The Becoming Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3) (6 page)

She immersed herself in this
break in reality; prayed the fire of his presence could keep the demons away.

But no good thing lasted
forever, and she was pushing it, falling deeper into this erotic meeting she’d
conjured with no way out. She was getting lost, so lost that when fur brushed
her skin again she didn’t notice it, the hard grind of his body distracting her
until it was too late. Hands, that had caressed her, shredded her skin with
curved claws. Serrated teeth cut into her flesh, tearing to get to her life.

No!

This wasn’t what happened,
this hadn’t happened.
It’s not how it goes!

Instead of being a little
girl in a red cape, she was the one thrashing under a mob of furry bodies,
reaching out a bloodied hand to her younger self, pleading with her eyes for
the child to get away.

The angle was new. Ash put it
down to the lust that had laid her out. She couldn’t feel young under all that
heat. So the demons had given her another body, one she knew almost as well as
her own. One she had cuddled up to, whose shrieks of horror had once been the
soft voice that read her bedtime stories. One whose screams were the soundtrack
to her recurring nightmares.

She watched her younger self
as she fled, her small slippered feet flashing in and out of the pools of light
cast by the night-lights lined prettily along the hallway. They were princess
ones, illuminating the Disney women against the white of the holiday home’s
walls. All the while, the man who had let death into her house, the man who
bore the brand of a wolf on his chest, the one who was supposed to protect
them, stood by and did nothing.  Darkness came again in a rush of snapping jaws
and she was torn into a twirl of confusion, crimson, almost liquid, flowing out
behind her as she fled in circles that only turned her into the flashes of
spreading red stains that seeped through the darkness.

Fur brushed against her face
and it was the last straw for her terror. She clawed her way into waking,
breath sawing, skin clammy. The sheets battled back, winding around her limbs
and trapping her in a web of hysteria. Ash was breathing fur in her panic; it
was in her mouth, gagging her, muffling her cries, stifling, killing.

Her eyes snapped open.

It was her mutt, just her
damn mutt.

Her hands wrapped around the
massive head pushing against her face and she inhaled on a choked sob. He lay
over her, crushing her chest and rasping the tears from her face. ‘Don’t let
them get me, pup. Please ...’

S
unlight vanquished the shadows and warmed Ash’s back
as she waited for an answer at her neighbour’s door. She ran a restless hand
through her hair, shoving it into even more disarray. The fumble of a chain
sounded, the click of a lock, two deadbolts being drawn ...
Jeez, am I
knocking at Fort Knox?
... and then the face of her neighbour appeared in
the crack, cut in half by the security chain.

‘Hey. Sorry to disturb you.’

‘Ashling, right?’ Liath
closed the door to release the chain and stepped out with a bright smile. ‘Is
everything okay?’

She nodded, hesitated, trying
to organise her thoughts in a coherent sentence. ‘Weird question, and I know
you said that the dog would help dissuade this, but, does this area get hit a
lot? With break-ins?’

‘Break-ins? No, never.
There’s nothing worth taking around here, love.’ Her laughter was light, but
concern shut the amusement down as her eyes caught the fear straining the lines
of Ash’s face. ‘You got hit? Are you hurt? Did they take anything?’

‘I’m not hurt.’ Not
physically, though her head and hormones had taken a bit of a spin. ‘And he
didn’t take anything. He didn’t even seem to be looking for anything.’ Nothing
but her, anyway.

‘Oh, pet,’ Liath grasped
Ash’s hand and squeezed. ‘Have you called the Guards yet? What did he look
like?’

‘Yeah ... um ...’ Ash held on
a moment longer before letting Liath’s hand fall with a strained smile, trying
to call up details that were forever imprinted in her desire’s eye. ‘Tall,
ridiculously tall, and broad, giant muscled mass of annoying ...’ The noise in
the back of her throat was a scoff, remembering his arrogance, his laughter at
her choice of weapon, his hands, tongue, teeth. ‘He had a little bit of a Jack
Sparrow thing going on, with the dreads,’ her hands moved to her hair, twisting
strands absently, ‘grey eyes, like polished steel.’
Could you sound more
like a romance novel? Why don’t you tell her about the size of his ‘gun’ too,
while you’re at it?

The other woman had gone
surprisingly still, regarding Ash strangely with her soft, jade eyes. Had she
said the gun part out loud?

‘What?’ Ash asked.

Liath’s brows perked up in
immaculately tweezed arches and her smile crept up with them. ‘He wasn’t a
thief.’ Four words and Ash’s heart hammered up.

‘Oh God, he’s a drug lord or
something, isn’t he? Part of the Irish mafia? Do you have an Irish mafia? You
know him?’ What she really wanted to ask wasn’t for polite conversation and
something fanged and green-eyed was gnawing at her gut.

‘I know him. He lives in the
basement of your building. He looked after Mrs DeMorgan’s dog for her, walked
him, fed him. He helped her with a bunch of stuff. The lady didn’t get out
much. She’d have given him a key.’ No wonder the blonde hesitated. What a thing
to tell someone. That a stranger has a key to where they sleep. Looking
sheepish, Liath dropped her gaze and cloud-light dread tumble-weeded through
Ash’s stomach. She waited for a confession. And she wasn’t disappointed.

‘I ... may have told him you
were here. But only so he wouldn’t worry after the dog.’ The words were rushed
and followed by a deep inhale. ‘I didn’t think he’d go in without knocking, but
Connal doesn’t always adhere to the rules.’

Ash’s brow furrowed at the
name, recollection stirring. Her grandmother had said that exact name, the only
thing clear in her rambling, and Liath knew him well, it seemed, better than
she let on. For a second, Ash contemplated asking her about the tattoo. If she
knew what it meant to him. If she’d seen it anywhere else. But that would lead
to two things she wasn’t sure she wanted to know or be known. Firstly, her
neighbour didn’t need to know that she’d practically stripped the guy, Connal,
before she’d freaked out. Secondly, she didn’t want to examine the green
beastie whispering that this female may have seen more of him than Ash had.

 ‘Well ...’ Slightly
mollified that her neighbour didn’t seem all that terrified of her intruder,
Ash sniffed and cranked her jaw up. More than a little embarrassed she’d caused
such a fuss, she forced an edge to her voice. ‘He needs to learn some goddamn
manners. He can come and apologise whenever he’s ready. I promise I won’t hit
him again.’

‘You hit him?’ Liath’s face
blanched. ‘With what? Is he okay?’

‘With a ...’ lowering her
voice, she mumbled, ‘frying pan.’ Ash shook her head. ‘He was fine when he
left. I doubt I caused any permanent damage.’ Though he could be laid out in a
hospital somewhere still seeing tweety birds and resting off a concussion. Or
suffering a severe case of whiplash. She’d slammed on the brakes of their lust
mighty damn hard. ‘Maybe,’ Ash hesitated, ‘if you see him, you could give him
my apologies? And teach him how to knock?’

‘You can tell him yourself,
love. When he isn’t getting off his face drunk at Form, he’s usually wandering
around with a scowl and a hangover. You’ll undoubtedly see him.’ Liath wore the
face of disapproval, but it turned to a smile when she met Ash’s eyes. ‘He’s
more bark than bite most of the time, you shouldn’t need to hit him again when
you see him.’

‘Lovely.’ Ash snorted, two
hands tunnelling her hair back from her face as she exhaled, trying to piece
together this woman’s obvious affection for something that had seemed
terrifying enough to spark her nightmares. ‘What’s Form?’

Liath raised her face to the
sun, basking in the gentle heat. ‘It’s a club in town. They’re always serving,
they never close and they pay their girls really well. The tips alone cover my
bills.’ At Ash’s look, a laugh crinkled at the corners of gentle green eyes.
‘Oh no, not
that
, love. Strictly waitressing, though my uniform is more
stripper than waitress.’ She gave a small shrug as she looked back into her
house and its hallway inhabited by an army of toys. ‘You should come by some
night, even if Connal isn’t there.’

‘Thanks,’ Ash replied. ‘Can I
ask you something?’

‘Sure.’

‘Do you know what a
latent
is?’ Connal had called her the ‘new
latent
.’ Ash could only think it
might be local slang for something. If she found out it meant hooker, she'd
take more than a frying pan to his head.

Liath looked vacant. ‘Not a
clue, sorry’ she shrugged. ‘Why do you ask?’

Any response that might have
left Ash’s lips at that point was cut off by a child’s cry, a loud ‘Mammy!’
hollered tearily from somewhere within. She smiled at Liath and waved off her
apology.

‘Go, I’m good. I swear. It’s
nice to know I didn’t get broken into. I’ll just invest in some more locks.’ By
way of reassurance, Ash two thumbs-upped the woman and wandered back, taking
the steps down from the doorway with another wave, extra cheery. She returned
to the dwellings of insanity to seek out a locksmith and maybe plan what she
would say if she ever came across the man-mountain named Connal.

A
sh may have lain awake that night, huddled beneath the
covers and listening for intruders that never materialised, but eventually,
fatigue wore her down and she was dragged into the kind of deep, dead sleep she
hadn’t enjoyed for months. When she finally awoke to the hound tickling her
feet, she wondered at the restorative powers of a dreamless night.

God, she was about to jump
out of her skin. When you get up in the morning with the jitters and no
caffeine in sight, you have permission to freak out. She was bouncing on the
balls of her feet and rolling her shoulders like a prize fighter about to step
into the ring. Maybe it was something in the water. She felt powerful and weak,
all at the same time. She felt sexy, turning this way and that in front of the
mirror, naked. She didn’t feel fat with her more than average curves. No, the
longer she stared, the more she thought the word
voluptuous
could
actually be applied to her.

She felt high.

Or what she assumed it felt
like to be high.

Ash was still buzzing as she
pulled on some clothes.

‘Mutt!’ He came bounding
eagerly, streaking through the hallway to skid to a stop at her feet, his
muzzle on her chest as he gazed up at her with expectant eyes and a thudding
tail. ‘We’re going for a walk.’ The thudding increased, thumping against the
wood flooring with enough force to create its own little cyclone of air. Leash
clipped to his collar, Ash stepped out into the murky noon that had settled
over Dublin and let him off for a run in the small patch of rural overgrown
behind the square of houses.

When she would have returned
to the house, the skies broke their cover to spear her in shafts of sunlight
and it was game over. No sense in wasting the sun to sit indoors and play sorter
to a bunch of musty papers. She spun on her heel and tugged the pup into the
centre of town to explore.