The Catalyst (7 page)

He’d spent the day in a schizophrenic state. Half the
time he was convinced he had no true desire for Fiona Patrone. He
was just antsy and worried and not getting laid for awhile. Sure,
he loved ’em and left ’em, and his bedpost was so riddled with
notches it looked like a termite infestation, but he picked the
women who knew the score and could handle it. Not the ones who
couldn’t. Fiona couldn’t. She wasn’t that way. Her first time
should be with someone who could at least give her a second date—or
any pretense of a date at all.

Z had convinced himself his pseudo-desire for the
witch was a killing urge being transmuted into a desire for sex
somehow. The wires were just crossing. That was all. The other half
of the day he spent thinking about how he’d hunted and it had taken
the edge off, but her fair hair and freckles still floated through
his brain undeterred.

Fair hair and freckles? He shook
the image out of his head. That was not how Z operated. He didn’t
fantasize about hair and freckles. He fantasized about what normal
men fantasized about. Legs draped over shoulders, pert asses raised
in the air at just the right angle, cleavage, and a fine sheen of
sweat. If he wanted her for her freckles, there was something
seriously wrong with him.

And that wasn’t the only problem.

Though he’d been an asshole in many respects about
her phobias, he liked her vulnerability. It was something he wanted
to protect. Having protective urges toward her was no good. He’d
seen men go down that road. It was nothing but drama and heartache
and a nagging woman with a boatload of obligation at the end of it.
Fuck no. He would not be domesticated and led around on a leash
like so many males before him. She could cry ’til the apocalypse,
and it wouldn’t change his stance on the matter.

He let out a short growl and stalked into the cave.
He wasn’t about to start thinking such soft feelings toward her.
Playing the temporary role of Mr. Mom was enough. He needed to get
his sensitive side out of his system before it undid him. Z wasn’t
about to drop one commitment for another. The goal was to be free
again. If he got too attached to the witch, he’d just trade one
prison cell for another.

He found her in the kitchen talking to the pup, her
back to him.

“I’m not sure if wolves are supposed to eat tuna
melts, but it’s what I’m having, so I’ll let you try some if you
want.”

The pup gave a yip and darted between her feet while
she worked. It was a wonder she didn’t trip over the wolf as she
went back and forth from the pan to the counter where she assembled
the sandwich.

Z’s gaze shifted to the living area in front of the
couch where he’d left her the bag with her books and tools. The bag
had been emptied, and herbs and tools and crystals were lined in
rows, the crystals in color and height order.

His gaze raked over the books. One book sat on top of
the others, opened with a bookmark lying flat in the middle. Fiona
still hadn’t noticed him, so he slipped over to find out what she’d
been looking at, and he saw red.

“Fiona!” He spun toward her, catching the jump and
the way she cringed at his tone and the volume of it. Served the
scheming witch right. “You cast a love spell on me?!”

Her nose wrinkled in a kind of adorable way. “W-what?
No I didn’t! Why on earth would I do that?”

Well, she didn’t have to be offensive about it. Was
he not love-spell-worthy? He was beneath the notice of a woman who
was never around real, live men? He’d seen the way she looked at
him.

Z picked up the book and slammed it down on the
kitchen table, leaving it open on the page it had landed on. The
pup ran behind the couch in the living area to hide.

“Then what the hell is this? And why do I feel all
mushy about you? Why am I thinking about your fucking freckles
instead of your…” he trailed off as a flush crept up her neck. She
was much too innocent to be in his easy reach. She initiated his
predatory response.

He liked to believe he was a decent guy, but he was
barely holding onto that title.
Why did I bring her here
again?
Some darker voice inside his head responded:
You know
why, and it has nothing to do with babysitting the pup. You knew
that when you took her.

It soon became clear that the redness in her face,
while at least part embarrassment was also part anger. Make that
over seventy percent anger. She took the spatula she’d been using
to turn the tuna melt in the pan. Z ducked, thinking she was aiming
for him, but she pointed at the facing page in the magic book. “In
the first place, I haven’t cast any spells since I got here. In the
second, what I was looking at was
that
.”

His gaze shifted to the spell on the opposite page. A
protection spell. That would be more logical than the woman who’d
been running from his advances putting the love whammy on him. Like
she’d need to. He was already ready to pounce on her like a rare
steak. He felt like such a fool.

Her voice turned softer, though the accusation
remained in her tone. “I thought it would be a good idea to look at
the spells I might need if it came down to it. If you’re going to
be away, I might need to protect myself and the pup. I mean, I know
there’s a ward on the cave, but I worry he’ll get out again.”

“Fiona, I…” God, he was an ass.

She turned back to the stove and put her sandwich on
a plate. She paused, every muscle held in tension as if she’d been
frozen in place by some unseen force. Her head tilted to the side.
“You feel mushy?” There was a catch in her voice when she said it,
and a naked kind of hope he felt guilty for putting there.

Great. Could this evening get any more awkward or
confusing? He’d be glad when the morning came and he was out
searching for the pup’s family.

He moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms
around her, his lips pressing against the side of her throat. She
melted against him, then squirmed away. It might have been the
kiss, but it was more likely the raging hard-on pressed into
her.

“Fiona…”

She stilled as his breath puffed out over her
neck.

“Hmm?”

He chuckled. Somehow she’d managed to make a
hmmm
sound breathy. She really
was
magic.

“Let’s put the pup in his pen and go to my room.”

She pulled more forcefully out of his arms this time,
and Z let go. Fiona rounded on him. “Are you kidding me? You just
spazzed out over the horrors of me putting a love spell on you, and
now you want in my pants?”

“Well… yeah.” He wasn’t sure what was contradictory
or hard to believe about any of that. Had she ever looked in the
mirror?

“I know what kind of guy you are.”

He arched a brow. “You do? Because you’re just so
worldly? You’ve had so much opportunity to experience life and the
world, inside that little cottage of yours.” As soon as he said it,
he regretted it—even before he saw the light go out of her eyes and
her expression crumple.

She recovered as her eyes appeared to flash with
liquid green fire. If he didn’t know she needed books and tools and
prep time to cast a spell, he’d be scared right about now.

“I’m just another conquest for you,” she said. “I
didn’t ask you to marry me or have some big epic love with me. I
didn’t ask for any of this, but it’s pretty low for you to attack
my phobias when yours are just as irrational. I get that you’re a
wild animal, and these are close living quarters. And it’s hard to
live your fabulous bachelor existence with a pup here intruding on
your lifestyle. But you chose to take him and you chose to take me.
So if you want to remain unfettered, stop picking up strays!” Fiona
left her sandwich on the counter and stormed down the hall,
slamming Z’s bedroom door behind her.

That wasn’t how he’d pictured her ending up in his
room. He picked up the plate and followed, knocking softly when he
got there.

“Go away! Go scratch your itches with some slut who
doesn’t care she’s a sexual Kleenex. I’m not your blow-up
doll.”

He resisted the urge to break down the door. “Fiona,
I’m sorry. I brought your sandwich. You went to all that trouble to
make it. I don’t want your dinner spoiled because of me.”

“Too late.”

Why did she have to be so stubborn about everything?
He took a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. “I’m going to
leave your food out here by the door. But, if I were you, I’d get
it quick before the pup does. I won’t be back tonight. I’m just
going to go stay someplace in town and get started on the search
when the sun comes up. I should have gone today. You’re right. I
shouldn’t bring others into my life if I’ll resent it once they’re
here. Goodbye, Fiona.”

He waited for a reply, but the only reply were the
tears she probably thought he couldn’t hear from the other side of
the door. He moved out of sight and watched for another couple of
minutes, long enough to see her hand slip out and take the sandwich
into his room.

***

After he locked the pup up in the pen, he left his
cell phone on the kitchen counter with a note attached that he’d be
in touch to keep her updated, then he hightailed it out of there.
He’d grab another phone before setting out in the morning. With
Fiona in his room, he couldn’t pack a bag, but he had his wallet on
him, and he traveled light anyway. Anything he needed, he’d just
have to buy on the way.

He had no idea how long he’d be gone or how far he’d
have to travel to find the pup’s family. It couldn’t be too far,
though the fear clawed in the back of his mind that he wouldn’t
find the family no matter how far afield of Golatha Falls he
traveled. And what if the pup had been abandoned?

A sick thought entered his mind as he considered that
perhaps a werewolf had gotten a human pregnant. It wasn’t common,
but it wasn’t unheard of either. It would have to be a very strong
wolf to have a human mother and still be born in his fur. Maybe the
pup had been the product of a one-night stand, and she’d been out
somewhere, had the baby, and freaked out. Maybe she’d just
abandoned it.

If the father had been near her at all within a
couple of weeks of conception, he would have sensed his offspring
inside her, and wolves tended to be pretty possessive about that
sort of thing. But if it had been a one-night stand and they never
crossed paths again, he might not know about it. Could the girl
have been a local, and the wolf just been passing through? Maybe he
was a lone wolf without a pack or family and no interest in one. Z
could identify with that.

Maybe Z’s hunt was a wild goose chase. As cute as the
pup was and as much as he liked the little fella, he couldn’t
imagine being saddled with the kid until he was old enough to
leave. Plus, he could be stuck isolated with no pack, too. A wolf
that hadn’t been socialized with other wolves as a pup stood zero
chance of being taken into a pack as an adult. If he couldn’t find
the family, maybe he should look for a pack to adopt him.

Z looked up and realized he’d been on auto-pilot the
whole trip to the Java Junkie. He glanced over at the courthouse’s
big, brick clock tower. Almost nine o’clock. It was Monday, so the
coffee shop was about to close.

The bell over the door went off as he stepped inside.
Cherry was behind the counter, just where he knew she’d be. The
place was deserted.

She looked up and gave him her sly, porn star smile.
“I’m sorry, I just closed down the register. I was about to lock
up. I could give you a coffee on the house, though, if you like.
Just don’t tell my boss.”

“I’m not here for that.”
Z, you stupid son of a
bitch. Don’t do it. You can’t afford to piss off the keeper of the
coffee, and you know her. She likes you too much. She might not be
on the same
fuck and flee
page you’re on.
But Z ignored
the inner voice and flashed a dark smile, tossing in a wink to
garnish the flirtation.

Cherry’s eyes lit up and she returned a one
thousand-watt smile of her own.

“Lock up and let’s go. Yeah?”

It took her a couple of seconds to make her head move
in a nod, then another few seconds and a throat clearing to manage
a breathless
yeah
in return.

The barista tossed the washrag on the counter,
ignoring the biscotti crumbs trailing down the length of it, and
looped her arm in his, shutting off the lights and locking the door
behind them.

Z continued to ignore the inner voice’s ranting. If
ever there was a time he needed to get laid, it was now. Fiona was
right. He could do nothing but use her and toss her out. And she
deserved better than that. No woman’s first time should be with a
playboy. It should mean something. The guy should be there the next
day. There should at least be the hope of a relationship after, or
at least some type of friends-with-benefits package. Z could offer
none of the above.

He gave Cherry his helmet as she hopped on the back
of the motorcycle. “Won’t you need this?” she asked, as if she
would refuse the gallant gesture.

“You need it more than me. I’m durable.”

She laughed. It was the laugh that had amused him,
maybe even turned him on a little, but now it set his teeth on
edge. Still, he revved the engine and took them to the motel five
blocks down the street.

Twenty minutes later they were in a room. It was
clean and nice enough, but still appropriate for a single night
with a glorified waitress. It wasn’t where you took your
girlfriend, which was good. He didn’t want to send any
inappropriate signals. Z peeled his shirt off and reclined on the
bed. He couldn’t seem to work up a chuckle or smirk at the way she
practically fainted over his physique.

The female reaction to him had never gotten old.
Until now. He stood and paced, feeling like he’d been locked up at
the zoo with some stranger gawking and staring and admiring. If
this was how he defined freedom, why did he feel so caged?