Call Me Miz (2 page)

Milo flattened the patties one more time, then scooped them onto the bun he had waiting. Three burgers stacked high, a slab of cheese, dill pickles and a squirt of mustard. He handed it to her.

“And a beer,” she said, taking a bite.

“One beer coming up.” He nodded and went to the bar on the other side of the wall to get it for her. Miz admired his backside as he moved. Her libido was in full throttle after her afternoon adventure. She sighed. Milo was a happily engaged man and his significant other was one of the few women Miz counted as friend.

As soon as he returned, she stood, gathering her food to leave.

“No call to run off, Miz. It’s quiet tonight. Some of the men got juiced up after the wreck today, but I told ’em to get out before they reached the break-the-furniture stage.”

She hesitated then sat back down and waited. Milo usually had a point to his conversations if she had the patience to listen.

“Strangers in town. Both have been in and out. One of ’em’s a African American.” The way Milo pronounced the words, they came out
A-freakin’ American
, but she got the point.

“Really?” Miz snorted, picturing the moment of quiet that would have greeted the black man when he’d walked into the bar. “They together?”

“Nah. The black guy’s staying in Shep Buchanan’s cabin. Says he’s on vacation. Here to do some fly fishing. The other one’s another representative from that lumber company that keeps trying to buy timbering rights up here.”

She tipped back her head, letting the swallow of beer coat her throat and anesthetize the burn. Jobs would come to the area if the lumber company started cutting. But Hank Wyatt owned the land and it wasn’t going to happen. There was a lot of discord among the locals these days. Her voice was husky when she asked, “Hank know he’s here?”

Milo grunted. “Two crickets don’t jump in this holler without Hank knowing it. He came in while the guy was here.”

“Looking for a fight?”

“Didn’t seem like it. He drank a beer, ordered some food and paid. Talked to the lumberman for a bit and then left. It was all civilized.” Milo switched off the grill and when the outer door opened and closed, he returned to the bar.

Whoever had been drinking the last round must have left because after a moment, the lights flicked off and Milo returned to the kitchen, untying his apron. When he set it aside, she saw the bulge tenting his jeans. Her damned pheromones were beaming and Milo was reacting to the invitation.

“You need anything, Miz?” His gaze was hungry.

Dammit, she’d known better than to linger. She put her thumb in the top of the bottle, making a popping sound when she flipped it out. “Hear that?” she asked, glaring at Milo.

“Yep,” he laughed, shaking his head as if to clear it.

“That’s me pulling your head out of your ass. Jenny deserves better than having you shag me, even if it’s for medicinal purposes. But thanks for the offer.”

She finished her burger in a gulp and headed for the door.

He followed her, leaning against the doorjamb and talking as she pulled on her helmet. “Donnie will be fine. Anybody with a lick of sense knows you did him no harm. Hell, he’s alive because of you.”

She flipped the switch and the Harley rumbled its power between her thighs. She yelled over her shoulder as she turned for home. “Too bad there’s not many with sense around here.” She roared down the road, throttle wide open, enjoying the cool night air as it fanned her hot cheeks.

Downshifting, she brought up her lights when she turned off the main road at the head of the holler. A mile in, she turned again, climbing up the steep slope, bouncing over the ruts as she neared her piece of land. The road was pure hell, but it kept most from trespassing, which outweighed its inconvenience.

She didn’t let herself think about Milo’s offer until she’d parked and entered the house. Then the full rush of hot need flooded every cell in her body and she ached, gritting her teeth to keep her grinding want silent. It was a bitch of a side effect since her gift scared away any serious lover she might find.

Shower, fuck herself with her plastic dick and chill. She knew the drill. What a life. There would have been a time when Milo’s offer would have been accepted in a heartbeat. She closed her eyes and remembered for just a moment.
That way lies insanity.

Milo had been a friend with side benefits for years. Then he’d met Jenny and that game ended. Now and again, Miz weakened and let her hunger show. Now and again, he offered what they both knew was wrong, wrong, wrong. So far, they hadn’t hit the skids at the same time. Nevertheless, her womb tightened, longingly.

Chapter Two

The big cat crouching in the tree looked at the setting with approval. His man, on the other hand, thought any woman who lived alone this far out in the boondocks must have some loose screws in her head.

He had a bird’s-eye view of her house through her uncovered windows. When she walked through her rooms, naked as the day was long, he settled in to enjoy himself. She was toned, her muscles showing but sculpted and discreet. Her legs were long, her ass high and rounded, her breasts two handfuls sized to make a man purr. The jaguar licked his lips, staring. Inside, Thomas Hunter did too.

He hadn’t paid any attention to her hair earlier in the day. She’d had it bound tight in a coil at her nape. Loose and flowing, it was a swath of shiny auburn hanging down her back. Unless she spent time naked in the sun, and Thomas wasn’t ruling that out, she was a mix of something other than the local Scots-Irish breed.

Spanish, maybe.
Not brown, not even cinnamon. A dusky taupe that pleased him. He was disappointed when she pulled on sweats and a loose tee, covering all that glory from his sight.

He was supposed to be chasing wolves but he was more interested in the sleek prey inside. Fascinated, he watched her work through a set of exercises that would have made a linebacker scream mercy.

Sweating so much her shirt plastered her skin and outlined her nipples, she followed with a round of shadowboxing, striking the air with enough power to send a grown man flying. It didn’t surprise Thomas at all when she finished up her routine by dragging a punching bag from the corner.

Once she’d hung it from the ceiling hook, he watched another half hour of jarring blows and sweat flying
. Damn assholes at the grocery stop were lucky she didn’t kick their heads off.
Finally she quit exercising and sank to the mat. Thomas could almost feel her stress when she wrapped her arms around her knees in a pensive pose.

As if angry, she stood and shoved her pants down, stepping out of them. The shirt came off next. Beast and man tensed in voyeuristic anticipation when she marched to the wall shelving and lifted down a box holding a dildo. Both growled in disapproval at the
pale
pretend dick in her hand.

She wielded it as if it was offensive to her, not a tool of pleasure. Without enthusiasm, she anchored the thick base to a bracket on the wall and impaled herself. No lube, no foreplay, just a solid thrust that filled her pussy in one slide.

Thomas watched her pump and grind as she straddled the fake cock and fucked herself. It was anguish, not pleasure that he witnessed. She made all the right moves, swiveling her hips, cupping her breasts, but her increasing frustration distressed Thomas. He wanted to leap from the tree and replace the toy with a real man.

She worked as hard at the fucking as she had at the boxing, thrusting methodically on the cock, chasing an elusive orgasm. When she put the flat of her hands on the wall and bumped her hips in an increasingly fast rhythm, Thomas coiled, urging her on, panting in frustration.

Abruptly she dismounted, turned and remounted, this time sliding in from behind. One hand went to a breast, the other to her pussy.
Yes, yes, yes
—for an unusual moment cat and man became one as they watched her fingers play, nipple pulled taut, pinched between finger and thumb, hips rotating as she stroked her clit and pulled on it too. Pulsing heat cascaded over the entire area, swamping Thomas where he crouched. So close. He groaned and without thought shifted from jaguar to man.
Let me help you, sweetheart.
Mindlessly he gripped his cock and pumped, matching his strokes to hers.
Come on, baby, you can do it. Give it to me.

His hand burned as he gripped his dick and pumped faster and harder, stroking himself and matching her frenzy. He wanted her skin next to his, her legs pressed on either side of his thighs. It didn’t matter. Without touching her, Thomas rode her to completion, tuned exactly to every nuance of her movements.

Cold sweat broke over his body and his jaguar teeth elongated, needing to sink into her neck and leave his mark. He couldn’t suppress his growl of lust. She stiffened, her back arched and as he watched, she ground her thumb against her clit, sweet bliss washing from her and hitting him at the same time. His cum shot from him in hard, jerking spatters and his cat screamed in ecstasy.

Jesus.
Thomas slumped on the tree limb and shifted back to jaguar. He was uncertain if he’d actually yowled out his pleasure. It didn’t matter. He was sure she hadn’t heard, caught up in her own release as she’d been.

He focused on the woman and didn’t so much as twitch a whisker, but suddenly her head came up and she rose. As if sensing his presence, she walked onto the porch in her bare feet and looked around the clearing.
Nothing but us cats up here, sweetheart.

When she went back inside, she pulled her curtains closed and the show was over. He waited hopefully for her to emerge naked from the back door and maybe round out her exercise with a mile or so run. When it didn’t happen, he leapt to a higher bough, ready to use it as a platform to the next tree in line. He had work waiting before he returned to his cabin. He was in mid-flight to the next tree when he heard her moan and almost fell on his ass. He’d be damned if he didn’t recognize the soft sounds of a woman in the throes of an orgasm.

He cocked his ears, listening for more, but heard only the creatures in the woods and the sounds of night. Her cabin was surprisingly close to where he was staying if you didn’t mind traveling through brush and dark forest. Buchanan’s place sat near the top of the ridge facing hers. Tense himself, he left the aerie above and came to ground, letting his cat loose.

He traveled fast, making short work of the distance by climbing to the canopy of boughs and leaves. As soon as he landed in the tree next to the cabin he scented human. Thomas fought his beast, who wanted to find the intruder and rend him apart.

Thomas’ control was in question. Supposedly he’d been sent here to find the werewolves. It was more likely that Shep decided he needed time out. He leapt to the porch, prowling over the wooden surface, sniffing the boards. The reek of urine hit him where the man had pissed on the cabin door.

The big jaguar stared into the dark shadows of the forest and flashed fangs. Thomas stifled his scream of challenge. Following the pungent smell of the human predator, he bounded off the porch and stayed on the ground, his dappled pelt blending with the shadows. His beast wanted to take to the trees. But Thomas stayed low—and that was a mistake.

He was close to the narrow road winding to the all-night store when he hit a patch reeking of the human male. His cat screamed a warning but Thomas prowled closer, following the trail.

The scent led toward the road and to the trap. The jaguar snarled his rage
as silver jaws closed around him, crushing his body. He went down. The poison of the precious metal flooded him and prevented his change. It was a simple method of killing shifters. Catch them in silver and watch them die in beast form. The jaguar struggled against the ninety pounds of pressure gripping his ribs, crushing the air from him. Thomas writhed inside his jaguar as they both slowly suffocated.

He was almost unconscious when the ground vibrated under his head and alerted him that someone approached from the road.
Here to finish the job.
He shuddered, waiting for death, but his final thoughts incongruously drifted to the red-haired biker.

Miz tingled with awareness. There was no way she’d sleep tonight. She stretched, kept her eyes closed, and willed herself to calm down. It didn’t work. She shivered, feeling as if kitten paws scampered across her skin.

Dammit, she had back-to-back appointments tomorrow and she needed to rest.
Fuck it.
Coffee time. Might as well enjoy the rest of the night and watch the sun rise from the porch.

She ground the Colombian beans, measured them into the basket and added enough water to make six cups, flipping the switch to “on” as she decided to shower. Dried, dressed and thirsty, she went to the kitchen as the automatic brewer burped gently one last time. She patted it affectionately.
Best investment I ever made.
Her plan started to unravel when she tipped the coffee creamer over her cup and got no more than a sprinkle of powder.

Dammit, I hit Eldon with the jar in the parking lot.
She tipped milk into the coffee and frowned. The brew lost its allure and she carried it with her to the window, sipping it as she looked across the yard to the trees. Something had been out there watching her earlier—maybe a bear.

The densely treed area remained in most parts virgin timber. Occasionally Hank Wyatt brought a team of men through to cut back new growth that crowded the old. The woods remained full of predators because the town restricted hunting to once a year, and then only locals were allowed out with guns.

Miz scowled. She didn’t like the woods. She lived here because her family always had. But it didn’t make her feel cozy being hemmed in by trees and mountains and wild animals. Earlier, she hadn’t paid attention to the feeling of being watched. She’d been too busy throwing off the effects of the deep healing she’d performed on Donnie and still ramped up over the fight at the store. But now she felt a twist of anxiety in her gut. She stepped outside and scanned the trees.

She’d made no new enemies last night, but her old ones were alive and well. Miz smiled, feeling again the pleasure she’d gotten from lobbing the creamer at Eldon Brown and hitting him in the head. Her muscles tensed, wanting to do it again. She sipped the milk-laced brew and grimaced, emptying the cup over the porch rail.

“I’ll be damned if that pig keeps me from having a decent cup of coffee.”

Miz mounted her bike and took off, bound for 3-G’s, the town’s 24-hour gas, grocery and grill. This time of night the kitchen was closed, but she’d replace her coffee creamer and return home in time to watch the sun rise.

The sound of the Harley’s motor throbbed in the otherwise still night when Miz rounded the curve toward the store. It was a full moon, so her lights were almost unnecessary. She inhaled the fresh air and…
Dammit—no.

When the gift that cursed her kicked in, her opinion didn’t count. She was already slowing, listening to the silent cry of misery calling to her.

She wanted to gnash her teeth and snarl, which was a pathetic attitude for a healer. She didn’t go willingly, but by damn she went. She parked, climbed down the sloping drainage ditch that separated the road from the trees and entered the forest. The light of the moon was blotted out by the hovering branches and she shuddered, switching on her flashlight.

“Oh goddesses of moonlight, healing, crop growing, fish swimming, trees, air, sky, earth and any other frigging thing you want to claim—hear me. If my ass gets eaten by a goddamned bear out here, you’ll be sorry.”

Her stupid threat had Miz hoping the deities up there were asleep.
Damn this shit.
It better be the fucking president of the United States I’m saving.
The flashlight she gripped in her hand now pointed like a divining rod that had just sensed an underground stream.

Oh for God’s sake.
Miz looked down at the animal tucked deeply in shadows. Had the light from her flashlight not reflected off a glint of metal, she might have missed the big cat that lay suffering.

His fierce gaze threatened death to her if she came closer. “Well as to that, boyo, it’s not me who needs help.” She talked softly, at the same time walking around the animal caught in a
conibear trap.
She squatted on her heels and touched the huge back paw. The cat flinched under her touch, flexing its claws, retracting them then spreading them again.

She studied the beast. It was a big male of an indeterminate species. Not something she would have thought to find in West Virginia. On the other hand, what did she know? The fact was, unless she freed the animal soon, the lethal jaws clamping him in a body grip were going to squeeze the life from him. “Nope, can’t let that happen.”

The beast’s chest heaved, fighting for air. She ripped the strings from her boots and squatted next to the trap spring.

“Got your ass caught tonight, didn’t you?” She laid her hand on his hip and talked shit in a soothing voice.

“I just want it understood after I rescue your sorry hide, you’ll leave me alone.” She met his gaze. He seemed intelligent. “You look smart enough. I’m surprised you—” A low rumble interrupted her nervous chatter.

She used her boot strings to tie off the top spring, pulled the string through the bottom spring loop and stood,
hauling up on the shoestring until the spring was compressed and both sides met. The cat’s ribs were released from pressure. He grunted and twitched his tail angrily as he tried to stand. But he collapsed weakly to the ground, staring in misery at her.

“Well, mister. Misery’s my specialty. Let me have a look.” She murmured reassurances as she squatted over him, pressing her hands against his chest.
Whoa.
Gray streaks of death swirled through the cat’s lungs, continuing to block his breathing.

“What the fuck is that? Some sonovabitch poisoned you too?” What she was seeing inside the cat didn’t make a lot of sense. “Doesn’t matter. Whoever did it needs to have his ass kicked from here to Sunday.”