Chapter 27
JESS
"I'm going hunting today," Cade said early one morning a few weeks later. I was still in bed, not fully awake, my mind hazy with fantasy. I was reliving the previous night's lovemaking. Our naked limbs entwined, flesh hot, eager and tireless. His husky voice whispering sensual commands; my excitement as I complied.
"Want to come?" he asked.
"Mmm, yes, I want to come," I laughed.
He was standing there beside the bed, grinning down at me. There was a familiar glint in his blue eyes that spoke of pleasure and promises. "Hunting," he said again, more loudly. "Don't try to tempt me into anything else, you witchy woman.”
“Hunting in your wolf form?”
“No. I'm taking my gun and my dog and going pheasant hunting.” He jerked the curtains away from the windows, making me groan because the sky was still dark, with only the faintest glimmering of dawn showing. "Come on, gorgeous. Rise and shine. You’re coming with me.”
I woke up at that. Was he really calling in the Truth or Dare debt? I snuck a look at his face. Yup. He was serious.
Okay, fine. He hadn’t violated his side of the agreement. No more questions about why I wouldn’t shift, although I knew he was still curious. It seemed that when he made a deal, he kept it.
He’d been treating me a lot better than I’d expected when I agreed to this fake marriage. I’d thought nothing would happen between us but some incendiary sex, and that at the end of our six months, we’d probably both have had our fill of that. But somehow or other, I’d started to care about him.
I wanted to do something nice for him that didn’t involve my tongue or my pussy muscles. I guess it wouldn’t kill me to show some interest in his damn hobby.
"Surely even the pheasants aren't awake yet," I struggled to stand, reaching for the warm flannel robe that was hanging from the bedpost.
"Lazy-bones,” he teased me.
“I’m only coming because we have nothing for dinner. This is strictly only kill what we intend to eat, right?”
“Absolutely. I'll get breakfast ready while you dress. Wear plenty of layers. It's a cold sport."
Climbing into the Jeep with him a little while later, I hoped this wasn’t going to be a big mistake. The hunting season was in full swing; every day I could hear shotguns booming in the distance.
Cade had already hunted a couple of times with his friends, coming home with game he’d cleaned and cooked. He was a good cook, and I’d had to admit that I’d enjoyed the fresh, juicy flesh. I knew he was a responsible hunter and that he’d been raised to love the chase. My objections to hunting rose from a different place than Cade even knew. It wasn't as if I was a vegetarian or an animal rights activist.
So I wasn't of a mind to quarrel with him about hunting. Or about anything.
Something was happening between us. I guess we were compatible. With the collapse of the physical barriers, some sort of subtle emotional bonding had been taking place.
Was it due to the sevmelle? Were we truly mated souls? I would have liked to believe it, but I couldn't quite. Cade still hadn't seen all of me.
I was still a bit worried about the death-by-shifter of some unknown motorcycle club member, even though it seemed unlikely that the crime had had anything to do with me. I would have felt much better if only I could remember what I’d done that night.
But all that had come back to me were the dark shadows of the woods and the bright gleaming of the stars overhead. The smells of dying leaves and growing mushrooms and the goldenrod in the meadows…autumn setting in.
My vivid imagination kept envisioning the murder—the blood, the tearing of claws and the snapping of powerful jaws. When I forbade myself to think about it, the images moved into my dreams. Cade had held me and comforted me on several occasions when I’d awakened, sobbing and trembling, my pulse a-thunder, my skin slick with sweat.
At night, I made sure to wear the Choker when we were in bed together. I didn't like sleeping in it because it was tight and heavy, but my fear of waking up outside, dark wings unfurled and my husband staring at me in horror were enough for me to insist that he leave it on until morning.
Although I’d told him its purpose, he still thought it was a sex thing—a fetish of mine. He liked that idea and he capitalized on it. He made wearing the collar exciting and fun.
"We're not hunting in the forest?" I asked when Cade parked the Jeep on the shoulder of a dirt road that led toward a large, open meadow. Two other vehicles were already parked there.
"Not for pheasants," he reminded me as we clambered out to unload the truck. Barney leaped about inside, eager and excited, whining to get out.
"If I were hunting ruffed grouse, which I love to do, I'd seek them in a hardwood forest with hilly terrain. I'd take my 20-gauge Parker for that. But for pheasant hunting I've brought this 12-gauge, double-barreled Winchester." He removed his shotgun from its case as he spoke, handling it gently, with reverence.
I rolled my eyes. Men and their guns.