Authors: Marissa Farrar
PETER HAD DRIVEN the back streets to stay as far away as possible from any more trouble. It meant they’d needed to go around in a circle in order to get to his home in the Near North Side, but they’d had little choice if they wanted to stay away from the riots.
Mia was still shaking from their experience, and she barely even registered the grandeur of Peter’s big Victorian home as he pulled into the drive. He jumped from the car and raced around the car to her side, opening the door for her. For once, she didn’t mind his tendency toward old-fashioned behavior as he took her by the arm and helped her out. Her legs felt like they didn’t belong to her and she was grateful for his support. Together, they walked up the paved drive with its small privet hedges and mounted the five steps that led to the house. Four white pillars held up the porch roof overhead, and a thick walnut front door barred the way. Peter used a key from the chain which also held his car keys and opened the front door, allowing her to go in first.
Mia didn’t even have the head space to
be impressed by his large home.
Instead, she found herself pacing the impressive hall, with its polished parquet flooring, shaking her head, her hands spread out in front of her, trying to make sense of it all.
“I can’t believe what was happening out there. You know this is all crazy, right? I mean, I saw what you changed into, so I know this is real, but that doesn’t make it any less crazy. And those people, all the ones who were attacking the car, those people didn’t even know you were one of them, one of the things they’re ranting and raving about.” In the back of her mind, she was dimly aware that she was doing a little ranting and raving herself.
“People are scared of what they don’t understand,” Peter said, watching her, the hint of a smile on his normally serious face, as if he found her outburst amusing.
“Well, they shouldn’t be scared of you! It’s the other crazies out there who are causing the problems. It’s the regular humans. I mean, you,” she gestured toward him with hands that trembled and flitted, like two agitated birds, “are probably one of the most steadfast, unthreatening people I know. Why would anyone want to hurt you? You’re gentle, and strong, and ridiculously handsome …”
She realized what she had said and drew in a sharp breath. “I mean—”
But he didn’t let her finish. A couple of steps placed him directly in front of her. Her breath stuttered in her lungs, not knowing if she was supposed to be inhaling or exhaling. Her head spun, her heart thumping, with anticipation of what might happen next.
He reached out and touched her chin, gently lifting her face so those serious gray-green eyes bored into hers. Her lack of height meant she needed to crane her
neck, so he ducked his head, pressing a firm, warm kiss to her mouth. She kissed him back with a passion that surprised her. Their teeth bumped, and they smiled against each other’s lips.
Her hands found his shirt, and she pulled at the buttons, opening his shirt, suddenly desperate to touch his skin. The heat of his body made her wonder if he had a fever, but then she remembered what he’d said about shifters having a higher body temperature than regular humans. A spattering of soft, dark hair created a triangle between his nipples. A line ran down from his chest, between the valley of his abdominals to his navel and then disappearing down the waistband of his pants. She felt like the trail of hair was enticing her to follow.
One of Peter’s hands was at the back of her neck, his fingers raking through her short dark hair. He shucked the shirt from his back and broke their kiss to pull her t-shirt over her head.
How long has it been since I’ve been naked with a man?
Too long.
She felt a little self-conscious, standing in front of him just in her jeans and bra, the lacy material doing little to cover the curves of her breasts. She moved to cover her chest with one arm, but Peter caught her hand, pulling her arm down to her side. She caught his eyes, how they’d grown darker, an intensity bubbling behind them like storm clouds building.
“Don’t cover yourself,” he said, his voice hoarse with desire. “You’re perfect.”
From out of nowhere, everything she’d been through over the past few days, from the abduction to the attack downtown, swept over her. It was as if finding herself in Peter’s arms had subconsciously allowed her to release her emotions.
“I was so frightened.” She was on the edge of tears, the world trembling before her.
He pulled her to him, her cheek pressed against his chest as he smoothed her hair beneath his palm. “Shush, don’t be. You were safe. I could never let anything happen to you.”
With a smile, she lifted her face to him. He kissed her again before taking her by the hand and tugging her into the nearest room—which turned out to be the living room—and toward the couch.
He gathered her against him, capturing her mouth once more. His kiss was deep and sweet, his tongue dancing with hers with almost expert teasing. Had she ever been kissed in such a way? The heat of his skin seared her flesh, and with one quick movement he’d unclasped her bra, allowing it to fall from her body onto the floor.
Both their hands were at the buttons of each other’s pants, desperate to remove the clothing still dividing them. They kicked off their shoes and helped each other with their remaining clothing. Naked, Peter took her by the hand once more and tugged her down to the couch so that she straddled his thighs. She reached between them, cupping his hard length in her palm. His skin felt silky and hot, and she stroked him, making him groan and lean his head against the back of the couch,
exposing the sharp line of his jaw, the delicate skin of his throat, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard.
Mia ducked down and ran her tongue across his jaw, licking and nibbling, tasting the faint hint of whatever aftershave he’d put on that morning, the more masculine, earthy taste of his skin. She worked her way down his body, stopping briefly at his nipples to
lave them with her tongue, before lowering herself back off the couch so she knelt on the floor. She opened her mouth and took him between her lips, drawing him in. Peter groaned again, one arm flung across his eyes, as if he needed to hide his desire from her. He thrust his hips to meet the movement of her mouth. His other hand lightly touched the back of her neck, encouraging her.
His breath quickened and he pulled himself straighter on the couch, touching her shoulder. “Mia, stop. You’re going to make me …”
She lifted her mouth from him. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t ever say sorry for doing that. I just want to be inside you.”
He pulled her up with him and carefully reclined her on the couch, as though she were fragile and he thought she might break. His mouth found hers, while his left hand skimmed down the curves of her body, stroking her skin, the heat of his fingers making every nerve ending tingle. His hardness pressed against her hip and she twisted to meet him.
Something dawned on her, and though she didn’t want to spoil the moment, she couldn’t keep quiet. “Wait, we need …”
“Oh crap. Hang on.” He put out a hand. “Do not move a single inch.”
She grinned up at him, languidly reclined, already relaxed from his attention.
Peter returned clutching a condom, quickly tore the package open and sheathed himself. He reclaimed his position, lying beside her on the couch. His fingers cupped her cheek and he kissed her again, long and deep. Mia parted her thighs and wrapped
her ankles around his hips, pulling him closer. It only took a slight shift in position and he pushed inside her, filling her so fully, so sweetly, she thought she might lose her mind. All thoughts of her earlier fear and the troubles in the city vanished from her mind.
Whatever else happened, she knew one thing—the only place she wanted to be was in Peter’s arms.
NOT WANTING TO hang around at Blake’s for his return, Autumn had made her way home, deliberately keeping her head down to avoid the crowds of people who seemed determined to cause trouble. Now, she sat on her couch, remote in hand, surfing through the mindless channels droning on the television. A fat couple sat on stage shouting at each other, while the host made a half-hearted attempt to calm them down despite his obvious delight in the drama …
click
… a commercial for a shiny new car, the vehicle winding down a suspiciously empty mountain road …
click
…
Her heart clambered into her throat, her eyes wide as she leaned forward, almost leaping to her feet.
Chogan was on television again. His strong-featured, handsome face was rigid with anger as a redhead reporter—one she recognized—threw questions at him about spirit shifters being a danger to humanity.
Shit.
For once, she was glad Blake was out of the city. He’d go mad when he found out Chogan was on live television talking about shifters again. If he were here right now, he’d be storming out and going straight to the news channel. She realized he wouldn’t find any sign of Chogan back at the reservation. Unless he got an idea about Tala’s location, it would be a wasted trip.
Her eyes flicked to the bottom of the screen, and she sighed. The show wasn’t live after all, but a repeat of a broadcast shown earlier that day. Chogan may have been at the news channel studios a few hours ago, but, considering the grilling the young woman was putting him through, she doubted he’d be there still.
An unexpected pang of longing tightened in her chest. She wished she could see Chogan, talk to him about his plans, try to reason with him. But such a thing was impossible. Blake had been unable to find him, so what chance did she stand? She was alone.
Autumn sighed and threw down the remote in frustration. She wished she could do something useful—she hated sitting around waiting for everyone else. She needed her mind to be busy.
Her gaze shifted over to the bookcase and the piles of books she’d collected over the years, most of which she never seemed to have time to read. Now, it seemed she had time, but she’d never be able to focus enough to get into a story. She wished she still had a job to go to. The government had paid out her contract, despite her only having worked a matter of days, so money wasn’t a problem. But she wasn’t used to not working and it was driving her crazy. Even between contracts, she’d normally be researching a new position or speaking on a panel somewhere. Because she thought she’d be busy for the foreseeable future working with Dumas, she’d cleared out her schedule.
If only Blake hadn’t left her behind while he went to find Chogan. If he’d taken her along, she’d have been more than occupied. She hugged herself at the memory of being encased in his big strong arms, pressing her thighs together in pleasure at the recollection. He made her feel tiny and delicate and taken care of, a sensation she hadn’t experienced in a long time.
You didn’t feel so taken care of when he abandoned you in the middle of that riot to save the other shifter,
a little voice chirped inside her head.
And now he’s gone off and left you again.
The sensation in her stomach shifted from pleasure to unease. She tried to dismiss it, telling herself she was reading too much into things. She didn’t think she had misread how he acted around her, how she felt when he held her in his arms, what she read when he looked deep into her eyes.
But he still left you …
Yeah, maybe Blake did have some commitment issues after being hurt so badly in the past by his girlfriend and cousin, but his recent actions didn’t mean anything. Did they?
To distract her thoughts from their destructive line, she turned her concerns toward Chogan. She hoped the other shifter hadn’t gotten himself in trouble. Despite what he’d done—exposing shifters—Autumn didn’t want anything bad to happen to him. He’d shown her some moments of kindness, tenderness even, and she’d spent a night clinging to his neck while he, in wolf form, ran her through the forest and away from danger. She might have only known him a few of days, but since he’d vanished, he’d left a wolf-shaped hole in her life.
And now with Blake gone, that made two such holes.
The burning desire to work struck her again, leaving her edgy and frustrated. One particular project burned at her, nagged her, refused to leave her alone until she knew the answers, and that was the very same one she’d been employed by Dumas to figure out. She glanced down at the inside of her wrist, at where the green-blue veins tracked a pathway beneath her pale skin. She wanted to find answers, discover if the story she’d been told by Blake’s father about her coming from the original line of people who’d changed shifters was true. Did her blood contain properties that could turn ordinary men into shifters? It still seemed so far-fetched, despite everything that had happened. Part of her didn’t want to believe it, while the other part of her needed to know. She only knew of one place where she’d be able to go and continue her work.
Her father’s house.
Internally, she wrestled with herself. How much did she want to continue with the project versus having to spend time with her father? He’d barely made contact with her, despite knowing the bare bones of what she’d been through. Government officials had gone to his home when Dumas had still been spouting the cover story of Blake having kidnapped her. The men had gotten no answer when they’d pounded on his front door, and so broke it down. They’d found Professor Anderson hard at work in his basement, so absorbed in his latest project he’d not even heard his door being smashed in. Her father didn’t watch television and rarely picked up a newspaper, so he hadn’t even heard about the apparent kidnapping. He’d been unable to help them locate her whereabouts.
When Autumn had returned home, he’d called to ask after her, briefly muttered something about her being more careful about the company she kept, and then quickly hung up. The call had taken all of about two minutes.
Not exactly the concerned parent figure she’d always longed for.
Despite her reservations, her need to work won over. Autumn got to her feet. She needed to get hold of a couple of things before she went to her father’s house. Though she felt bad, she reasoned with herself that she was only doing what was necessary to get answers.
AUTUMN GRABBED A cab across town. She found herself gripping the inside of the door, her neck craning, mouth open as she witnessed the results of Chogan’s actions. The protest she’d gotten involved in that morning seemed to have grown legs. Normally rational people had caught the fever.
Sheets hung from the windows of apartments, trailing down the red brick of the multi-story buildings declaring ‘Were-freaks Go Home!’ As they slowed in traffic, she caught sight of a man with a bearded face and clothing that hung from his skinny frame, standing on a box on the street corner. The man lifted both hands to gesticulate into the air as he shouted. Something about the small group of people gathered around him made her hit the button to lower her window and his voice filtered through the noise of traffic to reach her ears. “The end of the world is upon us. God has forsaken us to leave us in the hands of these monsters. I’ve seen them for myself—hideous beasts bigger than you’ve ever seen before, with glowing yellow eyes and a taste for blood. Hear me now! The devil will take over the earth …”
The man’s voice faded as the traffic crawled forward and they moved out of ear’s reach.
The wail of a police siren overtook it. Autumn didn’t think she was imagining the increased presence of the Chicago Police Department. Was this all in reaction to what Chogan started? She thought she preferred when everyone believed the whole thing to be a joke. She sensed a seismic shift in the beliefs humanity had held true for as long as civilized society had existed. How would people react if the existence of shifters became a widespread fact rather than fiction? Would they see more of what she’d already experienced and what the city had already seen—more protests, riots even, building to panic and warfare?
She realized the driver had said something, and she pulled away from the window and the scenes beyond. “Sorry?”
He made eye contact with her in the rear view mirror. He winked at her and grinned salaciously, his gaze traveling as far down her body as the limitations of the mirror would allow. “I asked what you made of all this nonsense about people turning into animals.” He snorted at the end of the sentence to make sure she’d not missed his derision. Clearly, this guy was still one of those who thought the whole thing to be a fraud. She wondered how much longer his attitude would last.
“I’m a scientist,” she said without looking at him and without answering his question. “I believe in facts, not speculation.”
He arched an eyebrow, still looking in the rearview mirror at her, and a flash of irritation swept through her. “A scientist, huh? I’d never have guessed.”
“No? Well from the way you’re checking me out rather than watching the road, I wouldn’t have guessed you to be a qualified driver.”
His cheeks flushed and he at least had the grace to look away, focusing back on the road.
What the hell is the matter with people?
Perhaps she’d snapped because Blake had left her angst-ridden, and the troubles in the city made her jittery. But she knew her sharpness was also due to her anxiety about spending time back in her father’s presence again. She didn’t think he did it deliberately, but whenever she spent time with him, she ended up getting hurt.
The cab pulled up alongside the curb outside of her father’s house. Without exchanging another word, she paid the driver and climbed from the vehicle. She trotted the couple of steps up to the front door, gave the wood a couple of perfunctory raps with her knuckles, and then, without waiting for an answer—she’d be waiting for something which would never come—she used her key to open the door.
The house contained the same musty, unaired scent as always, a faint hint of chemicals residing beneath. She could barely think of this place as the warm, welcoming home she’d lived in before her mother died, though those memories were faint now, mere snatches of time that could just as easily have been a dream.
Autumn walked down the hallway and stopped at the door beneath the stairs which led to the cellar. She opened the door and shouted down, “Dad?”
As she expected, no answer came, though she didn’t doubt she’d find him in situ. Where else would he be? Her father got so involved in his work, he quite literally shut out the world around him, not noticing anything, even his own daughter. She sighed and got her feet moving down the stairs.
Has he always been like this?
Her mom had been pretty and outgoing. Why would she be interested in a man who would barely have noticed her? Perhaps she’d been attracted to his fiercely intelligent mind, but Autumn suspected her father simply hadn’t been like this before her death. She was sure she had memories of him playing with her when she’d been small, carrying her upside down, teaching her how to catch a ball, reading to her at night.
The laboratory her father had built was as well-equipped as anything she would find in a research facility. A fume cupboard was fitted into the far corner. High tech microscopes and computers sat on the wall-to-wall workbenches. Bottles and jars filled with numerous different colored liquids lined the shelves. Other, more toxic chemicals were kept behind cabinets with glass doors. An island stood in the middle of the room with another microscope which her father was bent over.
“Dad?” Autumn said again.
Professor Anderson lifted his head from his work and turned to her, blinking behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “Autumn? What are you doing here? Is everything all right?”
She stepped down the final stairs to bring herself level with her father. “Yes, everything is fine. I wondered if I’d be able to work alongside you for a few days.”
He frowned, deepening the lines along his forehead and between his pale blue eyes. “Work here? Why?”
“I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
“What are you working on?”
“It's the last thing I was working on in my old contract, something I didn't get to finish.”
“Yes,” he said, a hint of irritation in his tone. “But what exactly are you working on?”
Autumn hesitated, unsure of how much she wanted to share with him. The problem was he would only need to peer over her shoulder a couple of times to figure out the basis of what she was trying to achieve.
She chewed her lower lip for a moment and then relented. “I'm trying to learn if blood can act as a catalyst to cause a gene mutation to ... spread.”
“What kind of mutation?”
“A
n amino acid base pair substitution at position five of the polypeptide chain. The adenine-thymine pair for guanine-cytosine.”
He frowned. “How would that kind of mutation spread to other cells?”
She glanced away, feeling uncomfortable. “It produces a recombinant protein which causes the chromosomes to divide and replicate.”
“During sexual reproduction?”
“No. In every cell.”
“Impossible. Such a thing would create a completely different organism.” He stopped and stared at her. “Whose blood are we talking about here?”