Dawning of Light Read online

  Fucked-up, maybe, but that didn’t stop his body from craving what was a natural instinct.

  “So what happened?” Cecilia’s voice pulled him out of his errant thoughts. “I wasn’t paying attention,” she admitted. “I didn’t think anyone else would be out on the water at this time of day.”

  “Why were you out there?” he demanded harshly, even though he figured he already knew the answer. She had wanted the quiet, the tranquility, the sunlight. She’d probably done it a thousand times before. That didn’t make it any easier for him to accept. Not after watching her nearly drown.

  “A hundred yards from shore without so much as a life jacket—and in half-frozen water, no less. Who the hell goes kayaking when it’s practically winter?”

  “Don’t yell at me,” Cecilia snapped back as she tried to suppress a shiver. “I just wanted to feel the sun, that’s all. I’ve done it countless times. Out on the water, as the sun comes over the horizon, it’s—it’s—”

  “Seductive?”

  “Yes. Good word. And I knew it would likely be the last time this season. I just needed it today, that’s all.”

  He could sympathize, he really could. But he wasn’t very good at expressing it. “Try, the last time ever. If I catch you out there on that water again—”

  “You’ll what?” she challenged.

  “Trust me, I’ll make your life damned miserable.”

  She turned her head away, resting her cheek against his shoulder. She was still cold, but not nearly as bone-chilling cold as she was when he’d first dragged her out of the water and she was still wearing her wet clothing.

  “How are we going to get back, without any clothing?” she finally asked.

  “My cottage isn’t too far from here, and it’s fairly secluded from the others. I’ll carry you and we’ll make quicker time. Are you ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be, I guess.”

  He stood up and scooped her into his arms. She snuggled into the heat of his chest, and he forced himself to ignore the jolt of magic that zapped through his system. Like a drug.

  When he was younger and stupider, he and a few buddies had discovered catnip. The herb had seductive powers to shifters. It also made them think they needed more and more and more. It was highly addictive stuff. Finn had only tried it a handful of times before he quit. He liked to be in control, and when one was snacking on catnip, one was definitely not in control.

  He raced through the sand, up over the dunes, and through a swath of trees until they came upon a small cottage that was indeed secluded from all the others. It was almost entirely surrounded by trees and sat near the edge of the coterie.

  When he decided to make this place his home, he specifically chose this cottage for its seclusion. It was close enough to feel part of this motley pack of magical beings, but far enough away that he didn’t feel uncomfortable around a bunch of Lightbearers who weren’t quite ready to accept him into their lives in the first place.

  He hurried through the back door and strode through the basic three-room cottage until he stood in the bathroom, and then he placed her on her feet in the tub. “What are you doing?” she asked as she braced one hand on the wall and the other on his shoulder.

  “Giving you a hot shower, to help get your body temperature elevated again.”

  “You should shower too,” she protested.

  He nearly groaned—had she just asked him to get into the shower with her? There was only so much a man could take of a naked Cecilia Druthers. How the hell he’d ever considered her too skinny was beyond him, now that he’d gotten a solid look at what she looked like without clothing. He’d never realized how incredibly beautiful the female body could be, and he’d seen plenty of naked women in his life.

  But there was something about Cecilia, something about her body. It was baffling for any number of reasons, not the least of which was that until that moment, he would have considered himself a breast man, the larger the better. Now, Cecilia’s small, pert breasts seemed utterly perfect.

  Her hips didn’t flare, either, like most of the shifter females he’d hooked up with. Whether it was true or not, male shifters often theorized that a female shifter’s hips were designed for grabbing, when a male was ready to mate. Suddenly, he didn’t much care for that theory. With Cecilia, she was tiny enough that he could wrap his arms around her waist and hold her tightly against him, while he pressed into her from behind, if he were so inclined to mate with her.

  Damn it, what the hell was wrong with him? He shook his head, pushed away thoughts of doing naked things with Cecilia Druthers.

  “I will—when you’re done,” he said with a growl. He reached into the tub to twist the knob, and Cecilia hooked her arm around his and pulled. He stumbled and leaped into the tub to keep from slamming his head against the wall.

  “Fates—are you trying to kill me? Is that the thanks I get for saving your ass?” he snapped at her.

  “No,” she replied, far more calmly than him. “I’m trying to save your ass. I’m no healer, but I can tell that your body temperature is too low also. You need this shower as much as I do. We’re both already naked, and we’ve seen everything there is to see. So just turn on the damn water already.” Her teeth were beginning to chatter again. He cursed and turned around and did as she said.

  He nearly groaned out loud again when she sighed with utter bliss as the steaming hot water hit her skin.

  “Sorry,” he said when he realized how hot the water really was. “I like my showers really hot. Let me turn down—”

  She grabbed his hand as he reached for the knobs again. “No, it’s perfect.”

  He turned back around and saw that she stood under the spray, eyes closed, a small smile on her lips. The spray was beating on her chest, turning her breasts red and causing her nipples to peak. He had the most insane urge to dip his head and suckle one of those nipples. What would she do if he tried?

  What the hell was he thinking? He shook his head and then elbowed her out of the way so that he could get under the spray of water.

  Cecilia Druthers? Really? He’d rather… He’d rather what?

  “If you don’t stop touching my ass, Cecilia…” He ground out the words through clenched teeth.

  “You’ll what, Finn?” she challenged him. “This shower is helping, but maybe you were right earlier. Maybe there’s a much more efficient way to elevate both our body temperatures.”

  Was she seriously suggesting…?

  “I was experiencing a moment of temporary insanity out there on the beach,” he said. “This is as hot as it’s going to get between us, Cecilia.”

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

  “It’s not happening.”

  “I’m okay with one-night stands.”

  “Shut up, Cecilia.”

  “Fine,” she snapped, and she angrily pushed aside the shower curtain and climbed out of the tub. Feeling a combination of relief, guilt—and strangely enough, disappointment—Finn stood in the shower by himself until the water temperature began to dip into uncomfortable territory. Only then did he turn off the shower and climb out of the tub.

  He quickly dried himself with a thick terry-cloth towel and then wrapped it around his hips and secured it there—no more walking around naked while Cecilia was around—and stepped out of the bathroom.

  She was asleep in his bed, buried beneath a mound of blankets that she’d obviously pulled out of the closet. Her wet hair, dark blonde against the stark white pillowcase, fanned out behind her head. He sighed and brushed a lock out of her face. She turned toward his hand, nuzzled it for a moment, and then sighed softly in her sleep. Finn pulled his hand away and looked at it.

  What the hell was he going to do with her?

  * * * *

  She slept until noon, and they started arguing five minutes later.

  “I am not going home wearing your clothes,” she protested.

  “Would it be better if I went to your house and informed your p
arents that you’ve been sleeping naked in my bed and could I please have a set of clothing in which to send you home?” he retorted.

  They were both on edge, a combination, no doubt, of her near drowning, the freezing cold, the close proximity of their naked bodies, and the resulting mutual desire that had gone unfulfilled.

  Finn might be ten times a jerk in most situations, but taking advantage of females was not one of them. Cecilia, he was certain, had been under duress when she’d propositioned him in the shower earlier, just as he had been when he’d propositioned her out on the beach. The two of them—together? It was madness.

  They could barely stand to be in the same vicinity half the time. While he was reasonably confident her spitfire personality would translate exceptionally well in the bedroom, what happened afterward? They’d probably fight, she’d get her feelings hurt, and it would end on a bad note. Not good, considering they were more or less stuck together in this coterie. He wasn’t about to let her go wandering off into the human world on her own, even if she pissed him off ten times till Tuesday.

  Besides that, he was honest enough to admit that he still held his own deeply engrained beliefs that shifters should mate with shifters, and Lightbearers should mate with Lightbearers. Sure, he’d slept with Daisy, but they’d both gone into the situation with the same expectation. Daisy wanted a mate as much as he did—which was not at all.

  And sure, Tanner and Olivia were making a go at it—a very real, honest go. Hard to deny those two were in love, the sort of intense, bone-deep, undeniable love that few were given the privilege to experience. Beside the fact that they could hardly refrain from banging each other every chance they got, they looked at each other with utter adoration in their eyes. Definitely in love. Definitely forever.

  And he was pretty sure Lisa Bearrans, another shifter from Quentin’s pack who had moved to the coterie, was banging that pansy-ass Dane Metaldyne. Dane had once been Olivia’s betrothed, until Tanner had handed over his entire fortune to the king of the Lightbearers so that his kingdom would not go bankrupt. Some might suggest he’d bought Olivia’s hand from her father, but the truth was, they were already mated when he did it, and besides, only a precious few people were even aware of the circumstances anyway.

  Lisa hooking up with a Lightbearer bothered Finn a little because he’d known her mate, Freddy, who died four months ago at Quentin’s hand, shortly before she gave birth to her second pup. But Finn figured it was just a rebound, plus, Dane had helped her whelp her second pup, so she undoubtedly felt some kind of obligation to him. He was so vastly different from her mate, though, that Finn could not imagine it would last long. Lisa would eventually turn to her own kind, when she was ready to settle down again. That was what shifters did.

  Considering she was the only female shifter—other than her young daughter and Tanner’s mother—in his vicinity these days, Finn had actually been trying to convince himself that he might be interested in her. It was hard, though, because she’d been with Freddy for so long, that he couldn’t get thoughts of the two of them out of his mind. Plus, she’d always been a little plump, which normally he didn’t mind in the least. But ever since he started spending time in Cecilia’s company, he found himself drawn more and more to females who were tiny and petite—like Cecilia. The thought made him scowl.

  Why in the hell was he so damn attracted to her? It was stupid. So they’d been naked together. So she literally fit perfectly with his body. So they showered together. So she’d propositioned him, and then when he pissed her off, she went and climbed into his bed and went to sleep. So she was temptation walking. All very valid points.

  But his job was to protect her—at his pack master’s command—and frankly, that command superseded any stupid-ass fantasies he might have of grabbing her and pushing her to her knees and screwing them both blind. In the end, she would still be Cecilia, a frustrating and sometimes annoying Lightbearer, and he would still be Finn, a shifter living amongst and attempting to protect the Lightbearers from his own damn kind, and –oh yeah–they barely got along.

  “Go to Olivia,” she suggested, still angry, those bright blue eyes still spitting fire. He was mildly surprised she wasn’t throwing magic bombs at him by now. She was well and truly riled.

  “Hell no,” Finn said. “I’m not running the risk that the queen gets wind of this and then does something really stupid like try to mate us. Shit, Tanner’s so hung up on his own Lightbearer mate that he might try to do the same damn thing.”

  She gasped as if he’d doused her with cold water, and then she wrapped her arms around herself and fought hard to keep the hurt look off her face. Which hardly mattered, because he could feel her injured feelings.

  She wore a pair of his sweatpants that were about seventeen sizes too big, and a T-shirt that was equally as large yet did nothing to hide the outline of her perfectly pert breasts.

  He should have suckled them when he had the chance, damn it.

  No—he made the right choice. He turned away from the look on her face, because he did not want to feel guilty and therefore do something stupid like pull her into his arms and try to reassure her that he didn’t really mean to be such a jerk.

  “I’ll go get our clothes from the beach,” he finally said, with his back to her. “You can probably use your magic or something to dry them off.”

  Without waiting for her acknowledgment, he pushed through the door and shifted into a wolf and went charging through the underbrush.

  * * * *

  While he was gone, Cecilia blatantly wandered through his cottage, snooping as she went. She did it on purpose because she was so angry with him that she wanted to get back at him for saying such mean things to her. Finn struck her as a pretty private guy, so she had no doubt that checking out his personal belongings would definitely piss him off.

  She found a box of condoms in the drawer of the bedside table, which didn’t surprise her in the least, although she did wonder with whom he used them. As far as she knew, he only ever left the coterie whenever he went chasing after her. Which meant he was no doubt sleeping with at least one of her fellow Lightbearers. She wondered which one, and angrily pushed back at the surge of jealousy. She most certainly did not want to sleep with Finnegan Hennigan, at least, not anymore. Sleeping with jerks—even utterly gorgeous, sexy-as-sin jerks—was not her style.

  Next to the box of condoms, she found a feather. She pulled it out of the drawer. It was about eight inches long and was white and fluffy. Her thighs tingled as she imagined that feather skimming across her body, tickling and tantalizing her—oh my. She shoved it back into the drawer and slammed it shut. She so did not need to know Finn had a propensity for a little kink. Especially not when she herself had the same damn propensity.

  His wardrobe was basic and typical of a shifter, so she assumed. Lots of jeans and dark T-shirts. Only two dress shirts and one pair of slacks. Apparently he didn’t often have occasion to dress up. She found the underwear drawer and noticed that the contents were awfully sparse. She quickly closed it and wondered—was he even wearing undershorts under his jeans right now? The temperature at the apex of her thighs increased again. She had to get out of this area of the house.

  She went into the bathroom, but there was nothing of real interest there, other than a stack of plastic-wrapped toothbrushes in the medicine cabinet. So he was a considerate one-night stand, was he? Either that or he’d been a dentist in a past life.

  The kitchen was pretty typical of a single male, utilitarian and with basic functionality. His fridge contained lots of beer and cold cuts and containers of leftovers that looked as if they were from the beach house.

  Was he sleeping with one of the cooks? Somehow, she could see Finn doing that. Served two purposes—he got laid and he got fed.

  She wandered into the living room, and that was where she finally found an inkling of his personal life. A photo album, the type people ordered online by e-mailing pictures and choosing a specific style. The comp
any then sent a ready-made photo album, with glossy pages of pics.

  She flipped the pages and admired pictures of shifters with copper-colored hair, smiling and laughing, hugging and teasing. Most had similar features, which told her they were related. A young, beautiful female and two handsome boys in various stages of life featured prominently, although occasionally there would be another male in the pic that she guessed was the female’s mate. He was the only one who had dark hair instead of coppery.

  There was a picture of the female, another male, and Finn with an older couple, in which Finn and the girl and other boy looked terribly young. Just hitting puberty, she guessed. There was another of Finn, with the same young man and young woman, plus the other male shifter she saw in previous pictures. They all had their arms slung over one another’s shoulders, and were all smiling for the camera, but there was a trace of sadness in Finn’s eyes that was unmistakable, at least to Cecilia. She smoothed her fingers over the picture and wondered why he was so sad.

  “Since when did you become so damn nosy?”

  Cecilia jumped at the sound of Finn’s voice, even as he snatched the photo album out of her lap.

  “Stop sneaking up on me,” she snapped as she fought the blush creeping up her cheeks.

  “Stop snooping around my house,” he snapped back, but his eyes were on the album in his hands. He stared down at the same picture she had been admiring.

  “Who is she?” Cecilia asked quietly.

  “My sister,” he said shortly.

  “Who are the others?”

  Finn’s gaze stayed riveted to the picture. “My brother, Reid. My sister’s mate, Ben.”

  “Why do you look so sad in that picture?”

  He lifted his gaze and caught hers. “We’re all smiling. What makes you think I was sad?”

  She shrugged. “I can tell, I guess. It’s in your eyes.”

  * * * *

  He looked down at the picture and traced it with his fingers, just as she had a moment earlier. He could still feel her magic on the page. He could also smell the scent of her arousal, and wondered at it. Surely she was not still hoping—