Feral Heat
Page 8

“You got it, Sean,” Ronan said.
“Ride with me,” Jace whispered to Deni as Sean walked away and the Shifters and humans began to disperse. The cops started herding everyone out to the parking lot, Shifters growling and rumbling in annoyance, but not arguing, their human friends walking along quietly.
“I came with Ronan and Elizabeth,” Deni said nervously. She knew Jace had ridden in on a motorcycle—she’d heard it when he’d pulled up.
“I need to pretend I didn’t come alone. Ronan and Elizabeth will understand.”
Deni knew Jace was trying to make himself look as though he belonged in this Shiftertown. If he went off with Deni, as though part of the community, he might escape scrutiny. But that meant Deni would have to climb onto the back of a motorcycle.
“What happened to you?” another cop asked before Deni could answer Jace.
Deni stopped short, but the man wasn’t talking to her. He was looking behind them, at Ronan, his tranq rifle pointed at the big man.
Ronan did look bad, his arms cut and bruised, one eye swollen. He’d skimmed on clothes while the cops were closing in, and Elizabeth now had her arm firmly around him. “I’m a bouncer,” Ronan said. “At a bar. Humans like to throw punches at me.” He shrugged. “I let them.”
The cop gave him a look of suspicion, but he didn’t pursue it. Instead he stepped in front of Jace and gave him a belligerent scowl. “What about you? You let humans take punches at you too?”
Jace’s face, neck, and torso, bared by his open jacket, bore bruises from his fight with Broderick. Deni realized something she hadn’t earlier—a few of the marks on Jace’s neck were from her fingers, some from her teeth. She flushed.
Jace gave the cop a lazy smile without lifting his head all the way. He draped his arm around Deni and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Religious ceremonies can be boring,” he said, his voice slightly slurred. “Found something better to do for a while.”
The cop got a knowing look, and Deni blushed harder. Well, Jace wasn’t lying. What they’d done in the darkness had been swift, hot, and glorious, not boring at all.
“Yeah, well, keep it at home,” the cop said.
“Love to.” Jace kept up his careless slouch, leaning on Deni, his arm around her.
The cop, fortunately, left them alone, looking around for others to harass.
“You’ll have to drive,” Jace said when they reached the bike. Deni thought she recognized it as belonging to Liam, who must have lent it to Jace. “I acted a little drunk so he’d leave us alone, but if he’s watching, I don’t want to give him an excuse to stop me for DUI.” He gave her a grin and dangled the keys in front of her. “So tonight you’re my designated driver.”
Chapter Three
Deni looked at the keys Jace pressed into her hand, and blind panic washed through her. “I can’t.” She couldn’t draw a breath. “Jace, I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“Can’t?” Jace frowned down at her, his expression a mixture of compassion, curiosity, and the need to hurry. “Why? Never driven a motorcycle before?”
“I have. I own one. Or, I did. It’s just . . .” Deni’s body was cold, fear pumping through her. “I was in a wreck on my motorcycle,” she said in a rush. “A man ran me off the road last year, on purpose. I was badly hurt—took me a long time to recover. I haven’t been able to ride a motorcycle since then. Plus I have . . . episodes. I don’t know what I’m doing for stretches of time—I’ve even attacked my own family. I start to go feral. Like tonight, when I fought, and when we—”
“Hey,” Jace interrupted her hurried flow of words, his voice warm in the darkness. “Stop. It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right. It’s a long way from all right.” Deni drew a shuddering breath. “I haven’t been able to so much as get on a motorcycle, not even to ride with someone else. I panic—I can’t do it. Sorry, I should have told you.”
“Yeah, well, we didn’t get much chance to talk, did we?” Jace’s eyes glinted, the teasing light in them making her both embarrassed and relieved.
She handed the keys out to him. “Thanks for understanding.”
Jace didn’t take them. “I mean, I get that this is hard for you, Den, but you’re still going to have to drive the bike. Sorry, sweetheart, I can’t risk getting stopped or arrested, or even questioned. If they find out who I am, things could get bad. Not only for me, but my father, Liam, Dylan—maybe all Shifters.” He slowed his words, as though sensing Deni’s fear escalate again. “You’ll be all right. I’ll be with you.”
The keys were heavy in her hand. “Oh, right. So I won’t black out and crash us, because you’ll be on the seat behind me?”
“Something like that.” Jace brushed his hand over her arm, his fingers blunt and warm.
Deni’s fear was too raw to be easily calmed, but she was grateful to him for trying. She knew she had to get on the damned bike and take them out of there—he was right about that—but she couldn’t make her feet move.
One of the cops was looking their way. The man waited a beat or two, then started for them.
Jace gave Deni a small shove toward the motorcycle. “We’ve got to go.” Another push, moving her another step. “Only for a few miles. Once we’re off their radar, we can switch.”
“I can’t ride in this.” Deni gestured to herself, the fabric wrapped around her body. She had, in fact, ridden in a sarong before, but the wind would be cold and chafing. Maybe he’d take pity on her and find someone else to take him to Shiftertown.
Jace slid out of his denim jacket and draped it around her shoulders. That left his torso bare, but he didn’t seem the more vulnerable for it. “You can wear this.”
The jacket held his body heat and his scent. Deni closed her eyes. She looked for something peaceful inside herself, a place she used to be able to find. Jace would be with her. He’d make sure they reached Shiftertown. She willed herself to believe.
“Now,” Jace said in her ear.
Deni jumped, but his voice galvanized her. She took a deep breath and started to swing her leg over the bike.
It got stuck halfway. Deni’s heart thumped—hurry, hurry—but she couldn’t make her leg go over the seat. She clenched her muscles, willing her body to obey, but she was shaking, her breath leaving her.