Haze of Heat (18 page)

Confused. Happy. Scared. Elated. She puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t know. It’s all so very sudden.” And wasn’t that about the dumbest thing she could have said?

Porter pulled on his shirt. “I understand.” He sat on the couch where they’d just had wild, debauched sex and casually tugged on his socks, his boots. “I just.” He paused, glanced up at her. “I want to be with you, Rachel.”

Mouth drier than dirt, she whispered, “I want to be with you, too.”

He nodded again, stared at the floor for several moments. “All right. Good. That’s very good.” Heaving out a breath, he looked back up. “I’ll do some checking, see if I can find some horse property around Asheville. I don’t know how far out we’ll have to live, but hopefully not too far from your family.”

Shocked to her core, she goggled. “You’d move to North Carolina? Seriously? Just like that?”

Face creasing into puzzled lines, Porter rose to his feet. “Of course.” He prowled over, cupped her face in his wide palms and kissed her. “I’m in love with you. I’d go anywhere to be with you.”

Goo. Melting into a pile of goo.
She tumbled completely, irrevocably and all the way in love.

On the coffee table, his cell phone rang. A wry smile flirted over his lips. “Sounds like the dinner bell. Just think about it. Okay?”

Stunned at his selflessness, Rachel’s head bobbed a few times before she managed to say, “I can do that.”

Chapter Twenty

The phone call wasn’t the dinner bell. Rand Hensen had arrived.

“Did you really have to bite me? Again?”

Porter glanced down at Rachel, eyes zeroing in on the mark she’d covered up with makeup. Both marks, actually, as the one on the other side of her neck hadn’t completely healed yet. Not that it mattered.

“Yes. I really did. “ Because any shifter would be able to see past the concealer and know in an instant to whom Rachel belonged. “You’re mine.”

While that knowledge soothed his beast, as did the skin-to-skin contact via their linked fingers, the blatant attempt to hide his brand chapped his hide. Especially after telling her he was in love with her. Talk about an ego bust.

Then, while he’d waited impatiently, she’d done more. Her silky hair was twisted in some updo, exposing her vulnerable neck in a way that made him want to snarl. More makeup adorned her face. Tiny drop earrings swung from her lobes. She’d also changed into another one of those body skimming pants and a short-sleeved top.

“I’m not a possession, Porter. I’m my own woman.”

He paused at the base of the stairs, pulled her close so they pressed chest to thigh. Her sharp inhalation at the sudden move, coupled with the soft fit of her body against his, stirred his blood. “You can be your own woman all you want. Doesn’t mean you’re not my woman.”

One slim brow arched. “How very generous of you.”

Her scathing tone had him fighting a smile. “I’m a generous guy.”

“You’re also sadly mistaken if you think that kind of attitude is going to fly with me.”

Delighted with her, he grinned and kissed the disdain from her lips. “Only a little. But I do love how easily riled you get.”

She huffed. “Porter, this is serious.”

“I don’t disagree. That you belong to me is as serious as my love for you. As is the fact that I belong to you as well.” When she softened in his arms, he kissed her again. Gently. A tender manifestation of his conviction. “But what’s life without a little fun?”

“Dutiful.” An instant response that tickled him, especially as it was accompanied by a hint of frivolity in her emerald eyes.

“Boring.” He threaded their fingers once again and headed down the hall toward the living room, swinging their joined hands in carefree pleasure. “However, I do know when to be serious.”

“Without being arrogant?”

“Of course.” As they neared the front of the house, he erased every external sign of amusement. “See?” He pointed to his expression with his free hand. “Serious face.”

Rachel only rolled her eyes to the ceiling and he had to squelch the desire to chuckle. Just because he could be serious didn’t mean he couldn’t find and appreciate the amusement in just about any given situation.

As they approached the living room, Porter spied Santos, holding up the wall next to the arched entry, arms folded, eyes hard and vigilant. His eldest brother didn’t acknowledge them, keeping his unblinking attention on those who waited in the room.

Now that one was serious man. Though he’d thankfully loosened up some since mating Ria.

All joking was shoved aside as they stepped fully into the room. In less than a second, Porter sized up the newcomers. The male leopard shifter sitting on the couch was Rand Hensen, an ordinary-looking man in his mid-fifties with dark blond hair, a medium build, light skin, and brown eyes. One ankle rested on the knee of his tan slacks while the knee of his raised leg abutted the knee of the woman sitting beside him.

Relaxed in that carefree way confident women have, the sleek and well-dressed woman was his mate. Her skin was the color of creamed coffee and flawless. Dark hair crowned a face sculpted to chiseled perfection and was scraped back in a style that left tight curls to riot about her head like a halo.

The stunning whiskey color of her eyes and her skin tone matched those of the impressive male leopard standing in front of the fireplace on the other side of the room—far enough away so he wouldn’t be encumbered should a brawl break out, yet close enough to protect his alpha pair.

It wasn’t only his massive build or the cool intelligence in those clear eyes that had Porter’s senses on high alert; it was the energy contained in that muscled frame. Whoever this male was, he was more powerful than the alpha of the Greenleaf Pack. And, no doubt, the reason for Santos’s unwavering stare.

“Ah. There she is.” This from his mom, who sat across from Rand and his mate in an overstuffed chair, his dad hitched, deceptively at ease, on the armrest. Deceptively because Dad had placed himself between his mate and the shifter that stood at attention.

Seeing her in one of her many outfits that screamed feminine elegance, all tidy and neat, her movements pure grace, slapped him upside the head. What a kick in the ass it was to realize Rachel was a lot like his mother.

“Here we are.” He let go of Rachel’s hand and angled slightly in front of her. Too bad if she considered the position overbearing. It was a protective stance instinctual to the heart of the jaguar and the soul of the man. The feel of her fingers curling into his belt loop only eased the tension in his muscles a fraction. Because this outsider alpha had insulted his mate.

“Porter, this is Rand Hensen, the alpha of the Greenleaf Pack. His mate, Natalie, and his second, Shaw. My son Porter and, of course, Rachel.” His mother could be faced with a bloodthirsty mob of raving zombies and still she would follow proper etiquette. At least until they crossed some inherent line known only to her. If they were in her home, she would treat them as guests.

Porter wasn’t feeling as accommodating. “So what brings you to the Orchards? Had second thoughts on how you treated Rachel?” He had no compunction at displaying his contempt. Any alpha that rejected assistance—hell, any person, for that matter—to someone in need was on his piece of shit list.

Clearly Porter’s lack of finesse shocked everyone in the room. Though amusement flickered for a nanosecond in Shaw’s eyes.

Melinda coughed into her hand. “Yes, well. Porter’s usually much more charming than this.”

“Porter isn’t feeling charming right now.” Yeah, he was worked up enough he was talking about himself in third person. “He wants to know why the alpha of the Greenleaf Pack, who denied Rachel protection unless she did something completely asinine, is now in the midst of my pack. To see if she’s having second thoughts? Because I’ll tell you right now, she’s not going anywhere with you.”

Rand’s lips pressed into a thin line. “That would be her decision to make.” A not-so-subtle knee knock from his mate had his nostrils flaring, which in turn had his eyes morph from hot anger to surprise. “Evidently I’m too late.”

“What my husband is trying to say,” Natalie put in, splaying a hand on her mate’s thigh, “is that Rachel unfortunately took the brunt of his misplaced anger.”

“Anger at what, exactly?” Rachel asked.

Rand looked at Rachel, his gaze settling on the unseen marks on her neck without error.

That’s right, you bastard.
Porter thought with malicious glee and a mountain of pride.
Rachel’s mine.

“Your aunt.”

Rachel cocked her head in thought. “Because you thought she shouldn’t have married a human?”

Rand didn’t waver in his answer. “Yes. She is a shifter. She should have mated with her kind and produced the cubs we desperately need to keep our pack thriving.”

An asshole to the end.
Porter bared his teeth.

“However,” Rand stated before Porter could rip him a new one. “Once my temper had cooled, I realized the, ah, ultimatum I produced was unjust. When I found out about the list my son gave you, I felt obliged to make sure you were okay, and to grant you the sanctuary you’d asked for.”

“Oh. Well, thank you, but I’m quite happy where I am.”

Rachel’s declaration made Porter stand up taller. “You could have called and asked her instead of making a special trip out.” He didn’t trust that Rand’s sudden interest in Rachel’s well-being the only reason for this visit.

“Because I was a second option.” Shaw spoke for the first time. At Rachel’s incredulous look, the big man grinned, giving his granite features rugged appeal. Enough so that Porter shifted again, blocking more of Rachel from Shaw’s engaging smile. That only made the big male laugh.

“No worries, man. I can see she’s willingly mated to you. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Yeah.” Porter eyed Shaw cautiously. “Thanks.”

“We should go, then.” Rand suited action to words and rose to his feet, assisting Natalie.

“You don’t wish to stay?” Melinda stood as well, looked from Rand to Natalie to Shaw and back again.

“No reason to now,” was Rand’s curt reply.

“And being around this many alphas is making me twitchy.” Shaw nodded as he made a wide berth around Porter and Rachel. “Good luck and all that.”

“Hold on a sec.” Porter waited until Rand and Natalie, trailed by his parents and Santos, left the room. “You seem like a decent guy. A strong one at that. How come you’re following that asshole and not running your own pack?”

Shaw’s mouth twisted into a grimace. “Because that asshole is married to my sister. And my presence makes sure he treats her like the treasure she is.” He looked out one of the living room windows where the others stood talking. When his attention returned to Porter and Rachel, an unholy gleam danced in his fascinating eyes. “And if you think Rand is the real alpha of the pack, you’d be wrong. Rachel would never have mated with my nephew. As for me, I was simply curious about the niece of the only female ever to blatantly defy my brother-in-law.”

Porter glanced out the same window, taking note of Natalie’s posture, her vivid animation. “Natalie?”

Shaw’s laugh boomed out in the large room. “That woman’s got more power in her pinkie than her husband has in his whole skinny body. But Greenleaf’s an old pack, set in their ways. Most won’t follow a female alpha. It’s also why Rand, and all of us, are anxious for new matings. For cubs. If we can’t replenish the old, the pack will die out.”

Porter mused that over. “Change isn’t always a bad thing.” He hugged Rachel tight to his side.

“Only if it’s the right kind of change.” Shaw and Porter shook hands. “Nice meeting you two.”

“You as well, Shaw.” Rachel beamed at him. “Good luck.”

Porter remained silent until Shaw appeared outside, next to the alpha pair. “Cross Rand off the stalker list.” At her irritated sound, he faced her. “What? That’s a good thing.”

“Yes. But it’s also not Trevor.” She swiveled on her heel and walked out, heading for the back of the house.

Porter was right behind her. “We don’t know that.”

“Not until we ask.”

She was like a dog with a bone. “Hell. Not that again.”

“Yes, that again.”

“Seems we’re doing a split shift tonight when it comes to dinner,” Katie remarked from the swinging kitchen doors as Porter and Rachel strode in the empty dining room. “Are the others coming?”

“They won’t be but a few more minutes,” Porter informed her.

“We can eat in the kitchen if you’re trying to clean up in here,” Rachel offered, having noticed, as did Porter, the wisps of smoke from the snuffed out cans beneath the chafing dishes.

Katie shook her head. “It would be best if you didn’t. It’s not safe. Sit and I’ll bring out some tea for everyone.”

As Katie pushed through the doors, Annie’s voice bellowed out, “Leave my cupcake trays alone, you transparent harpy of ectoplasm.”

Porter grinned at Rachel, maneuvering her to the sideboard. “I think Annie’s about had it with our ancestor.”

Melinda’s sigh had Porter and Rachel glancing over their shoulders. “One of you really needs to talk some sense into Cort.”

“Ah, Mom?” Santos frowned at Melinda as they, along with Andreas, sidled up to fill plates behind Rachel and Porter. “He’s a ghost. His very existence makes no sense.”

Everyone looked up from what they were doing when the kitchen doors swung open again. “I cook and I clean, which makes this
my
kitchen.
Mine
. If you don’t like where something is located, then don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you. Vamoose.”

Katie winked as she set a full pitcher of tea on the table. “Gram’s classic Southern hospitality.”

“Thank you, Katie. Did all our guests eat?” Melinda asked, sitting down.

“Yes. The Johnstons went into the rec room and Mr. Daniels mentioned having a go at the puzzle in the parlor.”

“Perfect timing,” Rachel whispered at his side. “He’s alone.”

“No.” Porter didn’t want her anywhere near the other man.

“What’s the problem?” Santos popped a forkful of chicken in his mouth and chewed.

Porter frowned when Rachel immediately said, “I want to ask Trevor how he found out about the Orchards.” She proceeded to explain why the writer wasn’t her stalker, and followed that with her theory on how he might have unwitting information regarding Larry.

“I see no reason not to,” Melinda said, making Porter groan.

“If anyone asks him, it’ll be me,” Porter decreed.

Rachel made an impatient sound. “Trevor doesn’t know you. It would be best if I go in alone.”

“Yeah. Don’t think so.”

Rachel bared her teeth in a fairly well-replicated feline snarl. “He’s not going to hurt me, you dolt. If you’re so concerned, you can stand outside the door and listen in.”

“Rachel’s right.” This from Rome, who appeared at the hall archway. “He’ll be more at ease with someone he knows and everyone will feel better knowing he’s not the stalker. We can stand outside and verify if he’s lying.”

Because lying produced a rotten scent that shifters could pick up.

“See?” Elated, Rachel pointed her fork at Porter.

Porter glared at Rome and then turned to Rachel. “If I let you do this, you don’t get within ten feet of him. Don’t make eye contact, and absolutely no touching.”

He knew his words were high-handed, but gripped by the fierce power of the mating heat and tortured by the uncertainty of his mate’s feelings for him, a lethal breakdown of his control was a wrong breath away.

Rachel pursed her lips, paused a moment before answering. “First off, I will tell you that I don’t need your permission. I’ll talk with Trevor with or without you.”

Porter could feel his cat clawing for freedom, wanting to tie its mate down and demand total submission. Only that wouldn’t work, because Porter wanted something far more important than complete obedience from Rachel. He wanted her heart. He opened his mouth to—what? Apologize? Grunt and growl some more? Bang his fists on his chest?

“But I’d rather do it with you.”

That admission snapped his mouth shut and quieted his beast like nothing else would have. A small capitulation that had him lifting her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles in gratitude.

“Now that bloodshed has been averted,” Rome said, rubbing his hands together, “let’s do some covert operating.”