“I’m going to Scooby your ass when this is through,” Monty muttered. “I have a bone to pick with Grady for that stupid nickname. Scooby is a damn dog. I’m a wolf.” He put his pistol on the ground before lifting his T-shirt over his head. He toed off his boots and started on the snap of his pants before Dean stopped him.
“Whoa. Hold on.” He didn’t like the fact that Stacey had yet to blink.
“For God’s sake.”
“Wait a minute,” Dean growled. “Stacey, turn around. Do it.”
“This is stupid,” Monty said.
Considering Ac-taw always saw each other in various states of undress, Dean knew his behavior was irrational and territorial, but he couldn’t help himself.
To his vast satisfaction, the stubborn female listened to him. She took her sweet-assed time doing it, but that she turned around at all told him she felt a hell of a lot more for him than lust. She barely took orders from her brother. The sex must have softened her attitude toward him. Good to know.
Monty stripped naked and turned.
Dean waited until Monty had completely shifted. He found Monty’s radio and a collar stuffed into his jeans pocket. He attached the collar to Monty’s neck and strapped the radio to it, wishing he’d had the foresight to have done the same to the radio he’d left in the cave. Then he stashed Monty’s clothes and gun out of sight.
“You get help. Stacey and I will be around. Have one of the raptors close, would you? We’ll use him to keep in touch, since I left the radio behind.”
“Dumbass.” Monty’s tongue rolled out. A large black wolf with threads of gray in his fur and eyes that were Monty’s in wolf form or human, he looked oddly regal, and especially intimidating among other wolves.
“Hey, not my fault.” Dean shot Stacey a glare. “I didn’t know I’d be dealing with Hunters as well as crazy cats from Miami.”
She sat and rumbled an apology. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know either.”
He appreciated her sincerity, but he didn’t like that she hadn’t trusted him enough to tell him of her troubles earlier. They’d have to work on that. He had a few ideas about how to teach the woman to believe in him.
After Monty left, Dean transformed back into his animal spirit. He stretched and dug his claws into the ground, releasing scent. They left the cabin and he raced to a few spots to mark territory, unable to ignore the instinct.
“What are you doing?” Stacey watched with curiosity.
“Staking a claim.” On this land, and on you. He didn’t intend to let her know yet. He had to get past her emotional walls holding him out. Sex was all well and good, but he wanted more from the cocky cat. How much more he didn’t yet know and was afraid to think about, but he’d never let uncertainty stop him before. He’d get her trust, at least, one way or another. One kiss at a time.
Stacey wanted badly to argue with him—about anything—but she feared any animosity would transition into lust on her part. Who knew having sex with Dean Chastell would get her so keyed up? It was as if by giving him access to her body, she’d opened up a locked gate on her emotions. She couldn’t help looking at that charming feline face and feeling all warm and gooey inside. Gooey! Stacey Bermin, a woman who’d denied sultans and movie stars, smitten with a country boy who gave tours to hikers and fishermen for a living.
She glanced at his cat, loving his predatory stillness, the watchful gaze he kept on everything. He had muscle and stamina and a glorious coat covering said strength. Such a beautiful pelt. It just figured he’d be as handsome a cat as he was when a man.
Too bad he had the fashion sense of a lumberjack. Fortunately, the clothes he’d stripped out of at the cave were beyond salvaging—jeans and T-shirts, with the requisite flannel overshirt he’d left at the campsite with their gear. She could have wept. She was dying to put him in an Armani suit. He clearly had the looks and build to carry it off. Hell, she could have paraded him down any runway and watched the dollar signs go up as women bought the clothes, hoping to make their men look half as good as Dean.
“Like what you see?” He winked at her as they walked into the woods once more.
“I’d like it better if you just looked pretty and shut your mouth. Oh wait, where have we heard that before?”
She liked that he laughed. For all that Dean constantly annoyed her, he had a great sense of humor. How many other cats would take her constant bitchiness without either slapping at her or just finally leaving? She’d tried her damnedest, but Dean wouldn’t shake. And now she didn’t know what to do about these weird feelings for him she’d thought she’d buried years ago.
What a stupid time for a crush to grow back.
“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll take care of that sweet need you’ve got for me after we run for a while. Let’s settle in and make sure we’re dealing with nothing more than human campers before we get busy again. What do you say?”
She swiped at him and growled. He narrowly avoided her claws and gnashed his teeth at her.
“Please. Like I’m scared.” She huffed. “It’ll take a tougher cat than you to throw me.”
“I’ll throw you all right.” He mumbled something else she couldn’t make out, and they spent the next few hours giving each other a hard time as they navigated through the woods.
In the form of her animal spirit, Stacey thrived. She liked challenging Dean. They moved in concert, avoiding anything loud while keeping to the shadows of the trees. Birds chirped overhead, warning of their movements, and the rodents and small animals they encountered gave them a wide berth.
They skirted a few families and couples camping, as well as the occasional hiker, but no actual Hunters, that they could tell. They passed the scent of familiar wolves—members of the order, she imagined. But no cats, which she thought strange, especially if Quince had been honest about keeping an eye on her to tag Lex.
“Come on. Let’s take a break.” Dean bounded away from her, and she followed him into the trees. They continued for a ways until they came to a stream. The early evening sunlight filtered through the pines and danced on the rocky ground. She took a long drink of crisp, cold water and lay down.
“I’m hungry.”
“Me too.” Dean sat a few feet from her, his paws out front, his feet tucked in, looking like the Sphinx. “So, Stacey…”
“Yeah?” She waited for another smart-assed comment. From Dean she’d come to expect and even relish them. He didn’t placate her with flattery or try to coerce her into anything. He flat-out insulted her, teased her or said what he thought. Other than family—she didn’t have close friends—she’d never had anyone treat her like a regular person. Even the other Ac-taw in Cougar Falls fell all over themselves trying to please her. The men at least. The women had left her well enough alone, unlike the cats and socialites in Miami, trying to suck up for fashion advice, to grab one of the many men fluttering around her or hoping to borrow money.
“What do you do for fun?”
Chapter Six
“Fun?”
“Yes. It’s a word we country folk use around these parts.”
“Dean…”
“My people call F-U-N something that gives you pleasure. You got that down in Miami?”
“I know what fun is, jackass.”