Chapter 16
Bliss.
Tonya stretched, luxuriating in the delicious feel of having Alan holding her, petting her arm, and pressing tiny kisses to her forehead.
There were problems, she knew. Dark in her mind was his clear intention to commit suicide by vengeance.
The man was a lawyer, for God’s sake, not a vigilante.
But she had faith in her ability to make him see reason.
Especially after the amazing sex they’d just had.
He’d asked to make love with her, and that’s exactly what they’d done. Created, shared, and reveled in love.
No man gave up on something that good. And no woman, either. She just had to get his head out of his ass. And that was item number one on her to-do list.
She rolled over slowly, curling into his arms so that she could lick his neck. He chuckled and leaned in for a long, slow kiss. Which lasted about a half second before a thumping on the door jolted them both upright.
“Tonya! Alan! I’m coming in!”
Carl. Alan’s brother and alpha to the Gladwin shifters. And just the person she really did not want to see right now.
“Don’t you dare!” she bellowed right back. “This is an active crime scene!”
Alan pulled back with a frown. “What?”
She shrugged, her face heating. “I’m a cop. I get to declare crime scenes. It’s part of the job description.”
He snorted, then jumped out of bed heading for the bathroom, though he paused long enough to toss her clothes at her.
Meanwhile, she could hear Carl futzing with the padlock on the door.
She glanced at Alan, worried about his reaction to the sound.
She knew he heard it by the way his shoulders stiffened.
Then, even worse, his gaze cut to the iron ring in the floor.
But he didn’t say anything, and she didn’t have any way to make it better, so they both pretended it never happened as they hastily dressed.
Then the door opened, but Carl didn’t come down. Instead, he waited out of sight at the top of the stairs.
“How we doing down here?” he called
He knew exactly how they were doing because the idiot had a nose. “We’re fine,” she snapped, sarcasm dripping from every word. “How are you?”
She actually heard Carl swallow anxiously before he spoke. “I’ve got a change of clothes. For both of you. Mark’s back at Gladwin PD working with them on...I don’t know. Computer shit. Tracking the cat bitch.”
Alan had been washing up in the sink, but he flipped off the water at that. “Any leads?”
“One. Maybe.” He hesitated. “Can I come down now?”
“No,” Alan answered before Tonya could say yes. “Toss the clothes down first.”
A duffel bag landed with a heavy thud. Tonya grabbed it, unzipped it and pulled out an impressively complete set of clothes and toiletries. “No way did you pack this,” Tonya said as she pulled out shorts and shirt for herself. Then she slid the bag across the floor to Alan.
Carl answered, still from the top of the stairs. “Becca did it. I was chasing a dead end in Detroit.”
There were probably other reasons he’d been in Detroit, but Tonya didn’t go there. They had plenty on their plates right here, right now.
Alan held pressed khaki pants next to his hips.
Even Tonya could see that they wouldn’t fit though they’d been his typical summer attire for years.
His legs were longer now, his hips wider, and the crotch would likely be uncomfortably tight.
He must have come to the same conclusion because he dropped them with a sneer.
Instead, he grabbed a pair of dark blue Dockers with the tag still on it.
Trust Becca to guess that he might need larger clothing.
The woman had an eye for detail that Tonya admired.
Alan snapped off the tag with a quick jerk of his wrist, then pulled on the shorts. Tonya couldn’t help but watch the flex of his body as he dressed. The man had muscles, that’s for damn sure. The change had cut his body fat down to zero, and she was woman enough to admire the result.
Sadly, she couldn’t stand there gawking. Not with her alpha grumbling under his breath at the top of the stairs. “I’ll be two seconds in here,” she said as she headed for the bathroom. She’d meant her words to be just for Alan, but shifter ears heard everything.
“Take as long as you need,” Carl said. “We’ve got a town, not an exact address. Mark will text as soon as he knows something more.”
Alan hauled her close enough to whisper into her ear. “Do you want a moment? A shower or something?”
Hot water and a couple minutes to regroup? That sounded like heaven. “God, yes,” she murmured. “But—”
Alan turned his head toward the stairs. “Go get us coffee,” he ordered. “You know what we want.”
“Jesus, Alan, I’m not your—”
“Not negotiating. Go.”
That was harsh. Not the words, but the tone. Alan had always been polite, even when angry. He could make a “please” or “thank you” sound like the biggest middle finger, but he hadn’t even attempted that here. Instead he’d snapped out his words and underpinned them with a growl.
Damn. It was sexy in a disturbingly different kind of way.
Carl must have heard it, too. She could almost feel him trying to suss out the situation from the top of the stairs.
But in the end, he decided on prudence rather than a show of power.
With alphas, especially ones as testosterone-filled as Carl, one never knew when temperament would overcome good sense.
But Carl was a logical thinker, and so in the end, he made the correct choice and headed back out. After a parting shot, of course.
“I’m not getting any froufrou shit.”
Good, because she didn’t want any. It was Alan who usually preferred the gourmet stuff. But one glance at his face told her he didn’t give a good goddamn what his brother did, just so long as the man left.
“Go on,” Alan said as he nudged her into the bathroom. “The convenience store is just up the street. He’ll be back quick.”
She nodded and headed in, but she kept her eyes on Alan until he shut the door for her.
He was acting strange. Certainly great sex tended to mellow a man, but Alan was being almost genial.
Calm. Contained. Nothing alarming in word or deed.
Given the roller coaster of emotions of the last twenty-four hours, that seemed too good to be true.
Sadly, there was nothing she could do about it except worry. And take a really fast shower.
Would he even be here when she got out? The door was open now. There was nothing keeping him here. Hell, what if—
“I’m not leaving,” he said through the door, obviously reading her mind. “Take your time.”
Did she trust his answer? Yes. Did she still take the fastest damned shower in her life?
Absolutely. So much for grabbing a few moments to regroup.
She was so worried about what Alan might do in her absence, she rushed through everything.
But at least she was clean, though even that gave her mixed emotions.
She’d hated washing the scent of him off her skin.
Without that lingering smell, it felt like the last twenty-four hours had been a dream.
She wondered if Alan felt the same way. Was his every other thought a reliving of their encounter, too?
Did his heart squeeze in excitement because he hadn’t used a condom?
The odds were slim, but she might become pregnant.
She’d known the moment he’d thrust inside her that they’d both forgotten protection.
She hadn’t had the breath to say anything at the time and, frankly, she hadn’t cared.
Right then, she’d wanted his child more than just about anything.
So she’d gone with it, and now they would both have to live with the consequences.
She pulled on light jeans and a clean tank, stepping out of the bathroom even before she’d zipped up. The room was empty. Her breath nearly choked her as it froze in her throat. It took her two tries, but she finally managed a semblance of calm as she started climbing the stairs.
“Alan, so help me God—”
“Upstairs,” he interrupted. And he was. Prowling around the main floor, poking his nose—literally—into every corner. He was using his shifter senses to learn what he could about the house.
Smart. She and Mark had done the exact same thing before settling in to wait for Alan.
“There’s not much to learn,” she said, pleased that her voice was steady though her heart was anything but. “Elisabeth and two shifters were here. All cougars, we think, but—”
“Altered,” he said. “The kids. They’re altered. Like me.”
Well, at least he hadn’t called them monsters. That was progress, she hoped.
“Yeah,” she agreed.
“You and Mark find anything else?”
She shook her head, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Nothing except for really a bad taste in cereal.” She gestured to the kitchen cabinet. He opened it to find healthy high-fiber stuff that tasted like shit.
“Diarrhea is a side effect of the drugs,” he said.
His tone was flat and hard, and she shuddered at the image.
To be trapped in a cage while that was going on?
Nightmare. Especially for the usually debonair Alan.
As if to prove his point, he popped open the refrigerator and saw a mostly finished bottle of Pepto-Bismol.
There were also a rather impressive amount of vegetables and a half dozen eggs.
“Think we have time for an omelet?” he asked.
Her stomach growled in response, and he flashed her a smile.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He pulled out the food and set it on the counter. A moment later, he’d found a frying pan and breakfast was begun. Tonya eased forward, leaning against the counter as she studied him, unease coiling in her chest.
“How are you feeling, Alan?”
He didn’t even look up. “Fine. How about you?” He shot her a look as thorough as it was quick.