Beauty Dates the Beast(24)

“Silver-lead alloy,” he said. “Stay in this room, understand? Get under the bed, and I’m going to coat the doorways with salt. I don’t want you moving until I come back.”

“Waaaait a moment,” I said, grabbing his arm before he could turn away. “Where are you going?”

His mouth was a grim line. “I need to find out what’s out there.”

“What’s the salt for?”

He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “It keeps evil spirits from crossing the threshold.”

“Evil spirits?” My voice rose to a near shriek. “Are you kidding me? Is that what this is?” I could deal with horny shapeshifters, or the occasional love-struck vampire who showed up at work, or a little sister who sprouted fur when she got nervous. Evil spirits were far out of the standard territory.

He was already turning down the hallway, pulling on his shirt. “I don’t know what this is, Bathsheba. That’s why you need to stay in the bedroom and lock the door. That’s the safest I can make you.”

Stay in this big house by myself, hiding under the bed while he ran off into the woods?

“Fuck that,” I said, outraged. “I’m going with you.” I chased after him, carrying the gun with careful hands as I crashed down the stairs. “I’m not staying here alone.”

“You are not going with me,” he said, turning back to look at me with a furious gaze. “It’s too dangerous.”

“How do you know I’m safer here? What if it’s not an evil spirit, and the salt doesn’t do anything but pickle my remains?”

He gave me an exasperated look. “Bathsheba—”

“I’m going with you.” I wouldn’t feel safe trotting through the woods with scary stuff out there, but at least Beau would be by my side.

He looked torn. “Bathsheba—”

“If you leave me here, I’m just going to follow you,” I said. “Classic stupid horror movie move. And you know bad things always happen to virgins in those.”

He gave me a grim smile. “Wait here and I’ll get you a coat and shoes.”


This was, quite possibly, the stupidest thing I’d ever done. I trudged through the snow in heavy boots, too big for my feet but tightly bound at the ankle, so they weren’t so terrible. Beau’s jacket hung off of me like some misfit Eskimo outfit, and he paced ahead of me in the snow in cat form.



It felt weird to be doing this.

Beau had kissed me before shapeshifting, a quick, possessive kiss. “I need to be in cat form for this, sweet thing. If you see anything in animal form other than me—be it deer, skunk, or cougar—you shoot it and think about the consequences later. If anyone else is on my land, they’re trespassing—so don’t hesitate to shoot.”

I nodded at that.

Beau in cougar form was a beautiful sight. His cat body was a long, lean buff beige covered in soft fur and thick cords of muscle. I hadn’t watched him shapechange—that seemed a little personal—but when he’d finished shifting, he’d moved back to my side, his feline body enormous and a little frightening until he’d licked my hand with his raspy tongue. After that, I’d lost my fear.

Beau had circled around me once and then headed into the woods. I’d followed as silently as possible. The thick woods were pretty from a distance—like from inside Beau’s cozy cabin. Snow had fallen, unusual for Texas, and the darkness was cold and dismal. I decided right then that I hated the woods.

It was eerily silent, as well. Every sound I made, every step that crunched into the snow, was overly loud. I winced every time I stepped on something, knowing that it was messing Beau up, but he simply paced through the woods on silent feet, his cat-nostrils working quietly, his breath whuffing.

We walked through the dark woods for a long time. My toes were icy, my fingers felt frozen, and the gun was ice-cold in my grip. The odd screams had stopped, replaced by a silence that was even creepier.

We’d seen the reddish orange lick of light from the window, and I assumed that was what we were heading for. Beau seemed to be leading us in a straight line, his steps slow and easy … until he suddenly dashed forward.

I raced to follow him, my feet crashing through the underbrush, curses stringing through my mind.

Beau had paused just ahead, and I followed after him like an awkward penguin. We stopped at a thick stand of trees, the moonlight peeking through the leaves overhead. The snow had been a thin blanket of white covering the ground, but here it was churned and dirty. At first I thought leaves were flung liberally through the snow, but the uneven splotches were too thick and too wet to be anything but blood. I swallowed hard.

Beau paced around the campsite, his nose to the ground, sniffing. His tail lashed angrily back and forth, and I kept a bit of a distance, gun in hand. Whatever had made those big bloody spots might come back.

Minutes later, Beau circled in on one spot, digging at the bloodied snow with a giant paw. He lifted his head and looked at me, eyes gleaming greenish yellow in the darkness.

“What? You want me to come over there?”

One slow, deliberate blink. Then another.

Since he couldn’t talk to me, I’d assumed that was a yes. I trudged over warily. “What is it?”

He tapped his paw at something in the snow, looking for all the world like a cat batting at a toy. I couldn’t make out what it was on the ground, so I reached down with my bare hands. My fingers closed over something cool and slightly damp, cylindrical and kind of firm but spongy. “I’m going to beat you on the head if this is something gross, you realize that, right?”

His tail flicked against my leg and then he moved into the woods again.

I followed after him, mind churning. What had happened here? Some animal making a kill in the woods? Or a shapeshifter leaving a message for us?

We circled around in the woods for a good while longer, until I was no longer frightened and just weary as hell. I dragged behind Beau as he raced through the night snow, pausing to sniff the ground and circle back once again.

Nothing else attacked. Nothing else happened. It was quiet. Too quiet, as they liked to say in the movies.

We stumbled into a clearing and I blearily realized that we’d somehow made it back to his house. “Thank God,” I said, and started forward.

Beau stopped in front of me, forcing me to pause. The cat looked up at me, flicking his tail in irritation. His head moved from side to side—was he shaking his head no at me?

“You want me to wait here?”

The deliberate double blink again. I sighed. “I’m going to assume that’s a yes,” I said, leaning against a nearby tree.

He nosed the hand holding the gun, his nose wet and cold. Then he disappeared into the house, tail flicking with agitation.

Right. He was reminding me to be alert. I lifted the gun and scanned my surroundings. If I saw anything, I was going to blow its head off.

Long minutes ticked by, and I glanced at the house, starting to get worried again. What was happening?

A shadow appeared in one of the windows and I sucked in a breath, pointing the gun toward it. But then Beau appeared, changed back to human form—naked again—and headed down the steps back to where I was hidden at the tree line. “Bathsheba, it’s safe to come inside now.”

I lowered the gun and went inside, studying my surroundings warily. Salt was all over the floor, covering the doorway. The only tracks I saw seemed to be Beau’s. I turned to look at him. “What’s going on?” My teeth chattered as I spoke; I hadn’t realized I was that cold. Or that scared.

He shut the front door, locked and dead-bolted it, then helped me with my coat, oblivious to his own nakedness. “I think whatever has been stalking you followed us out here.”

I realized I was still clutching the gun and handed it to him.

“You might want to give me that as well,” he said, gesturing at my fist.

I uncurled my hand and nearly threw up. The spongy cylinder was a finger, damp with blood and shredded at one end. “Oh, God,” I said, my stomach heaving, and flung it at him.

Beau snatched the object in midair and dropped it on the counter, then steered me toward the sink so I could have a nice, long vomit. And I did.

When I was done, I wiped my mouth and took the glass of water he offered. I pointedly looked away from where the finger lay. “So who does that belong to?”

“It smells like shifter,” he said, grim. “Wolf.”

I stiffened, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. “W-wolf?”

Wolf was not good. Wolf was not good at all.

Beau sniffed the finger. “Smells like Cash’s pack. Maybe Wade or one of his boys, if he’s back in town.”

“So what’s a werewolf’s finger doing on your property without the rest of him?” I said, gulping down water to try to calm my stomach. I knew what the wolf was doing around here.