Paxton: A Rogue Enforcers Novella Page 2

  “I was out running when a car hit me. All I remember after that is flying through the air. How come I don’t have any injuries?” I reply.

  I intensely watch him as he raises his hand and scrubs it across his face before he runs it through his hair. Even though he’s a stranger, I feel a connection of sorts to him, one I can’t understand. I feel no fear, just a calm acceptance, even though I’m obviously lying in his bed in clothes that aren’t mine.

  “Okay, so I need you to keep an open mind.” His hesitancy has my nerves ready to flare up in an anxiety attack. I deeply breathe in and out, making sure to count and steady myself before I begin the interrogation of this yummy stranger.

  “Keep an open mind about what?”

  He sighs and I can see that whatever he’s about to say is going to be life-altering. “Alright, let me get this all out before you ask any questions,” he replies. “Humans are unaware of this because of the laws that shifters follow. When you got hit by the car, I heard you yell and ran to see what was going on. I found you lifeless in the ditch near the path you were running. You were severely injured; enough so that you were dying. My panther recognized that you were my mate, so I bonded with you to save your life.”

  Did he? Did he just say mate? This is impossible! I’ve read paranormal romance before and know that shifters don’t exist in the real world. Maybe this man has been injured too?

  I know my jaw is wide open. I can’t comprehend the words he’s just spoken. Shifters? Panthers? Mate? Bonding? I’m not exactly sure where the hell I need to start but first things first, I suppose. “What does bonding mean?” I remember the word from my readings, but I can’t seem to remember the definition those authors provided.

  “I, uh, I bit you when my panther pointed out that you were my true mate.” He has a satisfied smile on his face which causes my anger to rise.

  “You bit me! Are you insane?” Now my hands are running across my body to see if I can feel anything. My mind starts whirling with thoughts of rabid animals and rabies shots.

  “It’s up on your shoulder near your neck,” he states helpfully. My hand reaches up and I feel the faintest raising of skin where my shoulder and neck meet. There are two perfectly formed puncture marks and my body begins to vibrate.

  “I’m obviously in a coma and having a weird out-of-body dream or some shit,” I mutter. My voice is barely over a whisper as I struggle to comprehend what it is he is saying to me. Closing my eyes, I pinch my arm but instantly feel the pain assuring me that I’m not in a sleeping type state.

  “No coma, Landry. It’s all real.”

  “You heard me?” Did I say that out loud? I’m usually really good about keeping thoughts to myself. I’m so confused.

  “Yeah, that’s one of the plus sides of being a panther. Advanced hearing, vision, speed. You’ll have all that as well.” Good, the speed will come in handy when I go to escape the madness that is this Paxton character. He’s got a screw loose somewhere and I’m not a fix-it type girl.

  Trust him, that voice inside says. Now it feels as if something is pacing inside of me. I leap out of bed and begin looking around for who was speaking. I know there’s someone else there; there has to be.

  “A panther? Like a big cat or something?” Lord, I’m trying to wrap my brain around this but it’s almost too surreal. I begin pacing the room, giving him a narrow-eyed glare every few seconds.

  He grins at me and I see a dimple pop out on his cheek. Looking him up and down, I can see that if shifters were real, he would likely be a cat. He’s tall but lithe, and while I can see the muscles in his arms, chest and legs, he’s not huge like a bodybuilder. Why am I checking out his stature? I couldn’t care less what his physique is. Right?

  No. Mate is delicious I hear inside of my head again.

  “Stop that!” I holler out.

  “What? Stop what? I didn’t do anything,” he defends.

  “Not you,” I moan out as I grab my head. “This happened once before. The voice used to talk to me when I was younger. They put me on meds thinking that I had schizophrenia or something. I don’t!” I rush out to assure him I’m not going to lose it and need to be medicated or anything. “It’s just, why is she back?”

  “She? She who? Who’s talking to you, who’s hurting you?” he roars out.

  “Are you sure you’re not part lion?” I ask, placing my hands on my hips.

  “Nope. No lion here,” he spits out as if the thought disgusts him.

  “Are you prejudiced against lions?” I inquire.

  “Ye-no,” he answers confused; as if he’s not sure what the politically correct answer should be.

  “Um-hmm,” I hum.

  “Let’s get back to this voice.” His demanding tone should turn me off, instead it has my panties soaking wet. I sit back on the bed and cross my legs; I’m not sure if it’s to alleviate the ache, or if it’s because he’s sniffing the air.

  “When I was a little girl, I would hear a voice inside my head. The caretakers at the orphanage thought I had an imaginary friend at first which is apparently normal for children, but when it continued, they sent me to a doctor. The doctor put me on medicine, and I stopped hearing the voice.”

  “Are you a shifter?” His question catches me off guard and has me rearing back. Not out of fear, but out of the thought that maybe, just maybe, he’s not mental and there are actually shifters who live among us. He begins to pace the room, pulling at his hair, and mumbling about how this shouldn’t be happening yet. Yet? What the hell have I gotten myself into?

  “I-I don’t think so.” I try to grab any scrap of information lodged in my head that was given to me about my birth. Nothing. Zilch. Nada.

  “Were your parents shifters?” His question brings me out of my headspace concerning the past and back to the present. He’s still pacing and muttering and appears agitated, like something hasn’t gone according to plan or something. Pushing that thought aside, I continue. I don’t know much, but somehow, I instinctively know that whatever I share is pertinent.

  “I grew up in an orphanage. The people there told me that I was found outside a fire department. I have no clue who my parents are,” I admit, my head hanging. “They, whoever they were that left me, didn’t leave anything on the note except my first name.” It’s hard to tell a perfect stranger about how unwanted I’ve been in my life. “Why are you acting like you are? Pacing and shit?”

  “Because you’re not acting like you’re supposed to,” he replies. “You usually don’t hear your animal until you’ve gone through your first shift. At least, that’s what I’ve heard from my ma, who told me a story about a human that’d been turned. But since you’re apparently already a shifter, I guess that’s why you hear her. I don’t fucking know and there’s no one I know who can help answer that question.” That thought seems to upset him further and his eyes begin to glow.

  “Well, I sure as hell don’t know either, Paxton. To tell you the truth, this is all a bit too much for me.”

  “You were out running; do you do that regularly?” he questions.

  “I’ve always liked to run, even as a child it always seemed to help clear my head. Right now, I’m training for a marathon.”

  “Are you fast?” he persists. His eyes are still glowing, just not as bright as before, and I can feel the difference in the energy that’s flowing throughout the room. It’s almost a tangible thing, but I find I’m not scared.

  “I usually win the races in my age bracket. Why?” I feel like I’m being set up to fail where this answer is concerned.

  “Because, and this is purely a guess on my part, I think that’s how your panther has survived all these years being unable to shift. You had no one to teach and guide you in that part of your being. But I’m here now and you’re my mate. I’ll teach you.”

  “Lovely.” I know I probably sound a bit sarcastic and snarky, but he’s literally turned what I know about myself completely upside down.

  He ignores my sass and grinning, asks, “How did you get the last name Welch?” What’s with the third degree? I don’t know much and am starting to feel hemmed in. I thought I was the one interrogating him, now the tables have turned and I’m not sure how much I like it.

  “That was the street I was found on,” I tell him. Why am I telling him all of this? It’s like I can’t help myself and the words are slipping out before I have time to come up with an appropriate answer. “Wait a minute, how do you know my name?”

  I hated that doctor, the voice growls, startling me.

  “Uh, the voice inside just told me they hated the doctor,” I say.

  “Sounds like your parents or maybe just one of them was a shifter, but whatever they gave you suppressed that side of you. As for how I know your name, I found your ID wallet.” Could this be true? Wait a minute! My wallet was in my bra. I’m mortified, what did he do while I was sleeping?

  “Why did it come out now? And...did you touch me without my knowledge or approval?” I voice my inner questions out loud.

  Because we found our mate, the voice states as if it should be common sense or something.

  “She says because we found our mate.” I see the gleam in his eyes and my body responds in kind. When I see his nostrils flare, I realize that he can probably smell my arousal and I feel the blush steal over my face. Great, just great. I’m a walking, talking, body of kitty nip.

  “You did,” he admits. “Well, I found you. To answer your question, it fell out and I picked it up. I didn’t go reaching into your clothes. In fact, even though I changed you into something that wasn’t torn and ripped, I didn’t take any advantages. You weren’t awake to ask, and I wasn’t leaving my mate in torn, bloody clothing. So, do you have any questions?”

  Questions? Jesus, I do
n’t know where to start.

  Just ask him, he’ll tell you the truth. If he doesn’t, you’ll be able to tell.

  “How? How can I tell?” I ask aloud.

  “What do you need to tell?” he returns.

  “The voice said I will be able to tell if you don’t tell me the truth. Is that true?”

  “Your panther is correct. She’s a part of you, Landry, and it sounds like she’s always been there. Let me ask you this—do your nails grow long and strong? Does your hair always look shiny and healthy? Have you ever instinctively sensed danger looming around you and removed yourself from the situation? How about your sense of smell? Does it seem more pronounced than everyone else’s?” His twenty questions make me stop and think.

  I start nodding as he continues. “Yes, to all of it. When I was in college, some of my friends and I went to a party. We were having a good time and then I got that feeling that something wasn’t right with one of the drinks that my best friend was given. I wouldn’t let her drink it but made her bring it with her and we left. Another friend took it to the chem lab and tested it and it was full of Rohypnol that would’ve knocked my friend out.” She could’ve been raped or murdered that night if my sense of smell had not been as strong as it is.

  “Holy shit, you probably saved her from being assaulted or something.” I was just thinking that! It’s like we’re connected; using one brain as one. United, bonded...wow! How freaky is this?

  “Yeah. After that, I went with them to all the parties and ‘sniffed’ their drinks so they’d know if it was okay to drink or not.”

  “What about you?”

  “Drinking has never been a big thing for me. I will say that I can outdrink anyone.” Yeah, like that’s something to be proud of!

  “Most shifters aren’t able to get drunk. It’s our high metabolism. Speaking of which, I need to feed you.”

  “I could eat,” I admit when my stomach starts to growl. He grins at me and holds his hand out. Instinctively, as if we’ve done it for years, I lace my fingers in his and stand up. I can feel the heat from his body and hear the purring inside grow louder as a different scent crosses my nose. When I hear a growling rumble come from Paxton, I look up and notice his nostrils are flared.

  “You need to stop, Landry.”

  “Stop what?” I ask. I mean all I’m doing is walking beside him. I can’t help that he’s hot as hell and I’m all kinds of attracted, can I?

  “Even though you’ve healed from the accident, we can’t act on the desire we both obviously feel.”

  I raise my eyebrow at his words. “How do you know?” I suspect he smells it, but I want it confirmed, so I ask.

  “Because I can smell it and I know you can smell mine as well. It’s making my panther crazy; he wants me to fully mate with you right now.”

  I stop moving, his words resonating in my head. The purring inside intensifies and is now so loud I feel as if I have a jet engine inside.

  Mate delicious. We must have him.

  “We don’t know each other!”

  “We’re mates; we’ve got the rest of our lives to get to know one another,” he replies.

  Paxton

  The look she gives me after I say that has me biting back a grin. “Landry, nothing’s gonna happen until you say so, okay?” I feel my panther swipe at my insides and I stifle a grunt; he can be a prick at times, and apparently, he’s not feeling my declaration.

  “Um, okay,” she whispers. I can smell her desire and see the physical evidence as her nipples are so hard, they’re protruding through the t-shirt I put on her like she doesn’t have a bra on. “I don’t know what to do with all of this, Paxton. I mean, up until a few minutes ago, I thought that shifters were just something I enjoyed reading about, y’know?”

  “It’s okay. I honestly never thought I’d have a mate, let alone my true mate. So, we’ll figure this out together, okay? I just need to give you a heads-up, though. We can’t be separated for too long or we’ll get physically ill. If we go beyond a certain timeframe, we’ll become feral.”

  “Well, I don’t want that, so I guess you’re stuck with me,” she teases.

  Our mate is funny. I like her.

  “Not thinking that’s gonna be a hardship, Landry,” I tell her as I mentally agree with my panther. She is funny and it seems like she rolls with the punches pretty well. Although – there’s a hint of sadness around her eyes that bothers me and even though she’s teasing and laughing, it’s as if she’s still on guard. My goal, however, is to break that wall down. She’s going to be my mate in every way, shape, and form.

  Paxton

  We walk into the kitchen and I lead her to the table. It’s not like the cabin is huge, not by a longshot. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen, a living room. And the second bedroom currently houses all my workout equipment and computer shit, so Landry will have to share my bed. Not that you’ll ever hear me complaining about this problematic situation, hers not mine.

  This makes me happy, my panther says.

  “Have a seat and I’ll fix something for us,” I say. I hate letting her hand go and it dawns on me that even though we haven’t fully bonded and won’t until we have sex, we’re already connected in a way that I don’t ever want to lose.

  “So, do we eat different things?” she asks. I stop and think about her question; we eat normal food when in our human form, but we have an accelerated metabolism, so our caloric intake is higher than normal.

  “Not really. We can eat more because we’ve got a high metabolism, something you probably have noticed previously, even with your panther suppressed. When we’re in our cat form, we’ll eat anything we catch raw, of course, but at home, it’s cooked.” I see the face she makes when I say ‘raw’ and can’t help but laugh. “Baby, it won’t feel unnatural when we’re hunting, trust me, okay?”

  She is handling this well. I think we should have the mating talk. I want cubs.

  I sigh because now that we have a mate, my panther is going to be insistent that we push for cubs and that’s something I want to make sure that Landry is one hundred percent on board with before I try to make it a reality.

  “Why are you sighing? This is all too much for you, isn’t it? I should probably go,” she says, standing from the chair she’s been sitting in while I’ve been cooking.

  “What? No, my panther is being a bit pushy about something and I don’t know how else to tell him that he has to be patient.”

  “What’s he pushing you about?” She’s genuinely curious so I give her an honest answer.

  “He wants cubs,” I tell her.

  “He wants the Cubs to do what?” It dawns on me that she thinks I’m talking about the baseball team and I chuckle.

  “Not the Chicago Cubs, baby. My panther wants us to have cubs. You know, babies?”

  “What?” Her voice rises three octaves at my words and there’s a look of horror and fear on her face.

  I crouch in front of her and take her hands in mine. “Landry, why are you scared about having cubs? Is it because of your own past?”

  She keeps her eyes averted but replies, “I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that I’m a shifter, we’re now mates, and my life has changed, and your panther is ready to hop to the next phase. Talk about a wham-bam situation. Plus, and this is important, I don’t know my parentage. What if I’m not fully panther but mixed with something else? Wouldn’t that screw things up?”

  “I don’t scent anything else but panther on you, Landry, but we won’t know for sure until you shift for the first time. As for the other, my panther can just be patient. We’ve waited all our lives for you so we can wait until you’re ready.” I feel my panther roam restlessly at my words before he finally flops down with a huffing sound.

  Fine. We will wait, but we want it noted that we will do everything to make it happen sooner rather than later.

  Oh jeez, this means I need to be on top of things; otherwise, my panther will try to manipulate the situation so that he gets what he wants.

  “How long before I shift?” she asks, breaking me free from my musings.

  “No clue, since your animal was suppressed for so long. I need to figure out who I can call to see if they can help us out.” I wonder if Colton knows? Maybe Maverick? Or Alarik? Guess I can start with Colton and work my way through the others. Someone’s bound to know.