Shadow Wranglers: Slade Part 12

"What do weres know about courtship? You just jump in and claim."

"Shows what you know. A were woman gives herself totally over to her mate on claiming. It's up to the man to prove himself worthy before the bonding can take place."

That was news to Slade and explained why Derek hadn't just claimed his woman. Well, that and the fact that it was forbidden for a werewolf, especially an Alpha, to marry a vampire. Even one who'd been recently turned to save her life, at that Alpha's direction. "That's still not that modern an approach to relationships."

"Werewolf society is not that modern."

"You might want to start changing that."

And claim your woman.

For the first time Derek didn't come back with an emphatic no. Instead he shrugged. "Maybe."

Change for wolves often meant battle. "Hey."

The other man looked back, a question in his slate blue eyes.

"You know the Johnsons will support you. Whatever you decide."

It had always been understood, but for some reason, Slade felt it needed saying this time. Maybe because of the set of Derek's chin, which spoke of trouble coming. Maybe because common sense said the man was hurting.

"Thank you." Nodding toward the porch where Jane stood clutching the post, he said, "I think your woman has frozen to the railing."

"You might be right." Slade opened his senses, feeling Jane's energy pour in as smoothly as silk, a foreign softness that filled a void he'd never known he had. Along with the energy came emotion. She was scared, confused, and she wanted to be held. Not by him, but by a man from her past. Anger surged. It was his right to hold her. His right to soothe her. His arms should be the ones in which she wanted to shelter. Not some male who wasn't here and hadn't ever been there for her. A growl rumbled in his chest. Derek laughed. "Oh yeah, she's going to be charmed."

Slade bared his fangs at Derek. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

From the neutrality of his tone, it wasn't hard to guess what he needed to do. "Mei can still only accept your blood?"

"I don't know."

"How can you not know?"

Derek's grip on the gun tightened to white-knuckled. Much more and the barrel would bend. "Because I'd kill the first man she even approached for food."

It was an extreme reaction from an intense man, but looking toward the porch, imagining any other man touching Jane, Slade could understand it.

"Then maybe you'd better get back and take care of her."

"And maybe you'd better brush up on your charm."

If he didn't want the haunted look in Derek's eyes to take up residence in his own, maybe he'd better. "I'll do that."

"The sight of Slade Johnson putting on the charm might just be worth bringing Mei back from her hidey-hole to see."

Mei's hidey-hole was in town among the humans to whom she no longer belonged. It was the first time Derek had put into words what they'd all thought. Derek was the leader of a powerful pack. He couldn't keep leaving. Mei had no people in this world. The only thing that made sense was to bring Mei here and to h.e.l.l with all the complications that would bring. Slade settled his hat more firmly on his head as a wind kicked up.

Yup. Change was coming, and it wasn't all going to be good.

7.

THIS couldn't be good. Jane clung to the railing, battling the fuzzy cloud enveloping her brain. It felt as though she'd taken some sort of drug, but she knew she hadn't. Taking a deep breath, she fought the haze-mentally locating the heavy areas and imagining them lifting away. The next breath went the way of the first. Function without feeling. d.a.m.n it! She knew the air had to be cold. She could see the fog when she breathed out, but she couldn't feel it. Pressing her fingers against her temple, she rubbed. She needed to concentrate on feeling it. That was all. She just needed to concentrate. Looking out into the night, she could see nothing beyond the porch. Just black. Where the heck was a streetlight when she needed one?

She took another step. The world spun out of focus. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the post. Porch light lingered in a golden haze beyond her lids. She couldn't drive like this, which essentially curtailed her plan to sneak out, hot-wire a car, and escape. Not that she knew how to hot-wire a car, but she knew from the movies the basic process and the rest was purely deductive.

Ice crackled beyond the light. Leaning her cheek against the cool wood of the porch support, Jane squintedinto the darkness. Ashadow moved, took shape. Broad shouldered, lean hipped, determined. She'd know that stride anywhere. Slade. In the distance, a horse whinnied. Where was she? The man moved with a fluidity that made it seem as though he flowed through s.p.a.ce rather than strode. She licked her lips as she watched him, vaguely conscious of renewed sensation, even resenting it as he came into the moonlight. She really wished she could be content to be his prisoner. A man like Slade had a lot to offer a woman who'd been too long without a relationship. Heck, he had a lot to offer any woman. There was sensuality in his features, promise in his movements that said his grace wasn't restricted to walking. No metro-s.e.xual there. Slade was all man.

A second shadow stirred in the darkness, vaguely familiar. Derek? Fear rose, hit an invisible wall, and then ... disappeared in the resurging haze. She released her breath on a shivery sigh. At least the werewolf was staying back. She wasn't up to handling Slade and the wolf. Slade was wolf enough for her.

"I'm no wolf."

She blinked. There was only one way Slade could know what she was thinking. "You can read minds?"

"Some."

Some. An understatement, she bet. She grabbed the post with both hands, forcing herself to look into his too-knowing gaze. "Well, stay out of mine."

Slade stopped in front of her. "You don't look up to a fight."

"You'd be surprised." She would really like to tear something apart. As soon as she could get her muscles to listen to her mind.

"You also look a little cold."

"Do I?"

His gaze dropped to her chest. Her glance followed his. Her nipples were peaked. He could believe that was from cold. That worked for her. It was better than the truth-that he was a walking fantasy and she couldn't stop thinking how he'd look without that shirt on.

Stop. It's just the hormones talking.

Unfortunately everything feminine in her refused to listen to the warning her mind kept screaming. It kept trying to sidle up to him and make friends. To catch his eye. d.a.m.n hormones.

Slade's gaze came back to hers. A slight smile quirked his lips. "Absolutely."

"Well, I'm not."

"Then what are you?"

Confused. She was very confused. If she could just push the haze away, she was pretty sure she could come up with a clear answer to the questions in her mind. She licked her lips. Her tongue stuck to the dry skin. Yuck. "Thirsty. I'm very thirsty."

His head c.o.c.ked slightly to the side as he studied her.

"What are you? Some kind of warlock?"

He stepped onto the first porch step, bringing him level with her. Taking her hand in his, he placed it on his shoulder. His gaze caught hers. He had such beautiful eyes. Gray with flecks of green and blue that seemed to shimmer. His hand came around her waist, drawing her away from the post. "We've already established what I am."

He made it so easy to lean into him that she was doing it before she even recognized the impulse. A memory nudged the edges of her consciousness. "You're a vampire."

He swung her up in his arms as he climbed the steps, taking her with him back into the house. "You got it in one."

"I always get it in one."

"You don't sound too happy about that."

"It can be a curse."

It was easier for her to let him carry her, easier to rest her cheek against his shoulder and breathe his addictive scent, than to protest.

"How so?"

She yawned. "It scares men off."

He chuckled. "You need to start attracting better quality men."

The haze around her thoughts thickened. "I don't think there's a man for me."

"There's someone for everyone."

He carried her through the house with a familiarity she knew she should object to, she just couldn't remember why. "Why can't I think?"

He opened the door that led back to the bedroom she'd just vacated. "Because I'm stopping you."

"Why?"

"Because it's almost dawn, and I need to sleep."

She frowned, concentrating, knowing there was a connection between dawn and his need to sleep. It came to her as he laid her down on the bed. She couldn't see much of his expression. That hat he wore shadowed his face. She knocked it off as her head hit the pillow. She could see him then, the ruggedly masculine face, the distinct intelligence, the raw s.e.xuality. She touched her fingertips to the sharp plane of his cheekbone. His skin was very warm. Weren't vampires supposed to be cold? She grabbed the thought and held it tightly. Vampire. "You're a vampire."

He smiled as he unb.u.t.toned his shirt. "Yes, I am." With a shrug, he sent it to the floor, revealing a broad chest and well-developed pectorals covered with an intriguing mat of hair. She did like men with hair on their chests.

"I'm glad to hear it."

Had she said that out loud?

He kicked off his boots, slid his belt from its strap, and knocked his hat off the bed. "Move over."

In the aftermath of obeying, annoyance set in. Since when did she take orders from any man? Before she could slide back to her spot in the bed, he was there. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. She tumbled into him. His arm came around her waist, encouraging her closer. It was natural to bring her knee up. The denim of his jeans rasped against the soft flesh of her inner thigh. Her cheek nestled into the hollow of his shoulder. As she shifted, he pulled the blankets up over her. His scent came to her stronger, lulling her with the sense of security that always accompanied it. Safe. He made her feel so safe. A vague alarm bell went off. It was such a foreign sensation that she didn't trust it. She shouldn't trust it. She knew that. She just couldn't remember why.

Slade's other hand trailed over her forearm, her shoulder, to cup her head. He pressed gently. The sense of safety mellowed to a sense of rightness that seemed to sink into her soul along with his scent.

"Sleep, sweetness. We'll talk tonight."

Tonight would be too late. She frowned. Why? Why was tonight too late? She tried to push away. At least she thought she'd tried. "I need to think."

"No." His thumb stroked across her cheekbone. "You need to sleep."

And suddenly, the fog that was hazing her consciousness billowed outward like a light-obliterating sail, flowing past her defenses, obscuring all her concerns, leaving her with just that foreign, longed for, utterly compelling sense of... right.

THE house was pitch black when Jane awoke. She couldn't tell whether it was night or day, thanks to the heavy drapes on the window. For the moment, she didn't care. She was warm, secure, and the slow, steady sound of Slade's heart beneath her ear, beating in time with her own, created the illusion that she wasn't alone. She'd always hated being alone. And she'd always hated the weakness that made her mind solitude. But alone was better than trapped. Anything was better than trapped.

Dear G.o.d, she was in trouble. Even knowing what she knew about Slade, she was hesitant to disturb this moment. The sense of safety was just an illusion created to trap her. Vampire or not, Slade was very good. It hadn't even taken him twenty-four hours to find her one weakness and exploit it. And worse, she'd let him. At the very least, she should have seen it coming. Jane considered that. Thinking back, she tried to pinpoint the exact moment that Slade had taken over her mind. All she could remember was being tired, that feeling of safety, and then everything going dark. The same way it had last night. Apparently, her defenses were weak when she was tired, and he'd taken advantage of that. She didn't know if he could take advantage when she was rested, but she wasn't going to hang around and find out.

Jane eased her head off Slade's chest-his perfectly sculpted, made-to-be-nibbled-and-kissed chest. Slade didn't move. Neither did she, for a second. Hormones could be a pain. Vampire. d.a.m.n, it felt weird even thinking the word. Couldn't survive sunlight. Some legends said they couldn't stay awake while the sun shone, which, if she extrapolated from Slade's deep sleep, would make now her best time to escape.

Staying under the covers so as not to wake him with a draft, Jane inched across the mattress, creating as few percussions as she could. When she got to the edge, she just let her legs slide off, feeling for the floor with her toes. The floor was cold. She hated cold floors. Just one more reason to hold a grudge against Slade. As if his taking control of her mind wasn't enough.

Tugging her nightgown down from where it gathered around her waist, she stood. The first order of business was to get her clothes. She held the cloth away from her body. It was voluminous, easy to slip over her head. The question of who'd done the slipping on would have to be addressed later. Her cheeks heated as she imagined Slade taking off her bra. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s peaked. Her breaths shortened. Oh, for Pete's sake! This was ridiculous. As if she needed more incentive to leave, the unruliness of her hormones made it imperative.

Opening the top drawer of the bureau, she found a pair of sweats. They were too big, but at this point she couldn't be choosy. Slade stirred on the bed. A frown creased his forehead. His palm slid across the mattress. If she didn't do something to soothe that restlessness, she'd never get away.

Carefully tugging the sweatshirt down over her head, Jane debated her options. There was only one. And it was a gamble, but not so big, because if he woke before she'd gotten a good distance away, there'd be no escape. She'd seen enough of his abilities to know that.

Moving quickly, she took the two steps to the bed. The closer she got, the more right it felt. Was he controlling her mind even in sleep? As abhorrent as the thought was, it didn't dilute the pleasure that pulsed up her fingertips as she touched the beard-roughened flesh of his cheek. He was a beautiful man. She drew her fingers back, rubbing her thumb across the tips, holding on to the sensation. Not a man, she corrected herself as the urge to touch him increased. Vampire, not human. Dangerous. Definitely not for her. He stirred again. It was no hardship to cup his cheek gently in her palm and whisper, "I'm right here."

He settled immediately. She left her hand there until his breathing evened out and his heartbeat slowed. And hers, too, she realized. It was absolutely time to go.

Jane stumbled over her shoes at the end of the hall. The minute it took to tie them felt like an eternity. Every two seconds, she felt compelled to look over her shoulder toward the bedroom, worried that Slade would follow, worried he wouldn't. The latter scared the s.h.i.t out of her. She didn't depend on anyone. Ever.

Straightening, she took a breath and steadied her shaky nerves. She was pretty sure that everyone expected her to sleep as long as Slade did. Since only he interacted with her, it was likely he was the equivalent of her personal bodyguard. Or maybe just guard. Who knew? Certainly not her. As she felt along the wall, her fingers b.u.mped a jut of smooth wood. Further exploration revealed more wood on the other side, rather than gla.s.s. A door, and from the chill permeating the wood, one to the outside. Perfect. She felt along the wall on either side of the door frame, searching for evidence of an alarm system. She didn't touch any sensors. That didn't mean they didn't exist, but she didn't have time for further precautions. This was definitely an all-or-nothing moment.

"You should probably know there are two werewolves on the other side of the door, ready to pounce."

"Jesum Crow!" Jane spun around, clutching her chest, peering through the darkness for the source of that feminine voice.

A light turned on. She blinked, momentarily blinded, fumbled for the door handle, and, remembering the werewolves, reconsidered when she found it.

"If you're not quiet, you'll wake Slade, and neither of us wants that."

Blinking, she said, "I certainly don't."

A woman sat on the three-cushion leather couch. She had shoulder-length brown hair with bangs cut in a fringe above tired blue eyes. Jane's first impression was of a rather plain woman, but then the woman smiled and that all changed. Her smile animated her whole face, transforming it into something else. Something compelling, inviting.

"Good, then get away from the door before the McClarens come in to see what's up."

Jane did, but only because she didn't want to be anywhere near anything werewolf. "Do they know you're here?"

"Nope." The grin that accompanied that statement showed no sign of remorse. "They think I'm tucked up in bed with Caleb."

"They can't ... sense you?"

"Not if I shield."