Black Beast (33 page)

“I enjoyed having you as a friend too,” she said. “I was sad when you stopped.”

“It doesn't have to.” His mouth moved, as if he was going to say more. Then it snapped shut like a trap. Before she could ask if he was all right, he stepped forward, leaning over her handlebars, and kissed her, quickly, lightly on the mouth. Softly, as if he were afraid she were going to pull away. When she didn't, he kissed her again. Less sweetly and tentatively, this time. Passionately.

Unlike her, he seemed to know what he was doing, and it quickly deepened beyond her capabilities. Then she did pull away and promptly lost her balance. David was fast, catching the base of the handlebars and steadying the bike—and her—before she could topple over.

“Careful.”

She bit her lip. “That's probably a sign that I should go home.”

He nodded, still looking at her in a way that made heat creep up the back of her neck.

“Me, too. But don't brush this off, Catherine. Please.”

“I don't even know what you want!” she protested. “This is the first time I've talked to you in, what, three years? And then you spring this on me? Shame on you, David Tran. And shame on you for thinking that you can win me over with a kiss, like this is some sort of fucking fairytale.”

“I want to start over again. At the very least, I want us to be friends again.”

“Oh?” she said.

“Well, and more—if you let me.”

“Your parents will kill me.”

“I doubt it. I'm more concerned about you'll do to them.”

But he did look worried.

“Why does this have to be so damn complicated?”

“It doesn't. The only one making it that way is you. You can say yes, or you can say no.”

“It's never that simple,” she pointed out. “Everything has consequences.”

There was a pause. She sighed.

“But yes, I think—I would like to give you a second chance. But you have to earn it.”

David grinned and leaned in again. Gently, she pushed him back.

“Hug only,” she said firmly.

She wasn't sure if she'd be able to withstand another kiss. Not if she wanted to use her legs to pedal the bike back home.

Catherine found her face pressed against his chest in a smothering embrace, and was startled by how powerful his arms were.

“Don't ever change,” he whispered, “you incredibly frustrating, horrible, funny girl.”

His chest was broad, too, enough that she could scarcely reach all the way around, and warm.

Really warm.

She snuggled against him, letting her guard drop a little.

It felt…so good to be held. Better than she'd imagined.

Alpha male
, Predator suggested, jumping at the chance to play matchmaker.
Mate
.

Which made her pull away again, nervously. She wasn't ready for that kind of commitment.

David laughed, letting go of her and her bike. And smiled. “See you tomorrow, then—partner.”

Epilogue

Catherine felt euphoric as she biked home, giddy. Bubbles of adrenaline rushed through her veins like soda pop, fizzing up pure energy.

I can't believe I pulled off the heist.

And then, a second later, she corrected herself.

I can't believe
we
pulled it off.

The whole night's events had the surreality of a dream. Even as she sought to recollect them, the memories slipped away from her immediate consciousness, leaving her with a vague series of mental snapshots.

The bike ride over—David startling her in the bushes—Changing into the owl—the kiss—the
kiss—

Her skin was still buzzing pleasantly from David's touch. Her face glowed with heat, to the point where she barely noticed the cold sting of the air as it whipped past.

I can't believe he likes me.

That, more than anything, made her wonder if it was a dream. Not because she had trouble believing that he found her attractive, but because it seemed too neat. After three years of silence, David waltzed back into her life to declare his undying devotion? In what universe did that happen?

It was one of those rare moments in life when everything seemed to come together. Synchronicity, it was called. AKA, life-isn't-such-a-bitch-after-all.

It was a fucking human's wish fulfillment fantasy.

She was almost clipped by a car full of assholes speeding in the 25-MPH zone.
Where's a human cop when you need one?
The headlights were off, and the car was painted a dark color that made it blend right into the shadows. Only luck had kept her from becoming windshield splatter.

Dick-stains.
Catherine flipped them off as she stabilized the bike. It made her remember the truck that had tried to mow her down outside the school. The ones with red eyes. Some of her giddiness evaporated, leaving hard grains of sobering reality.

I need to be more careful.

She didn't encounter any more cars after that. The street was quiet. She could hear the crickets in the bushes, with the occasional croak of a frog, punctuated by the staccato bursts of an automatic lawn sprinkler.

The cloud cover was finally starting to break up, and through the swaths of cloud she could make out the starry sky. No moon. She felt its absence like an ache.

Catherine pulled up in front of her house with a skid. She released her grip on the brakes and swung her leg over, wheeling the bike up the driveway and back around to the side of the house.

She set it back against the blackberry bush, even brushing a bit of dirt over the seat so it wouldn't look newly used. Her mother didn't come out back very often this time of year, but it never hurt to be careful.

There's fresh mud on the tires.

It would dry soon, but Catherine wiped the mud off with a few leaves. Just in case. The large star-shaped mulberry leaves were perfect; she brushed them beneath the blackberry bush with her foot when she was through.

There
, she thought, stepping back and regarding the bike.
It was as if it had never been moved.

Just in time, too. She could smell the sun's approach. The slow bake of the earth. The dusty sunshine. Her parents would rouse more easily now; daylight was still hours away but shape-shifters were sensitive to the cycling of the sun.

Better not go through the front door, then.

She looked up at her bedroom window. Then at the tall tree that grew diagonally across from it. The branches were too flimsy to support her weight as a human, but—

What animal would be best for the job?

She had already Changed so many times tonight. Her body was exhausted. But one more shouldn't hurt.

Catherine Changed into a raccoon. When her clothes fell in a heap around her, she realized she had another problem. They were too heavy for her to lift in this form, especially the jeans and coat.

But I can't just leave them here!

She wavered, pacing agitatedly, then came to a decision.

Using both hands and her teeth for good measure, she half-dragged, half-carried the clothes to the boxwood around the house. With effort, she buried them beneath the thick, bristled branches, making a note to collect them the next day. She'd have to give them a good shake, too, to make sure no spiders decided to use her clothes as a nest.

She had been a spider, once. It amazed her that so small a creature could be in such complete possession of itself. No wonder they were so feared. Spiders were small, but they had all the aspirations of a much larger Predator.

Catherine checked again to make sure her clothes were hidden, then scaled the tree outside. Claws made tree-climbing so much easier.

It was a bit of a leap to get to the drainage pipe outside her bedroom, but the kitten had managed it. She tested the branch she was on to see if it was steady enough—it was, so she took a running start, and vaulted off the branch, sailing through the air.

For a moment, Catherine was afraid she was going to miss her target, that she had overshot the jump because of the raccoon's unfamiliar eyes. But then she was scrabbling at the metal storm drain, grasping for purchase.
I made it.

Barely. That was a really stupid fucking idea.

Her window was closed, but not latched. The raccoon's hands were dextrous enough that she could worry it open enough to squeeze through. The bones in its spine felt as slinky and liquid as a cat's.

Oh shit
.
The kitten—