Rise of the Jaguar Page 9

  “I’m sorry I was a dick about your heat,” he said.

  “Thanks. I’m sorry I growled at you,” she said.

  “Any chance you’ll have enough of the meds still in your system to help stop it?” he said.

  “Unfortunately, no.” She stared at her empty plate.

  Maybe it won’t be as bad as you think,” he said.

  She laughed bitterly. “It will be. I’ve only been off the drugs once in the last seven years. When you’ve been taking them as long as I have, your first few initial heats are… well, they’re intense. The loss of control is overwhelming, I mean… there’s always a loss of control during a heat, but it’s twice as bad when you’re coming off the meds.”

  Anger tinged with a bit of fear about tomorrow made her clench her hands into tight fists. “Sometimes, I fucking hate being a cat shifter. You have no idea what it’s like to be ruled by something you have no control over. If I were any other type of shifter, I wouldn’t be freaking out about tomorrow and what I might do to -”

  She cut herself off. If Clay thought she was a danger to him, he’d put a bullet in her brain and be done with it. Hell, she was lucky he hadn’t already murdered her. She wasn’t stupid. The way he’d killed the men in Wilson’s office without hesitating, the hardness in those pretty blue eyes of his… if he didn’t make his living as a hired killer, she’d eat her own fucking shirt.

  Clay was an incredibly dangerous man. So, what did it say about her that she still wanted to fuck him?

  “Why did you stop taking the drugs before?” Clay said.

  “In order to have kittens, you need to be off the drugs for six months to a year. Even then, you may never conceive. It’s the risk you take when you suppress your heat. My sister has never suppressed her heat because she wants kittens, and it isn’t worth the risk to her. But I know plenty of cat shifters who’ve gotten pregnant even after years of taking the drugs, so I wasn’t as concerned.”

  She took another sip of water to ease her suddenly dry throat. “I was married before. To a cheetah shifter named Ira. It was a mistake, and the marriage didn’t last long.”

  She waited for him to ask why not, and when he didn’t, she went on. “But before I realized what a mistake it was to marry Ira, we tried for a kitten. Ira and I were together for almost a year before we married, but he’d never gone through a heat with me. I went off my medication as soon as we were married. I had my first heat in nearly a decade later that month. I thought Ira could,” she paused, “handle it with me, but I was wrong.”

  Feeling weirdly ashamed, she said, “We both chalked it up to it being the first heat after being on the meds for so long. I was very…” fuck, how did she put it politely, “rough with him and demanding.”

  “But he’s a shifter. He would have healed from any bites or scratches,” Clay said.

  Her cheeks were hot, and she couldn’t look at him. “That’s true, but it still hurts to be bitten and scratched. Most shifters who are mated to a cat deal with it because they know she isn’t doing it on purpose, and it’s a part of being mated to a cat shifter. Some cats get lucky, and their mate likes a little pain with the pleasure. Unfortunately, Ira wasn’t either of those.”

  Clay studied her across the island. She forced herself to continue. “We thought the next heat would be different. It wasn’t. Neither was the third one or the fourth. Ira couldn’t satisfy me during the heat period, and… it became a wedge in our relationship even when I wasn’t in heat. A few weeks before my fifth heat was due, Ira said he wanted me to go back on the suppressing drugs. I begged him to reconsider, I was ready to get pregnant and start our family, but he said if I didn’t go back on them, he would leave me.”

  Clay grunted in surprise, and she glanced at him. “Yeah, Ira was a real prince. Anyway, I went back on the drugs because I didn’t want my marriage to end after less than five months. But the real issue was that Ira thought that it was coming off the drugs that made my heats so intense. He was right about the first one, maybe even the second one. But by the third… it was my normal heat, and he still couldn’t help me through all forty-eight hours of it. I couldn’t tell him that, though. He was at the point of getting angry and upset that I even went into heat every month.”

  “That says something about him, not you,” Clay said.

  Hating the shame that she could hear in her voice, she said, “I don’t know if it was because of my scratching and biting, or because of the pressure he felt about performing, but each heat he got worse and worse about helping me. I felt terrible after the heat was over, but during I… well, I’m not myself during the actual heat. Halfway through my last one, Ira just up and left the house. He stayed in a hotel for the last day of it while I…”

  “While you suffered alone,” he said.

  She picked up her fork, tapping it against her empty plate. “I can’t blame him. I know I’m more demanding than most. But at the same time, he didn’t want me using a vibrator during the heat. He left during the last one because I finally gave in and used a vibrator. He was so angry about it. He said it emasculated him and made him feel even worse. But I was in agony.”

  You’re seriously oversharing, Em.

  Yeah, she was, but fuck it. The odds of Clay killing her tomorrow when she went after him in the middle of her heat were pretty high, actually. What did it matter if he knew she’d resorted to using a vibrator because her mate couldn’t satisfy her?

  Clay gave her what almost looked like a sympathetic look. Well, as sympathetic as a hired killer could look. Deciding to capitalize on his pity, she said, “I don’t suppose any of your previous… lady friends would have left a vibrator here at some point?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t bring women to this cabin. Until you, only Owen and I have been here.”

  Her thin thread of hope vanished, leaving a sick feeling of dread. The lasagna sat like a stone in her belly, and she suddenly regretted eating that second piece. Her jaguar purred to her, trying to comfort Emerson as best she could.

  “Did you leave your ex because he couldn’t satisfy you?” Clay said.

  She blinked at him, not sure what he was talking about for a minute. “Oh, uh, no. About three weeks after I started retaking the meds, my Saturday afternoon yoga class was cancelled. I came home to find Ira in our bed with our housekeeper.”

  The look on Clay’s face would have been funny if she wasn’t so worried about tomorrow.

  “You’re fucking kidding me,” he said.

  “I wish. He said I put too much pressure on him, that he still loved me, but he couldn’t handle the way I was during sex.”

  “Holy fuck,” Clay said. “What an asshole.”

  This time she did laugh. It was amusing to hear the hired killer call her ex-husband an asshole. But honestly, he was probably right. Clay might be a bad guy, but somehow she knew he would never cheat on a woman.

  “Yeah. Anyway, we separated. My sister flew in, and we burned a bunch of his shit, and then I filed for divorce and moved out of the house.”

  Clay laughed. “You burned his stuff?”

  She nodded. “My sister wanted to carve out his spleen. We compromised and burned his shit instead.”

  “Remind me never to piss off your sister,” he said. The grin faded from his face. “Seriously though, you know that your ex is the asshole, right? You did nothing wrong.”

  “Yeah.” She did know that, but it was nice to hear it from someone who wasn’t a friend or family.

  Clay continued to stare at her. Unnerved by the look on his face, she changed the subject. “So, when did you buy the cabin?”

  “About a decade ago. Our parents use to bring Owen and me to White Rock every year for a skiing vacation. When we were older, they started renting a cabin here on the mountain. We loved it, and this place has good memories for both of us. So, I bought a cabin, and the two of us stay here two or three times in the winter season. I traveled a lot for work, so sometimes it was the only time I saw Owen all year
.”

  “Your parents don’t join you?” she said.

  “They passed away,” Clay said.

  “I’m sorry.”

  He took a drink of water. “They died in that plane crash a few years back, the one that crashed into the ocean and killed everyone on board - shifter and human.”

  “I remember it,” she said. “Did your parents have abilities too?”

  “No, but my grandmother on my mother’s side did. She was a pusher, like Owen. And the rumour is that my great-great-grandfather could teleport.”

  “So, how difficult was it on your mom and dad to have kids who could teleport and push them into doing whatever they said?” Emerson said.

  A small smile crossed Clay’s face. “We couldn’t do it until we hit puberty. I didn’t hear the hum until I was fifteen. Owen’s powers came in a little earlier at thirteen.”

  “Even worse,” Emerson said. “Moody teenagers with superpowers. Your poor mother.”

  This time Clay outright laughed, and the sound made her jaguar purr and her pussy tingle. “Owen never used his abilities on either of my parents. He obeyed the house rules, always.”

  “And you?”

  “Let’s just say my mother was extremely thankful that Owen had the push ability, not me,” he said with a grin.

  “Surprise, surprise,” she said. “So, Owen never used his powers on people?”

  “Owen’s always been very,” Clay searched for the word, “pure. He understood the consequences of using his powers at an early age and never abused it.”

  “Seriously? He didn’t even use them on a teacher or a babysitter or something?” she said. “He had to have used them at least once.”

  A sick look crossed Clay’s face, and the scent of his sudden guilt was so overwhelming that her jaguar whined softly. “He used them once as a teenager when he shouldn’t have.”

  He didn’t say anything else. Hating the scent of his guilt and shame, she hurriedly changed the subject. “So, you and Owen are pretty close, huh?”

  “Yes. We’re only fourteen months apart, and we were always close. We never fought the way that brothers sometimes did.”

  She decided that she really liked the look Clay got on his face whenever he spoke about Owen. It was clear how much he loved him.

  “My sister and I are fourteen months apart, too,” she said. “We’re thick as thieves, as my dad would say, but we also fought a lot, especially as teens. It drove my mother crazy. What did Owen do for work before that Wyatt guy handed him over to Wilson?”

  “After we graduated high school, I joined the military, and Owen went to a local college and got his degree in IT. After that, he worked for the same law firm for years. Owen lived with my parents until my dad retired, and they sold the house and moved into a condo. He got his own apartment, but he still spent a lot of time with our parents. It was hard on him when they died. He still misses them. We both do.”

  The look on his face made her want to take his hand. Instead, she tucked her hands into a fist and kept them in her lap, not sure that he would appreciate any attempt at comfort from her. “Did the military know about your teleport abilities?”

  “Christ, no,” he said. “They would have dissected me like a fucking rat while telling my parents I’d been killed overseas.”

  “So, only your parents and Owen knew what you could do?”

  “For the longest time, yes. Over the years, other people have discovered it. Mostly people I did jobs with, like Dax.”

  “So, after you left the military, you started doing,” she paused, “other stuff.”

  “I joined the private sector, yes.”

  “Doing what?”

  He stared at her, and she flushed. “You’re a mercenary, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  She cleared her throat. “Is this the part where you tell me you have to kill me now?”

  “No. But I’m not a good guy, Emerson. Owen is the only person I care about. You need to remember that.”

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she said. “So, why exactly did you become a hired killer? You had a normal childhood, parents who loved you, a good relationship with your brother. Why the killing?”

  “I’m good at it,” he said.

  “Being good at something isn’t an answer for why you do it,” she said. “In the movies, the bad guy has had some type of trauma. A terrible childhood, parents who abandoned them… there’s always a reason why they take these kinds of… jobs. So, what is yours?”

  “Money,” he said.

  “You’re a terrible liar,” she said.

  “I’m actually very good at lying.”

  “Not with me,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, it helps when you can smell that someone’s lying.”

  “Lying doesn’t have a scent,” she said.

  He stared steadily at her. “I do it for the money. End of story.”

  “Sure, okay,” she said.

  She swallowed her laughter. Being amused that a contract killer was irritated with her was incredibly stupid, but she couldn’t deny that she was. Despite watching him kill half a dozen people, she had a hard time believing that there wasn’t a small part of Clay that was good. There had to be. He wouldn’t talk about Owen like he did if there weren’t some goodness left inside of him.

  Clay cleared his throat. “How often did you talk to Owen at the office? Did he seem… okay?”

  Guilt covered him in a thick scent again. She tried to give him something, anything, to help ease his guilt. “He would show up at the office once or twice a week. He was on the quiet side, and he didn’t linger long in the staff room or other places, but as Wilson’s PA, I probably saw him more than most.”

  She smiled a little. “We once had an hour-long conversation about Star Trek. He’s a big fan, huh?”

  Clay laughed. “Yeah. He’s been to a few Cons. One year he made me go with him and dressed me up like Data from Next Generation. The makeup caused a reaction with my skin, and I was covered in a rash for a week afterward.”

  She smiled and said, “He talked about Jonathan a lot. From the sounds of it, they lived together. Jonathan is a big Star Trek fan too. Owen said they met at a convention. It’s obvious that Owen really loves him.”

  Clay’s guilt flooded the kitchen. Unable to stop herself, she reached across the island and took his hand. “This isn’t your fault, Clay.”

  “It is,” he said. “Wyatt took Owen so that I would do what he wanted. Wyatt only knew about Owen because I introduced them, because I trusted him to -”

  He swallowed hard, his hand clamping down onto hers until it was a little painful. “Owen’s life was ruined because of me. He’s been a prisoner for two years, forced to use his powers in ways that he wouldn’t want to, while being kept from the guy he loves. This is all my fault, and I will do whatever it takes to save him, Emerson.”

  “I know,” she said.

  They sat quietly for a moment. Clay rubbed his thumb absentmindedly over the pulse point on her wrist. She tried to ignore the way it made her nerve endings light up, but when Clay’s guilt disappeared, and the faint scent of his lust took its place, her jaguar sat up eagerly, purring loudly and already trying to convince Emerson to fuck him.

  Clay stared at their linked hands, the drag of his thumb across her skin becoming slower, more intimate. “I could try to help you. With your heat.”

  Her jaguar’s purring turned deafening. Before she could do something stupid like accept his offer, she pulled her hand free and slid off the stool, backing up until she was in the living room. “Thank you, but no.”

  “Why not?” he asked. “You’re attracted to me. Don’t pretend you aren’t.”

  “I can’t,” she said.

  “Because of what I am,” he said.

  “No. Because of what I am. I’ll tear you apart, Clay.”

  “I’m tougher than I look,” he said.

  She laughed bitterly. “You’re still no match for my teeth or my cla
ws.”

  “What will you do then?” he said. “You can’t leave the cabin. You’ll die in the blizzard.”

  “If I shift to my jaguar, I might be able to make it into town.” She studied the blowing snow outside. “My fur is thick, and I’m more sure-footed as a jaguar.”

  He shook his head. “It’s too cold. Even if you didn’t die immediately from hypothermia, you’d never find your way off the mountain. Not in this storm.”

  She knew he was right, but she said, “I have a good sense of smell. I might -”

  “You won’t,” he said. “You can’t leave the cabin, Emerson.”

  She rubbed at the back of her neck. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Then what will you do?” he repeated.

  I won’t hurt the human, her jaguar pleaded. Please give him to me.

  Shh, sweet one. You’ll hurt him. You won’t mean to, but you will.

  I won’t. I promise.

  “Emerson?” Clay prompted.

  She sucked in a deep breath. “I’ll lock myself in the bedroom during my heat. Just… whatever you hear, don’t come into the bedroom all right?”

  He frowned. “You’ll need to come out to eat and drink.”

  “I’ll take food and water in with me,” she said. “Don’t come into the room, okay?”

  “Aren’t you being a little extreme?” he said.

  She raised her hand, watching his face as she let her nails extend into her claws. He stared at them as she said, “You’re right, you know. I’m attracted to you. Which means if I see you during my heat, I’ll try to fuck you. And you’ll have these raking down your back. Slicing open your skin while I sink my teeth into your throat. Please, stay away from me during my heat, Clay. Promise me.”

  He hesitated, and she wanted to scream at his stubbornness. “Remember what I did to you in the parking lot? I wasn’t in heat then.”

  “Fine,” he said. “I’ll stay away from you.”

  Chapter 9

  He heard her walking past his bedroom early the following day. Despite his promise, he immediately got out of bed. A quick ten-minute shower later, and he joined her in the kitchen.