Passions Recalled: Forbidden Passions, Book 2 (3 page)

Celeste had been the perfect opportunity for him. Abandoned by Jason and smothered by her family, Celeste had been ripe for the picking. He’d earned her trust and wormed his way into the Alpha’s circle. The hardest part had been concealing his true nature. Not from Celeste—she thought he could do no wrong—but from her father. Michael was a suspicious son of a bitch. He’d wondered right from the start why a strong werewolf in his clan was willing to wait so long for his daughter to come around, but as the months stretched on, he relaxed, became complacent. He didn’t consider Derek a threat.

Resting on the balls of his feet, he hunkered down next to Celeste, brushed a long tendril of blonde hair from her face, and tried to decide how to use these new developments to his advantage. No one knew he was here, and he bet no one knew she was either. He’d been lucky to find her, and it was due more to instinct than knowledge.

He’d been riding the high from Marie, that special feeling he got every time he brought another slut low. And they had to be sluts. Killing more circumspect women had never been a thrill for him. He’d given it a shot once or twice, but the excitement just couldn’t compare. That’s why Celeste had always been safe. She lived like a nun.

Lately the women he picked were with purpose, a means to an end as well as the special kick he craved. It was too soon for Marie, too soon after the last one. He’d known that but was so excited about the progression of his plan to bring Michael down, he’d seized the chance to celebrate a little. Who knew Celeste would happen by? It was pure luck the storm had slowed at just the right time for him to hear the distinctive whine as her car’s engine started.

By the time he’d rushed out she was gone and though he trembled with the need to rush after her, to protect himself, he’d made himself stop and think. First the body had to be dealt with then he’d figure out what to do. He’d known he had to act with haste. If she went to Michael, the Alpha would come after him fast and furious. Walking back into his house, he’d noticed the cell phone on a side table. It had rung a few times while he was playing, but he’d ignored it. He’d picked it up and scrolled through the missed calls—all Celeste—then listened to his voice mail. He’d grinned as he hung up, strolling over to gaze down at the corpse sprawled across his living room floor.

Michael had called Celeste for a late family meeting, about what she had no idea, but Derek was pretty sure she’d received the shocking news that Jason thought she was dead. Like the good little girl she was, she’d come straight to her good friend. Enraged, he’d broken out in a cold sweat. He’d had to find her before she fucked up everything.

He’d bet his fortune she wouldn’t go to Michael. She’d already be in shock and the addition of witnessing a murder would have put her on overload. No. She’d go home. Or maybe even to Jason. Derek’s money was on her Atlanta apartment. So he’d disposed of the body—making sure to dump it on Alpha land where it would surely be discovered soon—and driven to Atlanta. He’d been surprised to find she wasn’t there, and he hated surprises.

He knew she hadn’t gone to Michael’s. His people were watching the Alpha’s house. So, with only one other option, he’d driven south, despite the latest radio weather warnings that had Hurricane Iris turning toward his destination. He went straight to Jason’s park, where he caught a lucky break. He found her car in the beach parking lot and, from a sand dune, he spotted her stretched out on the beach. Although not as crowded as it might’ve normally been, there were too many people around to approach her, so he checked out the park, looking for unused roads and paths, and found a place nearby to hide and observe. He’d narrowly avoided running into Jason who’d driven by in a work vehicle.

As the morning passed, the weather had grown progressively worse. When she’d finally stirred and hurried to her car, he’d seized his opportunity and made his move.

Now he had to decide what to do with her. Finish her off or keep her alive? The better to torment Michael with obviously.

The roar of an engine stopped him. The sound increased, and he cocked his head to the side. Definitely coming his way. It sounded like the vehicle he’d seen Jason in earlier. He made a split second decision and sprinted for his truck. Jason would probably have to be dealt with later too. The delay infuriated Derek, but he knew he’d need an advantage. The leopard was a fierce fighter, and he wasn’t positive his wolf could take the cat down. Better to fight safe than stupid, a lesson he’d learned the hard way from his father’s murder.

He made it to the truck and gave Celeste a last fulminating glare. Should have finished her off or taken her with him, but with Jason added to the equation, there were too many variables outside of his control. The other vehicle approached the parking lot, and he knew he was out of time. He started the truck, threw it in gear and peeled out of the parking lot, barely missing sideswiping the oncoming vehicle.

He’d wait and watch. And strike when they were at their weakest.

Jason Leonidas steered the park service vehicle into the beach parking lot and growled when an exiting truck almost ran him off the hardtop. The other driver’s tires squealed as he took the turn. “Reckless,” Jason muttered. He would have gone after the idiot and given him a ticket and a lecture, but he saw one car left in the lot. The storm was coming in bigger and faster than the weather center’s models had predicted, and its course had completely changed, leaving Tampa safe but barreling straight for Panama City. His first priority was to make sure the park was empty. Then he’d go hole up somewhere safe.

He guided his vehicle into a space next to the Honda. Grabbing his binoculars, he stepped out. He’d just run up the dune and scan the beach for stragglers. He made it to the front bumper of the truck before he froze, assaulted by familiar smells.

Fear. Blood. Celeste.

Not fucking possible.

Celeste was gone, taken from him in the cruelest way—forever. He must have finally lost what was left of his mind.

Over the wail of the wind, he heard a low mewling sound, like a kitten in pain, and he lurched into movement, quickly circling the compact car. A small figure lay on the ground, a woman with long blonde hair matted red with blood.

Celeste’s hair. Celeste’s scent.

Celeste is dead you idiot. Get it together.

Fur ruffled under his skin as he approached her. The logical thinking man knew Celeste was gone. The wereleopard who lived on instinct insisted this was its mate, and someone had hurt her.

He growled, low and threatening, man and leopard beginning to merge in growing fury when he knelt and carefully rolled her over.

Celeste…alive.

His chest tightened when he brushed the hair off her face, but he pushed all conflicting emotions away. No time for that now—he had to get her to safety. What the hell was she doing here anyway?

He easily lifted her and carried her to his truck. The driver’s side door was still open, and he maneuvered his way in while holding her against his chest. Squeezing his eyes shut, he took a deep breath, dragging her scent deep into his lungs. A feeling he could only describe as joy overwhelmed him, and he choked on a sob. In any other circumstances he would have laughed. Big, bad, Jason Leonidas crying like a baby? But she was alive. How many times had he wished he could change the past? How many times had he wished he could go back and insist she not get on that damned plane?

Fury replaced the joy. Where the fuck had she been? She’d abandoned her mate. She’d let him think she was dead. The only thing that kept him from shaking her awake and demanding answers was her sudden moan of pain. He held her too tightly, knew she’d probably bear bruises later from his rough embrace. Gently, he laid her across the bench seat, resting her head on his lap.

He cranked the engine, put the truck in drive and headed for the ranger cabin where they would ride out the storm. He glanced down at her, ran a finger over his mark on her shoulder.
Together again. Together at last.

She stirred, agitated, but remained unconscious, and he frowned. How long had she been out? Smoothing his hand over her hair, he murmured, “Shh, baby. Almost there.”

His voice seemed to soothe her, and she settled. Within minutes, he’d stopped the truck and carried her into the small building he called home. He paused in the living room, wondering if he should lay her on the couch. Hell no. She was his mate—she belonged in his bed. A few steps down the hall and he was striding into his room. He pulled the blanket back, laid her down and stepped away.

He struggled to get his mind past the shock of her presence. He needed to have a look at the wound on her head, clean it up and see if he could wake her. Forcing himself to focus, he gritted his teeth and stared down at her. How had he missed the impossibly small bikini? Even that was too much concealment though, and he wanted it gone, wanted her uncovered and exposed to his hungry gaze. He remembered too well what the scraps of material covered. The small perfect breasts. The generously rounded hips and hot pussy that always welcomed him, no matter how he’d previously loved her. His cock sprang to hard, throbbing attention. She groaned again, rolling her head against the pillow and spurring him to action. First things first.

He got his emergency kit, a clean cloth and a bowl of cool water. Placing the items on the nightstand, he shifted her over enough that he could sit next to her and dipped the cloth in the water. The wound was on her right temple, and he cleaned it as gently as possible while still being thorough. She’d been hit with something, and the gash was long but not deep. The butterfly bandages in the kit would be fine to close it, but first he had to make sure there was no sand in the wound. His biggest concern was concussion, but that worry was alleviated as he worked. Her breathing was even and steady, and once her eyes fluttered open to focus on him for a few seconds. He was pleased to see no dilation in her pupils. She closed them with a sigh. It was her scent, however, that really eased his mind. He didn’t catch one whiff of anything that would indicate an injury in her brain. It had been a glancing blow. It was probably a combination of the heat, surprise and the hit that had her sleeping so soundly. She’d be fine in a couple hours.

When he was sure the cut was cleaned, he disinfected the area, pressed the edges together, and sealed it shut. He exchanged the bloodied cloth for an unsoiled one and refilled the bowl with clean water. Sitting next to her on the bed, his hip against hers, he hesitated. Cleaning the wound was one thing, cleaning the rest of her might be out of line. But fuck, it had been a long time, and he couldn’t
not
touch her.

After dipping the washcloth, he bathed her face, the fine high cheekbones, the perky nose, the stubborn chin he’d loved beyond reason. He frowned when he saw the long scar up the side of her cheek. It hadn’t been there before. His gaze raked her body, lingering over the flat smooth belly and the faded scars that crisscrossed the top of her bathing suit bottoms. There were more scars on her legs, and he gently wiped away crusted sand from her knees while he thought it over. She hadn’t had any of these scars the last time he’d seen her, but it had been awhile since the plane crash. Her injuries had time to fade like these.

He searched his memory of that time and knew he paled under his deep tan. His father’s death in the same crash hadn’t registered for months. He’d been mad with grief and consumed by fury at Celeste’s family when they told him she’d died in that crash, for refusing to let him see her body. He’d blamed them for her death, still did, despite the proof she was alive. As soon as they’d realized her infatuation with the wereleopard was a great deal more than just that, they’d been quick to pack her up and send her home. A leopard in the ruling wereleopard clan wasn’t good enough apparently. But she’d never made it, the small plane left the private airstrip at the Refuge Resort in Arizona only to be taken down by a sudden storm in the Appalachian Mountains.

He hadn’t believed them, had been sure he would feel it if she was dead. Since he was told to stay away from the funeral and threatened with execution if he entered wolf land without permission, he refused to believe it. Until his brothers forced him to view video of the crash site, forced him to see the wreckage. There was no way anyone could have survived that mangled wreck, so he’d begun to accept it.

Now he didn’t know what to believe. If she’d been on the plane, how had she survived? And why the fuck had her family told him she was dead? He’d been living with a gaping hole in his heart for a year and for what? Werewolf snobbery? His cat side hissed in response, demanding release. It wanted to run off the rage, the hurt, the shock, the fear. The new questions. If Celeste had survived, what about his father? He needed to let his brothers know ASAP, but it was all too much to take at once and with no target at which to vent.

Jason finished bathing her and cleaned up the mess. He walked back to the living room and opened the front door. It was raining hard now. The wind blew it sideways, and it fell in sheets rather than drops, but the deep porch kept most of it outside. A few drops hit the floor at the open entryway, and he went to the hall closet for a towel, dropping it down to soak up the moisture. He knew from experience that the storm would go on for a couple of days, in fits and starts until Iris passed over the area. This round of rain and wind would probably stop soon, for a short time at least before picking up stronger when the next band reached them.

Glancing in the direction of his bedroom, he stripped. There was no help for it. Worry ate at him. Every emotion under the sun consumed him. A quick run would help sort out the jumble. Then hopefully he’d be able to deal with Celeste, his need for her, and her betrayal. Because under the fury, was a bone deep hurt that twisted his insides into painful knots. He could have forgiven her for dying on him, but she hadn’t. She’d left. She’d never given them the chance they deserved. It was the ultimate betrayal. He wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive her for it. One thing was certain though, forgiveness or not, he wasn’t letting her go again. They were mated. Whether she liked it or not.