Unbound (3 page)

“
G
lory
!” Sara’s voice.

Glory shifted out of her ivy form and left the private garden and her memories of Dane. She glanced at a white rock, marbled with green and gray streaks, then pushed the sadness away.

“How was the shopping spree?” she asked, though she didn’t really need to ask; her cousins were laden with shopping bags.

She adjusted her rumpled clothing. Shifting certainly did make it look like she’d been in a wrestling match. “Took you quite a while in town.”

Not that I’m complaining.

She’d enjoyed her time alone.

“Shopping was great! Sorry we took so long there’s a new Dane Snow movie out. We had to see it. Just had to.”

“The people at the theater were talking about him. How he’s a hometown boy or something.” Mary blushed.

Someone has a crush.
Glory fought the pang of pain. She remembered when her own reaction to Dane was the same.

She didn’t have the heart to tell them he was all that and more… more as in he’d break a girl’s heart.

Like he did mine, without as much as a goodbye.

Bitter much?

Yeah, maybe. So what?

She hated how her inner monologue always went. She wanted to be mad at her ivy for leading her into that love, but knew she couldn’t. She’d jumped in without reservation; it wasn’t her ivy’s fault. Glory had fallen for Dane the same way her ivy had for his snow leopard.

Sara clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. She dropped her hand. “His uncle is dead.”

Glory did a double take. “Frank Forester? Dead?”

“That’s what they were saying. And that there’s to be a reading of the will,” Sara continued as if Glory hadn’t interrupted.

“And they think that will come into town for it,” Mary added.

“I bet he’ll just send his agent or his lawyer.” Glory took the bags from her cousins’ hands and helped them carry the merchandise inside.

“Where are you and Perry going to live?” Sara asked. “Has he decided? Has he said?”

“Live?” Glory set the bags down. “Maybe, we’ll live right here.”

Mary giggled. “Glory, be serious.”

Sara joined her in the merriment. “He’s practically ivy royalty. He’s not going to want to live in a cabin in the back woods of Indiana.”

More laughter.

Sara’s and Mary’s voices faded into the background. The only thing Glory could concentrate on was the idea that Dane may return. It was as if she was in a vortex where sound and light vanished and she was spinning, deeper, and further into the tunnel’s void and the only thing penetrating the dimness was one repeated theme: Dane was coming to Woodland Creek.

A hand around her bicep jarred her. “Did you?” More shaking. “Did you ever meet him?

She shook her head, knowing damned well that wouldn’t clear it. “Who?” Had they moved on or stayed with the Perry Moore topic?

Oh, God. What if Perry is here and Dane is here…

Why would Dane be here? He’d walked off without so much as backward glance, never checked on her, never. Not once.

Who gave a damn if he was in town? She was promised to Perry.

And did it matter if she bonded with Perry?

Why am I so dead set against Perry?

“Well? Did you? Did you ever meet Dane?”

She shook her head, it would be easier that they think she hadn’t. Then she was instantly struck by remorse. She hated lying. “Briefly. Once.” She spurted the words out, sounding much like an engine that didn’t want to start.

“How—”

A knock sounded at the door.

Glory sang silent praises the interrogation of her having met Dane Snow was being interrupted.

She looked at her cousins. They looked at her.

“Did you order anything to be delivered from town?”

“No.” Both girls said simultaneously.

Glory opened the door.

A man in a suit stood there, a hat in one hand, a manila envelope in the other. He glanced at the envelope and read from it. “Glory Aleman?”

She nodded. “Who wants to know?”

“I’m Randall Shelby. Your presence is requested at the reading of the will of one Francis Evan Forester.”

There must be a mistake, why would I be expected at Dane’s uncle’s will reading?
“What? “Why?”

“Miss Aleman. I’m merely delivering the request.” He pushed the envelope toward her. “Here it is in writing. As the late Mr. Forester’s attorney, I’m paid to make sure you know you’re to be there.

“Why? Have you read the will? Why?”
God.
Her voice sounded so small and tinny, like one of those old-time radios.

“Miss Aleman, please be one of the parties present. It’s in your best interest.”

D
ane and Randall Shelby
were seated in the breakfast nook of Dane’s late uncle’s home.

Dane took stock of the room. It really hadn’t changed in the decade and a half since he’d stayed with his uncle. It was as if frozen in time.

I’m sure lots of things in Woodland Creek are that way.

A part of him wanted to go to the secret walled-in garden. The other part of him wanted to run away from the pain of this place as fast as he could.

He pushed his coffee mug aside. This was the third cup he’d had. Dane looked at his late uncle’s attorney in disbelief.

“I can’t believe you couldn’t handle this without me. My attorney could have come.”

“It’s in the will Mr. Forester. Your uncle made it conditional. You had to be here,” Mr. Shelby said.

Randall Shelby was an octogenarian human, his faded blue eyes covered with the film of age, as some human eyes tended to. This was a problem shifters didn’t have, since they were granted longevity by their shifter powers. Mr. Shelby adjusted his tie, pulling on it to the left then the right, as if he weren’t quite accustomed to wearing one. He picked up a stack of papers from the table.

“Fine, already, can we get this started?”
Every moment I’m in this fucking place brings Glory to mind. The heartbreak I must have caused her in her short life.

“As soon as all of the parties are here.”

“Parties? Like who else? The sheriff? The coroner?” Dane had no experience with will readings; no clue what or who to expect.

“Not exactly.”

“What would have happened if I’d sent my attorney instead of coming myself?”

“You’d have forfeited any and all claims to his property in Woodland Creek.”

Woodland Creek. Why the hell didn’t I just do that? Why am I so hell-bent on keeping this property?

He knew why. One reason only.

Glory. And all the memories he had of her. The property would be demolished to put a development in or an amusement park. The lake he and Glory had swam in would be ruined by some developer or another putting a golf course in.

The fields they’d roamed… torn up and turned into a concrete something.

Yeah, there’s no way I’m letting that happen. Not to my memories. They are all I have, even if I don’t ever return here.

“So who else is coming?”

Mr. Shelby looked up from the papers, stood them up on end, then tapped them on the tabletop to make them even.

Dane’s fuse was running short. He rose from his chair far more loudly than he’d intended to.

Resembling insect feelers more than human hair, Mr. Shelby’s white brow cocked a notch.

The doorbell rang.

Dane whirled around. “About time,” he muttered.

The sooner we get this show on the road, the sooner I can get the hell away from the memories of what I did, what I could have done, and what I should have done.

He opened the door with a yank.

A funnel cloud sucked him into a vortex.

This can’t be.

The ghost of Glory, except it wasn’t a ghost, was it?

It was Glory. In the fucking flesh. The woman he’d known and loved and…

He shook his head, fruitlessly, as if that would clear it. He stared at the vision in front of him.

Still the same dark vibrant hair, the same green eyes that pulled him into a place where they shared a life.

Except not right now.

Those eyes glared at him with fury, their depths lit with a golden glow — a combination of her ivy and her fury.

He wished his lungs would work, he needed air. The burning consumed his chest the same way the grief of knowing she was dead had for all these years.

His snow leopard was making a sound that Dane would have sworn was purring, only he knew his feline didn’t purr.

What the fuck?

His nerve endings played havoc on his body and mind, sending message after message that conflicted.

He swallowed, over and over.

“Glory.”

She took a step back, as if two feet between them wasn’t enough. “Dane.” Her voice was laced with vitriol. She gave him a tightlipped smile. “I’m here to see Mr. Shelby.”

Dane stepped to the side to allow her space to pass.

She walked past him, her pulse beating a fast tempo.

His own heartbeat settled in on hers and matched it,

He inhaled deeply, sucking in as much air as he could.

Big mistake.

Big fucking mistake.

What he pulled in was her essence. The scent of her hatred for him. And something else. Another emotion lingered in her scent — the aroma of her desire.

She might hate him, but a part of her still wanted him.

His snow leopard’s purring sounds turned to chuffs of satisfaction.

Yeah, well, just because you think her ivy still wants you, don’t forget her human hates us,
he reminded his leopard.

His leopard snarled an argument back.

Dane shut him out, not willing to pay attention to his feline anymore. It would be folly to do so. He could tell from her expression and her scent that there was no hope for redemption. She was bound and determined to hate him.

That didn’t stop him from appraising her curves as she walked away. The way her hips swayed under the sundress, the way the fabric clung to every curve, reminding him of the heavenly body beneath the material. A body that was meant for him.

Used to be meant for me,
he reminded himself.
Used to be.

He heaved a sigh out as quietly as he could. A large exhaled whoosh of breath that pushed his hope out along with the lungful he’d taken in.

Now to find out what the hell my uncle had in mind when he had that will drawn up.

And to see how Glory fit in.

G
lory’s hands were shaking
. Her heart palpitated in her chest. Her body was covered in a film of sweat.

He’s here. He’s actually here.

And he had the nerve to look her in the eye and not say a word of apology for breaking her heart. For not being there for her when she lost her family.

How could he look so good? How could he possibly look better than he did on the screen? The rugged planes of his face that had haunted her nights had nothing on the real thing. The way his eyes gleamed, the flash of blue in the gray depths was something she’d never seen on the camera. The only time she’d seen that was when they were together.

The blue of his snow leopard. She knew what the leopard was doing. It was reaching for her ivy. It was trying to reestablish the bond they’d had once.

As soon as her ivy had tried to respond, she’d shoved her ivy back as far into the recesses of her mind as she could. There would be none of that.

His chest was wider. His torso narrowed to a
V
that showcased abs, even beneath a black T-shirt. Dane’s muscle pushed the sleeves out, forcing the fabric to wrap around flesh banded with steel.

Where is Mr. Shelby?

She’d be damned if she was going to ask Dane. She’d find out on her own. She had nothing to say to him.

“Mr. Shelby?”

“In here, dear.” The older man’s voice called to her from the direction of the breakfast nook she’d sat at with Dane when they’d been younger.

Keeping her eyes focus in front of her, not looking around, not wanting to sink into a vat of memories, she made a beeline for his voice.

She strode into the room and found him rising to his feet.

Mr. Shelby held out his hand. “I’m glad you could make it.

She shook it, noting that his was warm and her own must have felt icy. As icy as the coating that surrounded her heart.

“I’m not sure why I had to be here.”

“Well, it’s the conditions of Frank Forester’s will. And I’d like to know that I did my best to fulfill his final wishes.”

She nodded, but the whole time her senses were tuned into Dane, behind her, approaching, his footsteps silent in his snow leopard stealthy way. She made to take a seat but found the chair being held out for her by Dane.

Glory had one brief second to weigh if she wanted to be a bitch and move to another chair or fake graciousness and accept his offer for a seat.

That’s all I’m accepting.

His fingertips brushed her arm as he pushed the chair in. She jerked away reflexively. Her skin was on fire with the heat a thousand suns where his flesh touched hers. Glory ran her fingers through her hair, feeling that it must be springing into the curls it was wont to yield to when she didn’t indulge herself in hours of taming the auburn mass.

She studied the table’s woodgrain pattern while she waited for Mr. Shelby to say his piece. Then she could get the hell out of here. She had no business being here. She didn’t know what he meant by “it’s in your best interest.” But she did want to know.

A cup of coffee was set in front of her. She nodded her thanks, recognizing Dane’s fingers. His hand. The scar over the knuckle on the middle finger. They’d been together when he’d earned that scar.

He’d cut his hand when he’d punched a tree in anger, on a different day, the day he’d told her was his father’s birthday. She knew that scar too well. She’d been the one who’d doctored it.

“So,” Dane’s voice huskier than it had been when they’d seen each other last. It was deeper even than it was in the movies where he played an action figure, super spy type. “What was it that my uncle wanted by having this…”

When Dane didn’t finish his sentence she looked up at him.

Dane’s eyes were on her. “This reading.”

“I have two letters. Both identical. He wanted them to be read at the same time with both of you in the same room, or not at all.”

“And if we hadn’t agreed? If one of us wasn’t here?” Glory had to ask.

“Then neither would see it, and Frank’s property would be turned over to a developer.”

Glory gasped. She’d thought Frank Forester loved the property. “What in the world would possess him to do that?”

“I’m instructed to read it aloud.”

“Uncle Frank seems to be a control freak, right about now.” Dane’s tone was agitated.

“Perhaps you should let me finish first, young man. Just because you are a shifter doesn’t mean you know everything.”

Glory bit back a sound of surprised.

Dane’s eyes narrowed the slightest bit. That was his only reaction to the statement the older man knew he was a shifter.

“Oh yes.” Mr. Shelby nodded. “I know. And I knew about Frank, and all of you. There are some humans who know about shifters. Some humans mean shifters no harm, the others, those are hunters. To be avoided at all costs as they know how to subdue and incapacitate a shifter.” Mr. Shelby took a loud sip of his coffee. “Are we ready?”

Glory nodded. When Mr. Shelby didn’t begin, she looked at Dane expectantly.

He was unmoving.

“The sooner you let him start, the sooner I can get out of your hair.”

Forever.

Again.

“Ready,” Dane said, but he shook his head, as if denying something.

Denying what,
she wondered.