“What’s the matter?” he asked, soft lips brushing my ear again. “Afraid you’re going to lose?”
Was I? I’d never lost a race to him, but I’d never bet on one either. And my body was a high price to pay for a stumble at the wrong time. But if I won…My reward would have to be huge to match the one he’d named. I could ask for practically anything.
Did he have anything I wanted?
An inkling of an idea formed in my head. I smiled, my decision made. Jace didn’t know it, but he’d just given me an opportunity I couldn’t pass up—assuming I won. And if I lost? I’d worry about that when and if the time came.
“What do I get if I win?” I asked.
Jace purred in anticipation, trailing a finger slowly across my neck as he brushed back a strand of hair. “Anything you want. Name it.”
“First, let me up.”
He started to get up, then hesitated, considering. “Promise you won’t bolt?”
“I don’t make promises.” Anymore, I amended silently.
Jace chuckled. “Glad I asked.” He wrapped one hand around my right wrist, holding tight as he got to his knees, in case I made a dash for the hall. Pulling my arm forward with him, he knee-walked three steps to the door and swung it shut, then sat down and leaned against it, pulling me toward him by the arm he held captive.
I let Jace tug me down into his lap, my back resting against his chest. He moved my hair to one side and propped his chin on my shoulder, making a small sound of contentment deep in his throat. “So, what am I wagering?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.
Okay. No big deal, I thought. I’ve been in his lap before. We’d wrestled on mats in the basement and fallen asleep on the couch watching old horror movies. We’d even shared a sleeping bag once, on a camping trip. This was just more of the same. Friendly cuddling. Riiight.
I took a deep breath and held it, preparing to set my newly hatched escape plan in motion. “I want you to take my side. Convince Daddy to let me go back to school.”
Jace stiffened against me, lifting his chin from my shoulder. The back of his head thunked against the door. “Faythe…you know I can’t do that.” His arms were gone, as was the heat in his voice, drenched by the cold wash of reality.
I smiled, glad he couldn’t see my face. Ask for the impossible, then settle instead for what you really wanted in the first place. My father had taught me that lesson years ago. He probably never suspected I’d put it to good use.
“Are you afraid?” I asked, daring Jace to say yes and own up to a weakness.
“Of you or your father?”
I laughed. Good question. “Of losing.”
“Yes.” He didn’t even hesitate. “Pick something else, anything you want. But I can’t go against orders.”
“You mean you won’t.”
“It’s the same thing.” His tone pleaded with me to understand. “I swore myself to him.”
I nodded, and his arms snaked around my waist again, a gesture of relief that I’d accepted his decision. I’d counted on him saying no, and he hadn’t disappointed me.
Like all adopted Pride members, Jace had sworn allegiance to my father when he joined the Pride, and again when he became an enforcer shortly before I left for college. Any violation of his oath would end his association with the south-central Pride, and without endorsement or acceptance from another Alpha, he would not be welcomed into any of the others. He would become a wildcat—a natural-born werecat who either left his birth Pride or was exiled from it, usually for the commission of a crime. Such as breaking an oath of allegiance.
Wildcats have no recognized territory, no companionship, and no protection. They are vulnerable and alone. Wildcats are rare, because unlike the adolescent-rebellion version of freedom I’d claimed—the kind where Daddy still paid my tuition and rent—true independence is difficult to achieve in total social seclusion. Isolation from the Pride is most tomcats’ worst fear, and Jace was no exception.
I sighed for effect, and my eyes roamed my room as I pretended to try to think of an alternate prize, something worth risking my body for. After passing over my desk, bed, and dresser, my gaze settled on an old family photograph hanging on the wall. It was the last we’d ever taken. In it, a thirteen year-old version of me stood between Ryan and Owen, looking shinier and happier than I remembered ever actually being. After Ryan left, my mother refused to pose for another family picture. She took his absence very personally. I think she felt guilty for something I didn’t understand.
Ryan was one of those rare toms who wanted independence badly enough to leave the security of Pride life for the freedom of an existence with no supreme authority figure. He considered the rewards to be worth the risks, and more often than not, I thought he was right. But not Jace. He’d known since before his tenth birthday that he wanted to serve my father, if for no other reason than to be near Ethan, who would never consider leaving. Ethan and Jace were two halves of the same coin, and as such, could not be separated. Even by me.
Jace had sworn his oath to my father, but he kept it for Ethan.
Leaning my head against his chest, I took another deep breath, as if an idea had just occurred to me. “Fine, if I win, I get your keys.”
“My house keys?”
I tilted my face up, rubbing my cheek against his shirt as I tried to look at him. “No, Jace. Your car keys.”
“Why do you want—?” He stopped, shaking his head in sudden understanding. “No. I can’t help you run away again.”
“You wouldn’t be.” I removed his arms from my waist gently and turned around to sit facing him, still encircled by his long legs. “I’d say I took the keys. All you’d have to do is leave them lying around where I could grab them.”
From the hall came the creak of hinges and the whisper of wood sliding across carpet. Someone had just opened a door, probably to better hear our conversation. I tensed, listening for some sound with which to identify the eavesdropper, but heard only the quiet, steady rhythm of Jace breathing as he considered my proposal. If he heard the door open, he gave no sign.
I was a little surprised by how sincerely he considered my request. I could almost hear the argument between the devil atop one of his shoulders and the angel hovering over the other. As an enforcer, Jace took his vow to my father very seriously, and for him to even consider endangering his connection to the Pride meant that he wanted…what he wanted from me very, very badly. That realization was almost enough to make me reconsider my plan. Involving emotions added a dangerous edge to our little game. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. I just wanted a little liberty.
“We’d catch you,” he said finally, meeting my eyes as he brushed a strand of hair from my face with warm fingertips. “You know we would.”
His words faded into silence for a moment, as I debated how to answer in front of the secret listener. In the end, I decided it didn’t matter. Daddy was the only person I was worried about, and he was above spying, even on me. “Yeah, but I might get a long weekend out of it.” I smiled up at Jace. “And even if I don’t, I’ll be making a statement.”
He snorted. “Saying what, that you’re stupid, or just plain crazy?”
“That I’m an adult.”
“You want to prove you’re an adult by stealing my car for a joyride?”
I sighed. He would never understand, but at least he listened, unlike the others. “I’ll take what I can get. What are you driving these days, anyway?”
“A Pathfinder, and it’s new.”
“Great, so we’re on?”
He hesitated, searching my eyes, and I used the opportunity to practice my innocent look. He smiled. It was working. He was going to say yes. I knew it. And finally he nodded. Yes!
“You’d better come through if I win,” he said, his hand just above my elbow.
“About that…” I tugged on the hem of my shirt, avoiding his eyes.
He took my chin in one hand, lifting my face until I had to look at him. “B
acking out already?” His tone was casual, but again his eyes didn’t match. He was disappointed and trying to hide it.
“No.” I jerked my chin from his grasp. “I’m not backing out. Just…clarifying.” But man, I didn’t want to clarify, because that meant stating out loud what I was agreeing to, which would make it official, with no room to wiggle out of my promise. And I just couldn’t look at him while I promised to sleep with him.
I’d never considered myself shy until that moment, but our wager had made me reconsider several things, including Jace himself.
“Okay, clarify away,” he said, running his hand slowly up and down my bare arm. Goose bumps popped up all over, reminding me that even if I lost, I wasn’t really losing. This was Jace, and if I was truly honest with myself, I’d have to admit I’d always kind of wondered…
That was enough honesty for the moment. I was much better at manipulation. It was a natural gift.
I made myself meet his eyes, strengthening my resolve to win the race. If I had trouble looking at him, how was I ever going to go through with anything more? “If I lose…Well, I mean…” I glanced away, trying to gather my thoughts, but again he tilted my chin up. He grinned, clearly flattered that thinking of him along forbidden lines had me so flustered.
“You’re talking about one time, right?” I asked, blurting it out all in one breath, before I could chicken out again. “A one-night stand, of sorts.”
“Standing, huh?” he teased. “What are they teaching you at that school?”
I flushed, and could actually feel my cheeks burn.
He ran one knuckle down the side of my face, leaving a cold trail in its wake. “I was just kidding, Faythe,” he said, but his wistful tone made me doubt his words. I cringed inwardly, wondering how I always managed to bury myself so deep in trouble. Daddy would kill me if I started something with Jace. Ethan’s best friend was a great enforcer and practically a member of the family, but my father had made it clear early on that Jace was not suitable husband material for his only daughter. And neither of my parents understood a relationship, for me at least, that led to anything less than marriage and lots of babies.
Jace’s knuckle followed the line of my jaw, then trailed down my throat to the hollow between my collarbones, sending a fresh wave of shivers through me. “Once it is, if that’s what you want. After that, it’s up to you.” He paused, tilting his head down to catch my eyes. “It’s up to you anyway. We can forget the whole thing right now, if you want.”
I seriously considered it. Really. But if I said no, I’d be turning down my best chance of escape. Daddy wouldn’t let me have a car, for the same reason he’d installed bars on my bedroom window: I was a flight risk. So, if I wanted freedom, it would have to come behind the wheel of someone else’s car, and everyone knew better than to leave their keys unattended.
Digging deep inside myself, I recovered my determination to win. I needed those keys. “No. I’m still in.”
Jace’s smile brightened his whole face, turning his eyes into blue stained glass, lit from within. “Great. Let’s get the race out of the way so we can get down to the good stuff.”
I blushed again, and something low and sensitive clenched. I couldn’t help it. I had no intention of losing, but I was only human—well, mostly human, anyway—and subject to the same temptations as the rest of my gender. And what a temptation Jace was.
Could Marc’s overwhelming presence in my life be the real reason I’d never seriously considered Jace before, even though dating him would have seriously irked my father?
Marc. Shit. Marc would throw a fit if I lost and held up my end of the bargain. And there would be no way to hide it from him. Not in a house like ours, where we were lucky to shower in private. Screw Marc. I no longer cared what he thought. Really. Yet I was suddenly terribly eager to be on my feet, earning Jace’s keys and absolving myself of any obligation to him.
“The good stuff, huh?” I teased with newfound confidence, already backing out of his lap. “Then you’d better catch me.”
“You’re on.” He jumped to his feet with a speed and dexterity that would have shocked a human. But he was too late. Despite pausing to open the door, I was already halfway down the hall and looking back over my shoulder when Marc stepped out of the den to block Jace’s path. He’d intentionally let me go by.
“Move, Marc, she’s getting away,” Jace groaned. I slowed enough to turn around and jog backward, watching them uneasily as I went.
“Yes, she is.” Marc lunged to block Jace’s dart to the right.
“But if she wins—”
“I’m more worried about her losing.”
I cringed, but kept going. I should have realized the eavesdropper was Marc. Anyone else would have shown himself. Cats have amazing ears, and we were lucky my parents hadn’t heard us. How was I sure they hadn’t? Because my father would have already locked me in the basement and ground the key into steel powder.
Spinning in midstep, I shoved the back door open and raced for the trees, letting the screen slam shut behind me. I ran at top speed, glorying in the taste of freedom, temporary as it was. Grass tickled my bare feet, and the sultry night air caressed my skin. If I hadn’t been racing, I would have stopped to look at the moon. It was full, which wasn’t necessary for Shifting, but made for a very scenic run.
Standing at the tree line, I could still hear Jace and Marc arguing in the house behind me, but more interesting was what I heard in the woods.
Our ranch and its adjoining twenty acres of woodland backed up to the north side of the Davy Crockett National Forest, with nothing more than an imaginary boundary separating the two. What that meant for me was a freedom unlike anything I could ever gain in civilized society. It was the freedom of grass, and trees, and fallen leaves, and pinecones, and most important, the freedom of speed. With speed and our natural stealth came the power of life and death. It was an intoxication alcohol could never match. And it was my birthright.
Obviously, prudence demanded the use of caution during the tourist season, which included all three summer months, as well as most of the fall. But we could hear and smell humans long before we saw them, and we could see them before they saw us, so it really wasn’t difficult to avoid contact. In fact, it was kind of fun, like a one-sided game of sight-tag.
Deep in the forest, I heard the guys weaving among the trees, occasionally pouncing on one another, or on a rodent or small rabbit. Behind me, at the front of the house, Michael’s car growled to life, followed by the crunch of gravel beneath his tires and the biting odor of exhaust. He was going home.
I spared a moment for disappointment that my homecoming hadn’t meant more to my oldest brother, but only a moment. I sympathized with his obligations and respected them. Michael had a wife. He was the only tomcat I knew who’d married a human woman, and even though Holly was a model—an honest-to-goodness runway model who spent most of her time in New York, L.A., or Paris—maintaining his marriage when she was home required a delicate balance of secrecy and creative planning. Even better than most, I understood. Though I’ll admit to being curious about how he interacted with her normal, human family.
Jace burst through the back door with Marc on his heels while I was still unzipping my pants. I let them fall to the ground as I pulled my shirt over my head, then dropped my underwear on the small heap of clothing on the grass.
Both men ran toward me, pulling their shirts off as they came. I paused for a moment to enjoy the view as generous moonlight highlighted every hard plane on their chests and cast shadows beneath each ripple of their abs. Very nice. Almost worth being dragged home for.
The guys never bothered with neat piles. They left their clothing scattered all over the yard, draped across bushes and sometimes hanging from tree branches. It would have been quite a sight for the unaccustomed eye. Fortunately, we had no close neighbors and never had human visitors, other than Michael’s wife, who visited rarely enough that it was easy for us to keep our inner cats o
n their leashes. So there was seldom anyone around to be scandalized by our behavior.
Naked, I ducked beneath the branches of the nearest tree and into the forest, twigs and thorns scraping my bare skin. Relief rushed through me to ease tension I hadn’t even realized I’d felt. My impulse to rush was gone now; in crossing the tree line, I’d won the race. Jace’s car was mine, if and when I had the nerve to take it. I’d have to remember to thank Marc. Yeah, right.
My means of escape secured, I was ready to relax and stretch my legs in the forest, a luxury I’d sorely missed at school.
As soon as the guys were out of sight, I dropped to all fours and closed my eyes in concentration. Shifting always begins for me with a moment of quiet relaxation or meditation. It sounds like a page from Zen for Dummies, but it really helps and only takes a couple of minutes. It’s just a moment for my mind to acknowledge and submit to what my body wants.
Shifting is possible during moments of extreme stress, but I wouldn’t recommend it. If your brain hasn’t had a chance to adjust to what’s coming, it responds by sending your body more pain signals than necessary. No one wants to experience avoidable pain. Okay, maybe masochists do, but I harbor no fondness for pain. No fondness for experiencing it, anyway.
Dimly, I heard leaves rustle as Marc and Jace entered the woods, but I made no effort to acknowledge them. I didn’t need to. They dropped to the ground, one on either side of me, and began their own Shifts.
On my knees, with my nose less than two feet from the ground, I breathed in the fragrances of the forest, letting the pine-scented air trigger my Shift. Just as certain notes played on the piano can bring to mind an entire melody, so the smell of last year’s pine needles and leaf mold called forth the cat from inside me. An undulating wave of pain and change, the Shift rolled through me, tensing and relaxing my muscles with no pattern I could discern.