“A job offer.” Nodding earnestly, Roy wadded up his napkin and tossed it on top of his empty plate. “Back with Channel Four. National exposure, with an increase in salary over what you used to make.” He named a figure, the number high enough to make Colton blink.
Unfortunately, he had no need of money now.
“Once, I would have jumped at your offer,” Colton began.
“Go for it,” Roy urged. “Live again. Two years have passed, man. You’ve done your mourning. It’s time to move on with your life. You can’t hide out here in the boondocks forever.”
Even thinking of returning to the fast-paced lifestyle he used to live made the food sour in Colton’s stomach. Shaking his head, he stood, dug in his pocket and tossed a twenty on the table. “My treat,” he said, moving away. “Enjoy your new boat.”
Roy gave him a bemused nod, but didn’t try to stop him. No doubt he—and all the rest of Colton’s former co-workers at Channel Four—thought he’d lost his mind.
And, Colton thought ruefully, maybe they were right.
The newspaper offices were officially closed, due to the company picnic he never attended. Colton let himself in, relishing the unusual quiet of the deserted newsroom. The spicy enchiladas he’d managed to choke down earlier now sat like a burning lump of coal in his stomach. As he walked toward his cubicle, he popped a couple of antacids.
The quiet of the newsroom acted like balm on his soul. Despite what Roy might think, Colton genuinely enjoyed his work now. Even before Angela had died, the pressure of his former job had begun to bother him. Now, he still got to do what he loved, though the pace was slower and the pressure nonexistent. The hours and the pay might be a lot less than what he’d been used to, but working at theAnniversary Beaconsuited him just fine. This type of work was in his blood.
He’d come here to see if he could dig up some dirt on Jewel Smith. While he hated his unreasonable obsession with the woman, he sensed she was connected to something that just might be newsworthy. Or so he told himself. Quite honestly, he wished he’d never seen her naked nor felt the eager press of her lips and supple body against his.
Since then, she’d become a craving in his blood, a poison he needed to purge. Maybe once he solved the mystery of who she really was, he could go on with his life, such as it was.
Entering his cubicle, he turned on the light and booted up his computer. Heading to the break room, he made a pot of strong, Cuban coffee even though he knew it wouldn’t help the burning hole in his stomach. What the hell. He wasn’t sleeping much anyway. Between the memories that haunted him and the woman whose face and form obsessed him, he was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t a candidate for a padded room somewhere. The worst part was that a padded room was beginning to sound pretty damn good.
Jewel never knew when the urge would overwhelm her, which was in itself weird since all shifters prided themselves on their excellent control. Each child was taught the secret of controlling the beast within at an early age. She’d never had any problem controlling this before. But then she’d been able to change whenever she’d wanted.
Now, she couldn’t even fall back on history. Her lessons hadn’t included a situation like hers. She didn’t know of any shifters who couldn’t change.
After lunch, Jewel headed to the grocery store to pick up some supplies. The small supermarket was crowded with tourists and locals alike. She grabbed a basket, humming to herself as she stocked up on supplies for her cabin.
Then, in the meat department in the midst of choosing a thick, juicy T-bone, the wolf inside made a desperate lunge for freedom. With a sharp gasp, Jewel fought it.
Falling to her knees, head back in a wordless scream, she thrashed against an invisible enemy. It never was pretty when she tried to subdue her other self.
Other shoppers stared, a small child began shrieking. One or two got out their cell phones and dialed 911.
Somehow, Jewel got herself under control, mentally yanking her inner wolf up by the scruff of the neck and subduing the snarling and frightened beast.
But, as soon as she did, her field of vision grayed, her focus wavering. She blinked rapidly, willing her contacts to help her see. If she passed out here, someone would surely summon paramedics. If they ran a blood test…
She couldn’t let that happen. The law of the Pack forbade it.
Leaving her half-filled shopping cart in the middle of the aisle, she ran from the store in a blind panic.
Ignoring shouts to stop, she slid into her car and fumbled with the key. After two attempts, she finally got it in the ignition, started the car and peeled out of the parking lot as the sound of sirens drew closer.
Though her entire body shook so violently she could scarcely concentrate, she gripped the steering wheel and stared at the road. Adrenaline helped, as did her overwhelming determination to get home. Praying she wouldn’t encounter a cop, she stomped on the accelerator and raced down the curving two-lane road. She only slowed a little as she made the right turn onto her street with her tires screeching.
Heart pounding, body shaking, she stomped on the brake to stop, sending gravel flying. She’d made it! Slamming the car into Park, she snatched the keys from the ignition and pushed open her door.
The ramshackle cabin—now her sanctuary—had never looked so inviting. Still shuddering, she tried to run, stumbling as if she were drugged. After falling once and skinning her knee and palm on the gravel, she continued on. Finally, she reached the doorstep.
Only when she was safely inside, door locked, did she allow herself to collapse on the couch, her breathing ragged, heartbeat erratic. A trickle of warmth made her glance at her knee and she saw she was bleeding.
Inside her, the wolf howled and snarled and began fighting again.
No! Jewel fought back, furious at her traitorous body. She wanted to change, had to change, but knew right now she couldn’t, not without serious injury or worse. The wolf understood none of this, surging to be free.
Somehow, after a violent, inner battle, Jewel subdued her beast.
