Addy Spencer stared at the neatly typed letter and felt her stomach drop to her toes.
…The members of one of the bands we represent, The Four Saints, are very much interested in recording and performing the song you sent—or any other material you might have—and would like to begin negotiations for the rights to do so, if that would be agreeable to you. I can be reached at the address and telephone above, or, if you prefer, we could set up a face-to-face meeting, either here in Nashville or at a place of your choosing.
Thank you for submitting your song to us. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely,
Melinda Darling
Konstantine Talent Agency
Nashville, Tennessee
“I can’t believe you sent them my song, Granny,” Addy said, fighting to keep her voice calm, though she could not stop the tremor in it. “Why would you do that?”
“Because you’ve been hiding your God-given talent under a bushel for far too many years, darlin,’ and it’s time for you to come out and sing to the world.”
Addy turned abruptly to face her grandmother, who stood at the kitchen table, steadily kneading a mound of fragrant bread dough with her small, strong hands.
“But…”
“I’m not gettin’ any younger, Addy, and I can’t stand the thought of you holed up here in the hills all by yourself for the rest of your life.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Addy said. “It’ll be a long time before I’m havin’ to live alone up here. And anyhow, I like bein’ alone.”
Granny Spencer sighed, because she knew the latter to be true. “I’m almost eighty-four years old, Adelaide Ann, and you know as well as I do that the only guarantee we have in this life is it’s gonna end, sooner or later. And bein’ alone ain’t the way we’re meant to live, girl.
“You know that, too,” she added for good measure as she patted the mound of dough and turned it back into a greased bowl for its second rising. Granny then draped a clean towel over the bowl and set it on top of the warm stove.
“I can’t do this, Granny,” Addy said, tears in her voice now, as she held the scrunched letter up in her fisted hand. “You know I can’t.”
Granny sighed, wiped her hands on another towel then crossed the small room to reach out and take hold of Addy’s shoulders.
“I know you think you cain’t,” the old lady said, her voice kind but firm. “But Addy, darlin’, how you gonna ever know for certain, iffen you don’t at least try?”
Addy dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms around her grandmother’s waist, hugging her close as she had since she was a little girl. Addy had shot up to be a good head taller than her elderly grandmother during her teen years, and she’d been bigger and stronger than the old lady for the past decade, but she felt small at this moment, and her beloved granny hugged her back.
“I know you’re scared, darlin’,” she murmured, petting Addy’s thick, soft, sandy-blond hair. Addy had cut it herself again, and it was a shaggy mess, but she couldn’t make herself sit still long enough for Granny to cut it for her.
When Granny pulled back and lifted Addy’s face to hers, her light green eyes met Addy’s deep golden ones, and Addy felt her grandmother’s frustration.
“Fate wasn’t kind when it took your ma and daddy away,” she whispered. “You weren’t even old enough for them to know what you’d become, and your daddy never had the chance to teach you what you needed to know.”
“Whenever I’m around strangers, I’m so afraid, Granny,” Addy whispered. “It seems like it’s only a matter of when, not if, this thing happens to me. I can’t control it. I can’t even predict it. How am I supposed to go to Nashville, if I can’t even be certain I’ll be me when I get there?”
Granny sighed and pulled Addy to her once more. “I cain’t answer that, child,” she said. “I just know somethin’s gotta change, or you’re gonna just shrivel up and die all alone, and I just cain’t stand the thought of that happenin’ to my precious grandbaby.”
They stood that way for a long moment, before Granny finally released her again.
“Just promise me you’ll think about it. All right?”
Addy sighed. “All right. I promise. I’ll think about it.”
Granny smiled and gave her a quick kiss on her brow before turning back to the kitchen.
“I need to get the soup on, iffen we’re gonna have it today. Why don’t you fetch your guitar and sing to me while I chop the veggies?”
“I ought to help you chop the veggies, Granny.”
“Nah. I can still chop just fine. And I do love to hear your music.”
Addy sighed and headed for her room. Their log cabin was small by any standards, with one great room, that included the kitchen and living area, two tiny bedrooms, and a miniscule bath. When her parents had been alive, they had used the bedroom she used now. If they had not lost their lives in a freak accident—the mountain road they’d been traveling on had collapsed following heavy rains, sending their car to the bottom of a deep ravine—then Addy would have been living in the loft over the kitchen. From what Granny had told her, there had been talk of a new addition in the event of more children, but Addy hadn’t been quite two when her parents had died, so there had been no need for more space.
The sun was streaming in through her window when she stepped into her bedroom. She loved sleeping on the eastern side of the house, so the sun could greet her when she awakened in the morning. As autumn deepened, she found herself rising before the sun, just as Granny did. They invariably shared their morning cup of tea in near darkness, out on the front porch in good weather, or sitting near the kitchen stove, as the kindling caught flame and crackled a cheerful greeting when it was cold outside.
She reached for her guitar, which rested in its old, battered case in one corner of the crowded room. Her twin-size bed was neatly made, covered in one of Granny’s colorful quilts. A teddy bear she’d had since birth sat proudly in front of the pillow. Her small desk was littered with sheet music and scraps of paper holding promising scraps of song lyrics. Surrounding the small desk were bookshelves loaded with volumes on everything from Plato’s philosophy to Appalachian wildlife. Most of them had belonged to her parents before her, and she had read every one of them at least once.
Setting the guitar on the bed, she opened the case and reached for her best friend. The Gibson had belonged to her grandfather, Granny’s husband, who had gotten it from his father, who had accepted it in trade for some labor he had provided for a man in town in the early 1930s. Even scratched and worn as the finish was, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned, and her greatest joy was losing herself in the music it produced.
Addy had been home-schooled, because by the time she was five, things had gotten to the point at which she couldn’t safely mix with other people at all. Her family’s books had provided her with plenty of reading material, though, and Granny had proved to be an excellent teacher. When she’d been fifteen, Addy had managed to take and pass her GED exams at the local library, which had gotten the state off their backs about Addy not attending public school. Nine years later, she knew Granny was right: As much as Addy hated to even think about it, she was going to have to figure out what her future was going to be. Loving the farm wasn’t enough. Yes, she could manage to feed herself, but there were times when one woman couldn’t do for herself. She and Granny managed together, because Granny could call on the extended family for help, if they needed a strong back.
Would they come if I asked them to?
Addy frowned. When Granny died, their extended family—most of whom had never hesitated to treat Addy as an oddity at best and a complete freak at worst—would nevertheless probably insist she come live and work on one of their farms, leaving this one to be swallowed up by the woods. She hated the thought of Granny’s farm dying that way, but she wouldn’t have the money to keep it up, unless…
Addy looked over at the crumpled letter she had dropped in the middle of her desk, and sighed. Sinking to the edge of the bed, she began tuning her guitar. Someone wanted to buy one of her songs. She couldn’t imagine it, but if they did, what might that mean for her income? She hated the thought of actually selling her songs—it was too much like selling a part of herself—but maybe, if the band really appreciated them, maybe then it would be okay?
Shaking her head in annoyance at her own indecision, Addy left the letter where it sat, and taking up her guitar, headed for the front room, muttering to herself. She had reread Gone with the Wind recently, and Margaret Mitchell’s Scarlet O’Hara had it right. “‘I can’t think about that right now. If I do, I’ll go crazy. I’ll think about that tomorrow.’”
Addy settled on the small couch, leaning back and allowing her fingers to wander over the strings of her beloved guitar. She was self-taught, having used an old chord chart she had found in the guitar case to get her started. Later she’d found chords of her own, the actual names of which she didn’t know, but they worked with her melodies. As she played, she began to relax, and soon the agency’s letter and any thoughts of the future were swept away in the music.
* * *
Overnight temperatures had left frost on the ground, and Addy welcomed the fresh, crisp fall air into her lungs as she stepped out of the chicken coop early the next morning. The chickens had been in fine form, and there would be enough eggs to take some to the market. She was glad, because she had spied a used rhyming dictionary at the thrift shop earlier in the week, and she would now be able to buy it, if no one else had snatched it up. She scanned the hills and marveled, as she always did, at the beauty of the countryside. The drop in nighttime temperatures had begun to paint the forestland in a wash of yellow and red.
The sound of a car making its way up their long drive brought her attention back to the present. Addy moved quickly to take the eggs into the cabin as a mid-sized SUV drove into the clearing.
“Granny, someone’s here,” she called out.
“I hear ’em,” Granny said, coming in from her bedroom, where she had been sorting linens. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know,” Addy said, setting her basket on the counter and reaching into a cabinet for the cardboard egg cartons the market provided for their eggs. She would wash the eggs and let Granny take care of whoever had come to call.
“Aren’t you even interested?” Granny asked, reaching for her shawl.
“No.”
Granny shook her head and muttering, went to see who it might be.
“Good morning, ma’am,” the stranger said when Granny opened the door.
“Well, good morning, young man,” Granny replied.
Addy thought she detected approval in her grandmother’s voice and braced herself, knowing the polite “young man” would be asked in for tea.
“Is this the Spencer place?” he asked.
“It is. May I ask who’d like to know?”
“The name’s Saint, ma’am,” the stranger said. “Mark Saint. I’m here about a letter sent to you by Melinda Darlin’ concernin’ a song?”
At least Granny sighed before she opened the door wider in invitation. “Of course you are. Come on in.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Addy paused then carefully placed the egg she’d just washed and dried into the waiting carton. She turned to the newcomer—it would have been unforgivably rude not to—but she was careful to keep back in the shadows of the kitchen.
“This is my granddaughter, Adelaide,” Granny said, moving toward the kitchen. “Can we interest you in a cup of tea, Mr. Saint?”
“Thank you kindly, ma’am. I would enjoy that.”
“Where did you come from this morning, Mr. Saint?” Granny asked, reaching for the tea kettle, which was already simmering on the stove. “Good, heavens, you didn’t drive all the way from Nashville this mornin’, did you?” she added, with a quick glance over her shoulder.
“Oh, no, ma’am. I drove across state yesterday and stayed with my folks last night.”
“So you don’t live around here, then?”
“Well, we—my brothers and me—we have a place in Nashville, now, but the family still lives up in Clayton Hollow. That’s near Thorn Hill.”
“I know of it. You still have some family in these parts, then.”
“Well, you could say that, ma’am,” he said, grinning. “Our pa was one of ten and our ma one of eight, so I’d guess that qualifies as ‘some.”’
Granny laughed and gestured toward the kitchen table where the man took a seat. Addy could only stand and stare, frozen in place by the man’s appearance. He was tall—well over six feet—and as broad-shouldered as some of the lumberjacks she’d seen pass through the village. His jeans were worn, as were his flannel shirt and boots, but he was clean and didn’t look at all sloppy. His hair, trimmed neatly short, was the color of the old mink stole Granny kept in her hope chest, and it gleamed where the sunlight touched it through the window. His voice was low-pitched and smooth. She imagined it turned heads when he sang.
“As I’m sure you must have guessed, Mr. Saint,” Granny said, adding boiling water to the tea pot and dunking the tea ball into it, “Addy is the one who wrote the song. I’m just the one who sent it.”
“Well, ma’am, I’m certainly glad you did. It’s a beautiful song, and we’d sure like to record it.
“And would you want a woman to sing it?” Granny asked, placing a mug for him on the table and filling it.
“Granny…” Addy said.
“It sure does seem to call for one, doesn’t it?” Mark said. “That’s one of the things I’d like to talk to your granddaughter about.”
He looked up from his tea mug, and his eyes met Addy’s. She couldn’t quite suppress a gasp, for his were the same deep golden color she saw whenever she looked in the mirror.
“What do you say, Ms. Spencer?” Mark asked softly. “Would you be willin’ to sell us the rights to perform your song? And might you be willin’ to sing it with us? It sure does speak from the heart about this place.” He gestured broadly. “Makes it just the kind of song we like to perform.
“And in case you’re wonderin’,” he added, “The Four Saints don’t go for any of that glitter and bright lights, pyrotechnics and smoke crap—beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. We sing about home and family, love and life. We stick with acoustical instruments only—I play the same bass fiddle my great uncle used to play—and we don’t amplify any more than we have to. We like small gigs and small recording studios, none of the big time concert venues or high tech bells and whistles.
“So, iffen you’d be interested, I’d sure like to take you to Nashville and introduce you to my brothers.”
“You want to take Addy with you now?” Granny asked, shocked into interrupting.
“Oh, no, ma’am,” he assured her. “It’s a long drive to Nashville, so we’d have to leave early in the mornin’. And I can wait a couple of days, though I should be back in Nashville by sometime on Thursday, if that’d work for you. You’ll probably want to talk to Mel on the phone before we leave, too, just to set your mind at ease.”
“Mel?” Granny asked when Addy remained mute.
“Melinda Darlin’,” he said. “She’s our agent at the Konstantine Talent Agency, though truth be told, she a lot more to us, too. See, Mel’s gonna marry my older brother, Matt, in the spring, so she’s pretty special to all of us. Anyhow, she’s got an apartment with a guest room, and she said to tell you she’d be glad to have you stay with her while you’re in Nashville, so you don’t have to worry about a hotel or bein’ alone.”
The last he said to Addy, his expression expectant. Addy still couldn’t move. She felt a panic attack coming on along with the first twinges of what she feared most.
“Addy, darlin’?”
Granny’s soft enquiry broke Addy free from the spell Mark had put her under, and she shook her head.
“I can’t.”
“Sweatheart...”
“No! I can’t!”
Addy lunged for the door and in seconds she was running as fast as she could across the yard and up into the forest beyond. She thought she heard the man calling to her, but she didn’t look back. As she ran on, the incline got steeper, and her lungs began to burn with the effort to climb. In moments she felt the beginnings of the change that frightened her so much. Soon her legs were reshaping, their muscles and sinews, taking on a new form. As she scrabbled for purchase in the undergrowth, her arms lengthened and her fingers became claws, and soon she was running on all fours, her ears pointed forward, her nose scenting the air, her whiskers sending back signals as she crashed through the underbrush. The mountain lion she had become gobbled up the distance with little effort.
When she reached the giant sugar maple overlooking a wide expanse of meadow, she dropped down into the shade, panting. This was her favorite spot, her favorite tree anywhere on her family’s hundreds of acres of mountainside forest. The cold night had turned the leaves on the outside of the tree to a brilliant yellow, while the inside branches still showed some green. The stark contrast between the bright yellow and the cloudless, clear blue sky beyond made her heart skip a beat. The wildlife at first disturbed by her sudden appearance began to rustle once more as she lay there, still as the rocks, her tawny side barely moving, in and out, as her breathing slowed. Then after a time, she felt the change come on her, and the mountain lion became the woman again.
Addy sighed and remained still, her not quite as sharp eyesight passing over the valley below her. Late summer flowers continued to bloom stubbornly among the grass. She would have to pick some for Granny on her way back. She thought of the disappointment her running off had undoubtedly caused her grandmother and blinked back tears.
“I’m sorry, Granny,” she whispered, “but I just can’t face it.”
Addy had never had any control over this change that happened to her. From the time she was three, anything that made her at all nervous could trigger it, and it wasn’t until she was away from the perceived danger that she would turn back to herself, and even that wasn’t necessarily by her choice. There had been times, however, when running away had not been enough, and as a mountain lion, she had never had enough control of her own actions to stop herself from lashing out.
Addy still shuddered to think about the hikers who had found her in the woods one day when she’d been sixteen. They’d been city boys from the east, by their accents, college boys full of both the arrogance and entitlement that comes from wealth. When the two of them had decided the “hillbilly” girl they’d found was theirs for the taking, Addy had tried to run, only to be knocked to the ground. They had ripped at her clothing, expecting an easy time of what they’d intended to do to her. Not surprisingly, she had changed, becoming a trapped animal of an altogether different nature. She had badly mauled both boys in her attempt to escape.
Later Granny had found the newspaper article about the two hikers who had tangled with a mountain lion. In spite of the Fish and Wildlife Department’s stance that eastern mountain lions no longer lived in these hills, locals had believed the two boys. Both had ended up in the emergency room, one had nearly died. Both had been badly scarred for life.
Addy rolled over onto her back and fought to control her shaking. She’d told Granny what had happened, and her grandmother had forced her to swear never to tell anyone—and she never had. The rest of the family had always preferred to ignore the fact of her father’s nature. Since his death, no one but Granny had even mentioned what he had been—and what Addy had become. Granny had told Addy stories about her father, as he had grown up. For whatever reason, Addy’s mother hadn’t seemed to mind what her husband became on occasion, but then she had been a forest ranger, and had probably been thrilled to marry a man who sometimes became an endangered species. No one had dreamed that Addy would be left alone to deal with what she had inherited from her father.
Addy had almost fallen asleep when the bark of a squirrel announced approaching danger. Addy turned her head to look down the valley and saw a bear coming her way. She sat up, hoping her movement would scare him off. Anyone who lived in these mountains knew that bears were far more interested in their next meal than in tangling with a human being, so she didn’t want to surprise him. He surprised her, though, when he simply continued toward her. There was no doubt he saw her—he was looking right at her—but he wasn’t charging and just looked curious. Addy glanced behind her then reminded herself that climbing a tree wouldn’t do her any good, since the bear, no doubt, could climb a lot better and faster than she could.
“Go away!” she shouted, standing and waving her arms.
She had always found such a tactic worked before, but not this time. The bear just came closer, still not charging but still intent on her. Then it got close enough that she could see his eyes, and she froze. There was no mistaking that deep golden color, and she could have sworn the bear was smiling at her.
In another moment, the bear morphed into something else, and she stood facing Mark Saint.
* * *
“Your granny sent me this way,” he said, though she hadn’t asked. “She told me to look for the biggest sugar maple.”
He paused and let his eyes roam over the gigantic, old tree.
“Sure is pretty,” he said.
Addy just stood there, wringing her hands and glancing around, looking for a way out of this encounter, a part of her wanting to flee but another part fascinated by what she had seen.
Mark took a step closer, and though she refused to take a step in retreat, she swallowed hard.
“Your granny also told me to look out for a mountain lion,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Turned out that wasn’t necessary, ’cause I saw you Shift as you climbed the hill.”
Her eyes snapped to his, then, and hers were wide with fear.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” he said, as though reading her mind. He kept his tone soft, his stance nonaggressive. “You’re not alone, Addy, though I got the feelin’ you think you are.”
It wasn’t quite a question.
“I didn’t…” She stopped, not having a clue as to what she wanted to say.
“You didn’t know there are others like you, did you?” He sounded surprised.
She crossed her arms over her chest and hugged herself tightly.
“Granny tells me my daddy did, but there’s no one else in the family. Then Daddy died, and...”
“How old were you?”
“Not quite two.”
“How old were you when you started Shifting?”
“Is that what you call it? About three, I guess. One day I, well, I just found this new game. Granny was surprised but happy for me—I think—then she told me I shouldn’t tell anyone, even my cousins, ’cause they couldn’t do it, and they might tell on me.
“I didn’t know what to do. I mean, I couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t even control it. Granny tried to help, but she didn’t know how to help me.”
“She didn’t remember what your daddy did?”
Addy shook her head. “She’d married Granddad, knowin’ about him, and it was Granddad who taught Daddy. But Granddad died before I was born. There wasn’t anybody else.”
Mark cursed softly under his breath, but when she looked up at him again, he was only shaking his head.
“Let’s sit down a minute,” he said, reaching out to her.
When she didn’t take his offered hand, he didn’t try to touch her but just gestured toward the ground. Addy let herself drop to the soft turf and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around them protectively.
“First off,” Mark said, “you gotta know there’s nothin’ wrong with you. There are a lot of Shifters in the world, though most people’ll tell you they don’t believe in ’em.”
“Are you the only one in your family?” she asked, her curiosity overcoming her fear for the moment.
“No. Gosh no. There’s all three of my brothers, our dad, our Uncle Bart. Grandpappy and Great-Grandaddy were both Shifters. There’re some cousins, too.”
“Are you all…I mean, do you all become…”
“Bears?”
Addy nodded.
“Yeah. We’re a bear clan. They tell me Grandpappy and Great-granddad looked more like grizzlies than black bears, like us, but they were both pretty big men.”
Addy snorted in disbelief. She couldn’t help it. “And you’re not?” She dropped her eyes, then, embarrassed to have him know she’d noticed anything about him.
“They say that Great-granddad was almost seven feet tall,” Mark said, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his elbows, “though I’m guessing that’s probably an exaggeration. Sort of like Paul Bunyan.”
She smiled in response to his tone of voice and started, finally, to relax. Then she thought of the way he had morphed—Shifted—right in front of her.
“How do you control it?” she asked. She looked up to meet his eyes once more and prayed he would understand how much she needed to know.
He sat up again, and reached for a nearby stick, worrying it between his fingers as though trying to find the best way to explain it to her.
“You don’t, at first,” he said. “I was about three when I started, too. Course, I had the advantage of a father, uncle, and big brother to walk me through it. At first, it was just fun—a game Matt and I played with our daddy and uncle. But then, they started to take us aside and teach us how to focus, how to control what was happenin’ to us—and how important it was to keep it a secret from anyone outside the family. Truth was we kind of felt sorry for the other kids in school, on account of they couldn’t Shift.”
“I never went to school,” she said. “Granny had to keep me home and close, because I couldn’t ever choose not to change—Shift?” He nodded. “So I was home-schooled, which turned out okay. I mean I probably learned a lot more than the other kids did, since I earned my GED when I was fifteen. I don’t think I missed much.”
Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Fifteen? Wow. I’m impressed.”
“You shouldn’t be,” Addy said. “We have a pretty big library, and Granny’s a terrific teacher. Plus I had one-on-one instruction all the way through, and I’ve always loved to read. And anyway, just look what you can do.” She gestured down the slope toward where he had been standing when he’d Shifted. “Are you always in control that way?”
“Heck, no,” he said, sitting back up. “You remember I said our band avoids all that glitter and bright lights, pyrotechnics and smoke crap? We avoid really big crowds, too, ’cause if any of us start feelin’ cornered, well, we can sometimes Shift without thinkin’ about it, and that can be more than awkward.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Course, sometimes you have to take a chance. That happened to us just last spring.”
“What happened?” This Addy wanted to hear, since these were the times that really scared her.
“Well, me and my brothers and Uncle Bart were playing pool at this place in Nashville. It was a real dump, but we’d found it a good place to hang out on account of they had a bunch of illegal gambling goin’ on.”
“You and your brothers gamble?”
“Heck, no—I mean Ma would kill us, if she ever thought that—but we figured we could really relax there, ’cause no one was likely to ask too many questions.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, well, anyway, we didn’t know Mel was tryin’ to find us.”
“That agency woman?”
“Yeah. Turns out, she’d heard us play, and was trying to track us down. Somebody told her where we liked to hang out.”
“Uh-oh.”
Mark snorted. “You get the picture. See, Mel came in, and we were in the back room. Before she could come find us, some low-life in the bar started hittin’ on her. When she said ‘no,’ he got really mad and started to hurt her.
“That’s about the time Matt went back into the bar to get us some more beer. Well, he heard Mel scream, and jumped in to help, and before we knew it, we’d all Shifted, Matt to handle the guy on Mel, and the rest of us to keep the biker crowd off Matt.”
“Was Mel okay?”
“Oh, sure. A little shaken up—and I’m not sure she would’ve taken us all home with her, iffen she hadn’t been—but everything turned out okay. The thing is, Matt left the guy pretty bloody, and we were lucky nobody in the bar wanted to attract the attention of the police, so they just let us go.”
Addy had mangled a wildflower, while Mark was speaking, and now she tossed it aside.
“How did Mel handle…well, what did she think about…what you can do?”
“I won’t say she accepted it as normal or anything—not right away, that is—but Matt did save her, and we all pitched in to help her keep her job at the talent agency, so it gave her a couple of reasons to be open-minded about the whole thing.”
“And now she’s really goin’ to marry your brother?”
Mark grinned. “Yeah.”
Addy shook her head. “I hear what you’re sayin’, but I don’t know if I can do what you do. I’ve never been to a city before, and I don’t know if I can face all that…well, that newness, all those people…and still stay myself. I can’t just turn it on and turn it off like you seem to be able to do.”
Mark shifted to his knees and held out his hand.
“Let’s see.”
“What?”
“Let’s see if you can ‘just turn it on and turn it off’ if you try,” he said, straightening and offering her both his hands.
“I can’t just…”
“I’ll be you can, Addy. I’ll bet if you just relax and let yourself go, you can do it.”
Addy’s gaze flickered between his golden eyes and his offered hands, uncertain, then she took a deep breath.
“Do you really think I could?” she asked, incredulous.
“There’s only one way to find out.”
Screwing up her courage, she moved to her knees, and after only a moment’s hesitation, she laid her hands in his.
* * *
She pictured the mountain lion in her head, and in another moment, she felt the change—the Shift—begin deep inside of her. She looked up to see Mark’s golden eyes sparkle as his form began to waver, and then they were standing head to head, on four legs instead of two. Addy felt suddenly intimidated—Mark as a bear was not only more than a foot taller at the shoulder than she, he now probably outweighed her by two- or three-hundred pounds. She shied back, warily. Then the bear proved he was still Mark by rolling over on his back. Belly up, he looked back at her, grinning.
Addy let out a not-quite playful scream then pounced on him, and the tussle was on. First one then the other would pounce and roll over. She would run away, but Mark had no difficulty catching her. Addy knew from experience that bears were much faster than mountain lions—she had once only just managed to escape a real one, because she had been light enough to climb out on a limb, cross to another tree, climb down, and run away before the bear could get back on the ground—but Mark would let her get ahead of him, just so he could circle around and “attack” from another angle.
Almost an hour passed before, exhausted, Addy returned to collapse under the big maple tree once more, panting. Mark lumbered up and plopped down beside her. He wasn’t even slightly winded.
“That’s not fair, you know,” she said, as she Shifted back to herself without any noticeable effort. It seemed suddenly so easy, and she realized it had a lot to do with how relaxed she now felt about the whole thing, thanks to Mark’s presence and understanding.
Mark was laughing as he, too, Shifted. “You started it,” he said, lying beside her, propped up on one elbow. “You’re a pretty good pouncer.”
Addy blushed, embarrassed by how good it had felt to physically play with him. Another “first” in her day.
“And you didn’t have any trouble Shifting in either direction,” he said. “Did you?”
She met his eyes, then, as golden as her own. “I guess not. It’s never been like that for me before. Did you pick it up that fast?”
“Shoot, no. I was three when I started training, but real control didn’t come until I hit puberty. It was like that with all of us. Since you’re a mature adult, who’s had years of experience Shifting without any guidance, it makes sense that you should pick it up faster than we did. After all, you don’t have to learn how to Shift. You only have to learn how it feels to control it.
“And to not be afraid of it,” he added, gently cupping her face in his hand.
Addy wanted to pull away from him—or at least, she thought she should want to pull away from him—but she had never been able to trust anyone—other than Granny—the way she already trusted this almost stranger.
When she didn’t pull away, Mark leaned in to lay his lips on hers. His kiss was as gentle as his touch, but she felt it all the way to her toes. He didn’t push her, but she suddenly found herself kissing him back.
When he finally ended the kiss and sat back, she thought they were both trembling. She sat up and turned away from him, confused.
“Maybe I shouldn’t’ve done that,” he said, and she heard regret in his voice.
She took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder at him.
“Why did you?”
Mark smiled. “Because I like you. I think you’re beautiful. And so far, it’s been a really good day.”
Honestly shocked by his words, Addy abruptly stood, not certain if she believed him or not. When he came slowly to his feet beside her, she looked at him again. There was nothing in those deep golden eyes that offered anything but complete honesty, and after a moment, she surprised herself by reaching for him and kissing him back.
This time it went on longer, and as the kiss deepened, she felt something inside her shift, which had nothing at all to do with mountain lions or bears. This time, when they broke apart, they were both short of breath.
“Maybe I shouldn’t’ve done that,” she offered shyly.
He smiled. “Why did you?”
She took a deep breath. “Because I like you, too.”
Mark’s smile broadened into a grin, and he kissed her once more, hard and fast.
“We should get back.”
“Definitely.”
He took her hand, and their fingers locked.
“Shall we Shift or stroll,” he asked.
“We’d better stroll,” she said, glancing at his teasing eyes. “Bear hunting season is only a week away, and I don’t want to take any chances.”
Mark laughed and pulled her along.
“So, does this mean you’ll go to Nashville with me?” he asked after a time.
Addy sighed. “I think I want to. I think I have to try, anyway.”
“I won’t let anything happen to you, Addy,” he said, his voice sober, now.
“I know.”
She glanced up, and their eyes met once more.
“Thank you,” he said.
“For what?”
“For trusting me. It means a lot.”
“Okay. Then you’re welcome. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For believing in me,” she said. “For believing I can really do this. And for offering to be there to pick me up, if I fail.”
He stopped and pulled her close to lightly kiss her brow before taking both her hands and stepping back. “You’re not gonna fail, Addy.”
“You haven’t even heard me sing, yet.”
Mark smiled. “I don’t have to. I’ve heard you speak, and I’ve played your music. That’s enough.”
With that kind of faith, Addy supposed it was.
* * *
Addy couldn’t stop staring out the window. They had been on the road for over three hours, but every mile had brought more excitement, more new things to see, from the narrow, winding roads leading away from the farm to the terrifying jumble of traffic flying around Knoxville, to the seemingly endless expanse of four concrete lanes called Interstate 40 that led to Nashville. For the first time, she was aware of what she had been missing by staying in her little valley. Oh, she had read books, watched television, heard Granny talk about the outside world, but she had never experienced it for herself. And once the first wave of guilt for leaving Granny alone had passed, Addy had been determined to remember every little detail, so she could share it with Granny when she returned home.
“Only another fifteen, twenty minutes,” Mark said then yawned.
“This must be tiring,” Addy said. “Driving like this, I mean. All this traffic.”
“It’s not too bad,” Mark said, “though I rarely get to drive, since Uncle Bart usually grabs the wheel.”
“Tell me about your Uncle Bart. You’ve told me about your brothers, and growing up on the farm, but where does Uncle Bart fit in?”
“I told you my dad’s one of ten.”
“Yes.”
“Well, Dad’s the oldest, and Uncle Bart is the youngest—he’s only seven, eight years older than Matt. Bart and Dad are the only two Shifters in that generation, so they’ve always been close.”
“And because Uncle Bart is a Shifter, he’s close to all of you, too?”
“Somethin’ like that. Unlike Dad, though, Uncle Bart went to college. He went to East Tennessee State over in Johnson City. When you meet him, you probably won’t believe he majored in theater—though he’ll be the first to tell you he only got on stage a couple of times when he couldn’t avoid it, and the rest was all stagecraft, design, and lighting. He did an internship at one of the big casinos in Las Vegas, but he hated it and came home as soon as it was done. That’s about the time the family started wondering if the four of us boys could make it as a professional band. Not that they wanted to send us off to Nashville, but things were getting’ pretty tight on the farm, and the money would sure come in handy. Dad put Uncle Bart in charge of us, and it’s worked out pretty well.
“Of course, snagging the Konstantine Talent Agency—thanks to Mel—is what’s allowing us to get a decent recordin’ studio and some pretty classy live gigs, but Uncle Bart’s still in the middle of it. Thank God.”
Addy smiled. He obviously loved his uncle, and it made her feel safe to know the Saint family was a close one in which everyone seemed to look out for one another. She thought about her own family and frowned.
“What’s wrong, Addy?” Mark asked.
She sighed. “Nothin’. I’m just breaking one of the Ten Commandments.”
“Oh?”
“I’m coveting your family. I can’t imagine what it’s like to have so many people care about what you do, what becomes of you. I have Granny, of course, but...”
Mark reached across the space between them and took her hand in his.
“You’ll know soon enough, Addy. You’re bringin’ your music to us. That’s gonna make you family real quick. I promise you that.”
Addy squeezed his hand in return, praying it would be so.
After a time, the traffic began to pick up again, and he released her hand to place both of his securely on the wheel.
“Gettin’ close to our exit,” he said. His eyes never seemed to stop moving as he continuously checked his mirrors, keeping a close eye on all the traffic around them. She wondered if his other life as a bear made him all the more attentive when living as a man.
As they exited the Interstate, Addy took a deep, fortifying breath. It wouldn’t be long, now, before she met the people who meant so much to Mark—the people who would help to decide her own future.
“How do you do it?” she asked after she had lost track of the times and directions they had turned at various intersections. “How do you know where we’re going?”
Mark chuckled. “I do it by takin’ the exact same route home every time,” he admitted. “I sometimes end up goin’ a long way out of my way to get there, but at least I get there, as long as I stick to what’s familiar.”
“How do other people do it?” she asked, genuinely perplexed, as she watched all the cars and trucks jockeying for position at every intersection.
“How is it you can find your sugar maple tree from anywhere in the forest?”
“Well, I’ve sat under that tree all my life,” she said.
“Same goes in the city, I figure,” Mark said. “And if you’re new, you get a map—lots of street maps of Nashville available. Or you can do like Uncle Bart and cheat with that thing he calls a GPS. Funniest thing you ever saw. It’s this little box with a screen that shows you moving along the roads as you go. Then there’s this cranky soundin’ woman’s voice that tells you when you make a wrong turn. Uncle Bart named her ‘Prudence’ after this one teacher we all had in elementary school. She was a cranky old bat, too.”
Addy laughed, but she realized quickly that Mark was aware of how tense she had gotten and was trying to help her relax. It almost worked until they pulled into a small parking lot behind an old, three-story house.
“This is Mel’s place. She lives in the apartment on the top floor. Uncle Bart’s tryin’ to wrangle a deal to buy the whole building, so the rest of us can live in the other two apartments. It’s not that we have to live in each other’s pockets, but we’re still feelin’ our way in the city, so we’d like to stick together. Matt’ll be movin’ in with Mel, after they’re married, of course, but we figure we’ll save a lot of money with the rest of us sharin’ space we own, too.”
Addy wasn’t paying Mark much attention as she got out of the SUV and stared up at the grand old house. Even her inexperienced eye could tell it was a very old building that had had extensive, quality renovations done. It was a lifetime removed from her cabin in the woods in more than distance.
“Everythin’s gonna be fine, Addy,” Mark said, wrapping an arm around her and giving her a reassuring squeeze. “They’re gonna love you. I promise.”
Addy took a deep, fortifying breath and turned to the back of the SUV to get her guitar. If she was going to meet her future upstairs in that apartment, she wanted the one weapon she had at her side.
* * *
The music rang through the recording studio, sending Addy to a place she had never been before. The four male voices—all baritone or bass—should have been overpowering, but the four brothers were so in tune with one another, so focused on the music, they held her in a kind of spell she’d never even imagined before.
“I told you they were good,” Mel whispered, nudging Addy with her shoulder. “I’ve got dibs on the guitar guy, but they’re all pretty, aren’t they?”
Addy could only nod. They were that: pretty and special. Mark had been right, of course. His family had welcomed her with open arms, and Mel, especially, had taken Addy’s part, instantly bonding with the other woman against the mass of Saint men, who could be a little overwhelming when they were in one room together. Following a quick lunch, they had piled into a van and the SUV to head over to a studio they had reserved that afternoon for some music rehearsal. As the brothers warmed up, Addy felt the sudden urge to join them.
“Sounds good, boys,” Uncle Bart said through the intercom from where he sat with a sound man on the other side of the glass. “And you were right about that bridge, John.”
“You know I hate to admit it,” Matt said, “but he really was.”
“The mandolin made all the difference, there,” Mark agreed.
“Don’t let it go to your head, kid,” Luke said, laying down a quick pattern on his drums.
“Like I’d ever have the chance to,” John, the youngest, said with a grin.
Everyone laughed, including Uncle Bart in the booth, but finally the older man called a halt to the fun.
“All right, all right. The clock’s runnin’, so let’s move on. Why don’t you try Addy’s new song and bring the pretty lady in to show you how it was meant to be sung?”
“That’s you,” Mel said with a grin.
Addy wiped her suddenly damp palms on her jeans and opened her guitar case. As she pulled it out, Matt let out a low whistle.
“Is that what I think it is?” he said, leaning closer for a better look.
“I guess that depends on what you think it is,” Addy said. “My great-granddaddy got it in trade back in the ‘30s. I know it’s not much to look at, but it still sounds pretty good.”
The guitar had an ebony finish on a mahogany back and sides and a red spruce top, with ivoroid binding. A rosewood fingerboard was accented with mother-of-pearl tuners. Under the studio’s bright lights, she could see clearly every scratch and scuff mark, but the familiar trademark Gibson headstock logo made everyone anxious to hear how it sounded.
“Like I got anythin’ to brag about in the looks department,” Matt said with a grin, holding up his scratched and scuffed Martin guitar. “Looks don’t mean a thing in a music studio.”
Addy glanced around and realized the same could be said about any of their instruments, and she felt marginally better. Marginally only, however, since they hadn’t yet heard her either play or sing.
Luke passed out copies of the song to everyone and sat back down at his drums.
“I don’t really know the names for all the chords I use,” Addy admitted shyly.
“Self taught?” Matt asked.
She nodded and blushed.
“Nothin’ wrong with that,” Mark said with grin and a wink. “I’ll take a good ear over book learnin’ any day.”
“That’s for sure in this group,” Bart said from beyond the barrier. “Why don’t you just play your song and sing it as you think it ought to go, darlin’, and the boys’ll just join in as you go along. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Addy checked her tuning one last time, slipped her favorite thumb pick out of her front pocket, took a deep breath to calm herself, and started to play. She had called the song “Appalachian Home,” but it was about more than just a place. It was about belonging, being a part of the land, a family, of mattering to someone. She’d written it for Granny, but realized as the boys joined in, both instrumentally and vocally, that it was even more effective as a song of love between a man and a woman, something she had never even considered before.
Mark quickly picked up the rhythm on his bass fiddle, and Matt didn’t have any trouble following her fingers on guitar. Then Matt started to sing with her, and the harmony made her heart soar. Her own vocal range was a low alto, and Matt’s warm baritone set it off beautifully as they moved into the second verse. Mark added a second baritone to verse three, and then Luke jumped in with his bass on the final chorus, making the full sound shimmer. Luke had quickly switched to brushes on the drums, and John started to add touches of an improvised counter melody on mandolin. As the last chord faded, Addy knew she had finally heard “Appalachian Home” as it had been meant to be played.
“Well, I’d say that’s a keeper,” Bart said from the next room, his voice full of both approval and satisfaction.
Addy looked around and saw clearly that all of them felt the same way, if their grins were any indication.
Mel’s face was tear-streaked, though her smile was sunny bright.
“Please promise me, Addy, that even if you decide not to sign with Konstantine, you will sing that song at our wedding.”
Matt carefully set aside his guitar and crossed to pull Mel into his arms.
“So, what do you say, darlin’?” Mark asked softly from behind her. “Care to join us?”
Addy turned to look into his eyes, seeing in them an emotion as potent as the music they had just played together. Taking a very deep breath, she finally nodded.
“I’d like that.”
Mark grinned, and setting his bass aside, he came forward and took her into his arms.
You were right, Granny, Addy thought as he held her close, and she felt his lips brush the side of her face. You were so right.
* * *
They finished their final set to a rousing round of applause, and Mark thanked everyone, reminding them to drive home safely. Addy felt as though she was floating above the stage, as she gently set her guitar in its stand. Before stepping down, she scanned the still-crowded reception. Granny was sitting with Mark’s two grandmothers, chatting amiably as the elderly often did at the weddings of their grandchildren. Mel and Matt had invited Granny to their wedding, and their family home was close enough to Granny’s place, that it was no trouble for one of the many Saint cousins to pick her up and take her back home again. Addy wouldn’t be going home tonight, and she wasn’t entirely certain of what she felt about that.
“Buy you a drink, darlin’?” Mark asked, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders.
“Just something cold, thanks. I need to talk to Granny, though.”
Mark gave her a squeeze of understanding. “I’ll bring it to the grannies’ table, then.”
“Thanks, Mark.” She smiled up at him and blushed when he dropped a light kiss on her lips.
Winding her way across the crowded room, she was waylaid several times by people who had nothing but positive things to say about her performance with the Saint brothers. They had publicly débuted “Appalachian Home” during the actual wedding ceremony, and according to everyone who had spoken to her about it, there hadn’t been a dry eye left in the house. Addy was glad for many reasons, not the least of which was knowing it was the best wedding present she could have given to her new friends.
Addy had been rehearsing and recording with The Four Saints for a couple of months, now, and they all had such confidence in her that Matt had asked her to sit in with the band on stage while he and Mel were on their honeymoon. Uncertainty still plagued her, but there was no way she was going to let them down—short of a complete breakdown, of course.
It was Uncle Bart who had taken it upon himself to make certain that wouldn’t happen. He’d spent countless hours with her over the past eight weeks, working with her to help her understand what was happening when she Shifted, how to anticipate it, and how to control it instead of letting it control her. She’d never felt the kind of confidence around other people she now felt, and while she’d been acutely nervous before the wedding, she’d managed to hold it together in the time leading up to “Appalachian Home,” and she and Mark and the others had “nailed it,” as John had claimed. And throughout the reception, she had covered Matt’s guitar parts, adding her voice to the band’s regular songs. Addy couldn’t imagine not being scared to death, when she finally stepped on stage in front of an audience of strangers, but she knew she was going to be just fine, thanks to this entire family of new friends who believed in her.
“There’s my darlin’,” Granny said, when Addy stepped up to the table.
“Have a seat, Addy,” Mark’s Grandma Larkin said, gesturing to another chair at their table.
“Thank you, Mrs. Larkin.”
“Oh, just make it Grandma, dear. Mrs. Larkin is much too formal on such an occasion.”
Addy smiled her thanks and felt Granny squeeze her hand.
“Didn’t I tell you my Addy was doin’ just fine by your boys?” Granny asked, hugging Addy’s arm to her.
“You certainly did, Flora,” Mark’s Gran said. “We especially liked that new song,” she said, turning her attention to Addy. “The one you did durin’ the wedding? Oh, my, but I wept through that one.”
“We all did, Agatha,” Gran said. She sighed. “It was so beautiful.”
“Ladies,” Mark said, as he came up to the table and handed Addy a glass of punch.
“There’s our boy,” Gran said, putting her arm around him.
“You look tired, sweetie,” Grandma Larkin said. “Are you sure about drivin’ all the way back to Nashville tonight?”
“We’ll be fine Grandma. We’ll trade off on the drivin’, if we get too tired, but we’re all feelin’ pretty frisky right now, so it shouldn’t be a problem. And no one’s been drinkin’ alcohol, either, so don’t you worry.”
“Well, of course we’ll worry,” Gran said, reaching across her in-law to take Mark’s hand. “That’s what grandmothers do, you know.”
Mark laughed and leaned in to kiss both their cheeks.
“I need to start packin’ up,” he said, glancing over at the stage and seeing Luke starting to break down his drums.
“I should help,” Addy said.
“You’ve done enough, today, Addy,” he said, resting his hand on her shoulder to keep her seated. “We’ve got this.”
“Okay.”
“Such a nice boy,” Granny said.
Addy nodded, her eyes following Mark as he returned to his brothers.
She took a deep breath and turned back to Granny.
“I’m goin’ back to Nashville with them, Granny,” she said, keeping her voice low so only her own grandmother heard her.
Granny put her arm around her and squeezed. “Of course you are, darlin’.”
Addy saw Granny’s knowing smile and blushed.
“You knew?”
She nodded. “And I’m not even goin’ to say ‘I told you so.’”
Addy laughed and wrapped her arms around her grandmother’s neck.
“You deserve to,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”
“Oh, and I love you, darlin’, so much.”
“I’ll miss you.”
“Of course. But don’t you be worryin’ about me, Addy Ann. I have a lot of new friends, now, and they’ll be stoppin’ by to keep me from gettin’ lonely.”
“You bet we will,” Grandma Larkin said, hearing the last bit. “We had no idea Flora was livin’ so close to us. We’ll visit often, and I’m bettin’ our granddaughters will be lookin’ in on your granny in the future as much as they look in on us now.”
Addy smiled. “Please thank them for me.”
“We will. Now as your granny said, don’t you be worryin’ about a thing.”
Addy hugged and kissed Granny one more time said, goodbye to the others then headed off to pack up her guitar.
Whatever happens now, she decided then and there, I’m gonna do what Granny says and not worry about it anymore.
* * *
Addy stood in the front widow of Mel’s third-floor apartment, looking down at the street below as traffic continued moving into the night. She’d changed into her nightgown and robe, but couldn’t seem to settle. The night lights and sounds in the city were so different from what she was used to, that even after only a couple of nights back home, they were keeping her awake again.
“You okay?” Mark asked, coming up behind her.
“It’s the city,” she murmured. “I wonder if I’ll ever really get used to it.”
They heard a siren in the distance.
“I know the feelin’, darlin’,” Mark said, wrapping his arms around her from behind in a now-practiced move.
Addy leaned back in his arms, comforted in a way she never would have imagined only a few weeks before. She shouldn’t feel this way after knowing Mark for only two months. She shouldn’t have let him stay in Mel’s apartment with her. But Mel and Matt were at this moment on their honeymoon in a cozy cabin somewhere near Gatlinburg, and she didn’t want to be alone tonight.
She thought of the rest of the men in the apartments below. The original owner of the building—who had been living on the first floor—had decided to sell it to Uncle Bart after all when the second floor tenant had moved out. Luke and John were staying on the second floor, now, and Uncle Bart had moved into the first floor apartment. What her living arrangements would be once Mel and Matt got back was still up in the air, but for one week, she was going to explore what she and Mark might have together.
Addy hugged his arms about her and sighed.
“I shouldn’t be here with you,” she whispered, “but I can’t seem to care. I don’t want to be anywhere else.”
“I’m glad,” he said, kissing the side of her neck, “’cause I want you here with me, too.”
She sighed and turned in his arms, wrapping hers around his neck and laying her head on his broad chest. She might have been content to stand that way all night, but as his lips began to explore her neck and move to her jaw, she raised her face and brought her lips to his. Her mouth opened under his prompting, and their kiss deepened until his arms were the only thing keeping her from melting into the floor.
When he shifted to return his exploration to her neck and throat, she tipped back her head to give him open access.
“I don’t know about you, darlin’” he murmured, “but I don’t think we’ll be sleepin’ in separate beds tonight.”
“I hope not,” she said on a gasp, as his tongue explored a sensitive place along her collar bone.
Mark chuckled and brought his lips back to hers.
“I’m thinkin’ we’re a little too exposed out here in the livin’ room, too,” he said between kisses.
Addy felt herself blush, and she would have pulled away from him and the front window, if Mark hadn’t been holding her so tightly. He laughed and lifted her into his arms.
“Just like Scarlet O’Hara,” she murmured dreamily as he headed for the bedroom.
“Except I don’t think I’d make it up a flight of stairs,” Mark said on a laugh.
She giggled, until he set her down at the foot of the bed and went back to work, kissing her fiercely. She kissed him back, trying desperately to get her hands beneath his shirt so she could touch him. He was still wearing the jeans and sweater he had changed into before getting into the car, but the t-shirt beneath was tucked snuggly into his jeans.
“Easy, darlin’,” he whispered, letting go of her just long enough to pull his shirttail free. Then her hands were on him, molding his torso, feeling the hard, smooth contours of his muscular chest. When her fingers found his nipples, he jumped and pulled her hands away.
“That’s for me to do, sweetheart,” he said, trapping her arms behind her back with one hand while he used the other to pull the front of her robe open and went to work on the buttons on her nightgown.
Then she felt both garments slip away, and she froze as the night air found her bare breasts. No man had ever seen her like this, and she was both embarrassed and excited as never before. She was breathing hard, her breasts heaving, and she could see by the street light leaking around the drapes that he was staring at her with bright eyes.
Mortified, she pulled away, grabbing at her nightgown and robe.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Addy?”
She took a deep, fortifying breath. “I…I’m sorry.”
“You haven’t anythin’ to be sorry for, darlin’. I think maybe I should be apologizin’ to you, though. I thought you wanted…”
“No!” She was crying now, almost frantic with needs twisting inside of her. She felt herself tingling with the first onset of a Shift, and she angrily grabbed at her hair, using the pain to keep her in the now.
“Just tell me what you want, Addy,” he said, his words a gentle balm to her frantic nerves.
“I want you!” she cried. “Only I’ve never done this before, and I’m bound to make a mess of it!”
She heard his sigh, and was startled to hear relief rather than frustration in it.
“Then I should be apologizin’ to you, darlin’,” he said, taking her gently by the shoulders. “I can’t say I’m the most experienced buck around, but I know better than to treat you like I just did your first time out.”
Mark turned her to him once more and tenderly brushed the hair back from her face. He smiled.
“I remember the first time I saw you. Your hair was this wild, jumbled mess, soft as a kitten and the color of summer wheat.”
Addy felt herself blush again and dropped her eyes.
“I used to cut it myself.”
“Yeah?”
She nodded. “I’d just hack at it with scissors when it got in my way. Misty—the hairdresser Mel took me to see?—took one look at it that first time and just rolled her eyes.”
He chuckled. “I guess she didn’t appreciate how much I wanted to run my hands through it,” he said, combing out the tangles of her new haircut with his fingers, until the soft feathers were in place once more. “I do like your new haircut, though,” he added.
She managed a small smile. “I do too. And I think Granny was relieved to see it.”
Mark laughed and pulled her to him once more.
“We’re gonna take it slow this time, darlin’,” he said, lightly brushing his lips over her forehead and along her jaw. “Anything I do that makes you uncomfortable, you tell me. Hear?”
“All right,” she said, though the touch of his lips was doing those magical things to her insides again.
This time, he shed his own sweater and t-shirt before reaching for her robe and nightgown. She marveled at his musculature, running her fingers over his shoulders and down his arms. His chest was dark with thick, curly hair, which arrowed down and disappeared into his jeans. She barely noticed when her robe and nightgown slid to the floor, leaving her completely naked once again. She was too busy trying to unbutton his jeans. Then the zipper nearly defeated her, but he took over, slipping off his jeans, leaving only his shorts behind as he gently pushed her back onto the bed.
Addy couldn’t take her eyes off of him. “You’re so beautiful,” she murmured.
His laugh sounded pained. “That’s supposed to be my line, darlin’.”
But she shook her head as she pushed him onto his back and straddled his thighs. She ran her hands over his body like a blind woman, the sensitive tips of her fingers exploring every inch of him. When she got to the waistband of his shorts, he lifted her off of him, reversing their positions.
“My turn, darlin’.”
“Let me see you, first,” she said, staying his hands.
He hesitated, then lifted himself far enough to push his shorts down and away. Her eyes widened when she saw him, and she started to tremble.
“I know how this is supposed to work,” she whispered. “I mean, I do live on a farm, but…”
“We’ll do this a little different,” he told her with a chuckle, nudging her legs apart.
She opened for him, and when he reached down to touch her intimately, she gasped when she felt a gush of wetness between her thighs.
“Mark!”
“It’s okay, Addy. It’s just your body tellin’ me you’re ready for me.”
When her eyes met his in confusion, he smiled. “Trust me, darlin’.”
“Okay,” she whispered, suddenly certain that she could and did.
She felt that huge part of him at her opening and sucked in her breath as she felt him come into her, slowly at first, then suddenly filling her completely. There might have been pain, but it was gone in another moment as he began to rock inside her in an age-old rhythm. When his lips and hands found her breasts, she cried out again. But just as she thought she could stand no more, her whole body tightened, and this time his voice joined hers as their world shattered.
* * *
Addy lay curled against Mark, listening to his heartbeat slow to match hers. She had never imagined anything like what they had just shared together.
“Are you all right, darlin’?” he asked after a time.
She smiled to hear the concern in his voice. “I’m fine. Actually, I may be a whole lot better than fine.”
She heard the deep rumble in his chest and remembered him as a bear and the pleasure of wrestling with him in the meadow.
“I need to tell you something,” she whispered.
“What?”
“I almost Shifted tonight,” she confessed. “When I panicked, just before we…”
She broke off. It was one thing to do what they had and quite another to talk about it.
“But you didn’t,” he finally said. “You stayed as yourself. You didn’t Shift, when I scared you.”
She pushed herself up and looked him in the eye. “You didn’t exactly scare me!”
When he only raised his eyebrows in that way of his, she blushed.
“Well, all right, you did—for just a minute, though.”
He reached up to push her loose hair behind her ear, letting his fingers trail down past her ear, along her neck and to her throat.
“I’ll never be able to tell you how sorry I am that I did.”
She reached out to close his lips with her finger tips.
“It doesn’t matter, now, Mark. Really it doesn’t. I didn’t know what I was gettin’ into. Well, not exactly, anyway. But you made it good for me. You made it right. And I love you for it.
He smiled. “Do you?”
She nodded. “Yes. I guess I love you for a lot of reasons, but that one for sure.”
“I’m glad.”
Mark reached up to take her face between his big hands and pulled her down to kiss her. She felt herself start to tingle again, and it had nothing to do with Shifting. When he pulled one of her legs across his body, she sat up to straddle his thighs. This time he allowed her to trace her fingers down his torso, and when she reached the part of him that once more ached for her, he took her hips between his strong hands and lifting her, fitted her onto him.
Addy sucked in a deep breath at the sensation. It was different like this. Bigger. Fuller. And she didn’t know quite what to do. Then he used his hands to first lift her then slowly let her down once more.
“Ride me, darlin’,” he said, and his golden eyes burned for her.
She did as he directed, grasping his hips with her thighs and bracing her hands on his shoulders as she moved up and down on him, guided by his big hands. After a time, he released her hips only to reach for her breasts. The aching pain/pleasure from his hard grasp shot straight to her groin, and she arched back, screaming her release. He followed her over the edge with a roar as he emptied himself into her once more.
Much later, she stirred as she felt him pull the blanket up over her shoulders against the cool night air.
“Mark?”
“Go back to sleep, Addy.”
“Okay.”
“Addy?”
“Hmm.”
“Before you do, there’s something I should tell you.”
“Hmm?”
“I love you, too.”
Her breath caught, and she suddenly felt warm all over.
“I’m glad,” she whispered, dropping a light kiss on his furry chest.
“So, from what you saw of them, do you think my family will be up for another weddin’ so soon?”
“I hope so,” she said, snuggling in. “I don’t want to wait as long as Mel and Matt did, okay?”
Addy felt his smile when he kissed her brow and allowed herself to believe in miracles.