Though she'd been on plenty of dates and kissed a fair number of men, the way he stared at her lips brought a nervous flutter to life in her chest. She brushed her fingers lightly along the side of his neck. "I'm sorry." His skin was warm and smooth under her fingers, and she stroked higher until his hair tickled the back of her hand. "I'll try to be more subtle next time."
He leaned closer. "Right. Next time." The words were a puff of breath against her lips, and his mouth landed on hers in a soft caress that stole her breath. One of his hands twisted in her hair, urging her head back.
Oddly, he didn't seem compelled to hurry. Even after all the flirting, all the tension and what must have been an interminable drive through several states with her literally trying to climb into his lap, his mouth stayed slow and easy on hers. He kissed her with a determined thoroughness that made it clear he knew exactly what he was doing and planned on taking his time about it.
Oh, dear sweet Lord… Nowhere near as patient, she parted her lips with a soft moan. His touch made her body hum, his mouth made her hot with need—
And insistent hunger made her stomach rumble so loudly she heard it even over the frantic pounding of her heart.
Jackson smiled against her lips and pulled back, his breathing uneven. "Do you like fried chicken?"
Mahalia's fried chicken would have been heaven even if Mackenzie hadn't been starving. She ate a healthy serving of rice and corn along with it, enjoying the easy conversation Jackson and Mahalia kept up during the meal. As if by unspoken consensus, no one brought up the topic of why she and Jackson were there. Instead, Jackson related to Mahalia the latest gossip about the regulars at the bar, giving Mackenzie a chance to satisfy her hunger without feeling like she needed to talk.
Steven sat in silence, for the most part, sipping his iced tea and watching Mahalia and Jackson's animated discussion. Twice during the meal he excused himself to take phone calls, stepping into the other room so they could only hear the quiet murmur of his voice.
Mackenzie had just turned down a third helping of chicken when Steven returned from taking another call. His sober expression caught everyone's attention, and the relaxed atmosphere in the room shifted subtly.
He reached for his glass and took a sip before speaking. "That was John Peyton. He's agreed that Michelle's presence is necessary. He'll be making arrangements."
Mahalia turned to Jackson. "Call Nicole. She'll need some time, if she's going to leave the bar."
He nodded and wiped his mouth with his napkin before rising. He headed out to the sun porch, digging his cell phone out of his pocket as he walked.
Mahalia fidgeted with a fork and smiled sheepishly when she caught Mackenzie watching her. "Times like this, I wish I hadn't almost quit smoking."
Mackenzie wrapped both hands around her glass. "I—I don't suppose you could tell me what sort of time this is? I don't really understand what's going on."
"It must be a lot to digest," Steven said, his voice gentle. "Jackson told me that, until a few days ago, you didn't know anything about the world you come from."
The way he said it sounded like she was from another planet. "I didn't. I mean, I always knew I was adopted. My parents—my adoptive parents—didn't hide that from me. They always told me there'd been an accident and both of my birth parents had died when I was young. But I've never even seen a picture of them, much less heard that they were"—freaks—"shapeshifters."
"I have a picture here." Steven pulled out his wallet. "When May called and told me Jackson had stumbled across the little Evans girl, I got this out of my files before coming." He found a small photo and slid it across the table.
Mackenzie picked it up with shaky hands. At first glance the woman in the picture could have been her. She had the same features, long, black hair, and smile. The eyes were different; where Mackenzie's were bright blue, the woman had brown eyes so dark they almost looked black.
The man next to her was the complete opposite. Freckles dotted his pale skin, and bright red hair curled wildly around his head. What caught her attention, though, were his eyes. They were the same blue she saw in the mirror every morning, friendly and surrounded by smile lines even though they looked tired and worried in the picture.
"These are—" She couldn't quite form the words. Her gaze went back to the woman, and this time she noticed the hand resting protectively on the prominent curve of her mother's stomach. She looked six or seven months pregnant, but the expression in her face wasn't one of happiness. She looked just as worried as the man, maybe more so.
Mackenzie flipped the picture over out of habit, and was rewarded with words written in neat block letters. "Simon and Janice," she read aloud, her voice barely a whisper. "My birth parents?"
Mahalia leaned over and looked at the picture with a poignant mixture of sadness and nostalgia in her amber-colored eyes. "That was right after Steven told them," she remembered. "That's why they look so…" She let the words die. "They gave up everything to protect you from Talbot."
"Talbot? But the man after me is named Foster. Marcus Foster."
"The man after you is Charles Talbot. He adopted Marcus as a child." Steven's expression was just as troubled as Mahalia's. "I wouldn't say the boy isn't dangerous, but he's not the one behind all this."
Jackson came back through the sliding glass doors. "Michelle already called Nick. She'll be ready to fly down by the time Peyton gets his clearance from the board." He stopped behind Mahalia's chair. "I called Alec too. Figured we might need an extra pair of hands."
"Smart boy. Now, sit so Steven can get on with it. There's a lot to tell, and there may not be much time to get it all out there."
Mackenzie resisted the urge to slide her hand into Jackson's when he sat back down. Instead, she stared at the picture again. "You said this guy—Charles. He has a plan, I guess. But what is it?"
Steven looked at Jackson. "How much does she know?"
"I didn't want to overload her." He turned to Mackenzie and took one of her hands, wrapping his much-larger one around it. "Remember when I told you that only the wolves can transform others? Talbot's trying to change that. That's why Marcus kept insisting the two of you have to have babies. If you did—if it worked—that baby would be able to…" His voice lowered. "To make others like you. To change people into cougars."
"Change?" She tightened her fingers around his. "But didn't you say they do it by attacking people? What is this kid supposed to do? Go around clawing people up?"
He hesitated. "Biting, I guess. I'm not sure how it happens, but yeah. Attacks."
"Just like the wolves," Mahalia interjected. "It's up to you, sweetie. If you think it sounds like a good idea, we're not going to stand in your way. But Jackson led us to believe you're not too fond of the thought of cooperating with their plan."
"I thought he was crazy." She closed her eyes. "He just kept telling me we had a destiny. He tried to tell me about the shapeshifter thing, but I didn't believe him. God, I don't know what to believe."
"Do you want to see it?" It was Steven's voice, quiet and steady. "Do you want to see me change?"
She didn't. She wanted to hide her head under a pillow and go back to a world where everything made sense and no one thought her destiny was to have magical babies. But that world wasn't there anymore. What's more, she liked the people she'd met in the new world—Nick and the regulars at the bar, and even Jackson's standoffish partner.
And Jackson. Her fingers tightened around his again, and she opened her eyes to find him watching her with concern. "All right. I want to see it."
They ended up in the back yard by the swimming pool, surrounded by a high privacy fence. Steven had already stripped off his shirt, showing off a body that was in impressive shape for a man who claimed to be over fifty.
He looked up as he pulled off his shoes and socks. "It's not like the movies and stories." He folded his socks neatly and put them in his shoes. "Unless you're wearing something very tight, changing forms is not going to produce dramatically ripped clothing. More likely, you'll just look absurd while you wiggle out of it. A cougar stuck in a pair of boxer shorts isn't a very intimidating sight."
She tried not to picture it, but the mental image formed anyway. She found herself choking back a laugh, and Steven flashed her a smile as he reached for his belt. "I normally wouldn't strip na**d in front of a group of people to change, since I do retain the slightest hint of modesty, but I think it's important you see the transformation itself." The corner of his mouth quirked up, and he addressed Jackson. "Whether you stay to watch is up to you."
Before he could answer, Mahalia let out a low whistle. "Show off." The words were softened by the admiration in her eyes and voice.
Jackson groaned like a kid watching his parents kiss. "Yeah. Wouldn't miss it."
Mackenzie had to stifle another laugh as she caught Steven winking at Mahalia, and the emotional undercurrents she'd sensed between them at dinner made more sense.
She did her best to keep her eyes on Steven's face as he unbuttoned his pants and let them fall to the ground, but she couldn't help sneaking a glance at his na**d form as he stepped back again.
He was in really good shape for a guy over fifty. Let's hope that's a universal shapeshifter benefit.
Steven cleared his throat, and she blushed when she realized he'd caught her wandering attention. He nodded once when she met his eyes again. "Here we go."
She'd braced herself for a horrible transformation with snapping bones, rending flesh and pained noises. Instead she saw a brief shimmer, almost as if her vision had blurred, and Steven was gone.
A large cat stood on the grass, watching them with obvious intelligence. His head came up to her waist, and he paced forward with an easy grace that did nothing to hide the predatory danger in his stride.