Maybe her father being their son was just Evan's fantasy.
John had taken her to see Anna. The wisewoman was a surprise. She didn't give off a New Age mystical vibe or have penetrating, far-seeing eyes. In fact, she reminded Sherrie very much of her eighth-grade gym teacher, a middle-aged woman with a butch haircut and thick calves. Her manner was abrupt and to the point.
"You want to know about your father? I'll try, but I don't know if I can help you with that. My visions are erratic, to say the least," Anna said. "If I had any control over what I perceive, I'd have been able to identify Evan Blake as the attacker. But I only see what the Spirit chooses to reveal to me, sometimes seemingly random, useless flashes-although they usually make sense later." She'd held Sherrie's hands across the tabletop in her kitchen, such a mundane room for a psychic revelation, what with the lingering smell of coffee and burnt toast in the air. Anna closed her eyes and Sherrie did too. Then she waited. Minutes ticked past. She tried to relax and open her mind so Anna could see whatever she was looking for.
Sherrie started when Anna finally spoke. "Nothing. I'm sorry. I'm just not getting anything." Sherrie had opened her eyes, blinking and focusing on the other woman. "That's all right. I've gotten by this long without knowing who my father is. It's not that big of a deal. Thanks for trying." Although she'd been disappointed, Sherrie had meant what she said. It really didn't matter. She knew who she was, with or without a father. Mostly it was her unsatisfied curiosity about whether or not she had shifter blood that bothered her. Only time would tell about genetics. If she bore a child who howled at the moon, that might be a clue. On the other hand, considering the way her relationship with John was escalating, she might very well have a half-breed child anyway. That opened another whole avenue of things to consider.
Sherrie glanced at John, standing beside her in the Coxes' living room, and a warm glow spread through her. Just the sight of him could do that. She poked him in the arm. "You going to play DDR? With your reflexes, I bet you'll be a great dancer."
"You don't have to play with Liberty," Brian said. "Perhaps you'd rather sit and have a drink on the front porch, before dinner."
"No. It's cool. I want to play," Sherrie said. "So does John." Soon they were all taking turns at dancing, even stuffy Brian. After John's turn, he collapsed onto the sofa beside Sherrie and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "You're amazing, you know that?"
"Why, because I dance so good?" she teased.
"Because you instinctively know what people need and how to bring the best out in them." He nodded at Cox clumsily trying to match the computerized dance moves on the color-coded mat while his daughter danced as light as a pixie on her own mat.
"I know what you need, and I'll show you later," she murmured.
Dinner at the Coxes' table was much more pleasant than last time. Everyone talked and laughed and shared memories. Sherrie learned more about the people of Browning in one hour than she'd learned all week from John.
"What about your family?" Lydia asked. "Were they worried about you when you disappeared?"
"I have a sad answer to that question." She smiled. "No. My mom didn't happen to call those days, so she never knew I was missing. My friends wondered why I wasn't answering my cell, but figured I'd turned it off for some reason. My manager at work was mad when I didn't show up for my next shift, but he wasn't worried. So, no one realized I'd been taken." By her side, John moved restlessly. She knew he hated the fact he'd kidnapped her.
"I quit my job and called my friends to tell them I'd met someone and was moving. It was amazingly easy to pick up and leave. It only took John and me a couple of hours to clean out my apartment."
"Well, we hope you stay here awhile." Lydia smiled, and her brown eyes crinkled at the corners.
"Yeah, you can spend the night if you want." Liberty took her mother's invitation literally. "You can have my bed. I'll sleep on the floor in my sleeping bag."
"Sorry, Lib, I can't sleep over," Sherrie said. "John would miss me too much. But I'll come back again. I promise."
Later, after their goodbyes, as they climbed into the Blazer to drive home, John turned to her before starting the engine. "I would, you know."
"Would what?"
"Miss you too much if you spent the night with Liberty." He smiled and leaned to kiss her.
She tasted a trace of the strawberry pie that had ended their dinner and, beneath that, the taste of John himself, sweeter to her than the berries.
"I'd miss you too. Even for one night. Your snoring lulls me to sleep." He nipped her chin before pulling away and revving up the vehicle.
"I've been wondering about something," Sherrie said after they'd turned out of the driveway and headed down the mountain toward town. "You never go out. I mean, as far as I know, you haven't shifted since I've been living with you. Don't you need to go out and hunt some nights? I don't want you to hold back or for you to feel you have to act differently because of me." She watched his eyes focused intently on the road. He flicked a sideways glance at her. "I didn't want to leave you alone. You haven't been here long, and I didn't want you to feel strange or lonely."
"No. It's cool. You and I are different species. Believe me, I get that. I don't want you to deny your nature because of me." She waved a hand. "Go out. Hunt. Do whatever it is you do. I won't be lonely. Hell, if it's the middle of the night I'll probably be asleep."
"Are you sure?"
God, how she loved the concerned pucker between his brows. He was so sweet, she could eat him up.
In fact, she thought she would as soon as they got home.
"I'm sure. But I do have one other question for you."
"Yeah."
"Do you people ever own pets like cats and dogs for companionship?" He squinted. "They're not so much companions as they are prey so, no, not really."
"Okay." She nodded. "Maybe I'll get an aquarium."
Much later, as they pulled apart, sweaty and breathless from having sex, she rolled onto her back and exhaled deeply. "I love making love to you. Wait a minute. Isn't that a song?"
"I think so. But that's okay. I love making love to you too."
"Even more so now that it doesn't feel like something beyond my control. Know what I mean?" She glanced at him, wondering if he'd felt the change after that last ménage with Grant. The urgency that had driven her toward each of the shifters was gone now. Instead of feeling propelled by an irresistible force, it was normal attraction and affection that propelled her into John's arms every time.
He nodded. "I want you. But it's not a compulsion and I don't feel the same energy building as before."
"That's fine with me. I like it this way," she said. "But I wonder if it would be different if Grant was involved."
John turned his head on the pillow to gaze at her. "Do you want him to be?"
"Maybe a little. Just for spice. If he came for a visit, I wouldn't mind inviting him into our bed. What about you?"
She peered into his eyes, trying to read the subtext of what he said. Did he feel threatened by Grant, or secretly aroused by him?
He paused, exhaled, stared at the ceiling. "Well … It wasn't all bad, I guess, and it would be interesting to see if we build up a charge of energy like before."
"Or maybe it would just be natural chemistry now." She rolled to her side to face him and propped her head on her hand. "I have a secret, very hot fantasy about the two of you." John cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"
"You know how guys love watching two girls make out?" He started shaking his head before she'd even finished. "Not gonna happen."
"Aw, come on, admit it. All that snarling and fighting between the two of you is foreplay. You might like it better than you think."
"It's not foreplay," John denied. "But I'll make you a deal. If he drops by some time, we'll have another threesome as long as you're the one in the middle."
"Not going to argue that." She reached out and brushed the sweaty strands of hair from his forehead.
Just then, from the far side of the house, the doorbell rang. Before they could rise and dress to answer it, a voice floated down the hall. "Hey, anybody home? I'm back."
"Aw, Jesus." John flopped onto the bed, arms outstretched.
"Wow. That's uncanny," Sherrie said.
"He has sex radar. Heard you from miles away and came running," he growled.
Grant appeared in the doorway. "Hi. What's up? Got room for a third?" Sherrie held out a hand, and he came to join them.