Sheryl Nantus - Battle Scars

I chuckled. “I’m fine, I’m fine. Just a dream.”

“Okay. Just a dream.” He didn’t sound convinced. “So what happened after I left? Anything interesting?”

“Nah, nothing much.” I smiled, willing my heartbeat to slow. “Evan challenged his mother, won, and took over as leader of his family. He asked Jake Middleston for a truce and for the right to date his daughter. Feud’s over and our lovebirds are together.”

Bran let out a low whistle. “Wow. Didn’t expect that.”

“Neither did I. And Red seems to be fascinated with Jess.”

“Oh, no.” He shook his head. “I am not going to be in bed with you and have that image in my mind. No, no, no.” Another enthusiastic shake. “I’m sort of sorry I missed all the fun.”

I stroked the fresh wounds, remembering why he’d missed all the fun.

Angie.

“She’s gone,” Bran said as if reading my mind. “We went to the shelter so she could check that it was locked up and then I her home. That’s why it took me so long to get back here.” One edge of his mouth tipped up in a smile. “Seems there’s good money in helping the homeless. She’s got a nice spot at Yonge and Lawrence, renting a semi-detached house that costs easily a grand a month. A long way from sleeping in the park and scrounging for food.”

I blinked, feeling the tears begin running down my cheeks.

Bran kissed me. “What? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, not sure where to start or even if I could explain the confusion running through my mind.

Bran sat up again, rubbing his arms where I’d scratched him. “It’s Angie, isn’t it?”

I nodded.

“She’s gone for good.” Bran licked his dry lips. “I won’t lie and tell you she didn’t make an offer to me regarding carnal knowledge of her body. I put it down to emotional distress at first, giving her an easy out.” He paused. “She declined the opportunity and tried to press her advantage, having me all to herself without you around to claw her eyes out.” His cheeks puffed out as he crossed his eyes.

I sniffled my way through a chuckle at his expression.

“But I pointed out, and quite firmly I might add, that I had someone waiting for me at home. Someone I loved and cared about.” He kissed away a tear. “Silly little Felis.”

I snorted, trying to regain my composure. “Not silly or little.”

“Hmm.” Bran shifted his hips, rocking forward with a snarky grin. “Me neither.” He looked from side to side. “Who brought you home?”

“Jess.”

“You didn’t ask her to stay for tea?”

“No.” I took a deep breath, inhaling his natural musk and wallowing in it. “She’s got things to do, people to terrorize.” I paused before asking the million dollar question. “Will Angie keep quiet?”

“I told her it was some sort of family feud—that much wasn’t a lie. She won’t go to the cops, she’s still wary of law enforcement from her time on the streets. And she never saw anyone Changed so that’s not a problem and no one reported her as missing.”

I frowned. “No one?”

A bit of a smirk emerged as he continued. “McCallister grabbed her without anyone noticing. Her staff figured she went off on an errand without telling them and then went home or out. I also pointed out it wouldn’t look good for her charity to get bad press about harboring runaways involved in gang fights and so forth, so keeping quiet about the past few days would be a very good decision.” He bent down and licked away a wet streak on my cheek. “She’s got nothing to say and that’s the last of it. I don’t plan to see her again.”

“Ever?” There was more of a lilt in my voice than I’d planned.

“Ever,” he said. “She’s doing quite well for herself and I don’t think there’s anything to be gained by dwelling on the past.”

“Good.” I gulped.

He studied my face. His forehead furrowed with a mixture of concern and worry. “Did you think I’d choose her over you?”

“No.”

Bran touched my chin with one finger. “Liar. Now tell me why you thought I’d walk out on you.”

I gulped. “You’ve got it easy with her. She’s human and I’m Felis and we’re so damned complicated and you have to keep fighting for every inch of respect and I’m so much trouble—” I broke off, at a loss for words.

“I won’t say that being with you isn’t a hell of a lot of hard work.” He tapped the tip of my nose. “And yes, I get tired of having to prove myself every time we meet family. But it’s no worse than having a human girlfriend with her in-laws, brothers and sisters and pissy girlfriends and ex-boyfriends who’d want to take me on.” He rolled over to lie beside me, taking my left hand in his right. “But I understand why you’d feel that way.”

I turned my head to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.” His free hand pulled up his shirt, showing the fading scars. “I didn’t get these for loving her. I got them for loving you.” He tugged on my fingers. “Only you.”

“Okay.” It was all I could say without dissolving into a puddle of tears.

“Now.” Bran pulled me to my side with a devilish grin. “Let me say it again without words. But still using my tongue.”

I awoke to hear Jazz hissing in my ear.

In all the years I’d had Jazz as a roommate I’d never heard her hiss. Yawn, fart and trill—yes.

Never hiss.

She screamed again and launched herself into the air at something, someone standing at the bottom of the bed, the shadowy silhouette a fuzzy imprint on my mind. Stunned and still half-asleep from our lovemaking, I didn’t understand what was going on until Bran leaped from the bed with a yell.

The thick masculine smell stung my nostrils as I rolled to the side and hit the floor, dropping the sheets and now as naked as the day I was born.

Nathan McCallister.

Changed and flailing around, fangs bared and screeching as he clawed at the cat attached to his shoulder.

Jazz yowled and dug her nails farther into the right side of his face, a white-hot furball of fury.

She screeched again as McCallister pulled her free and tossed her at the wall. She smashed into the pale green drywall and slid down to the floor.

Jazz didn’t move.

Bran launched himself at the Felis enforcer, the brief delay from her attack giving him a momentary advantage. He sidestepped McCallister’s weak swing and laid down a series of jabs into the man’s right side, slamming his fist into the dark sweater like a jackhammer.

I jumped across the edge of the bed at McCallister’s left, snarling as I smashed my right hand into his face.

With claws.

Unbidden, they’d sprung out and now ripped at his already-scratched skin, slicing across his face from right to left, across his nose and barely missing his eyes.

It wasn’t for a lack of targeting.

He roared and moved back a step into the doorway, giving ground. Jazz’s attack had given us the edge but if we flinched or fell back we could still lose.

McCallister was a Felis, an enforcer trained to fight.

We weren’t.

McCallister screamed again and swung his left hand upward, his claws narrowly missing Bran’s vital parts. The sharp edges scored Bran’s torso, dragging upwards toward his face.

Bran leaped back as I moved in, following up my facial attack with a jab at McCallister’s belly.

My claws caught on the thin black T-shirt he wore, tugging on the fabric before coming free—just long enough to let McCallister counterattack with his right.

His claws skidded across my ribs, breaking the skin. I gasped at the pain. It hurt like a son of a bitch but at least he hadn’t disemboweled me.