Southern Shifters: Scents and Scentability (Kindle Worlds Novella) (3 page)

His cat raked his claws down the inside of his skin. The animal’s response to the woman defied all personal experience. “You don’t have to thank me. I was just doing my job.” Another lie but, as before, she didn’t call him on it. A grimace betrayed her reaction, however. His reply stung her. The cat clawed him again.
Dammit
. “But you’re welcome. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Smiling faintly, she stole another glance at him. Before she could speak, the electric kettle began to hiss. Striding across the room, he turned it off and popped the lid before the whistle could shrill. The last thing he needed was the piercing noise in his ears. He located her preferred mint and chamomile tea and loaded three spoonsful worth of the herbs into her silver tea ball . After settling the sealed ball into her cup, he added the boiling water so it could begin to steep. He completed the final step, setting a lid over the top, before he returned his attention to Darcy.

Her beautiful lips parted in surprise. “How did you know to…?”

“Make a cup of tea?” He didn’t have to feign a hint of a mocking tone. Thankfully, he didn’t have to admit observing her little rituals over the last few days when she wasn’t shuttered away in the basement doing whatever scientists did. Her tea, however, he’d scented on her breath the first day and every night since when he let himself in after she went to sleep. He ate, restocked the fridge and slept on the sofa with a good angle on the door and the loft room above.

She slept like the dead, too sound to notice anyone breaking or entering. So he stayed where he could protect her.

“You’re annoying.” The tart returned to her tone and he grinned. He liked her fighting.

“Thank you,” he said with an incline of his head. “I try.”

“No, you succeed.” Instead of maintaining her distance, however, she brushed past him to reach her teacup. The contact sizzled over his skin. His cat wanted to lean into her, just to see what she would do. Bennett settled for resting against the counter, deliberately placed so she’d have to continue touching him to finish her tea.

“Am I really so bad?” What the hell was he doing?

“Yes.” Her eyes glittered when she cut a glance toward him. “I wanted to be certain you were all right. I’ve barely seen you since we arrived and the only way I knew you were even alive was the coffee cup in the mornings and the fresh meat in the cold box.”

His cat preened. She’d noticed. “You’re welcome.”

Instead of pouncing on his tease, she rolled her eyes then gave him a bump with her hip. “Could you scoot over?”

“I’m fine. Finish steeping your tea.” Tilting his head, he traced the line of her flush as it raced down her neck.

“I’m not.”

“Sweetheart, you wanted me in here. I’m here. The question is, do you want me to stay?”

The cat inside him batted at the kindling of her excitement. Running his tongue over his lower lip, he could almost taste her in the air as he had every time he came into the house. He preferred to sleep with his head on the cushion she sat on most often.

Not withdrawing, she stared at him once more, a question in her expression. “I don’t understand you.”

Dipping his head to narrow the distance between them, he almost couldn’t help himself. It was like tormenting a prey he’d already captured. He’d never been one to play with his meal—and his cat rumbled in agreement. Yes, they wanted to play with her, taste her, and make a most pleasurable meal of her. Too bad she wasn’t on the menu.

“Oh!” Her gasp of pleasure halted him in his tracks. With one palm against his bare chest, she held him hostage. The contact sizzled. Her hands were warm, calloused, and used to work, yet they were satin to him. “You’re purring.” Then she curled her fingers and stroked along his sternum. “And you’re so soft.” A fine pelt of hair covered him, but it was so white it was barely visible.

Not entirely certain of how to proceed without giving into the temptation she offered, he kept himself still. Was she even aware she was petting him? “I’m a leopard, sweetheart. I purr.”

“I didn’t realize you would—you know, really purr, like a cat.”

“You’ve never met any of my Clan have you?”

“No,” she whispered, continuing her exploration across his pecs. All the blood in his body seemed to pound southward. “Are all of you this exquisite?”

The question doused him in ice water. Snarling, he caught her wrist in a gentle grip and removed the contact. “You won’t be touching any others to find out. Drink your tea. I’ll cook.”

The last two words neutered his growl. Her pupils had dilated at the sound, but she didn’t flee. Courage came in a lot of forms. He didn’t know much about her Clan either, other than most didn’t trust them. Their mental abilities were sharp and, while he possessed some minor telepathy, it was usually restricted to his own kind—and then even more limited to other leopards. He had no trouble speaking to her.

Her gift, he was certain, allowed the connection. Shaking his head, he slammed the brakes on that thought. They weren’t connected. Didn’t need to be connected. Venison in hand, he returned to the electric stove and fired it up. “You can go back to work, if you like. I’ll call you when the food is ready.”

It was the closest he would come to an apology for his rejection of her touch.

“I’m sorry for touching you. It was out of line.”

“It’s forgiven.” The gruffness in his tone didn’t seem convince her. She chewed on her lower lip while cradling the teacup in her hands. She did that a lot, the cradling and lip chewing. Maybe it was her tell for deep thoughts or uncertainty.

Is it really forgiven?
Her mind brushed his, and he paused in freeing the meat from the paper he’d wrapped it in the night before.

“Don’t.” Then, facing her, he met and held her gaze. “You didn’t want me to keep touching your mind on the trail. We can talk like people. Stay out of my mind.”

“I wouldn’t intrude, I promise. I think it’s terrifically rude.”

Maybe it was, but that wasn’t his problem. His problem was the cat liked the way her mind touched his. The cat wanted to tug at the thread and roll around until they were hopelessly bound in it.

That was the absolute last thing they could do. “Just don’t.”

“All right.” She sucked her upper lip between her teeth and his cock seemed to pulse at the idea of doing the biting himself. “Will you really stay in the cabin tonight?”

Bennett sighed. He had been, only she hadn’t been aware of it before. “Would you feel safer?”

“I’d be happier knowing you weren’t dying of hypothermia.”

Chuckling, he returned to unwrapping the meat. “I’m a cat, sweetheart. This weather is like manna to my soul.” He preferred the higher elevations, the colder, more brutal weather, and he loved to run through the snow where he could vanish. His territory had once been vast then it had been razed by bombs and warfare between two forces who didn’t even know he existed.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Damn, she apologized a lot. “And stop saying you’re sorry.”

Mystified, she blinked at him. Even her scent carried confusion to occlude the hints of desire from earlier. A good sign, he hoped, though it didn’t make her any less delectable. She had fantastic curves, wide hips and a sturdiness which suggested he could ravish her and she could take it.

“I made you sad.”

“Not at all. Life is sad. It’s whether we choose to let it defeat us or not that defines us. Go work. I'll call when dinner is ready.” Then before he could help himself, he pressed a finger to her lips to stop the biting and the talking. He liked both too much. “I promise. Now go.”

Surprisingly, she obeyed him. The door to the basement closed and Bennett scowled. She’d done as he asked, so why did he wish she’d given him lip instead? How the hell was he going to survive eleven more weeks with her?

W
eek Two

T
ime with the subject increased
. A winter storm has settled into the mountains. It snowed relentlessly for three days—this after a storm which left three feet on us before a couple of days of sunshine turned it blinding. I was actually grateful for a new storm. My companion enjoys the deeper snow. He leaves everyday to hunt and always returns before it grows too dark for me to see. I suspect he does so for my comfort and not his.

W
eek Three

W
ill it ever stop snowing
? The third experiment to eliminate all scent traces has shown some success; however, it also demonstrates some acidity. During a test this morning, I burned the skin on my arm. The inflammation also led to swelling in my wrist and elbow. I successfully treated with analgesics to reduce the visible effect before my companion returned from his hunt. I will have to increase the pH to bring it to a more alkaline level. Uncertain of the effect it will have on the results. Companion asked me three times if anything was wrong, and the flaring of his nostrils suggests he noticed something amiss with my scent. With his continued presence, I should test the attractant and repellant, but I am not convinced it would be wise until I’ve found a way to eliminate my scent in order to undo any potential hazards.

A
fter setting her pen aside
, Darcy rubbed at the back of her neck. The notes cover the last two weeks lacked any of the texture from her actual days. She’d decided against documenting how they spent their evenings. Bennett, it turned out, seemed to enjoy preparing meals. Since she only knew the very basics of searing meat and boiling vegetables, she hadn’t been opposed to him taking over meal duties.

Glancing at the ceiling, she considered her options. Her forearm still hurt from the burn she’d sustained. The skin remained discolored, so she’d tugged on a sweater earlier. The material scraped against her irritated skin, the rasp uncomfortable despite treatment with an analgesic cream. Rising, she stretched. Her back ached and her head hurt. Today, she’d taken a step forward in her research only to discover she needed to backtrack several yards to begin again.

It was the nature of the beast. The hunt for the perfect perfume required multiple experiments, combinations and, most of all, a willingness to be patient. The attractants and repellents were done. They’d tested them independently and, even with their limited olfactory senses, she’d noted distinctive reactions in the test subjects. The attractants heightened sexual proclivities and successful couplings. The repellants drove away potential partners, even when intrigued and stimulated prior to the application.

They had not tested their theories on the shifters. The Council had arranged for her to have the perfect testing field, but Bennett wasn’t a subject, and he hadn’t consented to the arrangement.
Besides, they aren’t fully ready.

Her notes regarding her current issues with removing scents remained accurate. The snowstorm complicated things. The first week, he hadn’t been around so what was the point of the test? The second week, she’d been too off-kilter because of his presence to pursue even limited testing.

Admittedly, his blowing hot and cold concerned me.
She didn’t add the observation to her notes. There were moments she suspected he flirted with her. Other times, he seemed to mock her and shut her down. The desire to pet him, however, proved consistent. Other than pulling her hand off him, he’d made no attempt to touch her in return.

An ache spread out from her core, accentuating another issue. The cat inspired wave after wave of lust for every hour they spent together. Her body’s betrayal had to be reflected in her scent—
yet he does nothing.
She’d seen his nostrils flare on any number of occasions, including earlier when she’d gone up to make her tea and sandwich. Occasionally, their conversations wandered into neutral territory, but only in a limited manner.

I wish we had more to talk about.
A knock on the door startled her from her reverie. He walked like a…
cat, because he is a cat.
If she didn’t want him to keep creeping up on her, she needed to monitor her surroundings better. Yet closing her shields had been practice for all of her life. If she didn’t, she picked up more than a random stray thought. She could be pulled into any number of minds.

But his is the only mind close to me.
Flipping her notebook closed, she turned off the light on the desk and left her samples in their containment jars. She still needed to figure out how to alter the pH, but she could do it the following day. Ascending the steps, she gripped the handle and lowered her shields at the same time.

His mind was there, a guarded and carefully walled away presence. Still, she could sense him. Acclimating to the feel of his mind, she didn’t venture too close. Mental signatures were telling, and he didn’t reveal much in his. Giving herself another minute, she reconstructed her shields, so she could maintain the sense of his mind without shutting him out completely.

The work would take longer to refine it; all she had to do was partake of their meal without trespassing on his thoughts. Twisting the handle, she opened the door to find him walking away. He paused and glanced at her, a hint of humor in gentling his fierce expression. What would it take to earn another real smile, one reflected in his eyes as well as his lips?

“I thought perhaps you’d gone back to work.” Awareness of his mind sent a flicker through her. He lied. He’d known she stood on the other side of the door. The insight flashed through her with a surety she didn’t question. Withdrawing a fraction mentally, she tried to erect something of a barrier. She didn’t want to invade his privacy, no matter how curious she might be.

“I’m tired, and I had an idea. I wanted to play out all the parts of it before I left the lab.” All true, even if the idea of keeping track of him rather than letting him scare her regularly had nothing to do with the work she did for the Council. After shutting the door to the lab, she crossed to the windows. What light they’d had during the day seemed to have gone completely.
How late is it?
She squinted through the murk.

“It’s still snowing,” he murmured as he passed her on his way to the kitchen. A stew scent filled the living room, and a fire crackled merrily. He’d lit a couple of the oil lamps. They’d agreed to conserve power throughout the house, using the generator only when absolutely necessary.

Though he assured her they had a good stock of firewood, she didn’t want to tempt fate by losing the access to hot water or heating.

“Have a seat, and I’ll bring you dinner.”

“You don’t have to wait on me,” she admonished, following him into the kitchen. “I feel like you’re taking on all of the labors in the house.” And she’d let him. His presence inside meant she no longer worried about when he would appear or if he would appear. She’d focused on her work.
Not entirely.
He wore a pair of loose, cotton pants and a tank top. Unlike her, who bundled more clothing on with each passing day, he seemed comfortable in less and less.

Petting him revealed the soft pelt all over his skin, like silk and fire. Her sex clenched, and she held her breath. She really wanted to stroke him again, to explore everywhere he had the fine hairs and lower, where she’d glimpsed…

Red flared across her mind’s eye, a clarion of color so hot it scalded her mental landscape. Jerking her gaze from his midsection, she found his blue eyes blazing as he stared at her. The moment their eyes locked however, the red cooled and vanished.

Lust.

She didn’t read emotions, but experiencing emotions caused chemical reactions in the brain, which could lead to affecting neural pathways. The cat liked her. Heat surged through her, and she opened her mouth to ask him why he’d done nothing about their mutual interest. Frankly, she had to have been telegraphing her growing need over the intervening days.

For once though, common sense locked her voice in her throat before she asked the revealing question. Perhaps the reason he’d done nothing was because he wasn’t interested.
Or the simple fact our Councils could very well banish us if we decided to explore.
Precedent existed, and she couldn’t deny the facts.
We’re also a world away from everyone, and they want me to test the attractant on him.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The question pulled her from her internal musing.

“I’m debating the wisdom of exploring our mutual physical interest.” The revelation stilled him utterly. She hadn’t meant to say it aloud. Why did the beast provoke such brutal honesty from her? It was as though the discipline she exerted over her thoughts took all of her energy and left her with none for good judgment where her mouth was concerned.

“There is no wisdom in the two of us fucking, no matter how good it would feel.”
Crude. Shocking.
Yet, she didn’t shy away from the bluntness in his speech. Not this time.

Odd. He’s done this before. Is it meant to distract me from pursuing a subject he doesn’t want to discuss?
The flare of red haze coming from his mind pulsed in time with her heart rate. Or was it pulsing in time with his? Curiosity glided through her. How would he react to her doing the same? “So you’ve already considered the ramifications of bedding me?”

A low, thrumming chuckle as he spooned out the stew into two huge bowls. “Considered the ramifications? No. Imagined sinking my cock into your tight pussy a few times? Yes. Wondered how you would look naked? Absolutely. Imagined you screaming my name as you orgasmed? More than once. Jerked off thinking about you up in your bed?” He paused to meet her gaze, and she held her breath. Every word sent another slice of heat through her.

When he didn’t continue, she had to ask, “Did you?”

“Well, that’s kind of personal.” Slow and purposefully, he stalked across the short distance and held out the bowl of stew. His nostrils flared, and he took a deep breath. “But you like the idea that I might’ve, don’t you?”

So, he
could
scent her desire. A distant part of her mind latched onto the confirmation her experiment to erase her scent failed, and all she had was a burn on her arm to show for it. The rest of her didn’t give a damn. Her core seemed to soften and the heat in her belly began tracing a languorous path through her system. Her clothing seemed too rough and her nipples peaked. Perhaps she should have not foregone a bra, after all, even as much as she despised the articles of clothing.

“I’ve never been so bold as to achieve orgasm simply imagining another person.” She had to take some control back. Accepting the offered bowl, she ran her tongue over her lower lip and flicked her gaze over him. “I’ll test the theory tonight and let you know in the morning if I am successful.”

Pivoting, she walked out of the kitchen carrying her bowl. Proud of the fact she’d managed to do it without stumbling or shaking, she was grateful to slide onto her corner of the sofa. The faintest of quivering kept her cradling the bowl rather than trying to eat yet. Bennett followed her, but instead of settling onto one of the chairs, as had been his habit, he took a seat on the middle cushion of the sofa, facing her.

“You forgot your bowl.”

“I’m fine.” He gripped the back of the sofa, and everything about him seemed to loom toward her. She almost imagined she could feel the heat rolling off him. “You’ve never touched yourself while thinking about a man or a woman pleasuring you?”

Focus on the intellectual aspects.
“No,” she admitted and his raised eyebrows almost made her wish she could tell him otherwise. “I never saw much purpose in the act. Sex is a function necessary to a healthy existence. We all need social interaction. Communication. Occasional touch and stimulation. If I could self-stimulate, it would detract from actual encounters with others.” A solid answer, and one that left him gaping at her, but dammit, her rebellious tongue didn’t stop there. She added, “And, frankly, I have enough trouble working up interest in touching another, so why give myself an out to avoid it altogether?”

His shock turned to laughter and the emotion lit in his eyes. Throwing his head back, he roared with the sound. “Darling, it sounds to me like you’ve been finding occasional touch and stimulation with the wrong men. Pleasuring yourself is fine, feels good, relieves tension. But trust me when I say your pussy would feel a hell of a lot better than my hand, and no amount of jerking off can convince me otherwise.”

Pleasure speared her at the revelation. “So you
have
done it.”

A grunt, then he dropped his free hand onto her knee. The heat in his touch scalded her through the fabric. “Every night for the last two weeks.”

The red haze flushed through her again, as his mind telegraphed with a distinctness she couldn’t miss. Was he imagining her naked right then? Or thinking about what it was like to find release while she slept above? She was. Goosebumps prickled over her arms, and her sex clenched again. Every single description he used stimulated her more than all of her scheduled social interactions combined.

“Then I shall definitely experiment tonight.” In fact, she half wondered if she should skip the meal and go to bed immediately. Her nerves seemed taut and stretched to the breaking point. Could she even eat the food?

“Can I watch?”

She dropped the bowl. He caught it before even a drop splashed on her, and the very real grin she’d wondered about earlier stretched his mouth. The wind howled outside, as though echoing the chaos erupting within her, and she blew out a shaky breath. Her poise fled and along with it her intellect.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea.” She hated the tremor in her words.

Narrowing the distance between them, he held her absolutely captive with only his gaze. Since he balanced the bowl, he wasn’t touching her at all. “Why not?”

Grasping for straws, she shuddered. Her shields splintered and the red haze seemed to crawl into every part of her mind, a cat stalking her where she couldn’t escape. Was he invading her mind? Or was she doing it to him? Years of discipline had her fighting for equilibrium. If she weren’t careful, she’d be in his mind to verify he meant these teasing words and wasn’t just playing with her like some hapless amusement.