The dreams had always been her secret, but the time for secrets was past. If she was going to deal with this new world she found herself in, she would have to start talking about it.
She looked at Jackson. “Dreams. I’ve always had them, but I never really remembered more than bits and pieces in the morning. After I met Marcus, I started having them almost every night. I remember them now.”
He looked pensive. “Are you interested in learning more about it? Maybe we can find someone. I mean, I know lots of wolves, but cougars are so rare.”
“Really?” If it was true—if any of it was true—it might explain why Marcus seemed so determined to have her. “But… Well, why? I mean, why is it so rare?”
Jackson shrugged a shoulder. “Wolves are the only breed that can transform others. I don’t know why; I’m not sure if anyone does. But all the old legends about werewolf bites and lycanthropy… They have a grain of truth to them.” He finished his coffee and set the mug down. “Nick and Alec were both born wolves. They come from old families. But Derek Gabriel—I think you met him at the bar—was turned by an attack several years ago.”
“The one Nick has a crush on?”
He snorted. “Don’t let her hear you say that, or you might be looking for a new job. She’s had it bad for him since he started coming to the bar, and that was way back when Mahalia still owned it.” Jackson shook his head. “Too bad.”
“He seems nice enough,” Mackenzie protested. “I mean, a bit of a flirt, but that can be charming sometimes too.” She raised one eyebrow at him. “Or are you going to try and tell me you’re not the kind of guy who likes to flirt?”
“Hey, now. I like to flirt as much as, but no more than, the next guy. But I wasn’t kidding when I said the wolves were all over the place.” He seemed to be choosing his words carefully. “There are so many of them that they have their own society, complete with a complex political structure…and prejudices. Nick’s father is the top dog, the leader of them all. The Alpha. That’s why it’s too bad about her unfortunate crush.”
She studied his face, trying to understand his meaning. “Nick said her father didn’t like her owning a bar in New Orleans. She didn’t seem too upset about it. Being with Derek would be worse than that?”
He looked vaguely ill. “Derek’s a second-class citizen, Mackenzie.” At her shocked breath, he shrugged again. “Welcome to the realities of supernatural society. Sucks just as bad as the world you’re used to, unfortunately.” He paused. “Not that Nick cares. She’s not like that. Most of the shifters in the city are here because they refuse to be part of that society.”
“God, that’s terrible.” She shivered and drew her legs up to wrap her arms around them. “But you said there aren’t as many cougars. Do you think—?” She stopped, not sure if she wanted an answer to her question. “Is that why Marcus won’t leave me alone?”
“Could be. Did he say anything about wanting you to have lots of his babies?”
Mackenzie couldn’t help the flush that colored her cheeks. “He said—God, it’s so pathetic I can’t believe I’m repeating it.” She took a deep breath and made a face. “He said we were destined to be the parents of the most important children history might ever see.”
Jackson choked. “That seems a bit…enthusiastically ambitious.”
“I’ve been tending bar for four years. I’ve had my share of guys hit on me. But he reminded me of a religious fanatic or something. Like God had sent him forth to marry me and father children on me. It was creepy even before he tried to snatch me off the street.”
Jackson’s fingers tightened on the arm of the chair, digging into the supple brown leather. “He’s not going to get you, Mackenzie. Alec and I are good. We’ll stop him.”
“Okay,” she said, more to reassure him than anything else. They sat in silence as the jazz floated through the room. Jackson hadn’t mentioned taking her somewhere else for the night, but their easy flirtation during dinner hadn’t been serious enough to make her think he expected her to spend the night with him.
Too bad.
The thought startled her, though it probably shouldn’t have. She’d been almost painfully attracted to Jackson since she’d laid eyes on him, and that attraction hadn’t wavered, even in the face of everything they’d been through in the past twenty-four hours. If anything, it had just grown stronger.
And here they were, alone in his apartment with soft jazz playing and a couple of glasses of wine singing through her veins, and she wanted more than anything to touch him. To slide her hands over his face, to touch his hair and tangle her fingers in it. She wanted to see the strong muscles she’d felt through his clothing when he’d pulled her back in the alleyway, to run her hands along his skin and feel his mouth on hers.
She just wanted, and she couldn’t keep that desire from her face, from her eyes. She saw the truth of it when he looked at her, heard it in the way his breathing hitched as he watched her study him. He could see it, could tell everything she wanted to do.
He shifted in his chair. “It’s getting late,” he said, his voice a low rasp. “Whenever you’re ready, I can pull the couch out. It’s not the most comfortable bed in the world, but it’ll do in a pinch.”
It was impossible to tear her eyes away from his. “Don’t worry about it,” she heard herself say in a soft, husky whisper. “I can sleep on it like this. Find me a pillow and a blanket, and it’ll be more comfortable than most of the places I’ve slept lately.”
He looked away and headed for the hallway. “It’s not a bother. I’ll just get everything ready while you’re brushing your teeth. No problem.”
Mackenzie rose quietly, picked up her bag and slipped past him into the bathroom.
By the time she returned, he’d pulled out the bed and was busily tucking a sheet around the fold-out mattress. She moved to help him, and he shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’ve got it.” Her shoulder brushed his bare arm, and he hissed in a sharp breath.
She felt her own breathing roughen at the hot look in his eyes. If she’d had any doubts about whether he wanted her, they were swept away under the intensity of that gaze.
Her hand rose, seemingly of its own volition, and she stopped it just before her fingers brushed his skin. “Jackson—”
He leaned closer, his head bending toward hers, and she licked her lips, anticipating the kiss. Jackson froze, cleared his throat and backed away, retrieving a pillow from the leather chair. “Here. If you need another blanket, there are some in the closet in the hall. Sleep well.”
Then he turned and walked out of the room.
She clutched the pillow to her chest, her heart beating far too quickly. The realization that he’d executed a chivalrous retreat brought a hint of a blush to her cheeks as she slid onto the bed and curled under the thin blanket.
Mackenzie dreamt of wide open fields and running wildly downhill, with the wind in her face and the smell of the forest surrounding her. But when she reached the bottom of the hill and tumbled onto the grass, she wasn’t a cougar. Jackson rolled her over, crushing the flowers beneath them as his lips lowered to hers…
Even in her sleep, she smiled.
Chapter 7
Jackson dodged a couple of early-morning joggers and cut across the street, deep in thought. He’d hated dropping Mackenzie off at Nick’s place, especially when he knew Nick would probably sleep for several more hours, but he hadn’t had a choice. He couldn’t leave her by herself, and Nick’s renovated side-hall Victorian cottage in the French Quarter was the only place with wards every bit as impressive as the ones at his own apartment. Besides, his only other alternative would have involved bringing her to the office with him, and he wasn’t sure it was a good idea for the two of them to be together anywhere near Kat. His assistant would pick up on the sexual tension between them in a heartbeat.