Lilith Saintcrow - Taken

But she couldn’t very well say that, could she. Her home was burned down, and she was depending on Zach for everything. She didn’t much like it, either. They’d told her at the shelter how an abusive relationship started—and how a man could isolate you from your friends and family, so you lost all sense of proportion and ended up thinking whatever he wanted to do to you was right and normal.

How do I know he didn’t bring those…those vampire things, too? She followed him, most of her attention taken up with worrying, until Zach stopped short and a low thrumming sound alerted her to the fact that the outside world was going on without her.

Sophie looked up.

This bar looked the same as every other puke-palace she’d seen this afternoon. It was long, and low, and dim even in the middle of the day, and the only thing separating this bar from the others was the number of shapes inside it. Who knew so many people drank during the day?

The only bright lights were over three pool tables in back, and Sophie shook yet more water out of her hair. Why did he do that? He’d leaned in and pressed his lips against hers, then done something odd— smelled her, an intimate little movement paired with an inhalation so deep she was surprised his ribs didn’t crack.

“Carcajou,” someone said, a low smoky male voice. “Well met.”

“Ursu.” The thrum under Zach’s tone didn’t go away. It wasn’t quite a growl. “Well met.”

The man clasping Zach’s forearm was big . He had wide shoulders under a wine-colored rugby shirt, stubble over his strong-jawed face, and dark eyes that gleamed like coals. Feathers were tied into his hair, fluttering on a draft from the door Sophie was holding open, and he loomed, slump-shouldered, over both of them.

The smell of the place hit the back of her throat like a shot of burning whiskey, and she coughed. It smelled like animals in here—healthy animals, under the pale ghost of cigarette smoke. The confusion was immediate, her newly sensitive nose picking out at least a hundred different odors at once and connecting them to strange images of fur and teeth, muscular sleek sides and broad paws bearing claws. The rush of mental pictures was so intense she actually rocked back on her heels, shaking her wet hair.

“That’s a new shaman. Congratulations.” The huge man was looking at her, unblinking. “Welcome, sister. The spirits speak well of you.”

What am I supposed to say to that? “Hello,” she managed, faintly. He was just so big . And he looked dangerous—not in the sleek, supple way Zach did.

She was suddenly very, very glad Zach was between her and this man.

They let go of each other’s forearms, and as her eyes adjusted to the gloom she saw others, all with that air of zinging vitality and danger. There were a few women, mostly playing pool, that smelled like cats—slightly oily, dry and healthy. A few of the men smelled like the one who had greeted Zach, the others smelled like different kinds of fur and wildness. One tipped a shot glass of something far back, slammed it down, and gave her an odd salute. He had little bones tied in his hair that clicked and clacked as he moved.

Toto, I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore. Sophie swallowed a lunatic laugh and moved closer to Zach. He was the only one who smelled familiar, and the musk he carried wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

Zach actually looked tremendously relieved. “I’ve got a bit of a problem—I’m hoping I might be able to find something out.”

“You mean about the price on your shaman’s head?” The big guy grinned. “I’m Cullen, by the way.”

“Zach.” They grinned at each other, toothy white grins that didn’t look very friendly. “I hadn’t heard there was a price.”

“Nobody in the Tribes would take it. But…well, why don’t you come in and sit down?” Cullen’s eyes wandered away from Zach, and Sophie let go of the door. It eased shut, latching with a small click. Her eyes finished adapting to the dark.

“Wait a second.” Her throat didn’t want to work properly. “A price on—”

“Just relax, Sophie.” Zach sounded, of all things, bored. “You’re on Tribe turf. This is pretty much the safest place for you in the whole city.”

“You got that right.” The big guy’s grin turned more genuine and widened, his lips coming down to cover most of his teeth. A rush of noise like crickets on a summer night filled her skull for a moment, and her vision did a funny double-trick.

Where Cullen had been standing was a pile of fur that resolved itself into a hump-shouldered bear, standing on its hind legs and testing the air, looking at her sidelong. And grinning at her, its tongue lolling fat, wet, and pink.

She backed up, moving so fast she barely felt it when her shoulders hit the door, and suddenly Zach was there, his hands on her shoulders. “Easy there,” he said softly, and there was movement behind him. The image of a bear had turned back into a man, and was staring at her, his chin lifted and his nostrils flaring. “Sophie. Sophie .”

She tore her gaze away from the other man with a physical effort, found herself staring at Zach. His eyes were dark and deep, fixed on her face, and his hands were gentle. That odd, heavy musk filled her nose, and her heart gave a pounding leap.

“I need you to be calm,” he murmured. “Otherwise we’re going to have a situation here.”

“She all right?” the bear-man asked, and the new tension in the air kicked up a notch.

“Just peachy.” Zach’s eyes never left hers. “Come on, Soph. Help me out here.”

It’s not Soph. It’s Sophie, goddamn you. Her lungs were refusing to work right, and another one of the panic attacks threatened, her muscles on the verge of locking down.

“I thought you said this was safe,” she managed, in a breathy whisper.

“It is safe.” He didn’t roll his eyes, but it was close. “You’re with me .”

Oh, well, that’s all right, then. She swallowed another weird hysterical laugh. But oddly enough, it was. She’d seen him change on a rooftop and take on three vampires, for God’s sake. A man who looked like a bear—who was a bear—was no sweat. Zero perspiration, as Lucy used to say.

She hitched in a breath, found her lungs were working. I can deal with this. I’ve got to deal with this. “Oh.” She searched for something to say. “Yeah. I’d forgotten that bit.”

“Is she all right?” the bear-man asked again.

Zach’s face didn’t change. But she could feel him, in some odd way, willing her to buck up. To help him out. She didn’t know quite what would happen if she said she wasn’t okay, but it probably wasn’t anything nice. “I’m fine.” The words came out confident, if a bit breathless. “It just…a price on my head?” That’s news.

Zach winced slightly. “I’ll explain.” It was merely a breath of sound, and she found herself staring at his lips now. He’d kissed her—never mind that it was just a chaste press of closed lips. If she could handle that, and handle the way he was moving in on her now, his body inching closer and closer into her personal space, she could certainly deal with a man turning into a bear, right? “There’s something going on, Sophie. I’m getting to the bottom of it. Just hang loose, okay?”

He was pleading with her, she realized, and her head felt a little too light suddenly, and full of more cricket noise. “Okay,” her mouth said without her prompting. “But we’re going to have to talk about this.”

“In a little bit. I promise.” His chin dipped a little, that soft curve of hair falling over his eyes, and she suddenly longed to push it away. Wondered what it would feel like.