First Beast (3 page)

She inhaled deeply. “I'm home,” she said, popping the takeaway meal she'd bought on a space on the table cluttered with items from his workbag. “I've brought dinner.”

He continued to bang away on whatever he was working on, and she shrugged out of her jacket, not entirely surprised by his silence. Whenever they had a disagreement, he tended to take a while to come around again, and if they hadn't made up before night fell, she knew he would spend the night out on the moor.

She busied herself getting out trays, plates and cutlery and did what she always did when he gave her the silent treatment. She kept on talking as if nothing was wrong. “I saw Mr. Wilken today. He said there were plans for a new market by the old stream in Lindale. Of course, everyone is up in arms about it, so he asked me to write an article in support of the protest being arranged.”

Joshua slid out from beneath the sink, his red shirt filthy with dust and grime. His dark hair was unkempt and his face dirtied by whatever was on his shirt. He hoisted himself up on his elbows, the muscles of his arms flexing. “Hand me that wrench.” He nodded to the table. “I need to get this fixed if you want water tonight.”

Her temper hiked a little at his sharp manner and the fact he'd completely chosen to ignore what she'd just told him. “Go ahead,” she said with equal snap in her tone. She thrust the wrench into his outstretched hand. “But if you want your dinner hot, you'd best leave that for now and come eat.”

When he slid back under the sink, Talia indulged in some banging of her own. She plonked down plates on a tray, slammed down cutlery. She hated that he made her feel like this. Before he'd come into her life, she'd always thought of herself as an appeaser, but there was no way she was about to let him bully her. From the start, it had been apparent he expected his own way, but she could never forget the tenderness he had shown her in his panther form all those years ago.

Since their marriage, he had changed. She often wondered if it was due to the trouble the Council of Principals had given him over his insistence to marry her. Up until their marriage, the pack's members were expected to take a mate within the shifter community. But Joshua had been adamant that things needed changing. They were living in a modern world, coexisting with the rest of society, and their community needed to embrace new ways.

The fact that Joshua had won, albeit with some cost to his already turbulent leadership, had made him edgier, less easygoing. She and Joshua argued, something they hadn't really done before, and each argument centered around her not giving him the time he thought he deserved as her husband.

His antipathy toward her socializing with colleagues was in direct contrast to pack policy to integrate with non-shifter members of the local community. If they were to remain undetected, such assimilation was a necessary evil. Relying solely on their own kind for social interaction might raise questions that could ultimately put their pack at risk.

But she suspected that the change in Joshua had more to do with her refusal to be marked by him. In doing so, she had offended his sense of male pride. His bite, the ultimate symbol of their joining, was permanent and she would carry it forever. Talia couldn't say what lay at the root of her refusal, only that the thought of being bitten, scarred—both on the neck and more intimately—was not something she especially relished. She had tried to explain her revulsion to her husband in a gentle and hopefully reasonable manner, but it only seemed to incense him further and he accused her of dishonoring their ways. Something he knew hurt her deeply.

Joshua slid out from beneath the sink, interrupting her musings. He put down the wrench and hoisted himself up. When he turned on the tap, a burst of water splashed out and he watched the steady stream for a few moments before reaching for the soap.

“All fixed?” Talia asked, mustering a cheerful expression. She didn't want to fight. Her own fuse withered much faster than Joshua's and she had accepted that she would assume the role of peacemaker in their relationship.

“Yeah, I just need to bleed the rest of the pumps.” He finished washing his hands, then turned from the sink to face her. “Where have you been?”

She nudged the bag on the table. “I got dinner.”

He looked up at the kitchen clock. “That took you two hours?”

She shrugged, steeling herself for yet another argument but determined to hold her own. “I went for a drink with Debbie.”

“For two hours.”

She turned away and busied herself dumping the ready meals onto their plates. “Don't start on me again. I'm not in the mood.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him wiping his hands on a towel. She could positively feel the air hum with tension and braced herself for Joshua's rebuke.

“So, tell me about this protest,” he said eventually. “What does that old fart Wilken have to say about it?”

Talia heaved an inward sigh. Crisis averted. While she hadn't expected Joshua to be the one holding out the olive branch, she wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Apparently, people are coming from as far away as Plymouth.” She began tidying up tools, pushing them back in their appropriate slots in his work bag to ready the table for their meal. “The area they're threatening is an area of outstanding natural beauty, but Mr. Wilken thinks that money's changed hands and the powers that be are conveniently altering the boundary, so the area is just outside the protected one.”

Josh leaned down and sniffed appreciatively at the meal Talia had dished on his plate. “I'll need to check it doesn't encroach on our land.”

“I don't think it does. I did a quick check. It's too far to the left.”

“Nevertheless.” He straightened, then pushed a hand through his hair. “I'll just go get washed up.”

She smiled at him, taking in the disheveled look that never failed to set her hormones racing. “Good idea.”

The familiar gleam came into his eyes. “You like me dirty.”

“On occasions.” Her smile turned to a grin. “This isn't one of them. I'm hungry.”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she knew she'd issued a challenge. He dropped the towel onto a chair and pulled her into his arms. She shrieked as dust and grime plastered her work suit. “Josh!”

His arms banded around her and his mouth came down on hers, hot and demanding. Her legs went weak, her pussy tingled with anticipation, giving her no option but to return his fevered kiss. Until she realized her best suit would need a trip to the dry cleaners. Pushing her hands against his chest, she broke the kiss. “You're filthy.”

“Believe it, baby.” He bit her ear. “Why don't we find out just how filthy?”

She tried for her best assertive tone. “Supper will get cold.”

“We'll heat it up again.”

Quite possibly just by their proximity to it, Talia thought dizzily. She wondered flames didn't bounce off her body as Josh used his very talented hands to stroke her flesh to scream-inducing levels.

His fingers nudged the hem of her skirt, pushing it up past her thighs and toward her hips. As Talia gasped, he grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her onto the table. The tool bag thumped to the floor, along with one of the trays. Talia had a brief moment imagining the mess the food had made until Joshua's hands gripped the sides of her panties. He looked down, groaned appreciatively at the patch of lace covering her pussy. Since knowing Joshua, she'd taken to wearing thongs. He loved them, and more importantly, loved taking them off.

She leaned back on her hands and levered her hips so he could yank the thong down. After tossing it to the floor, he spread her legs and dropped to his haunches. His gaze remained on hers, dark and foreboding. It was at passionate moments like this that she glimpsed the beast in him. She'd never seen him shift, had never seen him take panther form—at least not since that night on the moor so long ago. But now, she could imagine it. The piercing eyes, the grace of his movements, the bulk of his strength.

Her body trembled and she dropped her head back, unable to think of anything more than the feel of his mouth pressing against her slit. With exquisite patience, he drew his tongue slowly along her heated folds, then back again. She knew he took care not to touch her clit. He loved to torture her that way.

Shifting her hips, she encouraged him to increase the pressure against her pussy, but again, she knew it was a futile exercise. Joshua wouldn't give her what she wanted, not until he'd driven her to the heights of ecstatic fervor. Not until she begged him.

She thought about that olive branch. Considered that this was maybe a form of payback for him. One way or another, he would exert his power over her.

Not that she cared one iota right then. She wriggled closer, pushing against him. He continued to torture her with long slow licks so light against her heat that she wanted to cry out in frustration.

“Josh,” she grated. “Please…just…”

He looked up at her, eyes hooded, his finger replacing his tongue, sliding oh so slowly against her soaked crease. “What, baby? You want something special?” When she gave a frustrated squeal, he grinned. “Why don't you tell me what that is?”

“Damn it, you know.” Panting, she glared down at him. “You started this. Why don't you just damn well get on with it?”

He almost smirked, his full lush lips gleaming with her juices. Grabbing her ankles, he placed them on his shoulders. “My impatient little wife. Always so desperate. For my tongue.” He slid his tongue along her burning crease. “For my mouth.” He closed his lips over her pussy, kissed her hard. “For my cock.” He stood before she could track the movement and shoved himself hard into her.

She gasped, unprepared for his girth, and let her head fall back. Motionless, he held himself inside her. When she opened her eyes he withdrew slowly, that devilish gleam still evident. She thought he intended to pull out completely, but his tip touched her entrance and he drove forward again.

The pace he set was relentless. Hard, strong and rhythmic.

Wanting the contact, Talia arched against him. Her orgasm neared, and she knew Josh was close because of the tremor that moved through him. She kept her eyes open and fixed on his, hoping they would climax together. She also hoped that if and when they did, she would feel that connection she'd been searching for. The one that seemed to elude her.

The hot spurt cut into her thoughts and she let herself spin with him. Spiraling up to the sky and then freefalling through the clouds as they came floating back down to earth.

The heady push of guilt spun through her. How could she love it when he came inside her and yet harbor such a secret? If he knew she was taking birth control pills…well, she didn't know exactly what he'd do. But her reluctance to give him an immediate heir would certainly not help their marriage.

All she knew was that he would never find out.

Chapter Two

Caleb McLeod wiped the dew from his naked flesh with an old shirt he'd pulled from his bag. From his vantage point beside the granite stones overrun with bracken, he could look out across his moor, draw the early morning air into his lungs and count his blessings that he was back.

Hell, it felt good.

His chest expanded as, with his hands on his hips, his gaze moved slowly across the sweeping, gently undulating plateau with its scattering of derelict farmhouses and dramatic granite hills. Heath grass blew softly with the ever-present breeze, while bright yellow gorse dotted itself on the gray earth and brought the wilderness to life with its cheerful hue.

Oh yeah, it was good to be home.

He touched the scar along his right side—a stark reminder of how close he'd come to meeting his maker. But it would take more than fighting rebels or getting kidnapped in some far away country to finish him off.

While his flesh would heal and his mind would learn to shut away the ordeal of his kidnapping, there were some wounds that would remain. He feared that the nightmare of watching innocent women and children die at the hands of those rebels, and not being able to do a fucking thing to stop it, would forever eat at his soul.

Ruthlessly, he pushed the memories away and took another long breath while continuing to peruse his land. This was his place. His home. He'd fight for it. Die for it. For generations of shifters it had provided sanctuary, a place where, despite rumors and legends, his people had continued to live, love and work. They lived in harmony, governed by rules and traditions that had been in operation for hundreds of years and passed to the pack's leaders to enforce. His father had upheld that legacy and had been a popular and respected leader.

Now, with his father's death, the baton would pass to him. He was determined to serve his people well. To carry on those traditions and rules until his time passed and his own son took up the challenge to maintain the wellbeing of their people. He needed to find a mate, preferably within the pack, although he was prepared to spread his search to other packs if necessary.

Before he could catch them, his thoughts strayed back to South America. To the woman who had caught his interest, and warmed his body on cold jungle nights. A dark-haired beauty with silken skin, chocolate eyes, hands that knew their way around a man's body and a sumptuous mouth that knew what to do at each destination.

He soon discovered that beneath her charm lay a merciless vamp. One who had ultimately cost him his liberty. But it had taught him a valuable lesson. Never again would he put his physical needs and desires above his responsibilities to his pack.

Invigorated by his nighttime prowl and the deep-seated need to get reacquainted with his homeland while in his primal form, Caleb went to retrieve his clothing from the clearing where he'd placed it the night before. He pulled on his pants, then his shirt, taking the time to glance around the clearing while he zipped up his jeans.

Other memories flowed back. Long-ago memories that he'd never been able to fully discard. It was the reasoning of a madman to expect that, as an adult, he could find the same connection he'd felt all those years ago. When, as a young shifter, he'd looked into the frightened gaze of a lost girl right here in this clearing and experienced a powerful link with her. Over the years, he'd looked into many a woman's eye, mostly while he'd pumped inside her, but had never found the sense of destiny, of union, that he'd experienced with a human that night.

Shrugging into his jacket, he cursed himself for an idiot. Even if he found that connection with an adult human female, it was unthinkable for a member of the clan to marry outside the community, to mate with a non-shifter. There was no way he, as leader, could ever think of betraying the traditions and practices that had kept his people safe for hundreds of years.

He shook his head as if to clear it, then hoisted his pack and strode off across the moor…and home.

“She's my wife and I'll decide how I'll handle both her and my marriage.”

Joshua stared down the long table toward the twenty-five men who, as head of their particular family group, formed the Council of Principals. The majority of the members continued to proclaim their displeasure at his selection of a mate from outside the shifter community, but that was not his only sin in their eyes. He allowed his unsuitable wife to retain her independence and keep her job.

It wasn't the fact that Talia worked. The majority of the pack's women did. But it was the nature of that work. The Principals considered reporters the lowest of the low, and had long feared that, should the world discover the secret of their existence, it would undoubtedly come about through the interference of the press. Hadn't the sightings of large cats in the area always been pushed out of proportion by the newspapers? It was through the tenacity of reporters that people had flocked to Bodmin Moor in the hope of sighting the beasts themselves.

Joshua knew that the Principals tolerated his leadership by right of birth, although at heart they considered him an outsider. Caleb's late mother had been from the same pack as their father, whereas Joshua's mother, their leader's second wife, was from another pack and considered of lower social status. Caleb was firstborn and of pure blood, whereas Joshua was neither.

Unlike Caleb, he wasn't concerned with tradition, rules and regulations. He wanted to bring the clan into the twenty-first century, but looking into the faces of the Principals now, he realized he had zero prospect of changing things when these old farts tied themselves and their pack to the fucking Middle Ages.

“Your wife is a loose cannon,” Enoch, at eighty years old and the most experienced and revered of the Council, declared with a sneer he didn't even try to hide. “Not only by her profession, but also for the company she keeps. She was seen in a bar last night with one of her colleagues.”

Joshua held back a curse. It wouldn't do to anger these powerful men any more than he already had. He might be the pack's leader, but he knew he needed the Council on his side, or at least open to suggestions, if he were to attempt to change things around here. “My wife works hard at her profession. She is honored for her integrity and thoroughness. She deserves some downtime with a friend.” He heaved a sigh, pushing down his own frustration. “Haven't we already had this conversation?”

“It needs repeating,” Enoch said, leaning forward, his tone one of barely strapped anger. “As our leader, you are due our respect and that of the pack, but we cannot condone the constant pushing of our boundaries.”

“They are not boundaries,” Joshua snapped back. “They are prisons. Keeping all of us entrenched in outdated traditions that no longer serve the good of the community.”

Enoch pushed back his chair and lurched to his feet. “You disrespect this community. You take no steps to ensure its survival. You actively threaten our future by flaunting your contempt for our past.”

“You talk rubbish,” Joshua bit back. “It is our future I am prepared to fight for. By integrating more fully into the community at large, by moving with the times, by allowing new ways of being, these are the paths to survival.”

“Our ways have been protected for hundreds of years. They have proven effective for keeping our community safe. You will control your wife or face the consequences.”

Joshua rose to his full height. “You threaten me?”

Nathan, who at thirty was one of the younger men on the Council, stood and placed a comforting hand on Joshua's shoulder. “No threats are being made. This whole thing is getting a little heated and we all need to calm down and discuss this rationally. What we are saying is that your wife is working closely with the very people who have the ability to seek us out and, in turn, expose our community. The general public might from time to time become curious about rumors of panthers or pumas at loose on the moor, but this interest soon dies down. We wish to keep it that way.”

“And neither I nor my wife wish for anything else.”

Nathan smiled, displaying even white teeth that lit his darkly handsome face. He had been a reluctant supporter of Joshua's leadership after his friend Caleb had been declared missing and eventually presumed dead. “Your wife appears to be a fitting mate for you, Joshua. Embracing of our ways and determined to carry out her duties despite holding onto this job of hers. We merely wish to find a workable solution to everyone's concerns.”

There were several rumbles around the table. Joshua had always known that he was expected to take a mate from within the pack, but once he'd met Talia, his desire to mate with her had been nonnegotiable. He had wanted her, and had set out to get her, conveniently pushing the lie he had told her to the back of his mind.

“I'll talk to her,” Joshua finally conceded. “But I won't ask her to give up her job. We need to move with modern times and I'm determined to be the leader to take us there.”

He stalked from the room and outside into the heat of the day.

Antiquated fuckers. Didn't they realize that things needed to change? That they couldn't continue clinging to old traditions and customs that had long since served their purpose? Times were changing and the shifter community ignored it at their peril.

Yet while he might continually fight with the Principals regarding their outdated ways, especially as they concerned his wife, he couldn't deny that in one important way he was as much a traditionalist as the rest of them.

Talia refused to let him mark her. He'd first thought that, being a human, she needed the security of a wedding ring before she would consent, but since their marriage, she was even more adamant. With every argument, every disagreement, he felt the wall thicken between them. No matter how many times he'd told her it was the ultimate gift a female could give her mate, she had been resolute. No way would she let him mark her.

The dishonor she caused was, thankfully, a private one. He would never suffer the humiliation of another male knowing he had yet to mark his mate. The mark, which never disappeared, could be administered anywhere on a female's body. Although, given the choice, a male usually favored a bite to his female's neck, where it was a visible reminder of his sole possession. But such visibility could garner the attention of the humans with whom their mate interacted, and for that reason, the only mark considered essential was the one administered intimately.

But Talia steadfastly refused any kind of marking, citing it too barbaric a practice for a forward-thinker like him.

The dichotomy of his predicament raged inside him, and he headed toward the moor, intent on shifting and running off some of his fury.

Since she'd deliberately gotten home early, Talia headed straight to the kitchen to put lasagna in the oven. She intended to make the evening special, to make up for some of the tension between her and Joshua.

Since the day was hot, unbearably so, she headed to the shower.

She'd expected Josh to be home, but wasn't overly worried. He'd likely taken himself off to the moor and hadn't yet gotten her text asking him to join her.

Thinking it might bring them closer if he'd shared that part of himself, Talia had once asked him to shift in front of her, but he'd steadfastly refused. It was his time, he'd said. Something he couldn't share with anyone, even her.

Many times when she woke in the night he would be gone. On his return, he'd often wake her and they would make love. Lately, he'd come home with a restless energy. She'd feel him slide into bed, turn over and slip into a troubled sleep.

Maybe it was all part of being a shapeshifter. Something to do with the phases of the moon.

She stripped off her work clothes, put the shower on cool, and stepped beneath the spray. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed the feel of the water against her skin and let the tension of the day slide off her shoulders.

Over the spray of water, she heard the click of the back door. Joshua was home. She didn't call out. He'd hear the shower soon enough, and by the time he reached the bathroom he would have stripped out of his clothes.

How was it that all their problems seemed to fall away when they had sex? Here, they were compatible. Here, they saw eye to eye.

So why did she still crave something that possibly didn't even exist?

Unbidden, her thoughts slipped back to that night she'd gotten lost on the moor. Why in heaven was she thinking about it so often these days? It was as if something called to her, made her more aware of her longing for what she'd experienced back then. Josh had been a young panther, he'd told her, running solo for the first time. Most of his kind didn't experience shifting until they reached puberty, and they had to run with more experienced members until they learned the secrets and challenges of the moor.

She'd been so desperate to learn more, to talk to him about that night and how much it had meant to her, but he was always circumspect. Probably because shifters weren't supposed to talk about their experiences on the moor, especially not with humans.

Pushing the thoughts away, she continued to soap herself, anticipating the moment the bathroom door would open and Joshua would stand there in all his glory and ready to play. With her free hand, she reached out and rubbed at the steamy shower screen, giving herself a clear window through which she would be able to see him. She could hear his footsteps—weird how attuned she was becoming to sound, scent and vision. It was almost as if her own senses had sharpened since she'd mated with a shifter. Perhaps that was a side effect? She'd have to check it out with Joshua. That was, if he'd be willing to discuss it.

The footsteps seemed to wander from room to room, and she speculated as to what particular game Joshua was playing. Had he thought of yet another inventive way to string out the anticipation? To make her wait for him so that she was so hot by the time he reached her that she'd be desperate to jump him?