Soul Whisperer (8 page)

Right now they prowled the night in her forest. The growling grew closer. Bess stood, her talons gripping the rough bark as she cocked her head and lifted the feathers over her ear holes to listen. They were below her on the floor of the forest, scratching in the pine. She was certain. In an instant they could be up the tree and, weak as she was, she was doubtful she could outfly them again.

Bess pushed off and flew toward the bright glowing lights that man had invented to protect himself from the darkness. It hurt her that she needed to seek the refuge of humans. But her pride would survive and so would she.

Those things had stolen her peace. She meant to have it back, even if she had to work with a Soul Whisperer to do it.

C
esar waited on the pier until the moist salty air coated him with a fine sheen of brine. Hoping she'd come back, waiting for her to come back. She didn't come back.

“To hell with this,” he said to the churning water below his feet. Bess had gone where he could not pursue her and he didn't like it.

Cesar reached for his phone and summoned his driver, who met him at the curb a few minutes later and then dropped Cesar at his front door. It was the last place he wanted to be. He hesitated before the glass door, held open by Anthony. If she came back, it might be to his place. Did he want her to find him waiting like some lovelorn puppy?

He briefly considered trolling the tourist bars as he had done for ten years, just to show her she wasn't missed. But the prospect of another such encounter left him empty inside. Bess's sudden intrusion and depar
ture from his life only served to draw attention to the meaninglessness of his relationships. If you could even call them that.

“Going out again, Mr. Garza? Shall I call back your car?”

He shook his head. “No, Anthony. You have a good night.”

Cesar swept by him and headed for the elevators.

He waited, hands balled in his pockets as he thought of her beside him and how she looked by candlelight there at his table in the restaurant, her lovely aura circling her like a halo.

Maybe she didn't understand the loneliness that surrounded him. But if anyone in the world could, it was Bess. She'd lived among humans and among animals while always being separate from them. She understood loss, for she would have also had to watch them all die as she lived on.

But she had the other shifters. If she needed them, they were there for her, as the appearance of Tuff proved. While he had no one. He could not even join the communities as a voting member. Cesar was permitted, albeit grudgingly, to speak to the committee when necessary. Though he knew not one of his kind would come to his aid if he were wounded. In fact, when he had been wounded in the shooting, they had left him to human surgeons.

Cesar lowered his chin to his chest, trying to ignore the burn of shame filling his chest.

He still had his work and that was what he lived for. It was enough to know what he did was valuable. He didn't need their acceptance.

The elevator arrived and he stepped aboard, hitting the floor button and dropping back against the wall. As
the car rose, he tried not to think of Bess here, her lips a whisper from his.

He punched the wall with the side of his fist and then knocked the back of his head once against the same wall.

Was she with that buffalo-man right now?

A few moments later he'd reached the empty sanctuary of his condo and was headed for his bar, pausing as he recalled the whiskey he had before dinner and the bottle of wine he'd finished unassisted. He lifted the empty tumbler she'd given him, the ice now melted to water, and threw it with all his might. It exploded against the wall, sending a shower of shards raining down on his black leather sofa.

“Go to bed,” he muttered. He hoped he could sleep. Sleep was one of the few refuges left to him. There he might again be part of a family, loved by his parents and adored by his younger brother.

But sometimes he faced the opposite, his brother as he had last seen him, broken, bleeding from his mouth and ears.

Cesar pinched his eyes closed and shook his head to vanquish the image. Then he stalked down the hall to the bathroom. He paused at the wadded white towel stained bright red with Bess's blood. He used it to mop up the floor and tub and then threw the thing in the hamper. But his efforts to remove all signs of her failed, because his brain kept flashing him images of Bess.

Cesar stripped out of his clothes and into a hot shower. Water droplets jetted against his skin like tiny stinging needles of heat. The room billowed with steam as he soaped and rinsed. It wasn't until he switched off the taps and reached for the fluffy white towel that he heard the rhythmic rapping. He looked around, trying
to identify the unfamiliar noise. It reminded him of the sound of a slack jib of a sailboat thumping against the mast.

The tapping changed to a different sequence.
Tap tap tap-tap tap.
Pause.
Tap tap.
It came again, in the direction of his bedroom. And then he understood.

Bess.

He wrapped the towel about his hips and headed for the bedroom. He unlocked the window and drew up the sash. There she stood, a large, glossy black raven staring at him with those bead-black eyes.

He stepped back. She walked across the threshold and onto the inner sill.

“Bess, can you understand me?”

She cocked her head. Then she opened her beak and spoke. Her voice crackled, but it was perfectly clear. “Not in the least.”

The flash of white light nearly blinded him and when he opened his eyes, she stood before him, dressed in a black silk robe, which revealed an enticing glimpse of formfitting lace on her bosom.

“Leave it to a Spirit Child to assume that we can't think when in animal form.”

Her choice of attire and arrival in his bedroom certainly boded well, but her prickliness did not.

“Why did you disappear on me?”

“Because you were looking at me as if I were dessert.”

He gave her that same look. “Then why come back?”

Her brow knitted, giving her an uncharacteristic troubled look that lasted only a heartbeat before she recovered. The smooth mask of confidence slid back into place as she gave him a seductive smile. What was she afraid of? She didn't trust him. That was under
standable. But he could be trusted. If she'd stay, he'd prove it to her.

“Just a public service, really. Trying to protect the other women in the area.”

“That's
my
job.”

She laughed and slid off the sill. “Yes, but I meant from you.”

Had she been back there, to the forest? Had she seen them again? It would explain her return.

If they had driven her to him, he should be grateful. Instead he felt hurt.

Still he offered her what he believed she sought. “I could protect
you,
tonight.”

There was that forlorn look again. Had he guessed correctly? The need to shelter her pounded within him with each heartbeat.

Again he saw that look of vulnerability, but she masked it with a slow smoldering scan of his body. Her leisurely assessment concluded when she glanced toward his bed. Cesar's muscles tightened, all coiled potential waiting for her to decide. That was the way with her kind. The females chose their mate and the males did all that they could to be worthy. He glanced at his bed, as well. Did she find his nest suitable? Would she see him as a good provider, attentive? He hoped she would let him stroke her fine long legs and more secret places. It was hard to remain still when his body screamed for him to take her in his arms, fling her to his bed and devour her. He hadn't even kissed her, yet here he was, wanting her more than any other woman he had ever met in his long, lonely life.

Say yes, Bess.

She didn't move. He stepped toward her and she slid away, so he paused, waiting for her to come to him.

Bess motioned to his chest and he felt a foreshadowing.

“Is that a gunshot wound?” She motioned to the puckering scar below his collarbone.

“In the line of duty.”

“Who shot you?”

He hesitated, not wanting to go there. “Long story for another time.”

Was she going to be stubborn? She regarded him a long moment. “You'll tell me sometime?”

He nodded, trying not to sigh in relief at the reprieve.

“It looks like it's over your heart.”

He rubbed the tiny puckering scar under his collarbone with his index finger.

“It missed.”

“Good news for you and for me.”

“Come here,” he ordered.

She didn't.

“I've got concerns,” she said. “The same thing that makes this coupling unique is also what disturbs me.”

Coupling. Yes, that was what he wanted, to couple, to quench the hot, thrumming need to mate and claim her as no one else had ever done. His body rang like a bell with his need.

“I don't want attachments. So you understand. I'm not here for that.”

“Except the obvious one,” he said.

She smiled. “Yes. There's that.”

“I'm not going to fall in love with you, Bess. I'm only going to make love to you, all night if you let me.”

“And then let me go.”

“If that's what you want.”

“That's the way it must be. At the end of the day, you are still my enemy.”

Some of his desire died in the knowledge that she
didn't want him any more than any of the women of his race. She came to him at night, under cover of darkness as if he was some dirty secret she didn't want anyone to know about.

Why did he let that hurt him? He was getting what he wanted, wasn't he? And he didn't need a Skinwalker in his life any more than she wanted a Spirit Child in hers. Still he couldn't keep his jaw from locking as all of the tenderness left him. She wanted what he gave the others, a night of ecstasy followed by a quick goodbye.

“One night. No strings,” he promised.

She cocked her head at him again, as if uncertain. “We need to get this out of our systems, whatever it is. Don't you agree?”

He nodded, knowing it was a lie. He'd never get Bess out of his system. She continued on.

“It's distracting. Better to face it head-on than ignore it. We'll satisfy the need in the normal way, find release and then we can get back to our lives.”

“You said you'd fly to the Spirit World, speak to the mothers.”

“I will.”

He wondered if she kept her promises.

“We'll find out who sired those things. Then when we part, it will be for good.”

When. Not if,
when
we part.

His lip twitched in that uncontrollable tell of his rage and shame.

“Sure, baby, anything you say.”

Her eyes narrowed on him. Oh, she didn't like being called baby? Well, he didn't like her showing him the door before he even knocked.

“Maybe this is a bad idea,” she hedged.

“Maybe. So you going to fly away or you want to screw?”

Her neck increased in length as she stared haughtily at him. He lowered his chin and glared, his lust cementing into wrath.

“I think I deserved that.”

Now she had him off balance again. What did she deserve?

“When I left you, I went back to the forest.”

A cold chill went through him, as he imagined her there in the darkness with those things, out where he couldn't protect her.

“That was stupid.”

“I live there, remember?”

He hadn't. “I thought you lived on Russian Hill.”

“Rarely. I live in the forest, sometimes in human form. I also have a lodge just outside the state park with a king-size bed, but most nights I sleep near the top of a redwood with other ravens. On a clear night I can see the moon reflecting on the waves of the ocean.”

“But now it's not safe. So you came here.”

She nodded.

He hated the idea of being her last hope when he wanted to be her first thought and only desire.

“You can stay here without sleeping with me.”

“Cesar, I could have gone to my lodge or back to my apartment or anywhere else in the wide world. I have enough money to buy this building and I have friends who would protect me with their lives. But I didn't go to them. I came here.”

The desire was back, simmering like hot sugar, thickening with each bubbling beat of blood.

“I'm sorry about my earlier comment.”

She nodded. “You excite me, Cesar. Intrigue me.
This connection makes me curious. It's my nature to be curious.” She stepped toward him.

“Thank God for that, then.” He met her halfway. “I'm curious, too.”

She opened her robe, holding the lapels out so he could see her body. The satin fabric billowed like wings. Beneath, she wore a sheer concoction of molded lace that clung to every perfect curve and hollow, while revealing her cinnamon-colored nipples through the sheer fabric. Her form was slim and lithe as a dancer, her waist narrow, her hips barely flared. The high-cut panties made her legs look impossibly long.

“This your style?” she asked. “Or this?”

The soft lace and satin ribbons grew solid, transforming before his eyes into a shiny leather bustier and formfitting pants. She stood on heels so high that he thought he'd need a stepladder just to reach her mouth. Bess made the ideal dominatrix. But he didn't swing that way.

“Take it off.”

“What?”

“You asked about my style. I want to see you naked in my bed. That's my style. So your feather cape, take it off.”

 

Bess pressed a hand to her throat and felt her own pulse pounding there. No one had ever said that to her.

Cesar did not cower. He was not driven away by fear of her power, for he had powers equal to her own. And that made this a first all around.

She smiled, knowing already it would be so good between them. Superficial, of course, but good. He had everything he needed to keep her content and she al
ready itched to run her hands over all that exposed, damp male flesh.

Bess touched her shoulder and the shiny leather facade slipped away, leaving her in her human form, shielded by her feather mantle all the way to midthigh. The glossy cloak shone iridescent, flashing deep green, blue and purple as she moved to release the cord about her neck. She used her index finger and thumb to draw the leather tie, releasing the bow.

Cesar seemed to be holding his breath. His jaw clenched and his expression reminded her of a man in pain. Yes, the wanting was like that with her, too, so strong it hurt.

“Dim the lights, so we can see our auras.”

Cesar moved to the window, needing to close it to bar her escape.