Chapter 3

Cora fumbled with her package, unable to get it open. The box was long but slim. She finally got the tape off, and set the box down carefully, peeking in past the bubble wrap. A modern protection for an ancient item. Hope coiled inside of her. Maybe this piece would be the one she was looking for. The one that would explain her untold urges, her unfelt desires, the dreamscapes that shot her upright in bed at night, panting and shaking, terrified and exhilarated and unable to remember why. Her life was normal, mind-numbingly so, except for the dreams that left her longing for whatever it was she was missing…

A flash of white. A long, curved tusk, painstakingly carved. A note from Thorn. She held her breath, her eyes crawling over every detail in the shadows of the box. Lynessa should be here, should be seeing this with her, but ‘Nessa was at a conference for two days and Cora couldn’t wait. Her friend had urged her to meet Thorn, even teasing Cora a bit about the interest she would never admit to. Neither of them would call it attraction. Thorn was too… unknown for that. But interest? Intrigue? Hell, yeah.

They’d been buying items through him for years, Cora first, then Lynessa, each in their own field of interest. Cora coveted anything having to do with vampires; Lynessa, anything witch-related, especially Japanese witches. What vampires had to do with her dreams, Cora didn’t know, but every time she opened a box from Thorn she had the same feeling, of being inches away from an answer she just couldn’t grasp. And she never asked Lynessa if she felt the same, too afraid of looking like a freak even with her best friend. Some things you hid from everyone.

She spotted three figures carved into what she knew to be a mammoth tusk. A woman, a man, and an animal, a wolf, must-be. Too big to be a dog. Before she could interpret their postures, her eyes were caught by a word carved below the woman. Swytch. Reading the word silently to herself as switch made her blood heat and her breath catch in her throat. Switch. Yes! It teased memories she didn’t quite have…

She frowned and lifted her head, realizing something was off in the diner. It had been for several moments, but in her excitement to open her package, she hadn’t realized it until just now. There, in a booth across the aisle, she could just see a man wearing what looked to be a forest-green Natahala ranger uniform sitting in a chair. He was leaning forward with intensity, another man behind him, arms folded, staring at someone Cora couldn’t see. The diners near them were all watching the ranger, most trying to pretend they weren’t.

Cora tuned in to their conversation but couldn’t quite hear them. Something about the scene pulled at her, not letting her turn away and pretend it wasn’t happening. She was nosy, although she preferred to think of it as curious, and she could never resist a good drama, not even for what she held in her hands. She closed her box and hugged it to her chest, standing and crossing the aisle to the booth that butted up against the one where all the action was happening. She slid in the booth, ignoring the lone cup of coffee on the table that said it was occupied, cocking an ear to what was going on behind her.

“Now here’s what’s going to happen,” a gruff male voice said. Cora stared at the table, her eyes widening. Ooh, he sounded sexy as hell. Old enough to be mature, but not too old for her. Who was he talking to? He spoke again. “You’re going to pay the bill, and some of my friends are going to come and pick you up. Depending on your answers, you may or may not be heading home tonight. You will never approach this woman again. You’ll erase her number from your phone and forget she or anyone she knows exists. You got that?”

Another man spoke, but Cora ignored him, her thoughts still on the man in the forest ranger uniform who spoke like a cop, with a confident, formal tone and measured words. All of it combined to stir something inside her that hadn’t been stirred in far too long. She imagined what he might look like. Light hair maybe? Or salt and pepper? His voice sounded… she couldn’t tell his age from it. Maybe he was in his forties? It was strong, deep, rumbly, competent. Exactly how you wanted your men to sound. Like they had everything under control. Someone who sounded like that, he didn’t even have to be that handsome. Especially if he had a nice smile. She was a sucker for a mature, confident man who had his life together and a smile she could feel all the way to her toes. Ok, so she’d never quite found one who fit that bill, dating all frogs so far, but she hadn’t given up hope. She could take care of herself, totally, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be the only one in her life forever.

She didn’t know exactly what was going on in the booth behind her but for once she didn’t care about the drama, the gossip. She only wanted to catch a glimpse of the ranger’s face. If he was under fifty and wore no wedding ring, she would approach him when things calmed down, if she could. She clutched her box tighter to her chest and decided to go back to her original table and settle in. She would be able to see what was going on from there, maybe order something, check out her artifact, try not to make a fool out of herself with her eagerness, wait for the ranger to be done with whatever he was dealing with.

Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her purse. A text from her dean. Cora read quickly, her heart sinking.

Prof. out for English 101 in twenty minutes. Can you cover?

Of course she would cover, if she could haul ass fast enough to make it to the college in twenty minutes. Her tenure hearing was in a week. Until then, she’d be getting Dean Aulander’s dry cleaning, if that’s what the woman required. Dean Aulander wasn’t like that, but she did expect her professors to go above and beyond, and Cora wanted tenure in the worst way. Security and staying in the Five Hills area meant everything to her, and she’d put in so many years at the college already she could practically taste the contentment she was certain tenure would bring.

Cora shot to her feet and headed out the door, texting as she went, her artifact pushed to the back of her mind. She purposely did not turn to look at the man with the yummy voice.

She didn’t want to get a glimpse of what she was missing out on.

***

Jameson waved a hand at Greta, hovering around the table. He could see in her expression that she’d figured out most of what was going on and wanted to help. She came close and he pointed out the young lady at the table, whispering a few words in Greta’s ear. Greta nodded and hurried to the young lady, bidding her to come sit in the booth where Jameson had been just minutes ago. The punk didn’t watch her leave, his scared eyes locked on Jameson’s. Good.

Jameson had made his phone call, and all he had to do was wait for a Five Hills officer to show up, then maybe he and Greta would have more business. Did he dare show her the book again?

The scent he’d notice earlier, of fresh flowers and meadows, stirred again and he looked back at his old table, realizing he’d never had a chance to speak to that woman. His heart seized as he saw her hurrying away from the table, willowy petite figure, long curly brown hair, then out the door. Shit! He’d missed her. Could not follow her.

For just a moment, he thought he saw a green flash shoot through the diner and he frowned as an image arose in his mind.

He grabbed a napkin from the table, ignoring the stares of the punk at his front and the shifter at his back as he plucked a pen out of his pocket and hurriedly sketched the picture he’d seen in his head.

When he was done, he pushed the napkin back slightly, turned it, and stared hard at what he’d drawn. He wasn’t artistic, couldn’t normally draw more than a stick figure, but somehow he’d effortlessly captured on paper the image he’d seen with his mind’s eye.

The three claw marks, exactly as they were in his book, and also exactly like they were on the sign over the door of The Bear Claw. But to their left, one additional slash, this one exactly concurrent with the claw marks, but made by a knife. His shading made it look to him like the knife was glowing… or was that his imagination?

He stared hard, the diner evaporating, everything disappearing but his purpose, as he pulled his book out of its case and laid the napkin over the page that had the impression of the logo pressed into it.

The claw marks fit exactly, and to their left, the knife slash would have been exactly in the center of the page…

This was it. What was missing. The sharp intake of breath from the big cat shifter behind him brought the diner careening back.

He’d uncovered something big, finally. Forward progress for the first time in a century, and that young leopard felt it, too.

Tasks stretched out before him, each bringing him closer to the encounter with his kind that he both feared and desired.

But he would do his duty. Always.