Page 28 of Last Call at the Doghouse

“They weren’t playing Go Fish, they weren’t talking about work or music or anything else, they were fucking their brains out.” His eyes narrowed and darkened.

Mary. Sweet, grieving Mary, who always seemed so damned vulnerable.

She could break away and sit back down, but she didn’t. She stood right where she was, close to Duncan. “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

He didn’t deny it. “The time’s not right.”

When any man said he was the only one she could trust, she should take that as a warning to stay far, far away. And yet… “I don’t know what comes next. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

His arms wrapped around her and she tilted her head up. She couldn’t say whether he kissed her or she kissed him. Did it matter? It was a natural, completely instinctive drawing together of their mouths, no more than that; no groping, no exploring tongues, no press for more. It was just a kiss that should’ve been awkward but was not.

She needed it. She’d been needing it for days.

For a few wonderful seconds she forgot everything but Duncan’s touch. She spiraled into oblivion, into pleasure, into desire for something she knew she couldn’t… shouldn’t… have.

It was Duncan who drew away. He seemed to be reluctant. She sure was.

“You need to get some sleep tonight,” he said, turning his back to her.

“So do you. The floor…”

“Will be fine,” he interrupted.

She resisted the urge to tell him they could share the bed platonically, no problem. Might as well not start lying to him—and herself—now.

* * *

Many times since he’d discovered and accepted what he could do, what he was, Mitch had shifted and run, explored for hours, even slept and dreamed in his canine form.

It had never felt like this. The Mystic Springs air was different; the power he felt coursing inside him was purer, the moon and stars above seemed—no, they were—brighter. Clearer. Closer. No wonder so many Springers were reluctant to leave town. Even though he’d never been here before today he felt a strong pull, as if this was the home he’d never known, as if for all his life he’d been living in the wrong place.

Armi had been eager to leave, to hear her tell it, and the small town was hardly bursting at the seams. There wasn’t much else to keep anyone here; none of the advantages of a larger town. Maybe it all came down to what kind of magic a Springer possessed.

He wasn’t alone on his late-night run. As he explored the town, he saw not one but two Bigfoot creatures. One was in the woods behind the B&B, the other loped along closer to the southern edge of town. He might’ve thought he’d simply crossed paths with the same Sasquatch on a winding path, but their coloring was different, as was the shape of their heads and, most telling, their scent. Definitely two separate animals. Were they shifters like him? Maybe. Maybe not.

He ran across two other dogs on his run, but couldn’t be sure if they were relatives or simply canines out for a stroll, as he was. They didn’t approach him and he returned the favor.

The hour was late, but there were people out, too. Some strolled along the downtown sidewalks or paths through the woods, others sat in their own backyards looking at the stars, alone or in small groups with their heads together. Plotting? Visiting? Casting spells? His instincts said plotting, but he couldn’t get close enough to be sure without being seen. He was too damn big to be written off as a town stray no one had noticed before.

A flock of birds nested in trees not far from the B&B’s back yard, where wrought iron furniture and many flowering plants made for an inviting escape during daylight hours. The birds were quiet and well hidden in the foliage. They might not have caught his attention if not for the attack on his truck. As a man or a dog, he’d never look at birds the same way again.

He’d planned to stay out longer, but his mind kept returning to Armi. She wasn’t safe under the same roof as Sonny Camden. Was she safe anywhere, with all that was happening or about to happen? Maybe not, but Camden seemed to be a particular threat.

He wished his dad had been more specific. The information he’d passed on had been spotty at best. Mitch wondered if he’d been listening closely enough. At the time, you’ll soon start changing into a dog now and then, had made his comprehension less than ideal. The prophecy about what would follow the fall of the protections—war, chaos, evil—had been passed down to the elder Duncan from his father. Mitch’s own father had left Mystic Springs so solidly in his past he’d thought they didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Well, they did. There would be a woman he was charged to protect, Mitch was told, and when the dreams about Armi had begun he’d had no choice but to accept the pull to Alabama.

Mitch returned to the B&B back yard and the patio hiding place for his clothes and keys. He shifted, dressed, and entered the B&B through the back door. Then up the stairs, being careful not to tread on the squeakiest steps. He crept down the hallway, past rooms that were quiet but for a bit of light snoring here and there.

The door squeaked a little as he let himself into the room he shared with Armi. He knew how far he could open it without setting off a squeal no one could ignore. Slipping inside and slowly closing the door behind him, he looked at the bed where Armi had been sleeping when he’d left.

Where Armi should’ve been sleeping, still.

She snapped on the bedside lamp. “Where the hell have you been?”

CHAPTER 9

Duncan said she could trust him, and then he turns around and disappears in the middle of the night. He’d been gone for hours! To think, she’d been worried about him sleeping on the hard floor and had actually considered asking him to share the bed with her even though she knew where that would lead.