Bending Steele (3 page)

Steele flashed blunt teeth that quickly
morphed to fangs as she landed on the ledge next to him on four
paws. She swatted at him, claws sheathed. Impatient.
Lead the
way
. Steele tilted her head towards the winding path and Hexe
got the hint. He bounded up the small notches in the cliff, scaling
the mountainside using nothing more than the smallest ledges.

Steele followed him, watching his lean body
leap from rock to rock, all the while his words resonated in her
head.

I have my reasons.

And Steele wanted to know just what those
were.

***

Hexe led her along the cliffs, through the
forests that skimmed the mountain range, slowly winding his way
towards the log house cabin nestled at the edge of a small valley,
surrounded by a pine forest. Hexe tilted his head back and watched
as she padded after him, head low, ears twitching. Skittish.

Hexe slipped behind an evergreen and shifted
back to human, clothes still perfectly intact. He listened for her
approach, the steady pad of her coming closer and suddenly he
stepped out, blocking her path. Steele crouched automatically, long
fangs flashing under her lips as she shimmered, suddenly a woman
standing in front of him.

“You keep trying to scare me.” She reached
out and ran a finger down his zipper. “I can’t imagine why.”

Hexe caught her hand in his, holding tight as
he closed the distance between them in a single step. In an
instant, her almost relaxed stance turned hard, stiff. He slid a
hand behind her back, pausing for a second to see what she did.
Nothing. She just stared up at him, waiting. Almost daring him to
keep pressing. So Hexe just stood there, letting time melt away
between them.

Finally, “What were your reasons?”

Hexe gave his head a slight shake. “No.”

“Bullshit. Come on. Why me?”

“I will tell you,” he whispered. “But not
now. You don’t trust me—”

“I’ll never trust you.” She started to step
away, but Hexe held her firm. Her teeth gritted, but she stopped
fighting him. She didn’t want to fight. That was one thing he’d
learned while watching her. She never
wanted
to fight.

Hexe dipped his head closer to hers, his nose
skimming along the line of her jaw and he finished the words she
didn’t say. “You’ll never trust anyone.”

He tilted his back to look at her, eyeing the
cold resolve she clung to. “No.”

“
Have
you ever trusted anyone?”

Steele didn’t answer. She turned away and
stared resolutely out into the woods around them. Hexe, however,
wasn’t about to give up that easily. He waited, leaning closer to
breathe the scent of her in. She smelled of fur, evergreens, and
the slightest hint of peppermint. He wondered what she’d taste
like. Sweet, tangy, maybe spicy.

When Steele didn’t try and pull away he
nipped over her jaw and felt the muscles in her back flex, even
through the thick layers of her coat. He angled his head lower and
nipped over her pulse, following the line of his teeth with a small
swipe of his tongue. A hiss slid between her teeth. He glanced back
up at her face and saw her still staring away.

Why she didn’t fight right now confused him.
What he’d said had hit a nerve, he got that part. But normally she
lashed out when someone got too close. More specifically, she
lashed out whenever
he
got too close.

What this false passivity meant, Hexe wasn’t
sure.

“Turn your head, Steele. Face me head
on.”

He watched as the muscle in her jaw
tightened.

“You never stop, do you?” The words came out
soft and her gaze darted his way and then away again.

He wasn’t sure what she meant and when she
didn’t elaborate he pressed a kiss against her neck. “Explain,” he
murmured against her skin.

“I’ll refuse to answer now, knock you on your
ass, threaten to gut you, hell I might even stab you…but you’re
just going to ask again, aren’t you? And again and again. Or you’ll
ask a different question. You just don’t stop.”

“Then talk to me.” That simple statement
brought the barest hint of a laugh from her and it made him smile.
This time when he kissed her neck, he lingered, letting his lips
toy over the sensitive skin. She leaned into his touch and when he
pulled away her eyes were closed. He let her go. “So you do
warm.”

When her eyes opened they were guarded,
watchful, tracking his every move. He thought of pressing for an
answer, but he didn’t have the heart. He’d almost gotten a laugh
out of her. Hell, he’d gotten her to say more in those few minutes
than ever before. That was enough for now.

Turning to face his house, he reached for the
door when a booted heel swept under his. He stumbled, lashing out
to catch himself when Steele flipped him and rode him to the
ground. Her hands wrapped in his, she tried to pin them back over
his head, but she didn’t quite have the strength. His arms
trembled, but held. She leaned down into his face.

“No. I don’t. Back off, Hexe.”

Steele lunged off of him, landing on her feet
as she slumped back against his house, her lips pursed as she
glared at him. The ice was back and she was ready to fight. Hexe
rolled to his feet, keeping an eye on her to make sure she didn’t
snap his neck on the way up, and then he reached past her to the
door. There was no need to lock it this far out in the middle of
the mountains. No one but another cat could make it here and no one
would dare pilfer from their King.

“Fine. Make yourself at home.”

He gestured her inside, watching as her gaze
made a fast skim over the small living room—with its collection of
bare furnishings. There was nothing here that he hadn’t carved from
the trees outside or been able to haul up the peaks himself. Her
brows furrowed as she took it in. A picture of his parents sat on a
small end table, a tiny radio was perched behind the frame. A few
paintings decorated the walls, making them softer.

Homier.

Hexe shut the door behind him and leaned back
against it, waiting for the verdict. He had no idea where she
lived, but for some reason, he didn’t think it looked anything like
this. Her hands curled into fists at her side and she twisted,
taking in the adjoined kitchen. The small wood stove and open
countertops. He had an icebox in the cellar, but he didn’t really
cook or keep food here for long. He preferred to hunt. It kept him
fit and made provisions easy.

There was even an outhouse out back. Her gaze
flitted to the door on the other side of the living room. The
single wide house was small, but there was no mistaking it as
anything but a home.

“What?” Steele said over her shoulder, not
willing to look at him.

Hexe eased off the door and strode towards
her, slow and deliberate. Her shoulders drew back, tense, but she
didn’t move. That would be running and she couldn’t run to save her
life. One hand found her hip as he stepped up behind her, loving
the soft caress of her hair as he leaned forward to brush a kiss
against her neck.

She shivered against the invasion and he half
expected her to lash out. Hexe drew up short. He would only push
her so far, see if she could let him in, but he couldn’t force
her.

One glance at her face though as she took in
his house and it hurt.

“You look so...lost.”

She snorted. “You have a lot of weapons lying
around.”

Steele tilted her head towards the fireplace
along the back wall of the living room, and the metal pokers
sitting beside it. “Bet you the kitchen has a few knives too.”

Her pulse beat like a snowshoe hare’s,
desperate. Terrified, and Hexe knew it wasn’t a physical fear. One
on one, she could take him, even unarmed.
You never stop, do
you?
No, he didn’t. And that scared her the most.

Why? Because she might actually care about
someone else then?

Her gaze flicked back to the picture of his
parents, their warm smiles filling the room. He loved looking at
it, reminding himself of their happiness before the crash that had
killed them. The one that had sent him stumbling out into the snow.
The one that had gotten him attacked and made him a member of this
tribe.

The one that had brought him close to her.
Hexe took a step back, fingers finding his parka’s zipper as he
tugged it down and he shrugged out of his coat. She turned to watch
him, suddenly wary, but he plucked her knife out of the small
sheath he’d hidden it in. He extended it to her hilt first.

“If it’ll make you feel better.”

Steele hesitated, her hand halfway lifted for
the dagger as she watched him. She looked like the fox waiting for
the trap. Hexe shrugged. “Take it.”

He leaned forward and pressed it into her
palm. “Just think, if you stab me in the back you can have the bed
to yourself.”

Without a second glance, he walked past her
and headed for the kitchen. “Until you get to that, do you want
some hot chocolate?”

For the first time, he saw a hint of a real
smile cross her face. She looked surprised. He waited, one hand on
the cupboard, until finally she nodded. “Yes.”

Chapter
Three

The Himalayan wind beat the tent flaps, an
ever present sound from this hellhole. It howled as it ran through
the mountains, rattling amongst the trees. Jackson Woodrow huddled
deeper into his parka, his legs stuffed inside his sleeping bag,
his map spread out over his lap. The dim light of his lantern cast
the walls of the tent in shadows, illuminating only a small circle
of the tent. It was just enough light to let him formalize his
plans before he set out tomorrow morning.

He’d marked several areas of possible hope
for a successful hunt. The four red circles he’d traced represented
the most commonly overlapping snow leopard sightings. He’d spent
the last few weeks questioning the natives and trying to track down
his best chance for success. Of course, they were talking the real
cats. He was looking for something much rarer.

Jacks frowned, tapping his finger against the
paper. He’d studied everything he could think of. Prey migration
routes, sightings of actual snow leopards, legends, and in the end,
he found himself drawn to the blue ‘X’ he’d written on the map.

“It’d probably be smart to start there,” he
mumbled to himself.

Instinctively he reached for the leather cord
next to the map, and the white canine tooth tied at the end. He
held it up, picturing the black and white spotted cat he’d killed
to get it. Oh, he hadn’t killed her for the tooth, but the catch of
a lifetime had demanded a souvenir. Running his finger along the
curved edge, Jacks stared at the map.

There’d been two cats that day. He managed to
shoot one, but the mate had gotten away.

Snow leopard males were a bit more transient
than females, controlling territories that overlapped several
females. While he wasn’t hunting traditional cats, studying other
shape-shifter groups in the United States had proved that most
tended to share characteristics of their animal halves. Werewolves
liked packs, lion-shifters lived in prides. It stood to reason that
perhaps, snow leopard-shifters might group similarly to their cat
brethren. They’d no doubt have differences than their animal
halves, but it stood to reason that they most likely held
territories in the mountains. It’d make sense.

Going back to the place of his last kill gave
him a thrill. His thumb rubbed back and forth across the tooth as
he stared down at the bright blue ‘X’. He could remember the
gunfire, the blood, the warmth in that fur as he’d held it in his
hands. A surge of adrenaline jolted through him.

Tomorrow he’d be back on the hunt again and
he wasn’t leaving until he’d killed another.

***

Steele watched as Hexe fiddled at the stove,
filling a cast iron pot before placing it on the burners to let it
heat. The rich cocoa scent touched her nose before she saw the
small pouch he dragged out of the cupboard. It was all so mundane.
Normal. Where the hell had he found this stuff in the mountains?
He’d apparently been to town more than she’d thought.

Steele huddled into her coat. She wasn’t
cold. Hell, she was damn near roasting. Hexe somehow kept his home
warm, but she didn’t see the fireplace burning. Maybe it was the
body heat. Her coat rustled as she shifted her weight, uneasy.
Everything about this place made her edgy. No one had places like
this up in the mountains.

Hexe twisted to look at her, one eyebrow
lifting. “You cold?”

Steele froze. Damn. If she shook her head,
he’d take her coat. If she said yes, he’d probably start the damn
fire and make her sweat. Steele lifted her chin up a notch. “I’m
fine.”

His gaze drifted down to her coat, a soft
smile toying at the edge of his lips and she shifted uncomfortably
under the weight of that look. She was fine. Perfectly, utterly
fine. Then again, she’d be better if he’d let her go home. Steele
turned back to the living room; the old furniture looked cozy,
comfortable.

They damn near beckoned her over.

But it was the picture staring out at her
that made her squeamish. Two laughing, smiling faces that looked so
much like the man behind her. They’d been happy. That much was
obvious. In love. It was written all over their faces. Love was an
emotion she wasn’t even sure she believed in, not anymore. But it
was there, shining out of their eyes. Written all over their
smiles. That photograph would haunt her.

“My parents,” he said, his voice soft behind
her. Soothing.

Steele didn’t want to be coaxed like a wild
dog into his lap. “I figured that. They look like you, just
happier.”

She turned to see his reaction to that, but
his gaze still lingered on the picture, his smile gone. She knew
enough about loss to recognize the grief in his eyes. He’d loved
them, probably as much as she’d loved her mother. Steele fisted her
hands in her pockets, holding back the sudden burst of
sympathy.