The Jaguar's Romance Read online

  He had to make a decision—to charge Blood as a man, or as a jaguar. The big cat had the best chance in taking Blood out. However, if the man got a shot off, Oscar might remain a jaguar forever.

  “See, even if through some miracle you survive this night, your triumph would be muted if, say, you had to spend the rest of your life with one eye.” Blood angled the gun at Thorn’s face. “Silver wounds don’t heal. Best doctor in the world might take the little bullet out, but your eye wouldn’t heal back. Or maybe your ear. You could spend the next hundred years deaf.”

  Oscar raised the net until his legs were free. There wasn’t time to think. Whether he lived or died, spent the rest of his days in only one form, the one thing he must do was free Sally from this monster. He planted his soles, prepared to launch himself to his feet.

  A drop of sweat glistened on Thorn’s forehead. His eyes were locked on the CO2 pistol.

  “So if you don’t want a permanent injury from this pretty toy, I suggest you grab that lead and drag your pussy friend out back.” Blood’s voice went hard. “Do it now, shitbag.”

  Thorn threw Oscar an apologetic look before pulling the lead. The weighted rope again tightened over Oscar’s legs. Slowly, warily, Thorn got to his feet. Oscar’s weight was no burden to the big man. In a moment, he was whirled around and dragged through the house toward the back door.

  “I hate getting sweaty and dirty,” Blood said, gun still trained, “so I hope you won’t mind digging your own graves.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Billy owned a stupid car. It was tiny, painted magenta and poison green. The massive spoiler made her think the car might tip backward. Despite oversized tires, fiberglass skirts dropped nearly all the way to the ground, giving the impression that the vehicle was a bright snail. The back seat was filled with home stereo speakers. When she pressed the unlock button on the fob, a light show ensued. Purple hover lights beamed from beneath while the interior glowed with a galaxy of LEDs.

  For a split-second, Sally considered giving Billy back his keys and making for Ripple as a bear. Still, she didn’t know what the situation was. Whatever it was, arriving naked was probably not a good idea.

  Sally cranked the engine, hearing a mechanical fart from the packed muffler. A second later, the sound system kicked in with an explosion of beats that made the seats vibrate. She fiddled with the glowing, dancing stereo control until she finally turned it off.

  Luckily, Ripple wasn’t far. She backed out of the parking space, each bump causing the lowered vehicle to scrape over the blacktop.

  “Whatever,” she said, rocking her way to the highway.

  Her turn took the crappy car all the way to the shoulder before she could straighten out. Gravel spitting, she floored it. The speedometer needle crawled toward the speed limit. “This thing is ugly and uncomfortable,” she muttered to herself. “But at least it handles like shit.”

  Hoping she could keep it on the winding road, she kept the pedal down. It was only twenty-five minutes or so to Ripple. Okay, maybe half an hour in this dog. Even if Billy called the cops on her right away, it was a big, empty county. It would take a while for a patrol car to spot her. If she were lucky.

  Given the high profile of the vehicle, and the fact that she told Billy exactly where she was headed, Sally made straight for the Squirrels Nuts. She thought again about the doors in the cellar. Even considering them for a moment brought a bright pain in her head that made her eyes water. She remembered Iwalani asking where she and Oscar were when they were making love for the first time. And the look Oscar gave her. Now she understood. The attorney had shark senses, but even she could not detect their presence when they were in the cellar. That was where Oscar had to be.

  Despite abandoning her in the woods (even if he had a good reason) and leaving her in the dark, Sally couldn’t deny that she was in love with Oscar. Maybe theirs was only a short-time affair, but short or not, she wanted him. He said he wanted her. That was a good enough start, right?

  She was pretty sure pieces were flying off the car as she banged and dipped into the parking lot. Without slowing, not that the car went that fast, she rolled behind the bar. Parking by the path to the farmhouse, she considered her options.

  Sally needed her bear senses. Without them, she was practically blind. Iwalani and Felicity thought that Oscar was in danger. Sally sucked at danger—but her bear was pretty good at it. Still, she hated being naked in front of people. It wasn’t like she could keep her clothes in her mouth.

  She had an idea. Sally stripped down, which was quite a chore in the closed car. Then, she buttoned the sleeves of Oscar’s trench coat together. She slipped her head through the arms. Not sure if there was enough room for her bear-sized neck, she stepped from the car. The pizza had given her the energy to shift.

  Thrumming with power, growing in mass, she felt her spine straighten, her hands becoming front paws. As she loped into the woods, the coat billowed behind her like a cape. Problem solved.

  Or, at least, one problem sort of solved.

  The big problem was finding Oscar and Thorn. A bigger problem was that they might be with the evil Elathan Blood. What could she do? She raced all out down the path, stopping as the she saw the house. Moonlight made the happy yellow paint a creepy gray.

  Cautiously, she made her way closer. Rising on her hind legs, she looked into the living room window. Nobody there. Silently stalking, she rounded the building. From a side window, she looked into an empty kitchen. The hidden doors to the cellar stood closed. Were they inside?

  Nose in full sniff, ears pricked, she moved to the front of the house. And gasped. The front door was missing. The frame was busted in three places. Creeping forward, she stuck her head inside. She smelled blood, and fear-sweat.

  Following her nose, she found the source of the blood on the floor. Distantly, as if years old, she also smelled Thorn. To the right, a piece of furniture lay dead, one of the legs missing. Oh, this was bad. Closer to the kitchen, she smelled Oscar. It could have been from the times they were here together but Sally didn’t think so.

  Closer to the kitchen, she spotted a cell phone on the floor. She inspected it, recognizing it as Oscar’s. Yet his scent was so faint, she could hardly be sure.

  She moved down the hall past the kitchen, the dining room. At the end, the back door swung in the wind. Oh, no. There was nothing back there. Miles of woods, a few farmers’ fields, a million places to search. If she couldn’t find Oscar by smell, she would have to run into him by chance.

  But wait. She padded across the back porch to the stairs. There was a little overgrown garden in a small yard, a tumble-down tool shed leaning. She could see something in the fallen leaves and in the soil. Sally creaked down the stairs. It was some kind of trail, something large dragged into the woods.

  While not outdoorsy at all, the track was obvious even to her. She followed, sticking to the shadows as best she could. The tool shed door stood open. Was anything missing? Sally couldn’t remember what was in there.

  The drag-trail led through the fallen brown leaves and gold larch needles. Sally tracked along, hoping her anosmia would end and she would scent Oscar or Thorn. But it was her ears that spoke to her. She heard a chuffing in the distance. It was undeniably the sound of a shovel in soil.

  Something being dug up, or something being buried—either way, this didn’t sound good. At a jog, Sally closed the distance. Without her sense of smell, she nearly barreled right into the men in the clearing. She stopped short, hiding herself behind the bole of a tree.

  Thorn stood, shirt off, sheened with sweat and moonlight. Normally, the sight would make her all tingly. But the sight of his torso wrapped in bandages, the creases of agony on his face, and the shovel in his hands filled her with dread.

  Behind Thorn, a man stood with an old-fashioned gun. He was forcing Thorn to dig. Sally froze in place and held her breath as he faced her. The man from the photograph, the man from her worst nightmares, Elathan Blood, com
manded the scene. She was paralyzed until he turned away. The bastard leaned over, inspecting the hole.

  “That’s deep enough.”

  What was going on here? And where was—?

  Then she saw Oscar.

  She missed him at first, because he lay on the ground. He was covered in something—was that a net? Sally knew Oscar was claustrophobic. He must be freaking out. And that trail—had he been dragged all the way out here from the house?

  An icicle of fear pierced her heart even as her brain erupted in fury.

  Blood lifted something. The leg from the broken living room table. He approached Oscar. Low words were exchanged. Thorn tensed until Blood gestured with the gun. The lumberjack took a few steps back.

  Blood raised the club with both hands, ready to bring it down on Oscar’s head. She had to act. Maybe Oscar wasn’t hers forever, but he was hers for now. She loved him, enough to face the horrible man who had tormented her. Sally tore from the trees. With a ferocious roar, she launched herself at the bastard who had caused her so much misery.

  Blood whirled toward the sound. His eyes popped in fear. Shifting his feet, he swung his makeshift club at Sally’s head.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Oscar wasn’t sure which was worse, the undignified drag through the woods, or watching Thorn digging a grave for the two of them. Before, he had nearly freed himself. Now, the rope around his legs cut off the circulation to his feet, and his arms felt like they were in a straightjacket. Thorn looked like he might pass out from the pain of his injuries and his exertions. Oscar only hoped that he would. Of course, the lazy Elathan Blood would probably find a shallow grave just as good as a deeper one.

  He had to plan, to think, but terror rose in him every time he tried to move. The net sliced into his arms, smothered his face. If he couldn’t fight though his fear, he was lost—Sally was lost.

  Snow dusted his soul as Blood called a halt to the digging.

  “So long, Señor Pussy. You don’t know much, but you still know too much.”

  Thorn moved in, but Blood aimed the gun at him. “Back off, fucker. You can yank the gumshoe into the hole after I bust his head.”

  “You really think I’m gonna just stand here and let you bust my head in?” Thorn growled.

  Blood took careful aim. “I was wondering if I should shoot both your eyes out now, or after this motherfucker is dead.”

  “The gun is not accurate, Thorn, just stay back,” Oscar called.

  “Accurate enough to ensure you stay an injured man. One who can’t run away. Stay put, Thorn.”

  Oscar took deep breaths, trying to tamp down the fear. “He must need you as a shifter, or he would have done it by now.”

  “You shut the fuck up. I’m about done with you.” Jamming the pistol in his belt, Blood raised the club in both hands and moved to strike.

  Teeth grinding together, Oscar knew he could not raise an arm to fend off the blow. He could only lay here and let the man kill him. Thorn looked ready to move in, but he was too far away to stop Blood.

  All three turned at a horrific sound. With an animal roar, a bulky shape flew from the trees. A bear. Oscar stared. A bear wearing…

  Was that a cape?

  It could only be one bear. And Sally was charging right into Blood’s strike.

  Thorn shouted and threw the shovel. It smacked into the club enough to foul Blood’s aim. All fangs and claws, Sally rose on her hind legs. The table leg bounced off her shoulder. She was undeterred. Her right paw swiped Blood’s face, knocking him back a step.

  At a run, Thorn reached the fray. Blood butted him in the face with the club. Shouting, Thorn fell into the grave. Sally wasn’t done. Her left paw crashed into Blood’s head, the force driving him to his knees, her claws raking wounds in his face.

  With another hair-raising bellow, she went for the man’s throat.

  Oscar saw recognition in his eyes. Blood spotted the cape. He knew!

  “Sally, shift!” Blood commanded.

  If they got out of this alive, Oscar had much to teach that girl.

  Yelping, the bear backed away. What would the cabrón do to her? “Sally, do not listen! Give him no power!” he shouted. He had to free himself. Struggling was pointless, making the net tighter. He had to relax, give himself some slack. “You owe that monster nothing! You are free to choose—your destiny, your lover.”

  His words proved no use. The bear shuddered, moaned, diminished into a human shape. Sally was at Blood’s mercy. Oscar was shocked and appalled at the man’s control over her.

  The evil man swiped the red from his face, dragging in long breaths. “Okay, bitch. Your timing is near perfect.”

  Sally pitifully wrapped herself in the coat. Oscar’s heart surged. He was able to move his right arm, although he practically had to dislocate his left shoulder to do so. Slow and easy was the key—but he had no time for slow and easy.

  “You can finally finish the job, Thorn. Here, bash his head in. Don’t stop until I say so.” Blood dragged the table leg to him, and handed it to Sally. “You understand, sow?”

  Once he was free, he doubted he could stop himself from killing Blood. Yet even as Oscar’s thumb pressed the catch of the ratchet, it would not give. The rope was just too tight.

  Sally shook, head hanging. She made a low sound.

  Blood thrust the club at her. “You will do what you’re told.”

  She lifted her head. “Why?”

  Gracias a Dios, Sally was resisting him. Oscar pressed his legs as tightly together as he could. It wouldn’t take much to unlock the ratchet.

  “Because I’m your master,” Blood snarled. “Take the club.”

  “Why?” Sally wailed. “Why did you do this to me? Because of you, I’ve frozen to death in the woods, starved to death, I lock myself up when the moon is full--I show up naked all the time! You suck, you fucking dickhead!”

  Her cursing nearly made Oscar pause. But he was too close. Legs closed painfully tight, he managed to shove down the latch. Precariously, he moved his right leg out as he kept a tight grip on the ratchet.

  “I am your master! Do as you’re bid, bitch.”

  “Don’t call me a bitch!” she sobbed. “Why me? What did I do to you? I just want to be normal again. You made me a weird-o! Why?” Her last word broke in a series of sorrowful syllables. Then came the mournful, snotty sounds of full-on crying.

  “You will not cry!” Blood demanded. “I can’t stand to see a woman cry. Stop it!”

  Her inconsolable keening, the hitching gasps for breath, the red, wet face tore at Oscar. Apparently, it tore at Blood as well. It distracted the man as Oscar pulled the bottom of the net open. Wiggling, squirming, shifting, he pulled the rest of it over his head.

  Blood’s empathy was short-lived. Snarling, he picked up the club himself. “I ain’t gonna listen to your blubbering, woman!”

  He raised the club high. Oscar leapt to his feet. He had no feeling in his legs or fingers. Yet he grabbed the weapon from behind before Blood could bring it down. Blood spun toward him.

  “This is how well I stand up to you man to man,” Oscar said through his teeth. With all the strength in his numbed body, he plowed the butt of the club into Blood’s chin.

  Blood’s knees folded. The man crashed to the forest floor face first. Oscar put a foot on his neck, raising the table leg for a killing strike.

  “Oscar, please don’t!”

  He caught Sally’s tear streaked face as she pleaded.

  “Don’t be like him.”

  Oscar hesitated. This man had brought chaos and pain to so many. It would take so little to end it. The look in Sally’s eyes made him toss the club to the ground.

  She leapt to her feet and threw herself in his arms. “I was so scared he was going to kill you.”

  He gripped her soft body to his own. “I was far more frightened that I would never hold you again. I’m sorry I forced you away. It will never happen again. I want to be with you always. Being wi
thout you is the worst feeling in the world, cariña.”

  Bright eyes gazed into his. “Really?”

  “My greatest fear.” His eyes stole to the net. “Even greater than being confined.”

  “But won’t being with me confine you?”

  “I have found that being apart from you is a far greater trap than being with you.” Oscar unbuttoned the sleeves of the trench coat and slipped the garment over her arms. “I cannot be without you, Sally. I am in love with you. And only you.”

  She whispered again, “Really?”

  “Really. We were thrust together for a reason. When I see any other woman, the only one I can think of is you. I love you. I want you.”

  Sally choked back a sob. “Me, too. But—am I going to be ice cream every day? Won’t you want chocolate cake? Or pie?”

  “You are all the sweetness I will ever need. But that trench coat—”

  “I know. Genius, right?”

  Oscar had to smile. “Let’s just say that outfit is turning me on.”

  “I think your camouflage jammies are pretty sexy, too.”

  He covered any further words with a kiss. Her arms tightened around his neck. He merged with her, enveloping himself in her soft warmth. Oscar lost himself in the fire of her kiss. He would love and protect this woman with all his soul for as long as he lived. In love. It was a strange feeling, a little frightening. But it was also the greatest joy he had ever felt.

  Their kiss broke at the sound of a groan.

  “I hate to interrupt.”

  The two of them looked to the grave. Thorn lay at the bottom.

  “It would be cool if you could give me a hand out of here.”

  They heard the wail of sirens in the distance. Sally smacked her forehead. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. The police are following me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight