person’s unique human scent, but unless they were feeding, which gave off the obvious scent of blood, Mals had no particular scent that said “Mal here, come and get me.” Maybe it was a built-in defense mechanism for them. Fels on the other hand, especially in animal form, were easily identifiable to one another. Rannon had already taken a risk, shifting and coming to the cabin in Fel form. He hoped it would rain again soon, enough to disperse the scent of his passing, but if he formally marked territory, it would be a stronger scent and less likely to fade in the bad weather. For Shaun’s sake, he needed to stay invisible to his own kind as best he could. It might already be too late for that, but he had to hope. As he roamed, Rannon kept watch on Shaun and the woman through the big window at the front of the cabin. The sheriff was clearly searching the house. After what felt like forever, when it looked like the sheriff was finally wrapping up, Rannon headed back down the hill to his truck to wait for her to leave. Crouched in the cover of the trees, Rannon watched her car approach, stop at the intersection, then turn toward town. As the taillights disappeared around a curve in the distance and 80

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he was certain she was gone and not coming back, he dressed, slid behind the wheel of his truck, cranked the engine, and eased out onto the road. As he pulled up to the cabin and got out of the truck, his skin tingled and his senses went on alert. Something wasn’t right. He sniffed the air, fearing the worst, but everything was just as he’d left it a while ago. Yet something still made the hair on the back of his neck prickle. Rannon’s gaze slid across the clearing, the cabin, Shaun’s black FJ Cruiser parked nearby. He saw and heard no specific threat, but suddenly realized Shaun’s scent had changed while he’d been gone. It was murkier, darker, and filled with pain. Then he saw the front door of the cabin standing open. A long streak of light shone from it, stretching across the porch and out into the night. When he recognized the dark bulky shape lying on the floor in the opening, dread shot through him like a spike to the heart. No! He sprinted to the cabin, took the steps two at a time, and entered the house. Shaun lay half on his back, half on his side, his eyes closed. Rannon’s chest tightened in fear as he knelt next to him. “Shaun!” He gently shook him, but got no response. “Shaun… Shaun!” He felt for a pulse, and wanted to be relieved when he found it, except that Shaun’s heart raced way too fast. His skin felt dry as parchment, and his breathing was quick and ragged like his heartbeat. Not good. 81

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Had the sheriff done something to Shaun during those few minutes Rannon had left them alone together? He couldn’t think of a logical reason why she would hurt him, but she’d been the last person with him. As he got a grip on his emotions and focused, though, he founds no obvious signs of foul play. Putting together the pieces of the puzzle before him, Rannon realized the threat to Shaun probably hadn’t come from without, but from within. Shaun had been in really rough shape at the church this afternoon, rougher than Rannon had expected him to be even. The most likely scenario was that shortly after the sheriff had gone, Shaun had passed out from the Change ravaging his body. Damn it… I should have been here for him! His first instinct was to call 9-1-1. He scanned the cabin, saw a phone on the kitchen counter, and started toward it. But then reality hit; he couldn’t call for help because it would lead to questions Rannon didn’t dare answer, and medical exams for which results couldn’t be explained. Shaun would end up in a hospital with frenzied doctors studying him. They’d all be in danger because nothing they could do would stop the changes taking place in his body, and when the transformation was nearly complete the craving would be at its most intense and Shaun would need to feed. There’d be no hiding it, no hiding what Shaun was. Ultimately the result would be disastrous. There was no way he could call in the cavalry on this one. He was on his own. Shit. Shit! He forced himself to take a deep breath. What did you do for someone who was unconscious? Call 9-1-1. He groaned and reached for Shaun’s hand. It was icy cold. 82

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Okay, so the first thing he had to do was get Shaun off the floor, out of his wet clothes, and make sure he was warm and dry. The question was, was it safe to move him? Weren’t you supposed to leave an unconscious person where they were in case they had a neck or spine injury? Shaun resolved that concern for Rannon when he moaned and rolled fully onto his back. Rannon decided that if he could move himself, then it was safe enough to get him off the floor. He felt Shaun’s pulse again, still spiking rapidly, and smoothed a hand over his too pale cheek. Emotion welled in Rannon’s chest. “Damn it, Shaun. I’m not going to let you go again that easily.” He took off his own coat and threw it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. Then he closed the front door and locked it, and drew the heavy curtains over the big front window and the others in the cabin as well. He didn’t want to make it easier than it had to be for any wandering Fels to stumble across them. He slid his arms under and around Shaun. Shaun’s eyes fluttered opened, briefly. “You,” he whispered as he looked up at Rannon. Confusion swirled with the pain in the blue depths. Rannon’s heart squeezed. “It’s gonna be okay.” But before Shaun could respond, his eyes closed and Rannon knew he was out again. With a grunt and a stagger, Rannon hefted him up. His tired, aching body protested, but he didn’t give under the strain. Although Shaun was taller than he was, and outweighed him, Rannon was no longer the skinny runt he’d been as a kid. He’d been a late bloomer—both as a human and a Fel—and had hated every second of it. Especially since his old man had taken particular delight in taunting him over his deficiencies. But in his 83

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late teens, around the same time he’d finally been able to shift into his Fel form and hold it, he’d also gained several inches in height and filled out. And over the past ten years, maturity and numerous jobs working construction and doing other physical labor had given him the strength he’d longed for so badly as a scrawny teen. He managed to get Shaun to the bed in a few strides. Once there, he took off Shaun’s soaked coat and shirt, then his shoes and socks, and finally peeled off his wet jeans, leaving Shaun clad in only a form-fitting pair of navy boxer briefs. Rannon appreciated the view—shit, how could he not?—but was too damned worried to linger more than a couple of seconds over the sight. When Shaun moaned again, it only fed Rannon’s urgency. He pulled up the covers, which gave off the faint but pleasant aroma of fresh linen, as if they’d just been washed. Gently, he felt Shaun’s forehead under his damp hair. But where Shaun’s hands had been cold, his forehead was hot. Way too hot. Damn it. Was this normal for a Mal going through the Change, or was he also getting sick? Or had he injured himself worse than Rannon had realized when he’d fallen? Had he hit his head and maybe had a concussion? Or was there something else wrong with him altogether? Fear gripped him as he stroked Shaun’s scruff-darkened cheek. “You’re scarin’ the crap out of me here. I don’t know what to do, Shaun.” Shaun shifted restlessly again, and another soft moan escaped him, but his eyes stayed closed. Needing to be doing something, Rannon went to the kitchen, where he filled a bowl with cool water, then found a washcloth on a stack in the bathroom. He set the bowl on the dresser next to the 84

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bed and sat back down. He dipped the washcloth in the water, wrung it out, and stroked it over Shaun’s forehead and cheeks, hoping it might cool Shaun down. When the cloth grew warm, he dipped it again and started over. As he did, he worried that maybe he should go ahead and call 9-1-1. What if this is more serious than just the Change? What if he’s truly injured and his life is in danger and I’m just sitting here letting it happen? Rannon gently pushed up Shaun’s upper lip on one side, then the other. His gums, just above his incisors, were swollen, where his fangs would soon let down as the urge to feed consumed him. No, there was no way Shaun could be seen by the regular medical community right now. You have to take care of this. You have to take care of him and make this right. You should never have left him alone this afternoon. Rannon took a deep breath and wrung out the washcloth again. He placed it on Shaun’s forehead, then picked up one of Shaun’s hands. He knew Shaun was a writer now—a person only had to do an Internet search on his name, and hits for his website and articles would come up. But Shaun’s hands weren’t those of someone who did nothing more than type on a computer. They were strong and tanned, and bore calluses that attested to a life of physical activity. Rannon suspected it was from the outdoor adventuring he did and wrote about. Like the trek across Nepal he’d just returned from. Yet in spite of their rugged appearance, he also knew how gentle Shaun’s hands could be, driven by the gentle soul inside him. Even as a teenager, when Shaun had been outwardly full of daring rebellion, he’d still always had a soft 85

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heart. It was one of the things that had drawn Rannon to him from the start. Rannon cooled the cloth again and replaced it. “Do you remember that summer when we first met?” he said, not sure if Shaun heard him or not, but needing to break the painful silence. “Brill, Texas. God, what an armpit it was. Probably still is.” Although, Rannon had to wonder if the tiny west central Texas town was really that bad or if it had just seemed particularly awful because he’d hated his life there. “I hated growin’ up in that place, but then you moved to town and everything changed. For a while at least.” Memories came back to him like a tide rushing in. “’Member how we used to sneak Cokes from the soda shop ’cause that old geezer who ran it, Mr. Longbottom—except we used to call him Fatbottom—always forgot to lock the back door? It was hot as hell that summer, and those Cokes on ice were like heaven goin’ down. And somehow, they tasted even better ’cause we were in the shop after hours, illegally, when we oughta have been home. Not that anyone gave much of a damn where we were most of the time.” After removing the washcloth from Shaun’s forehead again, this time he let it slide into the bowl and stay there since the water had warmed to room temperature. He stroked his palm against Shaun’s cheek. “Come on, give me a sign here, man. I need you to wake up… ” His voice caught. “This is all stuff we should be talkin’ about together, reminiscing about old times. We had some pretty good adventures, back in the day.” Rannon huffed out a quiet, unexpected laugh. “Okay, that’s an understatement—we were hellions, pure and simple. You had the gumption to try stuff I’d’ve been too scared to do on my own. But 86

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together, that was different. You always made me feel a little invincible, I think. Like climbin’ the water tower, throwin’ rocks at the cop cars, stealin’ strawberries outta John Dagby’s field even though he sicced his rottweilers on us more than once. We were lucky we didn’t end up in juvie. Or, hell, dead after some of the things we tried.” It wasn’t an exaggeration. They’d run wild that summer, high on life and their unshakeable friendship. It was the only time Rannon had ever truly felt free, at least for a little while, until he’d had to slink home each night and hope his pa wasn’t home or was already asleep and wouldn’t notice him coming in. “Probably one of the stupidest stunts we ever pulled was when we got on top of that old tin-roof cow barn that time. Remember that? We dared each other to get some burlap sacks and use ’em to slide off the roof onto the haystack.” Rannon shook his head. “Shit, it’s a wonder we didn’t kill ourselves. The eave of that roof had to be thirty feet off the ground.” He stared at Shaun’s hand again, absently caressing it, lost in the old memory. “I never told you because I didn’t want you to think I was a wimp, but sliding off that barn was how I broke my wrist. I tried to hide it from you, but then it started to get swollen and I knew somethin’ was really wrong. So I made some excuse to you—I don’t even remember now what—and went home. “My old man was pissed ’cause he had to take me to the emergency room that night to have it set and put in a cast. He knew they’d think he did it, and sure enough, they had social services question him. After we got home, he beat the shit out of me with his belt for bringin’ attention down on him. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was that he didn’t ground me or lock me in my room like he sometimes did, and I was free to see you the next day.” 87

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He paused, the memory making him smile. Seeing Shaun was all he ever cared about back then. “I remember.” The raspy whisper sent a jolt of shock through Rannon. His gaze went to Shaun’s face, to find Shaun’s eyes open and focused on him.

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CHAPTER 6 “Yeah?” Rannon asked, his heart pounding, searching Shaun’s face, hoping he hadn’t just imagined what Shaun had said. “You said you fell off your skateboard, but I figured out the truth the moment you told me that lame-ass story.” Shaun’s voice was low, still almost a whisper, as if his throat were dry. But his gaze, filled with some unnamed emotion that made Rannon’s breath catch, never left Rannon’s. Relief spread through Rannon, and inexplicable joy. He let himself wallow for a second in the pleasure of knowing Shaun hadn’t forgotten him after all. “You thought it was lame?” “You hated your skateboard. You never got on it.” Another smile twitched at Rannon’s lips. “I guess it was a pretty pathetic excuse.” 89

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“The worst.” Shaun’s eyes glistened with what looked like humor, but then his face grew serious. “I knew your pa beat you that night, too,” he said softly. “Why do you think I gave you my Led Zeppelin T-shirt that you always liked so much? I thought it might make you feel better after everything.” Rannon’s smiled faded into a hot swallow that turned into a lump in his throat. “I wore that thing until it fell apart,” he murmured. And not because it was Zeppelin, but because it had been Shaun’s and, somehow, wearing it had made him feel like everything in his life might somehow be okay. Even after Shaun had gone. “I felt bad, responsible,” Shaun said. “If I hadn’t talked you into getting on that barn roof none of it would have happened— you wouldn’t have been hurt, and your pa wouldn’t have had a reason to wail on you.” “None of it was your fault. And if it hadn’t been that, my old man would have come up with some other reason to beat me. He always did. You know that.” Shaun sighed. “I know.” Shaun had always known what Rannon’s old man did to him. They’d only been friends for a week when Shaun had asked him, pointblank, if his pa was hitting him. Rannon had been embarrassed beyond belief. That the cool, devil-may-care older boy that Rannon had a terrible crush on might have figured out his humiliating secret had been almost more than he could bear. But then Shaun had kept talking to him, being really nice, and finally Rannon had cracked and told him everything. Maybe because he didn’t exactly have a normal home life himself with his alcoholic dad, but Shaun had never looked down on him because of it, had never teased or taunted him about it like the other kids. Or watched 90

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him with eagle eyes, like his teachers had, constantly analyzing every scratch and bruise he came to school with, no matter how small, to see if they would have to call social services over it. Whenever things had been real bad at home for Rannon, Shaun had always known. And, sometimes without ever even having to say anything, he’d found ways to make Rannon smile again. For the first time in Rannon’s life he’d felt safe, wanted. His eyes suddenly stung, forcing him to fight back moisture he refused to let fall. “Rann… ” Shaun’s voice came out hoarse. “My God, I can’t believe it’s really you.” The old nickname only made it tougher for Rannon to keep his composure. “I was such a hopeless geek back then. It’s a wonder you put up with me.” “You were never a geek.” Shaun’s gaze seared into Rannon. His hand slid up to Rannon’s face, cupping his cheek. His thumb brushed over the skin, then over his lips. The touch sent rippling jolts of need through Rannon. “I knew. I knew I recognized you earlier, and it’s killed me ever since because I couldn’t think how. God, why didn’t I realize? Your eyes… Your mouth… ” Rannon closed his eyes, briefly, savoring the feel of Shaun’s touch. When he opened them, Shaun’s gaze locked with his, filled with heat and barely restrained desire, and Rannon found himself mesmerized by it, by the whole man—the way his eyes glistened like blue gems, drawing Rannon into them, the way curling wisps of his dark hair lay against his forehead and over his ears begging to be touched, the way his lips parted and soft huffs of air passed them. Everything about Shaun seemed to be saying, Come closer, I want you. 91

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“You’re not a kid anymore,” Shaun murmured. “Neither are you.” Without even realizing he was doing it until he was halfway there, Rannon found himself leaning toward the man. He was finally with Shaun, after so many years of thinking he’d never see him again. He wanted to bury his hands in Shaun’s hair, cover his mouth with his own, and show him just how damned much he’d missed him. But then Shaun blinked, as if coming back into himself, and abruptly pulled his hand away, leaving Rannon halfway to nowhere. Rannon’s pulse thrummed in his veins, and something in his chest squeezed like the devil at being so suddenly abandoned. “I’m sorry,” Shaun said. “I don’t know what… ” He swallowed hard. Like a slam to the gut, Rannon knew. The Change. Malak craving had been creating the air of seduction between them, not a true desire on Shaun’s part to be close to Rannon. The devil in Rannon’s chest had a heyday with that realization, clenching tighter and using its forked tail to stab him in the heart a few times for good measure. Shaun blinked again, then suddenly looked around, as if he’d only now realized where he was. Deep lines creased his forehead. “How did I get in bed? What—” He tried to sit up but his face tightened in pain. “Damn.” Rannon gently pressed him back to the mattress. “Take it easy. I found you passed out on the floor when I got here.” “I don’t know what happened.” Shaun winced. “One minute I was standing there, feeling shitty, watching the sheriff leave—she came to talk to me about Doyle. And the next I got dizzy, hit the 92

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floor and everything went black.” “You feelin’ any better now?” “Yeah, some. Still weird, though. I’m not sure what’s going on.” Rannon had the powerful urge to reach out and stroke Shaun’s cheek with his fingertips, offering comfort, but he stopped himself. Shaun had pulled away from touching him just moments ago, which made him worry his own touch might not be welcome. Instead, he said, “A rough day, huh?” “Understatement.” “You want something to drink, some water?” Damn, why hadn’t he realized it sooner? Dehydration—that might be part of the reason Shaun had passed out. It would explain his rapid heart rate and breathing, his dry skin, and the dizziness Shaun mentioned. As Shaun’s physiology altered from human to Mal, he would reach a point where his body craved blood so badly he’d die if he didn’t get it, and then he’d need it regularly thereafter. But Rannon remembered hearing that during the Change, while Malaks weren’t quite human anymore but not yet fully Mal either, their bodies couldn’t yet accept blood. So they needed extra fluids to combat the dehydration created by the transformation. If Shaun hadn’t been drinking enough today, no wonder he’d been feeling so bad and having so much pain. This was all stuff someone— Doyle—should have told Shaun, but clearly never had. “Yeah,” Shaun said. “Water would be great. Thanks.” Rannon stood and went to the kitchen area. As he found a glass in the cabinet and filled it at the sink, it became clear to him once and for all that Shaun truly didn’t know what was happening to him. Which meant it was going to fall to Rannon to tell him. He closed his eyes for a moment, suddenly overwhelmed by 93

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the enormity of the situation. He’d already known admitting to Shaun that he was a Fel was going to be one of the hardest things he’d ever done. But friggin’ hell… how was he supposed to break the news to Shaun that sometime very soon, probably within the next twenty-four hours, Shaun’s life was going to change forever? How was he supposed to tell him that he was going to become what most people in normal society would consider a monster? That he’d spend the rest of his days looking over his shoulder because there were those who would hunt him like a beast? I’m so sorry, Shaun. I’d give anything for it to be different. With a sigh, Rannon opened his eyes. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, or when, but at some point very soon he was going to have to talk to Shaun about it. He returned to the bed and sat on the edge again, acutely aware of Shaun’s gaze on him, as if Shaun were trying to read what was going on in Rannon’s head. Shaun levered himself into a sitting position and accepted the glass with a grateful half-smile. “Thanks.” “Welcome. Just go slow. Slow and easy.” Shaun’s gaze shot up to meet Rannon’s. He dragged in a deep, shaky breath and let it out. “You really have to stop saying stuff like that in that sexy drawl.” His voice was low and hoarse. “It makes it hard to concentrate on anything else.” Rannon’s breath hitched at his words—sexy drawl?—and at the heat blazing in Shaun’s eyes. Then he remembered the jolt of sexual tension that had spiked between them at the church. And now here it was again, like a live thing. Rannon’s skin tingled in response, his pulse raced, and his stomach knotted in that painfully delicious I want you so bad it hurts way. “I’m not trying to make it hard,” he said. 94

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The moment the last word left his mouth, he almost groaned at the unintended sexual innuendo. Shaun did groan. But before Rannon could respond, once again Shaun was the one to break the connection. He winced almost as if he was sorry he’d said what he had, then changed the subject. “How did you find me?” Rannon drew in a breath. He felt like a June bug, desperately buzzing to fly free and see where the heated looks between him and Shaun would take them, but restrained by some damned string Shaun held that kept jerking him back just as he was about to get what he wanted. “I mean, how’d you find me here in Dreamspell,” Shaun said, clearing his throat. Rannon forced himself to focus on the questions at hand and tamp down the aching desire Shaun kept building in him, then snatching away. At least he didn’t sense any distrust or suspicion in Shaun’s tone, like he had this afternoon. Just curiosity. But now that the obvious question was out, he was faced with the dilemma of how much to tell Shaun. Did he spill it all right now or gradually work him into it? In the split second that passed, Rannon decided now was not the right time to unload a huge new burden on Shaun. He’d only been awake a few minutes and was clearly still trying to get his bearings. The least Rannon could do was give him some breathing room to get his feet back under him before he dropped a life-changing bombshell on him. “I looked you up on the Internet and went to your apartment in DC this morning to see you. You weren’t there, but when she saw me knockin’ on your door, your landlady… she’s… well… ” Shaun shook his head. “Oh, jeez, I know what she is… a gossip 95

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and a motor mouth. Let me guess, she probably not only told you where I’d gone, but the exact minute I left, what I was wearing, my shoe size, and what I had for breakfast since she forced me to take a piece of toast and jam with me that she’d made this morning.” Rannon laughed softly. “Pretty much.” “I’ve got to talk to her again about sharing too much info with strangers. Christ, I think if someone was there trying to break in, she’d pull out her spare key and open the door for them, all while giving them my bank account and credit card numbers because she thought she was somehow helping me.” Shaun did need to talk to her. The woman, nice though she’d seemed, had not only set Rannon on Shaun’s path this morning, but probably the Fel hunting him as well. It could have cost Shaun his life. “How’d you manage to find this tiny cabin in the middle of nowhere?” Shaun asked. “I asked in town where Doyle lived. I figured you’d be here.” The lie came so smoothly it was almost scary. But Rannon didn’t want to have to explain to Shaun that he knew where to find him because his sensitive Fel hearing had allowed him, all the way up on the ridge, to catch Shaun’s conversation with the priest. Shaun’s shoulders slumped. “I guess it’s up to me now to go through Doyle’s things. I hadn’t seen him in years. I didn’t even know he was dead until after I got here.” He lifted his troubled gaze to Rannon. “What kind of a son does that make me?” Rannon wanted to touch Shaun so bad, offer physical comfort, but held himself back. “What happened between you two?” he asked quietly. “You know how he was—the drinking. I just… I couldn’t take it anymore. We had a big blow up and I told him I didn’t want him 96

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to contact me again, I didn’t want to have anything else to do with him. I hadn’t seen or talked to him since. That was eight years ago.” “It doesn’t make you a bad son. It just means you did what you had to in order to protect yourself.” Rannon knew from experience how that felt. Shaun sighed. “I guess. All these years and I never second guessed my decision. But then I came here and everyone talks about him like he was this decent, upstanding guy, like he managed to turn his life around, and… I don’t know. It’s started making me wonder if I gave him a fair shake.” Rannon could see guilt and uncertainty etched into the lines on Shaun’s forehead. “All we can ever do is what we think is right at the time, Shaun. We can’t spend our lives on what-ifs or wishing for do-overs. If we did, we’d forget to live in the here and now, when it’s important.” “When’d you get to be so wise?” Rannon gave him a faint, rueful smile. “I don’t feel very wise. Mostly I just feel like I’m getting by.” “I know that feeling,” Shaun murmured. “You doin’ okay?” Shaun nodded, but he didn’t look okay. “Why’d you leave in such a hurry at the church this afternoon?” The question caught Rannon off guard. He heard a thread of hurt in Shaun’s voice and it bothered him. A lot. He hadn’t meant to hurt Shaun today by running off. “I’m sorry I had to go so fast.” And he was. God knows he was. “I found out what happened to your dad, but I wasn’t sure if you’d want me crashin’ the funeral. I wanted to be there for you, though, so I parked on the back road by the cemetery and figured 97

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I’d watch from a distance, then talk to you afterward. But I’d left my truck parked somewhere I shouldn’t have and I had to get back to it and move it before it caused problems.” Though his brows drew together for a moment, Shaun seemed to buy the story, and Rannon felt a tiny bit of the load lift off his shoulders. The part about not wanting to crash the funeral was the truth, and the rest… well, it wasn’t completely untrue. “I hope you don’t mind,” Rannon said. “That I followed you down here from DC Your landlady said she thought you might be gone a couple of days and I just… I really wanted to see you.” “Are you kidding?” The hurt had faded and Shaun simply looked tired again, like the day had stomped him into the ground. “I can’t even tell you how glad I am that you came. It’s been a… ” He shook his head. “A crappy day?” Rannon supplied. “To say the least. But seeing you again… ” Shaun’s eyes, so blue, looked at him with barely concealed longing, like they used to look at him when they were teenagers. “It’s like Christmas. I feel like I did the first time I ever saw you. You remember that day?” Rannon smiled. “Of course I do. It was late May, the last day of school.” “Doyle and I had just driven into Brill a few hours earlier,” Shaun said. “I was pissed ’cause we’d had to move yet again, so after we unloaded the car and he took off to start his afternoon drinking, I was sitting on the porch step cursing him and life and everything else I could think of. And then there you were, walking home from school. Some jerk-off older kid, Harvey or Hal or—” “Harold,” Rannon said. “Harold Creedy.” “That’s right… Big Harold. He started pushing you around. I 98

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remember watching you stand there and hold your ground, even though you were only half his size. I couldn’t believe it. Most kids would have been running for home from a bully that big, but not you. I started toward you to help, but before I could get there, he swung at you. You ducked, then nailed him right in the nuts. He dropped to the ground, and there you were, standing over him with this cocky swagger. I realized right then I wanted to know you better.” Rannon shrugged, but couldn’t hold back a grin. “I only did that ’cause I knew you were watchin’ and I wanted to impress you—it was a moment of temporary insanity. And you did get to know me better, about thirty seconds later, when he got up and lunged at me. He probably would’ve killed me if you hadn’t been there to save my skinny ass.” Shaun smiled again, and Rannon felt the beauty of it all the way to his groin. “I just finished him off,” Shaun said. “You’d already messed him up pretty good.” “I can’t believe you remember all that.” “I remember everything from that summer.” The low, throaty tone of Shaun’s voice and the faraway look in his eyes led Rannon to wonder if Shaun was thinking about the afternoons they’d spent at the pond on the old, abandoned farm where they’d roamed. The water had been fed by a spring, and the pond nestled in a hollow, completely hidden from view by giant weeping willows, and surrounded for hundreds of acres by empty land. The perfect, secret place for two teenage boys to explore their desires, far away from the prying eyes of a closed-minded, conservative town. He remembered the first time he and Shaun had kissed, along with how surprised they’d been when they’d leaned in at the same 99

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exact time to go for it. He remembered the first time they’d touched each other, hesitant at first, then growing bolder as they discovered how good they could make each other feel. Nothing had ever felt as incredible as the hot sun beating down on his bare skin during those lazy summer days, and Shaun’s even hotter touch and kisses exploring and laying claim to him. Rannon’s groin pulsed and began to ache. He’d never stopped wanting Shaun, even after all the years apart. Sweet Jesus. He had to quit this, right now. He needed to stand up, take a few steps away, and pull himself together before Shaun discovered the problem pressing against the zipper of Rannon’s jeans and decided to run for the hills. He was about to do just that when Shaun spoke and the words held Rannon riveted in place. “I remember everything because those four months we knew each other… ” Shaun’s voice grew husky. “They were the best of my life growing up.” Rannon stared at him, momentarily speechless. Earlier today he’d been so sure their past had meant nothing to Shaun because he thought Shaun hadn’t remembered him. But Rannon couldn’t ignore the truth shimmering in Shaun’s eyes. “Then why’d you leave?” he whispered. He hadn’t meant to ask—this wasn’t the time and place for it—but it wasn’t the adult Rannon asking. It was the hurt fifteen-year-old he’d been, who hadn’t understood how his best friend could have disappeared in the night without saying goodbye. “Doyle already had our stuff packed when I got home one night. He tricked me into getting in the car with him—I think he knew I wouldn’t go willingly again—he said he’d found a new place to stay on the other side of town. But then he didn’t stop on 100

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the other side of town, he kept driving, across the railroad tracks and onto the highway away from Brill. I was furious, shouted at him to stop the car and let me out, but he wouldn’t. He said four months was too long to be in one place. He was freaked out, like he sometimes got, said someone was after him and we had to get away.” Oh hell. The pieces of an old mystery fell into place. Someone had been after Doyle. The night Shaun disappeared, Rannon had heard his old man bragging to his uncle that he’d discovered a leech living at the edge of town and was going after him late that night. Rannon had known in his gut who the leech was. He’d begun to suspect Doyle was a Malak over the months—there’d been little clues here and there—but he’d never breathed a word to his family because he knew what they did to Mals. And he’d certainly never said anything to Shaun either, ’cause he hadn’t wanted Shaun to hate him for who he was. The moment he heard his old man’s plan he’d been scared to death something bad might happen to Shaun, so he’d run, full-out, in his human form because hadn’t yet been able to shift, the mile and a half to Shaun’s place. Only to find the house empty and Shaun and Doyle gone. He’d been crushed. He hadn’t known until this moment that his own father had been the reason Shaun moved away. The realization made him sick. “I would never have left without saying goodbye if Doyle hadn’t made me,” Shaun said, his voice quiet. Rannon nodded, yet it hurt all over again and he didn’t know why. It had been almost fourteen years since it had happened. “I’d never hated Doyle more than I did that night,” Shaun said. 101

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“It was the final straw. His drinking, his paranoia, and then pulling the rug out from under me when I’d finally felt like … like there was something worth… ” He swallowed. “When we got to the next place, some dink town in Indiana, I took off on my own. I never lived with him again.” Rannon’s heart ached, thinking of teenage Shaun out on his own, probably scrounging for food and sleeping God knew where. He couldn’t even imagine what all he’d been through to get to where he was today. “I didn’t know,” he murmured. “That you’d been on your own since then.” “I never regretted running away. Of course Doyle managed to track me down and find me several times over the years, usually when he needed something, until that last time. But at least I didn’t have to live with him and get dragged all over creation anymore. The worst part of the whole thing was knowing what kind of hell I’d deserted you to live in.” The words meant more to Rannon than he could express, and he felt a small portion of the old heartache heal. Part of him wanted to ask why Shaun hadn’t come back for him, but he knew the answer already and could never blame him. Shaun had been a minor. With no family support, no money, no transportation, it wasn’t like he’d had any means to come back to Texas, even if he’d wanted to. He’d taken a brave risk by leaving Doyle. But being underage and a runaway, it wasn’t like jobs or any kind of help would have come his way easily, especially if he wanted to avoid the system, which he knew Shaun would have. Plus, only a few months after Shaun left Brill, Rannon’s old man and uncle decided it was time for the James family to relocate. They’d moved to another tiny, isolated Texas town, this one clear 102

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across the state near the Arkansas border. Rannon always suspected it was because they’d drawn attention to themselves in Brill with their hunting. He couldn’t fathom any other reason that would have caused the two senior Fels to upend their established patterns. Probably the law got too close to one of their kills. So even if Shaun had come back, Rannon wouldn’t have been there. “If I had it to do all over again, I never would have left you, Rannon,” Shaun said. “I’d have ditched Doyle in Brill and gotten you out of there. If you would have gone.” “I would have followed you anywhere,” Rannon admitted, his throat thick with old emotion. “Rann… ” Shaun’s voice caught on a hitch. He started to reach for Rannon, and once again, like a fool, Rannon found himself leaning toward him, hoping, wanting. But then Shaun’s expression grew troubled. His fingers curled into his hand and he lowered it back to his lap. Rannon swallowed hard and drew in a pained breath full of disappointment. Why did Shaun keep pulling away? “You want some more to drink?” he asked, motioning toward the now empty glass Shaun held. He needed to put some distance between them, needed to be out of touching range, needed to find a way to breathe without having Shaun’s warm scent invading every part of his being and overwhelming his senses. “You’re looking a little better. You should keep drinking.” Shaun looked at the glass in a daze, almost as if he’d forgotten he held it. “Um, yeah, okay. Thanks.” Rannon took the glass and escaped to the kitchen sink. “You might have gotten dehydrated today,” he said, amazed at how calm he sounded when inside he felt anything but. 103

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“Maybe. Especially since most of the liquid I had today came in the form of way too much caffeine.” When Rannon returned to the bed, he handed Shaun the glass. “It’s too bad your dad didn’t keep any sports drinks. That would help even more than water. I looked in the fridge earlier and aside from a carton of eggs and some condiments, there’s not much there.” “Shit, I totally forgot.” Shaun dragged a hand through his hair. “I have a couple of bottles of Gatorade out in my FJ, along with a bunch of other food. I stopped at the grocery store in town and the old couple who own it loaded me up with stuff. It’s been out there a long time. I’d better go get it.” He started to push off the bedcovers. “It’s okay.” Without thinking, Rannon put a hand on Shaun’s shoulder to stop him from getting up. The contact caused an instant surge of heat. It was so powerful it rattled him, sending jolts of arousal through him. Shaun clearly felt the connection, too, because Rannon’s sensitive hearing picked up Shaun’s accelerated heart rate again, almost as fast as it had been earlier, and a long, slow, shaky breath escaped him. “You stay here and take it easy. I’ll go get the food,” Rannon said, snatching his hand away before he found himself doing something stupid, like pushing Shaun back on the bed and showing him just how damned much he’d missed him and still wanted him. It took all his willpower to keep his chaotic emotions and desires in check. Shaun stared up at him, and Rannon thought he saw disappointment on Shaun’s face. And confusion. Rannon knew the feeling. He was confused, too. At Shaun’s sensual push/pull—luring Rannon, then putting a stop to it before 104

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it could go anywhere, only to lure him again. He was confused at his own feelings—yearning for Shaun with desperation but still not totally certain if Shaun really wanted him or just a warm body from which he could feed when the time came. And also confused at his own reaction since he was the one backing away this time when he didn’t even want to. “Do you have something else you want me to get while I’m out there? Some clothes or something?” “There’s a duffel bag in the back,” Shaun said. “But you don’t have to—” “I’ll get it for you. Keys?” Shaun nodded and reached for his coat, which Rannon had draped across the trunk at the foot of the bed. Rannon tried not to stare at the broad expanse of Shaun’s bare, muscular back and shoulders as he stretched across the bed. The sight only made his own unsettled state worse. Shaun pulled his keys from the coat pocket and tossed them to Rannon. When Rannon glanced down at them his heart stalled. Shaun’s keychain was an old rabbit’s foot, worn from long use. He looked up at Shaun, his heart in his throat. “Is this… ?” “Of course. It’s always brought me good luck. Just like you said it would when you gave it to me.” Rannon rubbed his thumb over the fur. “I’m not even sure if it’s real.” “Doesn’t matter.” Shaun’s gaze grew warm again. “It came from you. That’s all I ever cared about.” He didn’t even know what to say. That Shaun still carried the same rabbit’s foot Rannon had given him all those years ago touched Rannon down deep inside. “I’ll go get the stuff now,” he 105

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murmured, suddenly needing some air. He didn’t know why such a seemingly small thing affected him so much, but he couldn’t deny it did. Rannon started to turn toward the door. “Rannon, you’re staying aren’t you? Here tonight?” Rannon stopped and looked at him. Shaun’s question hung in the air between them. “Do you want me to?” He wasn’t sure why he asked because leaving wasn’t an option. Even if Shaun kicked him out of the cabin, Rannon would spend the night in his truck or in the woods, keeping watch over Shaun. But maybe it was the fifteen year old in him again—hell, the almost twenty-nine year old in him as well—needing reassurance. Needing to hear from Shaun’s own mouth that he wanted Rannon around and wasn’t just accepting his presence because Rannon had thrust it on him or because he had some subliminal Mal agenda. “I’d like that,” Shaun said. “If you’re okay with it.” It could still be the Mal in him wanting you. But something in Shaun’s tone made Rannon think otherwise. “I know it’s been a long time,” Shaun continued, his voice painfully quiet. “I don’t know where you live now, or what you do, or even if maybe you have someone special in your life.” He paused for a moment, almost as if he were searching Rannon’s face for a hint or a reassurance. “But seeing you again… I’ve missed you. So even if you can only be here for one night… ” The admission slid straight through Rannon’s heart, and he knew, without any lingering doubt, that this was truly Shaun the man—the hurting, lonely man—reaching out to him. He wondered if Shaun had felt as lost all these years as he had. He hoped not because he wouldn’t wish the experience on anyone. But something inside Rannon recognized an adrift kindred spirit in Shaun, maybe much like it had all those years ago. 106

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He found it hard to get words out around the lump that suddenly filled his throat. “I’ll stay as long as you want me to.” He thought he saw Shaun’s shoulders sag a bit in relief. “Thank you. That means a lot.” Rannon turned toward the door, but stopped again and looked back at Shaun. “For the record… there isn’t anyone else special in my life.” Something—was it hope?—flared in Shaun’s gaze, and Rannon carried it with him outside, trying not to think too hard about what it meant. A few minutes later, Rannon brought in the groceries and his and Shaun’s bags. Shaun, who’d just come out of the bathroom, rifled through his duffel. He was obviously feeling a little better, although he still looked pale. Drinking had helped, but every now and then Rannon saw him pause in what he was doing, wince, and draw in a few deep breaths as if he were fighting something within himself—which he was, Rannon knew all too well. He felt a twinge of guilt that he hadn’t told Shaun yet what was happening to him. But God almighty, how did you tell someone you hadn’t seen in fourteen years—especially someone you still had strong feelings for and didn’t want to scare right back out of your life—that, oh, and by the way, a little fact I neglected to mention last time we knew each other, but I’m really a cursed mutant beast and so are you? Just the thought of it caused Rannon to stifle a groan. It’s not like he could just spring it on Shaun out of the blue and have even a tiny hope Shaun would believe him. Because, honestly, who would believe something like that? Clearly Shaun hadn’t grown up in the same kind of world Rannon had, where he’d been forced to live and breathe the whole dark and deadly 107

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supernatural existence. To Shaun it would all sound like a total nutjob mental breakdown, or a psychedelic fairy tale. No, Rannon had to find a way and a time to tell Shaun when Shaun wouldn’t have any choice but to believe it. You’ll find the right time to tell him. Rannon tried to take comfort in that. But he still couldn’t stop worrying that the moment he told Shaun, it would be the end of any kind of relationship they might have or would have rekindled. And the feeling left him sick inside. Not as sick as you’d feel if something awful happened to him because you didn’t warn him. He squeezed his eyes closed. “How am I gonna do this?” “Did you say something?” Rannon opened his eyes to find Shaun looking at him, concerned lines creasing his forehead. Why was it that even now, when Shaun was the one hurting and in danger, that he was looking at Rannon like he wanted to protect him and make him feel better? “No,” Rannon said. “I was just mumblin’ to myself about what’s in these grocery bags.” “Way more than we probably need,” Shaun said. “But trying to argue with the Grommets, the old couple who run the store in town, was pointless.” He yanked a pair of exercise shorts and a Tshirt out of his duffel bag and began to pull them on. Rannon tried not to watch how Shaun’s tall, athletic body moved, how his shoulders and back tensed and rippled as he tugged the shirt down over his head, and how his ass flexed beneath the tight stretchy fabric of his dark boxer briefs while he dragged on the shorts. It was just as well Rannon didn’t have a clear view of his front, otherwise he knew he’d probably be staring 108

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at other things he really shouldn’t right now. But even as he tried to concentrate on unloading the food from the plastic shopping bags, his gaze was continually drawn back to the other man. Crap, he had to stop this. Had to stop obsessing about how much he wanted to touch Shaun. All the groceries seemed to be okay, with one exception. “I think the ice cream’s officially dead. It melted and leaked out into the bag.” Rannon looked up at him. “I thought you didn’t even like ice cream?” “I still don’t.” “Why’d you get it then?” he asked as Shaun came to sit at the table. “The Grommets loaded me up on stuff they picked out. They were so enthusiastic and nice, I didn’t have the heart to be nitpicky over what they put in the bags.” Rannon bit back a smile. Not wanting to hurt the shopkeepers’ feelings sounded like the same Shaun he’d known long ago. From the final bag Rannon pulled out a tall but narrow black canister. “And what, exactly, is this?” Shaun groaned under his breath. “Another ‘must have.’ After what happened to Doyle, Mr. Grommet decided I needed bear spray, ‘just in case.’ Of course, now the sheriff says it might not have been a bear anyway. Maybe a mountain lion. ” Rannon sobered. “It’s not bad advice, keeping it handy. It’ll work just as well on mountain lions… if you should need it.” He didn’t want to think about the fact Shaun could just as easily use it on him if he was too freaked when Rannon told him the truth. Better to take that risk and know Shaun had some kind of protection against Fels on the hunt. “Seriously? I didn’t even think there were cougars east of the 109

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Mississippi, except maybe rarely. Even if one did get Doyle, it had to be a fluke. Don’t you think?” Rannon swallowed hard. “I think there are more things lurking in the woods than most people realize.” “What, like lions and tigers and bears, oh my? Or maybe zombies or werewolves?” Shaun’s eyes held a teasing glint. It’s the perfect opening. Take it. Tell him. No. Shaun was joking, and what Rannon needed to tell him was dead serious. Shaun wouldn’t take him seriously if he tried now. He’d think Rannon was joking, too. You could shift and prove it to him. No. Not like that. “I’m just saying that I think humans see nature in more black and white terms than it really is,” Rannon said. “I think almost anything is possible, even if it’s not probable.” “How very Holmesian of you.” Rannon cocked a questioning eyebrow at him. “‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’ It’s a quote from Sherlock Holmes.” A grin tugged at Rannon’s mouth. “How very literary of you, Mr. Writer.” Shaun smiled, and for a second time tonight when he’d had a glimpse of the full-blown thing, Rannon almost couldn’t breathe it was so damned sexy. Once again, he found himself hard and aching and trying to hide that fact from the man just a few feet away. “Are you hungry?” he asked Shaun, using the excuse of rummaging through the food on the counter to turn away from Shaun so he wouldn’t see how he affected Rannon. 110

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“I’ve been feeling like crap all day. Nothing really sounds good, although I suppose I should probably try to eat something.” Mals ate regular food—they had to, to nourish the part of them that was still human. They just also had to include the absolute necessary requirement of blood in their diets in order to appease the always hungry creature they’d been cursed to play host to. But with Shaun caught in some in-between state right now, his body probably didn’t know what it needed—and neither did Rannon. With the limited resources at hand, he ended up making turkey and cheese sandwiches on white bread, and set out a bag of potato chips. “I didn’t mean for you to have to do this,” Shaun said, as they sat at the table across from each other. “No worries. I make a mean sandwich, so I’ve been told. At least that’s what they said at Spike’s Deli in Little Rock when I worked there.” That brought another smile to Shaun’s face. “Little Rock? Is that where you live now?” “I was there for a while. I’ve … sort of gotten around.” The shift in conversation made Rannon self-conscious about his less than stable life. He remembered how much Shaun had hated moving all the time with his father, how he’d talked about it with pure scorn on his face, as if people who lived like that weren’t worthy of respect. So the last thing Rannon wanted to admit to Shaun was that he’d spent most of the past ten years a nomad— wandering from state to state, and even into Mexico and Canada at a couple of points, waiting tables, cooking at diners, doing construction and landscaping, or whatever other work he could find. Unlike Shaun, who had gone to college and had a steady and respectable career, Rannon was embarrassed that he had little to 111

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show for his adult life. He hadn’t darkened the door of any kind of academic institution since he’d barely scraped his way through high school. And as far as money, most of the time he had just enough to buy food and gas and keep a small stash in an envelope in his truck’s glove box for emergencies. Hell, how could he admit to Shaun that his truck was his home. Even if he was interested in you again, he deserves better than your sorry ass, and you know it. The thought sobered him and caused a tight catch in his throat. Shaun studied him, but as if he sensed Rannon’s discomfort, he didn’t push for more details about his living situation. “Are you still drawing?” Grateful for the topic change, Rannon said, “Yeah. Still attempting to anyway.” “Attempting my butt. You were always good.” Rannon shrugged, but smiled. “I spent a couple of summers traveling the Renaissance Faire circuit, doing portraits of people for a few bucks a pop.” “Now that I’d like to see… you dressed in some of that racy period clothing. Boots, tights, shirts that hang open to show your chest. Very sexy.” Rannon snorted, although he couldn’t help the rush of heat that surged through him yet again at Shaun’s interest. “Oh yeah, real sexy. More like hot and sweaty and dusty, or muddy as the case may be, since those festivals are always outside. At the end of each day I’d have dirt in places you don’t even want to know about.” “Don’t I?” Shaun said with a little smirk teasing at his lips. Shit… now that was sexy, that little smile. Rannon groaned silently. Stop doing this! Agh! “Eat already,” he said, but couldn’t stop his own smile from 112

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breaking free as he grabbed a handful of chips out of the bag. The chips and sandwich tasted better than they should, and Rannon realized that, unlike Shaun, he was starving. He hadn’t had anything to eat all day. Or maybe it was the company that made the meal worthwhile. “Thank you.” He looked up to find Shaun had turned serious again. “For what?” “For everything you’ve done tonight. For dragging my butt up off the floor. For this.” He nodded at the food on the table. “For staying.” “I’m just glad I’m here and can help.” “So am I,” Shaun said. He reached across the table and curled his fingers over Rannon’s. The touch sent heat through Rannon’s hand, up along his arm, and straight to other still-aching parts. This time when Shaun let go, he didn’t do it like he’d been burned, and the moment of closeness lingered. Shaun took a couple of bites of his sandwich, but mostly drank the Gatorade Rannon had poured for him. And all the while, his gaze, warm and intense, seldom left Rannon, as if he couldn’t get enough of looking at him. By the time they’d finished eating they’d said little, but Rannon was once again hard, and jumpy as a jackrabbit. Every look Shaun gave him, every breath he took, only made Rannon crave him more, with a desperation he was finding harder and harder to control. Shaun was the one who was supposed to have the ability to seduce, yet all Rannon could think about was getting Shaun naked. Or maybe that is Shaun’s doing. Maybe it’s still the Mal thing, him making you feel this way. 113

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At this point Rannon didn’t give a damn. He wanted Shaun in the worst way, in every way, as a man, as a Mal, or any combination of the two. And unless he put some space between them, he was afraid he was going to attack Shaun like the beast he was. In fact, he felt his inner Fel stirring, restless, as it did sometimes when he got overly agitated. “Do you mind if I use the shower?” he managed to get out before his voice grew totally hoarse and gave away his turmoil. Shaun gave him another one of those enigmatic looks that Rannon didn’t know how to interpret. “Help yourself. I think I saw towels and stuff in there.” Without looking at Shaun again—because if he did, he was afraid he’d lose it—he grabbed his shaving kit and some clothes from his bag and made his escape to the sanctuary of the bathroom. Hopefully a shower and some time alone with his hand would rein in his rising lust.

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CHAPTER 7 There isn’t anyone else special in my life. Shaun couldn’t stop thinking about Rannon’s comment. Especially the part about “there isn’t anyone else.” He tried not to second guess what Rannon had meant by it, but the seed had been planted and now he found himself repeatedly coming back to it. Had Rannon thought of him over the years? As much as Shaun had thought and wondered and worried about him? He’d tried to find Rannon several times—had spent hours attempting to dig up something, anything, about the boy he’d been forced to leave behind. But he’d always come up empty-handed. It was as if Rannon had dropped off the face of the earth. But now, when Shaun had finally given up on ever seeing him again, here he was. What had caused him to seek Shaun out after so many years? 115

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Rannon hadn’t really said, only that he’d wanted to see him. Was he just in the area and had looked Shaun up? That seemed the most likely, although Rannon hadn’t really told him much of anything about his life now—not where he lived, or what he did for a living. In fact, he’d looked uncomfortable when the topic of where he lived came up. Shaun had dropped it when he realized the subject made Rannon ill at ease, but it had left him with even more questions. Still, he decided that having Rannon here with him was enough for now. Restless, feeling like something alive crawled through his veins, Shaun prowled around the small cabin, touching a book on a shelf here, a knick-knack there. He knew his attention should be on Doyle and what he was going to have to do to clear Doyle’s things out of here. He didn’t have a clue what of this stuff was his father’s and what belonged to the people who owned the place, wasn’t even sure at this point how to get in touch with them. But his brain refused to focus on that, no matter how he tried. He couldn’t even seem to concentrate on what was wrong with him, what had caused him to pass out, and was still tormenting his insides. Even though he felt a bit better now than he had earlier, he suspected this was merely a reprieve. He sensed the wrongness within him was still there, lurking, waiting to return full force at some point. But all of that was mostly a numb buzz in the back of his head. Instead, as the seconds and then minutes ticked by, over and over his thoughts kept returning to the man who’d just walked back into his life. Rannon James. Shaun couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized at the church earlier 116

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who he was. Down deep inside, though, some part of him obviously had recognized him, which was why Rannon had felt so familiar and strangely comforting, and probably why Shaun’s body had zeroed in on him like a pigeon desperate for home. The cute as hell skinny kid with an attitude who’d turned his world upside down as a teenager had grown into a hot as hell man with a sexy drawl that made Shaun’s groin throb every time he spoke. He loved the way Rannon’s eyes sparkled when he smiled, loved his tousled hair—longer than it used to be and dark blond now instead of the color of pale wheat. Loved the freckles across his nose that were not just cute anymore, but unbearably sexy. He loved Rannon’s scent—part spice, part masculine musk, and part something else so damned enticing it made Shaun’s mouth water and his balls ache. He loved how he’d looked tonight, dressed in faded jeans that hugged his ass and thighs, the gray tee, and the dark green wool V-neck sweater that made his eyes look even greener. Shaun couldn’t stop thinking about touching him, tasting his mouth, his skin, and burying himself in his body. It was like he had no control, like something about the man pulled at him like a damned tractor beam, and Shaun couldn’t break free. And the truth was, he didn’t want to break free. Rannon had always had that effect on him. It had started the moment he’d laid eyes on him that miserably hot May afternoon so long ago, and clearly time and distance hadn’t diminished the pull at all, only made it stronger. Only made the boy who’d grown into a man even more appealing. And now, he was in the bathroom, taking off his clothes. Shaun swallowed hard. He’d never wanted anyone as badly as he did Rannon at this moment—his whole body felt electrified just thinking about him, he’d had a permanent erection for the past hour, and desire knotted in a hot, tangled ball deep inside him. 117

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He’d warred with himself all evening not to come on too strong and scare Rannon away. It was like something inside him was driving him to take what was his… to capture Rannon by whatever means necessary, and lay claim to him. The urge was strong enough it scared Shaun, made him feel more than a little out of control. He’d had to keep reminding himself all night that it had been a long time since they’d seen each other and he couldn’t just assume Rannon would want to pick back up where they’d left off as teenagers. He’d also been afraid Rannon might be with someone else, and even though Shaun desperately craved him, he couldn’t, wouldn’t, force Rannon into an uncomfortable situation. Some devil perched on his shoulder told him yes, you can. Take him. He’s yours. But the rational man Shaun hoped was his better side managed to keep his wits about him and do his damnedest to keep Rannon’s best interests at the forefront. Still, the thought of his Rannon with another man had almost hurt worse than anything else he’d dealt with today. It wasn’t like it hadn’t crossed his mind over the years, that he hadn’t wondered where Rannon was and who he might be with. It was just that now that he was here and Shaun had seen him, heard him, touched him again, even briefly, it had rebooted every feeling he’d ever had for the younger man and intensified them a hundredfold, including, apparently, the possessive ones. Which was why he couldn’t get the gift of Rannon’s words out of his head: For the record… there isn’t anyone else special in my life. The big question was, had Rannon merely been stating the fact, or was he trying to tell Shaun in a roundabout way that he still had feelings for him? 118

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The wondering, just like the waiting, was making him crazy. “Damn it! Stop trying to analyze it,” he groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. “You’ve only been with him again for a few hours—give him some space.” But the space between them right now was only making Shaun’s craving for him more intense. And the amount of time didn’t seem to matter. For Shaun, it was as if the fourteen years apart had never happened. He found himself at the bathroom door. The water had started in the shower, and his mind filled with a vision of what the mature Rannon might look like standing in there nude. Christ. A new wave of longing hit him so hard he almost couldn’t breathe. He rested his forehead against the cool wood door and closed his eyes. When he and Doyle lived in Brill, it had been the first time he’d ever really connected with someone his age, the first time he’d ever let himself connect. Living the kind of life they had, always on the move, had taught Shaun at a young age that it hurt too much to invest in friendships because after a few short weeks, or sometimes even days, Doyle would drag him away and he’d never see those people again. What had possessed him to open up his trust and heart to Rannon he didn’t know, except that they’d meshed from the very first day. It hadn’t been a conscious decision, it had just happened. He’d found himself inextricably woven into the threads of Rannon’s life, and vice versa. When Rannon smiled that cute, crooked grin, it was like the sun would break through the darkest cloud. And when Rannon hurt, everything in Shaun had hurt, too, and he would have done anything in the world to make it better. Even though four months was the longest he and Doyle had 119

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ever stayed anywhere, it had been way too brief, and the night Doyle drove them away, something inside Shaun had died, and continued to die a little more every day thereafter. Maybe even into adulthood. Maybe even still. Until today. But this time he didn’t have Doyle making his decisions for him. This time he was in charge of his own fate with Rannon, come what may. He didn’t know what, exactly, possessed him to do it, couldn’t even pinpoint it to any kind of rational decision. He just found himself reaching out to the turn the knob on the bathroom door— surprised to find it unlocked. He gave the door a gentle push and it slowly swung open. His breath caught at the sight it revealed. Through the steam and the thin, clear shower curtain, Rannon’s profile made an indelible impression of masculinity. Though he wasn’t tall, nor did he have bulging muscles like someone who lived at the gym, his shoulders were proportionately broad, his waist lean, his arms and legs toned, and his ass… Shaun swallowed hard. Holy crap. His ass was mouthwatering—round and firm and the stuff of wet dreams. Rannon stood under the spray, his head tilted down as if in exhaustion… or concentration. Or maybe both. His body, on the other hand, seemed taut with tension. Occasionally he dragged in a deep breath, then shuddered as he let it out. His eyes were closed and he had one hand braced against the shower wall in front of him. The other was firmly wrapped around his cock, which he stroked with sensual determination. The vision held Shaun riveted, and his mouth went dry. He felt like a horny kid at a peep show, and yet, though his own 120

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body ached with need in response, it wasn’t all raw lust that drove him to keep watching. There was a beauty, an almost artistic grace, to the sight of Rannon framed against the tiled backdrop, with the thin curtain peppered with water droplets and a faint sheen of steam that blurred Shaun’s view just enough he couldn’t see fine details but was left to focus on the overall sensuous picture. It was erotic art at its finest, and the fact it wasn’t just anyone, but Rannon, at its center, only made it more stirring. But then, as if he’d suddenly sensed the other presence in the room with him, Rannon’s head turned, his eyes opened… and Shaun stood frozen as their gazes locked. Fuck. Caught. Yet he couldn’t seem to make himself turn away. Couldn’t seem to speak either. And neither did Rannon, whose hand on his shaft stalled momentarily, but then began to move again at a slower pace, almost as if the erotic caresses were as natural and mindless as breathing, driven by instinct rather than thought. Damn, how sexy was that? Although Shaun didn’t know how it was possible, he was certain he heard Rannon’s heart rate pick up, heard his breathing quicken. Rannon’s gaze was openly hungry, but also guarded, as if he wasn’t sure what agenda Shaun might have. Agenda? There’d been none. No thought. Just reaction and a need to see Rannon and be closer to him. Shaun suddenly realized he’d been gawking for far too long, and he’d come in here uninvited. Rannon still hadn’t spoken, which left Shaun doubting his reasons for continuing to stand here. Though it was one of the hardest things he’d ever done, he somehow managed to clear his throat and find words. “I’m sorry. Sorry… ” 121

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He turned and squeezed his eyes closed at the pain he felt from choosing to walk away from what he wanted. “Shaun… ” Rannon’s husky voice stopped him in his tracks. But he didn’t look back. Couldn’t. He was afraid turning away a second time would be beyond his capabilities and what little control he had left would flee. He didn’t have to look, though. Because Rannon spoke again. Only a single word, but it seared through Shaun. “Stay.” For a long heartbeat Shaun found he couldn’t move again as the invitation sank in. Then he turned, slowly, his heart pounding. Rannon pulled back the shower curtain, revealing all the intimate details Shaun hadn’t been able to make out before. His eyes burned with so much need it nearly dropped Shaun to his knees. “Stay,” he said again softly, a plea this time. Shaun had no memory of stripping off his clothes. He only knew within seconds he was stepping over the edge of the tub and into the steamy heat of the shower and Rannon’s hot, water-slicked body. Rannon’s hands reached for him at the same time Shaun’s went for him. Palms cupped the back of heads, hands tangled in hair, and then their mouths crashed together, hungry and desperate. And achingly familiar. Their bodies, different now—harder, more experienced, and wired with the needs of men instead of the hormone driven uncertainty of youth—still knew each other and recognized their bond. The kiss deepened, their tongues lashing together, claiming, exploring and relearning paths once discovered so long ago. Rannon’s hand slid down Shaun’s back, his palm warm and rough, 122

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stroking along his spine, then down over his ass, pulling him in closer until their groins nestled together. The shock of turgid length, sleek skin, and the pleasant rasp of wiry hair against his own painfully hard dick made Shaun groan. “What took you so long?” Rannon murmured against his lips. Shaun remembered the unlocked bathroom door. Had it really been an invitation? “I thought maybe you’d come in here to get away from me, that maybe I’d come on too strong earlier.” Rannon made a low noise that almost sounded like a laugh. “What?” Shaun demanded, trying to lean back and look in Rannon’s eyes. But Rannon yanked him right back into another devouring kiss, swallowing his protest. Only when they were forced to come up for air, did Rannon speak again. He kissed a line up Shaun’s jaw until his breath was hot against Shaun’s ear. “I came in here ’cause I was doin’ a crappy job of hidin’ how much I really wanted to tear off your clothes and do unspeakable things to you.” His admission sent a staggering new surge of lust through Shaun, and left him swaying in surprise. “Seriously?” “Hell yeah.” A beat of silence hovered between them, as Rannon’s declaration sank in. “How unspeakable?” Rannon’s quick, sexy grin, the lift of one blond eyebrow, and the lascivious twinkle in his eye said it all. At that final confirmation that Rannon truly wanted him, and that nothing stood between them or what they both longed for, the last of Shaun’s reservations fled. Some kind of primal force seemed to take control of him. It surged through his blood, setting him on fire, making his dick grow harder and his balls tighten. 123

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He pressed one hand against Rannon’s lower back and slammed his body more firmly against his own, grinding their erections together. At the same time, he buried his other hand in Rannon’s wet hair again and tugged until Rann’s face tilted up toward him. He lowered his mouth over his in a hard kiss, licking into the depths, holding nothing back. Rannon huffed out a shocked breath at the initial body slam, but then his grip on Shaun’s back tightened, his hips rolled in sensuous invitation, and he opened willingly to the new onslaught of his mouth. They both groaned as their bodies melded, chest to heaving chest, warm, hairy thighs pressing together, cocks slip-sliding in the cradle between their hipbones. Shaun’s kisses moved from Rannon’s mouth to his neck, where he licked from his jawline to his ear, and sucked hard enough to leave marks. He didn’t know why, but he wanted to mark Rannon. Felt a deep down need to make it clear that the time apart didn’t matter and Rann was still his and no one else’s. His. He savored the smooth/rough texture of his wet skin, and the blond stubble on his cheeks and chin and neck. He loved the way the artery in Rannon’s neck pulsed—hot and enticing, almost as if it were beckoning him to come closer, sample it. He couldn’t resist the allure, and sucked up a deep red mark near it, then admired it before finding a new, delectable spot. Rannon bucked against him, whimpering, as if Shaun’s mouth was creating a sizzling current racing straight to his dick. With each lick, each heated nuzzle, each long, exquisite suck, Shaun could feel Rannon’s cock throbbing against his own. He reached between them and wrapped his hand around it, squeezing. In response, Rannon let out a low moan, whispering Shaun’s name. 124

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It all gave Shaun a strange sense of power. His stomach clenched, and he still felt like something unnatural stirred beneath his skin, yet at this moment it just seemed part of the crazy hunger that drove him. He felt like he was coming alive in a way he never had before. He kissed and laved a new path, this time down Rannon’s chest, through the sexy triangle of hair on his sternum that hadn’t been there the last time they’d been this close, to the sleek light brown treasure trail leading lower. He stopped to tug and bite at each flat nipple, watching as they grew swollen and turned a deep shade of crimson, and feeling even more alive as Rannon continued to writhe and gasp out his name. And then Rannon was pushing at his shoulders, urging him down to his knees. Shaun let him have his way and found his mouth just inches from the slick length of heat jutting from Rannon’s wet groin. Shaun stared up at him, a wicked grin teasing his lips. “Are you trying to tell me something?” Rannon, whose back was to the shower spray, partially blocking it from hitting Shaun, gave him a glare. But there was no real anger in it, only sparks of lust, and something almost feral that caused Shaun’s dick to leap. “Jackass. You always were a tease,” Rannon said. “And you always liked it.” Shaun stroked a finger over the purpled head, rubbing in a drop of pre-cum that glittered at the tip. The scent of it filled his head, making his mouth water. His voice lowered. “Tell me what you want.” “It’s kinda obvious, isn’t it?” Rannon’s voice was thick with need. “If you mean this gorgeous thing”—Shaun ran a fingertip 125

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around the head, loving how Rannon’s body tensed and his entire cock bobbed in response—“it’s obvious it wants attention, yeah. But you still have to say the words because I just want to hear them.” And he did. Rannon’s voice alone did unspeakable things to him. Rannon growled in frustration. “Suck me.” Shaun couldn’t take his eyes off the hot, twitching dick that responded so eagerly to his touch. He teased his finger over the slit this time, coaxing out another drop of fluid, which he brought to his lips to sample. He’d always loved Rannon’s taste. “Say it again.” “Hellfire, Shaun,” Rannon gasped, his voice hoarse and shaking. “What do you want me to do, beg like a slut?” A shudder of need and another flare of power surged through Shaun. “Yes. I want you to beg.” He looked up at Rannon, whose face was flushed with passion. “Beg me. And tell me you thought of this during the years we were apart.” “God yes I thought of it. How could I not? You were my first, my best. Sweet Jesus, suck me already.” His eyes flashed with that feral look again. “Put your damn mouth on me, Shaun.” Gone was the shy teenage lover whom Shaun had adored. In his place was a man not afraid to say what he wanted, to make demands and expect them to be met, and Shaun found him even more exciting than the younger version. “So fucking sexy,” he murmured, before grasping Rannon’s shaft at the base and guiding the thick length into his mouth. “Oh God,” Rannon moaned as Shaun took him all the way in, until the tip of his cock pressed against the back of Shaun’s throat. Shaun looked up at him and found Rannon’s eyes had closed. His head had tipped back, exposing the line of his throat and neck, 126

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with the deep red marks Shaun had put there looking erotically dark against his skin. The expression on his face, his sensual lips parted and panting, was one of such sublime pleasure Shaun almost came. Only a quick hard squeeze at the base of his dick stopped it from happening. Fuck. The realization of how close he was from nothing more than simply watching Rannon shocked him, and made him realize just how on edge he truly had been all night. Slowly, he drew back, sucking until just the crown remained in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the ridge of it, savoring the flavor and texture, teasing the sensitive spot on the underside. Spreading the slit open, he dipped the tip of his tongue into it, where it once again leaked salty fluid. Then, in slow motion, he worked his mouth back down until his nose was buried in the wet curls of Rannon’s groin. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked. Rannon shook against him. His hands burrowed into Shaun’s hair. When Shaun slid almost off his dick once again, Rannon clawed at him to return. “Please,” he whispered. “Please, Shaun.” His hands tightened against Shaun’s head, guiding it back. Once again Shaun let him have what he wanted—he’d never been able to resist Rannon, had always given him whatever he asked for. With his hands on Rannon’s hips, he urged him to fuck his mouth. With a low groan, Rannon began to thrust, and Shaun’s closed his lips around the sleek skin and tongued him in encouragement. As Rannon sighed his appreciation, Shaun’s fingers crept around to grip Rannon’s ass cheeks. He spread them apart, exposing his hole. He knew how erotic it felt to have the damp, tight circle stretched and open to the air, and it would be even more so now with the shower hitting Rannon’s back and the warm water running down 127

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his crack. He pressed against the tight pucker of flesh with his middle finger. Even though the entrance was wet, once he pushed inside it would be dry and would sting. He did it anyway because some animalistic urge inside him liked it, and he had a sneaking suspicion Rannon would as well. He wasn’t wrong. Once his finger breached the entry, Rannon thrust back against it, taking it in to the first knuckle, then all the way. “Holy… ” Rannon gasped, his body shaking, his internal muscles clenching tight and fluttering. Shaun smiled around the dick between his lips. As Rannon fucked his mouth, faster and more urgently, Shaun finger fucked his ass, probing deep and hard, scraping against his gland and giving him no quarter as Rannon squirmed and moaned low in his throat. Shaun knew Rann was close to coming, could feel it in the way his cock grew harder, the ways his balls drew up tight in his sac, could hear it in Rannon’s pulse thrumming more and more quickly through his veins. And he could smell it—the thick, wet, hot scent of cum boiling inside Rannon, waiting to explode. All of it made Shaun almost crazy with want, with anticipation. It took everything he had to hold back and keep from exploding himself. Something ignited inside him, a flame leaping from one nerve ending to the next, setting him on fire and telling him to take what was his, to devour Rannon. He wanted to taste the hot liquid, rich and flavorful, on his tongue, wanted to feel it scalding down his throat. Wanted to lick and suck and swallow every drop of it until Rannon sobbed for him to stop because he could take no more. The scent and flavor of cum surrounded him, like a lifeblood… almost like blood itself, so necessary was it. For a moment the two scents and flavors blurred 128

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in his mind, and he wasn’t sure which he wanted more. The thought shocked him. But before he could analyze it, Rannon cried out and thrust so deeply it almost choked Shaun, making his eyes burn. And then all rational thought fled. Rannon’s orgasm was his… all his… the thick seed pumping into Shaun’s mouth and throat, leaking between his lips, and settling into his stomach with a warm heavy glow that, for a short while, caused the burning pain in his gut to ease. He swallowed and swallowed until he’d consumed the last drop, all while channeling every last reserve of control he had not to come himself. Not yet. After Rannon had spent his last, Shaun licked him clean, making sure he had everything, not wanting to waste any. When he pulled his finger out of Rannon’s ass, Rannon made a small whimper. And when Shaun stood, his body sliding upward along the other man’s, Rannon sagged against him, as if his orgasm had drained more than just his cum. Shaun wrapped an arm around him and tugged him close, until Rannon’s face was pressed against his shoulder. The warm beat of water poured over them. “Sweet Jesus,” Rannon finally murmured, his breath hot against Shaun’s skin. His hand slowly scudded down Shaun’s wet chest, over his abdomen, to his groin. He curled his fist around Shaun’s still-hard dick. Shaun sucked in a slow breath at the contact, knowing he wouldn’t be able to handle much direct stimulation before he lost it. Rannon tipped his head up and nipped at Shaun’s lips, his eyes still glazed with passion. He rolled Shaun’s cock in his hand, 129

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tugging and squeezing. “I want this,” he rasped. “You haven’t had enough yet?” That earned Shaun another one of those glares filled with the kind of heat that made his blood turn to magma. “Want this,” Rannon repeated, stroking him firmly, pushing his foreskin back, then sliding it forward again until it almost covered the head. This time it was Shaun who shuddered. Rannon’s voice grew deeper, ragged, with a thicker accent. “Want you.” A rumble built deep in Shaun’s chest. “I’ve wanted you from the moment you walked up to me at the church today. You don’t even know the things I was thinking. I wanted to rip your clothes off and fuck you right there in the rain, in front of the church, and I didn’t give a damn who saw it.” Rannon shook as that picture played out in his mind. “You didn’t even know… who I was… at the church,” he managed to say between moans as Shaun nuzzled his throat. “You didn’t remember me.” Shaun suddenly leaned back and pinned Rannon with a steamy gaze. “In my defense, you’ve grown up a bit since you were fifteen.” That brought a quick smile to Rannon’s face. “I suppose I have.” “And yet, down deep inside”—Shaun’s voice lowered and grew husky—“I still knew you somehow. Wanted you.” His teeth gnawed into Rannon’s lower lip. “So, now you have me. What are you gonna do about it?” The challenging words sent a new jolt of hunger through Shaun. “Do you have any idea what your voice does to me? How sexy it is?” 130

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Rannon’s eyebrows rose, and then his green eyes glinted with barely suppressed mischief, which only made Shaun harder. “It was your voice that got me hard first today. It’s like everything you say comes out in that sultry take me-fuck me Texas drawl,” Shaun growled. “So if I said that now”—Rannon’s accent thickened—“Take me. Fuck me, Shaun,” what would you do?”

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CHAPTER 8 In less than the beat of a heart, Shaun’s hands cupped Rannon’s ass and Rannon found himself lifted off his feet. He wrapped his legs around Shaun’s waist to keep from losing his balance, which brought Shaun’s cock, wet and gloriously erect, to bear against the part of him that ached for it. “What do you think I’d do?” Shaun’s gaze burned with need. And ownership. Which with anyone else would have ticked Rannon off, but with Shaun his body surged with heat, as if to say, God, yes, I’m yours and you can do whatever you want with me. “Is this what you want?” Shaun probed at his ass. “Shit. Yes. Do it!” He quivered, desperate to feel Shaun inside him. “Be sure, Rann, because… ” His voice grew hoarse, and a 132

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shudder wracked through him. “Because I don’t think I can stop once we start.” “Why in hell would I want you to stop?” “I just… I don’t think you have any idea how bad I want you. I feel like… Fuck!” He squeezed his eyes closed, obviously fighting for control. Sweet Jesus. The man radiated a sensuality that made Rannon’s head fog with desire. And his struggle over losing control versus trying to protect Rannon only made him sexier. It was so Shaun. Even now, when he was feeling the pull of his feral preternatural side, and in spite of the fact Rannon was no longer a kid who needed protecting, Shaun still obviously had the urge to shield Rannon from getting hurt. Rannon didn’t know whether to kiss him or whack him upside the head. And speaking of his preternatural side… Shaun’s eyes flared with a hunger that shouldn’t be possible in a man who’d been unconscious just a couple of hours earlier. Rannon knew it was the Change driving Shaun, giving him the extra energy and the resources to pursue a conquest. It was instinct, pure and powerful and finely honed. Lure the prey with seduction… and then strike. In spite of knowing that, need slammed through Rannon anew. He wanted this as much as Shaun did. He grasped Shaun’s face and drew him into a deep, unrestrained kiss. Then, easing away only far enough to be able to talk, he ordered, “Fuck me.” Shaun made a choked sound in the back of his throat. “Rann…” “Do it. Fuck me, Shaun.” Rannon didn’t know how Shaun managed it, but in a swift move, he shut off the water, jerked open the shower curtain while 133

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continuing to hold Rannon with one arm, stepped over the tub and sat Rannon on the bathroom counter while he stayed between his legs. His mouth covered Rannon’s in a hard kiss, at the same time his hand groped around on the counter, searching, and knocking things to the floor in his urgency. “My shaving kit,” Rannon gasped against Shaun’s lips. “In it.” He seemed to be channeling Shaun’s thoughts and knew he sought something to use for slick. Shaun claimed his mouth again, and without breaking the kiss, slid Rannon to the edge of the counter—not a difficult task considering he was wet and the countertop was slippery. Rannon lifted his legs and anchored them around Shaun’s hips, giving Shaun easier access to him. He heard the snick of a cap, then two of Shaun’s fingers, coated with lube, pushed into him as far as they could go. Rannon gasped, his ass lifted off the counter at the full-on invasion, and his heels dug into Shaun’s butt. Shaun didn’t linger, turning his fingers inside Rannon once, twice, three times, stretching him, but not greatly, then pulling out. Rannon was glad. He didn’t want to be coddled. He wanted to feel every inch of the stretch and burn as Shaun fucked him. Maybe it was the Fel inside him responding to the beast coming to life in Shaun. Or maybe it was just because he wanted Shaun too bad to wait. Shaun slicked his cock, and Rannon almost salivated at how it looked, bulging from his stroking hand… the head swollen and extended past the foreskin, the slit parted slightly with a glistening bead of juice seeping from it. “Still want it?” Shaun asked, his eyes dark as midnight now and his voice thick with lust. 134

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“More than ever. Do me. As deep as you can go.” Shaun hissed and his lip curled, giving Rannon a glimpse of a fang just beginning to push through his gum. The sight excited him. Shit, who would’ve thought? But on Shaun it looked right. Dangerous, yet mind-blowingly sexy. The man in question didn’t seem to be aware of it, though. His focus was centered fully on Rannon. The moment Shaun began to push into him, all Rannon’s senses zoomed in on the stinging and relentless pressure that hurt so damn good. And then came the gut tightening, incredible moment when Shaun was past the tight muscle and filling him completely. They both moaned as Shaun hit home, seated so deeply inside Rannon that Rannon could feel the pulse in Shaun’s cock against the walls of his passage. He felt full, achy, his ass unbelievably stretched, his insides heavy. “God,” he gasped out, having trouble finding breath. “You feel so good, so tight.” Shaun’s eyes were closed again. His breath came out in soft pants, and his hands holding Rannon’s hips, shook. “I can’t… Fuck, Rann, I don’t… ” Once again, Rannon knew what he meant as if he were in Shaun’s head. “Whatever you need, Shaun, I can take it. Don’t hold back.” Shaun’s eyes opened to slits, and Rannon saw the obsidian irises of a hungry Mal beginning to eclipse the blue. Anyone else probably would have been terrified, but the sight only turned Rannon on more than ever, made his dick harder, and his heart pound, not in fear, but in anticipation. He knew Shaun wasn’t yet fully through the Change, wasn’t yet capable of feeding, but when he was, Rannon would welcome it. Because this was the way it 135

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was meant to be. The Fels, for too many generations, had forgotten… but not Rannon. Somehow, down deep inside, in some part of his soul where collective memories from days long gone continued to hold sway, he knew this, with Shaun, was right and good. “Don’t hold back,” he said again, his voice firm. He reached up to cradle Shaun’s stubble-roughened cheeks between his hands, pulling his face close. “I want this as much as you do,” he whispered. “Do it.” He sensed the final wall inside Shaun break down. And then, with a growl, Shaun’s grip on Rannon’s hips tightened, and he pounded into Rannon’s ass with powerful, stabbing strokes. He reamed him without mercy, over and over and over until Rannon could do little more than cling to him and let the surging pleasure and pain, pain and pleasure blur together and sweep him away. Even with the shower off, the bathroom was still steamy and hot. But nothing could compare to the heat Shaun was generating. Rannon felt surrounded by it, consumed by it. He could barely breathe, and certainly couldn’t think. All he could do was feel, and he lost himself in the overwhelming sensations. Shaun paused and dragged Rannon even closer to him. He pushed Rannon’s legs against his chest, then resumed with ferocity. In the new position, Rannon could feel Shaun more deeply than ever, and each thrust nailed his prostate, sending jolts of shock through him. Shaun was over him, in him, surrounding him until Rannon didn’t know what was Shaun any longer and what was him. He heard himself moaning, and he had no control over it. His entire body trembled. His heart pounded. His every breath 136

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was a whimper. “Shaun,” he moaned. “Oh, God… Shaun… Shaun.” Shaun leaned down into him and kissed him, if you could call it that. It was more of a brand, searing into him, claiming him. Mine, it said. Rannon’s cock, riding the friction between his and Shaun’s sweat-slicked abdomens, pulsed. He was going to come again. Oh, God… he was going to come again now. As Shaun’s fucking grew more intense, splitting his ass with thrusts that vibrated all the way from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes, Rannon’s balls drew up tight, flames spread from the base of his spine into his dick, and, with a strangled cry, he lost it, his release flooding out between them. With a growl, Shaun buried his face in Rannon’s neck, his mouth hot against the skin. Rannon tensed, wondering if Shaun was about to bite him. He waited, his breath tight in his chest, anticipating the pain—not afraid of it, but shocked that Shaun was at the point of needing to feed already. However, instead of the sharp sting of teeth, he felt suction, hot and hard. Shaun was marking him again. But this time it was so intense, so electrifying, new streams of cum shot from Rannon’s shaft in response, and he cried out again, clinging to Shaun and arching his back. At the same time, Shaun’s body spasmed against his and he thrust deeply… once, twice, three times, slamming Rannon hard into the mirror behind him as he came. Rannon swore he felt each burst of Shaun’s scalding seed as it coated his insides. He’d never experienced anything so powerful. 137

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And, in that moment of blissful and utter surrender, he’d also never felt closer to another person. Spent at last, Shaun slumped on top of him, his body warm and heavy, his face still against Rannon’s neck, his breathing rough and fast. He gave a deep shudder. Rannon stroked Shaun’s hair. He still wasn’t quite able to separate what was him and what was Shaun with their bodies so close and connected. He let himself float. But the peaceful moment didn’t last. Shaun suddenly stiffened—his entire body—as if he’d been shocked with a jolt of high voltage current. “What is it?” Rannon asked, concern edging in past his languor. Shaun made a choked sound… and then began to tremble. Rannon’s sex-hazed senses scrambled to clear as he realized something was really wrong. A knot of fear formed in his gut. “Shaun?” He pushed at Shaun’s shoulders, trying to get him to raise up so he could see him. Shaking, Shaun pushed himself up onto his hands and stared down at Rannon with a look caught somewhere between panic and nausea. His face, which should have been flushed from exertion and sated passion, was chalk white. His eyes, once again their normal blue color, were bloodshot… and damp, which caused Rannon’s heart to twist. “Shaun, talk to me.” Shaun’s gaze moved to Rannon’s throat, which he touched with tentative fingers. Pain flashed on his face. “Rann… ” The word came out like old, rusty metal almost at its breaking point. He slid free of Rannon’s body and straightened up—his movements careful, as if he didn’t want to hurt Rannon, but quick, 138

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like he was desperate to put space between them. Rannon sat up and tried to touch him, but Shaun backed away. “Shaun, please, you’ve got to talk to me. What’s goin’ on?” He had a sick feeling it had to do with the Change, but until Shaun explained, he couldn’t be sure and didn’t want to say or do anything to make things worse. Shaun was breathing hard now. He reached down and grabbed his clothes off the floor with one hand, while the other was already reaching for the doorknob. Another shudder tore through him. “Rannon… I’m so sorry.” And then he yanked open the door and disappeared through it. Rannon slid off the counter to go after him, but missed the bath mat and his foot slipped on the wet tile floor. He barely caught himself before he cracked his head open on the counter. His heart pounding, he jerked a towel off the rack and quickly dried himself of water and cum. His legs felt weak and shaky. His ass felt like he might not be able to sit down for a week. And yet he had no regrets about what had just happened between him and Shaun—my God, how could he? It had been amazing. It was the look on Shaun’s face afterward that was tearing him up. He threw the towel on the floor and without bothering with clothes, fled the bathroom, needing to see Shaun, catch him before he did anything stupid… like leave. Shaun was still in danger, and if he left the cabin, Rannon would have an infinitely harder time protecting him. He hadn’t left yet, though, thank God. Shaun stood on the opposite side of the room near the kitchen, yanking his shorts up his long legs. His back was turned to Rannon, but Rannon could see he was still trembling, hard. 139

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He approached Shaun on silent feet, his Fel traits bleeding over to his human form even more when he was stressed. Shaun seemed oblivious to his presence. When he was close enough to touch him, Rannon reached out to rest a hand on Shaun’s shoulder. But Shaun turned before he made contact. His eyes widened when he saw Rannon so close, and he once again backed away, putting several arm lengths of distance between them. “Don’t. Just stay back, Rannon.” His voice was hoarse. “We need to talk.” “No.” Shaun shook his head vigorously, and his eyes took on a cornered animal brightness. He held up a hand as if to hold Rannon at bay. “Stay where you are.” “What’s going on? Don’t shut me out, please. Just tell me.” Shaun winced. “Please, Shaun.” “I… I don’t want to hurt you.” Oh, no. As he’d feared, this was about the Change. Shaun must have scared himself with his own intensity in the bathroom—Mal intensity, which he didn’t understand. Rannon’s chest ached for him. And why the hell wouldn’t it scare him? Rannon’s judgmental inner voice said. You haven’t bothered yet to tell him the truth, then you got him all sexually fired up. What did you think was gonna happen? Rannon’s shoulders sagged, and he drew in a deep breath, trying to tamp down the guilt that rose up to choke him. But it was too late to beat himself up over how he should have handled things earlier in the night. Now all he could do was try to ease Shaun into his new reality. “It’s gonna be okay,” he told Shaun, keeping his voice calm. 140

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He moved closer, just a slow step this time, but that only caused Shaun to back up again. “No, it is not fucking going to be okay.” “Yes, it is.” “Will you stop saying that?” Shaun shouted. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I lost it in there, Rannon. I don’t know what happened to me. It’s like I became someone else, like my thoughts and actions weren’t my own and someone or something else was driving my body. Look what I did to you.” He pointed to Rannon’s neck, which, admittedly, stung like hell, but it was the kind of pain that caused a warm surge in his groin even now. Then Shaun’s gaze and pointing finger moved lower. Rannon looked down, suddenly and acutely aware of his own nudity. He had no idea what Shaun had found issue with on his lower half. Until he spied the bruises in the perfect shape of fingerprints blooming against the pale skin of his hips. “I was out of control,” Shaun murmured, shaking his head. “In my right mind I would never have done anything to hurt you. I was like… like some kind of animal.” “You didn’t do anything that I didn’t want you to do, Shaun. I’m the one who told you not to hold back, remember?” “You don’t understand.” He turned his back on Rannon again, swaying on his feet like it was all he could do to stay upright. “I do understand. More than you know.” “No, you don’t.” Shaun swallowed hard. “It’s not just the things I did to you,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s also the other things I wanted to do, the things I barely managed to keep in check.” His voice cracked. “That’s what scares the shit out of me. You have no idea, Rann. If you did, you’d be far, far away 141

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from me by now.” Oh God. Understanding about what had happened in the bathroom came to Rannon in perfect clarity. And it was so unfair. Shaun was a good man, a protector, not a villain, yet he was cursed with being born into a race of bloodthirsty creatures. Doyle should have prepared him for this and not left him in the dark—he could think of nothing crueler than Doyle abandoning Shaun to this fate with no knowledge, no coping skills. Damn the man! Now it was left to Rannon to pick up the pieces and somehow make it okay. “There at the end,” he said softly. “You wanted to bite me, didn’t you? Bite me and drink from me.” Shaun’s head whipped around and he stared at Rannon wide eyed. “How… How did you… There’s no way you could know… ” “Yes, there is. Because I know what’s happening to you, Shaun.” “What do you mean you know? I don’t even know. I think… I think maybe I’m really, really sick and… and it’s making me do things… ” “You’re not sick. It’s something else.” Rannon scuffed a tired hand over his face. “I wish I could stop this and make it go away. You have no idea how much I wish I could. But I can’t, and I hate it.” Shaun’s expression suddenly turned accusing. “Did you do something to me? Did you… poison me or brainwash me or something to make me feel and act this way? Is that why you say you know what’s happening, and why you’re acting all guilty?” Shock rippled through Rannon. “My God! No! No, Shaun, I would never hurt you. That’s the Mal in you talkin’ now. I came here because I wanted to help you. I wanted to keep you safe.” 142

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Now Shaun’s face creased with confusion. And more pain. Always the pain. “What did you just call me and what the hell are you talking about?” “You’re changing. Your body is changing.” A sigh ripped from Rannon’s chest. “That’s why you’ve been feelin’ so crappy all day and tonight. It’s in your blood. Your species live a normal human life until around their thirtieth birthday, and then things change. You become something… more.” “My species?” Shaun looked both frantic and furious at this point, his chest heaving like he couldn’t get enough air, like he wanted nothing more than to run as fast and as far as he could. His gaze, cold now, zeroed in on Rannon. “What happened to you, Rannon? I feel like I don’t even know you anymore with all this crazy talk.” The words caused a dull ache in Rannon because it was true. Shaun didn’t know him, not all of him anyway. “I can explain.” Rannon moved toward him again, this time determined not to let Shaun evade him. As Rannon advanced, Shaun backed up… until he was pinned against the kitchen counter. Rannon saw it in his eyes the moment Shaun realized there was no escape except through him. “Stay back!” Shaun said. “I know you’re freaked, and you have every right to be. But it’s gonna be okay.” He reached for Shaun again and this time got his hand on Shaun’s cheek. Shaun flinched. And then his nostrils suddenly flared and he hissed in a breath. His gaze fixed on Rannon, burning into him. “You!” The hard stare startled Rannon. He dropped his hand from Shaun’s face. “What?” 143

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Shaun leaned closer to him and sniffed. Actually sniffed, like an animal, like Rannon did in his Fel form to get the lay of the land. He held his ground, letting Shaun do it, but his Fel, perceiving a threat, stirred at his core. A tingling began at the base of Rannon’s spine as his body prepared to shift, if needed, for protection. “Shaun?” he said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “Blood,” Shaun whispered, his tone rough, his breath hot against Rannon’s skin. He leaned back and glowered at Rannon. “I smell blood on you!” The last came out as a growl. Oh shit. Rannon ran a mental scan of himself, trying to figure out where it was coming from. He narrowed in on the dull throb on his back, just above his left shoulder blade—where the Fel he’d fought earlier today had torn a chunk out of him. Rannon had thought it had mostly closed over, but the wound must have broken open again when Shaun was pounding into him on the bathroom counter. “Why are you doing this to me?” Shaun said, his voice more beast than human. As Rannon watched, his eyes grew dark, taking on the distinctive Mal obsidian, and his fangs let down. “I’m not doing anything,” Rannon said, trying to talk over the rapid tattoo of his heart banging inside his chest. “This is… ” God, why did this have to be so hard? “This is how it works. I told you, you’re changing. You’re going to need to feed soon.” “No.” Shaun shook his head. “Yes, you’ll have to.” “No, no… you don’t understand,” Shaun growled, his eyes looking scarily bright, eager almost. “I don’t need it soon.” His lips curled in a savage sneer. “I need it now!” Without warning, he lunged for Rannon. 144

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Raw instinct propelled Rannon back away from him in the nick of time. His heart pounded and his Fel shimmered, beginning to claw up his spine. With difficulty, he managed to suppress the shift. Shifting now would only freak Shaun out more. He had to think fast, though, because in this frenzy, not understanding who he was or what he was capable of, if Shaun bit him and fed from him, he could easily drain Rannon to the point of death. Shit. Shit! I need more time! Shaun shocked him, however, by suddenly stopping himself. His muscles clenched as if they were in singular agony. His face tightened into the same sickly panicked expression he’d worn earlier. His eyes widened, and the black faded back to a troubled sapphire blue. Rannon breathed a sigh of relief and started toward Shaun again. But Shaun planted his palm in the center of Rannon’s chest and shoved him with a startling amount of force. Rannon fell, landing hard on the wood floor several yards away. He looked up at Shaun, confusion and hurt tangling inside him. “I’m sorry, but… you… you have to stay away from me,” Shaun said, his voice shaking. “I don’t trust myself. It’s taking… ” He sucked in a deep, rattling breath. His face twisted in pain again. “It’s taking all my self-control not to… ” Another grimace. “Not to hurt you.” Rannon pulled himself to his feet, rubbing his shoulder, which had taken the brunt of the fall. “Shaun—” “No. I mean it, Rannon. You can’t trust me. You need to leave this cabin. Now.” “I’m not goin’. I do trust you and you’re not gonna hurt me.” Without taking his gaze off Shaun, he reached for his duffel bag, which was only an arm’s length away, yanked out whatever shirt 145

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his hand touched on, and pulled it over his head. He didn’t really think it would help much to cover the scent of blood, but he had to try. He had to keep Shaun calm long enough to explain. He followed the shirt with a pair of sweats. “Rannon… ” Another growl. A warning. “I’m not leavin’ you.” “Goddamn it!” It was almost a sob this time. “I’m not leavin’,” Rannon reiterated. “I came here to protect you and that’s what I’m gonna do.” “Protect? You’re the one who needs—” Shaun suddenly clutched his stomach, his face turned a sickly shade of greenish white, and he doubled over. He let out a piercing moan that turned Rannon’s insides to ice. Rannon reached his side in a few fast steps and knelt next to him. “Shaun? Tell me what it is.” “Stay away!” “No, damn it! Get over it, because I’m not goin’ anywhere. Tell me what’s wrong.” “I… Oh God… I think I’m going to be sick,” Shaun murmured. “It hurts… God, it hurts! Like something’s… eating me… from the inside.” He sank to one knee, and then the other. His breathing came out in quick, hard pants, faster and faster and faster… unnaturally fast. “Can’t… breathe… ” “You’re hyperventilating.” Fear clogging his throat, Rannon rubbed Shaun’s back. “Try to relax. Breathe slowly.” He’d never been around a newly changed Mal—and Rannon realized now that somewhere along the line, maybe because the sex had accelerated it, Shaun had crossed the barrier, and what was driving him at this point was not the Change, but rather full-on Mal blood craving. The problem was, because he’d never seen a new 146

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Mal before, only heard about them, Rannon had no idea if what was happening to Shaun was normal or if there was something really wrong with him and this was bad. “Breathe, Shaun. Breathe with me, babe. You need to calm down, then you need to feed.” “N-No. I c-can’t.” “You have to. Blood’s the only thing that’s gonna make you better now. If you’re careful, you can do it without… ” He grimaced, not wanting to saying it aloud because it made it too stark a possibility. “W-Without… k-killing you? Is that… wh-what you’re trying to say?” The expression on Shaun’s face was one of utter horror and his breathing grew even more labored. Rannon wrapped his arms around Shaun and pressed a kiss against his temple. “You can do it. I trust you. Take what you need.” Rannon just prayed that if Shaun couldn’t stop himself, he’d be able to stop Shaun before he went too far. He’d known eventually it would come to this, had fully intended to be the one Shaun fed from when the time came. He just hadn’t expected it to happen so soon, without having time to explain everything. “No!” Shaun said more sharply this time. His breathing sounded awful—sharp and wheezing, and his skin color looked worse. “C-can’t. W-won’t.’ His face turned up to Rannon’s and the raw fear in the blue depths turned Rannon’s gut inside out. “Rann… ” “I’m here. Please, Shaun, you have to do this.” “Won’t… hurt you… again,” Shaun whispered. And then his body convulsed, his eyes closed, and with another soul-wrenching moan, his slumped unconscious in Rannon’s arms. 147

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CHAPTER 9 Shaun’s dreams were full of darkness. And pain. He couldn’t outrun either. He’d tried, but over and over again, they chased him through the shadows, finding him in every corner, down every path, where his subconscious mind tried to hide. He felt like he’d been running for hours, days, weeks—he didn’t know because it all bled together. Yet no matter where he’d been or what he’d seen in this place of illusion, he always circled back around to where he was now, teetering on the brink of some deep abyss. Afraid to stay where he was, but even more terrified to jump into the murky unknown of whatever lay below. Ghouls and demons, monsters and fiends had led him from one horrific nightmare to the next, taunting him. And just like it had 148

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been when he was younger and had devoured all the horror novels he could find in spite of how much they’d scared him, he felt like he was searching for something. Some elusive something that might offer up a grain of meaning, that might help him understand. But just like the novels, all he’d found here so far was confusion and paralyzing fear. As much as he despised it here in this dark land of horrors, he couldn’t bring himself to return to the other side either. The nondream side. Because there, the light that seared into him like a piercing and jagged bolt of lightning, that revealed him for what he really was, held nothing but more pain. There, everything he’d ever known had grown hazy, taken over by a new, sharp-edged reality that cut through him to the core, tearing him apart to his very cells, and putting him back together as something he didn’t even want to contemplate. A Frankenstein, created by the humorless genius of his own genetic code. There, on the side with the light, the sharp edges hurt too much. And all he had to look forward to, and to offer, was more pain. And not just for him. His presence there threatened… someone… He grasped for the ephemeral thread that would tell him who the someone was, but missed it as it floated just out of reach. He just knew it was someone important. Someone he couldn’t bear to put in danger. Except therein lay the problem. Because it appeared that no matter which side he chose, danger stalked him anyway. It was all around him. And no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape it. Just like the pain. And so he sank into a new nightmare… *

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The noise woke him. Something loud and clanging. It sounded like the big bell, the “dinner gong” Mama always called it, hanging on the back porch. For several seconds he lay still, rubbing his favorite blue blanket against his cheek. He liked how the satin edge of it felt. He used to hold it against his face while he sucked his thumb, but the first day of kindergarten last month, when Matty Jablonski told him only babies sucked their thumbs, he’d come home and informed Mama he was done with it. ’Cause if Matty said it, then it must be true. He liked school, liked his teacher, Mrs. Heuton, ’cause she told funny knock-knock jokes and always smelled nice, and she always read him stories and helped him with the ones where he could pick out the words. The last thing he wanted, now that he was a big boy, was to be called a baby at school. And so he’d forced himself to keep his thumb out of his mouth. Well, except for sometimes, when he was really scared or feeling sad, then he’d sneak a suck when no one was looking. But that was almost never. Tonight, as he lay in his warm bed with only the glow from his Luke Skywalker nightlight shining on his bedroom walls, he clutched his blankie and wondered about the bell on the porch. He also wondered if having a blankie was babyish, too. Maybe he’d just never, ever tell Matty Jablonski about his blankie so he wouldn’t have to hear that it might not be okay for big boys to have one. He started to get sleepy again and his eyes closed. Until he heard something else. This time a banging noise, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. A few seconds later, his bedroom door opened and Mama squeezed through it, then shut it 150

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behind her. “Mama?” he said sitting up. “Shhh, baby.” She kissed him on the head, but it wasn’t like her usual kisses, all smiley and laughing. This one was serious, and she looked funny. Not ha-ha funny, but strange funny. “I need you to get out of bed and put your slippers on, baby.” “Are we goin’ somewhere?” “Shhh, you have to whisper. Get your slips on. Quickly, now.” She knelt next to the bed, picked up his fuzzy bear slippers from the floor one at a time, and helped him put them on. Then she held his hand as he got out of bed. “Where are we going?” he asked, remembering to whisper like she’d asked. “Do you want your blanket?” She held it out to him and he nodded and took it, clutching it to his chest. “Hurry now.” Something was wrong. He didn’t know what, except that Mama was smiling but it didn’t look like her usual smile. It was tight and her eyes were red like she’d been crying or was about to cry. Instead of leading him to the bedroom door like he thought she would, she opened his closet door and knelt down next to him so she was looking in his eyes. She pulled him into a quick hug where her long dark hair tickled his cheek, then she kissed his forehead. “Mama, what’s the matter?” “We’re going to… play a little game, okay?” Her voice sounded funny, too. Funny like her smile. He nodded. “Good. I need you to crawl into your closet, Shauny, all the way in the back behind the shoes and clothes, and stay there, okay? 151

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No talking. No coming out. You need to stay there until Daddy or I come to get you. Do you understand?” His chest got all tight and he felt tears welling up in his eyes. He knew it was babyish to cry, just like it was to suck your thumb, ’cause Matty Jablonski said that, too. But he didn’t like the way Mama looked. And he didn’t want to go into his closet. He didn’t know why, he just knew he didn’t. “Shauny, listen to me.” Mama looked at him, her face and eyes so kind, and stroked his hair. “It’s just for a little while. It’s important. And no matter what you might hear, you need to stay put until Daddy or I come for you. Can you do that for me, baby? It would make Mama so proud if you would.” He wanted to make Mama proud. He liked making her and Daddy happy. So even though he was scared and he didn’t like it, he nodded again, trying to keep from letting his tears leak out. “Good boy. That’s my darling.” She smiled and kissed him again. He thought he felt her shaking as she turned him around and nudged him into the closet. Shaun crawled all the way to the back like she said. “Here.” She pulled a couple of coats off hangers, and a couple of pillows and extra sheets from the shelf, and piled them on the floor in front of him in a big jumble She tugged and pushed, arranging them carefully, even though, to him, now they just looked like a pile of laundry that he could barely see over. He watched her wide-eyed, wondering why she was doing it. “Remember, baby… stay here.” “Is this like hide-n-seek, Mama?” “Yes. Just like that. Now shhh. Stay as quiet as a mouse. Stay hidden. Don’t come out.” She backed out of the closet and started to shut the door. 152

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“Mama!” “It’ll be okay, Shauny. I’ll be back for you before you know it. I love you, little man.” “Love you, too,” he whispered. But she’d already shut the door. It was dark in the closet with the door closed. Much darker than he liked. He could see a slit of light at the bottom of the door, though, from his nightlight out in his room. So he stared at it, hoping it would make him feel better. Mama sang him a song sometimes, about a little light and letting it shine. He didn’t really know what it meant—stuff about Satan and Jesus and bushels. What was a bushel, he wondered? But he liked the tune, and he liked Mama’s voice. And he liked the bit about the light and how it would shine all over the whole wide world. So he imagined that light shining from under the door, and how it would look if it lit up his whole closet. He started to hum the song, but then remembered Mama told him to stay quiet. How long before Mama or Daddy came to get him? A loud thumping noise somewhere in the house startled him and he forgot all about the song. The thump was followed by a bang that made the floor shake. And then he heard shouting. He cringed back against the wall, pulling his knees up to this chest. He didn’t know what the voices were saying, but he thought he heard Mama’s voice and someone else’s. It wasn’t Daddy because Daddy was working late tonight, talking to parents about their kids at his school where he was a teacher. That’s what Mama had said at dinnertime. There was more loud banging, and something hit the wall inside the house. He heard a crash. He lifted his blanket up and burrowed his face into it. He didn’t like the noises. Didn’t like them at all. 153

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Another bang, and then more shouting. “Please stop,” he whispered. He knew he wasn’t supposed to talk, but he didn’t like this. He wanted to go back to his bed. Wanted Mama to come tuck him in and kiss him and make all this other stuff go away. The floor shook again. And then he heard a scream. Mama’s scream. It was the most awful thing he’d ever heard, going on and on and on. Tears burned in Shaun’s eyes and slid down his cheeks. “Please stop, please stop,” he cried, making sure he kept his voice a whisper, but not able to keep the words from coming out. Except he had to stop the words because he’d promised. Mama’s screaming suddenly cut off, and everything went quiet. His thumb crept up and slid into his mouth, and that and the satin on his blankie started to make him feel better. A little. Sniffling, he used his blanket to wipe his eyes. He had to do what Mama said. Stay quiet and stay put. Except… ever since her scream, Shaun hadn’t heard Mama again. Hadn’t heard anything. Did that mean he could come out now? No, Mama said to wait. I’ll be back for you before you know it, she’d said. And so he stayed where he was. He heard his bedroom door open, and his heart started beating really hard. Was it Mama finally coming to get him? He popped his thumb out of his mouth and crawled toward the closet door. If he opened it just a little, he’d be able to see who was in his room. He reached for the knob and turned it very, very slowly, then pushed open the door a tiny bit. Just enough he could see through the long, narrow crack. 154

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But it wasn’t Mama in his room. Or Daddy. The only person he could see was a tall skinny man with red hair that stuck up all over his head, and he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He was looking at Shaun’s Star Wars figures on the shelf under the window. His back was to the closet, so he hadn’t seen Shaun, but the sight still terrified Shaun. He jerked back out of sight and clung to his blankie even tighter, scared to breathe because what if the man heard him? “Little kid… I know you’re here. Come on out and see me,” the man said. His voice sounded like he’d been eating gravel and it had left a bad taste in his mouth. Shaun didn’t like the sound. He wanted to crawl back behind the nest of stuff Mama had made so he could hide better, but he was scared to move, just like he was scared to breathe. He didn’t know this man and he didn’t like strangers. He didn’t know why the man was in his room and not Mama. “Come on, kid. Come on out. We can play with your toys. Your old lady said it was okay.” Shaun didn’t know any old ladies. He didn’t even have any grandmas like some of the kids at school did, so he didn’t know what the man was talking about. And besides, even if he did, he didn’t like this man. He didn’t want to come out and play toys with him. “Come on, you little shit! I know you’re in here. Shall we see if you’re under the bed?” Shaun still held his breath except for letting himself take a very short one sometimes when he thought he couldn’t last another second. Where was Mama? And when would Daddy be home? He started to cry again. He pressed his blankie against his mouth, trying to keep the sounds from coming out. 155

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“Not under the bed,” he heard the man say. “Playing hide-nseek, eh? I’m going to find you, you know? So where shall I look next? I know, how ’bout… the closet!” He said it as if he were playing a fun birthday party game. Except this wasn’t a party and Shaun wasn’t having any fun at all. He pressed his blankie tighter to his mouth, but couldn’t stop crying. He knew Mama would be disappointed, but he was so scared. He didn’t even care if Matty Jablonski found out. Knowing he had to get better hidden, he scrambled back into the depths of the closet and tried to bunch up some of Mama’s pile of stuff again to hide himself. He snatched his hands back and hunkered down into the dark shadows just in time, as the closet door swung open all the way. Mama, please… please… please, Shaun silently mouthed. He knew she couldn’t hear him, but he thought maybe it might work like a prayer, like they said the few times Mama and Daddy had taken him to the big church down the road. “Come out, come out, kid. I know you’re in here. I hear you.” Shaun tried to hold his breath again, trying to be silent as a mouse, but tiny little huffing and sniffling noises kept escaping past his blankie. He could see the man now over the pile of stuff on the floor, standing in the doorway of the closet. He was so tall, taller even than Daddy. “And now I see you,” the man said. He started toward Shaun. He was smiling, but it wasn’t a nice smile. Shaun knew, just knew, that the man didn’t want to play toys with him. The front door of the house opened and closed. Shaun heard Daddy’s voice call, “Kelly, I’m home!” 156

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The man in the closet instantly jerked his head toward the bedroom door, forgetting about Shaun. And then Shaun heard Daddy again. “Kelly… Kelly! Oh my God! No, no, nooooo!” The bad man, still standing in the closet doorway, laughed. Daddy’s sobs carried through the house and made Shaun cry harder. He’d never seen or heard Daddy cry before. And then he heard Daddy’s footsteps pounding in the hallway. He was running toward Shaun’s room. “Shaun?” he called. “Son, answer me!” Shaun wanted to, but the man turned to him with a mean look. He stepped farther into the closet, closer to Shaun, and put his finger over his lips and shook his head. Shaun felt like he might choke he was so scared. Tears slid down his face, soaking his blankie and the knees of his PJs. “Shaun? Shauny?” Daddy was coming into the bedroom now. His voice sounded scared, and he never called him Shauny—only Mama did that. He wanted so bad to answer, to run past the big naked man and fall into Daddy’s arms. But the bad man gave him another hateful look, and Shaun knew he wouldn’t make it to Daddy. The man would grab him as soon as he stood. “Shaun?” Daddy’s voice was low now, almost a whisper. Shaun couldn’t see him yet, but knew he was close, just on the other side of the open closet door. The bad man tensed. And then, as Shaun watched in shock, the man’s body sort of shimmered like the heat on the road in the summertime, and began to change. He bent over and slid to his 157

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hands and knees, his legs bent and got shorter, his arms turned into more legs, and his feet and hands became huge paws. His face changed from a man to an animal with sharp teeth and a large mouth, and fur covered his body. So scared he could hardly breathe, Shaun began to shake like he did when he sometimes got a fever. What was happening? Was this a terrible, terrible dream? A low growl rumbled up from the man-lion’s throat. And then it sprang out of the closet on powerful legs and attacked Daddy. Daddy must not have seen it coming because he fell onto the floor on his back with the big cat on top of him. The lion snarled and growled and tried to get its mouth on Daddy’s neck, but Daddy fought hard, twisting and turning, hitting it. They rolled on the floor, crashing into the bed, the dresser, the little table where Shaun sat to color. Toys toppled off the dresser and shelves, and a plastic bucket fell to the floor, spilling rainbow colored pencils everywhere. The sounds Daddy and the animal made were awful, terrifying. Shaun hid his face in his blankie again. “Please, please, please make it stop,” he sobbed. He was afraid for Daddy. After a while, things grew quiet in his room, with only a few hisses and bumps, so he dared a look. The lion was gone and the red-headed man sat on top of Daddy, holding his hand to Daddy’s throat. Shaun was glad he hadn’t had to watch him change back from the animal to the man because he didn’t want to ever see that again. Daddy lay only a few feet from the closet door. He didn’t look very good and that scared Shaun. “Why shift back? Why didn’t you finish me off?” Daddy said to the man, his voice all whispery-choky sounding. His mouth 158

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looked… funny. Like his teeth weren’t right. But Shaun couldn’t see his face very well. “I just wanted to savor the moment,” the bad man said, another one of those evil smiles twisting his face. “And I wanted to tell you what a sweet treat your little wife was. She screamed, you know? And begged.” “You filthy piece of Fel shit,” Daddy croaked and began to struggle again. The man only laughed and held Daddy’s throat even tighter. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. She didn’t beg for her life… she begged for yours and the kid’s. Said to take her but to please leave you two alone. It was very touching.” Daddy made a choking sound. “How sweet that your little human wife tried to stand up for you. Did she even know what you are, leech, or did you keep it a secret from her? Did you tell her that when you were ‘working late’ you were really out hunting humans, drinking their blood, and leaving their bodies to rot?” More choking. “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” the man said, answering his own question. Shaun’s eyes burned and more tears ran out of them. He didn’t understand what the man was saying, and he didn’t want to. Stuff about blood and secrets and bad things. He thought the man was saying bad things about Daddy, but that couldn’t be. Daddy was always nice. Daddy began to struggle harder. “Oh, I’m so scared,” the man said. “The big bad leech is going to eat me up. If you’re so tough, then how come you weren’t here to save your wife? How come you left her and your kid alone and 159

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unprotected when you knew one of us would come for you?” That just brought a new round of Daddy’s furious struggling. The man didn’t seem to care, though, ’cause he kept talking. “Once I finish you off, I’ll take care of your boy in the closet, and then the world’ll be rid of another pile of Mal garbage. Goodbye and good riddance. Of course I have to wonder if your boy’ll scream like your wife did as I tear him open.” Shaun squeaked in fear. He thought Daddy must have heard him because Daddy’s head turned toward the closet and, even though Shaun didn’t think Daddy could really see him… he could now see Daddy’s face clearly. No! A scream burned in the back of Shaun’s throat and he shrank farther back against the closet wall. Daddy looked… wrong. Something was wrong with his eyes. They were all black, like Darth Vader’s helmet. And his teeth were sharp and pointed, like the lion’s had been, except worse. “Shaun… don’t… watch,” the man who looked like Daddy choked out. But Shaun was too terrified not to look. What had happened to his daddy? This scary creature wasn’t him. Couldn’t be. Daddy lifted a hand from where it had been feeling around on the floor. He held a colored pencil, or maybe more than one. The bad man wasn’t paying attention and when Daddy stabbed the pointed end of the pencils into his leg, hard, the bad man screamed and released Daddy’s neck. As quick as he did, Daddy grabbed the man and flipped him over so that Daddy was the one on top. And then with a growling noise, Daddy bent down and tore into the man with his long, sharp teeth. Now the man was the one making choking noises, terrible 160

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ones, and screaming at the same time. Shaun scrambled farther back into the closet and turned his face into the corner so he didn’t have to look anymore. He shook all over, and couldn’t stop his own screams from bubbling up out of his throat. He didn’t know how long the horrible, horrible noises went on. But finally they stopped. Several seconds passed. Then he heard someone in the closet with him. He tried to wedge himself farther into the corner. “Shaun, it’s okay. It’s Daddy.” He felt hands on his arms, rubbing them. And then they were gently tugging him out of the corner. Shaun fought against them. “No… no! No!” “Shhh, it’s okay, Shaun. We need to get you out of here.” “The bad man… ” “He can’t hurt you anymore.” Shaun finally sneaked a peek at Daddy and was so relieved to see that his eyes were their normal blue and his mouth looked normal, too. But then he ducked his head again, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how Daddy had looked before, and it made him shiver. Daddy pulled him into his arms, even with him still struggling, and stood. “Look at me, Shaun. Keep your eyes on me and don’t look anywhere else so you don’t have to be scared.” But he didn’t want to look at Daddy ’cause Daddy had scared him, too. Almost as much as the bad man had. He didn’t like the way Daddy smelled—not like he usually did. And there was something warm and wet all over him that smelled bad, too. Daddy petted his head and Shaun finally looked at him again. 161

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Daddy’s eyes were wet from crying. “It’s okay, son. I know it’s been a rough night, but it’s all over and no one’s going to hurt you. I won’t let anybody hurt you. I promise.” “I want to see Mama,” Shaun whimpered. Daddy seemed to stiffen. “Mama’s… sleeping right now, son. Now close your eyes and don’t look until we get out of the house. Keep them closed tight.” Shaun did because it was easier that way, ’cause then he didn’t have to look at Daddy either. Daddy carried him through the house. But when they got to the front door and he heard Daddy opening it, he couldn’t help himself. He opened his eyes and looked over Daddy’s shoulder. He saw Mama, still and silent, stretched out on the living room floor on her tummy, her hands out to her sides, her long dark hair tangled around her head. Her face was turned away from him, but red stains covered her blue flowered shirt and the white carpet around her. And in that moment he knew Mama wouldn’t come tuck him in ever again. *

*

*

Struggling to claw his way out of the nightmare, dawning terror filled Shaun. Terror so awful he couldn’t breathe. His chest ached from it and his throat closed off as if a clawed hand squeezed it tight. Finally, he understood, and the truth was far worse than any illusion. Nothing he’d seen had been a dream. This was his life and these were his memories. Old ones, filled 162

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with horror and heartache, that he’d hidden away into the darkest cavern of his mind, never to be revisited. But somehow they’d found their way out. The other side, it seemed, had torn down the barrier between his two realities, blurring them and making them one. There would be no more running or hiding. No more trying to escape. Now, he had no choice but to leap into the great unknown abyss.

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CHAPTER 10 Rannon stood on the cabin porch in the deepening evening shadows, reaching out with his senses—listening, watching, alert to the scents alive in the woods around him. As he concentrated, he turned up the collar of his wool coat and tugged it more closely around his neck for warmth. It hadn’t rained again since last night, but the temperature had remained unseasonably cold all day. Though it wasn’t dark yet, probably wouldn’t be for an hour or so, the sky hung low, a foreboding steel gray, and the air was damp and heavy, as if it might start pouring any minute. The atmosphere only added to the heaviness in his heart. He’d had a niggling feeling all day that trouble lurked on the horizon. He tried to tell himself his unease came from being so worried about Shaun. But it was more than that. He couldn’t put 164

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his finger on what or why, he just knew his Fel senses were tingling, and that seldom meant anything good. He was about to turn and go back into the cabin, when he heard the sound of a car in the distance. He paused and listened. It was coming up the mountain, getting closer. His Fel shimmered, an instinctive defensive reaction, but he kept it tamped down for the moment, wanting to have a better feel for who or what approached before he went all native. If it was the sheriff again, he couldn’t afford for her to catch him in Fel form. Especially since she suspected Doyle McCarry had been killed by some kind of cat. As the car engine noise grew louder, however, Rannon’s tension ratcheted up. He took several steps back to the cabin door and, after a quick glance inside to reassure himself Shaun wasn’t in imminent danger, pulled the door closed. He didn’t want anyone else around Shaun right now. Not that Shaun was in any condition to hurt anybody at the moment, but Rannon couldn’t take a chance on someone seeing Shaun’s state, which was clearly not human. His stomach churned as worry for Shaun almost made him ill. It had been close to twenty hours since Shaun had passed out in Rannon’s arms, and he still hadn’t come around. To say Rannon was terrified over that fact would be an understatement. He’d spent the past twenty hours watching the man he’d been in love with since he was fifteen suffering from unbearable agonies that he could only imagine, tossing and turning from nightmares and from the slow and painful deterioration of his body the longer he went without blood. Rannon had never felt more helpless or more frustrated. There was no doubt now that the car was headed to the cabin. It had turned onto the dirt lane. Rannon narrowed his eyes and saw 165

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glimpses of red through the trees. Not the sheriff then. But not, he thought, a Fel either, since he didn’t pick up the distinctive Fel scent. The question was, who the hell would be coming up here to Doyle’s cabin so late in the day when Doyle was dead and only a handful of people knew Shaun was in town? A few seconds later an older red Subaru Outback pulled into the clearing with only one person in it. It looked like a woman. She parked behind Shaun’s FJ. Rannon held his ground, still keeping tight control over his Fel, but he felt jumpy as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rockin’ chairs. The gray-haired lady waved and smiled—Like he was supposed to know her?—as she clambered out of the car. She opened the backdoor and pulled out a covered basket, then trundled toward the cabin, looking uncomfortably similar to a plump hen in her white plastic raincoat, bright red knitted hat from under which her gray hair stuck out in curly tufts, and bright red galoshes. “Ye must be the man Shaun was a-lookin’ fer yesterday,” she said as she huffed up the porch steps. “Blond hair and a black wool coat, is how he described ye, and here ye are!” Rannon automatically reached out and took the big basket from her, afraid she might not make it up the steps otherwise. “Um… hmmm,” he said noncommittally. Shaun had been looking for him yesterday? In a day that had had none, that information gave him a little flicker of pleasure. “He said ye’d been at his daddy’s burial. It was nice a ye to be there to support him.” More lines creased the already wrinkled skin on her forehead, and her eyebrows drew together. “Thanks to that 166

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confounded priest at Saint Brigid’s, who di’n bother tellin’ anyone else ’bout the burial, we di’n know it took place yesterday. Otherwise we’d a been there to pay our respects. I cain’t fathom that poor boy havin’ to cope with such a tragedy all by hisself.” She shook her head and tsked. Then she smiled, which instantly chased away the shadows on her face and replaced them with sunshine. “But listen to me goin’ on and on and not even introducin’ myself. What a yokel ye must think I am.” She stuck out her hand. “I’m Beulah Grommet. My husband Norbert and I run the grocery in town. Shaun stopped by last night, bless his heart, after they put his daddy in the ground.” Ah, the grocery store lady Shaun hadn’t been able to say no to about taking food. Rannon held the heavy basket in one hand while giving her hand a gentle squeeze with his other. In spite of his down mood, a smile teased at his lips. He understood now why Shaun hadn’t had the heart to tell her no. There was something inherently motherly about her, and you could tell she wore her emotions on her sleeve. “I’m Rannon,” he said, introducing himself. He almost never told anyone his real name, a habit he’d gotten into when he left home so he didn’t leave an obvious breadcrumb trail for his old man to follow. He was surprised he’d let it slip today, but he found it hard not to like the old lady, and she seemed harmless enough. “I’m glad Shaun found ye,” Beulah said, “but I confess I am curious how ye know him. Yesterday he di’n seem certain he did know ye, said mebee you was a frien’ a his daddy’s. “Shaun and I were friends—best friends, actually—when we were kids. But that was a long time ago, and we hadn’t seen each other in years. So he didn’t recognize me when he first saw me.” “Well bless yer heart. And I’m so glad ye come to see him. 167

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That boy looked like he needed a frien’ yesterday. So upsettin’ for him to have lost his daddy without ever gittin’ a chance to say goodbye to him. Is he here?” she asked, trying to peer in the front window, but of course couldn’t see anything since the curtains were drawn. “Yes, ma’am, but he’s not feeling well. He’s sleepin’ right now.” Rannon didn’t know why he kept volunteering so much information to the woman—it wasn’t remotely in his nature to be so chatty with a stranger. Except, again, he just didn’t get any sense of ill will from her. Something about her put him at ease. Beulah’s face drew into a worried, wrinkled apple expression, and she tsked again. “He di’n look like he felt too good yesterday ev’nin’. I think the suddenness of everythin’ was jest too much for ’im. So much loss, so much change,” she said sadly. You have no idea, Rannon thought, and another surge of worry crashed over him. He really needed to get back inside so he could check on Shaun. But he wasn’t quite sure how to rush things along with Beulah without appearing rude. “The basket?” he questioned, shifting it in his arm. “Lordy! I almost forgot it. I brought some supper. Thought Shaun might appreciate a home-cooked meal. There’s plenty in there fer both ’a ye. Fried chicken, coleslaw, biscuits, and some cherry pie fer desert.” She beamed at him as she rattled off the menu. “That’s really nice of you. Thank you. I’m certain it’s delicious if you made it.” She tittered like a girl and actually blushed. “Well, now, you do know how to flatter an ol’ gal.” “It’ll mean a lot to Shaun that you came by this evening. Right now, though, I should probably get back inside and check on him.” 168

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“Oh, a’course ye should! You give that boy a big hug from me and Norb, ye hear?” “Sure.” Rannon smiled at her again because she seemed to honestly mean it and expected him to do it. “There’s one more thing,” she said. “Would ye tell Shaun that a man stopped down ’t the store this afternoon lookin’ fer him?” Tension shot up Rannon’s spine and all his sense went on instant alert. “A man? Did he give his name?” “No, he di’n offer one. There was somethin’ ’bout him that just di’n sit well with Norb and me.” Beulah frowned. “At first I though mebee it was you, since Shaun had asked us about ye yesterday. But then I realized right off that this ’un wasn’t anything like the description Shaun gave us a ye. This feller was tall and burly and rough, and he had a look about ’im.” “A look?” “Like he were up to no good.” Fear tightened Rannon’s muscles. “Did you tell him where Shaun was staying?” Beulah looked affronted. “’Course we di’n! I jest told ye we di’n like the way he looked or acted. We tol’ him as fer as we knew, Shaun had left town and headed back up north.” Rannon let out a pent up breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. “That’s… good. Really good to hear.” “I ain’t sure what exactly that man wanted, or what’s goin’ on, but I have a feelin’ there might be more to Shaun’s daddy’s death than him bein’ mauled by a bear.” Rannon tensed all over again. “Why do you think that?” “There’s been some strange characters around town over the past few weeks. More of the same ilk as the man who come by today. And it ain’t no secret there’s folk doin’ illegal things tucked 169

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away in the coves and hollers in these mountains. Plenty a empty space for folks to lose themselves, if you know what I mean, without havin’ ta worry ’bout bein’ caught. And with Doyle livin’ up here all by hisself, I just gotta wonder if maybe he saw some somethin’ or got tangled up in somethin’ he shouldn’t oughta. And I’m jest a little worried that with someone coming ’round askin’ after Shaun, they might think he somehow knows somethin’, too.” Beulah gave him a look that was surprisingly astute. “I think ye already suspect that yerself, though, since you seemed so relieved the man di’n find out Shaun was here.” For all her talkative congeniality, she was clearly a sharp old gal. “Let’s just say I’ve seen some odd things myself since I’ve been here. And Shaun’s… ” His chest tightened with emotion. “He’s been through enough already. I don’t want him to get hurt.” “Yer really worried ’bout him, ain’t ye?” Rannon drew in a deep breath and released it. “Yeah. I am. He’s… ” “… important to ye.” It was a statement, not a question, and Beulah looked at him with misty eyes. “I kin tell. It’s the way ye look when ye talk about him. He’s lucky to have ye lookin’ out fer him. Don’ you worry about folks in town givin’ out information. Jest like we tol’ Shaun yesterday—we take keer a our own here. Anybody comes ’round we don’t take a fancy to, or who seems like a threat to one a us, we send ’em on their way.” She reached up and patted his cheek. “If yer a frien’ a Shaun’s, then yer a friend a ours as well, so we’ll look after you, too.” Her words touched Rannon. He hadn’t had anyone “look after him” since Shaun had taken him under his wing so long ago. “That’s… thank you.” 170

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“Now listen, if you’uns need anythin’ at all, you let Norb ‘n’ me know. I mean it, now.” He nodded. “We will. And if you wouldn’t mind… ” Rannon paused because he didn’t want to put her on the spot. “We won’t be tellin’ no one you’re up here with Shaun, darlin’. That ain’t no one’s bizness but yer own.” Relief washed over Rannon. “Thank you. Again. For everything.” She pulled him into a full-bosomed hug, basket and all, then bussed his cheek. “I best be headin’ back home afore it gits any later. Smells like it’s ’bout to start rainin’ agin any second, plus Norb don’t like me out on the roads after dark. The man worries like a big ol’ nag.” “I’m sure it’s because he loves you.” She grinned. “And I don’t let him forgit it!” Then she sobered again. “You be careful up here, ye hear? And you look out fer that boy in there.” “I will.” “All righty then.” She nodded and turned to teeter down the steps, tightly clutching the handrail. Rannon watched until she’d turned her car around and headed back down the mountain. Her unexpected visit had made him feel a tiny bit better because at least now he knew Shaun had someone else watching his back, and for that Rannon was grateful. He’d learned over the years of looking over his own shoulder that small town folk were often fiercely loyal, and the fact the Grommets had accepted Shaun into their fold based on their respect for Doyle said a lot about them. They wouldn’t willingly give Shaun away. But, unfortunately, her visit hadn’t been all sunshine and daisies. The nagging fear that had haunted him all day now had a 171

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source—the Fels were looking for Shaun again. Hellfire. In the cabin, he set the basket on the counter and his gaze immediately went to the bed where Shaun had been since last night. Had being the key word… Rannon’s heart nearly slid up into his throat and choked him because the bed was empty. And a swift glance around the main room of the cabin showed Shaun wasn’t there. Oh no. Rannon pushed open the bathroom door. But the bathroom was empty as well. He tried really hard not to panic, but after almost no sleep for two days and his worry meter already well into the red, there wasn’t much he could do about it when his heart pounded and he suddenly thought he might be sick. “Shaun!” God, where was he? He had to have gone out the backdoor—it was the only way he could have gotten out without Rannon knowing. Sweet Jesus, this was not good. His heart still banging away like a drum corps, Rannon ran to the small laundry/mudroom at the rear of the house where the backdoor was located. But he ground to a halt when he spied a lanky, dark-headed figure in the corner between the stacking washer and dryer and the wall. The gray light of evening seeped through the closed curtains on the door and a nightlight plugged into a wall outlet gave off the only real light in the small room, but Rannon could still see Shaun clearly. He sat on the floor with his back to the wall, his knees drawn up against his chest, his arms wrapped protectively around 172

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them, and his head resting on his knees. At some point he’d put on a long-sleeved T-shirt with the shorts he’d had on before, but he was barelegged and barefoot. Rather than the heavy rapid breathing of last night, this evening his respiration was almost too slow and shallow. His skin was the color of bleached parchment and looked thin, almost translucent in the glow of the nightlight. And he was shivering. Rannon almost could have cried he was so relieved to see him. Yet at the same time a whole new flood of worry washed over him because the man in the corner was so unlike the healthy, vibrant, self-assured Shaun he’d always known. If hearts really could break, Rannon’s was doing it right now. Seeing a stack of folded bedding on top of the washer/dryer, Rannon grabbed a worn but fresh-smelling quilt from the pile. He sank to a crouch next to Shaun and wrapped the quilt around his shoulders. Shaun’s eyes opened, and the irises were solid black. The sight startled Rannon, but only for a second. This was part of who Shaun was now, and seeing him like this was no more frightening for Rannon than seeing him as a human. What did scare him, though, was that unlike last night, when Shaun had been aggressive each time his eyes had changed and the Mal in him had emerged, there was no hostility in him now. Rannon was afraid it was because Shaun had already gone too long without blood and didn’t have much fight left in him. But there was almost something more about it as well. It was as if… as if Shaun had given up. “You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake,” he told Shaun. “You were out for almost a full day.” “That long?” Shaun murmured without lifting his head off his knees. His fangs were down, as they had been most of the time he 173

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was unconscious, and they gave his voice a faint slur. “I was worried about you.” Rannon reached out to run a hand over Shaun’s head. Shaun flinched, but didn’t stop him. “What are you doin’ back here in the laundry room, babe?” “Had to get away… from her.” “Her?” “Mrs. G. She was too close, out on the porch.” His voice was raspy and barely above a whisper. “I could smell it every time her heart pumped.” “Oh, Shaun. I’m sorry.” “You shouldn’t be this close either. But you’re not going to listen to me and leave, are you?” He sounded so tired it wrenched Rannon’s heart. “You already know I’m not. You also know what you need to do to feel better.” Shaun sighed and closed his eyes. “No,” he said, his voice flat, final. Rannon sighed, too. He took off his coat, then sank to the floor to sit with Shaun. He stroked Shaun’s back. “I know you how you feel, I do. But this isn’t gonna go away. And there is no other option.” “Nothing’s changed since last night. I’m not doing it.” Rannon drew in a breath and released it, hating this so damned much. “You can’t just ignore this, Shaun. You’re already in bad shape. Your body’s startin’ to shut down. If you don’t feed soon, give your body the kind of nourishment it needs… you’ll die. Shaun didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t respond in any way, which scared Rannon because he knew Shaun had heard him. Finally, Shaun spoke. But the words were so quiet they almost weren’t there at all. “How long do I have?” 174

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Rannon squeezed his eyes closed. “I don’t know for sure,” he whispered. “It’s already been almost twenty-four hours since you completed the change, so, if you don’t feed… another day. Maybe two.” Silence again. “All you have to do is feed from me and it’ll be okay,” Rannon said. “But I can’t give it to you, Shaun. You have to take it yourself.” He knew because he’d tried already, about eighteen hours in, when Shaun hadn’t come around yet. Rannon had always heard the urban legend that you couldn’t force-feed a Mal, that the curse required them to get their own blood. But in desperation, he’d decided he had to try. He’d cut open a vein in his wrist and tried to feed Shaun. But Shaun had choked on the blood and been unable to swallow it. He’d also turned instantly paler, his pulse had grown erratic, and he’d cried out as if he were in severe pain, like Rannon had tortured him. It had scared Rannon too much to try it more than once. Shaun shook his head. “Never.” “Why? Why won’t you help yourself when I’m freely offering?” “Because I’m not going to hurt you anymore.” “Shaun—” “I also refuse to become him. Because that is what’s happening to me, isn’t it?” His voice grew even more raspy and quiet. “I’m turning into whatever Doyle was.” Shock rippled through Rannon and he gaped at Shaun. “You know about Doyle? I didn’t think you did.” Shaun’s eyes opened and he looked at Rannon. “Remember, all those years ago, when I told you I didn’t have any memories of my mom? That I didn’t recall anything from before she died?” 175

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Rannon nodded. “All my life I’ve had bad dreams. I never told anybody because they made me feel so helpless and I hated it. I had them again while I was sleeping here, and I saw things… ” A pained expression slid over his face. “Things I didn’t want to think about. Things I think I buried because they were too awful.” “Memories,” Rannon breathed, as understanding dawned. “You weren’t just having nightmares, you were reliving memories, weren’t you? Things from your past that you’d repressed.” Shaun nodded and turned his face against his arms. “What do you remember?” He stroked Shaun’s back again, trying to offer comfort, but not sure if he was helping or just making things worse for Shaun. Shaun dragged his eyes over his sleeve. “I remember the night my mom died. Something… something that was a man one moment and an animal the next killed her. Then it came after me. But before it could hurt me, Doyle came home. He fought with it, and then, as I watched from where I was hidden in the closet, I saw… ” He shook his head as if he still didn’t want to think about it. “What did you see?” Rannon encouraged. “I saw my own father turn into something… not human. Something worse even than the creature he fought. I saw him rip into it like some kind of demon with horrible black eyes and sharp fangs… ” Rannon saw the tip of Shaun’s tongue sneak out and trace the contours of his own fangs. His voice quavered when he continued. “He tore it apart and drank its blood. And then he came to get me in the closet. His face was back to normal, but there was blood everywhere. I felt it on his clothes, his skin. I smelled it—I didn’t think I’d ever be able to get 176

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that smell out of my head. The whole thing made me sick. And I hated him for it.” A silent sob shook his shoulders, and Rannon’s heart broke a little more. “I was five years old when that happened,” Shaun whispered. “How do you… how do you do something like that in front of your five-year-old child?” “I don’t know, babe. Maybe it was the only way to save his life and yours? Sometimes people have to take desperate measures to keep the people they love safe.” He thought of his own fight with the Fel yesterday and hated the guilt he still felt over having to take its life. But he also knew he’d do it all again if it meant keeping Shaun safe. “I can’t do that, Rannon. I won’t do it. I won’t turn into some out-of-control blood-crazed monster. If that’s what fate has in store for me… I’d rather die.” “Don’t say that.” “It’s true. I’d rather die than become a monster.” Finality rang in his tone. “Shaun, you don’t know what you’re talking about. It doesn’t have to be that way.” “I know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m going to let this run its course, and then it’ll be over, I’ll be gone, and no one has to get hurt.” Rannon’s lungs seized at the words and he stared at him. My God, he meant it. He was serious. “How can you even say that?” Rannon’s voice shook, all his pent up fears bubbling to the surface. “I just got you back, Shaun. After all this time, I just got you back. And now you want to throw your entire life away? No. Hell no! I’m not going to lose you again, damn it! I can’t!” 177

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“Look what I almost did to you last night,” Shaun whispered. “I don’t think you have any idea how hard it was to stop myself from ripping out your throat. I wanted to, Rannon. I could taste it. Still can, and if I weren’t so weak right now, I’d be all over you.” His shivering, which had eased a bit, resumed, even harder than before. “Do you know how hard it is to sit here listening to your heart beating, smelling it each time it pulses with blood? Do you know how badly I want to taste your blood? How much I want to feel it sliding hot and slick down my throat? How badly I want to feel you squirming against me, fighting me, because that would just make it that much sweeter?” He lifted his head off his knees and glared at Rannon, his expression fierce, predatory. His lips parted, showing his fangs more clearly, and he hissed. “I want all that and more!” he growled, the sound so unearthly it send chills up Rannon’s back. But then, as Rannon watched, Shaun’s shoulders sagged, and his expression morphed back into one of exhaustion and soul-deep sorrow. “But I’m not going to give in to it. Because I could never, ever, forgive myself.” His voice caught and sounded choked when he continued. “I don’t think you know what a gift it is for me to see you again, be with you again. I never stopped thinking about you. I looked for you. Even went to back to Texas a few years later to find you. And now you’re here, and I’m so grateful.” Rannon’s eyes stung with sudden, hot moisture. Shaun had looked for him, come back for him? Fourteen years of loneliness and heartache, thinking Shaun had forgotten him, rolled over him again in a fierce tide. But this time, instead of drowning him like it usually did, he felt washed clean. Shaun’s hand snaked out and found Rannon’s, his fingers closing around it. It was the first time since they’d been intimate in 178

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the bathroom last night that he’d initiated any kind of physical contact with Rannon, and it sent another surge of emotion straight to Rannon’s heart. But his next words tore at Rannon, shattering the new fragile peace he thought he’d just found. “I want you to remember me the way I was,” Shaun said. “Not as this wretched, bloodthirsty thing I’ve become. You have to let me go, Rann. It’s better this way.” The tears welled over now, leaking hot trails against Rannon’s cheeks. Rannon swiped the back of his hand across his face, angry and hurt at Shaun’s fatalistic attitude. “Better for who? You? Because you’re scared to face your demons, so instead of dealin’ with them and realizin’ that even in this new phase of your life you can have control over how you live it, you’re just gonna throw out everything and do a permanent runaway?” He shook his head. “You say you don’t want to be like Doyle, but isn’t that exactly what he always did? Running away, hiding in his bottle instead of facing his life?” “Rann—” “I won’t let you do this.” “It’s not your choice to make. You’re not the one who has to live with the consequences of the things I’d do if I gave in. And I don’t understand anyway, Rannon. Why would you want me like this? I’m not even a man anymore.” His face tightened in pain that looked more emotional than physical. “I don’t know what the hell I am.” “I know exactly who and what you are. You’re Shaun McCarry, part human and part Mal, and the same person I fell in love with all those years ago. I’ve always known the truth of your heritage, and it doesn’t change how I feel about you. It doesn’t 179

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change for a second how much I still want you.” Shock rippled off Shaun like a tangible thing that Rannon could taste, smell. “What do you mean you’ve always known? You mean you knew even back when we were teenagers that I was going to… that I was going to be this thing?” His tone turned accusing, and Rannon couldn’t blame him for feeling that way. “Yes. But I thought you knew then, too, Shaun. It never even occurred to me you didn’t, never occurred to me that Doyle hadn’t told you you’d become what he was.” He realized the moment it came out of his mouth that he’d just said exactly the wrong thing. Shaun slid his hand away from Rannon’s, and Rannon felt him withdraw emotionally as well. It as if he’d just slammed shut a huge, heavy door between them. “I won’t become my father,” Shaun said in a dead voice. “You don’t have to. Because you have something he didn’t.” “What?” “You have me. You’re not alone in this. No matter what happens, I’m on your side and I will always have your back.” When Shaun didn’t respond, irritation clawed up from Rannon’s spleen. “Damn it, Shaun. Once upon a time you trusted me. Can’t you please just trust me now?” Shaun drew in and released a ragged breath. “I don’t think I can trust anyone anymore.”

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CHAPTER 11 Rannon’s eyes, still damp from earlier, flared with hurt. And for some reason seeing that touched Shaun in a way nothing had since all this nightmare had begun. He remembered back to the way the young, fifteen-year-old Rannon had looked at him with absolute trust and hero worship on his face, as if Shaun were the only one in his world who could fix all the shitty stuff and make everything better. And now, here in this time, the only thing Rannon was asking was to have a measure of that in return. To have Shaun trust him. But all Shaun could see was Doyle tearing into the man-animal in his bedroom with unrepentant ferocity, ripping him apart and drinking his blood. Doyle had become something Shaun couldn’t bear to ever be. 181

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And no matter how much Rannon begged, no matter how much Shaun wanted to wipe away all the pain on Rannon’s face and make it better just like he used to, he couldn’t this time. Because giving in to Rannon, meant condemning them both. What about before, a little voice in Shaun’s head nagged. Before what? Before you saw what Doyle did in the bedroom. Until then, you adored him, loved him, and he loved you. Even after that night, he tried to do everything he could to make you happy again. He tried for a long time. But you were the one who shut him out, and eventually he stopped trying because you wouldn’t let him in again. You stopped calling him Daddy, even. Guilt clogged Shaun’s throat, which just made him angry. He had nothing to feel guilty for. He’d been a traumatized, innocent little kid. He wasn’t the one who’d gone psycho in front of his child. And why did it matter what had come before that night or if Doyle had tried to make it up to him later? It didn’t change the fact Doyle had been a monster. It matters because in spite of the demon living inside him, he was still capable of love. “Shaun?” Rannon’s voice was low, and it sounded concerned. Shaun blinked opened his eyes, not even realizing he’d closed them, and wondered how long he’d been zoning. He hurt all over, but had so little energy left that all the individual pains blurred into a giant haze of ache that consumed him. He wanted to close his eyes again and sleep, just let the quiet peace flow over him. But just as he could smell Rannon’s blood pulsing through his veins, he could also smell his emotions. He couldn’t explain it, he just could. And Rannon suddenly went stiff and tension surged through him. 182

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“What is it?” Shaun asked. “Shhh.” Rannon pressed his fingers against Shaun’s lips. His face turned intense, and his nostrils flared as if he sought to pick up a scent. It was an odd behavior, almost animal-like, and what could he possibly smell in the house? “What is it?” Shaun whispered again. “A car’s headed up to the cabin. Wait here while I go check it out.” But Shaun grabbed his arm as Rannon started to rise. “Rannon… something’s not right.” Again, he didn’t know how he knew it, he just did. Rannon squeezed his hand. “I know,” he said, then disappeared into the main part of the house. Even though Shaun had been certain he’d made his peace with the fact that Rannon would be far better off without him, he couldn’t just sit here. Worry for Rannon stirred in him, temporarily shoving aside the burning craving for blood deep at his core. He braced his hand on the floor and was pushing himself up to a standing position when Rannon returned. Rannon levered his shoulder under Shaun’s and helped him stand. He smelled unbelievably good, and not just because of the blood in his veins. His scent, arousing and comforting, caused a strange hitch in Shaun’s chest. He led Shaun into the main room, then to the bathroom door. Shaun held back. “Why are you bringing me here?” “Because it’s about the safest place in the cabin right now. No window to the outside and you can lock the door. Please, Shaun, we don’t have a lot of time.” “No. I’m not going to barricade myself in the bathroom.” He had a quick flashback to his mother telling him to hide in the 183

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closet. He grimaced and pushed away from Rannon, then sank back to the floor—outside the bathroom—because it was just easier than trying to get to the couch. “What’s going on? You’re afraid of whoever’s coming. Why?” Rannon sighed and sank to a crouch next to him. “Because Doyle wasn’t killed by a bear. Remember what the sheriff told you?” A mountain lion… The sheriff had said the coroner thought it was a mountain lion. Shaun’s heart raced as he made a connection. “The same thing that killed my mom.” “Yes.” “But it died. I saw it die.” “There are more. Many more. And right now three of them are approachin’ the cabin.” Shaun stared at Rannon, trying to make sense of what he was saying. “But why here and now if they already killed Doyle?” “They hunt Malaks. And you… ” Rannon sighed again. “That’s what you’re called. You’re a Mal now.” Run. Keep running. Don’t let them find you. The words from Doyle’s note came back to him and, suddenly, he understood. Rannon’s words at the cemetery before he left also made sense now, too: Watch your back, Shaun. “What do you mean ‘hunt them.’ Like for sport?” The thought made Shaun sick. “No, more like on a mission.” “Why? I don’t understand.” Shaun sighed. “I don’t either, to be honest. It didn’t used to be that way. Long ago the Feldaemons were the Mals’ protectors as well as their providers, so the Mals didn’t have to prey on humans.” 184

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“By providers, you mean they used them to… ” “To feed from, yes. It wasn’t a forced thing, though. It was freely given. But then somethin’ happened generations ago, I don’t know what, and the Fels turned on the Malaks. Ever since, it’s been an intense blood feud, except feud’s probably not the best way to describe it since it’s one-sided, with the Fels doing all the retaliatin’ and the Mals expendin’ all their energy on just survivin’. The Fels see it as their obligation to rid the world of all Malaks, with no exceptions.” “So the one when I was a kid… do you think it really came looking for Doyle, but found my mom and me instead?” “Probably. Your dad was just defendin’ himself and you. If he hadn’t killed it, it would have killed you both.” “But what are they? The Feldaemons. The one I saw… it changed from a man to a cat, then back to a man.” “Shapeshifters. “W—” He grimaced. “They can take on the form of any big cat, but most in the States stick to mountain lions because they have the largest geographic range of any large mammal in America, so it’s the least likely to draw attention.” “Any big cat? Are you telling me they could be lions or tigers or whatever?” “Yes. Whatever best fits their surroundings.” “How do you know all of this?” Although it had been a fleeting thought in his mind all evening, it suddenly seemed incredibly important to understand why Rannon had so much information. “Shaun, this isn’t the time for any more long discussions. The situation’s kinda urgent.” “So is this. You can’t just dump all of this on me without explaining why you’re a walking encyclopedia about it. Why do you know things about me that I didn’t even know, and you’ve 185

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known them since we were kids? Why do you know about Mals and shapeshifters and blood feuds? ” “Shaun… ” “Tell me, damn it!” He hated the growl that had built in him, but a red fog covered his vision and he was tired. So tired. He needed to know what Rannon was hiding from him because, in that moment, he knew he was. There was more to this story, and he still didn’t even know why Rannon had appeared here in Dreamspell out of the blue. He suddenly remembered that Rannon had told him he’d come to help him, to protect him. From what? These Fel things? And if so, how did he know when they’d be coming for him? “Tell me!” he growled again. Rannon dragged in a deep breath, his face lined with concern. But, finally, he nodded. His expression, however, wasn’t that of a person caught in the act of deception like Shaun thought it would be. Sadness, yes. Tension and fear, yes. But deceit, no. Rannon shocked the hell out of him by cupping Shaun’s face between his hands, almost tenderly. His words, when he spoke, were soft. “I know things because you’re not the only one who isn’t fully human, Shaun.” “Wha—” Rannon silenced him when he pressed a kiss against Shaun’s lips. The contact startled Shaun and he heard his own huff of surprise. Why would Rannon want to kiss him, the way he was? But this was Rannon, and he’d always given Rannon whatever he wanted, and suddenly he was kissing back, trying to stay gentle, not wanting to hurt Rann with the sharp points of his teeth, but needing more. And not more in an I-want-to-devour you way, but more in a please-don’t-ever-leave-me way. The realization shook 186

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him. Confused him, given his decision earlier. And yet he couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there. His hand curved around the back of Rannon’s head, his fingers sliding into the soft thickness of his hair and drawing him closer. Rannon let him, and for a few brief, precious seconds more, their mouths clung together. Then Rannon ended the kiss. His gaze, full of churning emotion, melted something cold and hard in Shaun. “Stay here and stay out of sight, and please reconsider the bathroom. They want you, but you’re not strong enough to run or to fight them, Shaun. So, please, please, I need you to be safe. And just remember… ” His lips briefly pressed to Shaun’s again. “No matter what you see or hear, no matter what you think, I’m on your side. Only ever on your side.” With that, he pulled away from Shaun, crossed the room, and opened the front door. What Rannon was about to do finally sank into Shaun’s painhazed brain. Rannon was planning to face down not just one, but three of the same kind of creatures who’d killed Shaun’s parents. And he was going to do it alone. “Rann, no, don’t go out there!” But it was too late. The door closed with a soft but foreboding whump. *

*

*

Rannon knew he was in trouble. How was he going to deal with three Fels at once if things got ugly? And they would get ugly. Possibilities and plans ran through his head, but, hell, he wasn’t a soldier or a warrior. He wasn’t even a very good Fel, at least not in the way the Fel defined themselves—by how many hunts they 187

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had under their belts. He’d been a total hypocrite in there accusing Shaun of running from his demons when he’d been running from his own most of his life. All he had going for him right now was a big helping of bravado and a fierce need to protect the only person in the world who’d ever mattered to him. He’d held his own twice recently with other Fels, but that had been one-on-one. The odds were not in his favor this time. So what else is new? Shaun was too weak for them to try to make a run for it by foot, and they wouldn’t get down the mountain in either of their vehicles with the Fels coming up the narrow road blocking their way. Which left… yeah. Bravado. He saw the headlights of the car, slicing through the damp night air, and then it was in the clearing. His heart stuttered when he got his first good look at the vehicle—the same twenty-year-old dented, white Oldsmobile Cutlass Rannon had prowled around and into just the day before. The one the Fel he’d killed had been driving. Oh shit. The driver parked it behind Shaun’s FJ, blocking it in. He shut off the car, but left the headlights on. The beams lit up a circle, like a spotlight, against the trees and undergrowth next to the cabin. It wasn’t fully dark yet, though it was getting close. But Rannon’s vision was still fairly decent, even in human form. He held his ground on the porch, legs slightly spread, hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans to create the illusion he didn’t feel threatened. But his Fel shimmered and coiled, ready to engulf his body at a moment’s notice. Three Fels in human form got out of the car. Rannon instantly 188

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assessed them, cataloging their strengths and what might be their weaknesses. The car’s driver was a muscle-bound thirty-something with a buzz cut. He looked ex-military, the no nonsense, take no prisoners type. Rannon knew the kind, had worked with many like him in construction and other jobs over the years. They were all business, good at following orders, but often were so focused and driven to accomplish a job that they didn’t always see the big picture. The Fel stopped and lounged against Rannon’s truck as if he didn’t have a care in the world, but his posture indicated he was alert and tense. So he was a goon then, a bodyguard, paid to stand watch. The second one was a lanky blond kid who couldn’t have been more than twenty. He swaggered like a cock, and wore a smirk on his slightly smashed face. He’d probably be the weak link because he was too wrapped up in thinking he was all that and would make mistakes. Rannon wondered what his purpose was here, but figured he was probably just another paid goon. As his gaze moved to the third Fel, a burly man in his fifties with long stringy dark hair and a beard, Rannon’s chest suddenly felt crushed in a vise. “Gamble,” he whispered. “Well, well, well,” the older man said, his dark eyes glinting with malicious humor. “Lookee what we have here. Does your pa know where ya are, boy? Last I heard, you was on the run and he and your uncle had put a price on your head. Heard there was an incident in Oklahoma. Something about finding your cousin dead, killed by one of his own kind in a diner where someone fittin’ your description just happened to be workin’.” Rannon tensed at the reminder of what had gone down that fateful night, but managed to stay outwardly cool. “Yeah, well, you shouldn’t always believe everything you hear.” 189

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“That right?” He let out a huff that was half chuckle, half snort. “Rannon James: Killer. Has an interestin’ ring to it. Never would have guessed you’d have the balls for anything down and dirty, though. Last time I saw you, you was a skinny runt of a thing hiding in the lilac bushes so ya didn’t have to go huntin’ with your pa. Too squeamish, your pa always said. It embarrassed him, and I don’t blame him.” “You know him, Gamble?” the lanky blond kid said, looking curiously between Gamble and Rannon. “Who is he? And what’s the price on his head?” “Yeah, I know him. His pa’s an old friend. Used to stop by their place in Texas every now and again when I was in the area.” “But what’s the price?” the kid pestered. “Can we take him in and collect it?” “Did you want something this evenin’ or are you just plannin’ to stand there jawin’?” Rannon said, his patience wearing thin. “Well, now, I reckon, since you’re standing on the porch of the late Doyle McCarry’s residence, you know exactly why we’re here,” Gamble said. The kid tried to speak again about the price on Rannon’s head, but Gamble smacked him across the face, eliciting a whimper from him. Gamble continued, “We’ve got a bit of garbage removal to take care of. Sent a man to gather it for me yesterday but he seems to have up and run off. Wouldn’t know anything about that, would ya?” “Why would I know or care anything about one your goons?” “Mmm. Just find it mighty interestin’ that we picked up the scent of another Fel in the car when we found it in the woods. And then we come up here and happen to find that particular traitorous stench standing right in front of us.” “I saw the car abandoned in the woods and checked it out. 190

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There’s no crime in that.” “You never was good for much, Rannon James. Apparently that includes bein’ a liar, too.” “And again I ask, what the hell is it that you want here, Gamble?” The man gave him a feral smile. “I believe you’ve got somethin’ of ours in that cabin. And we’ve come to collect it.” “This is my territory, the cabin and everything around it. Which means anything inside it is mine as well” Gamble’s chuckle crawled its way up Rannon’s spine. “You got some nuts, I’ll give ya that,” he said. “Stupid, but ya got nuts. I’ll make it real clear for ya. We come to get Shaun McCarry. Doyle, ya see, wrote up this real nice journal for his kid, apologizin’ for everything he done wrong, tellin’ him about how he got burned in a fire he accidentally started when he was drinkin’ and how it changed his outlook on life and made him want to clean up his act. He told his boy how much he loves him, and explained about how when he turns thirty on March tenth—which, by the way, is today—he’s going to go through a big scary change. Getting’ that journal to his kid was so important to Doyle that we caught him as he was tryin’ to go to the post office to mail it. “He wrote out everything—his son’s name, address, personal information. Made it real easy to find him. We know he’s here in Dreamspell, know he went to his daddy’s burial yesterday.” “And what, exactly, does all this have to do with me? Why are you here?” Rannon said. “We asked around town ’bout the McCarry kid, but the townsfolk are tight-lipped. The old couple that run the store even insisted he’d gone on back up north to DC. But the priest at the catholic church… he had a different story.” 191

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Well hell. The priest. Rannon had known from the moment he laid eyes on the man that he was potential trouble. He’d heard how he’d spoken to Shaun at the burial, belittled him in subtle ways, implied he was a deadbeat son. And now he’d set the Fels on Shaun. Damn the man! “So let’s cut to the chase, boy. We know Shaun McCarry is here. That’s his black vehicle sitting right there. If you bring ’im out real nice-like, then I’ll think long and hard about not letting your pa know where you’re hidin’.” “That’s nice, but I don’t make deals with assholes. I have a better idea. Why don’t you take your lackeys and mosey on back down the mountain out of my territory. You aren’t welcome here.” “Gamble, you ain’t gonna let ’im talk to you like that, are ya?” the mouthy blond said. “Shut up, Alton.” Gamble cuffed the young man again, which earned him a scowl. The other Fel still stood silent. He’d moved from leaning on Rannon’s truck to leaning against Shaun’s FJ. Gamble started toward the porch. The kid fell in step alongside him, and finally the buzz-cut one approached as well. “Listen, James, you can act tough all ya want,” Gamble said his eyes fastened on Rannon, “but don’t be stupider than ya have to. One low-life leech ain’t worth pickin’ a fight you can’t win. And ya know you don’t have what it takes to deal with us. So cut your losses while you can. Give us McCarry… and you get to live.” “When did you start needing bodyguards, Gamble? What’s the matter, getting’ too old to look out for yourself? Can’t cut it alone anymore?” Gamble growled low in his throat. Rannon knew it was stupid to provoke him, but he was out of 192

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talk, out of ideas. Bravado was all he had. This was going to end in a fight and it wasn’t going to be pretty. He’d be lucky to survive. But by damn, he’d go down fightin’ to the end because there was no way on God’s green earth he was letting this bastard and his crew get their hands on Shaun. “What’s the matter, can’t handle the truth about your age?” “You feelin’ like it’s a good day to die, James?” Gamble rumbled, lurching toward him. “Don’t take another step closer,” Rannon warned, his own voice dropping to a growl. “Because if you do… I will put you down, old man.” Gamble and his goons shimmered and began to change, but Rannon was already one step ahead of them. He leapt off the porch, shifting into his Fel form midair, and hitting Gamble square in the chest, crashing him backward to the ground a full second before Gamble’s own shift completed. He went straight for Gamble’s neck, burying his teeth in the flesh. But the others were on him in a heartbeat and he couldn’t maintain his grip. The four of them rolled, biting and growling until Rannon didn’t know which of them were which. They backed off a pace, circling him. He growled low in his throat, and so did they. Then they lunged at him again, attacking with huge paws and razor sharp claws, trying to slash at his head, his back. He returned the strikes, giving as much as he was getting. Fury, like he’d never experienced before, surged through him, feeding his strength, making him fight harder. Gamble charged him again, and they rolled, kicking, clawing, teeth snapping. The young one joined the fray, tearing into Rannon as well. Rannon felt pain shoot through his back, and, at some point, his hip. He let the agony register, then he shoved it away, his 193

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mind only on one thing—protecting Shaun. Which was why he went half-insane when he saw one of the Fels—Buzz-cut, the muscle-bound military dude who, in Fel form, was just as muscular and rigid as his human form—break away from the fight and leap to the porch steps. Rannon tore himself free from the others and leapt for Buzzcut, catching him halfway up the steps. His teeth sank deep into one of Buzz-cut’s back legs. Buzz-cut shrieked, the sound echoing in the damp night. He twisted to fight Rannon off, but Rannon lunged at him again, pinning him down with his claws and biting hard into the sweet spot—his neck. He held tight as Buzz-cut thrashed and convulsed. Finally, the other Fel’s body grew limp. Only then did Rannon release him. One down, two to go. But before he even had time to catch his breath, the other two leapt onto Rannon, with angry growls, attacking him with vicious strikes from their claws. Under the onslaught, Rannon tumbled down the steps, landing on his side with a dull thud on the muddy ground. Gamble and the kid stayed right with him, using the fall to their advantage and moving in before he could right himself. One of them bit him to the bone on the shoulder, the other got him by the throat. Rannon’s vision darkened with pain as his muscles and nerve endings screamed. His lungs seared from lack of air as the sharptoothed vise at his throat cut off his oxygen. His head began to spin and black dots danced before his eyes. He wanted to scream at Shaun, warn him. But nothing came out. Almost as if in slow motion, he felt himself slipping away to the dark place from where he knew he’d never come back. 194

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Shaun… I’m sorry. So sorry. “Get off him you filthy pieces of shit!” The snarl, powerful and deadly and filled with an unholy rage, seemed to come from across a chasm. And yet, even from what felt like a great distance, it sent a shiver of fear through Rannon. The bodies on top of Rannon suddenly moved, releasing him. Godawful yelping noises and cougar screams filled his ears. But at last, blessed oxygen came rushing back to him. The moment the air hit his lungs, however, it turned to fire and brimstone, setting him ablaze from the inside out. His eyes burned and he choked and coughed, fighting the poison invading him. But with so little air already, it was useless. The harder he struggled to breathe, the worse it got. And it suddenly occurred to him… he must have died. And this was hell. As he writhed on the ground, dying all over again, Satan leaned over him, his eyes black as tar. He reached out and grasped Rannon by the shoulders, causing him to whimper in pain. But Satan didn’t stop. He dragged Rannon slowly, slowly over the cold, damp earth. When he finally paused, some irrational flicker in Rannon’s mind wondered why the ground would be cold and wet in hell. And then Satan was back, leaning over him again. Except… he didn’t seem so menacing this time. And his hands rubbing through Rannon’s fur didn’t hurt or torment, only soothed. Fresh air finally began to seep into Rannon’s tortured lungs. Little by little the dots in his vision cleared, and some semblance of sanity returned. He smelled the sharp tang of ozone in the air, saw a strange light shining on the trees. And the man above him no longer appeared intimidating at all… only tired, shaken, and very, very precious. 195

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It took almost all the energy he had left and an enormous amount of concentration through the blur of pain, but Rannon managed to shift back to his human form. “Shaun,” he croaked, his throat and lungs raw. Shaun’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him up into his lap, cradling him against his chest where he gently rocked him. “God, Rannon.” His voice shook. Rannon had never heard him sound so scared before. “I thought I’d lost you. I thought I was too late.” Rannon sank into the embrace, and for the first time all night, felt safe. Shaun held him and continued to rock, murmuring his name, pressing kisses to his temple. “How?” It was all Rannon could manage before he dissolved into a torturous fit of coughing. But Shaun somehow understood and knew what he’d meant. When Rannon’s coughing jag had subsided, he said, “I used the bear spray. I’m sorry, I know you breathed some, too. I tried to be careful, but the fog of it was dense. That’s why I dragged you away.” A vision filled Rannon’s mind of Norbert Grommet’s canister of bear repellent sitting on the kitchen counter in the cabin. Sweet Jesus. The bear spray. Shaun, knowing how little strength he had left, had risked his own life to enter the fray between feral Fels, and used the spray to save Rannon. The magnitude of what Shaun had done, his belief in Rannon in spite of the fact Rannon was a Fel as much as the others were, all of them the same type of creatures who’d killed Shaun’s parents, staggered him. “Thank you,” he murmured. The words weren’t enough. Not 196

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nearly enough. But they were all he could get out right now, and he just had to hope Shaun understood. The expression on Shaun’s face said he did. “All that stuff I said inside?” The reminder of the pain of Shaun’s words, and his decision to die rather than feed, hit Rannon hard, but he forced himself to nod. “Well, I was an ass.” Rannon’s heart stalled. “I can’t bear to lose you again either, Rann. When I thought you were going to die… God. I don’t want to be without you.” Emotion swept Rannon, thrumming in his aching chest, stinging his eyes. “You’ll stay with me?” he breathed, almost not daring to believe it. Shaun brought Rannon’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against his palm. His fangs scraped against it, but it didn’t hurt. It just… was. “Yes. Whatever it takes. But please… ” He drew in a deep, trembling breath. “Don’t ever scare me like that again.” “I’ll try not to,” he whispered as Shaun’s arms drew him in closer. “Where are the others?” “You’d already taken one of them down. He’s up on the porch. I nailed the other two with the spray. The old one took off at a run into the woods, screaming like some kind of otherworldly creature. I got him right in the face, so wherever he ends up, he won’t be functioning for a while. The younger one fell off you and was wallowing around on the ground whining, so I hit him on the head with the metal canister. He’s out cold.” Again Rannon was astounded at how much Shaun had accomplished. “You… did… great.” More coughing assailed him, but Shaun 197

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held him and rocked him until it passed. “We can’t stay here, Rann. The old guy’ll be back.” “I know.” “You’re badly injured. More than I think you realize. Hold on to me. I’m going to carry you to the truck.” “You… can’t, Shaun.” But he did. Somehow, in spite of his own body’s weakness, he seemed to dredge up some sort of last, desperate, super-human bit of strength, and he picked Rannon up in his arms. The sky chose that moment, after threatening all day, to open with a vengeance, and cold rain poured down over them.

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CHAPTER 12 The swish-swipe of the windshield wipers had mesmerizing powers. Which wasn’t a good thing. Not tonight when Shaun was finding it harder and harder to stay focused on the dark, winding road. The rain continued to pound down in Biblical proportions, pouring over the top of Rannon’s truck and rivering across the windows, making the wipers’ job almost impossible. But he forged on. Because right now he and Rannon were in the middle of fucking nowhere, so where were they going to stop anyway? Somehow, earlier tonight, Shaun had managed to put himself on autopilot. Since then, he’d been ignoring the steadily worsening signals from his over-stressed, under-nourished and under199

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hydrated body, and working off pure sense memory and adrenaline. But he wasn’t going to last much longer like this. He’d scraped the bottom of the adrenaline barrel by getting Rannon to the truck, dragging their bags out to it, and dealing with some Fel clean-up before they left the cabin. At this point, he honestly wasn’t sure what was fueling him or how he was still functioning. All he could figure was that it was just sheer fear for Rannon and the need to put some miles between them and the Fels. He’d been driving for over two hours… and he’d never felt so alone or so uncertain. Rannon’s body was trying to deal with the trauma of his injuries in its own way—through sleep. Shaun was glad, if for no other reason than he knew from recent experience that sleep was a great way of coping with pain. But the longer Rann slept, the farther apart from him Shaun felt. And the more he worried that he hadn’t done the right thing, agreeing to Rannon’s plan that they just drive and get as far away as possible and tend to his injuries later. He’d seen up close what the Fels had done to Rannon, had seen his battered and bloody body, held it in his arms. Rannon needed real first aid, which meant either a clean hotel room or a hospital. Rann had vetoed the hospital option because it would only put them on the map, make it easier for the Fels to find them and finish the job they started. Shaun had been torn over it, craving the assurance that Rannon was okay and none of his injuries were life threatening. But he knew Rann was right and that if they checked him into a hospital it would only be a matter of time before they had the Fels on them again. In the end he’d given in and let Rann have his way. Which left finding someplace along this godforsaken road where they could stop for the night. 200

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He glanced over at the younger man, whose body was slumped down in the passenger seat, covered by a sleeping bag Shaun had found in the rear seat, his head resting against the glass of the passenger door. Shaun reached over and brushed his fingers along Rannon’s exposed arm where it stuck out from under the sleeping bag, and his heart ached so badly he wished he could just tear it out to stop the pain. “Please be okay,” he whispered. “I meant what I said… I can’t lose you.” Was this how Rannon had felt during the twenty or so hours Shaun was unconscious? He suddenly understood with blunt clarity why Rannon had fought so hard with him about needing him to feed and live. Because right now, Shaun would give everything he had if it meant a guarantee he’d see those teasing green eyes open again, and hear that sultry drawl he loved. Then keep your eyes on the road and concentrate, his inner voice said, sounding like a nagging schoolmarm. Because his life is in your hands right now. If you lose control of yourself or this vehicle, it’s all over. Shaun’s pain haze was worse than it had been earlier in the night, encompassing his body to the point where it was taking everything he had to keep his eyes open and not give in to the urge to black out. Rannon’s warning that he might only have a day left before his body shut down completely stood front and center in his mind. And Rannon’s blood, so much blood, beckoned to him like crack. But there was no way in hell he was going to do anything about it. Not like this. Earlier tonight, after watching in awe as Rannon stepped fearlessly out onto the porch to confront the other Fels, seeing him, 201

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through a slit in the curtain, shift into what he could only describe as a beautiful and truly magnificent creature, and then almost losing him because Rannon had fought to keep Shaun safe, Shaun had been willing to do whatever Rannon wanted of him. He’d been willing to accept the changes in himself, trust Rannon when he said it would be okay, and feed from him, all so he would have a chance to open his eyes each day and know he had the man he’d always loved in his life. But now, there was no way Shaun would feed from him. Not when Rann was already injured and suffering. He would not risk Rannon’s life to save his own. “Where are we?” The soft, raspy whisper sent a jolt of shock, and then relief through Shaun. He turned to glance at Rannon and found him still snuggled into the sleeping bag, but his head now rested against the seat facing Shaun. Shaun reached across the console, seeking Rannon’s hand. When he found it, he wrapped his fingers around it and gave a gentle squeeze. Rannon squeezed back and offered him a tired smile. “We’re about seventy miles across the West Virginia border. I’ve been sticking to back roads in the mountains.” “You look exhausted,” Rannon said. “And so pale. How are you doin’?” “Hanging in there.” If it took denial and forcing himself to keep talking in order to keep Rannon from worrying about him, he’d do it. Because right now, Rannon needed him. “The better question is, how are you doing?” “I’m okay.” The words were soft, pain-filled. “You really are a bad liar, you know?” 202

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“You heard that did you? How much of the rest of it did you hear tonight?” “All of it.” “About Doyle, and the journal?” Shaun’s chest tightened. “Yeah.” “I found the envelope it was in, at least I assume it was, so he wasn’t lying. Doyle really had planned to mail it to you.” Shaun glanced at Rannon. “Where did you find the envelope?” “In the Fel’s car. The day you got here—God, when was that? I’ve lost track of time. Was it just yesterday?” “Yeah, yesterday.” “I have to tell you somethin’, Shaun.” His hand shook, where it clung to Shaun’s. “You might not like it. But I don’t want any more secrets between us.” Shaun rubbed his fingers over Rannon’s, trying to soothe him. A small smile curved his lips. “Sweetheart, I don’t see how there could possibly be any biggies left. You told me I’m a bloodsucking vampire thing and that you’re a shapeshifting cat. Unless you plan to tell me we have an alien love child somewhere, pretty much anything else from here on out is going to be anticlimactic.” Rannon’s soft snort of laughter was the best the thing he’d heard all night, and Shaun vowed to do everything he could to keep Rannon smiling as much as possible. Because when that crooked grin lit up his face, it made Shaun believe that maybe, somehow, there might still be a way for everything to work out. “So lay it on me. Give me your worst.” Rannon sighed. “Okay. I followed you to Dreamspell because when I got to your apartment in DC the morning after you got back from Nepal, I smelled a Fel on the hunt. Its scent was everywhere around your apartment building and it scared me. I was afraid I 203

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might already be too late. I talked to your landlady and she told me where you’d gone, so I drove like a madman down here, hopin’ and prayin’ I’d get to you before the Fel did. He was layin’ in wait for you outside the church when you drove up. I got to him just before he sprang out and attacked you. I fought with him… and… ” He drew in a ragged breath. “And I killed him. If I hadn’t, he would have killed me and then gone right back to you. That’s why I had to leave you at the cemetery. I had to go bury his body before someone found it.” The truck was silent as Shaun let Rannon’s confession sink in. How bizarre. Two days ago he would have been appalled at the thought of Rannon or anyone else taking a life. Yet after seeing how hell-bent the three Fels had been tonight on destroying Rannon, destroying him, Shaun’s perception had shifted dramatically. He now understood that this new reality he’d inherited wasn’t one that anyone could last in very long with rosecolored glasses. This reality was fierce and primal, with one species hunting the other, hell-bent on exterminating them, and the other species fighting for their very lives. He, who’d always been a pacifist in his human life—he had to smile as he realized how far he’d already come when he could refer to his past as his “human” life without tripping over the oddity of that—would have done whatever it took tonight, including killing, in order to keep Rannon safe. So, oddly, it wasn’t the violence that jumped out at him about Rannon’s confession. It was the reason behind it… “You were watching my back even before I knew it,” he said to Rannon, warmth spreading through his chest. “Yeah… about that. There’s more.” More? “Okay… ” 204

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“I was in Nepal with you, too.” Okay, he hadn’t seen that one coming. But then, somehow, it, too, made a kind of crazy sense. “The snow leopard,” he said softly, remembering it, how it had never been far away, and had seemed so lonely. “Yeah,” Rannon said softly. “You’re not freaked?” Somehow a chuckle found its way out, and it felt good, almost healing. “I think my freak-out meter sort of got reset twenty-four hours ago.” Another rush of warmth surged through him. “You were there for the whole month?” “Mm-hmm.” “How? I mean, how did that happen, and why didn’t you tell me? Why wait until we were back before you approached me?” “It’s kind of a long story.” “We’re trapped in your truck in the middle of nowhere. No time like the present.” Rannon sighed. “Speaking of my truck, you might as well know… I pretty much live out of it.” “I thought that might be the case.” “Oh God, am I that pathetic?” “No.” Shaun rubbed his thumb across the back of Rannon’s hand. “There’s nothing pathetic about you at all. Christ, Rannon, you’re the bravest, smartest, most compassionate person I’ve ever known. You’ve put up with a lot of shit in your life, had a lot of people try to beat you down, and you’ve never let them. You’ve stuck to your beliefs even though you had an entire culture breathing down your neck trying to force you to conform. I heard that bastard Gamble tonight, talking about how he and your pa were disgusted with you as a kid because you were squeamish about what they did. You never went hunting, did you?” 205

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“Never. I hated it. Always. It made me sick what they did to the Mals.” He paused, and when he spoke again his voice was uncertain. “Can I ask you a question?” “Anything.” “Earlier, you said you tried to find me?” “Several times over the years. But it’s like you didn’t exist. And now I think I understand why. You’ve been keeping your head down so your family doesn’t find you, haven’t you? Moving around, flying under the radar. Hence the living out of your truck?” “Yeah. I left home when I was eighteen, and I’ve been off the grid ever since because my old man, he just doesn’t give up. Fels are tight-knit and secretive. He’s afraid if I’m not with ’em, I’ll talk and expose ’em. And now… ” “Do you think he’s really put a price on your head?” “Since he seems to know about what happened in Oklahoma, yeah, I’m sure he has.” “You want to talk about it?” “Five weeks ago I was working at a diner in Oklahoma. I had the late shift and was alone and finishing up the cleanin’ when this gal came to the door and started banging on it. I told her we were closed, but she was terrified, said she was being chased. So I let her in. When I opened the door, I picked up a scent of a Fel and knew instantly the Fel was hunting her.” “She was a Mal?” “Yeah. I took her through to the kitchen and told her to hide and stay quiet. I turned off all the lights, hoping the Fel would pass on by. But he had her scent and knew she’d come in, so he broke in. The moment I saw him, my heart practically stopped beating. It was my cousin Lyle.” “I remember him. Big kid with a Mohawk and a perpetual 206

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sneer on his face. A few years older than us.” “Yeah… we always kind of had a mutual hate thing going on. He detested me ’cause I was ‘puny’ as he called it and didn’t conform to the family passion, and I hated him ’cause he was a big bully who fell out of the stupid tree and hit every branch on the way down.” A smile twitched at Shaun’s lips. “That night, at the diner,” Rannon continued, “he came in after the girl. He knew I was there.” “He smelled you?” “No, I mean, yeah, I’m sure he did. But I mean he actually knew I was there… it was a set-up. I’d been hiding and on the run for over ten years, Shaun. Covering my tracks, never staying anywhere long enough for them to catch up to me. It was sheer bad luck that I happened to be working in a town where he was hunting. He’d seen me earlier in the day through the diner window and thought it was his chance to score big with my old man and his by being the one to bring me in. So he herded the gal to the diner, knowing she’d try to get in when she saw the light. He had some lame-ass plan that he’d convince me to share in the hunt with him and I’d miraculously be converted. It threw him when I refused to give her up. It got ugly, we both shifted and fought. He got away from me and grabbed the girl, but I got to them in time and… and he didn’t give me any choice.” Rannon’s voice deepened with sorrow. “I couldn’t let her die. She was young, probably just a little over thirty, and innocent. She hadn’t done anything wrong except, like you, being born with the damn Mal curse. Lyle wouldn’t walk away. He would have torn her apart… and I couldn’t let him.” “What happened to the girl” 207

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“She was terrified because, of course, she’d seen me shift and knew I was a Fel, too. But I managed to get her into my truck— I’m sure she thought I was taking her off to kill her somewhere else. I drove her to a town a hundred miles or so up the road, gave her some money, and told her to run.” “You’re a good man, Rannon James.” Rannon sighed so heavily Shaun looked over at him to be sure he was okay. “Lyle shifted back to human before he died. He told me he knew about us, you and me, back in Brill. Said he’d seen us together.” “Like seen us together… at the pond?” “Yeah. He said he’d spied on us several times. It made me so angry, Shaun. The time we had together was special, perfect—and I don’t care how lame or sappy that sounds because it’s true. And to find out that that asshole Lyle was watchin’ us… it makes me sick. Makes me feel like he turned something so innocent and perfect into somethin’ dirty.” “It was perfect. And they’re our memories, not his. Just because he watched doesn’t change how it was for us. Don’t let him take that away from you.” “I know. But I still hate it,” he whispered. “He told me something else that night, though. Something that scared the crap out of me.” “What?” “He said he knew your dad was a Mal, which meant you were gonna be one, too. And that my pa knew it as well, and knew where you were living now, and was going to go after you.” “How did he know?” “I’m not sure—he didn’t say. The thing about Lyle was, you never could be certain what was truth and what was lies. He 208

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always had a bigger mouth than he had brains, and he was long on bluster and short on nerve. He might have legitimately known about Doyle, or he might have just been making it up and saying it for meanness to scare me, so I’d think my teenage lover was one of the “bad guys.” His way of getting back at me, the puny runt, for being the one to take him down. But the thing is… it did scare me. “I was a mess that night, Shaun. It was the first time I’d ever taken a life. You have to trust me when I tell you that it’s not somethin’ I’d ever expected to have to do or ever wanted to do again. I was horrified at what I’d done. And I was terrified that he might have been tellin’ the truth about my old man knowin’ about you and where you were. So I drove straight to DC to see you, to make sure you were alive and safe. I got there the morning you were leaving for Nepal. You were outside, loading your car with your gear, and giving your landlady all your travel info, where you staying, how long you’d be gone. Then before I could talk to you, you got in your car and drove off. Following you was a spur of the moment decision. I was afraid to let you go away for a month where I’d have no way of knowing if you were in trouble. So I scraped together all the cash I had and followed you.” “You had a passport?” “Yeah. Well, I’m not going to lie to you, it’s forged.” He looked at Shaun apologetically. “I’ve been living off the grid, remember? I’d used it before though, to get into Mexico and Canada, so I just did what I had to do, you know?” Another smile teased at Shaun’s lips. He couldn’t be upset. Frankly, he was happy Rannon was so adept at looking out for himself, however he had to, if it meant it had kept him out of his abusive father’s hands all these years. “Why didn’t you approach me in Nepal? Why the stealth?” 209

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“Yeah, right. Like, after fourteen years, I’m just gonna happen to show up in Nepal of all places? What was I supposed to say? Hi, remember me, and by the way, I’m here in this foreign country stalkin’ you?” Shaun chuckled again. “Okay, point taken.” “God, I love the sound of your laugh.” Shaun squeezed his hand. “I love that you can still make me laugh.” “I know you’re sufferin’, Shaun. You’re great at pretendin’, but it’s me and you’re not foolin’ me. How bad is it?” Shaun sobered. “I’m okay, Rann.” “No, you’re not. We’ve got to get out of this truck. You’re not gonna make it much longer behind the wheel.” He didn’t bother to argue further because Rannon was right, and they both knew it. “I saw a sign a little way back that said there’s a town, finally, a few miles ahead.” Of course that didn’t mean it was big enough to have a motel, but for both their sakes, Shaun had to hope. Ten minutes later, the Sunny Acres Inn actually didn’t look too bad from the outside. Hard to see too much in the dark and through the deluge, but the long, one-story building seemed well kept, with neatly trimmed hedges surrounding it. Shaun pulled up near the entrance and shut off the engine. With the motor silent, the pattering of the rain on the roof and hood was even more pronounced. Shaun reached for his seat belt, but Rannon stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’ll go in. I’m worried about you.” “Says the man who’s nude under the sleeping bag, can barely walk, is bruised, battered, and bleeding from I don’t even want to think about how many deep bites and scratches and other horrors. 210

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Don’t even talk to me about being worried, because right now, my worry pretty much trumps yours.” Rannon sighed. “But what about you?” he said quietly, and Shaun knew he was referring to Shaun’s not-so-human features at the moment. He picked up Rannon’s sunglasses off the dash and slipped them on, then pulled up the hood of the jacket he’d thrown on before they left the cabin. “They’ll just think I’m a crack addict or something.” “Oh, great. In that case, they might just end up callin’ the cops.” Shaun leaned over the console and brushed a kiss against his hair. “It’ll be fine. Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” Though it took pretty much the last of his strength, he climbed out of the truck and tried not to let Rannon see how much he wanted to double over in pain. He returned less than five minutes later, soaked to the bone. As he slid back into the seat, he pulled off the sunglasses and wiped the rain out of his eyes, then handed Rannon a card key. “The guy was engrossed in the TV. Didn’t even look at me. Took the cash, handed me a pen to sign the sheet, and then gave me the key.” His eyes burning and the blackness encroaching with a vengeance now, he managed to drive around to the back of the building and park the truck between a stand of black oak and hickory trees and a Dumpster. Shaun slid out again, dragging in shallow breaths, and forced his legs to carry him through the puddles and around the truck to the passenger side. He opened the door and, trying to keep the sleeping bag around Rannon for warmth, wrapped an arm around him and helped him out. Rannon slid to the ground on bare feet, 211

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and winced as he straightened. Shaun knew movement was probably tearing open all the wounds again. “I’ll come back for our bags in a little while,” Shaun murmured. He didn’t want to admit to Rannon that he wasn’t sure he could even carry them at all. Once in the room, which Shaun was glad to see was reasonably clean and comfortable-looking, with a neatly turned down king bed, Rannon went straight to the bathroom, dropping the wet sleeping bag along the way. Shaun followed him, unable to tear his eyes off the beautifully formed body and pale skin that should have been flushed and healthy, but was now horribly slashed and bruised and bleeding. Utter fury at what the Fels had done to Rannon rocked through him, leaving him shaking. He wanted to go back to the cabin, force a replay, and kill them all… watch them as they struggled while the blood ran out of their bodies. This was Rannon, his Rannon, and because Shaun had been too weak to fight his own battles and stand up for himself, Rannon had done it for him, and they’d torn him apart. But what made it all even worse, made him hate himself, was that under all his outrage and sorrow… the demon in him savored the sight and smell of the blood. It was like nectar, sweet-smelling and luring him in like a fly. My God, stop already! Rannon bent over at the tub and reached for the knobs, but when Shaun saw his hands trembling, he leaned past him and started the water flowing. When he had it adjusted to a comfortable heat, he gripped Rann under the elbow. “Come on, let’s get you in.” He helped him step over the edge. 212

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There was no way Rannon could stand for a shower, so Shaun seated him on the tub bottom and Rannon immediately drew up his knees and rested his head on them. Shaun grabbed a surprisingly fluffy white washcloth off the stack on the shelf and wet it under the flow of water from the faucet. “This is probably going to sting. I’m sorry,” he murmured. He squeezed the washcloth and, as carefully as he could, let it trickle over a deep, painful looking bite swelling on Rannon’s shoulder. Shaun knew it had to hurt like hell. Rannon hissed, but otherwise didn’t cry out. His eyes closed and stayed tightly closed as Shaun repeated the action over and over on that and his many other wounds. The blood made Shaun light-headed and nauseous. His mouth was dry, it grew harder and harder to breathe, and he could hear his own heart pounding erratically. But somehow he managed to keep wetting the cloth, squeezing it, and watching the fine, crimson streams slide down Rannon’s pale skin into miniature eddies in the water, flow along toward the front of the tub, and disappear down the drain. “Let me see your throat, Rann,” he rasped, stroking Rannon’s hair. Eyes still closed, Rannon raised his head, and let Shaun tend to his throat as well. It was swollen and aside from the bite marks, a heavy purple bruise was forming low across it, as if he’d been strangled. Which he very nearly had. Thank God the Fel’s teeth had missed his windpipe and any major veins and arteries. The mottling blurred together with the island chain of dark hickeys Shaun had given him that started at his throat and painted a dark blotchy path up the side of his neck to just beneath his ear. The sight of the hickeys both sickened and aroused Shaun, and 213

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he hated himself for feeling the stirring of possessive heat right now. When he’d rinsed and dabbed all Rannon’s wounds until they were clean and only fresh blood seeped from them, Shaun closed the stopper on the tub and let the tub begin to fill. He unwrapped a fresh cake of soap from the little basket that sat on the bathroom cabinet filled with soaps and small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and lotion. He picked up the shampoo as well and set both items on the edge of the tub. Then he kicked off his soaked sneakers and stripped out of his clothes. Every movement took steam he no longer had, but he wouldn’t desert Rannon now. Though it would just be even more torture to be so close to him, Shaun knew he needed to be in there with Rannon to help him bathe. He eased into the tub behind Rannon’s water-warmed body, and scooted forward until his legs bracketed Rannon’s smaller frame. He stroked his hip and gently kissed a spot on the younger man’s non-injured shoulder, one of the few places on his back that was unblemished by violence. Rannon lifted his head off his knees, and leaned back into Shaun. Shaun tried to be careful not to get too close to him and put any pressure on his injuries, but Rannon didn’t seem concerned about it. He rested his head against Shaun’s shoulder with a sigh. The heat of his sleek, wet body pressed so close, and the scent of his blood, hot and thick, was a torment like nothing Shaun had ever experienced. “We always seem to end up in the bathroom, don’t we?” Rannon said softly. “Yeah. Not sure how that keeps happening.” 214

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Speaking took energy Shaun didn’t really have. He tried closing his eyes, but it didn’t help anything. His body began to tremble. Rannon turned slightly, and Shaun felt the warmth of his hand stroke his cheek. “I don’t know how you’ve held out this long. Stop torturing yourself,” Rannon said. “I’ll… ” He swallowed hard, still not opening his eyes. He knew if he even looked at Rannon right now he’d lose it. “I’ll be okay.” “No, you won’t. Shaun, I’m right here in front of you. You’ve just spent the past half-hour taking care of me. You’ve gone above and beyond tonight with what you did at the cabin and in getting us here, and I appreciate it more than you know. But now it’s my turn to take care of you. It’s what we both want. It’s the way it was meant to be. Do it.” “No! My God, Rann… ” His eyes flickered open. “Look at you. You’re torn apart from those damn Fels. You’re already in pain. You’ve already lost blood tonight. I can’t—” “Yes, you can.” Rannon’s voice was calm. Firm. He turned until his back was to Shaun again, then he tilted his head to the side, exposing the line of his neck and the artery pulsing along it. “You need to stop worrying about hurting me. I’m a Fel, not a human. I was born exactly for you to do this. You feeding from me… it isn’t a hardship. Remember in the bathroom at the cabin? You know what happened to me when you sucked on my neck. The harder you sucked, the more turned on I got.” “There’s a big difference between giving you hickeys, even dark ones, and actually biting into your skin and drinking your blood,” Shaun whispered. “Is there? Because just talking about it… ” He grabbed Shaun’s 215

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hand and pulled it around between his parted thighs Shaun’s breath caught as his fingers brushed over the shockingly turgid length of Rannon’s cock. “You’re… ” “Oh yeah.” Rannon’s voice was hoarse, and Shaun was pretty damn sure it wasn’t just because of the lungful of pepper spray he’d breathed earlier. “I want this, Shaun. I want you. You promised me you’d stay with me, so now’s the time to put that promise into action.” “God, Rannon… ” Shaun’s own dick was already stiffening as he stroked Rannon’s. “But you’re so weak already.” “I’m tired, but I’m not going to die from any of these stupid injuries. Right now, the only thing I need, babe, is you.” “What if I don’t stop in time?” “You will.” “How will I know?” “Shaun! You’ll know.” Reaching up and behind him, he curled his arm around Shaun’s neck. He turned his head and, pulling Shaun closer, brushed his lips over Shaun’s. Then he did it again, more firmly, not the least bit intimidated by his fangs. He gazed into Shaun’s eyes with a looked that shot fire through Shaun. “Do you need me to say it?” “Yes,” Shaun breathed, his entire body practically vibrating. “Take me, Shawn.” His sexy drawl curled up along Shaun’s spine, electrifying every nerve ending. “Feed from me, Fuck me. I’m all yours.” “Christ!” It was the last sane thought he had. He wrapped his arm around Rannon, lowered his mouth to his neck, and bit down.

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CHAPTER 13 The dark, rich taste flowed over Shaun’s tongue and down his throat, and in that moment of bliss, he had no idea why he’d been so afraid of it. The heat of the liquid hit his stomach and, within seconds, tendrils of warmth began to spread through him, curling out from his gut to his lungs, his heart, his limbs. His groin. For the first time in days the searing pain inside him eased. As it did, Shaun became even more aware of the man in his arms. The man who was his everything. Rannon had stiffened and cried out, clutching Shaun’s arm that held him in place, when Shaun’s teeth sank into him. But true to his word, he hadn’t pulled away. And now, each time Shaun sucked deeply, drawing more of Rannon’s lifeblood into his own body, Rannon’s hips rose, pushing 217

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his erection into Shaun’s hand, and he moaned in raw and obvious pleasure. A quiet one Rannon was not—never had been—and, fuck, Shaun loved that about him. Loved knowing simply from the sound of his voice just how deep his pleasure ran. It was such a turn-on, especially when Rann completely lost control, like now, and every whimper, every groan, every breath vibrated with desire. Shaun had been so afraid of hurting Rannon, and instead, found himself caught in a loop of endless, earthy passion with the man. He sucked, Rannon moaned and fucked his hand. And Shaun’s cock, caught between the surging give-and-take of their bodies, leaked seed into the water and against Rannon’s back. Rannon had been right—the intimacy of the feeding, intertwined with the sex, was the most erotic thing Shaun had ever experienced. All his fears fled, and in their place something new sparked to life. A glow. Like a flame inside him had been lit. And at the flame’s core, spun a sphere. And in the sphere, like yin and yang, the essence of two souls curled around each other. Two, and yet they were really one. He knew, without question, without doubt, without even fully understanding it, that in this act they shared tonight, he and Rannon had somehow, permanently, become part of each other. “Shaun… God Shaun, don’t ever stop.” He didn’t know if Rannon meant don’t stop touching him or don’t stop feeding from him… and he didn’t know if it even mattered. Because right now, they were one and the same. The only thing that mattered was the bond between Rannon and him. In this moment in time, Shaun’s world boiled down to the feel of Rannon’s thick cock sliding in his hand, the taste and texture of the 218

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warm coppery liquid on his tongue, and the sound of Rannon’s rapture coiling around them. “I need you in me,” Rannon said, his voice quavering, his tone somewhere between commanding and pleading. He reached behind him and wrapped his arm around Shaun’s neck again, but this time instead of turning to kiss him, he held Shaun’s head in place so he didn’t have to stop feeding, then pulled Shaun with him as he moved forward onto his hands and knees. With a quick turn of his hand, Rannon shut off the water. The tub was just an inch or so shy of overflowing, and it lapped around their legs in a sensual caress. On his knees now, too, Shaun pressed against Rannon’s thighs, and let his erection glide along his crease, up, down, up, down, the globes of Rannon’s ass erotically cradling the stiff length. Rannon trembled and continued to moan, his noises a paean of pleasure and praise. Sated enough for the moment to come up for air, Shaun raised his mouth off Rannon’s neck. “No! Please… please don’t stop!” Rannon begged, his reaction instant and vocal. “Shhh. It’s okay,” Shaun crooned, rubbing Rannon’s lower back. Using his thumb, he spread several drops of pre-cum spilling from his slit over the head of his cock, and then added spit to the mix until he was reasonably slick. Rannon’s ass, so fucking beautiful in front of him, made little pumping motions back toward him, urging him to return. Smiling, Shaun guided the tip of his dick to the pink, clenching circle. Rannon’s arm reached back for him. His voice was hoarse, pleading. “I need you. I want you in me. I want your mouth on me 219

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again. God, Shaun, fuck me.” Lust and love surged anew in Shaun at Rannon’s desperation. “I know, baby.” He leaned down and kissed Rannon’s neck. “You’ll get it,” he promised. “Anything you want, Rann. Everything you want.” Rannon shuddered, and Shaun took advantage of the moment to press the head of his cock into Rannon’s tight, hot passage. At the same time, he nuzzled in against Rannon’s neck on the other side, and buried his teeth in him again. “Oh my God… ” Rannon’s body tensed, and then surged back against Shaun’s invasion. Slowly, inch by inch, his body swallowed Shaun’s length. By the time Shaun was fully seated inside him they were both breathing hard from the raw pleasure of it. The pressure, the heat, the motion from Rannon’s spasming muscles was too much to stay still, though. Shaun slid partially out, then delved deeply into Rannon again, eliciting another breathless cry, and another, and another. The sounds drove Shaun on. He set a punishing pace, unable and unwilling now to temper his need as the most primal urges within him took over. Each mouthful of hot life flowing over his tongue filled him with new strength and ever deepening satisfaction. Rannon matched him thrust for thrust, seemingly as lost in the haze of passion as he. The welcoming heat of his body surrounded Shaun, inviting him ever deeper into the dark sensuality that held them both in its embrace. Water sloshed around them. Steam swirled in the air. The scent of soap and blood and arousal twined through Shaun’s senses. He felt and tasted every beat of Rannon’s heart, shared every breath he 220

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took. And when Rannon reached between his own legs to grasp his thick, swollen rod, Shaun was there, too, covering Rannon’s hands with his own and they both stroked him in firm motions. “Can’t last… ” Rannon whimpered. And with a sudden, almost violent, contraction that rippled through both their bodies, Rannon cried out Shaun’s name, and climaxed, his cum shooting hot and sticky all over their hands. Within seconds, the spark that had been building at the base of Shaun’s spine, flared into a conflagration, seared through his testicles, up his shaft, and then he, too, shattered, pumping his offering deep into Rannon’s body. Blood, breath, life. Rannon was right. It was exactly how it was meant to be. Shaun lifted his mouth from Rannon’s neck and dragged air into his lungs. He licked around the wound, savoring every last droplet of the sweet crimson liquid, and as he did, was shocked to discover that where he licked, Rannon’s skin healed, until no trace of the bite remained. Beneath him, Rannon trembled and he seemed to be struggling for breath. For a terrifying moment Shaun was afraid he’d pushed Rannon too far, taken too much. But then Rann’s arm came up around his neck, his head turned, and his mouth sought and found Shaun’s in a deep, impassioned kiss. It wasn’t until then Shaun realized that, for the first time in more than twenty-four hours, his fangs had retracted, the pain and anger burning inside him were gone, and he kissed Rannon as a human. *

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The kiss went on forever, tongues teasing and tangling, lips caressing, soft sighs. Shaun had always been an amazing kisser, and Rannon had missed it. Missed him so much. He tried to tell Shaun as much through the kiss, pouring all his love into it, hoping Shaun understood. Their mouths clung together. But when they finally parted, and he looked into Shaun’s warm, emotional, blue-eyed gaze, he knew Shaun had understood. They both smiled at the same time. “Hi,” Rannon said softly, caressing Shaun’s bearded cheek. “Hi yourself.” Shaun turned his head and pressed a kiss into Rannon’s palm. He was still inside Rannon and one warm, callused hand caressed his hip. “Thank you,” he said, his gaze smoldering with love and lingering passion. “For what, babe?” “For sharing yourself with me. For showing me the light. For kicking my ass and not letting me die.” Warmth spread through Rannon. “You’re welcome. Thank you for trusting me. And for savin’ my life tonight.” “Rann… ” Shaun’s voice was soft and hoarse. “God, I love you.” Rannon’s chest hitched. “I love you, too. Always have.” “So many years lost,” Shaun whispered. “So many years we could have had together. I never should have left you, Rannon. I should have found a way to stay or to take you with me.” Rannon stroked his cheek. “Maybe we needed that time, Shaun. Maybe… I don’t know… maybe, if we’d found a way to stay together back then we wouldn’t have lasted. Maybe the years apart gave us a chance to become the men we are now, who have a better appreciation for the things that are important.” “That’s a lot of maybes.” 222

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Rannon smiled. “Yeah, well, I’m graspin’ here.” Then he sobered. “I’m just grateful that we’re together now, Shaun. There’s always gonna be a part of me that wonders what might have been, but what’s important now is us at this point in time and where we go from here.” “There you go being all wise again.” “I’ve gotta sneak in my moments where I can get ’em. Have to be careful, though, ’cause otherwise I might ruin my reputation as a redneck hick.” “You’re reputation’s safe with me. I won’t say a word,” Shaun rumbled as he kissed Rannon’s neck and nuzzled against his ear, sending new sparks through Rannon. With a low groan, Shaun eased back and his softening cock slid free of Rannon’s body. “I would have been completely happy for you to stay inside me all night,” Rannon said, feeling empty already. “Me, too. How come our superpowers don’t come with a stayhard-all-night booster pack?” “It’s an upgrade. You can get it down at the CVS. It’s called Viagra.” Shaun chuckled and gently slapped Rannon’s rear. “Smart ass.” Rannon smiled and stretched. He was still on his hands and knees, and probably should change position, but moving required energy and he was pretty sapped at the moment, in a good way. The water in the tub, what they hadn’t sloshed out, was still fairly warm. Plus, he wasn’t really that uncomfortable with one of Shaun’s arms around his waist supporting him. Shaun’s free hand certainly seemed to be happy rubbing his lower back and caressing his ass, which was all just fine with Rannon. “You okay? You comfortable?” Shaun asked. 223

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“Mm-hmm.” Shaun kissed his shoulder, the one with the particularly nasty bite that throbbed. He took his time, teasing his tongue around the edges of the bite and over it. Rannon thought it odd that it didn’t sting when it really should have. But instead, as Shaun moved to the next wound, he realized that everywhere Shaun licked and kissed felt tingly and pleasant. And though it wasn’t sexual, exactly, it created a quiet, steady glow inside him that was one part arousal and two parts contentment. He closed his eyes and savored it. “What are you doing back there?” he murmured. “Kissing ’em and making ’em better.” Rannon smiled. “It doesn’t hurt, does it? To have me touching them like this?” “No. It feels nice.” He dropped his head and relaxed, trusting Shaun’s arm around him to hold him up. He didn’t know how long he hung there with Shaun gently kissing and licking and caressing him. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been all night. Rannon’s mind floated, he might have even drifted off for a while, putting all his faith in Shaun’s ability to keep him from drowning. Eventually, he came back to himself when Shaun leaned over him and whispered in his ear. “I think you were sleeping, sweetheart.” He could hear a smile in Shaun’s voice and it caused his groin to pulse. “Feel any better?” “Mmmm.” Rannon stretched again, and was surprised to realize he did. The sharp pains and dull aches that had plagued him since his fight with the Fels had eased, and in some cases disappeared completely. “Wow,” he said softly, tensing and 224

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releasing his back and shoulder and arm muscles, testing them. “Yeah, much. What did you do?” “I told you… I kissed ’em better.” There was that smile in his voice again. “Come on,” he tugged Rannon up with his arm. “The water’s getting cold. Let’s get you upright and warm again.” He unstoppered the drain, and pulled Rannon up and into his arms. Rannon felt a bit light-headed, but again, the pain was barely there. Except for his throat, which still throbbed like a son of a bitch. But it was probably the worst of all the bites and bruises and scratches, and would take a while to heal. Shaun leaned over and turned on the water again, and adjusted the temperature. Then, with his hand poised over the knob that would switch the flow from the faucet to the shower, he looked up at Rannon and said, “Ready?” Rannon nodded and angled himself so the first spray from the shower wouldn’t hit him in the face or directly on any of his injuries, knowing they would sting like hell if it did. But again, oddly, even though some of the water still hit his shoulder, it didn’t bother him. Shaun straightened and turned Rannon toward him. He kissed him. “There’s just one more I couldn’t get to before.” Rannon shook his head, not following. “Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?” Shaun just smiled. He cupped the back of Rannon’s neck, drawing him closer and tilting his head back, then lowered his lips to Rannon’s throat. Rannon tensed, expecting even the light pressure of Shaun’s kiss to hurt, but it wasn’t bad. And then, as he had on Rannon’s back, Shaun’s eased his tongue over the bite, then broadened his attention, licking and kissing what felt like Rannon’s entire throat. 225

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The same warm, tingly feeling Rannon had felt earlier returned, and he closed his eyes, letting Shaun’s attention soothe him. All Shaun’s different sides, now that he walked the same blurry line as Rannon, balancing with one foot in the human world and one in the supernatural world, were such a fascinating contradiction. The Shaun at the cabin had displayed powerful aggression when the bloodlust was on him—he’d been demanding, predatory, and pure alpha male that night on the bathroom counter. Then tonight, he’d still been fierce, but his power had been more controlled. Even when his feral side had been calling the shots, as he’d been feeding with the power of the blood full on him, the Shaun Rannon had always loved was still present, stroking his back, making sure Rannon found his own pleasure, calling Rannon “baby” and telling him he could have whatever he wanted. A wave of heat spread through Rannon at the memory. Sweet Jesus, he was getting hard again just thinking about it. And now the human Shaun, gentle and tender, kissing and teasing and smiling his way straight to Rannon’s heart. Very different sides of the same man… and Rannon loved him completely. Shaun kissed his way up until his lips hovered just above Rannon’s. “How’s your throat feel now?” Rannon blinked himself back to the here and now—once again it felt like he’d drifted away for a while. He swallowed, which before had hurt, and now it didn’t. Nor was his throat throbbing like it had been just a few minutes ago. He reached up to gingerly touch it… and didn’t believe it at first when he felt almost no pain as his fingertips explored. “What the… ?” Suddenly, curiosity about his other wounds urged him to check them since they were no longer giving him much pain either. He 226

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reached over his shoulder to probe at the bite there, and again… nothing. No major pain, no swelling, not even scabs. The same thing on each of the other spots where he knew he’d been clawed or bitten. Even the gouge from his first Fel fight at the cemetery— gone. He met with a tiny bit of tenderness in a few spots, but for the most part, it was if an eraser had slid over his battered body and wiped it clean of the violence. He stared at Shaun, shock pinging through him. “What did you do?” Shaun’s expression looked like he was caught somewhere between feeling sheepish and pleased. “I noticed after I fed from you earlier, that when I licked over the puncture wounds, they closed over. I just assumed that was normal for Mals?” Now he looked uncertain. “So I thought… if it worked on the bite marks from me, what would it hurt to try it on your other wounds.” Rannon stood looking at him, stunned at this new development. A frown marred Shaun’s forehead. “I take it from the way you’re looking at me this isn’t normal for Mals?” “No, it’s not. I’ve never heard of anything like it. My God. Shaun… ” A frisson of excitement spread through Rannon, and something that could only be pride welled in his chest. “So… what does this mean?” Shaun asked, studying Rannon like he wasn’t sure whether he should be worried or glad. Rannon reached for him, sliding his fingers through Shaun’s wet hair. “I think it means you really are a superhero,” he whispered, smiling. “And I’m damn lucky to have you in my life.” Shaun’s gaze, so full of love and the steady heat of banked desire, caused Rannon’s throat to fill with emotion and his belly to tighten with need. Shaun leaned in and his mouth closed over Rannon’s. 227

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For long minutes they simply stood there under the shower kissing… slowly, passionately, hands exploring the dips and hollows of one another’s bodies, all with gentle caresses and no sense of urgency. Oh, a fire burned between them, no doubt. But sometimes letting it simmer only made it better later. And to Rannon, right now, it seemed as if they were both simply grateful for being close and alive and together. Eventually, as the water grew cooler, they made more utilitarian use of the shower, soaping, shampooing, rinsing each other, but the closeness never faded. After they’d finally shut off the water, stepped out, and dried off, Shaun backed him up against the sink and kissed him again until Rannon was breathless. Then he picked him up, much as he had in the shower at the cabin. “Wrap your legs around me and hold on.” Rannon did and smiled as Shaun carried him out of the bathroom. “What are you doing?” “I’m taking you to bed where I’m going to spread you out on a soft mattress, for the first time ever in our relationship, and spend the rest of the night showing you in every damn way I can think of just how much I love you.” Rannon’s chest tightened with emotion, and the need in his belly became a full-blown ache. As the rain poured down outside, Shaun made good on his promise. And the carefully banked coals that had been smoldering between them, sparked into a fresh, all-consuming flame.

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CHAPTER 14 Rannon awoke to softness beneath him, and the drowsy warmth of sunlight on his back. He cracked open his eyelids to find he lay on his stomach in the middle of the king-size bed, completely nude except for a sheet tangled around his feet. The curtain on the motel window had been pulled back, allowing a shaft of the late morning sun to shine into the room. It felt good. All of it. Except for the part where he was alone in the bed. He turned his head and spied the object of his desire sprawled across the armchair in the corner of the room, dressed in low-slung jeans, and a black T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and biceps. He was barefoot, and held a notebook in his hands. No, not a 229

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notebook… a sketchbook. Rannon’s sketchbook. “See anythin’ you like?” Rannon asked, resting his head on his arms. When he saw Rannon awake, a smile curved Shaun’s lips. The sight sent a bolt of need straight to Rannon’s core. Considering he was already sporting morning wood as it was… Rannon decided it was probably a good thing he was lying front-down on the bed. “Hey you.” Shaun’s voice was gravelly and warm and, damn it, made Rannon want him all the more in spite of the fact they’d been up half the night. Shaun’s gaze roamed over Rannon with a heated mixture of love and lust. “I see a whole lot I like.” Rannon smiled. “Perv. I meant in the sketchbook.” Shaun glanced down at it, then back at Rannon with an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to snoop. When I was bringing our bags in I saw it tucked down in the side pocket of yours, and I guess my curiosity got the best of me.” “It’s okay. What’s mine is yours. I don’t have any more secrets from you, Shaun.” Shaun’s smile this time sent a swell of love straight to Rannon’s heart. Shaun held up the book to show the page he had it opened to. “Is this how I really look?” The picture was of Shaun in Thamel, Kathmandu, just a couple of days before they returned to the States. It was Rannon’s favorite of the ones he’d drawn in Nepal. Shaun sat at a table in Pilgrims Feed N Read, a popular restaurant with travelers that was attached to a bookstore. In the drawing, Shaun held a book in one hand, and his chin rested on his other upturned hand. But rather than reading the book, he was gazing off into the distance, a look of longing in his eyes. The afternoon lighting had been just right to capture his 230

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expression, and every time Rannon had looked at the picture since, it had touched him down deep inside and he’d wondered what it was that had so completely absorbed Shaun. “It’s exactly how you look,” Rannon said. “You had to have been close to get this much detail.” Rannon swallowed hard, remembering how much he’d hated having to stay invisible to Shaun during that month. “I was. Just across the room from you. It was the closest I’d dared to get to you the whole trip, but you were so lost in thought and it just… it tugged at me, so I had to get close enough to draw that look on your face.” “Do you know what I was thinking about?” Rannon shook his head. “I was thinking about a certain beautiful, majestic snow leopard that had followed my trekking group through the mountains, day after day, in spite of the fact snow leopards are rare and usually avoid humans.” Rannon’s breath caught. Shaun continued, his gaze never leaving Rannon’s face. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it and wondering why it seemed so lonely. I knew snow leopards were loners, but this one… something about it touched me, haunted me. Because I could relate to it. Because even surrounded by people, I’ve always felt cut-off and lonely as well, like I was the one standing outside the window looking in. So it was like that snow leopard and I, though we were so different, were kindred spirits.” Emotion clogged Rannon’s chest until he could barely breathe. Without saying a word, he got up from the bed, took the few steps to Shaun in the chair, and, straddling his legs, sank onto Shaun’s lap. Shaun was already reaching for him by the time he got there, 231

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and as their mouths met, Rannon’s hands burrowed into Shaun’s hair, and Shaun’s arms slid around his waist, drawing him closer. The kiss was filled with the ghosts of so many years of loneliness and longing, and a distance that had clearly affected them both. Life had been hard for each of them, struggling with their families, their place in the world, their other-ness. Even though Shaun hadn’t recognized his yet, it was there down inside him, lurking, waiting for the day it would emerge. The memories he’d had of Doyle on the night his mother died had scared him badly enough he’d suppressed them for years, so his impending change had weighed on him even without him realizing it. “I love you,” Shaun said raggedly, as the kiss ended and he rested his head against Rannon’s forehead. “I love you, too, Shaun. So damned much.” His heart ached it was so full. “Do you think we’re ever going to be able to reach a point where the past doesn’t haunt us?” Rannon sighed. He’d asked himself the same question so many times it had become like a mantra, but, unfortunately, he still didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know. But I have to be hopeful, because in spite of all the bad stuff, the loss, the separation, we’re here together now. We found each other again in spite of it all.” “Maybe we found each other again because of it all,” Shaun said. He rubbed his knuckles along Rannon’s cheek. With several days of stubble, Rannon knew he was pretty ragged. But the way Shaun looked at him didn’t make him feel ragged. It made him feel cherished. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand when you begged me to feed from you,” Shaun said softly. “I was so blinded by fear because of 232

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Doyle… ” His voice cracked. “It wasn’t until I saw those Fels tearing into you, saw you broken and bleeding on the ground, and got a taste for what life would be without you, that I finally, truly understood. Twice now I’ve abandoned you. I swear to you, I won’t ever do it again, Rannon.” Rannon’s eyes burned. How had Shaun known that the night he left Rannon in Brill, Rannon had felt hurt and abandoned, and that last night he’d struggled with those same old feelings when Shaun had told him he’d rather die than take blood from him? But then he looked at Shaun, at the protective tenderness in his expression, something that had always been there from the first day he’d met Shaun, and realized that of course he knew. Shaun knew him better than anyone ever had or ever would. “I really love you,” Rannon whispered, and then captured Shaun’s mouth in a kiss. Once again he felt compelled to show Shaun how he felt about him because sometimes, words just weren’t enough. This time, instead of sorrow for the past, the kiss was about the present, and he knew they both wanted the same thing—to purge the old hurts and fill those spaces with new, good memories. In spite of the fact they had, truly, stayed up half the night making love, Rannon was convinced he’d never be able to get enough of Shaun. Maybe it was all those years apart and the need to make up for lost time, he didn’t know. What he did know was that the spark of desire for each other that always seemed to be present just below the surface of all their interactions, once again combusted and swept them up in the blaze. Their mouths began to wander, exploring the familiar but also searching for the as yet untried. Every time they drew together in intimacy, it was like they each made it a quest to find new ways to 233

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make the other feel good. Shaun kissed a path down Rannon’s neck to his chest, where he sucked and toyed with his nipples, until Rannon moaned in pleasure. While his mouth was busy, he cupped Rannon’s balls and tugged them, slowly rolling them in his palm until Rannon’s cock jerked and stiffened and began to leak. Feeling frustrated at not having the same access to Shaun, Rannon pushed Shaun’s T-shirt up and over his head, exposing the sculpted plane of his chest. He played with Shaun’s nipples as well, giving as good as he was getting, tweaking them mercilessly between his fingertips until they were hard, swollen peaks, and this time it was Shaun who moaned. Which tickled Rannon maybe more than it should, but, hell, he knew he was a moaner and vocally uninhibited when it came to sex. He just loved finding ways to make the quieter Shaun vocal and out of control as well. He leaned in until his mouth was next to Shaun’s ear. He licked the curve of it, then whispered, “Get your damn pants off. I want your dick.” Shaun’s entire body went stiff. “Jeez, Rann!” Rannon smiled. Shaun truly did have a thing for Rannon’s voice, for whatever reason, and the dirtier and more direct he talked, the hotter Shaun seemed to find it. Shaun struggled to follow his order, but no amount of squirming around in the chair would let him pull his pants down with Rannon on top of him. Rannon finally took mercy on him and stood, pulling Shaun to his feet as well. Shaun shot him an X-rated look, then unzipped his jeans and wiggled them over his hips. Sweet Jesus. Rannon’s throat went dry as he watched Shaun’s strip tease. Shaun’s erection sprang free, long and rigid, jutting out from his groin, already leaking drops of jizz. His balls hung low 234

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and heavy between his parted thighs. Shit, the man looked like a porn God, and Rannon told him as much. Which, of course, caused Shaun to growl and crush his mouth against Rannon’s in a possessive kiss. But Rannon wanted what he wanted, and he wasn’t going to be deterred from it. Once Shaun had kicked off his jeans, Rannon pushed him back into the chair, then knelt between his legs, spread his warm, hairy thighs, and lowered his mouth to the sleek-skinned meat he craved. He licked and sucked, teased and tormented, until Shaun’s dick was wet and impossibly swollen… and desperately seeking something which Rannon had purposely been withholding. “Shit, please, Rannon!” Shaun begged. His hands curved around the base of Rannon’s skull, trying to draw him closer. Rannon grinned. “Well, since you said it so nicely.” He lowered his mouth to the bulging knob and then slowly, slowly eased his lips down the shaft until Shaun was in three-fourths of the way. Then Rannon hollowed his cheeks, opened his throat, and with a smoldering look up at Shaun, took him to the root. Shaun groaned, his body shaking, his hands tightening on the back of Rannon’s head. Rannon eased off a little, then swallowed him all the way again. It was all the encouragement Shaun needed. He took control and thoroughly, fervently, fucked Rannon’s mouth. But when Shaun was close to coming, Rannon pulled off, leaving him pleading for more. “Don’t stop now! God, please, come back!” Rannon just smiled. He leaned over to his duffle bag, open on the floor next to the chair, and found the bottle of slick. He popped open the cap, squirted a line over Shaun’s cock, and with Shaun moaning and thrusting into his hand, coated his entire length and his balls with it. 235

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Then he rose to his feet, spread his legs and used his already slippery fingers to ready his ass. “Fuck.” The word was little more than a guttural growl, and Shaun’s breathing grew fast and hard as he watched Rannon’s fingers push in and out of himself. His eyes grew dark with hunger, like Mal dark. Rannon felt a shuddering thrill in knowing he’d pushed Shaun to the point of bringing out his beast. He threw aside the bottle of lube and straddled Shaun’s legs, then without further teasing, because in all honesty, he was just too damned turned on to wait any longer, he sank down onto Shaun’s cock. They both groaned as Rannon lifted up and sank down again and again, each time harder, with Shaun’s dick going deeper. Shaun held his hips and every time Rannon dropped onto him, he would thrust up. They found a rhythm that had them both vibrating from the intensity and moaning until their voices grew hoarse. Rannon’s cock bounced between them. Sweat beaded on their bodies. The scent of sex filled the air. And when Shaun buried a hand in Rannon’s hair and pulled him close, it seemed the most natural, erotic thing in the world to tilt his head and give Shaun easier access. He wanted it so badly, was already on the hair’s edge of climax, and knew this would put him over. As Shaun’s teeth sank deep into Rannon’s skin, his hand curled firmly around Rannon’s erection. And when Shaun took the first long pull of blood, Rannon cried out, his body jerked, and he came, hard, arcing long streaks of cum across Shaun’s chest. Shaun continued to pound up into him, and Rannon continued to ride him for all he was worth. Shaun’s sucking at his neck kept his senses heightened, and even though he’d already come, his dick 236

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stayed hard for some reason he didn’t understand except that he was still just that turned on. And then Shaun came, too… thrusting so deep Rannon cried out again and clung to him, feeling Shaun’s climax wracking through his own body. Shocked, he came again as well. They clung together, both of them shaking in the aftermath. Shaun licked over the bite on Rannon’s neck, healing it, and then sank back against the chair, pulling Rannon with him until he lay across Shaun’s sharply rising and falling chest. “Christ,” Shaun said, his voice raspy. He tipped Rannon’s face up to his and his eyes, blue again, flooded with emotion. “You know I’m never letting you go, right?” “I’m yours, Shaun. I’ve always been yours.” “I won’t ever take that, or you, for granted.” “I know.” Their lips met, shockingly tender considering how intense their lovemaking had just been. “So what happens now?” Shaun asked a few minutes later. “Where do we go? What do we do?” No matter how much Rannon knew they’d both like to spend even a day free of it, the reality of their lives would always creep back in. They’d left a mess at the cabin last night, and the Fels wouldn’t give up. “I think we need to deal with first things first.” “Okay, I’m listening.” Rannon smiled. There were certain things that were required whether they were average Joes or being hunted by feral shapeshifters. “A shower and then food. I’m starvin’.” Shaun’s chuckle, so warm and deep, filled him with joy. “I confess, I’m craving pancakes. Which I find completely bizarre 237

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considering I just had blood for breakfast.” “I beg to differ.” Rannon smirked at him. “You just had me for breakfast.” Shaun’s eyes flashed with heat. Now Rannon laughed. “Don’t look at me like that or we won’t get anything accomplished today. Let’s get a move on, Mr. McCarry. We can talk strategy over breakfast. Or maybe it’ll wait until after breakfast if we happen to get distracted.” “Somehow I think life with you is going to be filled with distractions,” Shaun said with a grin. *

*

*

Shaun paid for the food and coffee at the small waffle house a short walk down the road from the motel, and stepped back out through the glass door into the sunshine. Man, after all the rain the past couple of days, he’d never thought he’d be so glad to see the sun again. Spring had returned to the Appalachians and this morning everything was rain-washed fresh and green with a startlingly clear, azure sky above. He hoped maybe it was a sign that things were making a turn for the better, not just with the weather, but for his life. Their life— because now he couldn’t think about life without Rannon in it. The past couple of days had been pretty dark, some of the darkest times he’d ever known. But he couldn’t deny that mixed in with the darkness, he’d also experienced the very best moments of his life so far. Being with Rannon again… A knot of emotion choked his throat. Being with Rannon again was like finding a piece of himself that had been lost for a very long time. The best piece. 238

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And right now, he wanted to be back at the motel with him. He picked up his pace, stepping around puddles leftover from the deluge. Rannon had stayed in the room with Shaun’s laptop, “exploring options” he’d said, about where they should go. In the shower they’d discussed the fact that, for now, Shaun couldn’t go back to his apartment in DC. What they hadn’t said aloud, but Shaun had concluded on his own, was that he probably couldn’t go back ever. At least not safely. Doyle and Rannon had both found out where he lived on the Internet. If they could, anyone could. And, apparently, if all else failed, his talkative landlady would fill in the blanks. Sheesh. Shaun’s biggest concern right now was that his entire present life was played out on the Internet—his career, his travels. Hell, he paid all his bills and did all his banking online even, which any halfway decent hacker could probably access if they gave it the old college try. It was hard to imagine the drastic changes he would probably need to make in his life because of his newly inherited dark side. Damn the Fels and their hunting. Even Rannon didn’t know why the fallout had happened between the Malaks and the Feldaemons, but it seemed pretty clear the Fels held all the cards and had for a long time. He understood now why Doyle had always packed them up and moved them so often, why he’d always been so paranoid, why, as Shaun had gotten older, Doyle had become more withdrawn and had avoided him—because Doyle had still needed to feed and hadn’t wanted Shaun to see him after Shaun’s reaction when he was a little kid. For the first time in his life, Shaun actually felt sympathy for his father and the kind of life he’d been forced to endure. 239

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He still had so many questions. He wondered if the journal Gamble had talked about might ever turn up. Rannon burned with the need to see what was in it. Still… God, he didn’t want to become like Doyle. He didn’t want to live that way. But he wasn’t sure how to do anything differently. Even Rannon had been living on the run since he was eighteen because he wouldn’t hunt with his family, and now because he’d sided with the Mals. Shaun didn’t know how he’d manage a writing career from the shadows, or if he even could. And he couldn’t go home. So what was he going to do? But then a vision of Rannon filled his head… stubborn, brave, sexy, caring to a fault, and he knew… none of the rest of it mattered. His career was just a job. And DC wasn’t home to Shaun. No physical place ever had been. Home was, and always had been, Rannon. He smiled, knowing in just a minute or so he’d see him again. The Sunny Acres Inn stood like a white beacon against the backdrop of the never-ending green that was the Appalachian mountains. The main parking lot was virtually empty, with only one vehicle parked right in front—probably belonged to the woman working the desk this morning. Shaun had only paid for one night last night, but had stopped by on his way out to get food this morning and given her some cash for a second night. There was no reason to think he and Rannon would be particularly easy to find out here in the middle of nowhere, so they’d decided they’d stay put for another day. The rear parking lot of the motel was much more run-down than the front—something Shaun hadn’t noticed last night in the 240

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rainy darkness. But that was fine, too. It offered cover for Rannon’s blue Ford F150 truck, which still sat safely tucked next to the Dumpster. Another car was parked in the back lot this morning, a dozen or so spaces down from the truck. Shaun eyed it, not remembering whether it had been there when he’d left to get food, but it seemed innocuous enough—a silver Buick Regal. Probably another motel guest’s car. Juggling the cardboard box that held the coffee and food, Shaun slid the cardkey through the slot, then pushed open the heavy door with his foot. He slipped in before the self-closing mechanism swung the door shut, and set the box on top of the TV. “Hey, I’m back.” His gaze moved across the small room, seeking Rannon. But when he found him… Shaun’s heart stopped. Rannon sat chained hand and foot to one of the upright chairs at the table across the room “My God, Rannon! What happ—” “No, Shaun! No!” Rannon’s words and the terror in his voice stopped Shaun cold. He stared at his lover, questioning, but then understood when he heard a metallic click of a gun cocking, and felt the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head. Ambushed. They’d been ambushed. His gaze stayed focused on Rannon, who was staring at him with fear and love and a dozen other emotions churning in his eyes. Eyes that weren’t their normal sparkling pale green, but instead looked dull. “You okay?” Shaun asked, worried for him. “They knocked me out,” Rannon said. “Then chained me with 241

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iron. I can’t shift in iron, Shaun.” They. So there was someone else besides the bizarrely silent gunman behind Shaun. “How’d they find us?” Shaun said. “Trackin’ device on the truck. Put it on last night.” “I’m going to get you out of here, Rannon,” he said quietly, not caring they had an audience. Harsh laughter from the direction of the bathroom made his skin crawl. “Well, ain’t that touchin’? Who knew a dirty leech would get all riled up and concerned and want to protect a Fel. Yer daddy’s gonna love this story when he hears it, James.” Shaun recognized the voice. Gamble. But he still didn’t know who stood behind him, and with the gun digging into the base of his skull, he couldn’t move to find out. Gamble strolled over to stand in front of Shaun, who was struggling to keep his fury tamped down and stay in control. Gamble looked the worse for his meet-up with the bear spray last night. His eyes were red and runny, and he looked like breathing still wasn’t coming easy to him. “What do you mean his daddy?” Shaun demanded to know. “Boy’s got a price on his head and I’m a businessman, not to mention Darrell James is an ol’ friend. He’s on his way up from Texas right now to get his boy.” “You are not turning him over to his bastard of a father!” Shaun growled. The urge to protect, to kill filled him, consumed him, as the demon inside him surged to life. “I will destroy you if let his father get anywhere near him.” “You do realize you got a gun to yer head, don’t ya, Mr. McCarry? And that gun can turn real quick-like to point at Mr. James just as fast.” He shook his head in obvious disgust. “I don’t 242

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know what it is with you two, but there’s something unnatural goin’ on. No Fel turns against his own kind, kills his own cousin, like Mr. James over there. He don’t protect no Mals either. So James is a conundrum all on his own. But then there’s you. Your mama and daddy killed by Fels, and yet yer so anxious to protect one.” “I know you killed my father. But what do you know about my mom?” “I think it’s time you introduced yerself to the boy, Matthew,” Gamble said, speaking to whoever stood behind Shaun. “Or would that be re-introduce yerself?” A man stepped around Shaun into the open, still holding the weapon, which Shaun could now see was a semi-automatic handgun. “Hello, Shaun. Remember me?” Shaun stared at the tall red-headed man who was around his age, impeccably dressed in a suit and tie, with cold gray eyes. “Am I supposed to know you?” He smiled, but it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. “We went to school together.” Shaun reached back in time and came up with nothing. “Quit playing games. Do I know you or not? Who are you and what do you want with Rannon and me.” “Oh, I have no interest in the renegade Fel. Mr. Gamble’s doing business with someone else about him. I’m only interested in you. I paid Mr. Gamble to acquire you for me. You see, I came here to take care of some unfinished business.” “You paid Mr. Gamble to acquire me? What the hell? You sound like you’re talking about a collectible painting.” The man raised an eyebrow. “There’s little difference. Mr. 243

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Gamble is in the business of acquiring merchandise for those who are willing to pay for it. You are the merchandise. As was your father.” Shaun’s eyes narrowed. The Mal in him burned up inside and screamed to get out. “I’m nobody’s fucking merchandise!” “Let me tell you a story,” the man said. “About a boy who loved his father—admired him, wanted to be just like him. Then one night his father went out to do his job and never came home. He was killed by a bastard who never deserved to live in the first place. So the boy had to live without his father for the rest of his days, while another boy, the killer’s son, got to keep his daddy.” Shaun stared at him, still with no idea what the hell he was talking about. “I remember you, Shaun McCarry. In kindergarten your mom would bring you to school, drop you off with kisses and your Star Wars lunch pail. I’d watch from the playground. She was always so happy. So were you.” “Kindergarten?” And then Shaun suddenly remembered a kid in kindergarten with red hair. “Matty Jablonski?” “It’s Matthew,” the man said in his cold voice. “Whatever. What do you want?” “You and your family were so happy and you didn’t deserve it. Your father was a leech. And your mother was a weak human who foolishly fell for a leech and then chose to give birth to another sucking piece of garbage. My father made a business of cleaning up leech problems in our town. So he went to your house to clean.” “Your father?” And then, in a sickening rush, pieces began to fall into place. “Your father was a Fel. The Fel who broke into our house and killed my mom, who tried to kill me and my dad!” 244

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“But your leech father killed him first.” “You lost your dad,” Shaun murmured, understanding now what drove the man. “This is about revenge.” “I lost my father, and you didn’t. I’ve waited a long time for this. I knew you wouldn’t go through the Change until you reached your thirtieth birthday, and I wanted to be sure that your father knew you were the next to be hunted before he died.” “You killed Doyle, not Gamble, didn’t you?” Shaun said. “You’re the one Doyle shot at.” Matty grimaced. “An unfortunate incident. He escaped the perimeter I had set up and found a weapon. It was merely a flesh wound. The other shot went wide. I cleaned up the casings.” “So let me get this straight, you paid this filthy low-life”—he gestured to Gamble—“to track down and capture my father for you. And then you did what?” “And then I set him lose in my compound and I hunted him. I don’t care much for the fur and crudity of my animal form. I prefer to live as a human. But there are times when I find a certain satisfaction in the hunt.” “Good God.” Shaun thought he might be sick. “And me?” “The same thing, of course. I’ll take you to my compound, set you lose with a brief head start, and I’ll hunt you. And before you get any ideas, security has been strengthened and there will be no further surprise escapes like your father tried.” The black fog of Mal fury blurred his vision and suddenly, Shaun could think of no reason at all to keep it under control. He lunged, intending to rip into the man’s throat and tear him to shreds. “Uh-uh-uh,” Matty said, digging the gun into the side of Shaun’s head. “Even if you’re not afraid of dying yourself, how 245

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would you feel about that one?” He nodded toward Rannon. “You seem awfully protective of him.” Shaun looked over and discovered Gamble’s arm was wrapped around Rannon’s throat in a chokehold. Rannon, helplessly trapped by the iron chains, couldn’t defend himself and his face was already turning red, his eyes were rolling back, and strangling noises burbled from his throat. That brought Shaun to a stop, but he growled and shook with fury. “Gamble’s bluffing. He won’t want to lose his money by killing Rannon,” Shaun said. “If Mr. Gamble should have to destroy that particular piece of merchandise for me, he knows he’ll be well compensated.” Gamble grinned and nodded. “You’ve always been quite fair, Matthew.” Shaun growled again, but the sight of Rannon’s contorted face, and the pain he was in, broke through Shaun’s fury as nothing else could. “Rann,” he whispered. His shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay, I’ll do what you want. Let him go. Let him go!” “You see. Cooperation works so much better. So much more civilized.” He waved a hand and Gamble released Rannon. Rannon’s head slipped forward onto his chest and a wave of wracking coughs shook his body. “Civilized,” Shaun spat. “ Is that what you call this?” Matty ignored him. “I’m taking my merchandise now,” he told Gamble. “I assume you’re planning to wait here for the owner to come pick up that one?” “He’s not his owner,” Shaun snapped. “Nobody owns him.” “Yep, that’s the plan,” Gamble said. “I’ll have Darrell gimme a ride back to the compound on his way through.” “Very well then. Time to go, Shaun. Turn around.” 246

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“What?” “Turn around.” When he didn’t move right away, Matty lifted a hand to Gamble. “Okay,” Shaun cried. “Just don’t hurt him anymore.” He turned. “Hands behind your back.” When Shaun did as he said, he felt the cold steel of handcuffs slide around his wrists and snap shut. “These have been specially made for your kind with extra reinforcement, so even if you try to use your filthy demon to break free, it won’t work.” Shaun’s “filthy demon” wanted nothing more than to rip the man’s spine out, but he dragged in several deep breaths to keep it under control. He had to think of Rannon. “Now move. Out the door. And remember that I will have a gun pointed at you at all times.” Shaun moved forward, but his gaze locked with Rannon’s. Rann’s face was tight with pain and fear, but also determination, and Shaun could see the silent plea in his eyes—be safe, don’t die, I need you. “Shaun… ” he started. “Shut up!” Gamble clobbered Rannon upside the head with his meaty fist. Rannon’s head snapped back at the blow, and he moaned. Shaun started to lunge for Gamble, but felt the gun press against his ribs. “Move!” Matty ordered. “Rannon, I’ll find you,” Shaun said. Rannon looked up at him, but he seemed to be moving too slowly, and Shaun’s chest filled with fear for him. “Remember what I told you this morning? I meant it. I’ll find you!” Rannon’s pain-clouded face was the last thing he saw before 247

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Matty shoved him out the door. *

*

*

Rannon watched Shaun go, sick inside. Please be okay. Please don’t die. His head hurt like hell, the iron around him weighed heavily and suppressed the natural shimmer of his Fel that he’d grown so used to having as a part of him, and his brain seemed to have a fog over it. He took deep breaths, which helped some, and clarity began to return. But it didn’t change the fact he felt helpless, weak, and completely trapped. “When’s my old man supposed to be here?” he asked Gamble. The thought of facing the bastard again after all these years turned him cold inside. “He’ll be here soon enough.” A rattling sounded at the door. Gamble grinned. “See, speak and ye shall receive, boy.” He crossed the room and opened the door. The moment he did, hell broke loose. “Get down on the floor!” someone shouted. “Get down! Get down!” A swarm of bodies, at least it seemed like a swarm, crossed the threshold, almost trampling Gamble. What the hell? But then Rannon noticed the uniforms. Cops. And leading the way—Sheriff Dixon. Rannon wondered what she was doing here. This was way out of her jurisdiction. They weren’t even in the same state anymore. 248

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And yet, she was clearly the leader of the small group of law officers. “Help me get out of here,” Rannon said. “Please! He’s leavin’ with Shaun. I can catch him.” Sheriff Dixon and a dark-haired male cop approached. “Fel,” the man said. “Chained in iron… definitely Fel.” How the hell did these people know about Fels? They were regular civilian cops. Or were they? “What’s your name and what are you doin’ here?” Sheriff Dixon asked. “It’s not like the Fels to chain one of their own.” “My name’s Rannon James. That man there”—he pointed to Gamble, who lay on the floor in handcuffs now—“Enoch Gamble, and the man he’s working for ambushed Shaun and me and held us at gunpoint. Please, let me go. The other one just took Shaun. They might even still be close. I can catch them if you’ll just free me!” “You can’t trust a Fel,” the male cop said. But Sheriff Dixon looked at Rannon closely. “You said Shaun. Do you mean Shaun McCarry?” “Yes! Please. He’s in danger. Gamble sold him to this other man who’s got him.” “A Fel, you mean? I’m very familiar with otherworldly creatures, Mr. James.” “Yes, a Fel. He said he was takin’ Shaun to his compound. I don’t know where it is, but I suspect it’s near Dreamspell. His name’s Matthew Jablonski and he’s the one who killed Doyle McCarry. Please, let me go. I can catch him. You’re right, I’m a Fel, too, but I’m not one of them. I’m on Shaun’s side. You have to believe me! Shaun’s… he’s important to me. I can’t lose him. Please.” Sheriff Dixon studied him. “Unchain him,” she told the man. 249

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“What!” the man said. “You’re letting a Fel go free? He might be the thing in the dark that kills you in your sleep tonight, Sheriff!” “No, I don’t believe so, Neill. I’ve been doing this for a lot of years. And sometimes, you come across unexpected things that require you to have a little faith. Cut him loose. Nothing better to find a Fel than one of their own.” The moment the chains were off, Rannon shifted, ignoring the shocked stares of the cops, and tore out the door, all his senses focused on one thing—finding the man he loved. The trail led to a silver car in the parking lot, but then veered off into the woods. Probably the cops had shown up as they were about to get in the car and Matthew had been forced to make a spur of the moment plan change. Which filled Rannon with a smug sense of satisfaction. Because Matthew had made it clear he looked down on the Fel form and chose to stay human as much as possible. And since he was holding a gun on Shaun, he’d still be human right now. Rannon, on the other hand, would have better everything than Matthew out in the forest—he could pick up scents better, see better, hear better, and was way faster. He ran through the woods, following Shaun’s scent clouded with Matthew’s stench. Rannon hoped Matthew truly wanted to stick to his plan of taking Shaun to his compound before he hurt him. But knowing the cops were on his trail, and maybe even knowing Rannon was, too, at this point, might make him suddenly fly off the handle and cut his losses. Rannon heard them before he saw them. They were arguing, taunting. No, not just an argument… they were fighting. Physically 250

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fighting. Sweet Jesus! He sprinted, his paws flying over the ground, his powerful hindquarters propelling him over logs and rocks and anything in his way. When he got close, he slowed, using caution on his approach. He halted behind a tree on a ridge just a few feet away from them, assessing the situation. They were circling each other, breathing hard, standing about ten feet apart. Matthew was bleeding—Rannon picked up the smell from here, and then spied the dark stain on the man’s arm and noticed his suit jacket had been torn. Shaun had completely Mal’d out, with obsidian irises, and his fangs descended. He was still handcuffed with his arms behind his back, but he radiated so much fury, snarling and stalking the other man, that the handcuffs seemed to be only a minimal impediment to him. In full, pissed-off, Mal glory, Shaun was clearly the aggressor in this scenario. Rannon wondered how the power exchange had happened, but suspected once they were away from the motel and Matthew no longer had Rannon there to use as leverage, Shaun had let the Mal in him have full rein. He’d come close to doing it in the motel room, so it would have taken very little to push him. Plus… Rannon didn’t know what it was, but Shaun, from the beginning, since he’d gone through the Change, had seemed different from other Mals. He seemed to have more control, like the way he’d been able to keep from giving in to the bloodlust and feeding from Rannon, when any other Mal would never have been able to last that long and would have torn into him that first night in the bathroom. Shaun also seemed to have more tightly leashed power than other Mals. And the healing thing was something else 251

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altogether new. As he watched Shaun and Matthew circle, he had no doubt who’d win this fight as long as Matthew didn’t shift. If he shifted, then it would be more evenly matched, but he didn’t show any signs of it. He stood with his arms out, facing Shaun, circling with him. Shit. But the gun. That was a game changer, and probably why Matthew hadn’t shifted. Except… Rannon didn’t see it. Matthew wasn’t holding it. What had happened to it? With his heightened vision, he scanned the wet, upturned forest floor for it, and finally spied it under a tree a good fifteen feet away from Matthew. He’d obviously lost it, or dropped it at some point during his and Shaun’s confrontation. Rannon breathed a quick sigh of relief. The gun was, for the most part, out of the picture. “Come and get me, leech,” Matthew taunted, looking far too haughty for a Fel in human form facing off against a furious Mal. With a suddenness that stole Rannon’s breath, Shaun charged Matthew. Rannon felt like he was watching it in slow-motion, his preternatural vision catching things much more accurately and quickly than the human eye would. Shaun growled, and the raw, uninhibited sound sent a chill along Rannon’s back. But the moment Shaun went into motion, Matthew, with scary speed, bent over and, as Rannon watched in horror, pulled another gun out of a holster on his calf under his pant leg. Oh shit! Matthew took aim… From his vantage point, Rannon saw clearly that there was no way Shaun could stop in time… and no way Matthew would miss. 252

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No! Adrenaline pumping through his veins, and with a furious growl, Rannon sprang across the distance to get in front of Shaun. A shot fired. Pain slammed through Rannon, tearing a high-pitched scream of agony from him. He was falling… and hit the ground hard, with a bone jarring thud. The world around him dissolved to black.

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CHAPTER 15 Savage rage driving him, Shaun charged Matty. But as he did, he saw Matty reach down, do something at his leg, and come back up… holding another gun. Oh fuck! But it was too late to back pedal. He was already in motion, and in the split second that followed, Shaun saw his fate dance before his eyes. The gunshot rang in his ears, half deafening him because it was so close. He smelled the acrid stench of the powder, and knew any millisecond he’d feel the burn of the slug hitting him. But a white/gray blur suddenly filled his vision. And a spinetingling, pain-filled animal yowl vibrated in the air, echoing off the trees. 254

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Shaun stumbled and fell, unable to reach out and stop himself because of his damned wrists being cuffed behind his back. The animal, the blur he’d seen, dropped to the ground with a heavy, sickening thud a few yards from Shaun. The moment it hit, Shaun recognized it and a cold blast of fear hit him in the chest “Nooooo!” he shouted. He tried to get to his feet, but slid again on the muddy ground, and ended up half-crawling on his knees to the animal’s body. Another shot fired, but it barely registered with Shaun. All he knew, all he saw, was Rannon, in the form of a snow leopard, his sleek, powerful body still and silent on the cold forest floor. “Rannon! Oh God, oh God.” Shaun sniffed him, looking for a wound. He smelled blood, but not much and couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, which confused him. He knew Rannon had taken the bullet meant for him, so there had to be a wound. If he could find it, maybe there was a chance he could heal him. “Please… please… ” “What can I do to help?” a calm female voice said from next to Shaun. Blinking, he looked up. “Sheriff? What are you… what are you doing here?” She looked the same as she had at the cabin that evening—in full uniform, tall, angular, confident, no-nonsense. It was only then he remembered Matty Jablonski. A new fear leapt through him that he’d forgotten about the man with the gun. But just beyond the sheriff, he saw Matty’s body sprawled on the ground. His gaze slid back to the sheriff in confusion. And then he remembered the second gunshot. “You?” he asked her. “Mmm,” she said in response. “He’s not dead. He’ll live. But 255

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he’ll prob’ly wish he hadn’t.” “Get these cuffs off me, please!” She knelt behind him and after a few gentle motions and a click, the steel slid off and his arms were free. Finally able to touch him, he stroked his hands through Rannon’s soft fur, searching for the bullet wound. Rannon was so still. Shaun feared it was too late and he was dead. No. Not dead. Please! “Come on, Rann. Need you, baby.” The sheriff crouched next to him and rested a hand on Rannon’s chest. “Are we sure the bullet went in him?” “You heard the noise he made,” Shaun said, his own voice trembling. “It hit him.” A thought at the edge of his mind wondered why the sheriff was taking all this in stride. Why she didn’t seem to think it was the least bit odd to find Shaun in the woods with a rare snow leopard that shouldn’t be seen outside of Asia, that had just leapt in front of a bullet meant for him. Nor did she seem to flinch at Shaun’s appearance—his fangs were still out, and no doubt his eyes were dark. As he thought it, he realized he didn’t need the Mal for protection anymore. Matty was no longer a threat. He reigned in the demon and shoved it back down into the deep hidden spot inside where it lay at rest. He continued to search Rannon’s body and still couldn’t find the wound. And no blood. What was going on? Damn it! If it hadn’t hit him, why was Rannon so still and didn’t seem to be breathing? Rannon suddenly shuddered and heaved in a deep breath that shook his sides. 256

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The sheriff rested a hand on Shaun’s shoulder. “Looks like he’s going to come around. That’s good news.” Shaun stroked Rannon’s head. “Come on, Rann. You can do it… breathe,” he encouraged, feeling the first stirrings of hope. Another heave. And finally, finally Rannon’s sides began to rise and fall in regular rhythm. Relief swept through Shaun, hard but oh-so-sweet. “That’s it. Stay with me,” he said. He continued to stroke Rannon’s head, and he also rubbed his side, struck by how truly thick and silky the spotted gray fur was. “Stay with me, sweetheart.” The leopard’s eyes flickered open… and they were Rannon’s eyes. Pale green. Hazy. But aware. His body shuddered again, and then Rannon’s fur began to shimmer. With a feline whine that morphed into a human moan, Rannon returned to his human shape and rolled onto his back with a tired-sounding sigh. The ground was early-spring cold, and still wet from the rain. Shaun stripped off the zip-up hoodie he was wearing over his Tshirt, gathered Rannon in his arms, and wrapped it around him. Out of the corner of his eye, Shaun noticed the sheriff had retreated, giving them some space, and was using the handcuffs she’d taken off him to cuff Matty. Shawn stroked Rannon’s hair, so very, very grateful to see Rannon looking up him. “Oh, Rann… ” His voice was so choked with emotion he could barely speak. Rannon’s arm came up to curl around Shaun’s neck and pulled him down until their lips touched, briefly, gently. “You promised me you wouldn’t scare me like this again,” Shaun whispered, his heart still pounding. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” Rannon said softly, apologizing 257

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with his eyes. “But I also told you I’d always have your back, Shaun. And I will.” “I know,” Shaun admitted. “And I’m so grateful I don’t even know how to thank you. You saved my life, Rann. But once again you almost lost yours because of it. I think your heroics are going to put me in an early grave just from all the worry.” Rannon’s fingers brushed Shaun’s cheek and a faint smile curved his lips. “You’ve protected me as long as I’ve known you. It’s okay, you know, to let me protect you, too. That’s how it works, babe. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine. You can’t do all the givin’ and never take. ” Tears blurred Shaun’s vision. He reached up to swipe them away. “I hate it when you do that wise thing. Especially because I know you’re usually right.” Rannon gave him another tremulous smile, but it quickly turned to a wince as he attempted to sit up. Shaun wrapped an arm around him for support and helped him. “You doing okay?” “A little sore all over, but, yeah.” “What happened, Rann? I heard the gunshot. I heard you cry out in pain, so I know it hit you. You fell and you weren’t moving and I don’t even know if you were breathing. But now here you are and I can’t smell any blood.” Rannon’s forehead furrowed. “I… I don’t know. It did hit me. I felt it. The pain was so bad I blacked out. And then I don’t remember anything until I opened my eyes and saw you lookin’ down at me with terror on your face.” “Do you know where it hit you on your body?” “I don’t know. It was just a blindin’ pain, but I’m not sure where it started.” 258

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“May I check?” Rannon gave him a look—half exasperation, half humor. “And you have to ask permission why? Like I’m goin’ to tell the love of my life that, no, you can’t ever look at my naked body.” He rolled his eyes and gave Shaun another one of those tired but sexy half smiles. That drew a smile from Shaun as well. “Always a smart ass.” “Better than bein’ a stupid ass.” Still smiling, Shaun said, “Let me see.” He opened the front of the hoodie and saw nothing unusual on Rannon’s chest, his groin, his legs. He slid around behind Rannon and carefully pulled the jacket down to see his back… “Jesus.” The word came out in a shocked huff of breath. Rannon stiffened. “What?” “It’s… I just… Jesus.” “Will you stop saying that?” Rannon tried to turn now and look over his shoulder. “What is it? You’re scarin’ the hell out of me.” His tone, which truly did sound scared, jarred Shaun out of the shocked trance he’d been in. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. It’s okay. It’s just… ” How did he even explain what he was seeing. “It’s just what? Hellfire, Shaun, what are you seein’ back there?” “I see where the bullet hit you. Just above your right kidney.” He traced the tip of his finger near the spot. “But your body is… well… it’s pushing it out.” “Pushin’ it? What do you mean?” He began to tremble, which brought Shaun’s attention back to the whole man, who was truly frightened. Shaun stroked Rannon’s neck and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Rann, it’s okay. It’s not bad… it’s 259

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miraculous, actually. There’s virtually no blood. There’s an entry wound, but now the slug is just coming back out of it.” As he spoke, the misshapen piece of lead breached the surface and fell out. Shaun caught it before it hit the ground and held out his hand where Rannon could see it. “What the hell?” Rannon breathed. “And now… ” Shaun let out a soft huff of surprised laughter. “The wound’s complete closed over.” He brushed his fingers over where it had been and the skin was smooth. As smooth as the wounds Shaun had licked over and healed last night.” Rannon looked at him, eyes wide. “What does this mean?” “I think it means that this time… your body healed itself.” *

*

*

Rannon stood, shirtless, with his back to the bathroom mirror, his head turned so he could look over his shoulder and see the reflection. “You’ve been standing there for ten minutes, Rannon. Keeping watch over it isn’t going to change anything. It’s healed. There’s nothing to see.” Shaun entered the bathroom and stopped in front of Rannon. He wrapped his arms around Rannon’s waist and his fingers rubbed slow circles on Rannon’s lower back. Rannon sighed and turned away from the mirror to look at the man he loved. “I know. I guess I’m in denial since you saw it happen and I didn’t.” Shaun’s eyebrows shot up. “You don’t trust me?” “Of course I do.” He smiled. “Maybe I just feel—and stupidly so, I admit—a little bit left out because you saw this miraculous 260

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thing and I didn’t.” Shaun’s expression sobered and his eyes turned that deep blue they did when he grew emotional. He turned Rannon in his arms so that Rannon faced the mirror now and Shaun stood behind him. Shaun splayed his hands on Rannon’s abdomen, his long tan fingers looking strikingly erotic against Rannon’s paler skin, and stroked them slowly up to his chest and back down. He nestled his chin into the hollow between Rannon’s shoulder and neck, and pulled Rannon snugly back against him. “This is the miracle I see,” Shaun said softly. “You alive and here with me. I’m not so concerned about how it happened, just that it did.” Rannon smiled. “How can I argue with that?” “Hopefully you can’t.” “Aren’t you just the least bit curious, though?” “Rann!” Shaun rolled his eyes and laughed. “I know, I know. But I just keep wonderin’ what would have caused this to happen, and the only thing different about me is that you healed me yesterday.” “Maybe it’s some kind of latent ability you’ve always had.” “Oh, please. Come on, Shaun. You know what my old man used to do to me. I had more bruises and broken bones before I was eighteen than most people will ever have in their lives.” Sadness flickered over Shaun’s face at that, and Rannon realized it did every time he mentioned his father’s abuse. It was as if Shaun still worried that he hadn’t done enough, that he hadn’t been there to save Rannon from it. The fact he’d even wanted to try only made Rannon love him more. “Hey.” He squeezed Shaun’s hand and held his gaze in the 261

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mirror. “That part of my life is over. It’s all good now.” Shaun swallowed hard, but nodded. “And you know I’m right about the healin’ thing. It’s got something to do with you healin’ me yesterday. Maybe whatever is in your saliva that works its magic, there’s still a trace of it in me.” “Or maybe it’s just your super power,” Shaun said softly, a smile curving his sensuous lips. The look on his face squeezed Rannon’s heart. He turned in Shaun’s arms, pressed against him, and lifted his mouth for the kiss that Shaun was already halfway there to give him. Their lips touched, and then their tongues as they opened to each other. A knock on the door brought them apart, but not in a hurry. Shaun pressed one last caress against his mouth, smiled at him, then said, “That’ll be the sheriff.” “Let’s go see her.” Rannon picked up the long-sleeve tee that he hadn’t gotten around to putting on after his shower, and pulled it over his head. He followed Shaun out of the bathroom, his heart tripping when Shaun reached back to take his hand and give it a squeeze. After the woods, there’d been very few questions from the sheriff. She’d taken down their statements about Gamble and Matthew’s ambush in their room, about holding them at gunpoint. She’d listened as they related the details they’d learned about Gamble’s business transactions, and Matthew’s admission that he’d killed Doyle and had planned to “hunt” Shaun as well. But she hadn’t questioned why a Mal and a Fel, who by all rights should be enemies, were not only best friends, but lovers. After their statements, she’d allowed them to pack their things and leave, because life at the Sunny Acres Inn had turned not so 262

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sunny and neither of them felt safe there any longer. She’d recommended a “nice, quiet, off-the-beaten-track” inn back over the Virginia border run by “good folk.” Which is where they were now. Much like he’d felt with Beulah Grommet, Rannon felt comfortable trusting the sheriff. She obviously knew about the “otherworldy” creatures, as she called them, and she’d shown them today that she was willing to take their unusual relationship on faith, no questions asked. That said a lot about her. Shaun opened the door and invited her in. “Gentleman.” She nodded at them. “I won’t take up too much of your time. Just wanted to give you an update. I thought you’d like to know that Mr. Gamble and Mr. Jablonski have both been placed under arrest. Mr. Jablonski is in the hospital under guard in West Virginia and is in stable condition. Thanks to your statements, the prosecutors should have a solid case against them on a number of charges.” “What about my father?” Rannon asked. “He apparently paid or was going to pay Gamble to turn me over to him.” Shaun reached out and wrapped his fingers through Rannon’s again, and Rannon appreciated the gesture of comfort. “We’ve put out notices to law enforcement agencies in several states. We haven’t found him yet, but we’ll keep looking for him, Mr. James.” Rannon sighed. Not exactly what he’d hoped to hear. He wanted to know his old man was locked up somewhere so he didn’t have to worry about whether he was going to come after him or Shaun. But at least now someone was actively looking for him. “I’d also like to thank you,” Sheriff Dixon said, “whichever one of you it was that called in the anonymous tip last night. I 263

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figure it had to have been one of you. Thanks to your help, we were able to pick up Alton Granger and Ronald Harvey. In fact the younger one, Granger, was quite talkative.” “What anonymous tip?” Rannon said. The sheriff lifted an eyebrow and looked between him and Shaun. “That would be me,” Shaun said, looking at Rannon apologetically. “I called it in.” “When? And what did you call in?” “At the cabin, you were in bad shape,” Shaun said softly, lines creasing his forehead and around his eyes. “When I put you in the truck you fell asleep almost immediately, so you didn’t see. But in spite of the fact we needed to get out of there in a hurry, I couldn’t just drive away and leave those guys there, Rann. Gamble had already gotten away, and I was afraid that if we left them, they’d eventually wake up or Gamble would come back for them. So I tied them together on the porch, then used one of their cell phones to call it in to the sheriff’s office.” “Shaun, you were already so run-down and weak.” Rannon shook his head, remembering how badly Shaun had been suffering from his personal battle with his bloodlust. Yet once again he’d gone above and beyond. “I know, but I couldn’t take a chance on letting them get away and risking your life again. I wasn’t keeping it a secret. I just hadn’t thought about it to tell you. We’ve been a little busy with other things since then.” “Well, as I said, we appreciated the tip,” the sheriff said. “We’d suspected for some time that someone was working out of this area trafficking Mals, but hadn’t been able to identify any of the major players. I’ve got to say, you’re the first Fel I’ve come across who’s 264

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been bought and sold by other Fels, Mr. James.” Rannon sighed. “Yeah, well, that’s me… the oddball. Kind of the story of my life.” The sheriff narrowed her gaze and studied him again, much as she had in the motel room when she’d found him chained up. “I’m curious. Why a snow leopard?” Rannon looked at Shaun, whose gaze grew warm. “Because it has significance in my life, for someone special in my life.” He’d taken that form today for Shaun. It had just seemed right. “Mmmm.” “Sheriff, why do you know so much about the Fels and Mals? And why were you in West Virginia. Isn’t that a little out of your jurisdiction?” Shaun said. The same questions had burned in Rannon since he’d first seen the sheriff enter the motel room. She nodded, not seeming surprised or ruffled by the cross interrogation. “In addition to my sheriff duties around here, I also work on a special project where jurisdiction is a bit more… flexible.” “And what kind of special project would that be?” Shaun pushed. “I believe in justice, Mr. McCarry. I believe that those who commit crimes should be punished in a fair and unbiased legal system, not by vigilante law. Those men we picked up yesterday and today will be tried in a regular court of law in the Commonwealth of Virginia based on the same charges and laws as anyone else.” Meaning the same laws as humans. “But what about the special circumstances that I would think would come to light in cases like these?” Rannon asked. 265

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“Let’s just say part of my job is to make sure those special circumstances don’t enter the picture. A lot of folk in this world would be panicked if they knew certain things about some of their neighbors. And then we’d see a whole new level of discrimination and vigilantism.” She shook her head. “That wouldn’t be a good environment for anyone to live in.” Rannon shot Shaun a look, and when he gave a subtle nod, Rannon knew they were sharing the same thought. Obviously part of what the sheriff’s group did was cover up anything the regular folk wouldn’t understand and that might cause widespread panic. “Why didn’t you talk to me openly about my father’s death the other evening?” Shaun said. “You had to have known what he was, after the coroner’s report. Had to have known what I was becoming.” “It’s a sensitive topic for those in your position, Mr. McCarry, and in my experience, one that most aren’t comfortable talking about with strangers. Naturally, I suspected why you were feeling ill, but you didn’t look much in the mood to discuss it. That’s why I gave you Doc Eastwick’s information.” “I don’t understand. How would a human doctor have been able to help?” “Let’s just say that Doc Eastwick has experience working with people who have… enhanced physiologies.” She gave them both a pointed look. “If you ever get into a spot where you need help, he’s trustworthy and someone you can go to.” Rannon listened with fascination. Wow. A doctor who specialized in otherworldly species. Who knew. “Well, then. I’d best be moving on. I’ve got some reports to finish writing up this evening.” She reached into the shirt pocket of her uniform, pulled out a card, and handed it to Rannon. “There’s 266

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my number again. If either of you have any questions or if anything else comes up, you let me know.” “I do have one more question, or a request I guess it is,” Shaun said. When she nodded for him to continue, he said, “You mentioned Matthew Jablonski’s compound. I was wondering if you’ve been there.” “I have some folks sweeping it now.” “There’s a journal that Gamble mentioned. It actually belonged to my father, he wrote it for me, but the Fels stole it. I was wondering… ” “If we come across it, I’ll make sure it gets back in your hands,” the sheriff said. “Thank you. That means a lot.” “Thanks for all your help today,” Rannon said. “We appreciate it, and your discretion, Sheriff,” Shaun added. She nodded, still looking steady and calm. But she gave them a rare smile. “We look out for our own here, gentleman.” Then to Shaun she added, sobering, “I am sorry about your father. I didn’t know him personally, but I understand he was a good man, worked real hard to live his life peaceably up here. I know how difficult that can be. He didn’t deserve what happened to him.” “Thank you,” Shaun murmured. Sadness rippled off him, and Rannon moved closer to him, rubbed his hand against the skin of his lower back under his shirt, offering support. Sheriff Dixon nodded. “You two have a good evenin’.” She turned to the door. With her hand on the knob, she looked back over her shoulder. “Take care of yourselves, and each other. It’s nice to see you’ve forged a bond in spite of your differences. Gives 267

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us all hope.” She nodded again. “’Night now.” When she’d gone and the door was shut behind her, Rannon said, “She’s a Mal. Don’t you think?” Shaun nodded. “Totally.” “I really admire her for trying to see that justice is served in spite of having to cover up all the evidence our kinds even exist.” “Yeah, me, too. Too bad there aren’t more like her.” Shaun turned and pulled him against him, brushing a kiss against his hair. “We could use more friends like her on our side.” “Who knows… maybe things are getting’ better. I mean, a Mal sheriff who doesn’t discriminate, a doctor who takes care of supernatural folk. Is it just me or does it seem like we keep findin’ surprises in these mountains?” “No, it’s not just you.” Without letting Rannon go, Shaun leaned back enough he could look into Rannon’s eyes. “I’ve been thinking… how would you feel about getting a place here, in this area? We could find or even build a cabin of our own, live off the grid. We know the people in Dreamspell would watch our backs, and we’d have the sheriff on our side.” Rannon’s throat tightened as the full measure of what Shaun was saying sank in. “You’re talkin’ about settling down in one spot? Tryin’ to live a real life instead of always bein’ on the run?” “Yes. As everyone keeps telling us, they take care of their own here. I’m really starting to believe it. Doyle lived in Dreamspell for over a year with no trouble. I bet we could do better than that because we’d have more resources at our disposal.” “What about your writing? You write for some major magazines, Shaun. You have editors and deadlines and research trips all over the world. How can you live off the grid without givin’ all that up?” 268

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“We’ll figure it out. There are always pseudonyms and offshore bank accounts. And if it doesn’t work out, I’m really okay with that. If I can’t write, I’ll find something else. It’s just a job. And that job”—he cupped Rannon’s cheek and brushed a kiss against his mouth—“is insignificant compared to you, to us.” “What would you say if… ” Rannon took a hard swallow. “If?” “If I said maybe I’d like to help people. People like us.” Shaun grew very still. “It sounds dangerous.” “I know. It’s just that… I spent my whole life up until a few weeks ago tryin’ to hide from who I really am because all I’d ever known, all I’d ever seen, was the bad parts. It terrified me and I wanted to bury my head in the sand and pretend Fels and Mals and all the huntin’ and killin’ didn’t exist.” “I know that feeling. I’ve done a lot of burying, too.” “I know, babe.” Rannon leaned in and kissed him again, savoring the warmth and love that radiated from Shaun. Then he shook his head. “But the thing is, we both know all that violence does exist and even when you try to hide or run, it always catches up to you somehow. I realize there are always goin’ to be bad seeds in every species that get off on hurting others. But I’m certain there are other Mals out there who are like you, like that gal in Oklahoma I helped, like the sheriff, who’re just tryin’ to live their lives and do the best they can with the curse they’ve been given. Yet they’re still hunted down and murdered. And I suspect there are other Fels out there like me, who feel sick inside at how they were raised and don’t want to be part of the insanity. And most of them are all on their own. Like I was. But they don’t have to be.” Shaun cradled Rannon’s face between his warm hands. “Do 269

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you have any idea how much I love you? What an amazing person you are? I’m damned lucky to have you in my life and on my side, Rannon. And I think anyone else would be lucky to have you stand up for them, too.” Rannon smiled. “Does that mean you’ll help? Because I wouldn’t want to do it without you.” “Yeah,” he said softly. “I’ll help. I might have gray hair by the time I’m thirty-five over worrying about you”—he softened the words with a smile—“but of course I’ll help. Haven’t you figured out yet, from the first day I laid eyes on you, that hot summer afternoon when you handed Harold Creedy’s nuts to him on a platter, that you had me wrapped around your finger and I’d do anything for you?” The ever-present heat flared between them. “Anything?” Rannon asked, and slid his hand between them to rub the bulge at Shaun’s groin through his jeans. Shaun sucked in a slow, shaky breath at Rannon’s attention, his eyes hazed with lust and love. “Talk to me some more in that fucking sexy drawl and you might even get double prizes,” Shaun rasped. Desire, hot and sweet slid through Rannon. He leaned in closer to Shaun until his mouth rested against his ear. “I love you, Shaun McCarry.” Shaun’s hands stroked up and down his back and over his ass, warm, rough, and erotic. “I love you, too, Rann. More than you know.” “Then show me. Take me. Fuck me. And don’t ever let me go.”

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M. L. RHODES

Award-winning and best-selling author M. L. Rhodes lives in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains with her physicist husband, two teenage boys, and a menagerie of animals. She’s been writing professionally for sifteen years. Her characterization and emotional storytelling have received high critical acclaim and garnered her numerous awards in the writing industry. She’s had books published in several genres, but her focus now is entirely on gay male romance, which is her passion! If you’d like to keep up with what’s going on in M. L.’s world and find out about her new and upcoming releases, check out her website at www.mlrhodeswriting.com. *

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Don’t miss Vertigo by M. L. Rhodes, available at AmberAllure.com!

Each night Simon Saint-Saëns hunts the creatures of darkness that others fear—beings that come through dimensional rifts into our world from a world called Vertigo. Simon has unexplained superpowers that help him fight, but his is a desolate existence, fraught with danger. He works by himself and never allows anyone to get too close to him because his powers come at a terrible

cost—a secret he’s never revealed to anyone. Better to be alone than jeopardize the life of someone he cares about. Enslaved in Vertigo for years, Jaden Cole was one of the innocent lives Simon saved when he first started hunting. Jade had almost forgotten what it meant to be human...until Simon found him and brought him back to this world. But when their friendship turned into something more, Simon sent Jade away and cut him out of his life to keep Jade safe. Nine years later, when a new, powerful evil stirs to life in Vertigo and targets Simon as its enemy, Jade returns. He’s not the same innocent he was all those years ago, though. Now he has his own secret, one that could turn Simon against him, even force Simon to kill him. But Jade’s willing to risk everything, even his life, to save the man he’s always loved.

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