Experimenting on women, children for the production of a drug…. Just the thought swelled my anger, encouraging me to turn and seek out Doc Evil to make her pay. Thatch’s soft voice tugged me to him.
“And that’s why they were also trying to create shifters too. To create more blood for more experiments, and then more ingredients for drug production.”
The calmness in his voice belied the horror of his words. But making sense of it all eased my anger a little. Getting the facts, knowing it all, gave us power. It meant we could stop this from happening.
A quick glance at the time told me it was just gone six. “You think you can try to shift?” I asked, clutching the distraction. Plus, Thatch needed to be at full health. Not only for himself but my sanity too. Doc Holland had recommended a shift late afternoon, followed by a gentle stretch of his legs. I’d snorted at that. Trying to rein in a shifter when in animal form was ludicrous, but her stern gaze had told me enough: if he hurt himself, I’d be responsible.
“Can do.” He stood and stretched carefully, wincing slightly when his stomach pulled.
“I think we’re better off walking to the dam and taking a swim.” Logically it made sense. Paddling would be a better way to take it easy rather than me having to pounce on him to stop him running or biting his tail or something. I wasn’t sure how he’d handle the latter, even though I’d find it really entertaining.
When he looked nonplussed, I explained my reasons—without the pouncing and biting.
“That makes sense.”
Side by side, we walked the short distance to the dam. It was just turning dusk, with the sliver of moon already present but no stars yet out.
“How are you really feeling?” I asked, unsure if he’d answer truthfully or not, what with the bravado most of us in the agency carried, regardless of species or gender.
A few moments of silence followed before he answered. “Amazing, all things considered.” He paused as he reached the edge of the dam and angled towards me but focussed on the sky when he said, “It’s a bit hard to believe that a couple of months back in this same situation on the operation, I’d likely have been dead.” His head dropped, his gaze roaming my face, and my heart clenched at the truth of his words.
“I keep going over what-ifs.” He shook his head and exhaled. His voice was low, barely above a whisper, but crystal clear for my supernatural hearing. “If Hazel hadn’t gifted me with her abilities, last night—”
“I get it.” Or as much as I could since I was born a shifter so hadn’t known a human existence. “I can’t imagine how crazy all of this has been on you. Sometimes I forget you weren’t born this way,” I admitted. Since the reality of his turning interlocked with my sister’s death, it was undeniably the real reason I crammed that in the depths of my mind. It was safer for me there. “And….” I trailed off, hating the complexity of my feelings, hating the thoughts that barrelled into my head.
“And what?” he pushed.
Pressing my lips firmly together, I tempered my emotions as much as possible before admitting, “I’m relieved you’re here. Happy as hell that you’re a shifter and survived tonight.” Sentiment threatened to clog my throat, but with no sarcasm bubbling to the surface, no witty deflection on my tongue, I either needed to shut the hell up and jump in the dam or admit what was plaguing me. I snorted humourlessly.
“What’s wrong?” Thatch moved a fraction closer, his hand taking hold of my arm, giving a gentle squeeze that I worried would finally be my undoing.
“It’s all levels of screwed up, right?” I shook my head and made eye contact with him. “Me celebrating you’re a shifter and grateful for the fact. What’s that say about me, when the reason why you’re all those things is because my sister’s dead?” I didn’t breathe, couldn’t if I tried. The slightest of movements, reactions, and I could so easily fall apart.
When Thatch’s large hand clamped around my neck and his forehead touched mine, I gasped, inhaling deeply, luxuriating in the cooler evening air filling my lungs that tasted of Thatch. We stood in silence. Me breathing, and Thatch showing me the way with his controlled inhales and exhales.
A few minutes passed, though it could have been a lot longer considering the calm infusing my limbs. I felt heavy, wrung out. So bloody tired of it all.
“I’m sorry” tumbled out of my mouth. “You were seriously injured, and I’m meant to be the one looking after you. Instead, I’m here being fu—”
While his movement was fast, so incredibly so that it took me by surprise, his mouth on mine was soft. Thatch worked my lips with his, pressing against them, encouraging me to open for him. A flick of his tongue against the seam of my mouth had me groaning and heat licking up my spine.
Reacting to his mirrored groan, I threaded my hands through his short crop of hair. The sweetness disappeared. In its place, desire sprung to life.
The fear of finding him. The fear of losing him. My guilt. The pull he had over me since that moment in Crandore. Every single moment had led to this moment. Thank Christ any last scrap of resistance between the two of us shattered.
Dragging me closer to him, his hands worked my jeans. I took action immediately, my mission to shed his clothes something I was totally on board with. A guttural moan
