Claws Bared Read online

Bran stared at the thick calloused fingers for a long, heart-stopping minute before grasping his fist in a tight grip. “Guess we can all learn something from this.” He drew a ragged breath. “My laptop’s in the trunk—he threw it in there. We’ve got Hancock’s notes and I’m sure it’ll lead to Carson at the end of it all. Along with the members of the town council taking the bribes.”

  “I’ll send it to the hotel. If you could send us your notes we’d appreciate it.” The Board member’s eyes flickered to the trail Carson had left in the dirt. “We’ll use it to build the case against him.”

  Bran’s cynical look was brassy and challenge-worthy but McCallum let it pass.

  McCallum glanced at me. “I can’t promise you we’ll mend our ways and all that but I can tell you that you’ve given us a lot to think about.”

  “And a lot to clean up,” I added. “I don’t want anything to happen to Sophia. She might have killed Hancock but it was an honest accident.” I looked down at my own nails, chipped and ragged. “I think we can all understand the rage she must have felt at being betrayed by someone she trusted.”

  McCallum nodded. “We’ll arrange a plea deal; get her a good lawyer. Do right by Hancock’s family as best we can.” A heavy sigh escaped the older man. “We’ll make it right.” He looked at Bran and me. “What can we do for you?”

  “Call Cassie Prosser.” I spoke first. “Give her the story and let her run with it. She deserves as much of the truth as we can give her. Let her break the news about Carson and about the corrupt councilmen.”

  McCallum paused for a minute before nodding. “Agreed.” His lips curved into a smile. “We can control what gets out that way. Good idea.”

  I held back a stinging retort, taking what little success I could get.

  “We need a ride back to the hotel,” Bran said. His hand moved over the razor thin cuts on his stomach.

  I saw him start to wince and then hold back, not wanting to show weakness in front of the Pride.

  Plussey gestured to one young kit. “He’ll take you home.” He paused. “Both of you.”

  It was a question, not a statement.

  I looked around the circle, recognizing some faces from my visit to the farm. Instead of suspicious looks I saw respect—for both of us.

  “Let’s go.” I moved closer to Bran, close enough to grab his arm if he faltered.

  Bran moved away from me and stood up as straight as he could. He strode up to Trace and stared at him, way inside the Felis’s personal space. His scuffed running shoes brushed against the toes of the well-worn work boots as he leaned in, almost touching noses.

  Trace smiled, a knowing smile, and lowered his eyes. His shoulders slumped, giving him a submissive position.

  Bran nodded and reached back for my hand without blinking or looking away.

  I slipped my hand into his and he led me out of the clearing, brushing through the crowd without hesitating.

  * * *

  We rode back to the hotel in silence, the kit sweating buckets as he maneuvered his pickup truck through traffic. He didn’t look at Bran and only gave me a curious glance as we exited the vehicle.

  The hotel clerk was out from behind the desk before we got halfway through the front doors, her distress showing.

  “We’ve arranged another room for you.” She waved down the hallway. “Your luggage has already been moved.” Her fingers trembled. “We’re so sorry.” Eyes wide with panic, she waited for our response.

  Bran smiled and shook her hand. “It’s okay.” He calmed the nervous kit, patting her shoulder. “We’re okay.”

  I chewed on my lower lip, not too sure of the truth of that statement.

  “We’ve placed some supplies in your suite,” the clerk said. “Please call me if you need anything else.” She offered the new cardkey. “Room 111. Just around the corner.”

  Bran nodded and took the room key from her.

  He strode down the hall at a furious clip, pushing me into a trot just to keep up with him. As soon as we rounded the corner and were out of sight of the main lobby, Bran slumped against the wall. He drew short, harsh breaths, one hand pressed over his midsection. The raw skin shone through the tattered remains of his shirt even though the bleeding had stopped.

  “Are we clear?”

  I nodded.

  “Take this fucking key and help me get inside,” he rasped, dropping one arm across my shoulders.

  I felt him collapse against me as we shuffled down to the last door.

  The suite wasn’t exactly Las Vegas-worthy but it beat the small room we’d been in before. The living room table was covered with various bandages and first-aid ointments, the Felis having intimate knowledge of how to deal with claw wounds.

  Bran grunted as I lowered him into the straight-backed wooden chair. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Yes, he was.” I carefully tugged at the remains of his blue shirt. “He skated offside around us while we were at the club waiting for him.”

  “Sophia killed Hancock?” He grunted as the fabric fell away, revealing a series of bruises running across his shoulders. “Don’t panic. It looks worse than it feels.”

  “Sure.” I let the lie alone and poured the bottled water into the empty bowl. “She nicked his throat with her nails. He bled out and Carson tore him up to cover her attack.”

  “Hell of a risk to take.” Bran gasped as I touched the wet gauze pad to the first of the thin scratches across his ribs. “He must have known there’d be an investigation.”

  “Better a Felis investigation that he could steer and monitor instead of Prosser calling in the feds over her reporter buddy going missing.” I winced for both of us as I shifted to another area. “Want some drugs?”

  “I got it.” He snapped the lid off the generic bottle of painkillers and dry-swallowed two pills. “It’s not too bad.”

  “Says you.” I moved up to work on the gouge just above his hairline. “I saw the room. You put up a good fight.”

  Bran touched his left eye and the growing bruises. “I opened the door like a damned fool when he identified himself. Bastard launched himself right at me without warning, slapped the cuffs on and dragged me out.”

  I scowled at the matted hair. “You’re going to need to get into a shower. It doesn’t need stitches but with you rolling around in the dirt it’ll need to be cleaned out.”

  His hand landed on mine, rough and tense. “Join me.” A brush of his fingers across the back of my hand sent goose bumps up my arm. “We need it.”

  There was something in his voice, a connection between us that hadn’t existed before.

  I nodded. “Could use one myself.” My back ached at the sight of the claw marks.

  Bran stood up and started stripping in silence, leaving a trail of clothing on his way to the shower.

  I did the same after rolling up his shredded shirt and jeans into a bundle and tossing them into the wastebasket—they were beyond saving. By the time I got into the bathroom, steam had already started to pour out of the shower stall, the shadowy figure inside waiting for me.

  “So now what do you do?” Bran winced as he reached for the tiny sliver of hotel-issue soap. “What do you tell Jess?”

  “The truth.” I gestured for him to turn around so I could lather his back. “The Pride’s going to figure out how to cover it all up. Are they too integrated with the locals? Hell, yes. Felis on the town council, Felis on the police force—something like this was bound to happen with the opportunity for corruption and to use the family to hide it.” I shrugged. “But that’s none of my business now. My job here is done.”

  “Did you learn anything?” He kept his back to me.

  “I learned that I really, really love French fries in my sandwiches, not on the side.”

  This earned me a snort as he ducked his head under the water. “And?”

  I frowned. “And what?”

  Bran shrugged and reached for the minute tube of shampoo.

  I felt a cold wind wash over m
e. I’d missed something and I wasn’t going to get a chance to guess.

  I washed up as quickly as I could and stepped out.

  “Don’t forget to let that heat soak into your muscles.”

  The grunted reply didn’t do anything to make me feel better.

  I wandered around the suite wearing the thick, plushy white towel, trying to ignore the pair of duffle bags neatly set on the floor. I wasn’t sure if I was about to be thrown out of the room or out of Bran’s life or what.

  All I knew was that for the second time in my life I felt totally alone.

  It hurt.

  “Reb.”

  I spun to see Bran standing there, the cream-colored towel tucked around his midsection. The gashes on his midsection still looked terrifying but at least they’d stopped bleeding.

  “Come here.” There was no mistaking the commanding tone.

  I put my hands on my hips and walked over, meeting and locking my eyes with his.

  “You trying out to be my Dom?”

  “Smart ass,” he replied. A short step brought him closer, our noses almost touching. “Do you have any idea how worried I was about you when I was facing down Carson?”

  I choked back a laugh. “Me? Why the hell would you worry about me? You’re the one who went toe-to-toe with a Felis and lived to talk about it.” The trembling in my voice betrayed my fear. “You could have been killed.”

  “And what would they have done to you if I’d died there?” Bran snapped. “They would have come up with some bullshit story about my death and made you play along for the sake of protecting the family. Hell, they could have kept you here, talked Jess into letting you stay—making you stay to keep their fucking secret.” He rolled up his fingers into a fist and shook it at the wall. “Bastards were so quick to write Hancock off, they’d do the same with me. And with you.”

  “No.” I said the word but my heart wasn’t in it. I didn’t want to begin to go down that path, of helping the Pride not only cover Carson’s tracks but also dealing with Bran’s death. “They would have made Carson pay. The hunt would have gotten him eventually.”

  “Then what? They auction you off to the highest bidder to keep you quiet about me being gone?” The rage in his eyes was building, reaching terminal levels as his voice rose. “Give you to Trace in some sort of arranged marriage to keep the peace between the two Prides? Keep Jess happy?”

  The breath caught in my throat as I realized what this was all about.

  Us.

  Or, to be more precise, the possibility of not-us.

  I reached out and touched his hand, the bruised knuckles still tender from the handcuffs.

  “That’s not how we work. It’s never been that way.” I lowered my voice, hoping to defuse his anger. “Hell, can you imagine anyone telling Jess what to do?”

  Bran’s lips twitched for a second before settling into a thin smile.

  “So this is about us?” I ventured, going out into uncharted territory.

  “It’s all about us,” Bran retorted. “It’s always been about us. I just never saw it before.” His voice dropped down to a whisper. “I didn’t figure it out until I was there with Carson, facing down those claws. I may not be Felis but I realized what you need. What I need.”

  I shook my head, letting the damp blond strands fly free. “I don’t get it.”

  “Right. Let me explain it.” Suddenly he spun me around and pressed me face-first against the wall. My hands flew up, slapping the pale blue wallpaper over my head. “Let me lay it out for you so it’s clear to both of us.” One hand went to my hips and yanked the towel away. “I’m done asking what you want, what you think. I’m telling you from now on. And you belong to me.” His hands settled on my waist, gripping with newfound strength.

  The snarl burst from my throat, unchained. “What?”

  “You belong to me.” His teeth came down on my earlobe, the sharp tug sending my pulse into triple digits. “And I, unworthy human that I am, belong to you.”

  “I don’t...” Confusion buzzed in my ears, threatening to drown out any coherent thought.

  “Shut up,” Bran whispered. His hips thrust forward as his hands pulled me back. “I may not be a Felis but I sure as hell am a man. And you are mine. No one else’s.”

  Teeth moved lower, brushing over the back of my neck. A short nip sent a rush of heat down my spine.

  I gasped as he yanked me back against him again, the towel around his waist scrubbing against my bare skin.

  “You feel what you do to me?” He rotated his hips, letting me feel his arousal. “You know I’ve wanted you since you left with Trace? I wanted to punch him out and throw you down on the bed, take you right there in front of him. Tie the bastard up and let him watch me make love to you hard and long, make you scream over and over again.”

  My cheeks began to burn at the mental image of Bran grabbing me from behind, lunging forward as I gripped the headboard for support.

  His lips landed again on my earlobe, tugging and pulling. “Do you know what you do to me, what effect you’ve had on my life? How fucking lost I was, coughing out mindless pieces of fluff because I didn’t have anything in my life, anything to keep me going?”

  I shook my head, too choked with emotion to answer.

  “Say it,” Bran demanded.

  “What?” The oatmeal formerly known as my mind sloshed around.

  “Tell me I’m yours. Tell me you’re mine.” His fingers tightened on my hips, guaranteeing bruises. “Tell me we’re going much further than just ‘hanging out’ together until someone better comes along.”

  The tension in my shoulders returned. “You know we’re together.”

  “No.” The teeth returned to the back of my neck, sharp and demanding on the exact same spot. “Say it.”

  “I love you.” The words burned my throat, the raw emotion threatening to drown out my sanity.

  “Not enough.” Another nip, this one harder and longer. “Love and devotion. Say it.”

  I tried to move. Bran pinned me against the wall with another long, leisurely swivel of his hips.

  “Say it,” he whispered. “Give me all of you. All of you, all of the Felis in you.”

  The fire was burning me, tearing me up from the inside. Three months and I’d hit the wall. I couldn’t go forward and I couldn’t go back without losing part of myself.

  It was time to make the kill or give up the hunt.

  “I can’t leave you.” It was the best I could muster.

  “Sure you could.” His tongue danced along the tortured skin. “You could walk out of here right now and drive to the airport. Be back in Toronto in two hours. Go home and never have to see me again.”

  “I won’t leave you,” I gasped, feeling faint.

  “That’s good to hear. But not enough.” His lips moved along my earlobe, dropping light kisses. “Say it,” he whispered. “Say it, Rebecca.”

  “You belong to me.” That much was easy to say, easy to devour.

  “And...”

  I closed my eyes and surrendered.

  “I belong to you. All of me.”

  “Yes.” Brandon kissed me on the cheek. “Only yours. Always and only yours.”

  My pulse drummed in my ears, pounding faster and faster. He didn’t move back. His fingers stayed on my hips, locking me in place.

  “You spoke about Felis women scratching their men, putting their mark on them.” I could feel his smile against the back of my neck. “Do the men mark the women?”

  A shiver rocked me from tip to toe.

  “Yes.” I heard the shaking in my voice, unable to stop it. “They do. With their fangs.”

  “Where?” His hand slipped away from my waist. A sharp tug and the remaining cream-colored towel fell around my feet.

  “Anywhere they want.” I was burning up. I was frozen in place.

  “Hmm.” The teeth landed on my back, on the left shoulder blade. “I don’t have fangs but I think I can make do.”

 
The ivory whites closed on my skin, tugging and sucking, the sensation spiking my arousal to new levels.

  “Been a long time since I put a killer hickey on anyone.” The tension increased on the skin, threatening to break it. “I’ll apologize if any of them bleed,” Bran growled in my ear.

  “Right back at you,” I gasped, my fingernails clawing at the wallpaper and my surrender complete. “Keep that first-aid kit handy.”

  “Yes,” the answering purr came, thick with lust. “Now show me what you’re made of, Felis.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lisa Darning looked up from the medium-rare steak and eggs as we slid into the booth beside her. Plussey and McCallum sat on her right, each devouring their own giant slab of semi-raw meat.

  “Got your message when we checked out this morning. Along with Bran’s laptop and my duster.” I waved at the waitress. “Two coffees, please.”

  Bran’s knee nudged against mine. I didn’t flinch. It might have been the only part of my body not aching. When we’d stopped by the hospital on the way to the diner to see Henry, the coroner had given me a curious look while drawing my blood. To say I was walking bowlegged would have been an exaggeration but not by much.

  “No problem. Figured you’d want that back before heading out.” Plussey’s tone was casual, too casual. “We were wondering what you was gonna tell Jess.” Plussey reached for the ketchup bottle. “Just curious.”

  I didn’t buy the gentle words. Whatever I said could come back to bite me, quite literally.

  “I’m going to tell them you fixed things up. The Pride’s safe, the family’s safe and justice has been done.” I eyed McCallum. “Hasn’t it?”

  The waitress arrived with the two mugs of coffee. She dropped a handful of creamers on the table before wandering away.

  “Stanford’s taken Carson into custody for mutilating a corpse and failing to render medical assistance, along with the corruption charges.” He took a sip of coffee, eyeing Bran. “He’s going down for a good long time.”

  I frowned. Felis weren’t known for doing well in prison.

  “We’re figuring he’ll plead out and we’ll work out some sort of probation,” McCallum offered. “After all, he didn’t kill Hancock. Henry says it’s impossible to prove who gave the killing blow so it’s unlikely either of them will go down for a full murder charge.”