Anna Leonard - Shifter's Destiny

“There,” Maggie said, speaking up into the tree. “Hello, little one. Come down here, please?”

He got the feeling that she was speaking out loud for his benefit, not her own, and then all thought fled as a large reddish-brown squirrel jumped down from the branches and scurried across the ground to wait at Maggie’s feet, beady black eyes bright, plump tail fluffed in anticipation, perched on its haunches as though awaiting further instructions.

“Be careful,” he found himself warning her. “It might have rabies, or…”

“It doesn’t,” she said confidently, and bent down to pick the squirrel up. It not only allowed her to handle it, but the rodent also ducked its head under her hand as though anticipating a caress. He would have sworn it was a domesticated pet, except that there was no way…

“All right, Maggie,” her sister said. She sounded tired, still worried, but amused at the same time. “You’ve proven your point. Now put greykins down—you know full well that even the gentle ones carry germs and ticks, and all sorts of things that you can’t protect yourself from.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie said, and let the squirrel go. It paused, as though disappointed, and then its natural caution resumed and it scampered up the nearest tree, an outraged chittering floating down back to them.

“It didn’t like being summoned,” he said dryly, his mood made worse, not better, by proof of her claims. He had been yanked off his course by a teenager’s whim?

“Oh, it’s just cranky,” Maggie said airily. “Squirrels are always cranky. Are you? I’m sorry, I really am. I just never thought the animals minded so much, being summoned—they never seem to object.” Her expression changed as she suddenly considered that they might, indeed, object.

“I’m not an animal.” Was he annoyed? Josh thought that he might be, now that he’d had proof shoved in his face; this slip of a girl had managed to pull him away from his own agenda, tangling him up in whatever was going on with her and her sister without so much as a by-your-leave or pretty-please.

Still. Remembering the man who had been threatening them, the cruel grip on the woman’s hair, the way the other man had twisted Maggie’s arms… he couldn’t regret coming to their aid, no matter how he had ended up there.

But it ended now. They were safe, and he had his own plans to follow through on. Plans that carried their own urgency.

“Maggie.” The older girl, Libby, sat on a fallen tree trunk and shook her head at her sister in dismay. “You’re hopeless.”

Despite his annoyance, there was something about the older girl that intrigued him even more than her unusual sister. He eyed her carefully. Tall and lean, he had noted that already. Striking more than pretty. Lovely long dark hair past her shoulders, loosed from the ponytail, and now tangled with leaves and twigs like a dryad. Wide dark brown eyes and dusky skin, a full mouth and a proud Roman nose that was somehow more enchanting than any upturned pug or cute button could ever be. His gaze traveled lower. Her long-sleeved T-shirt didn’t disguise a rounded chest, neither too large nor too small but just about right for cupping in his hands, and a long waist that tapered to hips his fingers itched to span. And those legs, stretched out in front of her…

He’d already felt how those legs felt, wrapped around him, her lower half molding to his as they moved. He’d had people—other women—on his back before, but they had mostly been his own herd, cousins and second cousins, the occasional human who knew their secret already. Never a stranger. Never a stranger with eyes that heated his imagination as much as his body.

“I don’t suppose you’re a virgin?” he asked suddenly.

Her jaw fell open, and a blush stained her cheeks, visible even in the morning light. “No.”

She was quite certain about that and he shrugged inwardly. Oh, well. It had been a long shot, anyway.

“And you said I was rude?” Maggie asked, her eyes wide with astonishment.

He didn’t explain why he had asked, but scowled at them again. “So why were those men after you, anyway?” He didn’t care, really. But it was a way to put them on the defensive, rather than mocking him, or asking questions.

Libby stared at him, her scowl not quite a match for his own, but close. “We appreciate your assistance,” she said, not answering the question, “but we need to be on our way now.” Her tone was frostily polite, a verbal slap. “I don’t suppose you could point us in the direction of the nearest police station? Then you can find your horse and be on your way.”

Apparently, she was less convinced than her sister of his dual nature, or just determined to be contrary. Josh wasn’t sure if he should be relieved or annoyed. Not that he went around announcing himself to strangers—to anyone—but he didn’t like being doubted, either.

But this gave him the perfect excuse to leave. Why then, suddenly, did he not want to?

“Libby, I told you!” Maggie looked as though she was about to stomp her foot on the ground, very much like a frustrated yearling.

“Hush, child,” he said. “Your sister is quite right, you two need to be on your way, before your hunters come back. I’ll finish the job my… horse started, and get you out of the woods. But after that you’re on your own, understand?” He looked at Maggie as he said that, and she nodded once in understanding. There would be no more summoning of him, however she had actually done it.

Did he believe that she could call animals, control them? Even if he denied that she had influenced him at all—he still wasn’t comfortable with the idea—he had seen a sample for himself, and… really, who was he to question other people’s oddities? The Mustang family was nothing more than legend and fairy tale to most folk, but he was quite real. A girl who could talk to the animals was commonplace, compared to his bloodline.

“There’s a stream down that way—” He jerked his chin toward the slope. “You might want to wash up there, make yourself a little more presentable.” Unable to stop himself, he reached out and plucked a twig from Libby’s tangle of hair, holding it up in front of her face as evidence. “A comb or brush wouldn’t hurt, either, if you have one.”

She pursed her mouth as though about to say something, then shook her head and sighed, reaching down to pick up her backpack, a rugged olive-drab thing scuffed enough that it might have seen actual military service at some point. Maggie giggled, for the first time sounding like a girl her age, and picked up her own knapsack, a bright blue one that looked like it should be holding schoolbooks and lunch, not… whatever she had crammed in there. A toothbrush, he hoped.

He needed to reclaim his own pack, stashed in a tree when he had shifted to go to their rescue. Thankfully, clothing on his two-legged form merged into four-legged hide somehow, but the things they carried, even in pockets, the magic did not recognize. Even his wallet and spare change had to stay in his pack at all times, or risk being magicked out of existence. He was used to improvising, after a shift. He ran a tongue thoughtfully across his teeth, and grimaced. He really wished he had his toothbrush with him right now, though.

Libby took her sister’s hand and led her through the circle of trees. He couldn’t see them anymore but he could hear them—and scent them. If they ran into trouble, he could be there in an instant.

Not that he was still protecting them. Damn it.

“He’s cute.”

“Maggie, go dunk your head.”

The stream wasn’t deep enough to actually bathe in, and the water was cold enough to feel sharp against her skin, but Elizabeth washed her face and rinsed her mouth, rummaging in her bag for the travel kit she had shoved in there the day before. “And don’t forget to brush your teeth.”