The Catalyst (15 page)

He had a tight hold on her hand as he led her through
the forest, finding his way back to the cave by scent. She’d stayed
quiet since they’d started back, not complaining of the distance,
though she couldn’t be used to this much tramping through the
woods. He admired a woman who didn’t bitch and moan about
hiking.

But it wasn’t the peaceful kind of silence that
happened while observing the natural world in awe. Tension sparked
off her like bolts of agitated current from a live wire.

Z’s silence was for a different reason. He knew there
might still be a witch out here somewhere. Ditzy or not, she was
still a witch who was aligned with the enemy.

“We have to find the pup,” Fiona said.

Here it was.

“Where do you propose I look? A couple of magic users
magicked him away. I have no way of finding them. I don’t even know
who they are.”

“Can’t you follow their trail?”

“You think they wouldn’t mask it? You think they’re
so stupid and underprepared knowing he’s with someone like me who
can track? These people are organized. They’ve been after him for
months!” He should blame Fiona for letting the pup out of the cave,
but the biggest emotion Z felt with regards to the lack of a small
wolf was relief. The situation was out of his hands now, and he was
free.

He pushed down the guilt before it could grow. He
should have left the pup in the middle of the woods that day to
fend for himself, but he’d been bored, and the pup had been
entertaining.

“Don’t yell at me,” Fiona said, tears in her
voice.

“I’m not yelling. I’m just saying. Unless you have
some magic way to find him, we can’t find him.”

Her silence was all he needed.

Z sighed. “It’s over. He’s gone. I don’t know where
his pack is. I don’t know how to find them. I don’t know who these
people are that took him.” And he’d stupidly tossed the card with
the phone number on it in the fire. He could have called that
priest vampire. Not that the guy would have given him any
information, anyway. And if Fiona couldn’t use a spell to locate
the pup, a business card wouldn’t help her find the vampire,
either.

“We’ll try to figure something out tomorrow,” he
said. Part of him just wanted to forget about the pup. It wasn’t
his problem now. Shit happened. But saying that out loud to Fiona
would guarantee she’d hate him forever, and he couldn’t have
that—not with the weird thing she’d done to his heart. He wasn’t
sure what would happen if she hated him, and he wasn’t worried
about magic. No, this was all standard human emotion stuff. He made
a face like he’d eaten something sour, thankful he was walking in
front of the witch so she couldn’t see it.

“But anything could happen,” she said. She’d given up
the fight against her tears.

He could feel her guilt over letting the pup get away
from her.

“It’s not your fault, okay? I just need rest. I don’t
have a plan. I just… Tomorrow. We’ll figure something out
tomorrow.” Maybe a meteor would fall on the cave… or an apocalypse
would happen… or she’d hit her head and get amnesia. Any of those
outcomes would work.

“Do you promise?” The catch in her voice made his
skin feel too tight, like he wanted to crawl out of it.

“Yes.”
Anything to get you to stop crying.

Another half hour passed before they arrived at the
cave. Fiona had managed to stop the tears and was back to silence.
Z gave her a boost at the cave entrance.

She looked back. “Seriously? You’re not going to
check inside to make sure it’s safe, first?”

Z growled. “How many times do I have to explain the
wild animal thing to you? I can smell the whole cave. Nobody has
been here but us. Now get your cute butt in there.”

Even in the growing darkness, and despite losing the
pup, he could see the blush creeping over her face, but she
scurried up the side of the rock and into the cave. Z followed.

“I-I could do some magic—a healing spell, I mean—on
your shoulder.”

Z glanced down. The injury was minor by his
standards, though probably not by hers. “It’s fine. It’ll be healed
up by the time I go to bed. There’s no sense in you wasting your
magic on me.” He stalked closer and she took an unconscious step
back.

“It wouldn’t be a waste—”

“Shhh.” He offered his hand. “I need a shower and so
do you, after being out all day in the heat.”

Her eyes widened comically. “I b-beg your
pardon?”

There he went with the one-step-too-far thing. He
couldn’t be sure if she was offended that he’d implied she didn’t
smell great—hey neither did he, it wasn’t a judgment—or that he’d
just suggested they shower together to fix the situation. He
figured he’d skip over the lesser issue and make his case for the
latter.

“Oh, come on. We had a big adrenaline-filled moment
in the clearing back there. I know you felt it, too. If I hadn’t
had blood all over me, I would have taken you right there. You know
we’re going to do this. You’ve drooled over me every opportunity
you’ve gotten in the short time we’ve been in each other’s
company—”

“I
have
not!” Her arms crossed over her chest
in a defensive posture, as if he was the last sentient being she’d
sleep with even if her species faced extinction. But he wasn’t
buying it. Underneath the smell of sweat and fear for the pup and
the woods was the smell that made him brave, because he knew just
how much she wanted him.

And he was still naked, having left his clothing
miles and miles away when he’d first shifted to track her faster.
It was obvious he wanted
her
. So what were they waiting for?
She needed a distraction from the pup crisis, and he needed to be
inside her.

“No point denying what I can smell. My nose doesn’t
lie, darlin’.” He smirked as her skin flushed a darker red.

He knew she wanted to take him up on his offer, could
see the internal struggle like subtitles going across her face. But
she was too conflicted to make a move toward him.

“Fiona, look. You want to. I want to. I know your
first time should be with some guy you’ve been mooning over for
months, who has bought you flowers and candy and pretends to like
the same movies you like. There should be candles and fancy sheets.
But I’m not a romantic candlelight sex kind of guy. I’m a
fuck-in-the-shower kind of guy.”

“N-no thank you.”

He knew he was getting to her.

Z threw up his hands in surrender. “All right. But I
can’t be in this close proximity to you much longer like this. Fair
warning. I’m running out of gentlemanly scruples. And it’s not safe
to take you back home now. You know where I am if you change your
mind.”

***

Fiona collapsed on the couch as soon as he was down
the hallway. She was surprised her legs had held her up this long,
especially after he’d propositioned her. Everything about Z was
inappropriate and non-romantic and just plain… like some
uncivilized caveman.

But he was right.

She wanted him in the worst way. She’d had this
background ache for him almost from the moment he’d shifted for the
first time in her kitchen. Although she needed someone to be gentle
with her the first time, every fantasy that starred Z was rough and
exciting. Everything about him was too overpowering. She’d be lying
if she said she didn’t want to be swept up in it because being
around him made her forget all her stupid fears—maybe because he
replaced those fears with new, more immediate fears, but still. Why
question what worked?

She’d ventured outside the cave to protect the pup.
She couldn’t have done that without Z coming into her life. Of
course, she’d almost gotten killed in the process… and they’d lost
the wolf…

Her mind flashed to muscled tan flesh stalking the
leader of the witches. Z was a killer. He may or may not kill human
beings regularly, but he didn’t have a guilt complex about it. He
showed no signs of having any moral trouble with what he’d done out
there. No remorse. Wild animal was right. He did whatever he had to
do.

Why was she so attracted to that?
Because no
matter what the birds said, Z is big enough and bad enough to
protect what’s his. He won’t hesitate.

Where had that come from? As if being his were an
option. She could tell he didn’t care one way or the other about
the pup. Even after having him for so long. He was relieved to be
rid of the responsibility. What was she going to say to him: “So,
Z… since you kidnapped me for babysitting help and since you just
got free of adult responsibility again, maybe I could interest you
in being my personal bodyguard.”

Who was she kidding? He’d minced no words explaining
his notched-bedpost philosophy of life. He wasn’t boyfriend
material. He wasn’t true love material. He wasn’t anything but a
quick road to heartbreak. On the other hand, shouldn’t she have
more than one sexual partner in life? Was that what was normal
now?

Maybe she could be more brave after this. Couldn’t he
just be her first without attaching expectations to it? He didn’t
have to be
the one
. He didn’t have to be noble and wonderful
or father material or husband material. All he had to be was an
experience. She wasn’t a teenager. She could handle this.

The sound of the shower startled her out of the
mental cheerleading. Fiona was off the couch before she realized
she’d moved. She wouldn’t let herself think about what she was
doing. This might be her one opportunity before she ended up back
in her cottage watching men on TV. Was that what she wanted? To sit
around her house alone, regretting how close she’d come to primal
maleness and having a normal life experience, only to let it slip
away?

This was a normal thing. And it was just down the
hall. Well… a couple of steps away behind a door. The door creaked
open when she turned the knob, and Fiona winced at the sound. She
couldn’t walk away without him knowing she’d been there.

Z’s head popped out from around the shower curtain.
His eyes glowed golden, and his nostrils flared.

She stood mere inches from him. “I thought you said I
smelled bad.” From the look in his eyes and the way he was sniffing
the air, the opposite was the case.

“I said we both needed a shower. Besides, the other
smell is overpowering the smell from the woods. Ditch the clothes
and get in here.”

Definitely not a romantic.
What the hell am I
doing?
Was she going to let some cave-dwelling cretin bark
non-romantic orders at her? Shouldn’t he at least make some minor
effort? Like she mattered in some miniscule way? For the moment she
forgot about the fact that when it was between the pup and her,
he’d chosen her. He’d risked his life for hers.
That
was the
classic romance hero, swooping in all righteous to save the day. It
was every movie she’d ever watched. But that moment had passed. Now
they were left with this one. And somehow she doubted this was what
happened later behind closed doors in those stories.

“This was a mistake.” Fiona turned to leave.

“Oh no you don’t. That was the last flip-flop you
pulled on me.” With one arm he reached out and pulled her into the
shower with him, fully clothed.

Z backed her against the shower wall opposite from
where the water sprayed down, his searing kisses stealing the
protests from her mouth. Fiona gripped his shoulders—the only solid
thing to hold onto in there. The rest was slippery, wet tile.

He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her flush
against him, and propped the other against the wall over her
head.

“Fiona… you’re playing with fire with me.”

“Hey, you pulled me in here!” Her clothes were
sticking to her. Jeans and wet T-shirt. She wasn’t prepared to be
so close to him in such good lighting with no clothes on, but
soaked clothes clinging to her every curve wasn’t comfortable,
either.

Z pulled the shirt over her head, wrung it out and
tossed it out on the floor. Then his fingers hooked into the front
of her pants. Fiona’s stomach clenched in excitement and fear at
his fingers being so close to such an intimate place. No man’s hand
had been that close before. She sucked in a breath and looked
away.

The energy around him shifted, and then his hand was
stroking her face and the side of her neck. She couldn’t help
arching toward him.

“Hey,” he said, his voice going gentle, “we both need
a shower. That’s all we have to do here.”

She chanced a glance at his eyes. “Okay.” Sure,
they’d pretend this was about hygiene and being conservationists.
Two people. One shower. It was good for the environment. Now to
collect her ecology merit badge.

He went back to the jeans, fumbling with the two
buttons at the top, then with help from her and a lot of frustrated
cursing, he peeled them off. She crossed her arms over her
chest.

“You’ve got nothing to hide from me,” he said, taking
her hands in his.

She tried not to think of his long list of conquests.
As if he could read her mind—and how big of a mystery could her
thoughts be under the circumstances—he said, “Believe me. They
don’t hold a candle to you.”

It was a line, but she couldn’t help falling for it,
because right now she needed to hear it and believe in it. If she
was going to keep doing this normal thing that grown women who
aren’t afraid to leave their houses do, if she was going to have
this one moment where she pretended she was one of those normal
women, one who didn’t have powers she was afraid of and phobias
about being outside, then she needed to hear the line and be the
stupid girl who believed it. Because that was normal, too.

The cave was small and closed in and protected. Z
could protect her. She could exist in this tiny, safe world with
him. The trouble was, would he want her here tomorrow after he’d
scratched his itch? Z’s cave had become the new safe base, but
there were no guarantees she’d be allowed to stay. How was she
going to function if she had to leave?