The Catalyst (a paranormal romance: Preternaturals Book 3) Page 5

  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.

  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?