Feral Craving (14 page)

Us?

"A problem?"

“Move, Bari.”

His jaw clenched tighter. "Not that
you'll fucking take it, Angel. But if you need help with your … ‘problem’, you
know where to find me."

Mackenzie let out a sharp, bitter laugh
and spoke, her words uncensored.

“You help, huh? Perhaps then, you’ll stop
running away from me, stop dodging me, and instead itch this scratch I have for
you. Perhaps you’ll send that letter I looked for nine goddamn years ago. But
no, you’re too much of a chicken shit, for even a little woman of my size. It
seems as though every time I open my mouth to even talk to you, you run the
other way.”

This time, she gave a very loud
unladylike snort, turned, and took a step.

Bari’s control snapped, the thread almost
visible at the mental image her words provided. In two steps, he was on her.

“Yep … that did it, Angel.” One hand
grabbed her shoulder and spun. He had the brief satisfaction of seeing her eyes
widen before he pulled her into a vacant room.

The door clicked shut behind him, and he
swooped in, dipped his head, his mouth hovering in invitation. Bari’s body
crowded Mackenzie’s, his control off the charts. He pressed the length of his
body against her. Pleasure unbound ran through him. When he spoke, his voice
came out low, harsh, husky.

"It’s scratch this itch, Mac.
Scratch this itch, not itch this scratch.” His breath fanned across her lips.
“You have no clue how much I want you, Angel. No idea of just how I'll do my
job or exactly where I want to see your mouth." Warning bells clanged in
his head as he continued on.

Shut up. Shut
up, bro.

"Mackenzie..." His voice
rumbled, his lips whispering across her cheek. He had already suffered blows to
his pride, his ego, his damn control around her.

"Like I said, you need help. You let
me know. I'm not the heartless bastard you think I am."

Setting one arm against the wall behind
her head, he leaned down. He saw her eyes as if it were daylight, the change
enhancing his vision, light coming in from beneath the closed door.

“You also have no idea how badly, how
very much I crave to be able to scratch any itch you may have.”

Bari reached down and wrapped his hands
around her wrists, pinning her to the wall behind. "You’ve pulled me to
you, Mac. Like a magnet, you have this pull on me that gives me no choice. I
get it, accept it, and want it. Want you.” His eyes locked on her lips. “Your
sweet, smart mouth. So the next time you put your hands on me, the next time
you feed me images from your head, understand, next time, I won't be so nice."

With the warning, Bari pushed off of her;
forcing his body to turn and open the door, he walked toward the elevator. The
door opened behind him, but he refused to look back. He stepped inside of the
elevator, his back facing to the halls, to the one person he could no longer
deny.

Coward.

 
Yes, yes he was.

****

There were questions Bethany had.
Questions about Byron and questions Mackenzie didn’t seem to have answers to.
She didn’t understand what was going on, couldn’t figure out why Byron had suddenly
gotten sick and then, as if a switch flipped, he was fine. Bethany pulled
Mackenzie aside and inquired if this had anything to do with Bari and his
ability to heal so fast, but she couldn’t answer.

Checking Byron out of the hospital didn’t
take long. Byron enjoyed being wheeled out of the building, the attendant
insisting on it and giving Byron a bit of a thrill ride in secret. As Mackenzie
reached her car in the garage, her steps faltered: there was a single red rose
on her windshield. At first glance she thought it had been yet another rose
from Bari but froze as she saw the silver star sitting wrapped with a chain
around it. Adrenaline pulsed through her body, her gaze snapping up and
searching the garage.
He
had always
left her silver stars with each of his “gifts.”

“Oh please God, no.”

He found her again, she knew it. It sent
her blood cold, and she hurried to get in the car. Mackenzie pulled up to the
front of the hospital moments later, her face an emotionless mask for Byron.

As they drove home, she worried her lip,
listening to Byron who, for the most part, was back to normal. She was torn
between their safety and the one person she felt comfortable going to. Bari had
always protected and looked out for her. Now, when she feared for her safety, it
was only natural that she should go to him again.

Right?

Mackenzie sighed and gripped the steering
wheel, wondering what in the hell she was supposed to do. There was no doubt in
her mind
he
was here and that they
were going to have to run again. Her heart lurched with uncertainty, her mind
focused on Bari. Almost immediately she felt his presence. It should have
freaked her out, but instead, she felt calm play over her skin. Worry still
centered in her mind for their safety, but the security that had always been
Bari was almost immediate.

“What do you want, Bari? Please, tell me.
Please help me.”

Chapter
Seventeen

Bari heard her voice in his head, echoing
in his skull, and reached up to grab it. “Fuckin-a, Angel.” Christ, what did he
want? She didn’t already know?

He stood from the bed and shut the TV
off, moving to the window. Lifting a hand, he set it on the glass pane and felt
the cool air from the dark night outside trying to creep through the thin
barrier that separated their worlds. Creatures scurried in the dark shadows,
some without fear and others creating it. He understood them all, had an
understanding now of all that went “bump” in the night. The trees shook
slightly in the wind and besides the whisper of wind, no other sounds decorated
the night.

Mackenzie wanted to know what he wanted
and by gods he thought he made himself more than clear the last time he saw
her. Why didn’t she see it? Yet at the same time, there was no other place that
scared him more than being in her arms.

Nothing made sense anymore.

What the fuck
was he doing here?

They called him in, had taken him from
where he commanded things, where he led the way, where he saved lives and took
them. They thrust him into this world, everything he ever understood and
believed in gone. Nantucket shouldn’t seem like a strange world to him, hell,
it was where he grew up. But it was, somehow, someway everything seemed so
different, and he felt like a newcomer in the world. In a way, maybe he was. It
made what he knew seem like a shadowed lie.

He got that he hurt her all those years
ago, that he should have explained things to her before he left. A child was
involved now, a child that was his, a child that could be the very same kind of
demon as he was. How in the hell was he supposed to explain this to her, to the
child?

He was supposed to be protecting her. How
did he protect her when he couldn’t even be in the same room without wanting to
rip her clothing off, bury himself between her thighs? He tried to act as
if he didn’t give a shit what she did, but the problem was, by all that
existed, he really did.

Setting his knuckles against the window,
he pushed back and turned away. He needed his space, needed to get his head on
straight. He grabbed his jacket on the way to the door and walked out, needing
answers.

Sometime later Bari glanced up and wasn’t
surprised as he stood outside Mackenzie’s. He had been walking, for hours,
thinking on everything, the changes, old hidden feelings locked away, now
reappearing. How did he get her to understand? How would he ever be able to
walk away from her again when the first time practically killed him?

He studied her little house. A simple
peach colored rancher spread out across a nice manicured yard, bright flowers
and thick, green trees lining the property. Her shades were drawn, and shadows
moved behind them.

He had a son. That had been a bigger
shock to his system than anything else. Another craving, a deeper, protective
one started to surface at the thought of Byron. The front door opened, and a
little boy appeared. Bari’s breath hitched.

Byron stepped from the house with a white
bag of trash in his grip. At eight years old, the kid was tall for his age, his
long legs eating up the distance down the walk. Bari followed Byron, unable to
tear his eyes from him, his heart pounding as if a horse were running the
Kentucky Derby in his chest. With his enhanced sight, even in the darkness Bari
saw Byron’s dark, black hair, curly like his mother’s. Tight ringlets fell,
brushing his shoulders. Did his son hold anything of his? Was the demon inside
him too?

Byron dropped the bag at the curb and
paused as he turned back to the house. He raised his head and snapped it in the
direction Bari stood. Just outside of the streetlight’s illumination, Bari knew
he had been spotted. He took a step forward, moving his body beneath the light
and stood in silence—watching, waiting, wondering.

Byron turned, his eyes studying Bari as
if he were trying to place him. The little boy’s eyes narrowed then widened in
response. Byron’s eyes shifted from Bari to the open front door quickly before
returning to him.

“You’re him.”

Bari’s eyes closed briefly at his son’s
sweet voice. Could one fall in love so swiftly? Was this what parents felt as
they held their newborn for the first time? The feelings Bari had for this
little boy hit him with such strength that the blow felt like an atomic bomb.
He didn’t know what to say, what to do. Instead, Bari shoved his hands into his
pockets and nodded, wondering how to explain any of this, who he was, to the
most important person in his life.

****

Mackenzie glanced up from the dishes and
frowned at the clock. Byron had been outside for several minutes. She turned
off the water, wiped her hands, and turned to the front of the house. Just as suspected,
the front door was open. A quick dose of fear entered her system as she thought
to a few days ago, the man who had been talking to Byron on the street. She
rushed outside to the front porch and froze as she saw them.

In the front of the house, Byron’s
laughter carried through the quiet night. He stood next to a man, a tall one,
one whose form she’d recognize anywhere. Fear turned to confusion, dread, and a
rush of happiness. Conflicted, her breath caught at the sight of them. Byron
smiled up at Bari, and in return Bari grinned. The smiles Bari gave were
treasures, gifts so rare. The vision of him smiling made her heart skip. He
would hate being described as beautiful, but that was the only one she could
give him. Even then, the simple word didn’t do Bari justice.

As if he sensed her, his head lifted. The
smile on his face faltered and disappeared, replaced by a quick frown before
all emotion wiped from his face.

Well there
you go, Mac. Nice on the ego when a man looks at you and frowns, huh?

She met his frown and sighed. When would
she get the hint? Bari apparently didn’t want her. He confused her, his
actions, words, all of them making her head spin.

Byron turned toward her a moment later,
following Bari’s gaze, and she heard him curse. She lifted a brow as Bari’s
head snapped toward her son.

“Byron David Walters, I know I just did
not
hear that word come from your
mouth.” From the porch she saw Byron cringe before his head dropped between his
shoulders. Bari let out a deep chuckle and set his hand on Byron’s shoulder.
The look Byron gave Bari caused Mackenzie’s breath to hitch. Wonder, need, and
devotion—it was written all over his face. Had she really believed she could do
this alone? Mackenzie’s heart sank as defeat made its presence felt, and she
let out a soft sigh. The sigh must have carried because Bari lifted his head
and looked at her again, that same frown returning, his eyes narrowing. His
hand on Byron’s shoulder gave her son a little push before they both started up
the walkway together.

Mackenzie squared her shoulders and
watched as they both stopped in front of her. She couldn’t take her gaze from
Bari, and her heart squeezed as he met her gaze. “Byron, go wash up and get
ready for bed.”

“But Mom…”

“I said, go. We’ll talk about that word
you used later.”

As Byron trudged off, Bari’s eyes flicked
to Byron for one second before his lips quirked. His blue gaze turned back to
hers, and the smile she loved disappeared from his face.

She fought the urge to punch him to see
if she’d get a response.

Bari blinked, raised a brow, and as if he
read her mind, took a step toward her. “Mackenzie, I think we need to talk.”

Oh boy.

 
“Yeah, I think so too.”
Don’t invite him in. Don’t invite him in,
Mackenzie.

“Come inside, Bari. I need to get Byron
ready for bed, and then we’ll talk.”
Smart
move, Sherlock!