Autumn Thorns (23 page)

“He died long before your mother was born. He was found hanging on the tree in . . .” Sophia glanced back at Frank. “What was it, Frank?”

“I think it was 1956.”

“Right—back in fifty-six. Jericho Nels couldn't have killed your mother because she wasn't even born yet.” She brushed back a stray hair that had fallen out of the sleek ponytail she wore. She was a short woman, far shorter than I was, but she looked sturdy and serene, good qualities to have for a chief of police. “I'm sorry to ask you this, but do you have any idea of who might have wanted to hurt your mother? I know you were only three, but . . .”

I held her gaze, feeling some spark of kinship. She policed the streets and I was here to police the spiritual byways. “Yeah, I think so. Check into my grandfather Duvall's goings-on. He knew about this. In fact, I have something at the house you're going to want to check out. I was going to contact you about it but haven't had the chance yet.” I told her about the trunk and the key in my grandfather's dresser. “I suspect Duvall might have killed her and I think he had help.”

Sophia's eyes flared but she remained silent, simply wrote down what I told her. After a few minutes, the coroner and search-and-rescue crew got there. “I have to go get the guys organized. If you want to stick around, you're welcome to, but it's probably going to take the rest of the night. We have to move slowly. I think you should go home and rest. I'll call you in the morning when we know more.”

I nodded. While I wanted to stay, the concept of sitting in the car in the pouring rain, waiting for them to dig up my mother's remains, felt all too grisly. I was tired. I was cold. And I felt numb all over again. I thanked her.

“I think I will go home. Please do call me first thing tomorrow. I'd say nice to meet you again, but the circumstances . . .”

She let out a soft, low laugh that made me want to hear it again. “No problem, Kerris. Bryan, get her home and see that she has a drink and some food. Even though you didn't expect to ever see her again, finding what are likely your mother's remains is bound to hit you on a gut level. Go home, Kerris. Rest. Eat. And sleep.”

As we drove off, Bryan navigating while I rested in the
passenger's seat, I glanced out the window. There, watching over the activity, was the spirit of my father—in wolf form—standing guard over his love one last time.

*   *   *

P
eggin hugged me as she stood next to her car. “Are you sure you don't need me to come in? I can stay.”

I shook my head. “No, I'll call you tomorrow. You have work and I don't want you to be late. It's late enough as it is. Text me when you make it home, though. I know you don't live far, but I want to make certain you're okay.”

She nodded, then—with a wave to Bryan—slid into her car and took off. Bryan walked me inside, taking my key from me to unlock the door. I was grateful we'd left the lights on—I didn't want the Ankou having any chance of returning and harming the cats when I wasn't around.

Exhausted, feeling grimy and soaked, I stood in the middle of the living room. I had always thought that once I found out what happened to my mother, I'd have closure. That I'd be able to move on, to shut the door on the past, but all it had done was to bring up more questions than I had answers for. But now, I felt numb. I wasn't sure if I wanted to cry or just to sleep.

Bryan pressed against my back and wrapped his arms around my shoulders, embracing me as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. “You need a shower. You need a hot shower and some food and something warm to drink.”

“Yeah, but I'm just so . . .”

“I know. I know how you feel. Come, let me help you.”

He took my hand and led me into the bedroom. I was grateful that I had managed to make the bed and tidy up earlier. The new comforter gave a whole new feel to the room, and without my grandparents' things, it was beginning to feel like my own home. Bryan made sure the bathroom light was on, then returned to where I was standing in the middle of the room. He took my purse and the tool bag from me and set them on the vanity. Then he reached for my coat and peeled it off me. I let him, enjoying the sense
of having someone take care of me. He grasped my left arm, raised it out to the side and over my head, then did the same with my right.

I felt my pulse quicken as he moved around in front of me and took hold of my sweater, slowly lifting it over my breasts. My skin prickled as the material—sodden and wet—pulled away from my flesh. My bra was plastered to my body as well, and he quietly moved to the back, unhooking it and then sliding first one strap down my arm, then the other. I shivered as his hand brushed across my breasts when he drew the bra away from my body, setting them to bounce free. My nipples stiffened, hardening as he reached out and lightly stroked them with his fingers.

“Stand still,” he said. The command in his voice caught me by surprise, but I obeyed—I wanted to obey. To find out where he would take me next. “Raise your arms a little.”

He reached around my waist from behind and undid the buttons on my jeans. Then, crossing to my front, he knelt and unzipped my boots, sliding them off as I lifted first my left foot, then my right. I watched him, shivering. Bryan glanced up at me, raised one eyebrow, and held his finger up to his lips. He slowly reached up, then began working my jeans down my legs. The tips of his fingers grazed my thighs and I shifted, gasping.

“I said to hold still, love.” He helped me out of my jeans, one leg at a time, then tossed them aside. With one quick motion, he slid his hands under my panties and pulled them down my legs. I closed my eyes, almost embarrassed and yet so turned on I could barely stand it. He was staring at my crotch, then leaned forward to press a gentle kiss against my lower stomach. I wanted to move, to pull him up to me, but his words echoed in my head and I kept still as ice.

Bryan stood, walking around me, assessing me. “You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you, Kerris? Breathtaking. You have an inner glow that lights up your face and body.” At that he stood back and held out his hand. “Time for a shower to warm you up.”

I slipped my fingers into his and let him draw me into
the bathroom, where he turned on the shower and motioned for me to test the water. “Is that warm enough for you?”

I held my hand under the spray. The water cascaded over my knuckles, warm and inviting. Turning back to Bryan, I saw that he was stripping. He held my gaze as he yanked his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. The light of the bathroom shone through the rising mist from the hot shower, reflecting on his chest. His shoulders were broad, and he was muscled and strong. I liked that he had chest hair—not an overgrown amount, but enough to feel like I was snuggling against a man. Six-pack abs rippled out, narrowing into a tight waistline. A smile began to steal across my lips as I watched him reach for his belt buckle.

“You like to watch me?” The corners of his lips tilted into a teasing grin.

“I think I could get used to this, yes.” My heart began to pound as he kicked his jeans off, revealing a pair of black Puma leisure briefs. The waistband rode low on his hips, covering what needed to be covered without the bulkiness of boxers. And yet they weren't cheesy—nothing about Bryan had struck me as tacky or cheesy or anything but complex and slightly exotic.

I couldn't tear my gaze away as he slipped his fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and began to slide them down over his hips. As he tossed them on top of his jeans and straightened up, I restrained a whistle. But . . .
Oh Mama
, I was a lucky woman. Bryan was ready, erect and strong.

“In the shower, woman. Now.” He pointed to the shower stall and I stepped in, with him following me. I started to say something but he murmured “hush” and spun me around so that he was behind me and I was facing the spray of lovely, soothing warm water. The chill began to seep out of my bones and the images of the past few hours started to fade in intensity as he reached around me for the shower gel. The next moment, I felt him lathering my back.

His hands were strong, but not rough, as he soaped up my back, sliding over my skin with a firm touch. I leaned against the side of the walk-in shower, resting my head
against the wall, as he pushed close, his hands traveling down my body to sweep over the curve of my ass. He knelt, running the lather down first one leg, then the other, then came up between them with his fingers, teasing me—massaging my inner thighs, but never quite reaching their goal. I moaned as his hand cupped me, his arm sliding between my legs as he soaped my pubic hair.

“I'm glad you don't shave it all off. I want a woman who
feels
like a grown woman.” His voice was thick and hoarse. But before I could squirm under his touch, he was standing again, pouring more gel into his hands. He turned me around, pushing me back against the shower wall. I was beginning to pant, breathing heavily as he rubbed the gel into a lather and began to massage my breasts.

The water was beating down on us, hot and steamy. My hair was plastered to my skin, to my face, as I let out a short cry when he pinched my nipple. Another moment and he took hold of the hand shower and unhooked it from the wall. He held it up to my breasts and turned it on, so that the spray of water hit me full force, stinging a little but also enlivening me. I gasped again, as he brought it down, grinning, to between my legs.

“Open them, love.” He arched one eyebrow, cocking his head as I obeyed, standing spread-eagle. “Now put your hands on my shoulders.”

I did, holding tight as he brought the hand spray down. The water pulsed against me, a wash of sensation dragging me under. He circled it, pressing it close to my body so the continual throbbing of the droplets against my sex made me ache. I tried to push hard against it, but he used his strength to keep me from pressing too close.

“Not yet . . . not yet.” Laughing, he closed in, fastening his mouth against mine while he kept the body spray in place, driving me further under the wave of desire that threatened to overwhelm me. His kiss wasn't gentle this time, but demanding. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and he lifted me off the ground, bracing me against the wall.

Then the body spray stopped and the shower head took
over again, pulsating down on us full force as I wrapped my legs around his waist. With one finger, he encircled my clit, as his tongue probed between my lips, meeting my own. Just as I thought he was going to enter me, he pulled back, leaning against the wall with his hands, bearing down on me.

I opened my mouth but before I could ask why he had stopped, he sat me down on the built-in bench and pressed against me, his mouth gaining purchase on my breast. As he sucked, his tongue circling round and round the nipple, driving me into an aching mass of knots, he cupped the other breast with his free hand, massaging, pressing, kneading it hard enough to almost hurt.

I slid my hands around his back, stroking the broad muscles, wanting relief, feeling raw and exposed, and like a bomb, the fuse was burning but no explosion. Caught in the energy, I lunged forward and caught his shoulder, licking the fresh, clean skin and then biting him—not enough to draw blood but enough to make him growl. He brought his head up, gazing at me, and his eyes were clear crystal now, ringed with black—the way they had been when he was in wolf form. He let out a low snarl, but it was a challenge, love-play, not a warning.

“I'll meet your challenge and raise the ante.” I pushed him back, so that he was on the floor of the shower. All the while the water was pouring down on us, a shower of warm rain. I straddled his calves. Then, leaning forward, I inched up his body, my breasts rubbing against him, till I was face-to-face with his cock.

He was strong, and wide, and I longed to feel that girth inside me, expanding me wide, stretching me out. I reached out and stroked the length of him with my fingers, grasping the head firmly. He gasped and propped himself up on his elbows, the water streaming down his face.

“I want you,” I whispered. “I want you so bad I'm jumping out of my skin. But I need . . .” Damn it, how had we not thought of this in the beginning?

But he just nodded and within seconds was on his feet, stretching out his hand to help me up. Without a word, he
turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. He pulled a bath sheet off the towel rack and wrapped me in it, then bent over to retrieve something from the pocket of his jeans. He held up two condoms, winking at me. I laughed, flushed and hungry for him, my nerves on fire to the point of where it felt like I'd burst if I didn't come.

I led him into my grandparents' bedroom. My bedroom now, I thought. And what better way to christen it than . . . I finished toweling my hair, then crawled onto the bed and pushed down the comforter. As I stretched back on my side, propping my head up with my hand, Bryan stood by the side of the bed, his gaze running up and down my body.

I blushed. I was hardly model material, but the look in his eyes said that to him, I was beautiful. I could read it as clearly as I could read the book sitting on the nightstand. Never wavering, he leaned down, put one knee on the bed, and began to crawl toward me, a feral and passionate light flickering in his eyes. Responding to the energy, I shivered, rolling onto my hands and knees. He circled me, his face inches from mine, the muscles of his arms rippling under his weight.

“You know that once I take you, you're
mine
? You know that you will belong to me, and I to you. If we mate . . . once we mate . . . our pact is binding, daughter of the Phantom Queen. Shapeshifters mate for life, unless something horrible happens.” His words sounded like a ritual, like a test.

My breasts rose and fell slowly as I felt him circling me with his power, weaving a tapestry of magic around me.
The magic of mating, the magic of the dead, the magic of those who would guard against it, the magic of those who guarded the guardians.
He was my sentinel, he was my protector. He was my warrior, my soldier, a son of the Great Mother Shapeshifter.