Mine to Possess (6 page)

“I'm not leaving without my stuff.” An excuse. It would buy her time, give her a chance to figure out where to go.

He sighed. “Fine. Park yourself out here until we're done and I'll give you a ride myself.”

“Great.”
Damn
.

Clay woke with
the knowledge that he wasn't in his lair, his head clear. Changelings processed alcohol far quicker than humans and he had stopped drinking just short of hangover territory. Of course, his mouth felt like something small and furry had crawled in and died there, and his disgust at his own behavior was intense, but physically speaking, he was fine.

Tiny scrabbling sounds came from the floor beside the bed. It was those sounds that had wakened him though it was still dark outside. Reaching down without looking, he caught one leopard cub by the scruff off his neck and hauled him onto the bed, catching the second as he tried to dart out. “You two are supposed to be in bed,” he growled.

The two small leopards looked at each other, then rushed him. He held them off without too much trouble, amused. It was the last emotion he'd have thought he'd feel upon waking, but these two made anything else hard.

“Down,” he said after a few minutes.

The cubs obeyed at once, well aware he was dominant to them. In fact, all of a sudden they appeared to be on their best behavior. Suspicious, he focused his hearing and caught the sound of Tamsyn, their mother, searching for them. “Sharp ears,” he muttered, not bothering to get up when Tamsyn gave a soft knock.

“They're in here.” His throat felt lined with grit.

She opened the door. “Oh, did they wake you?” As she came to pick them up, the cubs shifted into human form in a burst of flickering color. Naked, they scampered out of the room, laughing.

Tamsyn smiled and shook her head. “More energy than sense.”

He grunted. “Time?”

“Five a.m.” Sitting on the bed, she looked at him, her hair sliding over one shoulder. “You feeling okay?”

“A shower and I'll be fine.” He deliberately ignored the real meaning of her question. Having been DarkRiver's healer from a very young age, Tamsyn had a disturbing way of getting under people's skins.

Now, she sighed. “You're exactly like my boys—no sense at all. I love you, you idiot. Talk to me.”

He wasn't ready to talk to anyone about the ghost who had walked back into his life. “Leave it, Tammy.”

She shook her head. “Lord, but you men drive me crazy. All testosterone and pride. Well, you know where I live. I'll go find you some fresh clothes.” Leaning over, she brushed his hair off his face in a gentle move. “We're Pack, Clay. Remember that.”

He waited until she left before shoving down the sheet and wandering into the bathroom.
Pack.
Yes, they were Pack, a healthy, functioning pack. He'd never known the like until Nate had dragged him into DarkRiver.

His mother, Isla, had deliberately chosen to live away from the leopard-controlled areas of the country, hiding her son among humans and nonpredatory changelings. The fact that they had never been tracked down told Clay that his father's—and by extension, Isla's—pack, had been, or was, nowhere near as strong or as healthy as DarkRiver. It hadn't protected, hadn't sheltered, and definitely hadn't healed.

When Nate had offered to sponsor Clay into DarkRiver, he'd accepted mostly because he didn't really care where he went. He'd figured he could take off if he didn't like it. He had discovered different within days. In DarkRiver, isolation wasn't an option. Loners were accepted, but they weren't forgotten. And if someone lost their way, the pack hauled them back in kicking and screaming.

Stepping out of the shower, he pulled on the clothes he'd heard Tamsyn bring in a few minutes ago. They were his own—because Tamsyn was their healer, they often came to her bleeding or worse, their clothes useless. It made sense to have spare clothing here. As he dressed, he could hear her and Nate talking downstairs, the low murmur of their voices interspersed with the higher-pitched tones of the twins.

A healthy pack. A healthy family. They were both lessons Clay had learned from DarkRiver. Why hadn't Talin learned the same from the family that had taken her in? She hadn't lied about them being good people. He would have picked up the signs of deception—increased heart rate, perspiration, the subtle shift in scent. Not all leopards had that skill but Clay had always been good at it, especially with Talin.

Lots of men.

She hadn't lied about that either. The thought of his Talin with others continued to stoke the dark fire inside of him, but at least he could think past it this morning. Going downstairs, he grabbed a cup of coffee and a bagel, then left before either Nate or Tamsyn could ask any awkward questions.

He had no time for delays. He was on a hunt.

No way in hell was Talin going to get away from him a second time.

There was an
Enforcement car outside her apartment. Clay's heart kicked violently in his chest.

He'd left her alone in the dark. Tally was scared of the dark.

Disgusted with himself, he was about to get out of his own vehicle and track her down when she walked out holding a small duffel bag. His relief was crushing, but hard on its heels came a jagged mix of anger and possessiveness laced with razor-sharp tenderness. How dare she put herself in danger? And how dare she not call him the second she knew something was wrong?

Instead of Clay, there was another man walking by her side, the small gold shield of an Enforcement detective clipped to his collar. As Clay watched from across the road, the detective put a hand on her lower back and urged her toward the vehicle Clay had already noted. She resisted but didn't break the touch. The detective dropped his hand, his face wearing a scowl that told Clay Talin was being stubborn.

That didn't mean the man wasn't one of her lovers.

The leopard growled and the sound threatened to travel up through Clay's human vocal cords to fill the air inside the car. He almost didn't stop the sound from escaping, no matter that he knew full well he was behaving like an ass. He had no right to judge Talin. But that was the cool, logical, human side of his brain talking—where Talin was concerned, he was less human and more possessive, domineering cat.

Sliding back the door, he got out and strode across the street.

Talin's head snapped up the second his foot hit the ground, as if she'd felt the vibration. A chaotic mix of emotions swept across her face, waves of liquid flame: Relief. Surprise. Pain. That ever-present fear.

Her lips shaped his name as he reached her side and drew her to him with an arm around her neck. She flinched at the rough move. He ignored it. “What happened?” he asked the cop and it was a challenge.

The man looked to Talin. “Is this the friend you said you called?”

Talin nodded. “Yes.”

Clay let the lie go. They'd discuss it later. “I'm Clay.”

“Max.” He held out a hand and as they shook, Clay saw the detective note everything about him, from his jeans to his sweatshirt to the fact that he needed a haircut. “You'll look after her,” the man said as they broke contact.

Clay's anger quieted at that statement, turned assessing. “What do I need to protect her from?” It looked like Max was the only remaining cop, so whatever had happened, either it had been minor or it had happened long enough ago for the forensics people to have come and gone. Which meant Talin should have called him hours ago.

His protective fury grew anew as Max laid out the bare facts. “Unless someone's just getting their kicks terrorizing her, Talin's doing more damage than she thinks.”

“I need to know what you've got, so I can make sure the bastards don't come anywhere near her.” Clay could feel her heart beating as wildly as a panicked bird's. But he didn't release her and she didn't fight to be let go. The leopard calmed.

Max paused. “Officially, I can't give you anything. But you're one of Lucas's top men, aren't you?”

Clay wasn't surprised the cop had made him. DarkRiver was a power in San Francisco and it was Enforcement's job to know that. Mostly because they were Psy stooges, but sometimes for other reasons—like making sure justice was done despite Psy interference.

He made a mental note to ask his contacts about Max, but his instincts said the man stood on the right side of the line. “Yes. I'm with DarkRiver.”

The detective nodded, as if reaching a decision. “Then we need to have an unofficial chat after I finish up today. Anyplace safe from prying eyes and ears?”

“Joe's Bar.” Isolated near the edge of DarkRiver territory and frequented exclusively by cats, wolves, and their invited guests, it was close to airtight. “You know where it is?” At Max's nod, he said, “Leave the recorder at home.”

“Funny that. I have a reputation for losing my recorder.” A deadpan statement. “I'll see you around eight. Talin—you need me, you call.”

“She won't be needing you.” Clay felt his arm tighten, sensed her panic, but couldn't control the primitive animal impulse. “We'll see you at the bar.”

Talin waited until
Max had driven away before tugging at Clay's arm. “Let me go.”

He leaned down until his lips brushed her ear. “I told you to stop flinching.” And then he bit her. A slow, painless nip but there were definitely teeth involved.

Shocked, she couldn't speak for almost a minute, during which he hustled her across the road and into his large all-terrain vehicle. Its street name was the Tank, though it was far sleeker and faster than the outmoded war vehicle.

She finally found her voice after he dumped her bag in back and slid into the driver's seat. “You bit me!”

He threw her a scowling look. “I gave you plenty of warning. Put on your belt.”

She was already doing it—out of habit, not because of his order. “You can't go around biting people!”

He maneuvered the car out into the street. It didn't surprise her in the least when he stuck to the manual controls, despite the fact that they were on a road embedded with the computronic chips that allowed automatic navigation. But he did engage the hover-drive, retracting the wheels so they skimmed soundlessly over the fog-shrouded streets.

“Clay?” she said when he seemed to be ignoring her.

“How did they get into your apartment?”

The shift in topic didn't surprise her in the least, not when she knew how protective he was. “I don't know. The building's about average in terms of security, but I put in a top-of-the-line system on my door.” Even then, she rarely slept all the way through the night.

“Only on the door?”

“Yes. Why—Oh, the windows. I figured being on the eighth floor was enough.”

“Not against Psy telekinetics.”

“Psy?” She laughed. “Far as I know, teleporting is a major ability. I can't see the Psy wasting that kind of a resource on terrorizing an ordinary human.”

“Hardly ordinary,” he muttered. “But there are other ways to enter through a window. Any changeling with climbing abilities, or wings, could have done it.”

She hadn't considered that and now it appeared a glaring oversight. “The blood hadn't stopped dripping when I arrived.” Shivering, she hugged her arms around herself.

“Was it warm?”

“What?”

“The blood.”

She almost threw up. “What the hell kind of question is that?”

“If they used fresh—”

“Stop!” she interrupted. “Stop the car!”

He came to a rocking halt.

Sliding back the door, she leaned out and retched. Since the only thing she'd eaten over the past twenty-four hours was that burger with Clay, there was nothing much to throw up. But her stomach didn't know that. It cramped for what felt like hours, flooding her mouth with the ugly taste of bile and tearing her insides apart.

When it stopped at last, she found Clay by her side, one hand in her hair, the other holding a bottle of water. “Drink.”

With her throat feeling like someone had taken a hacksaw to it, there was no way she was going to refuse. The water proved ice-cold. “Where?” she rasped.

He understood. “Iced bottles. All of us carry them—changeling soldiers burn a lot of energy. The water's infused with minerals and other stuff.”

She nodded and took another delicious gulp. “Tastes good.”

He tugged back her head with the hand he had in her hair. “What the hell was that about?”

She couldn't bring herself to tell him the complete truth but she forced herself to tell one. Her deadly little secret didn't need to be revealed. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. “I told you, I hate violence,” she reminded him. “You went too far with that talk of warm blood.”

His hand clenched in her hair before he released it, a penetrating expression on his face. “You had no trouble with discussing the dead boys.”

She clutched at her stomach. “It's psychological.” She stood her ground, knowing if she gave even an inch, Clay would walk straight over her. “Can we go? There's…” She nodded at the people peering out the windows of a nearby apartment building.

He ignored her request. “Why didn't the Larkspurs take you to someone who could've helped you get a handle on these things?”

“They did.” She swung her legs back into the car and, closing her eyes, leaned her head against the seat. “I'm too screwed up to fix.”

The passenger door slid shut and a second later, she felt Clay get back into the driver's seat. “That's a load of crap,” he said once he had them moving again. “You never were good at handling blood. You almost passed out that time I cut my knee on a fence.”

Her gorge rose at even that harmless memory. Taking another drink, she focused on the piercing sparks of light exploding behind her eyelids. “I got worse. After.”

Silence.

Then, “After me or after
him
?”

“Does it matter?” She realized she'd drained the water bottle.

“I guess not. You're still as fucked up.”

It hurt. “Yeah.”

He swore. “Jesus, Talin. Where's your spine?”

That made her eyes snap open. “You're insulting me to get me to react? What the hell kind of a bedside manner is that?” Outraged, she chucked the empty bottle into the pristine backseat. “I almost threw up my guts and you—”

“When did you become such a scared little mouse?” His tone was hard, his eyes trained on the road.

“Trauma, Clay! I was traumatized. It had an effect.”

“So was I,” he said, merciless. “I didn't deal by sticking my head in the sand.”

She knew immediately that he wasn't talking about the killing. “You saved me.”

His laughter was harsh. “Years too late.”

“No.” She had to reach him, had to make him see. “Orrin never tried to choke me before.” He'd wanted to watch the life leave her eyes, just like he'd done with those other girls he'd buried.

“He abused you, Talin. Hurt you, touched you, made you suffer through things no little girl should have to endure. So what if he saved the brutal murder for your eighth birthday! I fucking should have stopped him long before that!”

“I never told you,” she cried. “And you were a child, too.”

“I should have known. I'm a cat—I could smell him on you.”

“He was my foster parent. I remember you telling me you could smell their parents on all the kids.”

He didn't respond. She stared at the dark stubble along his jaw, at the ebony silk of his hair. He was so close and yet she didn't dare touch him. “Clay?” Talk to me, please, she wanted to beg. He had always spoken to her, even if he didn't to anyone else.

His fingers clenched on the steering wheel. “Tell me about your life with the Larkspurs.”

Relieved, she took a deep, shuddering breath. “They're farmers, all of them. Well, Dixie isn't, but she's a farmer's wife. Already has two babies. It's what she wanted.”

“You like Dixie.”

“Yes.” She smiled. “She's the baby of the family and so sweet, so gentle. She used to follow me around and hug me every day, as if—I like Dixie.”

“The others?”

“Tanner and Sam run various parts of the farm. It's a huge operation. Samara—Sam's twin and older by a minute—organizes the business end of things. Ma and Pa Larkspur supervise everyone.”

“They sound like a happy family.” His eyes were cat bright when he glanced at her. “So why are you still stuck in that room, watching me tear Orrin apart?”

She should've known it wouldn't be that easy to escape the past. “I tried to get better. I pretended I was. But I never did and I don't know why.” Though after her recent slew of medical tests, she could guess at some of it. “Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere safe.”

She watched the city retreat behind them. “Where?” she insisted.

“My lair.”

Her heart stopped. “I thought you didn't take strangers there.”

“I'm making an exception.”

It almost made her want to smile. Except…“Don't. These people who are after me, they're probably the ones taking the kids. They could follow and hurt you and your pack.”

He laughed and it was a deep masculine sound she felt in the innermost core of her body, a place no one had ever touched. “We're not some minor pack you can blink and miss. DarkRiver controls San Francisco and the surrounding areas. We're also allied to the wolves. No one enters our forests without our knowledge.”