Hour of the Lion, Cherise Sinclair [good story books to read TXT] 📗

more impressed than not. She popped a bite of lasagna into her mouth, stilled, and then hummed, her lids half-closing.

Lost in pleasure. Herne help me.

Calum‘s breath turned ragged as did Alec‘s. Their eyes met in perfect understanding. Want this female for us. But she was human. They both looked away.

"We"—Calum cleared his voice to remove the huskiness—"We encountered Victoria in the bookstore today." He smiled at her. "I noticed Thorson looks less unhappy. Did you talk more with him?"

She nodded. "He asked me to tell"—she glanced at Jamie and amended—"to talk about old times. He seems so lonely. Not many people come into his store."

"He misses Lachlan," Jamie said. "I miss him too. He was always fun."

"Does Joe have no one else?" Victoria asked.

Alec shook his head. "His sister died years ago, and she‘d had only two children. Lachlan is her daughter‘s child. When Lachlan‘s mother and her lifemate–um, spouse—were killed in a car accident, Thorson gave him a home. Technically, he‘s Lachlan‘s grand-uncle."

"No kids of his own?"

"None he knows about," Alec said. "He enjoyed the fight too much and never took a lifemate . "

Victoria stirred her fork around in the remnants of her meal. She‘d eaten heartily, Calum was pleased to see. "How old is he anyway?" she asked.

Jamie spoke before Calum could stop her, "He‘s gonna turn a hundred in two years."

Victoria choked, swallowed. "Very funny, you rat. You got me twice tonight. Really though, how old is he?" She studied Jamie‘s face. "You weren‘t joking."

Jamie shook her head.

Copper-colored eyes settled on Calum‘s face. "Another shifter thing?"

He nodded, hoping she wouldn‘t take it any farther.

No grace was given. "So how old are you?" she asked.

There was a reason very few humans were allowed to know about Daonain; this was one.

But he didn‘t lie. "Alec and I are in our late fifties."

"Damn." She eyed him and Alec, her gaze like dancing sunlight. "You carry your age well, guys. How long do shifters live then?"

"Around a hundred-twenty or so." Alec winked at her. "No immortality, I‘m afraid."

"There‘s a relief. A hundred—I almost got my butt kicked by a centenarian? Some bouncer I am." Her face sobered. "Speaking of being a bouncer, I‘m giving you notice, Calum."

"What‘s that mean?" Jamie asked.

Calum forced himself to take a breath. "You‘re leaving me—us—Cold Creek?"

Her lips curved ruefully. "Yeah. I‘ve kept my promise to Lachlan. And my knee‘s healed up, good as new, according to the doc, so I need to get back to a real job."

Jamie pushed to her feet and threw her arms around Victoria. "I don‘t want you to leave,"

she wailed, giving voice to Calum‘s feelings as well.

Victoria hugged Jamie, blinking hard. "I know. But my people need me a lot more than your dad needs a barmaid. I go where I‘m needed."

To Vic‘s relief, the evening ended early. They‘d shared some wine in the living room, but Jamie was moping, Calum was quiet, and Alec… God, the unhappiness in his eyes wrenched her heart.

We screwed once, she reminded herself, as she went into the kitchen to get her coat. Once.

Hell, he‘d held a knife to her throat—what kind of relationship was that? She picked up her coat.

Besides, if he… She blinked. The dinner dishes were piled by the sink, the table wiped clean of all spills.

She turned in a circle, but the place stood empty. Nobody had done the clean-up; they‘d been in the living room. Surely Calum didn‘t have a maid. Not a crumb littered the floor, although she spotted a small bowl of milk and a tiny piece of frosted cake on a plate in one corner. Did werecats keep domestic cats?

"Do you really have to go now?" Jamie stood in the doorway.

"Yeah, I need to pack." Like she had much of anything to worry about. Vic nodded toward the corner. "I didn‘t know you had a cat."

"Oh, we don‘t. That‘s for the—" Calum‘s hand on Jamie‘s shoulder stopped the girl.

As he turned Jamie back to the living room, Vic sighed. Another fucking secret.

"Alec will walk you home," he said, his smile not reaching his eyes. Oh, hell, he couldn‘t be unhappy too, could he? But she thought of the evenings they‘d spent talking, arguing over politics and books, the late night chess games. Simple pleasures. His quiet companionship had filled a hole she hadn‘t realized was there. Both he and Alec had made her realize how alone she usually was…and would be again.

Yeah, this was why people shouldn‘t get attached to each other—because it hurt like hell to leave.

Alec waited by the front door, tossing his car keys up, and catching them.

She just looked at him. Wanting. Those large hands had stroked her body, that clever mouth had… Inhale, Vic. "Alec, I can get home by myself." She shook her head at him. "I need a quiet walk, and you and quiet don‘t go together at all."

Jamie snickered.

Alec‘s smile was tight as he ruffled the kid‘s hair. "You are a nasty lass, little niece, and Vixen is a bad influence on you."

His use of his special nickname made her chest tighten. Without speaking, Vic stepped past him and out, closing the door behind her. The chill wind whipped at her hair as she went down the steps. Night had fallen and the fountain was silent.

Chapter Eleven

The next afternoon, Thorson ignored the tinkling doorbell as a customer entered the store.

He scowled at the paperwork on the desk. By Herne‘s Holy Antlers, he‘d added the numbers three times and gotten different sums each time. If he came up with a fourth sum, he was going to—

"Heads-up, dude." A throaty contralto. A spicy scent. The little, book-loving barmaid.

Thorson spun his chair around. Vicki waved a travel cup in the air and offered it.

"What‘s that?"

"Coffee," she said. "I‘ve had yours; mine‘s better."

He rose to his feet, vaguely disgusted with his manners that he hadn‘t done so at once. What in Herne‘s name was wrong with him these days? "Fine, give it here."

She handed it over. Steam from the tiny drinking