You've Got Tail (14 page)

“So, Judah's ghost's has just been hanging around? No rhyme or reason?” Babel changed the topic so abruptly, it startled me. He really didn't want to talk about the shaman.

“Not that I can tell.” I felt weird talking about his dead brother. Especially, since Judah hadn't left my side since he'd shown up on the road. It dawned on me though, the one place he'd led me had been to Sheila Murphy. “Do you think Sheila might've had something to do with your brother's disappearance?”

He paused a moment, as if to think about the question carefully. Finally, he shook his head. “Sheila's a lot of things. Spoiled, wild, a free-spirit, and often a bitch. But she's no killer.”

A stab of jealousy went through me. He sounded as though he admired her. And, damn, I was a fool. He'd had sex with her two days before he'd had sex with me. Did Sheila think her and Babel had a relationship? I pushed the awful question away, and concentrated on more productive thoughts. Babel had said Sheila was no killer, but I had wounds on my shoulder that begged to differ. Or at least I was pretty certain it had been Sheila. Those eyes were too much like hers. She would have killed me and had me for dinner the night of the full moon if Babel hadn't pulled her off.

But he seemed so adamant about her character that I didn't think I could get him to agree. Instead, I changed the subject. “Why do you want to leave Peculiar?”

Babel shrugged before standing up. He paced back and forth, his gaze never wavering from me as he moved. When he finally stopped, he shook his head with a denial that seemed to filter all the way through him. “This isn't my world.”

I snorted beer through my nose. Not attractive. “Sorry.”

“S'okay.” He took the bottom of his T-shirt and wiped the beer from my face. I leaned forward into his touch so that his palm brushed my skin. The natural heat from his hand spread through me from nose to toes. I'd read books before where the heroine's “loins were aching.” I always thought the description was a total corn-fest. Not anymore. My loins ached. Oh, jeezus, they totally ached.

If Babel noticed, he didn't react. He wiped his hands on his jeans and said, “I can see how you'd think it was strange. I grew up with humans. I like humans. Hell, some of the people I care about most in the world are human.” He rested his warm palm on my cheek. I leaned forward to fully meet his caress.

“That's not to say that I don't like therians,” he added. “That would just be too self-loathing. But, I guess, I just don't want to hide myself from the world.”

The last bit hit a little close to home. Chavvah had known how unhappy I was in California. I'd wanted to escape, just another way to hide, from the world I'd come from, so when she'd proposed the restaurant in Small Town, Midwest, I'd jumped at the chance. And look how that turned out. Here I was, the only human in a town full of shape shifters. I really couldn't fathom what Chav had been thinking.

Chav.

Guilt throbbed in my gut. I should be out there looking for her every minute of every day until I found her. I had been more than useless since my arrival in town. The only things I'd managed to do were have sex with her brother and nearly get myself killed. But what could I do?

I really wasn't Nancy Drew. I didn't know how to investigate the ingredients on a box of honey buns. How in the hell was I going to find a missing person? Why hadn't Chav just sent a longer text? Something with a big, fat, get-a-clue moment?

Instead of, “Sunny, I need u,” would it have killed her to add a few more letters, such as, “Sunny, I need u. I'm being kidnapped or followed by John Doe.” Had she been kidnapped? Or was she choosing to stay hidden?

My gut knotted with anxiety, but my head told me that the Chavvah I knew, the one who'd become my best friend, was too smart to get herself trapped.

I didn't understand how she could love a place so much, or how Judah could have loved the same place, and yet, something so sinister lurked beneath the surface. Heck, the place did have a way about it. Even I'd been drawn to the town immediately. Why was Babel so reluctant to embrace its charm?

“You don't have to stay here, ya know.” I shrugged. “Hide, I mean. It's not like anyone in the outside world can know what you really are.”

“And what do you think I am, Sunny?” Babel rolled his neck, cracking bones in the process. “I'm a man first. And while I have to hide the animal side of myself, out there I can follow my dreams in a way that I can't here. I have ambitions that move beyond this kind of place. I mean, I went to college, got a degree. I couldn't ever use it here. There's not a lot of call for a public relations analyst in this type of community. Do you get that?”

Public relations analyst? What the heck? Maybe there was more to Babel Trimmel than I'd first thought. I did understand, though. He liked being among the free and the brave, having the ability to pursue his life, liberty, and happiness. Being in Peculiar was like being in another country. It had its own citizens, politics, and rules.

I risked another sip of beer, letting the cool amber liquid trickle into my mouth. “I get it. I just look out at this peaceful front yard with all its trees and no neighbors, and wonder how anyone could want to live anywhere but here.”

I'd also seen the backyard view from the window in the kitchen, nothing but a sparse lot of trees and a gorgeous lake. I could totally live here, and when I found Chavvah, we'd…My gut ached for my friend. I'd been less than useless since I'd arrived in Peculiar. Finding out no one was human had been a big pill to swallow, but at least it gave me more information to investigate when I got back into town.

Oh. Town. It dawned on me that I had no idea what the good denizens of Peculiar planned on doing with me. They wouldn't want to take a chance on their second nature getting out. And no matter what a boon Billy Bob thought I was, I figured most of the town wouldn't be feeling quite as warmly toward me. “What do you people plan to do with me, by the way?”

“Do with you?” His eyes softened around the edges and warm heat from his gaze melted me to my toes. “Well, I don't know about
you people,
but there are several things I'd like to do with you.”

His voice had dropped two octaves, the way it did when he was lusty and sexy, and it fondled my horny button like no man's voice ever had. It made me want to be fondled in so many, many wicked and naughty ways, but truthfully, I wanted to know. I had dawned on me more than once that I knew a major secret, and it was a secret people might be willing to kill for.

“Stop that.” Although his teasing actually made me feel better. I didn't think Babel was the kind of guy who would try to sleep with a woman who was about to be dead meat. Then again, I would have never thought Babel was the kind of guy to sprout a tail either.

He sat down next me and traced the skin of my arm to the bend of my elbow with his fingertips. Goosebumps raised on my forearm. “Well, it's not like we haven't been…intimate.”

He said “intimate” as if it was some magic word. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feeling of home I got when Babel touched me. In a way, it was just like with Chav, not the sexual attraction part, but the part that drew me to him like a kitten to a box. Why did he make me feel safe? If I knew nothing else, I knew the feeling was probably a result of an adrenaline rush. I barely knew Babel's mind or the way he thought or felt about anything real. I knew he had a gorgeous body and that he knew how to use the damn thing, but beyond that, our relationship was more about our connection to his sister than about anything between us. I opened my eyes and moved his hand away then walked to the edge of the porch.

He came up behind me, his arms wrapping around me and folding me into him. Leaning my head against his shoulder, I gave in to the press of his chest against my back as his thickly muscled arms wrapped me in a cocoon that was a mixture of safety and lust. The avocado in his California roll. Oh, how I wanted to completely give myself to Babel. Especially when the sculpted muscles of his thighs grazed my ass. The pool of moisture between my legs indicated the flesh was definitely willing, even if the spirit wavered.

As he rubbed himself against me, the rigid planes of his hips and groin pressing into me added to my growing need to boink him immediately. I turned in his arms. I would let him take me, possess me. I was weak against his seduction.

The phone rang in the house, trilling loudly, and breaking Babel's spell on me. I groaned and nestled my face against his chest. “You better answer that. It could be important.”

He nibbled my jawline and kissed me. His mouth was wet and delicious with cold beer. “The answering machine can get it,” he said.

Oh, God, I wanted to run my fingers all over his body and dig the tips into his firm flesh. To have him fill me again, to ride me until I vanished into a delicious orgasm that would make all the bad stuff fade, was beyond tempting.

The answering machine picked up, and while I couldn't make out the actual, “leave your name and number part,” my skin burned when I recognized the person leaving the message.

“Babe, call me, sweetheart. I am aching for you.”

Hearing Sheila stopped my breath and my heart. I stepped away from Babel and out of his grasp.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “Sunny, it's not what you think.”

“You have no idea what I'm thinking,” I said, my voice cold even to my own ears. My shoulder ached and I rubbed it. I wanted a hot shower. More to put distance and a door between us than for any other reason. Total bastard! “I want to go back to the apartment.”

Babel came up behind me. “You can stay here tonight.” There wasn't the same lasciviousness in his voice as before. It was an offer now, nothing more.

“I want to be alone.” Really, I didn't want to be alone. Not after the attack.

“Sunny.” Babel's voice was soft and low, gentling. “You should stay, at least until tomorrow.” He touched my hair. “I'll sleep on the couch.”

The offer was tempting, not because I wanted him, but because I really was scared. A lot of stuff had gone down over the past several days, and while I liked to think I was bad-ass, it just wasn't true. I hated myself for feeling like a damsel in distress. I wanted to say screw it, and make him take me home. I wished hard for my vehicle. If it hadn't been busted up so badly from the wreck, I'd drive to the nearest roadside park, lock the doors, and sleep away my worries.

Regrettably, I had no such options. So, for safety reasons only, I decided to stay. It had nothing to do with his bulging muscles, tight ass, or endearing dimples. I was a fool for having gotten myself involved with him in the first place—best friend's brother and way younger than me—I reminded myself.

But the thoughts didn't stop me from needing to be with someone tonight, as in proximity, not sex. “Okay then.”

I
walked into the kitchen with the worst tunnel vision of my life. Not even six Black Martinis at The Bitter End had produced such a fuzzy peripheral. I noticed immediately the kitchen wasn't Babel's kitchen or my own.

Where the hell am I?

I opened my mouth to ask, but instead the words “Where do you keep your spatulas?” came out and they were said with a distinctly male voice.

Huh? I looked down at my large hands and hairy knuckles.

This can't be good.

There wasn't a response to the question, so I began rummaging through the kitchen drawers. Really weird, since all I wanted to do was get the heck out of whomever's body I was in. In one of the drawers, under a pile of cooking utensils, I saw a red ledger. I could feel the quiet curiosity of my host's mind.

Flipping open the book, I saw dates, initials, and monetary sums. Big, really big sums. 07/15 JT $15,000, 07/25 RC $17,500, 07/19 GH $20,000, and so on, the numbers and letters continued. Whatever the money was for, the price kept going up.

“Hey, sugar,” my host said. “What's this book about?”

I was glad he asked. I was curious myself. I put the ledger back in the drawer where I found it and
pulled a spatula from the next drawer I looked in. “I hope you like your eggs over easy.”

Before I could turn around to see who “sugar” was, I woke up with a foggy brain.

I was on Babel's couch, my head pounding still from the dream. At least I was pretty sure it was a dream. I remembered the word “sugar” but the rest had already started to fade.

The couch had been fairly comfortable so I wasn't completely pissed at myself for convincing Babel to sleep in his own bed. Not that there weren't several times during the night where I'd woken up and thought seriously about making the journey to the bedroom, but good sense kept me in place. And other than a minor crick in the neck and some quiet regret, I'd survived the night on
Temptation Island
.

I can't say I was completely delighted at Babel's self-restraint. Not that I wanted to have sex with a player. I'd promised myself after the last guy that I wouldn't fall for the same bullshit again. So why did I want to give up my scruples for Babel? It couldn't just be about his looks. I've never been that shallow about guys. I'd almost allowed myself, during dinner the night before, to imagine a relationship with him. I could be so dumb sometimes.

Since my clothing options were limited, Babel loaned me a black T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that were ridiculously big on me, but at least had a drawstring. The shirt smelled wonderfully of candied orange peels. I'd never smelled a fabric softener or detergent quite like it. Bunching the shirt in my fists, I took another whiff. Babel was full of pleasant surprises.
No,
I admonished myself.
I will not think fondly of him. I will not think of him at all.

Getting up at six in the morning was not one of those pleasant surprises. An ungodly hour, and Babel was already in the kitchen rustling around when I wandered in.
Holy hard body, Batman!
He only had on boxer briefs, and wow, in the light of day, and for the third time, I had to marvel at all the dips, and curves, and cuts of his muscles. Even with his hairy chest, every part of him was the very definition of
definition
.