Melted By The Lion: A Paranormal Lion Shifter Romance (11 page)

He was sitting at my feet, gnawing on a rawhide bone while I was eating a late breakfast at the table in the casual kitchen, when Veronica strolled in and actually spoke to me, a thing that had become very unusual in the past few weeks.

“Well,
he’s
in a mood today.”

I swallowed a bite of scrambled egg, uncertain if she really wanted me to respond to her. “Trevor?”

“Yes.”

Again, I hesitated, wondering if she really wanted me to respond. Wondering if
I
really wanted to respond. But ultimately, curiosity got the better of me.

“Well, what’s his problem?”

It certainly couldn’t be lack of sex,
I thought.

Veronica pulled a mug from the cupboard and set it on the gray marble-topped counter with a thunk that bordered on a bang. “I don’t know what his damned problem is. He was all raking his hand through his hair last night how he does, then raking his hand through his hair today, all stressed out, trying to decide if he wants to start some project or other.”

“What kind of project?”

Though I didn’t want to be, I was kind of getting intrigued.

Veronica scoffed. “How should I know? I didn’t ask very many questions, because I really don’t care. Probably some dumb fence around the town to keep the gators out or something.”

“You really think he thinks a fence would keep them out?”

“I didn’t say that
was
whatever his project is; it was just a guess, based on some of the things he said when he was kind of talking to himself, writing up some blueprints for the project or whatever.”

“Well, what kinds of things did he say to himself?”

Veronica scoffed again, filling her mug with coffee. “I don’t know. Once he said, ‘I don’t have time for this shit,’ and I tried to tease him for swearing, but he was so into his dumb blueprints, he acted like he didn’t even hear me. And then another time, he was all hair-raking, trying to sketch something onto the blueprints or something, and he said, ‘This is me making a mistake; I just know it.’ As if he already fully realizes that the gators will be able to knock down any wall or fence he builds. That’s
why
I got the idea that he might be planning a fence. I think it’ll be a complete fail, too, though. If those gator shifters are strong enough to flip an export truck, which they’ve proven they are, I’m sure they’ll be able to crash through any fence like it’s nothing. So, in my opinion, Trevor should start spending less time debating whether or not to do stupid little projects, and more time trying to get me pregnant. Not like we haven’t been spending a ton of time on that already.” Veronica paused just long enough to give me a little smirk. “Maybe you heard us, before you moved downstairs?”

Telling myself I’d been an idiot for allowing myself to get pulled into a conversation with her, I left the kitchen without another word, Rascal on my heels.

A couple of days passed. Trevor started his mystery project, starting some kind of construction in the forest land directly behind the house. He forbade anyone but the men working with him to enter the area, and he even had guards posted to make sure that no one would defy his orders and try to take a peek at whatever he was building. Around the construction site, the trees were too thick for anyone to see anything at a distance. Bridget and I had to start entering the part of the forest where the stray dogs and cats liked to congregate by taking a trail that started in town and went north.

A couple of weeks after Trevor had started his mysterious project, Veronica began speculating that Trevor was building some kind of a super weapon to use against the gators. I tried not to think about, care about, or speculate about what Trevor was building. It didn’t concern me. It was his business.

I’d told Bridget that Veronica and Trevor had slept together, but that I really, really didn’t want to talk about it. She’d respected that and hadn’t pushed, but in in the weeks after, I often caught her giving me concerned little looks, and she often asked if I was okay. I always said yes and then busied myself with whatever task I was doing at the time, usually something with the animals.

But one day, while Bridget and I were enjoying frozen lemonade sitting at one of the red umbrella-topped tables outside the little cafe, I really didn’t have much to busy myself with when she said she wanted to talk to me, the look in her eyes telling me what about.

Sighing, I began twisting my straw wrapper, avoiding her eyes. “Look, I appreciate your concern, but as always, I’m honestly fine. And I don’t need to talk; what I
really
need to be doing is finishing this lemonade so we can go check out that vacant house behind the hospital. I really think it might be the perfect place for me and all the animals to move into.”

“Savannah, just listen.”

“It’s got two fairly big bedrooms, one for dog beds and one for the cats, and any day now, I expect Veronica to announce she’s pregnant. And then Trevor won’t care if I move, not that he probably gives a damn right now. But at least now I can tell him I’ve done as he asked—I’ve stayed in the house a while, and even though I guess I’m not following through with what I’d said I do when I was frozen—”

“Savannah, please. If you don’t want to talk about how you really feel, when I see all those sad looks in your eyes on a daily basis, then just listen. I want to tell you something. It’s what I was really going to tell you the very first day we were sitting at this table together, but I decided not to, because I thought it wasn’t my thing to tell, so instead, I told you what shifters are like in the bedroom, which all was and is absolutely true, but I just chose that particular time to tell you, because like I said, I thought that what I’d
really
been going to say wasn’t my thing to tell, and it probably still isn’t, but, I’m your friend. And I just feel like
someone
should tell you. Someone should try to help you understand Trevor a little better before you completely throw in the towel.
I
even thought that if given enough time,
he
might tell you himself, but…”

I finally looked up from my straw wrapper, pulse accelerating a bit. “Well, what is it?”

Now it was Bridget’s turn to cast her gaze dawn to the table, and she took a deep breath before speaking. “This is kind of a widely-known thing in town, though it’s hardly ever spoken about, even by the gossips. I only know because Aaron told me.” She took another deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “Back when the nation was first established, and the town was first being settled, Trevor had a girlfriend. Rachel. She was a young woman who’d been found fertile, even though she wasn’t a frozen woman. And I don’t know if it was marriage-level serious yet; Aaron described the relationship as still being pretty new. But Trevor and Rachel did seem to have fallen in love, and it seemed that their relationship was definitely heading somewhere. Well, like I said, the nation was brand-new, and the town was still being settled. The Renard clan was a huge, huge problem. Daily battles with them—dozens of our lions and people killed—but after a short while, it seemed that Trevor had gotten the upper hand, and had gotten things mostly under control. Thinking it was now safe enough to do so, Rachel took a walk one day through the woods to the north, and she was attacked by a group of six gators from the Renard clan. Trevor, who’d gone out looking for her, tracking her by scent, came upon the attack, but it was too late. Several of the gators were able to pin him down for a few seconds while the others killed Rachel just feet away. They bit her throat out.”

A man and a woman holding hands strolled by our table, heading down the sidewalk, and Bridget waited until they’d passed before continuing, her gaze still cast downward to the table.

“Aaron arrived on the scene about this time, and found Trevor in some sort of an absolute frenzy, literally ripping the gators to shreds. Trevor even slammed Aaron into a tree when Aaron tried to help kill one of the gators. Trevor wanted to kill them all himself, and he did. After, he shifted into human form, and Aaron said he just calmly looked around for a while, like he’d just woken up from some dream, or was in some kind of serious shock. Then, he sat down by a tree and just as calmly explained to Aaron what had happened, in a quiet, mechanical sort of way that Aaron said made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. After that, Trevor picked up Rachel and carried her back to where the mansion stands today, but at the time was just a temporary, much smaller house. He washed her, wrapped her throat with a white cloth, and wrapped her in a sheet, then carried her to her parents’ house, where she still lived. Then he went deep into the eastern woods, where he stayed for two weeks, not communicating with anyone. Aaron couldn’t even find him, and toward the end, people started to think that maybe a new commander-in-chief should be chosen. But then, Trevor returned. He wouldn’t speak about what had happened, and Aaron said he was changed. More stern as a leader, even more protective than he had been, and cold as ice with women. And that’s why he’s behaved around you the way he has.”

I’d been silently crying for at least a minute, tears streaming down my cheeks, and I now wiped them away. “I want to go back to the mansion. I need to see him.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

After keeping her gaze on the table nearly the entire time she’d been telling me all that she had, Bridget finally looked up, meeting my eyes. “Just be prepared. Once Trevor knows you know, he still may not be ready to let his wall come down.”

I shook my head, sniffing back a few last tears. “I don’t care. I just need to see him. I need to tell him that I understand now why he puts his wall up. It’s just not fair that he feels like he needs one; it’s not fair that he has to live the way he does. He doesn’t deserve it. He deserves more than a business arrangement with Veronica. He deserves to feel real love again.”

With a little smile, Bridget got up from the table and extended a hand to me. “You’re damned right about that. Let’s go.”

We’d walked to town, and now we speed-walked back. Bridget was going to give the animals their dinner while I talked to Trevor. But when we arrived at the mansion, Jeannie said he’d already come and left.

“Some of the Renards tried to attack a farmer and his family on one of the farms just to the west of town. They’re all okay, but Commander Beaumont took Aaron and a few other members of the pride out there to set up patrols for the night. He said he’d be back in an hour or two.” Jeannie paused, studying me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “But in the meantime, Savannah, why don’t
I
feed the animals and take the dogs out to use the bathroom while you and Bridget have a bite to eat in the dining room. And don’t worry, Veronica’s already had her dinner tantrum of the night and retired to her room. Then, once you’ve eaten, Commander Beaumont asked that I show you something.”

Mystified, I just stared at her a second. “Well, what is it?”

She just shook her head. “No, no hints. Just go wash up and eat.”

Bridget and I soon did, speculating on just what on earth Trevor could want Jeannie to show me. But we really didn’t even have any good guesses.

Once we’d finished eating, we found Jeannie doing some cleaning in the casual kitchen, and Veronica glowering at her from the table with a mug of tea.

Setting a wash rag down, Jeannie looked from Bridget and me to Veronica, and then back to us again, clearly irritated or uncomfortable by something, or both. “Apparently Miss Veronica, here, overheard me telling you about Commander Beaumont wanting me to show you something, and now she’d also like to come.”

Veronica looked from Jeannie to me, setting her mug down with a bang. “Correction. And now I’m
going
to come.”

I didn’t argue with her. I really didn’t care. I was too focused on finding out just what Trevor had instructed Jeannie to show me.

Still dressed in her starched navy-and-white maid’s uniform, though now wearing white tennis shoes and socks instead of the dressier, ballet-type flats she usually wore with nylons while working, Jeannie led our group into the vast backyard and toward the woods at the edge of it. Bridget and I walked along behind her, and Veronica stomped along beside us, pink lips fixed in a pout and arms folded across her chest. Though it was about seven in the evening, it was still plenty light out, since it was now June and the sun’s last rays still shone until nine or so.

When we reached the woods, Jeannie paused briefly, brushing a few strands of her salt-and-pepper hair out of her face. “There’s another trail now, but it doesn’t run parallel to town; it runs straight back a little ways.”

She entered this new dirt trail, which began between two towering cypress trees and widened into a whole forest of them. Now beneath the tree canopy, we didn’t have
as
much light, but still enough so that I could see after just a minute or two that we were approaching a large building of some kind. Long and low, it had a brick facade and gray-shingled roof; a flagstone walkway lined with young magnolia trees led to the entrance.

Still leading us toward it, Jeannie glanced back at me. “He designed it all himself, even found time to do a lot of the construction himself, too. Spent several very early mornings on a backhoe out here.”

We soon reached the building and came to a stop, and I saw a small sign near the entrance that had been hidden by the magnolias. White lettering on stained cypress wood told me what the building was to be used for.
Savannah Foster’s Cypress House Animal Rescue
. I couldn’t say anything; I could only stare at the sign with a lump in my throat.

Beside me, seeming a little breathless from our brisk walk through the hot, humid woods, Jeannie took a few gulps of air before speaking. “He thought you could keep the animals here and maybe have community visiting days where people can come and look at the animals. He’ll have a drive put in to the north of the mansion, kind of in a wide circle going around it, and he’ll have some of the trees cleared near here to make a little parking lot. That way, people can just drive up and visit. Now, why don’t we all go inside and pay a little visit ourselves. I need some air conditioning.”

The shelter was perfect. Even larger than it appeared on the outside, there was room enough for a hundred dogs and a hundred cats. At least. Which was good, since even during the short time that Bridget and I had been doing rescues in the woods, several new litters of puppies and kittens had been born. I’d also recently spotted one shy, skittish dachshund so heavily pregnant her belly dragged along the forest floor.

As we made our way through the building, Jeannie told me more about Trevor’s plans, saying that he planned to hire the town vet to work in the shelter a few days a week, to treat all the animals on-site. “And if Dr. Ericson feels he already has his hands full with his own practice in town, then Commander Beaumont plans to possibly hire a veterinarian from the United Free States, probably DC, to come down here and do the job.”

We’d now all filed into one of two spacious rooms that were to be designated “puppy play rooms,” and I just looked around, fighting an ache in my chest. And when I spoke, it was almost to myself.

“This amazing gift… Why isn’t he here to give this to me in person?”

I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to that question, which was that
he,
meaning Trevor, was likely afraid of my gratitude turning into some display that was less than businesslike. Jeannie and Bridget probably knew this was the answer to my question, too, so neither of them answered me. Veronica, however, who’d been sullenly silent during the tour up to this point, now piped up.

“Um,
excuse me
. I think the
real
question is why didn’t he build me a rhythmic gymnastics studio.”

Bridget immediately gave Veronica a death look. “I think an animal shelter is a bit more important than a gymnastics studio, don’t you? An animal shelter is a
need
; a gymnastics studio is a
want
.”

Veronica scoffed. “Is that a fact? Well, if I can’t have what I
want
, then maybe I’ll just have to do
what
I want
in
this
place, since it’s the only place Trevor built. This place is about to become a zoo-slash-gymnastics studio.”

Before any of us could ask her what she meant or stop her, she took off at a run across the room, launching herself into some sort of leap after several paces. It looked like it was intended to be a split leap, but her form and height didn’t quite make it there. And somehow, almost seeming to defy the laws of physics, because her lead leg at least
was
fairly straight in the air, she landed less on the bottom of her foot and more on the side of it. The rubber sole of her tennis shoe squeaked against the epoxy-painted cement floor.

With a shriek, she instantly fell on the side of her leg and hip, then kind of rolled back to her rear and grabbed her ankle. “That’s not how that move is supposed to go! I just haven’t been practicing enough lately, because I don’t have a goddamned studio!”

I knew right away that she’d rolled her ankle, maybe even sprained or broken it. There was just no way the funny angle of her landing hadn’t left her without injury.

I rushed over first, with Jeannie and Bridget actually seeming to be hesitating, as if they weren’t quite sure if Veronica was entitled to assistance from them or not. They were the smart ones, though. As I knelt beside Veronica, asking her to show me her ankle, she gave me a little kick with her opposite foot.

“Get away from me!”

“Just—”

“No! Get away!” Giving me another little kick, she twisted her body and face away from me, knocking her head smack against the cinder-block wall, and hard. “Ow! Ow, goddammit! Look what you just made me do! Now I probably have a concussion!” Jeannie was beside us now, roughly pulling Veronica up to her good foot. “Get up. Now you’re going to the hospital, where I’m going to ask them to keep you overnight for observation, if for no other reason than to give us all one night of peace and tranquility in the house.”

Veronica had allowed herself to be pulled up, but now she thrashed against Jeannie’s hold. “Let go of me, you old witch!”

Jeannie held fast, her mouth in a grim line. “We’re going to go back to the house and take Gerald’s truck to the hospital now, Veronica. And if you resist, I’m going to tell Commander Beaumont how you called me a ‘dumb old cow’ in the kitchen today, and Gerald and Sophie will be my witnesses. I don’t think Commander Beaumont will like hearing that.”

Now seeming to be done thrashing, Veronica just glared at Jeannie for a long moment, breathing heavily, before rolling her eyes. “Whatever. Just take me right to the hospital so I can get the hell away from you.”

With Bridget and Jeannie on each side of her, their arms around her shoulders, she soon hopped out of the shelter, silent and stony-faced. I stayed at the shelter maybe an hour longer, wanting to look at everything more thoroughly and plan a few things, and also to avoid having to make the walk home with Veronica.

Once I’d finally left the shelter and had nearly made my way back to the house in the waning light, I called Bridget to see if Veronica had made it to the hospital without injuring herself further.

Bridget laughed. “Somehow, yes. And they’ve already determined that she doesn’t have a concussion, just a sprained ankle. Oh, and a case of ‘severe attitude,’ as Nurse Martha says. I don’t think she’s too thrilled to see Veronica back here.”

I soon ended the call and entered the house from the back, then went to the front and looked out the window, disappointed to see that Trevor’s truck wasn’t yet in the driveway. Not too long after, Jeannie came home, and I told her to please tell Trevor to come see me in the animal wing when he came home.

“And, please, don’t take no for an answer from him. I really need to talk to him.”

Jeannie said she’d make him come to the animal wing. “I’ll push him there if I have to.”

After giving all the animals some love and cuddles, I shut them all in their respective rooms for the night, even putting Rascal, who usually slept in my room, in a room with Snowball, who seemed to be his best cat friend. I just didn’t want any of his antics to interrupt my talk with Trevor. Then, I went back to my own room and sat down in a swivel chair at the desk to wait for Trevor. I watched out the window above the desk while the sky turned from lavender, to gray, to deep midnight blue studded with stars.

And that was when he came, heavy boots thudding down the hallway. I turned in my chair just in time to see him step beneath the doorway and stop there, as if some invisible force prevented him from taking even a single step inside my room.

He looked at me with his face expressionless. Businesslike. “Jeannie said you wanted to see me.”

I got up from my chair and took a few steps toward him. “Thank you, Trevor. For the shelter. It’s absolutely beautiful.”

“You’re welcome. Anything else?”

“You care about me.”

It had been a stated fact, not a question. Because in my heart, I knew he did.

“You care about me, and don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t. The animal rescue building proves it.”

Folding his arms across his chiseled chest, he unclenched his strong jaw just long enough to speak. “I built the shelter because I don’t want one entire wing of my home filled with flea-infested animals. No more, no less.”

“That’s not true. Deep down, deep within a little warm spot in your heart, you did it because you wanted to make me happy, because you care about me. I’m just sorry you can’t admit it, because there are so many layers of ice covering that one little warm spot. See, I may have been the one frozen in liquid nitrogen, but you’re the one who’s really frozen, Trevor.”

A soft scoff was his only response, and from where I stood, maybe six or seven feet away from him, I searched his face, trying to spot any signs that I was breaking through all his layers of ice, but I didn’t see any. His eyes were doing the funny thing where I felt like they were looking at me, yet somehow looking through me at the same time.

Hesitantly, I took two more steps toward him. “I just want to tell you something. That kiss we shared, sometimes I miss it. A thing that took place for four, five seconds, tops. An event that happened in the universe just once, for a few ticks of a second hand on a clock, and sometimes I miss it. Isn’t that strange?”