Keeper of the Alphas - Complete (13 page)

Cami pulled the covers high up around her shoulders and over her head. She heard the door click behind Marcus and listened to the steady sound of his footsteps as he creaked downstairs.

What was she doing
? It had helped. More than. Her headache left and she felt centered in her body. But sex with a man who turned into a bear on occasion? That was strange, even for her. Yet she felt strangely comfortable with him, more comfortable than she’d felt in her skin in a long time. She didn’t have to hide her crazy or her curves with him. She could just be.

Until, you know. Things went south and he took her head off with one clean swipe of his bear claw.

Then again. Between last night and this morning, she sure as hell wasn’t letting him out from between her thighs anytime soon.

She tried to go back to sleep, her body still spent and recuperating, but the mattress was too hard. She pulled the blanket back and tried to count the wooden boards in the ceiling. Her mother’s old room. She’d just had wild animal sex in her mother’s old room. She suddenly burned with the feeling that she was being watched, judged.

(Making love the night of my funeral, in my old room, no less. Don’t you have any sense of respect, dear? Is there anything even in that pretty head anymore? Take off your makeup before it stains my pillows.)

Cami pushed herself out of bed and ran away from her mother’s piercing stare. She went into her own room instead and dug through her clothes for something to put on.

Her phone buzzed angrily from her bedside table. She unplugged it from the wall and lifted it. Thirteen missed calls, two voicemails, and eighteen missed texts. All from the same person.

Fr: Seth

Where the fuck are you?????

Uh-oh. Five question marks. Must be
serious
or something. Might as well get this over with now. She sat down on the bed, wedged her phone between her shoulder and ear, and pulled white flower-printed stockings over her legs. She was feeling teacup girly and she wanted to hold onto this giddy feeling, even when Seth’s frantic breathing came over the other line.

“Where are you!” he squawked. Not so much as a hi, how are you, so what’s the grieving processes like for people with souls?

“Things here are taking a little longer than expected,” she said.

“How much longer? You were supposed to be here today. I’ve had to double-team the phones with Cheryl and I can tell you, it’s not pretty.”

I’m sure that’s not all you’re double-teaming with Cheryl
, Cami thought and felt an eye roll coming on. Answering phones. Oooh, so hard. But that was Seth. Time was money and every second wasted was like a drop of life blood. Caffeine-infected city-that-never-sleeps, New York, New York. She was amazed, really, by how suddenly she’d fallen back into the slow drip of her one-horse town. A couple days ago, she would’ve been able to keep up with Seth. Now, he sounded like a squirrel riding a jackhammer.

“I’m not sure,” she confessed and found a couple stands of hair to twist into a braid. “Maybe a few more days.” A couple days would buy her time to make up her mind; a week would have her fired and replaced within hours. However long it took for her bear man to heal.

“All things fucking holy, Cami, you’re killing me.”

No, your blood pressure and your addiction to shoe polish hair dye is killing you, Seth.

He sighed then and she heard the chattering background noises of vrooming hairdressers and sharp gossip suddenly fade. In his office, probably. The same office with the same desk he routinely threw her over and fucked her dispassionately.

“I need you, Cami,” he said, softer now. There it was. The four words that, days ago, would have had her putty in his hands, purchasing the next plane ticket out. Not
I love you
, because men lied. Not
I want you
, because they always wanted something else more.
I need you
. Because Cami was used to feeling out of place, unnecessary, a blight on everyone else’s life.

Already, she felt herself moisten, like a tongue-out, panting Pavlov’s dog in heat. As though he could smell blood in the water (the shark), he asked breathily, boldly, “What are you wearing?”

“I’ve got to go,” she said suddenly. Heard her name start to leave his lips when she hung up and dropped the phone on the bed.

Her body felt hot, but her insides felt cold, like a ghost had just passed through her. She twisted the one-handed braid in her hair and pulled it just a little too tight to feel the strain on her skull.

Remembered Marcus’s fingers in her hair. Marcus’s hurt. With her stockings still splayed only halfway up her thighs, she could see the purple-blue bruises where Marcus’s hips had slammed against hers. Felt better.

She finished pulling up her stockings, slipped into her shoes, and dropped her dress over her thighs. Quick glance in the mirror. Her hair could use another thirty minutes—Marcus had done a number on it on the rug in front of the fireplace. And in the bed. And again. But she decided sex hair looked good on her (wild without being matted) and left the confines of her room to head downstairs.

The chocolate-burnt smell of coffee warmed the whole house. Downstairs, Marcus was already curled over the kitchen table. He looked too big in the chair, like a grown man living in a dollhouse, and hunched over the mug in front of him. Cami’s flats padded softly down the last couple of stairs and, though he didn’t budge, his eyes lifted and lingered on her legs before they made it to her eyes.

“Mm.
Coffee
,” Cami said dreamily, like an addict.

He gave a nod towards the pot. “There’s a mug by the pot.”

Sure enough, there was a mug waiting for her. Sent a little thrill through her. She took it and poured herself some coffee, felt it hot through the cup. She blew lightly on it, sipped. Tasted
good
. Strong. Better than Starbucks. She took a couple sips and already felt her blood reviving.

“You want an omelet?” Cami asked, turning on her toes and hunting through the fridge.

“We’re out of eggs.”

“I’ll go to town and get some.” She grinned back at him. “Look at us, being domestic.” Images flashed through her head: a picnic in a sunhat, apple pie on the windowsill, vacuuming while wearing gloves.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” That was Marcus. The bookend to her fun.

Cami plopped down in the chair across from him and took a second to enjoy her coffee before she went out. She took a swallow and swished her feet underneath her. “Do you wanna come with me?” she asked. “Get some of…whatever you need.”

His eyes turned down to his mug again as he gripped it with both hands. “No. I’m alright.”

Cami squinted. “Do you
ever
go into town?”

His clear blues rested on her again. “Not if I can help it.”

Cami lifted her eyebrows. “C’mon. It’s not all that bad. I mean, the people here can be a little
weird
, but you’re one to talk.”

He said nothing to that. Just swallowed down more coffee.

“If you never go into town, how’d you meet my mom?” Cami asked, her eyes bearing into him.

“I’d rather not answer that,” he said and matched her gaze.

“Why?”

“Because every time I talk about your mother, you give me that look.”

She tilted her head like a confused poodle. “What look?”

“Like you’re wondering if I like your mom more than you.”

Cami scoffed in surprise. “You don’t beat around the bush.”

He shrugged.

Well
. Since that can of worms had been opened. “Well?” Cami asked.

His gaze was level with hers, his eyes hard. “I knew your mother for half my lifetime. I’ve barely known you a full week.”

Here we go…
Duh. She should’ve guessed that answer. And she knew it, logically, but still her heart tried not to sink too hard.

“And,” he continued, eyes level with hers, “I feel more connected to you than I’ve felt to anyone in my life.”

Wait—
what
? She wasn’t expecting that answer. Or prepared for it. There was no expectation in his expression, no earnest anticipation, just cool, bare truth. It made her heart speed up, like she was driving top speed towards the edge of a cliff.

Felt good to have her foot on the pedal. Good and terrifying.

“Oh,” she said. It was all she could squeak out.

He lifted the mug to his lips, took another swallow. “My Beast wants to make you its mate,” he admitted. “And it’s getting harder for me to contain it.”

Cami remembered the slashes in the bed sheets. “I thought we already did that,” she said. “Like, a bunch.”

“Mating is one thing. Being a mate…”

“Finish your sentences,” she chided.

He shot her a glare. She smiled prettily and took a sip from her coffee.

“A mate is for life. A sacred bond formed with a Mark.”

“What kind of Mark?”

“A bite.”

“So you bite me and then we’re like…what. Bear-married?”

He pressed his lips together. “It’s not an invitation. I’m not marking you.”

“Why not?” Never mind that the idea seemed far out of her comfort zone, she frowned when he knocked it down before she could. “Am I not mate material?”

“Cami,” he said evenly. “Is that really something you want?”

“Well, no. But—”

“My point exactly.” And that was it. Just as abruptly as he started, he ended the conversation. “Not that you seem to need permission, but you can take my car.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Eggs,” he said.

Egg—
oh. Omelets. Right. She had promised that, hadn’t she? Cami nodded, sucked down the last of her coffee, and then set it down on the table. “Right. I’ll be back before you can say Smokey the Bear.”

No response from him.

“Too soon?” she added. With that, Cami got up and plucked the car keys from the foyer and gave them a shake. “Be right back.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” he said.

You can hold me however you want
, she thought, and then tried to shake it off. Her mind was sinking deep into the gutter this morning. That’s what she got for waking up with one orgasm after the other. She dramatically blew him a kiss with a wink, like a life-size pinup doll. He tried to look unmoved, but there was no masking the crinkle in the corner of his eyes. She’d melt through his walls yet.

Cami got a carton of eggs, a couple red peppers, and an onion. No line at the checkout. Town felt quiet for a Sunday, but then she had to remind herself Tyburn was quiet
every day
of the week and made no exception for the weekends. This wasn’t the bustling, ever-moving streets of New York City. This was a one-horse town without a saddle and a sharp lean towards religious tradition. She glanced at the clock on her phone. Everyone was probably just getting out of church about now.

Maybe she should go. See if she’d forgotten a verse about
men who doth turn into beasts in the eves of the night
or something. But the thought of returning to the place that her mother had lain, dead and cold, gave her chills that had nothing to do with the frigid weather as she left the corner store and started back to Marcus’s rusted-out pickup.

She liked the cold, though. It had to be somewhere in the thirties, she estimated, by the bite of the wind, the way it scratched and clawed at her face. Her neck was snug and warm, though (had to return that scarf to Jenny—you know—
eventually
). Tyburn was cute, picturesque, and for the first time since she’d arrived there, she found herself enjoying the view. Main Street was lined with antique shops, bookstores, and boutiques, all slathered in pastel colors. She passed the same old rundown movie theater with the old school vertical marquee, proudly boasting movies that had left New York theaters weeks ago. Beyond the town, she could see the tops of the Siskiyou Mountains, their peaks covered in white, where the woods stretched out past her house on Argonne, into red and yellow autumn wilderness.

She was halfway down the sidewalk when she heard a growl beside her. Her heart went double time as she instantly imagined the orange-eyed bear lumbering up the streets after her. Instead, she saw an unmistakable sleek black Camaro slow next to her
.
ZZ Top’s guttural sound yowled over the radio.

“Hey, you there—ma’am. You know it’s dangerous to be walking alone this time of day?”

Cami couldn’t help the grin that tugged up the corners of her mouth. “It’s barely noon.”

“For a pretty lady like you? Any time’s trouble,” Jayce said, putting on a bad attempt at some kind of hardboiled 1920s drawl. He bent over so he could see her through the passenger window and added, “Hop in. I’ll give you a ride.”

“That’s alright. I’m right up the street,” Cami said, walking beside him. Tried to keep her eyes ahead of her. Last time she climbed in his Camaro, she’d ended up in the back, legs splayed. She wasn’t ready for round two. Three? Whatever. She had something special with Marcus…
what
, exactly, she wasn’t sure. Truth be told, she was incredibly confused about what exactly it
was
. But it was
something
, and that was enough to put any other flings on hold. Even if they did come in a pretty blond package with a charming smile. In a grey cowl-neck sweater and a navy sleeveless jacket. Looked good on him. Would look better off of him.

She counted the cracks in the sidewalk ahead of her.

“Where’s your car?” Jayce squinted. She pointed towards the red pickup. “That’s
yours
?”

She shrugged. “I’m borrowing it.” Best to leave out the details.

Jayce didn’t leave, though. He nodded to her and said, “What’re you making?”

Cami lifted her bag and pulled out the carton of eggs to show him. “Omelet. Got some peppers…onions…”

“Your eggs are broken.”

“What?” She twisted the carton in her hand.

“Here, let me show you—” He put a foot on the break and reached over, plucking the carton from her hands when she offered it. Then he dropped the egg carton in his backseat. “Your eggs are mine,” he said.

“What? No!” She screeched a laugh.

“Come with me if you ever want to see them again.”

“Jayce! Quit it. Give them back.”

He shook his head. “For every minute you spend out of the car, I’m going to break an egg.” He pulled his sleeve back and looked down at his watch. “Fifty five…fifty four…”

“
Okay
, okay.” Cami yanked open the passenger-side door and plopped inside with a huff.

“Oh, hey, Cami,” he said, a wide smile over his mouth, as though he hadn’t just been taunting her. “What brings you here?”

“You’re not as cute as you think you are, you know that?” she said, lifting her eyebrows at him.

“Yeah, I know.” The car engine glug-a-lugged between them. “You wanna go on an adventure?” he asked.

How many times had she heard those words leave his lips? Usually right before they went knee-deep in a mud-pond or camped out in a tree canopy.

“I want an omelet,” she said.

“Alright,” he said. He turned ahead, took his foot off the break, and started driving her to the pickup.

Cami leaned against the window and let ZZ Top croon on.

She twisted a strand of hair in her fingers, and then finally turned back to him. “What kind of adventure?”