Jessica Sims - Wanted - Wild Thing

Claws flashed and I heard a growl, then there was a gigantic spark and a shatter of glass.

The lights flickered.

Everything went silent.

I stood up, staring at the remains of the coffeepot, which had been neatly sliced in half by Hugh’s claws. He was standing over the broken pieces, big shoulders heaving, fangs bared, looking as if he was about to attack.

As I watched, another spark flew from the coffeepot, and Hugh raised an enormous, clawed hand.

“Wait,” I yelped, charging forward. “Don’t touch anything else. You’ll get electrocuted. Just stay right there.” I raced for the back room, flipping the circuit breakers to turn off the power in the office. Once that was done, I sprinted back into the main room . . .

And stopped. Hugh’s eyes were glowing an eerily bright green, brighter than anything I’d ever seen. Creepy. I had to ignore that, though. I pushed past him and yanked the plug from the now very dead coffeepot, then returned to the back room and flipped the breakers on again, hoping that we hadn’t scared the life out of Savannah.

I returned to the office as she emerged from the bathroom, a paper towel pressed to her mouth, her eyes wide with alarm. “Everything okay?”

“Just fine,” I assured her. “Hugh here has an itchy trigger finger, and the coffeepot startled him.” I went to a closet for the broom and dustpan, then held them out to Hugh. “And now that he broke it, he’s going to clean it up.”

Hugh bared his teeth at me in a snarl. Dear God, they were big; his canines practically looked like tusks.

I refused to be intimidated, though. He wasn’t going to hurt me; he had to protect me. According to his boss, I was worth more alive than dead, so I gave him a sweet smile and pushed the broom and dustpan into his hands.

As he glared at me, I patted his arm. “Now, please clean up your mess while I see to Savannah.” I stepped past him and turned to Savannah. “You okay, sweetie?”

She blinked slowly, leaning against the door frame of the bathroom. Her gaze went to Hugh, then me. “What happened?”

“Just an accident,” I said in a sunny voice. I moved to Savannah’s desk chair and pulled it out for her. “Come sit down. You don’t look so good.”

She dropped heavily into her chair, pulled out a bottle of water, and sipped delicately.

“You need some crackers or toast or something?”

“I had that earlier,” she said in a whisper-soft voice and took another sip of water. “It didn’t help.”

I brushed her sweaty brown hair off her forehead. “How about some nice hot tea?”

“That might help. Maybe with some lemon. Except . . . our coffeepot is dead.” She looked over my shoulder, her brows drawing together.

I glanced over, too, and saw Hugh standing there, still holding the broom and dustpan and giving them a ferocious frown, the mess of the broken coffeepot still at his feet.

His bare feet, I just now noticed. They were clawed, as well. Oh, dear.

Savannah looked over at me, then picked up a pencil and a notepad. She wrote something down, then nudged the pad toward me.

What is he?

Savannah was a were-cougar and a member of the Russell family, who spearheaded the Alliance. She was familiar with weres of all kinds—even the more unusual supernaturals, like harpies and satyrs and sirens. There was no doubt that Hugh was supernatural—anyone could tell that with one look at him—but the question was . . . what?

I didn’t know either, but I intended to get some answers.

Deliberately misunderstanding her question, I quickly wrote down Customer? “Well, since our coffeepot is dead, I’ll head to the coffee shop for your tea. Hugh, why don’t you come with me? You can finish cleaning that up once we get back.”

“Oh, no, you don’t have to go,” Savannah protested. It was clear from her alarmed look that she didn’t want me going out with Hugh alone. “I’m fine.” She gave a hard little swallow midsentence, but she kept her brave face.

“Nonsense,” I told her. “We’ll be back shortly. Leave that mess for us, and if you need to go be sick, just put on the answering machine.” I bounded over to my desk to get my Hello Kitty purse. “Come on, Hugh.”

I held the door open, staring pointedly at his scowling face. After a moment, he headed out.

One hurdle down. I followed, telling Hugh, “That’s my car.” I pointed at the baby blue hatchback that I’d put kitty ears and whiskers on, and gestured for him to take the passenger side.

He simply stared at me, then at the car. Then back at me.

Sure, everyone mocked the cat-mobile, but it made me smile to see it, so I didn’t care. “Just get in, already.” I pulled open my door and slid into the driver’s seat.

It was only after I got into the car that Hugh opened his door very slowly and examined it, then folded his immense body into the passenger seat. His knees pressed hard against the dashboard, and his shoulders hunched as he tried to squeeze himself in, the door hanging open on his side. He looked so comical that I giggled despite myself.

“I do not fit,” he said sourly, shifting in his seat.

“Just extend the seat backward,” I told him. “You’ll have room.”

He gave me an uncomprehending look.

I reached between his legs to grab the seat release, and Hugh jerked in response, his hand gripping my arm.

Immediately, that hot, snakey coil of excitement thrummed through my body, and I felt my monster jerk awake. I sucked in a breath and shook his hand off, recoiling backward. “Don’t touch me,” I whispered.

He looked just as scandalized as I was, his hand clenching into a fist. “I . . . apologize. I thought . . .”

I could guess what he thought I was reaching for. “It’s okay,” I said, flicking my hand rapidly to try and shake myself back to normal. “Just . . . get the seat release yourself.”

The look on his too-savage face was puzzled.

“And you can shut your door, too,” I pointed out helpfully. “And put on your seat belt.”

Hugh’s cat-eyes narrowed at me. “I do not know these things you speak of.”

It was my turn to frown as I shoved the keys into the ignition. The car chimed helpfully, reminding me that the door was open and not all passengers were buckled in.

Hugh startled again, eyes going wide as he tried to decipher the sounds.

Okay, this . . . was odd. “Haven’t you ever been in a car before?”

He shook his head slowly, then leaned forward, as if puzzled by the sound of the chiming. Then he leaned back and grunted, shifting in his seat, knees still pressed to the dashboard, big body squeezed like an accordion.

“They must not have cars in the fae realm,” I grumbled. Well, that would explain Hugh’s odd choice of clothing, I supposed. Maybe they were all medieval there or something. I glanced back into the office and saw Savannah watching us through the windows. “Okay. We need to get going. For starters, pull the lever under your seat to release it. That will move it backward and give you more room.”

He did so, and when the seat slid backward a foot, he immediately looked relieved. His knees were still pressed to the dash, but he no longer looked as if he was in pain.

“Now shut the door,” I instructed him, then proceeded to show him the seat belts. Then, once everything was buckled and inside the car, I turned it on.

Eyes going wild, he immediately clenched the dashboard, and a low growl began in his throat.

“It’s fine,” I reassured him. “It’s mechanical. We turn it on and it goes.” And to show him, I reversed out of the parking space and pulled forward through the parking lot. “You okay?”

“I am well,” he gritted between his teeth.