Cougar's Gift: Pacific Northwest Cougars: (Shifter Romance) (12 page)

A
t those words Stryker froze
. He’d never met a human that could read a shifter like that. Even the idea of sharing a body with two souls was totally foreign to most people. Trying to understand how someone would feel empty without two souls was also hard to explain.

Primrose was laying crystals along his thighs and plopping ones into his hands that she’d turned palms up for him. She grabbed another large crystal and held it to his forehead then started to hum.

“Oh for fuck sake,” Libby moaned flopping into a chair.

“Liberty Moonlight, watch your mouth,” her mother barked in between ommms.

Her father, having lit the candles, was now smudging the room with sage. This was getting out of hand.

“Libby, come hold this crystal so I can cleanse his aura,” her mother ordered.

“Nope, not gonna happen,” Libby said, crossing her arms over her chest. She threw in a lower lip pout just for good measure. Stryker who had been looking amused was now looking rather concerned and uncomfortable.

“Told you, but no, you wouldn’t listen.” Libby gave him the ‘I told you so look’.

“Shh, I’m focusing,” her mother intoned.

She took her one free hand and started making plucking motions around Stryker like she was picking off invisible lint. She kept at it for a few minutes while Libby’s dad stunk up the room with burning sage.

Finally her mother dropped her arms as if she was exhausted. “I don’t understand. Your aura refuses to be cleansed. It’s like it wants to be in two parts. Straight down the middle, I’ve never seen anything like it,” she said, muttering to herself. “I’ll have to consult my books.”

She picked up the crystals and put them in the bag Freedom had brought them in. Still muttering she turned to Stryker who was sitting oddly still. “I’m sorry, we’ll have to try something else. You are very confusing.”

She continued to tsk as Freedom came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Center yourself, Primrose.” He started taking deep breaths while she matched him. Apparently they found their center or calm or whatever because her mother whose eyes had been closed popped open.

“Time for dinner!” she exclaimed clapping her hands. “I made panko crusted beet patties with a mango vinaigrette. The original recipe was for coconut crust, but well I just couldn’t,” she said mysteriously.

“I hope you’re hungry,” she said like she was offering up a nice medium cooked steak.

Stryker was watching Libby now his eyes oddly bright. “Well, Stryker,” she said smirking at him. “Hungry?”

“Always, mouse,” he returned. Libby didn’t think he was talking about beets.

That made her tummy and other parts get all tingly. At some point her heart had made a choice for her. Her brain was still cataloging all the reasons why she needed to rationalize her choices. Her heart kept getting louder.

It was telling her that even if she didn’t spend the rest of her life with Stryker she’d never regret him being the first. She’d be able to look back and know she made a choice based on her heart. And that was okay.

Now she just had to figure out how to convey that to Stryker. She didn’t think it would take much, but she also knew he treated her with kid gloves for a reason.

That just endeared him to her even more. And she could honestly say no man had ever turned her on like he had. Outside of her book boyfriends.

Libby looked at Stryker and she could swear he was reading her mind again. His eyes were even brighter and his nose was flaring as he took in deep breaths. This was going to be a long dinner.

After what felt like an hours-long meal, which turned out to be only about an hour. Libby had a new understanding of just how strange her family was. Especially to an outsider like Stryker.

Her mom asked him about his family and whether he’d had any traumatic experiences as a child. Had he ever been the victim of a haunting. Anything to explain his apparent messed up aura.

Libby kept her head in her beet patties most of the time. There was no way to stop her mom when she was on a roll. So she chose the next best option of eat fast and hopefully get Stryker to leave.

Stryker was his usual non-verbal self that he was to strangers. It didn’t deter her parents in any way. They just kept talking at him. He even ate her mother’s weird beet patty things. He was probably starving.

“Mom, we need to let Stryker get home. I’m sure he has work tomorrow,” Libby said, hoping her mom and dad would take the hint.

“Oh, we’re sorry to keep you, Stryker. Sorry you have to work on a Saturday,” her father said.

“I’ll have to reach out to some of my contacts to figure out your problem,” her mother added.

“Do you think it’s a problem?” Stryker asked her seriously.

Her mother immediately responded. “Of course, no one can live with a soul that is going in two different directions. How confusing!”

Stryker grunted at her then gave her a nod. He wasn’t about to explain to her why her fix was never going to work. He was all about appeasing her parents, getting in good, so to speak.

“I should probably get home. Work tomorrow,” Stryker finally agreed.

Everyone stood from the table. Her mother started fluttering her hands. “Oh dear, I forgot dessert! Here, I made triple ginger molasses cookies. I’ll just wrap some up for you to go.”

Libby leaned over. “Those actually aren’t bad,” she admitted.

“There aren’t beets in them are there?” Stryker asked.

This made Libby giggle.

Her mother shoved a cloth wrapped bundle of cookies at Stryker which he graciously accepted.

“Mr. and Mrs. Berkowitz, it was very nice to meet you.” He offered his hand to them.

They both shook his hand. Her father pumped it vigorously apparently deciding he wasn’t a serial killer. Her mother tsked the moment she touched him, but still smiled and said goodnight.

Walking to the door, Stryker stepped out into the night air and cleared his nose of the sage and candle aroma that had coated his lungs.

They were alone outside, her folks at least being smart enough to leave them alone to say goodbye.

“I’m not working tomorrow,” he said.

“You’re not? Why did you say you were?” she asked.

“So we could have some time together. Can you meet me?” he asked, pulling her tight against his chest. He could feel her heart pounding against his. It calmed his cat.

“Sure, I’m usually out and about on Saturdays,” she said. A day with Stryker, it was almost too easy.

“Meet me at the library at nine, yeah? And wear pants,” he amended.

“Pants?” she said curiously.

“Yes, I don’t want those skirts getting stuck in the wheels of my bike,” he explained.

Libby nodded and stared up at him. Stryker ran his hands down her cheeks. Rubbing over the apple and feeling the blush even before he saw it.

“I’ll miss you tonight, mouse,” he said softly.

“Me too,” she said. She really wanted a kiss. She was sure he wouldn’t leave without giving her one. But she was impatient.

“Dream about me, mouse.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order. She was without a doubt going to think about him all night. She had plans to make and courage to garner.

“Are you going to dream about me?” she asked.

“No, I’ll probably think of you while I jack off though,” he said.

Libby knew she should have been shocked by that, but she was instead turned on. The wetness between her legs was a clear sign that her body knew how much she wanted Stryker.

“Thank you? I think?” she gave him a little laugh.

“I better go. Meet me tomorrow,” he said low, then finally, finally, kissed her. It left her weak-kneed and whimpering.

“Go back inside, mouse,” he said roughly, pointing her towards the house and giving her a little shove.

Libby didn’t want to go, but she knew her parents were probably peeking through the windows even now. She turned away from him reluctantly and moved along the stepping stone path her mother had made between the garden beds.

She shot one last look at him before walking back into the house. The roar of his motorcycle was her lullaby for the night.

L
ibby barely slept
, but she was confident in her decision to make Stryker the one for her. At least in the short term.

She wasn’t thinking that there would be an angel chorus singing in the background her first time. But she was certain that her body would sing a happy tune getting to spend any time in bed with Stryker.

Waking up at the crack of dawn she had some time to kill. Putting into action ‘Libby gettin’ some’ meant she needed to be prepared for any possibility.

So she took a long shower and made sure to shave those hard to reach places. She could admit that there would be long stretches of below the knee only shaving in the colder months. She also gave herself a quick mani/pedi to make her feel polished, so to speak.

Lastly, she made sure there were condoms in her purse and that they weren’t expired. Lucky for her they had a few more months on them.

She’d gotten them from the health department last time they had a blood donation event. She figured… save a life donate blood. Save her own by not getting some disease.

Libby tried to act normal as she went down to breakfast. Her mom and dad were sitting around the table, their slow Saturday morning routine.

It involved a rundown of their week’s activities. Her father’s work minus the patient info. Her mother talking about plants, some new canning method, or her secret addiction to reality TV. She’d caught her mom watching it on her laptop once and didn’t tell her she knew.

After Libby hit high school they had let up a little on the TV restriction. By then, Libby wasn’t interested so they never actually got one. Being able to watch just about anything over the internet made her rare splurges into the world of do-it-yourself shows possible.

“Morning,” she called out, grabbing the container of granola and some coconut milk out of the fridge. This was another one of those meals that she actually liked. Mostly because it tasted like a giant bowl of sugar.

“Morning, Liberty,” her father called out. He didn’t look up from the botany book he was looking through. Probably looking for some unknown cure for gout that nobody had discovered.

“Sleep well, sweetie?” her mother asked, looking away from her father who she’d been staring at.

Libby always liked that. Her parents weren’t the outwardly mushy types. They usually spent their time apart. But they both liked each other.

They had this almost fascination with each other. She’d catch them staring at the other sometimes. They’d have funny looks on their faces that she couldn’t decipher. She chalked it up to their slightly insane, but still caring attitudes.

“Yeah, not too bad.” She poured her bowl of cereal.

“Your friend, he needs some serious work done. Do you think he’d come over and let me work on his chakras? I think if we can get those realigned we might be able to sort out his aura. Butterfly suggested if that didn’t work maybe we should try some purgatives. Let him barf up whatever is ailing him.”

Butterfly was one of her mother’s friends. She was always bringing over pieces of bark or a rock that “spoke” to her. She would tell Libby it had special qualities and to keep it close.

Libby always accepted these items with a smile, then added them to her fairies garden she’d built as a child. She didn’t believe in the magic rock, but she knew Butterfly was giving her a gift that she thought had value. That was good enough reason to be gracious.

“You are not giving him anything to make him puke or poop himself unconscious. I still remember what you did to me,” Libby grumbled.

“Honey, that was just a mild elixir to get rid of your dandruff. It went away didn’t it?” her mother chided.

“And I lost half a head of hair mom. I had to wear a hat for a year,” she screeched.

“Don’t exaggerate, it was one tiny bald spot. I’m not even sure the two were connected,” her mother sniffed.

“I really don’t think Stryker needs you meddling in his affairs, mother,” she said, spooning more cereal in her mouth so she didn’t scream.

“Oh what, is he a dragon? That is the only creature’s affairs I don’t meddle in,” her mother smarted.

“That’s because you are crunchy and good with ketchup,” her father intoned solemnly from the end of the table.

It was a long-standing family joke. Her mother went through a big dragon phase when Libby was younger. They were everywhere. Figurines, paintings, and a sign that said the part about ketchup.

Her mother thought it was a hoot. Luckily, dragons didn’t last long, she’d moved on to making her own wool yarn after that. It was a very scratchy year for Libby.

“I’m going to go out, maybe catch the bus into town to check out the used bookstore,” Libby threw out. This was not an uncommon thing for her to do. A forty-minute bus ride and she was in a city big enough to have a shopping mall. Every fast food joint you could think of and lots of bookstores.

She would spend her days wandering through her favorite ones then she’d find the most horrendous fast food joint offering the craziest limited time only creation and stuff herself silly.

“Sorry, Stryker had to work today dear,” her mother said. She actually sounded like she meant it.

“I didn’t think you liked him,” Libby said to her mother, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“I didn’t know him, now I’ve met him. Although I’m not thrilled by his age. He seems very mature and he has a very old soul. Old souls are always trustworthy,” her mother intoned.

And that’s how it was with her parents, terrified of the new until they could put it in a safe little box. After that they moved on to something else.

“Nice young man,” her father replied still not looking up from his book. If her mother was on board her father followed quickly.

He didn’t like conflict, like ever. So if he could appease his wife and/or daughter he would agree with whatever they wanted. Her father wasn’t a wimp, so to speak, he was just a pacifist in every sense of the word.

Apparently all her worries about them not liking Stryker, or more importantly not liking him for her, were washed away. She was trying to think if he said something magical to them last night or hypnotized them into falling for his charms. But he was quiet most of the night. He listened, occasionally nodded, rarely spoke.

At no time did he appear disinterested or bored. He was actively in the conversation without actually talking. It was like some gift that he had to lull people into his world. Her parents had talked his ear off and Stryker had let them.

The way he was with her mom and dad and the way he was with her were night and day. She had to wonder how he was with others.

Her first encounter with him was a lot like how he was with Primrose and Freedom. But it had taken him minutes to warm up to her. That hadn’t happened last night. His stoicism never wavered. He only spoke when necessary and then it was usually one or two words.

Libby liked to think that maybe, just maybe, she was someone he could be real with. That he felt comfortable with her enough to tell her anything. She liked the idea of being that with him.

If they managed to stick it out for any length of time they could be each other’s sounding boards. Nothing hidden, nothing falsified, just the real them. That thought made her smile into her bowl of granola.

Finishing up, she took her bowl to the sink, kissed both of her parents goodbye and headed out the door.