The Catalyst (6 page)

No, he couldn’t take care of her in the way any man
would want to take care of the right woman. There was no right
woman for Z. Any woman he met, he spoiled and screwed up for
whoever her right man was, and all in the space of a single night.
He always did have impressive talents.

After he finished beating himself up, he indulged in
a morning wank. Generally, any random image of any random woman
would do. Today it was Fiona in his head. He switched between lust
and guilt, but lust won out. When he finished, he scrubbed some
more and went for round two of self-recriminating mental talk.

He leaned his head against the tile. Women made him
too broody. If she knew the things he thought and mentally whined
about, it would kill her interest in a hot second. He wasn’t cut
out for a woman, and he wasn’t cut out for kids. He should have
left that pup where he found him. It would have been a hell of a
lot simpler.

When he got out of the shower, he was surprised to
find Fiona in the kitchen, making eggs. He’d bought eggs and bacon
at the store the previous week thinking he might fry or scramble
something up one morning. The bacon was frying in a second pan.

The pup wove in and out of her legs, but she was
ignoring him. When she noticed Z’s presence, she blushed and looked
away. “The list of my stuff and where it can all be found is on the
table.” She pointed the spatula at the list, then went back to the
eggs in front of her.

Z put the list in his pocket and looked around the
kitchen. Something was different. Very different. “You organized my
kitchen?”

“Um… I couldn’t sleep last night. I organize when I
can’t sleep.”

All the papers and junk that had been piled on the
table were in neat stacks and trays—trays he’d bought for that
purpose, but hadn’t gotten around to using. He opened the cabinets
to find all his coffee cups lined up in perfectly straight rows
from largest to smallest. Quirky. Should he say thank you or be
annoyed? Being annoyed wouldn’t be appropriate given that she
wasn’t here of her own free will. He should be grateful she’d
organized his stuff instead of broken or burned it.

“I made you some breakfast.”

When he’d said he needed some breakfast first, he’d
meant hunting. He needed to kill something in the worst possible
way. But he couldn’t stand to make her cry again, so he sat down
and ate eggs and bacon in his newly organized kitchen.

Several minutes passed in blissful eating silence
when she put down her fork. “This is a screwed up situation, but I
know you need help with the pup, and I said I’d help. I think deep
down, aside from the bad judgment in kidnapping me… I think you’re
a good man.”

He couldn’t help the groan that slipped out. What the
hell did he need to do for this woman to see he wasn’t a hero? Her
perceptions were all about her sexual peak approaching without ever
having had a horse in the barn. It wasn’t reality.

He realized he’d made the sound when she went silent
again. He felt the frost come off her: a subzero gust moving across
the table, headed straight for him.

“Fine. I’m sorry you think I’m such an idiot,” she
said.

Z couldn’t deal with this. He knew she wasn’t doing
it on purpose, but there were two ways to shut her the hell up, and
killing her didn’t sound like the fun option. He scraped his chair
back and moved faster probably than she could process. He jerked
her up out of her chair, and before she could protest, he planted
one on her.

The kiss was slow and sensual, his lips caressing
hers, devouring, tasting, exploring. His tongue slipped into her
mouth even though he knew, given her phobic history, that this was
new territory for her.

After a small eternity, he released her. “Now,
please… shut up. I’ll be back in an hour or so with your
things.”

She looked up at him, an odd cross between angry and
dazed. But dazed won out as she sank back into her chair and picked
up the fork to finish her eggs, a smile edging out her anger.

***

Fiona sat for a good thirty minutes after Z had left
her, the pup yapping at her heels, trying to play, wanting some
scraps.

“Oh yes, sorry puppy.” She didn’t glance down as she
put her plate on the floor to let the pup eat the leftovers. She
got up from her chair still dazed, a goofy grin painting her mouth.
She started humming as she put the dishes and frying pans into the
sudsy water to do the dishes like she was Cinderella or
something.

She was never going to tell him that had been her
first kiss. Granted, being told to please shut up afterward wasn’t
how it had played out in her fantasies. Still, it was… electric.
Fiona touched her fingertips to her lips. If Z had known she’d
never been kissed, he wouldn’t have done it.

He was already freaked by her virgin status. She
wished she’d never told him. If she could rewind time to when she’d
acted like a prude about the nudity, she would have kept her
feelings to herself. If she had, they might be doing more than
kissing right now. Surely he felt the same visceral thing she
did.

It sounded stupid to admit it, but he created a
somewhat scary physical reaction in her. It was hard to stand near
him—much easier to sit. He did something funky to her legs so they
didn’t want to hold her up right, which was a whole other level of
embarrassing. She didn’t want to act like a schoolgirl around
him.

To her knowledge, no witches could rewind time. Of
course, she’d always been rather lax with her studies. Being a
witch had been another thing that was just too scary. Aside from
her natural affinity with animal language, she hadn’t done much to
try to develop her power or her spell repertoire. She was woefully
amateur, for all the spell books and supplies she had stashed away.
She was little better than regular humans who didn’t have powers
but still said spells on occasion with varying but weak results.
The only thing she excelled at were minor healing spells.

If ever there was a slogan for her it would be:
Fiona Patrone: results may vary.

She always told herself she’d get to it. She’d learn
her craft and develop her natural powers. Eventually it wouldn’t be
so scary. She’d be able to handle it. But that time hadn’t yet
come. Every time she went to the basement to peruse the books, the
cold fingers of panic would squeeze her chest. What if she got in
too deep? What if she learned to do things, but couldn’t control
those new powers and hurt herself? What if she crossed some
irreversible line where she couldn’t go back to the way she
was?

Sure, it was all great in TV and movies where there
weren’t real consequences and all problems were neatly tied up, all
danger averted in an hour’s worth of programming. But real life was
scarier… and real.

She wondered why Z had taken her. It couldn’t be to
care for the pup. It was hard to imagine how he couldn’t tell the
difference between hungry and tired or playful and anxious. Was it
a guy thing or a panther thing that made him so clueless? Even
without the extra information that filtered through her senses,
she’d know what to do. Wouldn’t she?

Fiona jumped as the pup nosed the plate across the
floor, bumping it against the cabinets to get the last stubborn
bits of food still clinging to the ceramic.

“I think you’ve just about done all the damage you
can do there. It’s all gone.”

He looked up at her with sad, brown eyes, and she
laughed. “Would you like me to scramble you your own egg?”

The way he beamed gave her the answer she sought. It
was fascinating how much he seemed to grasp bits of human language.
She’d heard therians learned faster than humans. He might still
have to go through the trial and error of learning to speak when he
shifted, but he had at least a basic concept of what she was
saying.

She wondered if he had any of his own thoughts in
human language yet. It must be so frustrating to be stuck with
growing understanding, but no way to communicate your needs with
anyone outside your race. A therian born in his fur was a rare
phenomenon. His pack must be missing him.

After the pup had barreled through a couple of
scrambled eggs of his own, he sprawled in front of the fireplace to
play with a ball. Fiona finished the dishes, wiped down the table,
and sat on the overstuffed, brown leather couch, fishing through
her bag for a distraction to keep her from fantasizing about the
panther.

Z hadn’t given her any spell books, but at least he’d
packed a couple of mystery novels for her. She’d already read both
of them, but it was the thought that mattered. He’d also tossed a
few bottles of nail polish into the bag. She didn’t think she could
get into a book right now, so she opted for a bottle of lavender
polish.

She was halfway through painting her toes when Z came
back with a large satchel filled with the items she’d asked for.
Since he caught her in mid-paint, she was glad she’d thought to put
paper towels down. She didn’t imagine a guy like Z wanted to have
to worry about nail polish getting on his furniture.

“So, uh, I got your stuff.” He shifted his weight,
looking more awkward than she’d ever seen him. Instead of being
disarming, it unnerved her more. It was strange how someone so
powerful and threatening could also appear awkward and
endearing.

Fiona screwed the cap back on the polish and dropped
it into the bag with her clothes. “Thanks.”

They avoided each other’s eyes, and the pup couldn’t
act as a buffer. That’s what he was—a buffer to prevent anything
beyond PG-13 from happening. He’d nodded off for a nap in front of
the fireplace. Drool slipped from the side of his mouth, coating
the red rubber ball he’d been playing with not long before.

Fiona looked back at Z. He’d been watching the pup as
well but seemed to know when her focus shifted back to him. His
predatory gaze swept from the pup to her, and he smiled, all signs
of awkwardness gone.

She took a step back, her legs hitting the couch,
then she scrambled to one side of it.

“What’s got you so skittish?” But he knew. It wasn’t
a question. They both knew it. He was every ounce the predator
right now. “I haven’t had a chance to hunt,” he continued, by way
of explanation of the sudden animal possession.

“D-don’t let me stop you. Go. Go
hunt.” Fiona pointed to the mouth of the cave so there would be no
confusion to her meaning. She wanted him to go far from here. Or
did she?

Bright white teeth flashed. “All the good hunting is
in here.” He cocked his head to the side. “Actually, the
best
hunting is in my room.”

Her stomach fluttered in response to the caveman
routine. And then she got mad, first at him, then at herself for
responding to it. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I can
smell
you, Fiona. I know you want to
and you know you want to. And I know I want to. Can’t you just do
something without analyzing all the ways it can go wrong?”

He didn’t know her like he thought he did. He was
judging based on her reaction to outside. But wasn’t that enough?
How much more did someone need to see to know she’d crossed into
neurotic years ago?

Still. Just because both of their hormones were going
crazy in such close proximity, it didn’t mean they had to just act
on their animal urges and to hell with the consequences. “What
about the part where we’re a bad match and you’re not looking for
anything?”

He shrugged, inching closer. “We still are, but I
still want you, and you can’t go on smelling like you smell, Fiona.
It’s not fair.”

Fiona picked up the sleeping pup and planted herself
on the sofa. The wolf opened his eyes for just a moment, looked
around, then yawned and snuggled into her lap, falling back asleep.
“See? He’s comfortable. I can’t move him. Maybe you should go
hunt.”

She wished more than anything that she could get over
her fears and go outside. She needed air, breathing room. Either
she needed to leave or he did.

He laughed and moved toward the opening of the cave.
“Tonight, Fiona. It’s happening tonight. I can’t promise you a
life, but you’re inside my skin and I want to be inside yours. Even
if it can’t be forever, there’s chemistry, so let’s just have
tonight.”

“I—”

“I’ll be gone in the morning before you wake up.
There won’t be any morning-after awkwardness. I promise. When I
come back with his family, I’ll take you home. Think about it.”

She stared at his ass as he left, trying not to think
about it.

***

Z stood outside the cave just after sunset, debating
whether he should go inside. This was a bad idea, being alone with
her. He should just leave her a note when she went to sleep and get
the hell away from her. She was bad news. He’d known it from the
moment he’d busted into her kitchen. When his instincts had gone on
high alert upon first seeing her, it had been for a different
reason than he’d originally thought.

Fiona equaled entanglement.

He’d spent the whole day out, away from the tempting
witch. Hunting had taken the edge off after the first couple of
hours. He’d killed and eaten several rabbits while in his shifted
form. He’d seen a deer, but wasn’t in the mood for something that
large. Lucky for the deer. It wasn’t hunger that drove Z so much as
the killing urge.

Killing or fucking. Those were his instincts. He
imagined Fiona wanted to make him more complex than that,
attributing all sorts of arcane motivations to his behaviors. He
could almost see her trying to take it all apart in her pretty
little head, uncovering the mystery that is the male brain. But he
wasn’t all that complicated. At the end of the day, his needs were
pretty basic. Something to kill and something to roll around with
in bed. Preferably something that would quietly get up and leave
when he was finished with her.