CHAPTER TWELVE

Jaycee’s eyes popped open as Dimitri burst into her bedroom, its door banging into the wall.

“Jase!” he shouted. “You all right?”

Jaycee struggled up. Dimitri stood next to her bed, moonlight shining fully on him, though she could have sworn she closed the blinds. The white glow outlined his body and red hair and shadowed the minute pair of briefs that hugged his hips.

Jaycee raked her hair back from her face, holding it in place with her hand, and looked pointedly at the briefs. “If those were any smaller, could they still be called underwear?”

“What?” Dimitri blinked down at himself. His abdominal muscles rippled as he did so, then he straightened, stretching his equally impressive shoulders. “Screw that. I heard you screaming. I th-thought—”

He looked around at the quiet room, his big hands balling to fists.

“You thought what?” Jaycee raised her brows. “I didn’t scream. You must have been dreaming.”

“No . . .” Dimitri continued scanning the room as though he expected something to jump out of the closet. “Sure you’re okay?”

“Yes.” Jaycee looked him up and down. “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Dimitri’s balled fists came up and he jammed his arms over his chest. “N-no. This house is fucking weird. Furniture moving all over the p-place. S-screaming . . .”

“I didn’t hear anything. Are you positive you weren’t dreaming?”

“I damn well wasn’t.” Dimitri growled at her. “S-someone’s messing with us.”

“The house is haunted. Jazz told me all about it.” Jaycee gave him a look under her falling hair. “You scared?”

“Of what?” Dimitri said in defiance. “I th-thought you were s-scared. Or h-hurt.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Dimitri remained planted in the middle of the room. The house was silent, refreshingly so, private and secure, not like Brice’s place with Shifters crawling all over it. Jazz had confessed to Jaycee that she loved her house, where she’d lived happy years with her grandmother. She’d felt protected there.

Jaycee understood. The house was a little strange, but after her initial uneasiness it had ceased to frighten her. Dimitri, on the other hand, looked haggard, as though he viewed going back across the hall to his room with the same enthusiasm he would jumping into an active volcano. Dimitri was fearless in the fighting ring, but a few doors opened and shut on their own and his face was gray, and not because of the moonlight.

Jaycee flipped back the covers, letting in cool air. “You want to sleep with me? Just sleeping, I mean.”

For once, Dimitri made no jokes. He was around the bed and slipping under the covers before Jaycee finished saying the words.

She had to admit that Dimitri snuggling down beside her, she spooning back into him, was nice. Dimitri warmed the bed—and took up most of it, but Jaycee didn’t mind.

He settled the covers, then draped a heavy arm over her. “Your hair s-smells nice,” he murmured.

“Aw,” Jaycee said. “Good shampoo.”

“Shut up and take a compliment,” Dimitri said without a stammer.

“Sorry.” Jaycee told herself she shouldn’t tease him all the time, but it was difficult not to.

Dimitri burrowed his nose into her neck. “I’m j-just going to enjoy this.”

“No sex,” Jaycee warned.

“D-did I say anything about s-sex?” Dimitri asked indignantly. “I’m not even t-touching any intimate parts.”

“But you’re thinking about it. Like I said, that underwear is really small.”

Dimitri chuckled, a warm rumble in the night. “Sweetie, I’ll l-leave you alone tonight, but I c-can’t promise not to think about it. I’m only so strong.”

Jaycee was thinking about it too, that was the trouble. She went over the passionate encounters they’d had—the first one right after their Transitions when they’d been burning with hormones. It had been messy, awkward, and embarrassing.

The last time had been in Kendrick’s house, when Kendrick and Addie had mated. A leader mating was powerful magic, which had permeated the entire Shifter group. Dimitri had come to check on Jaycee, as he had tonight, and they’d made hard, swift love to each other.

“You’re plenty strong,” Jaycee whispered.

“Not about you I’m n-not,” Dimitri said, his voice low. “Now b-be quiet and let me hold you.”

Jaycee closed her mouth. Dimitri’s body was heavy behind her, his arm solidly around her waist. The house made Jaycee feel secure, and with Dimitri around her she’d never felt so safe in her life.

To moonlight, and Dimitri’s snore, Jaycee drifted to sleep.

*   *   *

She woke to music. A radio played loudly somewhere in the house, and sunshine poured through her bedroom window. It would be hot today, New Orleans sticky in August.

Dimitri was gone. Jaycee tamped down the cool wave of disappointment, rolled out of bed, and pulled a pair of running shorts from her duffel bag. She knew the bathroom down the hall was stocked with thick towels, waiting for her, and she dragged on the shorts and headed out of her room.

The door across the hall was open. Music blasted from it, along with Dimitri’s voice. Apparently, he’d forgiven the house or his dreams for waking him up—he was in the middle of the room in nothing but a low-slung pair of jeans, his back to the door, singing at the top of his lungs.

Dancing too. His hips moved in time with the music, his voice rising to a falsetto to hit high notes. Jaycee didn’t know what the song was, but the word baby featured in it a lot.

Jaycee leaned on the doorframe and watched. Dimitri was what she’d call aesthetically pleasing. His supple and strong back tapered to his very tight backside, which was cupped by the jeans, emphasizing his long legs and powerful build. She wondered if he’d put on a fresh pair of tiny underwear that morning, or maybe had left them off entirely.

Heat stirred inside her, building what had already been smoldering. She didn’t need to stick her hand into a brazier to feel fire—she only had to look at Dimitri.

He must have showered while she slept, because his hair was damp, dark with water. A few beads of moisture lingered on his shoulders and his upper back. He leaned his head back at one point, shaking it, sending droplets flying. Jaycee laughed.

Dimitri spun around. He saw Jaycee, but instead of being abashed, he held out his hands and danced his way toward her, singing the whole way. He didn’t stutter when he sang—he never had.

His voice wasn’t true but Jaycee didn’t care. He was singing for joy and being alive, for the sunshine and warmth. For Jaycee.

Dimitri caught her hands and spun her into the dance. Unlike when he’d danced with her at the roadhouse, he didn’t pull her close or use it as an excuse to kiss her. He moved swiftly in a swinglike dance, shoving Jaycee away and pulling her back toward him, never letting her be off-balance.

He danced with the grace of his wolf, not missing a step. He guided the two of them around the room, pulling Jaycee out of the way of the massive furniture. The chandelier above them swayed in time with the music, as though the house danced with them.

As the song wound to its climax, Dimitri gathered Jaycee and spun with her in the middle of the room, pelvis to pelvis. His strong arms wound around her back, and at the song’s last chord, he lowered her into a dramatic dip.

The DJ yelled, “Good morning, New Orleans!” and went on blathering about something or other.

Dimitri held Jaycee in his arms, still in the dip, his gray eyes on her. His face softened as he looked down at her, the corners of his mouth flattening. Jaycee hung there, knowing he’d never drop her, wanting the moment to hover forever.

Dimitri breathed hard with his dancing, his bare chest expanding. He had such strength, but it didn’t make him arrogant. He barely acknowledged how strong he was, as though he didn’t notice.

Jaycee needed his strength. She always had. And it had been there for her to reach out and touch.

She touched him now. Jaycee traced the curve of his pectorals, fingertips catching in the curls of damp red hair.

Dimitri abruptly raised her and set her on her feet, and Jaycee’s hand fell away. Dimitri stood looking down at her for a long moment, and then he put his hand behind her neck and drew her up for a kiss.

A deep, breath-stealing kiss. Jaycee tasted the mouthwash he’d used and the spice of himself. Then Dimitri was gone, moving away in time to the next song, snatching up a shirt as he went.

“There’s plenty of f-food in the kitchen,” he said. “W-want breakfast?”

Jaycee could only stand in place, her lips tingling, her heart banging in her throat. “You cooking?”

“S-sure. Have a sh-shower and c-come on in.”

Dimitri swayed past her, still dancing. He caught her again, pressed another heart-pounding kiss to her mouth, and danced out. She heard his laughter as he ran the hall, which sounded very close to a wolf howl.

*   *   *

“Why are you so happy this morning?” Jaycee asked half an hour later. She entered the kitchen after showering and dressing to find Dimitri juggling eggs, the ovals going up and up and up.

He faked almost dropping one, then laughed at Jaycee when she cried out, and broke the eggs into a bowl. He swished the yolks and whites together and poured them into a pan.

“Am I happy?” Dimitri asked as he rotated the pan, spreading eggs to all sides. Good, he was making omelets. “I’m b-being me.”

Jaycee sat down at the table to watch him cook. The kitchen, on the second floor, was large, with stainless steel appliances and light wood, very modern. Obviously the kitchen was for the inhabitants of the house, not the tourists. Except for the ceiling beams and the wide window looking out to the sweeping front drive, there was nothing in here original to the house.

Downstairs, the house was exactly as it had been in seventeen hundred something-or-other. Humans loved to preserve the past, Jaycee noticed, and romanticize what had gone. Chances were the past had been no better or worse than the present—the human brain glossed over horror and hardship and revived what it wanted to glorify. Shifters who remembered the times humans glamorized thought they were nuts. A hundred years ago technology might have been simpler, but wars were brutal, a flu virus could wipe out a good percentage of the population, and only a privileged few lived in any comfort.

Shifter past had been even worse—they’d had to hide in remote parts of the world and keep humans from killing them. Many Shifters had begun to starve and fewer cubs had been born. Shiftertowns had saved Shifters from being killed outright and had also helped Shifters live in peace, have cubs, and get on with life. Kendrick had created his own “Shiftertown” for the same reasons, only without the Collars and human oversight.

“So, what do we do now?” she asked. “Go back to Brice? Report in to Kendrick?”

“I already reported,” Dimitri said. “While you were in the shower. K-Kendrick says to look around a little longer, return to the club where we met Casey, check out Brice. We didn’t find any s-sign of Shifters ready to do violence against other Shifters at Brice’s h-house, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.”

“Or maybe Kendrick sent us out here for a different reason.” As Jaycee showered, she’d thought over the events from her disruption at the fight club to meeting Brice at his odd party. “To get us out of the way while he and Dylan go after another target?”

Dimitri turned around, spatula in hand. “Why the hell would they? We’re Kendrick’s top t-trackers, except for Seamus. If there was something d-dangerous going on around Austin, Kendrick would n-need us.”

“But we’re troublemakers, remember?” Jaycee idly picked up a knife and used its handle to trace a pattern on the placemat in front of her. “At least I am.”

Dimitri swung back to the stove, lifted the omelet pan, and flipped the eggs with a flick of his wrist. The omelet folded in on itself perfectly, and Dimitri slid it to a plate. Jaycee rose and went to the stove for it.

“You’re dreaming,” Dimitri said, holding the plate out to Jaycee. He didn’t release it when she tried to take it. “Kendrick has known you a l-long time. You break rules you don’t l-like but they’re usually ones Kendrick thinks are s-stupid anyway. Plus, he’s not going to throw away his best trackers on a wild-g-goose chase.”

Jaycee tugged at the plate, but for some reason Dimitri wouldn’t let go. “Or maybe he’s keeping Dylan off his back.”

“C-could be.” Dimitri finally released the plate, and Jaycee had to take a step back to catch her balance. “S-send us out to make it look like he’s t-taking the threat seriously.” He frowned. “Nah, Kendrick would t-tell Dylan to stick it if he didn’t agree with him.”

Dimitri was most likely right, but the Shifters at Brice’s had been happy, not worried or constrained. They hadn’t been plotting, only hanging out, going through a Goddess ritual, or pairing up. Nothing that didn’t happen at any Shifter party. And yet . . .

“Something weird is going on with Brice, I will agree,” Jaycee said. “I didn’t have a chance to tell you, but remember the guy, Ben, who helped us take down Kendrick’s old partner? I swear I saw him at Brice’s last night.”

“You did see me,” came a deep voice from the kitchen door.

Jaycee shrieked and leapt into the air. The plate with her omelet spun like a Frisbee, and the perfectly made eggs swirled off and splattered all over the floor.