Shifter’s Surrender (4 page)

Three hours later Kaylie was still irritated by her earlier confrontation with Dean. Normally not one to second guess herself, she wondered if maybe, just maybe, she’d reacted too strongly to his rejection. Yes, it hurt, but that wasn’t any reason to lose her temper and call him a coward, was it?

You bet it was
, she thought with a deep scowl.

Misinterpreting her expression, Pete, who was sitting next to her on the bench in the dugout as they watched one of their teammates swing at a fastball, commented on it. “You know we’re gonna lose.”

Kaylie reluctantly flicked her gaze from the bleachers to Pete’s handsome face. Even though she knew Dean wouldn’t show, she couldn’t stop looking for him. An inane distraction that had almost cost her a ground ball in the third inning. Almost.

She raised one shoulder in a half shrug. “The Togans are good. They’ve been together for a couple of years and it shows in their teamwork.”

Pete made a noncommittal sound and shifted slightly on the hard bench. “Thought for sure your shin guards would be of more help.”

Confused, Kaylie glanced down at her legs, stretching them out to peruse her protective gear. “Why? Because they’re neon orange?”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah. They’re a definite distraction. Have to admit it took a few times at bat before I could get past them.”

“Well, I didn’t get them to distract anyone. They’re left over from when I played in high school, same as my batting cap. They’re special.”

Pete snorted. “I’ll say.” He nudged her shoulder, eyes on the game. “We still on for caving Sunday?”

“Hmmm?” Kaylie caught herself staring off into the bleachers again. With a silent curse, she turned to Pete’s profile.

“Sure. Where, when, and what do I need to bring?’

With his dark eyes still on the players, he reached out with his right hand, and covered her left one.

“Ah.” Kaylie looked down at their entwined hands. “What are you doing?”

“Measuring. You have surprisingly small hands.” She must have made a sound because he glanced at her confused expression and raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Relax. I’m not making a pass.”

“Yeah, I know that Pete, but what I don’t know is what you mean by ‘measuring’?”

He gave her hand a light squeeze, but didn‘t let go. “I‘m thinking about what gloves we have in stock that will fit your hand. We will not have a repeat of last time, when you cut your hand because you thought your gloves were good enough.”

“Fine.” She drew the word out like it was all such a hardship.

“Steve and his wife, Megan will be going with us,” Pete said, referring to his older brother, who also happened to be walking up to take his position at bat. Then he gave her sheepish look. “I’ve ah, also invited Julie.” This time he was speaking of his most current lady love.

“What? Great. So I’m going to be a fifth wheel?”

“Not if you get a sixth.”

“Pete.” Kaylie tugged on her hand, irritated. Her first thought was to ask Dean, but then she tossed it aside. Actually, she hurled that thought at a solid wall so it would shatter in a million pieces. Then she sighed. His expression was so forlorn she couldn’t stay mad. “Fine. I’ll ask around for a sixth.”

“You’re a doll!” He raised their still joined hands to his mouth and placed an affectionate kiss on her palm. Even as she shook her head in amusement at his antics, she thought she heard a growl come from behind her, but then the crowd roared in approval as Steve’s bat connected with the ball, and the noise drowned out every sound.

“Yes!” Pete hissed with pride and excitement as his brother raced to steal second base. “You’re up. Bring Steve in, but watch yourself. Their pitcher seems to have a thing against you.”

Kaylie only grunted as she stood up. The Togan’s female pitcher had been playing like she had some sort of vendetta against Kaylie. Shelly, or Sheila, or whatever-her-name, was playing like a pro until Kaylie came up to bat. Then the woman went berserk. When the first hard ball had slammed into Kaylie’s left hip, she’d thought the pitcher just threw wild. Then the second ball tagged Kaylie in the left arm, and Kaylie had seen the cold little smile on the pitcher’s face. For some reason, the other woman was deliberately setting out to harm Kaylie and Kaylie had no idea why. And the bitch of it was that Selena, or Slut, as Kaylie starting calling her in her mind since she couldn’t remember the pitcher’s name, was a shifter, meaning every angry throw, if aimed right, could be deadly to a human. While most humans couldn’t tell a shifter from a human, Kaylie could. But why this one was showing a serious case of hate toward Kaylie, she was clueless about. The not knowing was pissing her off, and Kaylie was one direct hit away from stalking out onto the mound and finding out what the heck was going on.

“Don’t worry, Pete. I’ll fix her little red wagon.”

“Kaylie.” Pete held up a hand to forestall Kaylie’s interruption. “No, I won’t bet you. Just …be careful.”

Kaylie nodded once and then wedged on her “special” protective headgear. As she reached for a bat her shoulder screamed in protest. Her jaw clenched in determination. This time she was going to show the slut what Kaylie Gentry was made of.

When she stepped out of the dugout, cheers and stomping feet filled the evening air, her mom’s voice the loudest of all. A small smile curled her lips, boosting her resolve. She took up her position at home plate and made several practice swings. Then she looked up at the pitcher, giving glare back for glare. The pitch came at her, and Kaylie jumped back from the plate, dodging yet another near-body hit. The crowd booed, and the slut’s mouth tightened in irritation.

That’s it
, Kaylie steamed, her temper flaring white-hot as she instantly decided her next course of action and declined the walk, wanting another swing instead. The Togan’s pitcher had been consistent in hitting her body so Kaylie would use that knowledge to adjust her stance. With any luck, the ball would fly right back at the slut pitcher, only with much more velocity.

She curled her fingers around the bat and moved into position. Just as the pitcher raised her arm to throw the ball, Kaylie eased back a foot. Too late for the slut to adjust her aim. The ball flew through the air, at what would have been Kaylie’s ribcage if she’d stayed in place. Kaylie swung, connecting hard. Ignoring the painful vibrations that swept up her arm, she ran hell for leather for first base. With dark satisfaction Kaylie noted that the ball had kicked right back at the outraged pitcher, slamming into the other woman’s vulnerable stomach before it bounced onto the ground.

Exuberant, Kaylie’s feet flew over the dirt and crossed the white plate, but before she could rejoice something hard cracked with a sickening sound against her head and she found herself soaring through the air. Her last sight was of the green grass meeting her face before darkness took over.

* * * *

Dean hadn’t planned on attending the game, had in fact headed straight for Moon Haven. There he’d sat at his desk, staring blindly at his computer screen. Then he’d paced, from door to window and back again, seeing nothing but Kaylie’s beautiful face, so full of hurt, and her words, so full of cutting anger.

Fucking Peter Everett. Dean’s fist shot out and landed with a crunching pop of flesh, bone and wood as it connected with the door. Dean pulled his hand back and stared at the gaping hole and then at his bruised hand. “Fuck.” There went another door. It was a damn good thing he’d bought the local lumber company.

Scrubbing his hands over his face, he turned and slid down to the floor. His temper was just one more reason why he couldn’t allow himself to touch Kaylie, to claim her as his mate. Every time he saw her, his resolve began to crumble, and control was all he had left. He’d die if he ever hurt her. Logic dictated he should escape temptation, but his wolf thrashed in agony at that logic. But to keep her safe, and himself sane, he really should leave. The town, Kaylie, and the pack he’d come to care for.

Dean looked around his office, his sanctuary within the sanctuary. He’d head home, back up some of his things, and leave tonight. Leaving was something he’d come to excel at before arriving at Woodcliff. It should be easy to pick back up again.

But his heart felt like a lead weight in his chest; his wolf snipped and snarled in wild fury, as if battling for dominance to force the man to remain. Several minutes passed before Dean could force himself to his feet. Then he turned around and left without a backward glance.

The insistent tug became too powerful to ignore. He passed the dirt road that led to the small apartment over his bar and headed into town. His hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he pointed his truck toward the school. If he was going to rip his soul out, he might as well do it completely. No use doing anything half-assed.

He parked at the far end of the lot, and then made his way silently through the woods, rounding the school to come upon the baseball diamond unseen. He remained a good hundred yards back, behind the perimeter fence that separated the woods from the school grounds.

Everyone was so avid, cheering Kaylie and her team on, egging the Togans, and basically enjoying the thrill of being alive. He spied Caleb and Tess, arms linked in open affection, and a flare of envy burned hard and bright in his gut. While he might believe he didn’t deserve that kind of happiness, a piece of his soul craved it. Not for just the acceptance he’d received at Woodcliff from both the human and shifter populace, but for the unconditional love. A love that wouldn’t hold his past against him. Specifically, Kaylie’s love.

Growling at the impossible, he shook his head and searched for Kaylie. Though he didn’t spot her immediately he knew she was there. He could smell her luscious scent of sweat pea flowers. His wolf rose eagerly in his mind, nostrils flaring. Suddenly another familiar scent reached him, one that had both man and beast rearing back in suspicion. Stunned, Dean turned his head to the field.

No way in hell.

Out on the pitcher mound was Celeste Davi, a female shifter from Togan whom he’d casually dated—aka slept with—for nearly a year before breaking things off. While he’d had no qualms about ending things with the clingy female, especially upon learning Kaylie was returning to Woodcliff for good, Celeste hadn’t taken the split very well. Frankly, she’d been pissed.

Dean recalled her screeching at him like a harpy. Having slept her way through the majority of her own pack, the manipulative female had set her sights on Dean. She’d tolerated his distracted attentions, his lack of affection, and his cock, believing that Dean would, out of apathy if nothing else, claim her as his mate, thus making her lupa of his pack.

While he’d tried to be diplomatic, Celeste had ranted. When Dean remained calm, she had become even more enraged. But when she came at him with stinging slaps and raking nails, both man and wolf had reached their limit. Dean had loosed his power, the kind that only came from being an Alpha, and directed an unforgiving and deadly stream of magical energy right at Celeste until she cowered in supplication. Dean Kinigos was not only Alpha of one of the largest shifter packs in the States; he was easily one of the most powerful shifters in the world. No one who crossed him remained unscathed. When he’d walked away from Celeste, he’d made sure she’d never forget what was due her pack leader.

And now here the bitch was. Dean’s eyes narrowed in thought. The only time Celeste ever got physical was during sex. She never even lifted a finger to clean her apartment. What the hell was she doing here, and playing baseball? Even as he searched for Kaylie, he knew it was too much of a coincidence. According to Caleb, Dean’s interest in Kaylie hadn’t gone unnoticed, and somehow—Dean could easily figure out how—Celeste had dug her claws into a male body and had found out about Kaylie. The proverb about hell and scorned women flashed hot and red in his vision. With Celeste’s psychotic wrath, and even greater physical strength, she just might kill his mate.

Anxiety swirled in his gut. His claws slid out from under his nails as the seconds passed with no sight of Kaylie. Now he was in full panic. The muscles in his thighs tightened as he prepared to jump the fence when—finally!—someone moved from behind one of the dugouts, and Dean spied Kaylie on the bench. His sigh of relief came out in a great
whoosh
one breath, only to become an angry and possessive snarl the next. Not only was that fucking Pete Everett sitting next to her, the suicidal jerk was now actually raising Kaylie’s hand to his fucking mouth!

Dean’s lips curled in a sneer to accommodate his lengthening fangs. He inched closer and sniffed. No scent of feminine excitement. Kaylie wasn’t aroused, even though she was holding hands with the man she’d thrown in Dean’s face only a few hours ago. Dean’s brows drew together in thought.

Just then Kaylie leaned forward, did something he couldn’t see, and then stood and walked out onto the field. Dean shifted his glare from Pete to Kaylie, noting immediately that something was wrong with her movements. Scanning her body did nothing but make his cock twitch with approval. He loved the way she moved, loose and limber, her hips swaying with enticing ease. That heart-shaped, ample ass begged for his hands to cup and squeeze it while he slid his cock into her wet sheath.

Groaning at where his thoughts always took him when he looked at Kaylie, he almost missed the slight limp and the way she scowled at the pitcher. Flicking his gaze to the mound he caught the intense hatred Celeste aimed right back at Kaylie.

This was so not good.

As the first pitch rocketed over the plate, Dean hopped over the perimeter fence. He saw Kaylie jump back and knew that his concern was not misplaced. Celeste was out for blood.

Then the second pitch and—crack!—Kaylie connected! Dean skidded to a halt, pride crashing through him even as he noted the way she’d adjusted her stance to make the hit. The woman was damn smart and stubborn as hell. She could have taken the walk—painful hit and not the first from the looks of it—but she didn’t. Damned foolish woman.

With his gaze intent on Kaylie, Dean barely registered the ball hurtling through the air, aimed at Kaylie’s head. Her battered plastic headgear was no protection against a ball thrown with a velocity that no human could ever achieve. Even as his feet began to move, he knew he’d never reach Kaylie in time. He was fifty feet away when the ball connected with Kaylie’s helmet, twenty when she went flying. She’d barely hit the ground when Dean leaped the fence surrounding the playing field. Racing to her side, he dropped to his knees and simply froze. Hands that shook remained inches from her still frame. He was suddenly afraid of touching her, not out of his idiotic denial of sparking the mating heat, but out of fear of causing more damage to her fragile human body.