Emerson opened the bathroom door and peered into the hallway. The air was cold after the steamy warmth of the bathroom. Her nipples hardened against the thin towel she had wrapped around her body, and goosebumps popped up on her skin.
There was no sign of Clay. She sprinted for the bedroom she had holed up in, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it. She felt stupid but also – she had no desire to see Clay when she was wearing nothing but a damn towel.
She dropped the wadded-up ball of clothes on the bed before opening the second drawer of the plain oak dresser in the room. She chose one of the t-shirts folded neatly inside and slipped it over her head. It was too big as were the athletic shorts she found in the third drawer, but she didn’t care. She tied the drawstring in the shorts as tight as she could before sitting on the side of the bed and finger combing her wet hair.
The toiletries in the bathroom were all decidedly male smelling, but, like the clothes, she didn’t give a shit. Both her arm and the back of her head where that asshole of a tiger shifter had tried to drive her skull through a wall had healed overnight, but her hair and skin were matted with dried blood, and so were her clothes.
Her stomach growled loudly. She hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, and she was starving. She’d considered sneaking out late last night and searching the kitchen for food but had fallen asleep still thinking about it. All things considered, she’d slept pretty well. Of course, watching a man die, then nearly dying yourself, and then being teleported took a lot out of a person.
The cabin was quiet when she left the bedroom earlier this morning, but she’d smelled Clay’s scent coming from a room further down the hall. The clock in the kitchen told her it was just after six. The blizzard still raged outside, and she’d used the bathroom, brushed her teeth with the new toothbrush she’d found in the cabinet, and showered.
She rubbed at her temples. Fuck, she was in a real goddamn mess. Her purse and her cell phone were back at Wilson’s home office as far as she knew. Not that it mattered. She doubted there was any service in the cabin, and even if there were, the blizzard would have knocked it out. Hell, she was shocked they still had power. It was only early November, but the wind's fury and the amount of snow falling made it feel like the dead of winter.
Hey, Em? You’ve got bigger problems than not having your cell phone. Your heat starts the day after tomorrow, and you’ve already missed one dose of your meds. By tomorrow they’ll be entirely out of your system, and with no way to get more, you’re gonna have your first heat in over a year.
She visibly shuddered, her stomach churning and real fear slinking down her spine. She couldn’t think that way. Today or tomorrow, the storm would end, and she would get off this mountain and get to the nearest pharmacist.
What if the storm doesn’t end? Your heat will be so bad. You won’t be able to stay away from Clay. Even if you could convince him to have sex with you, it won’t work. You’ll hurt him, maybe even kill him.
Her jaguar growled grumpily. I won’t hurt the human. Give him to me.
Shh, sweet one. He’s too weak for mating.
Her jaguar growled again, but Emerson ignored it. The storm would end. It had to. She couldn’t go through a heat trapped in this cabin with Clay. She was attracted to him, and once her heat started…
For a moment, she thought she might vomit. If she hurt Clay, if she tried to force him to have sex with her… no, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. The storm had to end soon. Please, God, let it end soon.
She cocked her head, listening intently. Clay’s bedroom door opened, and there were footsteps in the hallway. She tensed, but the footsteps faded as Clay walked to the kitchen.
Her stomach growled again. She was lightheaded and needed food, but going out there meant seeing Clay.
So what? If he tries anything, you can just slice him and dice him.
Her jaguar growled. She didn’t like the idea of hurting Clay. Emerson shook her head in exasperation. Sure, Clay was good looking and a great kisser, but obviously, Thursday night had just been him trying to use her to get to Owen. Not to mention he was an asshole who blamed her for his failed rescue attempt. Her jaguar’s stupid crush on him was annoying as hell.
She stood and straightened her back. She would not hide in the bedroom like a frightened kitten. She’d done nothing wrong, and she deserved both some food and some damn answers. She left the bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind her. The cabin was one level with an open concept. The front door opened into the combined kitchen and living room, and a hallway branched to the left and the right at the far end of the living room. To her right was what she suspected was Clay’s bedroom and to her left was the guest bathroom and another closed door. A third bedroom, probably.
She left the hallway and crossed the living room to the kitchen island. Clay was standing at the counter with his back turned to her. He wore a t-shirt and a pair of track pants that clung to his admittedly perfect ass.
Her jaguar purred happily and, annoyed with herself for still lusting after someone who was clearly a dick, she leaned against the island and stared silently at his broad back.
“Is your arm healed?” He added some pancake mix to a large mixing bowl without turning around.
“Yes.”
“Your head injury?”
She frowned. “How do you know about my head?”
He added water to the bowl and whisked it. “Do you like pancakes?”
“Do you care?”
“Pancakes are Owen’s favourite. I can take them or leave them, but I bought five fucking boxes when I stocked the pantry because Owen would eat them for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if I let him.”
His voice was steady, but she could smell his sorrow and his fear. Her anger with him dissipated a little. “Owen will be okay. Wilson won’t hurt him. What he can do… he’s too valuable for Wilson not to keep him safe.”
“Yeah. How many pancakes do you want?”
“Two,” she said.
He poured some pancake mixture into a pan on the stove. He turned, and she pulled self-consciously at her shirt when his gaze dropped to her braless tits before moving to her hips and then thighs.
“My clothes were dirty,” she said. “I found these in the dresser.”
His gaze returned to her tits and lingered for a few seconds before he turned away. “They’re Owen’s clothes. Make yourself useful and grab plates and utensils.”
He pointed to the far cupboard, and she took out a couple of plates and two glasses before looking in the drawer for utensils. She stared longingly at the coffee machine on the counter. “Would you mind if I made myself a coffee?”
He pointed to the narrow floor-to-ceiling door at the far end of the kitchen cabinets. “Pods are in the pantry.”
She opened the door, twitching in surprise at the amount of food in the cupboard. It was narrow but deep, and all six shelves were brimming with food.
“Grab the syrup while you’re in there.” Clay flipped the pancake.
She found the syrup behind a towering pyramid of canned vegetables and grabbed a pod of coffee. “Do you want a coffee?”
“I don’t drink it,” Clay said.
“Strike two,” she said under her breath as she loaded the pod into the machine, set a mug under it, and hit the button.
He slid the pancake onto her plate. “What was my strike one?”
“Oh, I don’t know… trying to seduce me to get to my boss?”
“One, I was trying to get to my brother, not your boss. And two, I didn’t try to seduce you, I did seduce you,” he said.
“Bullshit,” she said. “I didn’t go back to your hotel room.”
“No, but you were this close to fucking me in the parking lot of that pub,” Clay said.
She growled at him, and he grinned smugly. “It’s true.”
“Whatever,” she said dismissively before taking her coffee to the island. She took a sip of the dark liquid and then poured syrup over her pancake. By the time she finished the first one, Clay had slid the second one onto her plate. She ate it in silence while Clay cooked some pancakes for himself.
He joined her at the island and poured syrup over his pancakes before digging in. She sipped at her coffee, the buzz of caffeine a welcome comfort as the windows rattled from the wind.
Clay glanced at her. “So, Owen’s gay?”
“Yes,” she said. “And I’m a total shit for outing him without his permission.”
“He won’t care,” Clay said. “Owen has a forgiving nature.”
“Why didn’t he tell you?” she said.
“Maybe he thought I’d be disappointed in him.”
“Are you?”
“No,” he said. “I want him to be happy. I don’t care who he loves, just that they love him too. Are you friends with Owen? Is that why he wanted me to help you first?”
She stared into her half-empty coffee cup. “We’re friendly, but I wouldn’t say we’re friends. Wilson kept him on a very short leash in the office. But even if I hadn’t been there, Owen wouldn’t have left with you. Wilson has Owen’s boyfriend. A guy named Jonathan. He’s holding him hostage in order to make Owen help him. He lets Owen video chat with him once a week, but that’s it.”
“Fuck.” Clay pushed his half-eaten plate of pancakes away. “Tell me everything that happened after Granger murdered that guy in front of you.”
She nearly fell off the stool. “How do you know about Mr. Tridell?”
“You tell your story first, and then I’ll tell mine,” Clay said.
“Why should I believe you’ll tell me anything?” she said.
He studied her for a moment before holding out his pinky finger with a small smile on his face. “We’ll pinky swear on it.”
“What are you, seven?” she said.
He stared at her, that annoyingly cute smile still on his face. After a moment, she hooked her pinky around his. The way her jaguar purred happily and the slight rush of excitement that washed over her skin at just that brief contact annoyed the hell out of her.
She pulled her hand away, and Clay picked up his fork. “Start talking, Emerson.”
“So, the suppressant only lasts two weeks?” Clay said.
Emerson poured herself a second cup of coffee. “That’s what the Martin Grimes guy said. I don’t know if it’s true or not. When Randy was injected, he said it felt like a glass wall between him and his bear. How does it feel for you?”
“It doesn’t feel like anything,” Clay said. “I just… I can’t find a hum. Any of them.”
“A hum?”
“When I want to teleport, I find the hum for where I want to go,” he said as if that explained everything. “They’re gone. All of them.”
“But how do you hear a place’s hum?” she said.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. How do you shift to your jaguar?”
“I call for her,” she said.
“Like a here, kitty, kitty, call?” he said.
She scowled at him. “Ha, ha. It’s not actual words. It’s a... feeling or a thought, maybe. I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Just like I can’t explain mine. I see a place, and then I hear its hum in my head. If I want to go there, I follow the hum. The hum is fainter if it’s a place I see through video rather than in person, but I can usually hear it.”
“What about a photo?” she said.
“No hum for a photo.”
“Why not?”
“How the hell should I know?” he said irritably. “It doesn’t matter now anyway. I can’t hear any fucking hum, and I may never again.”
She told herself not to bristle at his irritation. If she had suddenly lost her ability to shift, she’d be freaking out a fuck of a lot more than Clay was.
Clay walked to the fireplace, and as he started a fire, she loaded the dishes in the dishwasher and left the pan to soak in the sink. She grabbed her coffee and joined Clay. He was sitting on the couch, and she sank into the end farthest from him. “Your turn. Tell your story, Clay.”
“A man I worked for, a bear shifter named Wyatt who was once a friend, knew about my powers and Owen’s. He took Owen as collateral to ensure that I would keep working for him.”
“What were you doing for him?”
“It’s not important,” Clay said. “Wyatt was killed before I could find out what he’d done with Owen. I’ve spent the last two years searching for him.”
“How did you find him?”
“Not important.”
She sighed with exasperation. “Buddy, if a good ninety percent of your story is you saying ‘not important’, I’m going to be really pissed.”
He stared at the flickering flames. “Years ago, I worked a few jobs with that fucking asshole, Dax. We became friends, as much as men like us could be friends. He knew about my teleportation power. We had a falling out during our final job and -”
“What was the falling out about?”
“It’s not -”
She growled, and he smiled a little before saying, “We disagreed on how to handle the job. Anyway, we went our separate ways. He started working for Granger a few months after that. Maybe six months after that, Wilson Granger tried to, for lack of a better word, kidnap me.”
“Holy shit,” Emerson said. “Dax told him about your powers.”
“He did. The kidnapping attempt failed, and I had Wyatt to thank for it. He saved my life that night. We became friends, and five years later, when his wife became ill, I tried to help Wyatt find a cure for her. Wyatt and I were very close by that point.”
Clay’s voice had grown quieter, and he was staring into the flames again. “After Owen, he was my best friend. I trusted him. Owen trusted him. So, when Owen revealed his powers to him, I didn’t worry about it. I knew Wyatt would never betray us.”
“But you were wrong,” she said softly.
He nodded. “Wyatt’s wife, Lora, she meant everything to him. Wyatt went mad trying to find a cure for her. Finally, he asked me to do something I wouldn’t do. When I refused, that’s when he told me he had Owen. Lora escaped and killed Wyatt before I could find out where Owen was.”
He took a deep breath. For the first time since she’d met him, he looked shaky and a little afraid. She held back the urge to take his hand to try to comfort him.
“Once I found Owen, I knew it would be almost impossible to rescue him. Wilson had Owen under heavy security. He was either at the office building or Wilson’s home, and I didn’t know what either building looked like inside. Teleporting into a moving vehicle is impossible, and when they took him in and out of the vehicle, he was always inside the warehouse or Wilson’s garage.”
“And you can’t teleport into a place you haven’t seen because you can’t hear its hum,” Emerson said.
“That’s right.”
“So, how did you get into Wilson’s house?” she said. “If you didn’t know what his office looked like, how did you… shit, it was me.”
He studied her silently, and she said, “You bugged me. That night at the pub was just an excuse to get a video camera on me, right?” She stared at her body. “Where the fuck is it?”
“The daisy pin on your jacket,” he said. “I’d been watching Wilson for a while, and you were one of the few employees who had access to his house. I knew I couldn’t bug an employee who worked in the office and then teleport into the building. The warehouse is too big, and there was no guarantee that I would find Owen before Wilson killed me or took me hostage as well.”
“So, you used me as a way to see into Wilson’s house,” she said.
“Yes. The original plan was to watch the video when you were at Wilson’s house. Once I had the hum, I would teleport in during the middle of the night and find Owen. Only shit went sideways when you saw Wilson kill that guy.”
She laughed dully. “Yeah, it sure did.”
“I was outside the office watching the video feed when Wilson killed the guy. I followed you and the others to Wilson’s home. When I saw Owen step in front of the camera, I couldn’t stop myself from going after him right then,” Clay said. “But you hadn’t moved very much in the room, so I hadn’t seen a lot of it through the camera, and the hum was faint. So faint it was almost imperceptible. Teleporting in was a risk. I could have teleported myself halfway into a wall or a piece of furniture. As it was, I almost fucking teleported directly into that bear shifter. Another few inches, and I would have been inside him.”
She shuddered all over, the thought too gruesome to even picture. “So, that’s why you didn’t teleport directly next to Owen and just grab him.”
“That’s right. If,” Clay swallowed hard, “when my abilities return, I’ll teleport back into Wilson’s office and find Owen.”
She frowned. “Wilson knows you can’t teleport without seeing a place first, right?”
“Dax knew, so yeah, Wilson will know. Why?”
“He’ll have his office locked down, Clay. He’ll have men watching it twenty-four, seven. And even if you do teleport in there and kill everyone – which is highly unlikely – he won’t have Owen at his home anymore. It’s a suicide mission.”
“Even if Owen isn’t there, Wilson will be. He’s an arrogant prick who thinks men and guns will keep him safe from me. He won’t abandon his home just because I know what part of it looks like. But once I have a fucking gun to his head, he’ll bring Owen to me,” Clay said.
“What about Jonathan?” she said.
“What about him?” Clay said.
“I’m pretty sure Owen doesn’t know where Wilson is keeping Jonathan, but I know he won’t leave without him.”
“He won’t have a choice,” Clay said.
“They’ll kill Jonathan if you take Owen,” she said.
“I know.”
The horror she felt must have shown on her face because Clay said, “I’m not a good guy, Emerson. Don’t start thinking that I am. Finding Owen is the only thing that matters to me, and I will sacrifice anyone who gets in my way of saving him.”
“Noted,” she said. Her voice was a little shaky. She didn’t know if that was because Clay had just admitted to being a monster or if it was because she was still attracted to him.
She cleared her throat and changed the subject. “How long do you think the storm will last?”
“No idea,” he said.
She tried to hide her sudden frustration. “Could you try to be a little more specific?”
“I’m not a fucking weatherman,” he said, “and it’s not like I can just check the internet. We’re lucky we still have power and don’t have to run the generator.”
She stood and stalked to the kitchen, scrubbing at the pan as he followed her. “Just leave it. I’ll wash the damn pan.”
She ignored him, and he sighed with annoyance. “I’ve got an SUV with heavy duty snow tires under a tarp next to the cabin. When the storm ends, I’ll take you down the mountain to town. Once we’re there, you’re on your own. We go our separate ways.”
“Fine by me,” she said. She placed the pan in the dish rack and dried her hands before heading toward the hallway.
“You know you can’t go back to your old life, right?” Clay’s voice was deceptively casual.
She stopped but didn’t turn around. “I know. I have a sister I can go to.”
“Granger will be looking for you. If you go to your sister, you’ll put her in danger as well.”
Feeling sick to her stomach, Emerson didn’t reply. Instead, she walked into Owen’s room and shut the door, leaning against it and closing her eyes.