Beast in Me (The Divination Falls Trilogy) (5 page)

Chapter Eight

‘We’ll have to drive,’ the sheriff said. ‘Unless you’re up for a super hike. We have a few to hit and then the one that just happened.’ The sheriff led them out of the woods and back over the church property. Father Finn was sweeping the walk and gave them a wave.

‘Be careful out there!’ he called. ‘I’ve said a prayer for you. May the Virgin Mary watch over you.’

In the cruiser, Cameron buckled up. ‘Does he really believe all that stuff?’ he grunted. Organised religion had never served him. Being a freak in the eyes of most and gay to boot did not make a welcoming experience with most organised religions.

‘Everyone has to believe in something,’ Eliot said. ‘Finn is the most non-judgmental man I know. He has his beliefs and is perfectly happy to let you have yours. More than I can say for most humans.’ She snorted. ‘And I am human.’

Cameron nodded. ‘Touché.’

He watched the pretty little town flit by as Slaughter drove them. Everyone stopped to wave as they passed. It was like freaking Mayberry, Cameron thought, but with lions and bears and jackals. He resisted the urge to mutter “oh my!” ‘Where did this first attack happen?’

‘Marjorie Ann England’s antique store, two doors down from the tavern.’

‘What happened?’

Slaughter put the car in gear and cut the engine. He looked over the back of his seat. ‘Why don’t we let her tell you?’

‘It was the darnedest thing,’ Marjorie Ann England said, pouring tea for everyone. She seemed very excited by the company. It made Cameron feel almost sorry for her, considering how he understood the feeling. The craving for contact. What was she? he wondered.

‘An owl,’ Eliot said, not looking at him.

‘Oh my yes. I am,’ Marjorie said to Cameron. ‘And you …’ She tilted her head back and her eyes slid shut slowly, just as he’d seen owls do in nature shows. It was a little freaky and entirely cool. ‘Are not a shifter.’

‘No. I am –’

She listened. ‘Electric. I can hear it sizzling and popping on you. See it if I squint.’ She turned insanely hazel coloured eyes his way and smiled. ‘Now! As I was saying, it was the darnedest thing.’

He inclined his head as Slaughter suppressed a laugh. Eliot grinned at him and then turned her attention to the old woman.

‘I was in here rearranging the collectable salt and pepper shakers when it happened. I heard the rumble. It was the first one, you know. Barely a tickle in the earth, but I knew that something had happened. And then I heard that –’ she twirled one wrinkled hand in the air and Cameron found himself wondering how old she was
‘– slithery dry sound. See, people always think snakes and lizards and tentacled things, I guess, are rather wet. Slimy, I suppose. But they’re actually quite dry. Well, maybe not the tentacle things because they’re usually in water, aren’t they?’ she chirped. She took a sip of tea, pinkie extended. Then she snapped a cookie in half and nibbled at it daintily. When Cameron glanced away, in his peripheral vision, he caught her gobble back the whole thing in one swift motion.

Eliot chuckled and he forced himself not to laugh. Clearly Marjorie Ann wouldn’t have waited for him to look away unless it embarrassed her. Cameron pretended not to notice and was rewarded with a swift and vivid vision of Trace pinning him to that tree, his hand moving up and down hypnotically until Cameron lost himself and surrendered to that peak of pleasure. Arousal curled in his belly and no matter how the wolf had acted, he wanted to get him alone again. Plead his case on how well they had connected. Hell, the fact that they had connected without the frying of said wolf was a blessed miracle all in itself.

Eliot cleared her throat and snapped him back to focus. She smiled at him and Cameron felt his face grow hot. ‘So you heard a …
dry
sound?’

‘Yes, very much so,’ Marjorie Ann said. ‘Like the sound of a calloused palm on a stockinged leg.’

‘Marjorie Ann, that’s quite a description.’ Slaughter laughed.

‘Oh, I read those racy books sometimes.’ She winked. ‘I suppose that’s where I got the image from. But you know what I mean. It was that kind of sound. And I hurried back through the store to make sure I was the only one here. I was 100 per cent certain I was, but I am getting older. I wanted to check myself.’

‘And?’ Cameron asked.

And what kind of accident did the wolf blame himself for? What could have happened to have kept him celibate for so many, many years?

Eliot coughed politely and he focused his attention. It was sort of odd having her basically in his head. She was picking up on his emotions and redirecting him to the present. This must be important, because she seemed very respectful of others’ privacy.

‘And it was in the back,’ Marjorie Ann was saying. ‘Tentacles. The colour of a pumice stone. Isn’t that strange that’s what came into my head?’

Eliot stirred her tea with her ever-present cinnamon stick and winked at him. Cameron smiled, doing his best to focus. Maybe Eliot could tell him what was up with Trace …

She shook her head and set the cinnamon stick on the tea tray for a moment. Cam glanced around the room and, when he did, he caught it again in his peripheral, the flash of Marjorie Ann claiming the stick and gulping it down in one quick motion.

He wanted to gasp, but crushed that urge. He’d have to remember not to set anything important down before looking away. ‘That must have scared you,’ he said, before turning back to look at his hostess.

She smiled, blinking slowly. ‘At first, yes. I had armed myself with a ski pole. Thank goodness it had been close. But even as I tried to figure out where it was coming from, it was disappearing. First it became transparent – almost – then it receded. And poof!’ She shrugged her narrow shoulders and coughed gently.

Jesus, no wonder she’s coughing, he thought. She just ate a stick.

Cameron looked at Slaughter, who was smirking too. ‘This was the first one?’ he asked the sheriff.

Slaughter nodded. ‘As far as we know. No one else reported.’

‘Have you seen it since?’ Cam asked Marjorie Ann.

‘No sir. I have not.’ Another soft cough and she sipped her tea.

‘Ready for the next?’ Eliot asked.

‘Not really.’ He laughed.

Slaughter’s radio went off and he excused himself to take the call. Marjorie Ann showed them around briefly – the store and the store room where the tentacle had been. It looked like a store room now. No cracks, no weak spots, no spooky waving monster appendages. Eliot purchased an antique hook for her house and then they thanked Marjorie Ann for the tea and company and walked outside to find the sheriff.

‘I have to drop y’all off for a bit,’ he said.

‘Why, Sam?’ Eliot asked, touching his arm. ‘What happened?’

Cameron watched the big man’s face colour bright red when she touched him. Did she really have no clue?

‘The Moore twins up the road are at it again. I have to go break it up. Most likely they’re brewing moonshine and have been –’

‘Sampling the wares,’ Eliot snorted.

‘Yes.’

He drove them both to the church and Eliot walked home from there. ‘I’ll try and come back around lunch time or so. We’ll go to the next spot,’ Slaughter called as the cruiser rolled off.

Cam waved and headed inside. He felt like he could sleep for a year for some reason. It had been a lot of day in a very short time. He walked through the cool underground hallway. Something was soothing about being underground; he had no idea what, other than rock was old and rock soothed him. Grounded him.

He shuffled into his room and turned the TV on just for noise. The bed called to him and even though he’d only been up for a few hours, he fell onto it joyfully. Excellent.

Cam put his second pillow over his head, enveloping himself in darkness. His eyes burned from being tired, his mind was abuzz with exhaustion. He’d been railroaded at breakfast, felt up in the woods, and watched an owl in woman form eat a stick of cinnamon. It had definitely been chaos all day, and it wasn’t done.

‘Sleeping Beauty,’ came a voice. Not just a voice.
His
voice.

Cameron pulled the pillow to the side and peeked out. ‘Hardly.’ He wanted to sound all quick-witted and clever. Instead, to himself, he sounded like a cartoon character who’d been sucking helium.

Trace smiled, and the wolf in him showed through. Cam felt all he could focus on were those teeth. That mouth. That smile.

He walked in and shut the door with his foot. ‘I’m on my lunch break.’

‘Already?’

The wolf shrugged. ‘I eat often and I eat early and, to be honest, I have no actual schedule. I do what needs to be done whenever it needs to be done. Morning, noon, or night.’

‘And now?’ Cameron breathed.

‘Something needs to be done.’

‘What did you do? What are you carrying around?’ Cameron blurted it all out, taking a chance. He wanted what happened with them earlier to happen again. He wanted stuff beyond that to happen, maybe. He hadn’t wanted that – not really – for a long time. But he also wanted to know what this man was carrying around. For some unknown reason, it mattered.

Trace frowned, ran a hand through his dark hair, and eyed the door like he might run. ‘It’s not important.’

‘But it is,’ Cam countered.

‘Look, little boy, there’s a beast in me, remember?’ Trace growled. He took a step forward and then seemed to regret the aggressive move.

‘There’s one in me too, remember?’ Cam replied. ‘It can knock a man off his feet, melt his shoes, stop his heart.’

Trace grinned. ‘Maybe that’s why I seem to like you so much, Lightning Boy. I’ve always liked playing with fire, so to speak.’

‘What happened?’ Cameron asked, sitting up but not moving off the bed.

‘Can’t we just … fuck?’

‘You said no to that earlier, remember?’

‘I’ve reconsidered.’

‘What is it?’ Cam asked. He was never this stubborn.

‘I killed my mate. Happy now?’ Trace’s voice was all anger but his face was all hurt and regret. Cameron felt his heart break for the man.

‘Of course not. But there’s more. There has to be.’

‘I was sick. A sickness that only hits wolves. It comes with a nice raging fever of about 108 or so. And it melts your brain and fucks with your perception and … I was out of my mind. And I killed him. I hallucinated he was coming after me, trying to kill me, so I …’

‘Jesus.’

‘Exactly,’ Trace said. ‘Look, never mind. I’m sorry I bothered you. This was a shitty idea.’ He turned toward the door he’d just kicked shut.

Cameron’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth and his heart thundered, but he managed to get it out in time. ‘Please don’t go. Trace … Please?’

There was anger on his face when he turned toward Cameron. ‘Why? More wounds you want to pick at?’

Cameron blinked. He wanted to say something but had no idea what it should be. The remark was valid. What gave him the right to pry at someone’s pain? One shared handjob and a few kisses? He shook his head; nothing seemed to cover how bad he felt.

Trace sighed and cocked his fist like he was going to ram in through the plaster wall. He almost did, but at the last moment thought better of it and diverted the blow to his own thigh. Then he laughed. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I said that. I’m sorry I assumed you’d be up for a no strings attached rough and tumble. I’m sorry I just had a temper tantrum like the world’s largest two-year-old. This is a day full of sorry, I guess.’

Cam watched him, still unsure of what, if anything, he could say at the moment. The man’s pain was all his doing. He’d asked questions he had no right to and brought up hurt he didn’t have to experience.

‘You ever have someone who just fucking
got
you? Understood you and didn’t question you? Made you feel like you were worth something?’

Cameron nodded. ‘My grandmother. She saved me more than once from losing my shit.’ He smiled.

Trace barked out a laugh. ‘Well, that was Anthony for me. He understood me. He wasn’t a wolf or a shifter. He wasn’t anything, he said – but he was. He was an energy worker. He could manipulate your energy. Clear you. Make you go from bogged down to light as a feather. It was a real gift.’

Cameron nodded, but kept his mouth shut. He needed to listen here. He’d opened the door; he had to witness all that walked through.

Trace ran a slightly shaking hand through his hair. ‘He was trying to heal me when I attacked him. I thought he was trying to hurt me. No one was there. My parents were out of my life. No other shifter was near to warn him or to help me. It was me and him and I …’ He pushed his back to the wall, his fingers curling to the textured plaster. ‘I killed him.’ He cocked his head, closed his eyes. ‘And why am I telling you this?’

Cameron shrugged. ‘Because I want to know. And Trace … you didn’t know.’

‘Don’t make excuses for what I did. For me.’

‘But it wasn’t your fault.’

Trace’s voice came down to a growl. In that expulsion of sound Cam could hear the animal in him very clearly. ‘Don’t forgive me my sin. It’s not your fucking place.’

‘I know. But it’s how I feel. Just me. Doesn’t matter at all to you, but it’s what I think,’ Cameron said. ‘It needed to be said.’

For the second time, Trace looked like he wanted to hit him and Cameron almost wished he would. ‘I’m leaving now. Sorry again.’

‘Please don’t,’ Cameron said swiftly. His impulse, no matter how insane or ill-conceived, was to protect and soothe this man. There was a connection here. Maybe it was simply that he wasn’t afraid of killing Trace, but he felt that wasn’t the answer. That was a very small sliver of a very big whole. He was drawn to Trace and he wanted to help.

‘Look, you’re a nice guy, but I’m a really fucking bad idea. Especially for nice guys.’

‘Please. Stay.’ Cameron did the only thing he could think of. He followed his heart. He dropped to his knees and reached for the wolf.

Chapter Nine

‘Get up,’ Trace growled.

Not the response that Cam had been hoping for. He shuffled forward on his knees but Trace made no move to get closer. He didn’t withdraw but he didn’t exactly make it easy.

‘Get up!’ he roared at Cam.

‘No!’ Cameron yelled. When Trace blinked at him, startled, he said, ‘See, I can yell too. And it doesn’t change the fact that this is what I want to do. I really want to do it. And I want you to want me.’

Trace almost smiled but Cameron watched him push the instinct down. ‘You think I don’t want a blowjob from a pretty electric boy? Do you think I’m insane?’

‘A little.’

He did laugh then, and Cameron felt a burst of joy in his chest. ‘Touché. The point is, I don’t want your fucking pity.’

‘I didn’t pity you out in the woods. I wanted you then. I don’t pity you now. I feel bad. I’m sorry I poked. But I do not, under any circumstance, consider my attraction to you pity.’

‘You’re very wordy.’ Trace sighed.

‘There is a way you could shut me up.’

‘Do tell.’ Those intense purple eyes travelled over him, curious.

‘I couldn’t talk if my mouth was full.’

Animal shine flared in Trace’s eyes and, this time, when he growled, the hair on Cameron’s arms stood up and tingled. His cock was so hard it was damn near painful. Would Trace let him? He still wasn’t sure.

Until he unzipped his work pants.

‘Aren’t you afraid of me?’ Trace asked, taking one big step forward. Not close enough for Cam to actually get to him, but close enough that he could feel the heat baking off the shifter.

‘A little,’ Cameron said, scooting closer on his knees.

‘Good,’ Trace said, closing the gap. He threaded his thick fingers in Cameron’s hair and tilted his head back so the weather worker was forced to look at him. ‘Because I’m fucking terrified of you.’

‘What? Why?’

Trace shook his head. ‘Let’s see about filling that mouth.’

The first taste of his skin was bliss to Cameron. He was salty and wild and the taste made Cam think of the beach on an overcast day. The salt and wind and drizzle feel of a grey day graced his lips. He sucked slowly, wanting to give as much pleasure as he could. Some goodness to cancel out the pain his off-the-cuff questions had caused.

‘Jesus. It’s been a long, long time, Cameron. Don’t expect a porn star performance from me.’

It had been just as long for him but he didn’t say that as he dragged the tip of his tongue up the back of Trace’s cock. His skin was soft; his pubic hair was even softer than the norm. It was … silken. Almost like fur. And Cameron couldn’t help but run his fingertips over it as he slid his mouth up and down the wolf’s thick shaft.

Excitement lit in his belly when Trace grabbed his hair a tad harder and actually thrust into his mouth. Giving this man something to make him feel good was beyond words for Cam. He wanted Trace to forget his pain for even just a few minutes. To stop blaming and hating himself and just let go. Cam knew what pain was like – that kind of pain that said you weren’t good enough or even just plain wrong. It was all-consuming and it hurt beyond any physical blow.

His fingers slid along the jut of Trace’s hipbones and then Cam slid his hands to cup Trace’s ass. Every time he felt the muscles grow taut with the wolf’s thrusting, excitement and pleasure curled in Cam’s gut. He wanted so badly to come, but this was all about Trace and that was how he wanted it.

They weren’t ready to fuck – maybe they never would be. But there was this – right now – and that was fine by him.

‘Lightning Boy.’ Trace chuckled, and the sound made Cameron smile. The laugh was real. It was good. Trace jerked against him three times, driving hard into his willing throat, and when he came, Cameron gasped with the rush of salty warmth that flooded his mouth. He did his best and then licked what he could from Trace’s shaft. He rested his head on Trace’s belly and just enjoyed feeling the man pet his hair.

‘Stand up, Cameron,’ Trace said and held out his hand.

Cameron took it and stood, and when he was told to take his pants off, he did that too.

‘Turn around,’ the wolf said, and Cameron felt his skin pebble like he was standing nude in a cool wind. Trace’s voice was cold but the heat that baked off him was intense. He was a walking, talking oxymoron. A glorious paradox.

When Cameron turned, the wolf stepped up close behind him. Trace’s heart was beating rapidly; Cameron could feel it banging against his back. More heat seeped into his tight muscles, making him shiver. Were all shifters this hot?

‘I’m not going to fuck you yet. We’re just getting the hang of each other, what with all the drama and
sharing
.’ Trace pressed his mouth to the back of Cameron’s neck and his teeth grazed the skin, making Cameron whimper before he realised the sound was even in him to make.

‘OK,’ was the only thing Cameron could think to say and he felt stupid when he said it.

Trace laughed deeply – it was a relaxed sound, a joyous sound. It made anything that was about to happen amazing as far as Cam was concerned. Even if it was just some teasing and a kiss.

Trace wrapped his arm – bulky from manual labour – around Cameron’s middle. He was strong and when he tightened the embrace air slipped from Cameron, making him lightheaded. The wolf’s other arm came around and that big fist wrapped around Cameron’s cock. His hard-on was like a lead pipe and he half laughed, half sobbed when their skin made contact.

‘You were very good just now. You have an amazing mouth,’ Trace said. Cameron nodded but kept silent as the bigger man’s hand began to move. He relished, more than the intimate contact of hand on dick, the feel of that big arm looped around his middle, holding him close. He dared feel secure for just a minute. And it had been a very long time.

‘Thank you,’ he said, feeling like an idiot and not caring one iota.

‘We’re going to revisit that again. But not right now. They’re coming for you. A car’s on its way up the drive.’ Those teeth latched onto the slope of Cameron’s shoulder. That tender place where neck met shoulder and about a million nerve endings lived.

Trace increased the pressure and those sharp teeth scraped Cameron’s skin. His over-sensitised, insanely stimulated skin. Trace tightened his grip around Cam’s waist and bit down just a bit harder, grinding his hard-again cock against the crack of Cam’s ass. So, when he finally increased his pressure and pumped Cam’s cock a bit faster and squeezed just a bit harder, Cameron came undone. Going off like a firework on a hot summer night. Considering he’d just come a few hours before, the force was shocking, and so, so good. His legs felt weak with it, his stomach light with it, his brain buzzing with it.

Trace kissed his ear with a hearty smack and gave him a good squeeze.

‘They’re almost here. Find me later, maybe we can eat dinner together. Or watch a movie. Or fucking quilt something. Jesus, listen to me being such a –’

‘Nice guy,’ Cameron said, putting a finger to the wolf’s lips before he could tear himself down and doubt his happiness. It might be fleeting, but he deserved for it to last. ‘I’ll find you. Maybe you can show me around the place and I can pick your brain.’

Traced cocked his head and studied Cam with those mystical purple eyes of his. ‘Okaaaaaay.’

‘With permission this time,’ Cam added, and zipped up his pants.