M L Rhodes Into The Woods

NTO

OODS

… 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…

LSO

M. L. R

HODES

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

M. L. RHODES

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

http://www.AmberQuill.com

NTO

OODS

MBER

UILL

RESS

OOK

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

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.

ISBN 978-1-61124-000-9

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

INTO THE WOODS

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.

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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,

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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?

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

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’t-

even-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?

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

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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

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

“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?”

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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 old-
fashioned 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,

INTO THE WOODS

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,”

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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.”

INTO THE WOODS

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 Scotch-
Irish 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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

CHAPTER 3

As his shovel bit into the muddy ground, creating an ever-

deepening 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

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

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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

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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

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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

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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 cold-
blooded 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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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,

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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

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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

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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

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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-crap-
everywhere, empty-booze-bottles-sitting-around, inhabited-by-a-
man-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

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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.

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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, outdoorsy-
looking, 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

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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,

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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?”

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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!

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.”

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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.”

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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

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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.

INTO THE WOODS

“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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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.

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

INTO THE WOODS

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

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100

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

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101

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.

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102

“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

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103

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.

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104

“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

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105

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

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106

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.

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107

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

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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 T-
shirt 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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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.

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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?

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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

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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.

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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?

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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

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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

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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… ”

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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,

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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.

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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.

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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

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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,

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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

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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

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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,

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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?”

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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.

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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,

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.”

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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?”

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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.

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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 non-
dream 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

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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?

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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“Not under the bed,” he heard the man say. “Playing hide-n-

seek, 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!”

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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.”

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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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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

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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?”

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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?”

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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

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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!”

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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

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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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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 pain-

hazed 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

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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

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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.”

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190

“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.

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191

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.”

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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

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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

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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 Buzz-

cut, 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 sharp-
toothed 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.

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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.

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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

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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

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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 under-

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200

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.

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201

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,

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202

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?”

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203

“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 blood-
sucking 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

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204

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 rose-
colored 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… ”

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205

“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?”

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206

“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

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207

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”

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208

“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

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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?”

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210

“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.

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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,

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212

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.

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213

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

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214

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.”

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.”

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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 stay-

hard-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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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,

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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237

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

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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.

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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.

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240

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

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241

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

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242

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

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243

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.

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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!”

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245

“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

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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.”

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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

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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.

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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.

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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

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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

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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.

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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 spine-

tingling, pain-filled animal yowl vibrated in the air, echoing off the
trees.

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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

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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.

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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 T-
shirt, 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

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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.”

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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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

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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?”

INTO THE WOODS

269

“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

INTO THE WOODS

270

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.”

M. L. R

HODES

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.

* * *

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.

MBER

UILL

RESS

, LLC

OLD

TANDARD IN

UBLISHING

UALITY

OOKS

OTH

RINT AND

LECTRONIC

ORMATS

CTION

DVENTURE

USPENSE

HRILLER

CIENCE

ICTION

ARK

ANTASY

AINSTREAM

OMANCE

ORROR

ROTICA

ANTASY

GLBT

ESTERN

YSTERY

ARANORMAL

ISTORICAL

IRECT

AVE

www.AmberQuill.com

www.AmberHeat.com

www.AmberAllure.com

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