Jane Davey's Locket Page 8

  The door opened to show him leaning on the wall across the hall. He was dressed in those shorts he hated. The collared shirt he’d mentioned. His hair somewhat brushed but with great flow on the sides.

  It brought out the naughty. “You look like a very handsome yuppy about to bust out of his clothes.”

  He tugged at the neckline of his shirt. “I am pretty sure it’s choking me.”

  “Pussy.” Softly said. His lips quirked.

  “You look beautiful.” He practically purred the words, and heat suffused me.

  “Thanks.” I glanced down at the floor, at his feet, my feet.

  He chuckled. “Since when are you shy?”

  Since when indeed. My chin snapped up. “This feels weird.”

  “Did I get the wrong size?”

  I shook my head. “Not the dress. It’s perfect.” As if he knew exactly what would suit me.

  “Then what’s wrong?”

  “It’s just… I’m nervous?” It came out almost like a question.

  “So am I.”

  “No way. You’re like Mr. Cool and Composed.”

  He grinned. “Inside, my heart is pounding. I half-thought you wouldn’t be here. Or that you wouldn’t answer.”

  “I’m not a coward.”

  “I know you’re not. But you and me—”

  I interrupted with a shake of my head. “There’s no you and me.”

  “You keep telling yourself that.” His phone went off. An angry Flight of the Bumblebee symphony bursting from his pocket.

  “Aren’t you going to answer?” I asked as he ignored it.

  “It’s my sister wanting to know where I am and commanding me to move my ass.”

  “The one getting married?” My eyes widened. “Are you late?”

  He had the laziest smile on his lips as if we had all the time in the world. “We’re fine. I made sure I came to get you with plenty of time to spare.”

  “Afraid I’d need convincing?” I teased.

  “More because I knew this would happen.” He reached for me and drew me close. “I’ve wanted to repeat our kiss all day.”

  “That wasn’t a kiss,” I protested—weakly, I should add.

  “Are you sure? Maybe we should try it again.” The words hotly brushed my lips, and yet I was the one to close the distance and press my mouth to his.

  An instant jolt of…just about everything. I clung to his mouth, my hands flat on his chest, his arms around me, holding me close. The pure maleness of him surrounded me, and I savored it. Ran my hands over the sculpted hardness of his muscles. Felt him shudder at my touch. Heard the soft hums and groans. I affected him. There was no doubting the heady knowledge of realizing that I could make this man want me.

  He went to his knees with a moan. “Fuck me, we don’t have time for this.”

  “Pity.” I glanced down at him, my panties really wet, my body throbbing. Everything in me wanted to reach for him.

  His phone went off again. An even angrier bumblebee.

  “We really should go,” I murmured.

  “I know,” he sighed. “But I really don’t want to.”

  I stepped away from him. “Are you sure you still want me to come?”

  “Yes. No,” Oz growled and raked his fingers through his hair. “I can smell you.”

  “Thanks.” A wry reply.

  He made a sound. “No, it’s not bad. It’s good. Too damned good, and I don’t want to share.”

  Jealousy. It shouldn’t have been sexy. I melted a little bit more and just made it worse. Oz’s nostrils flared, and he grabbed for me, only I danced out of reach.

  “You don’t have time for this.” I waggled my fingers, sluicing a cool shield of magic around me.

  He blinked. “Your scent, it’s gone. How?”

  “I’m a witch, remember?”

  “You can just turn it off?”

  “Not exactly off. Just contained so no one else can see or smell.”

  He stared at me. “You’re still aroused?”

  I nodded.

  He leaned his head back, drew in a deep breath, and shuddered. When he looked at me again, his eyes had a primal gleam to them. “Let’s go before Jellia hunts me down and guts us both.”

  Good thing I’d made that shield thick because putting my hand on his arm felt way more intense than it should have.

  We soon ran into people going in the same direction, all of them giving Oz a wide berth. He paid none of them any mind, but he did look at me often.

  “You kept your hair down.”

  “I did.”

  He hummed.

  I secretly smiled.

  A large ballroom had been given over to perform the ceremony. Space was needed for the hundreds of guests. Way too many bodies crammed into chairs.

  “Are those all family?” I hissed.

  “Friends, too.”

  “It’s like half the ship.”

  “A third,” he admitted. “There’re three more weddings happening after this. None to any more of my sisters, I should add.”

  We got more than a few glares and stares as Oz escorted me to a spot near the front—which I escaped as soon as he left to move to a place close to the back. As if I’d let him put me out there so prominently. It was one thing to feel stuff for him, another to tell anyone else.

  I might have moved, but the seat I chose still gave me an excellent view of him.

  Despite his feelings on khaki shorts and collared shirts, he looked good, his broad shoulders stretching the fabric, his legs muscular where they emerged from the cuffs. Yet it was his expression that struck me most.

  There was nothing concealed in it. Not at all. Oz stared at me.

  For the entire ceremony.

  And stupid me, I stared back. How could I not? Something was forming between us. Something electric and tangible. I’d almost call it magic, except that was impossible. A witch didn’t have the power to spell a shapeshifter.

  But perhaps he had some animal magnetism capable of melting me because as the captain asked the happy couple to repeat the vows, I could hear myself saying them in my head. Even more disturbing, I could have sworn I heard Oz reciting them, too.

  And when the captain said, “You may now kiss the bride,” I yearned for Oz’s mouth. I could have sworn I heard him growl from way at the back.

  The newlyweds embraced, and the audience cheered as they ran back down the makeshift aisle with Oz stalking behind them, his intent gaze making me tremble.

  He was totally going to kiss me. In front of everyone. And I was okay with it.

  Damn it, I wanted it.

  If only my arm weren’t suddenly yanked.

  My grandma hissed. “What are you doing, Janey? It’s time to get ready.”

  For a moment, I was confused. Ready for what? This wasn’t my wedding night.

  And it never would be with Oz.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as Grandma tugged me from the main room into the elevator.

  “Where do you think?” she said with a snort, and I finally realized that she wore a robe. The elevator stopped at the very top floor, and the doors slid open. As she stepped out, Grandma’s robe hit the floor, revealing all her naked glory—which had lost its wrinkles and presented perky boobs. She said, “The solstice party is about to start. Get undressed, and quickly. We mustn’t be late for the devil.”

  11

  Oz: The moon made me do it.

  Jane left before I could reach her. Exited before I could kiss those perfect lips and find out if she, too, felt the strange connection between us. An impossible link.

  A lion shifter and a witch, it shouldn’t happen—especially to someone in my position. Yet I couldn’t help but want her.

  Need her.

  The very idea sent a chill through me, especially since our earlier conversation about fated mates. I’d downplayed the concept, partially because I used to believe that it was a huge pile of shit.

  An irresistible force that made you want s
omeone so badly, you thought you’d go crazy? A need that almost hurt?

  Stupid, right?

  So why was I starting to understand it?

  And why with Jane? The last person I should feel it for. My family would never stand for it. The pride might very well banish me in shock.

  How important was that to me?

  Looking out over the gathered crowd, I took stock of the most intimate portion of our family pride. We spanned the country and even parts of the world. Not as many as you’d expect. Low birth rates and those breeding outside our lines diluted our genes. As a strong male, and an important one, a proper match was expected of me, even in these modern times.

  But I chafed at the restriction, and I choked in this shirt. I undid a few more buttons. I wasn’t alone. The moon outside called us. Teasing our inner beasts.

  My lion paced inside. Ready for a wild run. A chase.

  The hunt… I already knew I wouldn’t be able to resist tracking Jane.

  The party got loud as the booze flowed from fountains, literally. My cousin Jeremiah had his face under one of the layers and was drinking to the chants of, “Chug. Chug. Chug.”

  People began drifting outside, lured by the moon, which rose full and plump in the sky.

  My mother, who’d spent most of the reception regally nodding and smiling, proud of Jellia’s match, joined me.

  “You’re not dancing,” she remarked.

  “Not drunk enough,” I replied. It should be noted that even wasted, my dancing wasn’t something anyone should ever attempt.

  “Hard to get drunk if you don’t have alcohol in your glass.” She indicated my water.

  My lips quirked. “Oops. Thought it was rum.”

  “You seem preoccupied. Is everything all right?”

  “Just waiting long enough to be polite before I go for my moonlight run.”

  “Is that all that’s perturbing you?” Mother arched a perfectly contoured brow. Blond, like the rest of her. I got my dark hair from my father. He died when I was young.

  “What makes you think there’s a problem? I’m having a great time.” Not a lie. I was when I spent time with Jane. Speaking of which, I wanted to get going before the new owner of the locket ran into her. “Think I’ll take a stroll on deck.”

  I went to move past my mom when she pounced with a low question, “Who is the woman?”

  “What woman?” I played dumb.

  As usual, it didn’t work. “The one you were ogling during the wedding like some randy teenager.”

  “Just a witch.” Who set every one of my senses on fire.

  “Just.” Mother repeated the word, imbuing it with so much meaning, I almost blurted out all the shit roiling through my mind and heart.

  Blathering would only get me hamstrung. “We met on board. I needed a date.” I shrugged.

  “I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with her.” That translated to: your sisters tattled on you.

  I’d have to tell Mother something. Give an excuse as to why I’d been shirking my family duties. “Jane’s got a problem I’ve been helping with.”

  “I’ll bet you have.”

  A grown man, a fierce lion, and yet I still blushed at the innuendo. “It’s not like that.” Not yet. But I had hope. “She lost something, and I’m helping her track it.”

  “And that’s it?”

  “What else could it be? She’s a witch.” And a person. And a woman. I had a hard time trying to shove her into just one hole. She was the sum of many things. Most of which I liked too much.

  “You know,” my mother said looking at my sister twirling in the arms of her new husband in a dance that had her smiling, “things are changing in the world. Practices once thought taboo are becoming more accepted. The mixing of ideas and bloodlines is producing interesting results. Why, even ancient rivalries are engaging in truce.”

  “And?”

  “And, did you know that a long time ago, witches and shapeshifters used to mate?” She cast me a sly glance.

  Since I knew she wanted a reaction out of me, I remained still as stone. “Why did they stop?”

  “The usual. Lies. Misunderstandings. Jealousy. It started a feud, which spanned centuries.”

  “I thought the reason it was forbidden was because we’re not compatible.” A lie, because I knew that Jane and I would be explosive in bed. It was other things that weren’t possible.

  “That incompatibility thing arose because witches are magic, and we are the opposite of it. But it can happen with some help.”

  “I don’t know why you’re telling me this.” Another lie. My mother appeared to be giving me permission.

  “You like the witch.”

  “I do.” A soft admission. “However, don’t worry, I’m aware of my duty.”

  “Being with a witch won’t prevent you from performing your duty to the pride. Or are you planning to be negligent?”

  “Of course, not. But what of continuing our legacy?” It had been drilled into me since I was young that I owed a duty to my ancestors.

  My mother freed me from that promise with one statement. “The family name is secure.”

  “Meaning?” I thought I got the gist of her words, I just didn’t quite believe them.

  “Follow your heart.” With that, she left my side.

  Holy shit. I stood statue-still as her permission to explore things with Jane filtered through my dumbfounded brain.

  She’d just removed one of the biggest obstacles in my way. Now, there only remained one.

  Jane herself.

  I had to find her. But first, a tribute to the only goddess a shifter believed in.

  The moon hung low in the sky in all her glory. Shining like a beacon, it called to me. It was something no shifter could truly resist. And I was no different. My clothes were shed, and my body began to bulge.

  In the beginning, the first time the animal breaks free, the change hurts. The reshaping of bones and flesh, the sudden spurt of fur…it’s savage, violent, and painful. Then, as it happens over and over, the agony you once dreaded turns into euphoria. By the time I had finished shifting, I was in the throes of ecstasy and roaring to the sky. My four paws hit the deck, and then I was off. Running with family, friends, feline shapes that I knew well. Then there were other guests.

  Wolves sprinted with us, howling and yipping as they raced. Even a dragon joined the fun, swooping across the moon, holding a wing outstretched and trumpeting loudly—Look at me!—doing it over and over, seeking attention despite the fact that he looked nothing like a bat.

  There were no trees or parks for us to race through, but the decks provided a track with obstacles that we barreled through and around. Lounge chairs acted as springboards. Railings were vaulted. Any who didn’t wish to be trampled knew better than to step outside on a moonlit night.

  I started out running with giddy abandon, enjoying the stretch of my legs, the crisp new scents. Perfumes and musk, the smell of a fire burning, and…

  Jane.

  A whiff of her scent was enough to halt me dead. I lifted my head and inhaled deeply, ignoring the cub that slammed into my backside. He bounced, and the rest of the pride flowed around me. My head angled upward as I traced the origin of the smell. I had to go higher.

  A lion excels at climbing, and I soon reached the topmost deck, which proved busy this moonlight-filled night. And not just for shifters.

  A bonfire burned brightly at the farthest end, propane-fed but with some added herbs to make it smell good—and give a little buzz. The flames licked high, the glow of them red and orange, illuminating the witches dancing around it.

  Naked.

  Nudity was a fact of life for shifters and didn’t really draw my attention much. Seen one naked body, seen them all—some bits scarring a boy for life.

  However, I’d never seen Jane naked. Imagined, yes, but in the flesh… I found myself transfixed.

  Her crazy, curly hair bounced as she leaped and flowed in the witchy circle. Her li
mbs were perfect, the skin smooth with youth. The shape of her ideal. Her grace hypnotic.

  Jane might be acerbic in words and manner, but her dance proved a thing of agile beauty. It mesmerized me, enough that I padded toward her. But I didn’t interrupt.

  There was magic in her movements. A spell created by the weaving of the undulating bodies and swirling hair. I sat outside the dancing circle. I knew she saw me. Her gaze sought mine each time she came around, her eyes bright, her skin glistening with a sheen of sweat.

  Lucifer rose for a minute in the flames. “That’s it, witchies! Dance, dance, dance for the devil. But don’t touch. The wife is liable to send a storm to sink you if you try.”

  Jane paid the devil no mind.

  She only had eyes for me.

  Because she’s mine.

  And when the dancers spun away from the flames, moving off into the shadows, Jane came for me, hips swaying, her smile enigmatic. She crouched by me and stroked the fur between my ears.

  Yes. Yes. I thought it and rumbled it, my head spooning into her. Nothing like a good scratch to make a big kitty purr.

  “I can’t believe I’m stroking a pussy instead of a man,” she murmured. But her statement held amusement.

  I chuffed. It wasn’t by choice that I remained a cat. I’d given in too fully to the moon. Her heady magic still ran through me, locking me into this shape for a while longer. I didn’t really mind. There was something peaceful and right about having my head in the lap of this woman.

  “Times like this, you make it very hard to remember who I am,” she murmured. I almost wondered if she knew she’d admitted it aloud.

  Did she think I didn’t understand? I was fully aware of everything. Understood all too clearly what I’d not seen before.

  This was the woman for me. The only one. The female who consumed my mind. Who’d stolen my heart. Even if my mother hadn’t granted permission, I doubted I could have stayed away. Jane tempted me even more than the moon.

  She is my mate.

  A yawn cracked her jaw, and she wiggled until she lay partially splayed atop me. “It’s like sleeping on a warm rug.” She buried her face in my fur.

  Anyone else, I’d have tossed off and eaten. I’d eat Jane soon, too, but in a way that would have her screaming my name in pleasure. Then I’d take her. Claim her. Make her mine.