Shifters' Captive:Magical Menages 1(12)

Walker stared at him as though trying to read him before nodding curtly. He tossed one of the bags labeled Walker Sports at him.

Grant caught it and examined the shirt, pants and shoes inside.

"You and I should talk," Walker said. "We may not like it, but we're  stuck working together, so let's figure out how it's gonna go."

"Okay. How about this? We find the bad guy. We kill him. We go our  separate ways." Grant stepped into the jeans and pulled them up his  hips.

"It's not that easy. We have no idea what we're up against or how  dangerous it is. Like I said before, if we go rampaging in and slaughter  him, we might hurt the victims he's connected with." Irritation  flickered through Grant like the tickle of a whip. "I don't need you to  school me on psychic connections, Balto. I have friends I'm looking out  for too, and I don't plan to do anything to hurt them."

"It's not just about shifters. I don't want to put Sherrie at risk. I won't sacrifice her for the sake of our people."

"We have no idea what we're up against, but you're already running  scenarios in your mind? Take it easy. I have no wish to hurt the woman."  He cocked his head and studied his would-be partner. "Why do you care  so much? You don't imagine she's your soul mate, do you?" He drawled the  words soul mate.

Wolves were so devoted to the idea of mating for life it was sickening.

"What I feel or don't feel for her is none of your business," Walker snapped.

"So we've established boundaries. You don't try to give orders, and I  won't talk about your relationship. I think we're making progress."

The other man stepped close and gazed into his eyes. Grant could smell the lupine in him and it made his skin prickle.

"Let's be clear," Walker said. "This is about responsibility-something  you cats can't comprehend. I took this girl from her home and I intend  to keep her safe until this is over."

"Then what? She'll go back to her normal life as if none of this has  happened?" Grant couldn't help baiting the guy. It was so easy. "Will  your pack let her go? Will you?" Walker gave a disgusted growl and  pushed past, bumping his shoulder. He knocked softly on the door and  called Sherrie's name. The note of longing in his voice revealed  everything Grant needed to know about how Walker felt. The shifter was  in love with the human, fixated on her the way only a wolf could be. It  was said once they found their mate, they were nearly obsessed, and  Grant believed it. This guy might kill him if he found out what Grant  had been up to with her in the psychic realm. He was glad to be a cat.

Multiple partners shifting and flowing in an erotic dance was a much  more natural way to live. And since he'd discovered his ability to reach  across the void of space and take a lover in the astral realm, his sex  life had become even more interesting.

After a moment, the door opened. Sherrie's body was backlit, showing her  curves under the polyester uniform. Her brown hair was gold-gilded in  the halo of light. Grant felt a jolt in his chest, the same adrenaline  charge of the heart he got when he shifted, and even though he'd just  finished having her, he wanted her again.

It was an interesting effect. Luckily he wasn't an emotional fool like  Walker and could tell the connection was purely chemical. His body  reacted strongly to her because it was compelled. She exuded strong  pheromones that excited him like catnip. They were acting on the other  man too. Grant could smell his lust and, oddly enough, Walker's arousal  spurred his own. The thought of the man's cock stiff in his pants made  Grant even harder.

John cleared his throat. "I've brought you clothes. After you change, we  should probably get going even though it's not light out yet. I hope  you were able to get some sleep."

"Some." Sherrie smiled and accepted the bags. "Thanks." She closed the cabin door, leaving the men in the dark.         

     



 

Grant exhaled. "That woman is something special. I think she may be more  powerful than both of us together. You'd better watch out for that one,  buddy."

He grinned as Walker stalked past him once more on the way to the Blazer. Wolves were so easy to rile.



John resented every second of Perron's presence. He'd like to bare fangs  and tear the smile right off his smug face. It wasn't just the natural  conflict between wolf and panther, but this particular man he couldn't  stand … and the way he looked at Sherrie.

Still, he couldn't let his personal feelings interfere with the mission, which was to get to the root of the mysterious illness.

Besides, maybe it was only John's imagination that the panther kept  leering at Sherrie. Unfortunately, he'd gotten a strange vibe from her  as well ever since he returned from town. She wouldn't meet his eyes  when he handed her the bags of clothing. Now, as the Blazer climbed the  bumpy mountain road, she kept glancing over her shoulder at Perron in  the back seat or watching him in the side view mirror. Had something  happened while he was gone? Had she unlocked the door and let Perron  inside?

John inhaled deeply, searching for the musk of sex. With the swirling  pheromones in the air it was hard to tell what he was smelling, but his  hackles rose at the mere thought of this other man touching his woman.

Sherrie leaned forward and turned on the radio to fill the silence in  the vehicle. There was only one channel available up here in the  mountains and the country music was interspersed with static. After  several moments, she turned off the radio and sat back to stare out her  window at blackness. Then she turned and looked into the backseat at  Grant again.

"Tell us more about yourself, Mr. Perron."

"What do you want to know?"

John glanced in the rearview, catching the glint of Perron's golden eyes in the darkness.

"I don't know. What do you do for a living?"

"Nothing as glamorous as owning a sporting goods shop," he replied dryly. "I make what money I need through trading."

"Like muskrat and beaver pelts?" Sherrie asked.

"Like stocks and bonds. We do have satellite Internet connection at the  higher elevations. My house is on the next mountain to the north."

"Oh." Sherrie paused for a moment before going on. "What about your  people? John said you're scattered about, that you don't live in a  community."

"What John doesn't know about panthers would fill an ocean. We do have a  community, maybe not tight knit by wolf standards, but we keep in  touch. And we're just as concerned about each other as they are in a  crisis like this."

"You said you had friends affected. Anyone close?"

"Marina." Perron's voice was tight, and for the first time John sensed  strong emotion instead of cocky attitude. "My …  She's my lover  sometimes."

"How long ago did she fall victim?"

"Last week. I've tried to reach her inside her mind, but it's like a  steel door is barring me. That's when I knew we had to try to find  outside help."

"And you dreamed about Sherrie," John supplied. "How exactly does that work?"

"My ability to travel while dreaming only developed during the last  couple of years. I have no idea what triggered it," he admitted. "As for  prophetic dreams, this is the first time I've had one. I saw Sherrie's  face and was led to her, simple as that. Ask your wisewoman how it  works. Maybe she'll have some insight."

"I'm sorry about your girlfriend." Sherrie offered a sympathetic smile.  "It must be terrifying to see someone you love struck down like that."

"She's a strong woman. I believe she can survive this. She came to the  U.S. from Russia six years ago. Slavers brought her along with about a  dozen other girls. You've read the stories about how women are kept  prisoner and used as sex slaves. Well, Marina's kidnappers got more than  they bargained for. She bided her time, let them pay for her passage  then ripped them apart." Perron gave a rumbling growl of satisfaction.  "After that, she found her way to us. It's important to bring in fresh  genes to the pool, don't you agree, Walker?" John grunted in reply. Why  was it everything the man said to him sounded laced with irony? And why  did his skin prickle in a not entirely unpleasant way at the sound of  his sarcastic voice? He turned his attention back to driving.

Paved road turned into a rutted trail and soon it was hard to tell there  was a path at all. The vehicle hit a rock, sending a jolt through the  vehicle that made John's teeth click together.         

     



 

"This is as far as we can go," Perron said. "Pull over and we'll hike  from here." John's jaw clenched. He'd been about to do that, but now he  didn't want to since Perron had commanded it. He drove another quarter  of a mile before finally steering the Blazer off the track and parking.  He rested his hands on the steering wheel and turned to look at Sherrie  in the glow of the dashboard lights.