Cold Blooded (Jessica McClain #3)
Cold Blooded (Jessica McClain #3) Page 11
Cold Blooded (Jessica McClain #3) Page 11
Goose bumps covered my flesh.
I pressed my face into his chest and tried to recover. My brain was mush. I had to take a step back to regroup. Rourke had been around a lot longer and his control was impeccable. I was a newborn and mine was not. “Rourke, how old are you?” I tilted my head up at him.
His expression held a glint of surprise. “I haven’t answered a question like that in a very long time.”
I shrugged. “We’re a couple now, and it’s time for us to be on the level about everything or this won’t work. I don’t know what you are—only that you’re a cat of some kind. I think the basics are in order here. Don’t you agree?”
“Instead of answering, I’d rather show you. Reaching the top of the mountain will be quicker and easier in our animal forms. Once we change back, we can talk.” His voice held an intensity I couldn’t place. Was he really worried what I’d think?
“Listen,” I said, placing my palms on his pecs. “I don’t care what you are, or even how old you are. We’re way past that. None of it matters. You could be a two-thousand-year-old Griffin and it wouldn’t matter to me.”
He laughed. It was a rough, rich sound. “I’m no Griffin, but it’s better if I show you.”
I hesitated, reading his gaze.
He was anxious.
“Okay.” I turned toward the river. “Where do you want to shift? And I hope you have spare clothes at the cabin, because mine aren’t going to magically morph there.”
He took my hand and led me toward the water. “I have extra clothes, but you’ll have to make do with mine until everything is settled up top. I’ll come back down and get yours when we’re done dealing with Ray. Let’s cross the river before we shift. We’re fairly close to the sulfur stream, and it’s straight up from there. Since we’re shifting, it doesn’t make sense to douse ourselves—sulfur won’t mask our animal scents. They are way too strong.”
I followed him into the river. The water wasn’t that deep and we managed to cross to the other side without getting totally soaked. It was dark as night in the forest. He guided me to a small grassy patch. “You change here and I’ll shift over there.” He pointed to bushes twenty paces away. “I haven’t been in front of anyone in my true form in longer than I can remember. I don’t want to scare you, so let’s take it slow.”
I rubbed my arms absentmindedly. “You’re kind of freaking me out,” I admitted. “Should I be scared? And why don’t you have to change very often? I thought shifters needed the release—their bodies had to shift.”
He leaned down and planted a kiss on my forehead. “I don’t ever need to shift. Once you’re old enough, you gather power to yourself automatically and I’ve perfected it without shifting. I can’t do what you can do—and achieve a full suspended form—but I can reach my beast without a full change. It gives me more power than the average shifter, but it’s not like yours.” I’d seen him channel his beast when we’d fought the wolves, and then again with Selene. He was incredibly controlled. The only thing that had given him away both times had been the golden fur that had sprouted along his arms.
“How old is old enough?” I pressed, curiously.
He chuckled. “Old.”
Naomi’s words filtered through my mind. When we’d been on the road, she’d informed me there had been rumors Rourke was close to acquiring a godhood, which was the ultimate mix of power and immortality for a supernatural. You had to be old enough, powerful enough, and have a god or goddess as your patron. But it wasn’t something I felt comfortable asking yet. We hadn’t even consummated our relationship. Chatting about possible god-ness sounded too over the top, especially since he was shy about telling me what kind of cat he was.
I pushed it out of my mind for now. “Okay”—I looked around—“this is as good a spot as any. I’ll change here.” Without waiting, I reached down and grabbed the end of my shirt and pulled it over my head. Rourke stood watching me, and I grinned as I tossed it away. “You better get a move on, Big Boy. You don’t want to risk jumping me once I’m naked. Or I might just jump you, so you better leave while you still can.”
Reluctantly he turned and left. I shimmied out of my leggings and lay down completely naked in the cool grass. Summer was moving on and the nights were getting chilly, especially in the mountains. My nipples budded painfully and I forced myself to ignore how much they ached.
“Are you ready?” Rourke called from his spot. His voice sounded strained and I knew without a doubt he could see me and it was killing him.
I felt a little better. At least I wasn’t the only letch in town.
“Ready.” I switched control to my wolf on a thought.
The shift was smooth and effortless.
My body had become more accustomed to shifting with each change. The first time had been a train wreck. I’d fought it with everything I had, and it had been the worst thing I could’ve done. Now it felt natural and fluid. My back arched as my legs extended. Fur sprouted along my skin like a soft blanket.
The change took less than a minute.
Once I was finished, I blinked and glanced around. The night was clear. Everything was more detailed and easier to see in this form. We called our animal form our “true form” because it was our body’s most natural form. We hailed from humans, spent most of our time in a human form, but animals were our true nature. It felt unbelievably free to be in this body. This is what all shifters craved.
I lifted my muzzle to the sky, resisting the urge to howl. The darkness wasn’t absolute. Instead objects glowed around me in an amber haze, my eyes gathering light from everywhere so I could detect the smallest details. As I stood, I inhaled, raking air in over my sensitive tongue, tasting all the flavors of the night.
Then his scent hit me.
My wolf barked and our voice carried into the night sky. We were linked so closely in this form that control hung on a blink. My heart began to race as his musk engulfed us. I was in control now, but my wolf was agitated and a low growl escaped.
His scent was a thousand times stronger in his true form.
Cloves and rich molasses were intertwined with a kind of power that I didn’t understand. It didn’t feel godlike, like Selene’s had, but it was still incredibly strong. His smell calmed us, but his power frightened us. It sent currents of pressure into our body, warning us, urging us to flee. My wolf wanted to run. No, hold still. This is right. She whined and pushed herself into me, making us stagger. I know. I smell it, too, but he’s not going to hurt us. Focus on the signature, not on the power.
Rustling came from the bushes.
Rourke had finished his change even before we had, but he was letting us get used to him.
That may take longer than we had.
I opened my mouth and huffed into the air, telling him we were ready.
After a second, he stepped into view. One paw at a time until he stood only a few paces from us.
Oh, dear gods. What is he?
He lifted his tawny head to the sky and roared.
7
He took another step closer and stopped. Power surged off him in crisp waves and it was all I could do not to turn tail and run.
He was massive.
And one of the most beautiful creatures I’d ever seen. Is he a lion or a tiger? His fur was a rich gold, like a lion’s, but intricate dark stripes flowed over him, like a tiger. He didn’t have a mane. His fur was short, not shaggy—more like a puma’s. But he was clearly a Big Cat. His front incisors were curved and long, indicating his age. Nothing like him existed today. No lions and tigers had curved canines anymore. His weren’t massive like a saber-toothed tiger, but they were long enough.
Whatever he was, I’d never seen anything like it.
I took a tentative step forward and he whined at me, urging me to come closer. Cats and dogs were naturally leery of each other and this was strange in the extreme. For a moment it felt like fate had played a trick on me. And instead of being mated, Rourke would gobble me up the moment I stepped closer.
Sensing my trepidation, he sat down.
When I didn’t move, he sprawled on his stomach and lowered his head so I stood clearly above him.
It was enough to make me take another few steps closer.
My muzzle stretched out to him, scenting. He smelled like heaven, which was in direct odds with this scenario. When I got close enough, he reached up and licked my chin, his giant tongue covering all of it. I eased considerably, as did my wolf. She yipped, and the sound carried out of our shared vocal cords. I had to be careful, because all these heady emotions made our control bounce back and forth, and she would love nothing more than to take the reins.
He snuffed at us.
I moved back as he stood. He was a shoulder taller than I was, his beautiful eyes radiating outward. He was glorious.
He paced by my flank, rubbing up against me, scenting me and marking me to others. Then he started forward into the woods, and when I didn’t immediately follow, he huffed once over his shoulder before taking off into the night.
I took off after him, barking joyfully into the darkness.
We ran quickly, hitting the base of the mountain within moments. A cat was better tailored to pick its way over rocks as we climbed, but I kept up just fine, even though he kept circling back to make sure we were okay.
After the third time, I snarled a warning.
He can’t keep babying us. We may not be as seasoned as he is, but we’re strong too. My wolf growled at the thought of us being weak. I didn’t say we were weak, but on a scale of power, Rourke has us beat. She flashed an image of us tearing a similar lion to shreds. Come on, you felt his power. It’s off the charts. It almost hurts it’s so strong, and a minute ago you wanted to turn tail and run. She snarled, flashing a box in my mind. The very same one she’d shown me when we’d gotten into trouble with the Mahrac. I’d thought that once she opened it, it would contain more power than I could handle. But I’d absorbed it fully because it had been mine all along. At the time, I hadn’t known how to tap into it. I get it. I can sense the power inside us, but stronger than Rourke? That seems unlikely. He radiates it. Power leaks out of him like he can’t possibly contain it. Ours is not like that.
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