Hometown Pride, page 4
I should back—
Her hands clamped onto his face and she pulled his mouth down to hers.
This kiss was nothing like the ice cream kiss in her kitchen a few nights before with his sour lemon mixing with her dark chocolate. This one was coffee overlaid by peppermint Tic Tacs overlaid by lust. Desperate lust. When he stepped back slightly to give her space and found the back of the couch right behind his ass, she pressed forward straddling his leg, rubbing herself on him while her thigh pressed into his cock, fumbling with his t-shirt until her hands grasped the bare skin of his waist.
He let go of her for a moment and yanked the shirt over his head. He sucked in his belly again.
She bit his pec and he forgot about his belly and almost came in his pants.
The next minute was a flurry of scrabbling at her shirt and her bra clasps, then her soft breasts were in his hands and she was yanking his fly down and shoving his boxers out of the way as she grasped him.
He gasped and they both froze. She jerked her head up to look him square in the eyes. Her eyes had gone yellow again, but with desire instead of anger, the lioness considering him carefully. The lion in him was watching her, too, wanting her.
Then she squeezed his cock and the fire reignited. He opened her jeans and shoved his hand down into her underwear to find her wet and ready for him.
A flurry of movement as she stepped away from him and shoved down her jeans and underwear, kicking them off, yanking her shoes off when they got in the way. He got behind her and shoved her forward so her elbows were on the back of the couch, her round ass pointed at him.
She brought her hand back and grabbed his thigh. “Fuck me hard,” she commanded, her nails digging into him, feeling like her claws were half-shifted.
“Wait. Condom,” he gasped out.
She froze.
“You want cubs,” he growled, but he was frantically digging his wallet from his shorts and pulling out a condom, tearing into it, and hoping it wasn’t too old and wouldn’t break. Or maybe he hoped it would break, but he didn’t have time to think with her pheromones clouding the air.
“Maybe. Not yet.”
Not with you, her answer implied. He’d think about that later. He was busy.
“Fuck me!”
He stroked into her, heat enveloping his cock, and froze again, deep in her, his hands on her waist, claws protruding.
And he was lost to good sense, leaning over her, his hands on her breasts, pinching her nipples as she whimpered and yowled and pushed back against him. He reached down between her legs, feeling his own balls as they slapped against her as he stroked her clit.
She came apart under him, claws digging into the back of the sofa and into his thigh as she clenched around him rhythmically, yowling, driving him over the edge until he roared and pulsed into her.
He came to a few seconds later, half-laying on top of her hands braced on the back of the couch, still semi-hard inside her, her ass pressed against his pelvis, sweat pooling between their bodies. He tasted the back of her neck and licked her ear, which made her shudder.
“Angelica,” he sighed.
She froze again. What was it with her freezing up? “Could you…?” She wiggled her hips and he started to get hard again. She stood up though, forcing him to pull out and back up a step. She looked around and snatched her clothes up from the floor.
“Hey,” he said, reaching for his pants and untangling the boxers from them, then bending to pull them on.
She stalked down the hall and he heard the door of the half bath under the stairs close. He grabbed a tissue from his pocket and disposed of the condom. A couple of minutes later, the toilet flushed and water ran as she washed her hands. She came back out, dressed again, though smelling like sex, her face hard and unreadable.
“Thank your brother-in-law for the use of his truck. I’ll drop him a note, too, but it might be a few days.”
“Hey,” he purred as he walked toward her, hand out to take hers.
She dodged him. “I have to go make sure all my stuff is out of the house. Just a last walk-through and I’ll vacuum the living room so the cleaners don’t think I’m a slob, but I did everything else last night and this morning.” She kept talking as she walked away from him. “Thanks for your help.”
And she was gone.
Carol called her at ten that night as she was getting ready to sleep on the futon, still jumping back and forth between thrill at how good sex with Tremaine had been and how stupid.
“It has to be now.”
“What does?” The pieces clicked in her brain. “Oh. Right now?”
“The parents are at a movie with the Jacksons.” The Jacksons knew their plans, were their allies, and had been the go-betweens.
Angelica was already pulling a sweater over the t-shirt she was going to sleep in and jamming her feet into flip-flops. “What happened?”
“He broke that little boy’s arm, Angel.” Her mentor breathed in raspily. She was crying. “The hospital wanted to call in CPS. There’s probably a file open on them already. And then that asshole insisted they go see a movie and leave the babies home alone. The mom called me.”
The boys were hardly babies, but certainly too young to be home alone with one of them with an arm broken the same day. “Dammit. We should’ve moved them sooner.”
“We didn’t have anywhere to put them and Ella wouldn’t listen,” her mentor replied. “But I called up B and they’re scrambling.”
“B” was a couple who lived almost a hundred miles away. No names were ever used and all Angel, known as “G”, had was a burner phone number.
Angelica let out a sigh as she grabbed the wallet out of her purse and shoved her hair up in a clip.
“You have the address?” They changed the exact drop place each time.
“No. Text it to me.” She armed the alarm and locked the door behind her.
“I’ll call on your other phone when you have them.”
So the pride couldn’t trace the address from her phone. Angel knew the drill.
“It’s a couple of hours away,” Carol warned.
“I know. The farther the better. I don’t have a job to go to in the morning. I do my best hunting at night anyway.”
That repetition of one of Carol’s favorite sayings earned her a watery chuckle.
They hung up with a whispered be careful.
She ran on tiptoes down a side street that dead ended in the forest and slipped into the garage of a sympathetic pride mate where Carol parked her extra, secret car, the one with darkened windows and a GPS system that could be erased.
Chapter four
“Like with non-shifter lions, the lionesses truly run the pride. The males will posture and fight among themselves, but the power of procreating and, in the case of shifters, of housing, jobs, family, and children, resides in the females. Males are often possessive, but if the lioness objects, he has very little power, either through pride custom or brute strength, to do anything about it. He is sure to be physically bigger, sometimes even able to defeat them in a fight, but lionesses are the hunters and defenders of the pride. And they’re swift, sneaky, and persistent.”
Ogden, Elizabeth. "Lone Wolves, Alphas, and Non-Pack Shifters". In M. Renard, L. Dugan, E. Ogden, et al. The Shifter-Watcher's Handbook: A Guide to North American Herds, Prides, and Packs. (3rd ed., vol. 1, pp 99-131). Random Penguin House.
“You can’t go in there growling like that and expect to be hired as a children’s librarian.”
Even over the phone, Macey could hear Angelica’s low rumble at the mention of Freight Train Jones. She’d been a complete mess ever since he’d helped her move and the earth had moved. Her best friend was needling her for details she didn’t want to give. Angelica took a deep breath and sighed. “You’re right. I need to stop staring into space, too. So make me forget him for a bit. This is a goddamn job interview.”
“No growling. Then you need to stop fucking cussing.” Macey snickered.
“Shit and hellfire,” she said on purpose to keep her best friend laughing.
“OK, now tell me why you are the right person for this job.”
“Dammit, Mace…”
“No, tell me. Remember I do job counseling a few hours a week on campus, so you can trust me. You have ten minutes before you need to go in, right? Get yourself pumped up for this.”
Angelica scowled. “You know, I have no idea.”
“Aw come on. You’ve been doing this job and every other job at the pride library for three years.”
“OK. I’m smart, efficient, I know the library systems and love books.”
“You told me their website said some shit about customer service.”
“I’m a bitch on wheels, but I know my shit and will bend over backwards to help. I will be the devoted slave of anyone who needs me or is kind to me.” And hadn’t she made a fool of herself before for a scrap of affection? Tremaine hadn’t even texted her, even after she mailed him a thank you note. She was getting more and more glad he’d thought of the condom, because sex obviously meant more to her than to him.
She was the one who’d fled as soon as they finished, but she preferred to think of it as a strategic retreat.
Macey laughed again. “Devoted slave? Let’s hope they don’t run drug tests because you must be high.”
“I’m loyal.”
“Yeah, loyal, not devoted slave. As if you could stop mouthing off.”
“Fuck. I don’t…”
She spotted movement out of the corner of her eye just as a sharp knock sounded on her window, making her drop her phone as she twisted to see who it was.
Tremaine Jones, hand braced on the roof of her car, peered in. Here in Middleton.
“Angel? You there?” Her best friend didn’t even sound worried. But then, she knew how often Angelica dropped stuff.
She narrowed her eyes at Tremaine and picked up the phone. “Yeah, Macey. Just dropped my phone. I gotta go.”
She turned off her motor, which she had on for the A/C as the intermittent sun was cooking the insides of her car, and shoved her door open, making Tremaine hop back.
He jerked his chin toward the library. “You going in there?”
Macey squawked from Vermont, but Angelica hung up.
“Yeah.”
He nodded, his eyes never once leaving her face. “I’m avoiding the pride library now. Started doing my searches online, but sometimes I get stuck. They’re nice in there.”
“I’m interviewing for the assistant librarian job. They’d closed the application process already, but Carol pulled some strings.” Her phone buzzed – probably Macey texting her.
He smiled and the sun came out.
It literally came out from behind a cloud, spreading yellow light over everything. Her heart rose even though it was a coincidence of nature and timing.
“That’s good. I hope they hire you.” He licked his lips, just a touch of tongue on the corner of his mouth.
She wanted to drop to her knees and open his jeans and…
Her eyes must have gone lion and, shit, she was starting to get wet and was giving off pheromones, because his eyes went yellow, too and his scent intensified. She stepped away. “My interview’s in a few minutes.”
“Coffee after?”
She hesitated, then sighed because she lusted for this lion so much that she could barely think of anything else. She’d spent ten days rereading the pack history books Carol had on her shelves, by chance (ha) looking up Tremaine’s family tree, but she’d spent more time gazing out of windows and sighing. Even masturbating had lost its allure, compared to the memory of Tremaine groaning her name.
“Sure. Coffee.” She pulled her handbag up higher on her shoulder and turned away again.
“You’re good with cubs. Kids.” His voice was right at her ear.
She turned and only his speed kept her from bashing his mouth with her head. “What?”
“A couple times I came in and you were reading to the kids. Story time. And you had a cub sleeping in your lap and a little kid draped across your back, looking over your shoulder, more of them leaning on your legs.”
“Their mothers need me to…”
“You think the kids are draping themselves across Lipstick? I haven’t been in lately, but I bet they aren’t.”
She shook her head. “They know me.”
“Yeah, and their moms trust you. You think you could fool a lioness into letting her cub climb on you? They know the babies are safe with you. The babies know they’re safe.”
Angelica nodded. “OK.”
“And you know about books and are willing to help people. How long will this take? I have to hit the hardware store and see a guy about a porch, but can wait for you if it’s going to be less than an hour.”
Bossy fucker. “I don’t know. Probably not more than half an hour.”
“I’ll scope out the coffee shops. Text me when you’re done?”
She agreed and started for the front door.
“I’m looking forward to that devoted slave bit, myself,” he muttered behind her, his voice shifter-quiet.
She turned to watch him walk away, the threads of gray in his black hair sparkling in the sunlight, t-shirt stretching across his shoulders and jeans across his round ass, his chuckle trailing behind, the few people on the street giving him a wide berth. She yearned to follow him.
Which was why she hadn’t texted him, either. She had to have more self-respect than that. Her phone buzzed again, but it was Macey dishing up mockery and wishing her good luck.
Twenty minutes later, Tremaine’s phone chimed with an incoming text. He’d just picked out the perfect coffee shop and had been hesitating to order.
Angelica: Done
Me: Turn right as you come out one block down sugar
A slight pause.
Angelica: You’re calling me Sugar? What about Sour?
He chuckled and wished he had the right to either of those. He used sentences and punctuation this time, though: The name of the bakery is Sugar. They do espresso. Meet you outside.
He strode out and down the sidewalk, jogging across a little side street to meet Angelica a few steps from the library’s front door.
She nodded at him like they were acquaintances. He took her hand and squeezed it, holding onto it in spite of her efforts to pull away as he half-dragged her in silence back up the street to the bakery.
She tugged her hand away as they went into the shop. She ordered a double espresso and an enormous cinnamon roll. He ordered black coffee with room for cream. She frowned when he dodged past her and paid for both of them.
They stood in silence while the teen made espresso, then chose a table in a corner, where she faced the room. He pulled his chair around next to her so their knees would touch, which was the first thing he did: rubbing his jeans up against her bare knee under that pencil skirt. She pulled away sharply.
“How’d it go?” he asked softly.
She shrugged. “OK, I guess. I told them I knew books and was good with kids. They acted like they liked me and said they’d call me.”
“All that took twenty minutes?”
“Ten, actually.” She smiled slightly, looking down into her small coffee cup at the black ooze there.
“And?”
“And I don’t know. They sounded positive, but hadn’t finished interviewing. With a little tweaking, this would be a transfer within the system, even though I quit at Freiburg. One of the interviewers was a librarian whom I know slightly because we call each other to put books on hold for patrons or to ask questions. She’s a lynx from the pack east of here. That could either help or hurt.”
“What? No shifter solidarity?”
“If Ella decides to make my life hard, they’d have to fire me and start over. There’s probably at least one lynx interviewing for the job anyway. Pack solidarity.”
Tremaine wanted to growl. He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “But if she doesn’t hire you, you’ll be hanging around the pride with nothing to do, stirring up trouble.”
She sighed and looked smaller and less confident, less Angelica-like, without her spikes and scowls. “Or I’ll move to Vermont. Ella would be happier if I did that.”
His heart felt like it was going to seize up. Was that really an option? “But I wouldn’t be happier.”
She rolled her eyes, sass coming back. “You’re not the center of the universe, Freight Train.”
“Of course I am.” He smirked.
When she glanced up at him, she blushed a deep red, her smell changing to arousal again, but she pulled her leg away when he bumped it. “Look, this isn’t going to work between us.”
Well, ouch. “Why not? We like each other and we’re hot for each other.”
That stymied her. “My life is shitty right now. Even if I get this job, I still need to find a place to live and I’m still dealing with the animosity of the pride, especially Lyssa and Bradley. Bradley is third in command and he seems to want to push me out.”
“So you get this job here in Middleton, find an apartment, you lay low for a while. You act sweet and innocent if you happen to run into pride mates.”
She snorted a little laugh. “Sweet and innocent? Have you met me?”
He leaned forward, both elbows on the little table and his face inches from hers. “What do you think I’ve been doing for the last year? Laying low. Kissing up a little, but not too much. Being helpful, but staying out of their way.” Reconnaissance, he wanted to say. Or: what would you do if you knew Ella was going to be out on her ass soon? But they weren’t quite to the point where he spilled all his secrets. And they were in public.
“First of all, it’s lying low, not laying.”
He rolled his eyes. Of course, the grammar was first.
“Second, I’m not sweet and innocent. I’m no good at kissing up and worming my way into their hearts like…like heart worm. Or whatever it is you’re telling me to do. I’ve got this whole bundle of reasons to resent them and I only held out this long because my mother was dying and Carol was my boss. It was past time for me to come unstuck.”
