Chapter Three
Kennedy’s mind fractured.
Pain, more intense, more acute than she’d ever experienced in her life, coursed through her body, pulsating stronger with every beat of her heart. There was no beginning or end to the agony, only endless torture and the certainty that she was dying. Her sight and awareness snapped in and out of place, but the snippets of sensory information she received were jumbled and made no sense to her screaming consciousness.
Pressure built inside her mind and bones, dragging a jagged scream from her lips that she felt but couldn’t hear. It felt like her body was trying to tear itself apart, trying to explode. Kennedy sobbed, wanting her mother.
A mass of heat and weight touched her, moving close to her body. She reached for it, needing to not be alone, and touched something soft and warm. Her mind calmed for a just a moment, and then erupted.
Kennedy knew she was screaming, knew her bones were breaking and moving inside her body, but her brain refused to accept that it was reality. She whipped her head back hard and struggled for breath, riding the waves of shock that threw her limbs around like a puppet. She gasped and sobbed, wishing for death, wanting it to end.
Then it did. The world around her went completely silent. The cold that had felt bone deep disappeared, replaced by a warmth so sweet it almost made her cry. Kennedy dragged oxygen into her lungs with her eyes pressed firmly shut, not wanting to open them in case she was actually dead.
A soft wetness touched the tip of her nose, startling her. It felt strange, but the touch comforted her, made her feel oddly welcome. She pried her eyes open and stared into the endless brown eyes of a massive cougar.
Terror flooded through her immediately and she reacted, throwing her body back away from his huge form. Kennedy stumbled and fell to the forest floor, backing away from the huge cat, but nothing seemed to work. She couldn’t seem to stand up. She cried out in panic, wondering if her body was broken from whatever episode had just happened to her, wondering if the cougar would attack and eat her now that she was crippled.
The cougar didn’t move. It stayed silent and still with its head laid on its huge paws, watching her intently. Kennedy forced herself to calm down, to accept that, for now, the cat wasn’t trying to hurt her. She frowned, remembering the softness she’d held onto during the pain. Had it been the cougar’s fur?
She opened her mouth to speak and a soft rumble escaped from her lips. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t stand… Did I have a stroke? Kennedy tried lifting her arm and found that she could. Oh, thank God… She touched her fingers to her lips.
Thick pads tipped with sharp claws pressed against her mouth. They felt so strange, so alien, that she threw herself back, not understanding where they’d come from. Kennedy shouted for help but, again, the sound that came from her throat was muffled, sounding more like a roar than a human cry. She lifted her hand again and stared, moving the digits of her paw slowly, and began to laugh.
She was broken, she realized. Something huge had happened to her body, a stroke, an aneurism, something that had changed her brain chemistry so much that she was hallucinating. And it wasn’t just visual hallucinations, she was also experiencing auditory, vocal, and physical delusions. She was probably in a hospital somewhere, fighting doctors, or, like she’d first thought, she was dead.
“You’re not dead,” a voice rumbled from directly behind her. Kennedy whipped her head around and searched for the speaker, praying it was a real person and not St. Peter or the cougar talking to her. She needed something to make sense right now.
“Fuck.” The voice sounded as frustrated as she felt. Kennedy swirled back around to stare at the cougar, who was sitting up now, looking at her with its head cocked to the side. The expression on its face was so human, so grumpy, that she almost laughed.
“I’m not grumpy, and you’re not dead. Kind of the opposite, actually.”
Kennedy stared at the big cat in astonishment and formed the words she wanted to say in her head, since her mouth wouldn’t work. “Are you talking to me?”
The cougar nodded. “Yes.”
“So, I’m crazy now?”
He huffed out a laugh, or what sounded like a laugh, and shook his head. “No, you’re not crazy.”
“Then…” She searched for the right thing to say, to the cougar, who she was talking to, inside her head. “What am I?”
“You’re a cougar shifter.” The response was so matter of fact, so final, that she couldn’t think. For a long moment, she just sat there, staring at him, wondering how her brain had come up with this mythology.
“This is real, Kennedy.” He spoke softly, rising to his feet and hesitantly moving toward her.
She backed up, not wanting to let him touch her, even though the memory of his soft fur sifting through her fingers gave her warmth and made her long to reach out. Her brain balked at the thought and she hissed, climbing to her unsteady feet and moving across the clearing away from him. He let her distance herself.
“This isn’t real, it can’t be. Something happened to my brain and it’s created this … scenario … for some reason. There’s no such thing as werewolves … and how do you know my name?”
“Cougar shifters,” he said, “and I know your name because I’m talking to you in your mind, if you haven’t noticed.”
“I’ve noticed.” She huffed, defiantly, literally feeling the hackles on the back of her neck rise in ire. Kennedy swallowed hard and let her eyes fall shut, and then searched for reason. She wasn’t dead, that didn’t feel right, but she wasn’t human anymore either. Her body felt different: lower, leaner, and stronger than normal. It felt strange, so strange, but somehow, right. There was a part of her that recognized the shape she was inhabiting. Kennedy frowned, and then remembered. Her dreams, so intense and vivid lately, had felt primal, feral even. She recognized this form because she’d assumed it nightly, in her subconscious.
Kennedy exhaled. This was really happening. Her body had been trying to warn her for months. She looked up at the cougar, focusing her mind on him, trying to stay sane in this insane situation. “What’s your name?”
“Trace.”
“I’ve been having dreams, lately.”
She watched him get up and take a few steps toward her. This time, she didn’t move, didn’t run. She let him approach. When he was close enough to touch her, he sat and waited. He was beautiful, she realized, huge and powerful with a gorgeous, tan-colored fur. Her fingers, paws, she reminded herself, longed to touch it again. The urge to reach out grew, increasing the closer she allowed him to get. He was near enough now that she could hear his heart beating. She wished she could hear his mind, too.
Intrigued by the idea, Kennedy wondered if she actually could read his mind like he so easily seemed to read hers. It was worth a try, she figured, so she imagined her consciousness as a bright light, thank you yoga meditation, and pressed it into his mind.
“Get out!” Trace roared, baring his teeth at her aggressively.
Kennedy stared at him. She’d only glimpsed his thoughts for a split second, but it had been enough. It was chaos in there, loneliness, loss, and confusion mixed with hunger and a need so strong it slicked her mind like oil on the tongue. She tasted it, trying to identify it, and then froze.
Lust. He wanted her. A lot.
Kennedy felt her legs weaken, so she flopped to the ground and stayed there, thinking. It was too much. Why would he be feeling those things about her when they’d just met? She couldn’t deal with his physical reaction to her strange new body while she was trying to accept the fact she had a new body. One thing at a time.
Lifting her head, Kennedy appraised Trace’s mood and hoped he wasn’t angry at her anymore. She supposed it had been an intrusion, going into his mind like that. She should have apologized. “I’m sorry,” she rushed out the words, “I didn’t know it would work.”
He didn’t say anything.
When she’d peaked, she’d seen his grief and sadness, had felt it like a hand wrapped tight around her heart. She might not have known him, but she knew men, in general, wouldn’t appreciate having their innermost thoughts and feelings known by a stranger.
He was alone out here, and she knew it like she knew her own name. Why, she couldn’t tell. There hadn’t been time to see or understand, but there was an emptiness inside him that made her want to reach out. She wondered where his family was.
“Trace,” she said quietly, feeling a wave of sadness overtake her as she thought about her family, “will I ever be able to go home again?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, but you’ve got a few things to learn before you can go back.”
“My mom will be expecting me back for supper.” She smiled sadly, hearing how silly the words were, how trivial they were in light of her current situation. Kennedy frowned. “What if I can’t shift back?” The knot inside her stomach twisted tighter.
“You will,” Trace reassured her, his tone nonjudgmental. “I’ve never heard of a cougar being stuck in cat form.”
“Then how? Can you show me?” Kennedy padded forward and reached out a paw, placing it over his, and marveled at how much bigger he was. “Please.”
****
Trace looked down at Kennedy’s paw on his. The second she’d touched him, the frustration and anger he’d felt when she’d pushed into his mind, vanished. She felt so good, so warm and soft, and … fertile.
Fuck! He pulled his paw back and stood, pacing away from her, thinking of what to say. Of course he’d help her. It wouldn’t do to have the human he’d practically abducted not show up home for supper, although he wasn’t sure if she’d make it home in time for the family meal.
Taking a deep breath that he immediately regretted, because it tasted of her, Trace turned and nodded. “I’ll show you.”
“Is it going to hurt as much as shifting into a cougar did?” Her eyes flashed wide, looking suddenly terrified at the thought.
“No,” he said firmly, “nothing ever hurts as much as that first time. But, it won’t be fun.”
“Fucking hell,” she cursed. Even though he didn’t know her, yet, Trace could see determination and spite replace the look of fear that had been on her face a moment before. He approved. She was strong, stronger than she looked, which was important in a mate.
She was his mate. A heavy thought. Trace knew there was no point denying it anymore. He was too drawn to her, too connected to her already, to doubt that she was meant for him. Still, it galled. He would have to adjust his life for her. Everything he liked about his little house in the forest would change. What if she wants to move? What if she hates living in the forest, alone and away from her family? What if she doesn’t want me at all?
No, that wasn’t happening, he decided. She was his now, and he wouldn’t be letting her go without a fight. Trace huffed. That was his cougar talking, asserting his dominance. The logical human part of his brain knew it might be a little bit harder than just growling at her and demanding she stay. She hadn’t been raised a cougar, hadn’t know what she was until she’d shifted today. Her entire life was in ruins right now, and he couldn’t expect her to just accept him as a mate immediately.
He’d have to bring her around to his way of thinking. The urge to be with her, to mark her with his scent, was too great already and would only increase with time. Normally, with a female cougar, he’d be able to tell right away if she were interested sexually, but Kennedy was probably too confused to have any reaction to him. Especially when he was in cougar form. Maybe his human form would give her more to think about.
He crossed the clearing and rumbled low in his throat to get her attention. “Okay, here’s what you have to do.”