Mackenzie crouched and put herself on eye level with him as she reached out a shaking hand to touch the side of his head. His fur was soft and the same reddish-blonde of Steven's hair and beard. He remained still under her careful touch, not moving even when she stood again and backed away. "Holy shit. Holy shit."
"That about covers it," Jackson said in a low voice. "Amazing, isn't it?"
Mahalia appeared at Mackenzie's elbow. "Are you going to be okay?" She sounded nonchalant, as if people turned into animals in her back yard every day.
Mackenzie glanced at the woman next to her and tried to smile. "I'm not sure. I think I need some time to process it all, honestly. It's a lot."
"You said it, honey." She rubbed a comforting hand over the middle of Mackenzie's back. "I'm going to get the pie out of the icebox and start some coffee."
"That sounds great, May." Mackenzie looked up at Jackson's words and found him watching her carefully. "Just let me know if you feel like you're going to freak out or throw up, okay?"
The idea of freaking out was appealing, but it wasn't the best use of her time. Instead she rested her forehead on his shoulder. "I think I'll make it."
"Good." He brushed her hair away from her face. "Wouldn't want Steven to think seeing him na**d is that traumatic."
"I heard that." Steven's voice drifted from behind her, and she hid her smile against Jackson's shirt. "I'm going inside. You two take your time."
She felt the chuckle rumble up in Jackson's chest. "Don't feel too bad for him. The bastard knows he has no business looking as good as he does. Damn shapeshifters, making the rest of us look bad."
Mackenzie felt her smile grow as she slid her arms around his waist. "I don't think you need to worry about looking bad." She trailed her fingers absently up his back, savoring the strength and warmth she felt even through his shirt. Simply touching him was soothing in a way it shouldn't have been, a way that had nothing to do with the sexual tension that had sparked between them the first moment they'd met.
"Yeah, tell me that in twenty years, when you still look thirty. I'll be pushing fifty and looking every inch of it, unlike our friend, Steven, there."
"Oh, quit whining." She made a face at him. "Fifty-year-old men bag thirty-year-old women all the damn time."
"Amen." He gave her a warm grin. "Come on. Let's go get some pie. We have more stuff to talk about."
Two hours later, Mackenzie soaked in the bathtub as she mulled over everything Steven and Mahalia had patiently explained. Listening to convoluted descriptions of magical spells over pie and coffee was so surreal she'd felt the urge to pinch herself once or twice to see if she was dreaming. In some ways, she almost wished she had been.
Jackson had kept the details of their trip from New Orleans blessedly vague, saving her the embarrassment of having them know how close she'd come to killing herself just to get into his pants. She'd made it through their discussion of the deteriorating spell, and how Mahalia and Jackson had managed to strengthen it before she held up both hands and begged for a break.
It was too much to process all at once. She doubted she'd be able to work her way through it in a month, much less several hours. Thankfully, Mahalia had silenced Steven with a pointed look when he seemed about to insist they finish their conversation.
Half an hour of quiet reflection in the bath had led to one conclusion: she had to stop thinking about the entire situation or she was going to end up as crazy as she'd accused Jackson of being to begin with.
Luckily, he's an excellent distraction. She rose and wrapped a soft, oversized towel around her body. She had to use a second towel to wipe fog from the bathroom mirror, but she smiled at her reflection as she picked up a comb and worked it through her hair.
Yes, Jackson would be an excellent distraction. Maybe once they figured out how to save her from the power-mad shapeshifter with dreams of dynastic domination, she could settle down and see if maybe Jackson could be more than a distraction. If New Orleans could be more than a pit stop.
Maybe she could have a life again.
Mackenzie was still smiling when she stepped through the bathroom door, her hair in a damp braid and her clothes exchanged for one of the comfortable, expensive silk nightgowns Nick had insisted on adding to their purchases during their afternoon of shopping.
Jackson sat on the end of the bed, his phone to one ear. "No, Nick. It's not—" He sighed. "It's fine for now. Just wait and come when Michelle… Yes, she's right here, and we're taking excellent care of her. Yeah." He held out the phone. "Nick wants to talk to you."
Mackenzie accepted the phone and perched on the bed next to him. "Hey, Nick."
"Are they breaking your head with all the supernatural crap?" she demanded immediately. "I told Jackson I'll kick his ass if they're freaking you out."
She couldn't help laughing. "No, they stopped when I begged them to. I have a feeling I'm going to be getting more remedial supernatural lessons tomorrow, though."
"Christ." Her boss's irritation was clear. "Tell them I said to lay off, all right? They've had years, even their whole lives, to learn this stuff. You need time."
"Maybe." She tugged her braid over her shoulder. "But I don't think I have time, Nick. Not with some superpowerful lunatic after me."
"Well, you being crazy, too, isn't going to help anybody."
She was about to answer when Jackson snatched the phone back. "Nicky, I love you, but your alpha bitch is showing again. Rein her in, why don't you?" He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right back at you." He closed the phone and grinned. "Luckily, she's in another state and can't actually kill me right now."
Mackenzie raised an eyebrow. "I thought she was coming here to meet her sister."
"Michelle won't be able to make it for a few days." He leaned back on his elbows. "It isn't easy for her to get away. The Conclave has to approve her involvement in potentially sticky situations like this."
It was impossible not to let her eyes wander with his lean body stretched out next to her. He was handsome as sin, all right, and exactly the sort of man she'd never been able to resist. She inched higher on the bed and curled on her side with her head propped on one hand. "Nick's sister can't travel without permission?"
"Nope. She's powerful, dangerous. The Conclave maintains complete control over her all the time. She even has a bodyguard who's… Well, he's not so much there to protect her as to spy on her and report back."
That distracted her momentarily from thoughts of kissing Jackson. She studied his face, her eyebrows drawing together in a frown. "You're serious, aren't you? That's—" Terrifying.
"It's crazy, I know." Jackson rolled to his side, his pose mimicking hers, and flashed her a look that was equal parts sympathy and apology. "Supernatural society, on the whole, isn't any different from the human one you're used to, Kenzie. There's bigotry and fear and horrifying realities I generally prefer not to think about too much. It's not always pretty, but it's the way things are."
"Not always pretty" was an understatement. She rolled back and stared at the ceiling as she considered the things she'd learned. "Are there good things? I mean, you'd think having that power would be an advantage, but so far it seems like the only people who aren't miserable or crazy are the ones who have nothing to do with supernatural society."
"Well, Alec and I have been able to help a lot of people thanks to our abilities. Nick too. But there are responsibilities, real ones and the ones other people try to lay on us." He rubbed her arm reassuringly. "I guess it all depends on whether you want to let other people's expectations define you."
"I guess." She caught his hand and twined their fingers together. "I think I've had enough deep thoughts on the universe for the night."
Jackson stroked his thumb over the back of her hand. "Good. I'm getting tired of focusing on the negative when, usually, things aren't really so bad."
"Things don't seem so bad right now," she agreed quietly. "I got great homemade food, a nice long bath, and now I've got a handsome gentleman to cuddle next to. My life hasn't been this nice in a long time."
"That's too bad. I think you should get this pretty much all the time."
Their banter could have gone back and forth for a while, but Mackenzie didn't have the patience to wait. Not with the memory of his earlier kiss, not with the way his voice made her heart pound. He wanted her as badly as she wanted him, and there was no reason not to give in. No reason at all.
So she leaned in and kissed him.
Chapter Eleven
Jackson knew Mackenzie was going to kiss him long before she pressed her lips to his, and there were about a million reasons why he should have stopped her. Not surprisingly, he couldn't think of a single one.
Her mouth was warm and dry, and it opened slightly as it touched his, the sensation dragging a low groan from his throat. He lifted a hand to her neck, relishing the fact that her skin was just as soft as it looked. Self-control and self-denial were beyond him, and he rolled to bring her body under his.
She hummed in pleasure, and her fingers slid into his hair. She held his mouth to hers as her tongue swept across his lower lip in teasing invitation before retreating again.
He groaned again and deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping the inside of her mouth, tasting and exploring. It was maddening, and desire built in him with shocking speed as he lowered one hand to her hip and encountered soft silk. If she'd have been wearing this damned scrap of nothing at his apartment, he wasn't sure what would have happened. He broke the kiss and whispered breathlessly, "I love this gown."
Her voice sounded just as breathless, and warm with invitation. "I was hoping you would. It's the only reason I let Nick buy it."