Unbound: Shifters Forever Worlds(9)

She took a step back, as if two feet between them wasn’t enough. “Dane.” Her voice was laced with vitriol. She gave him a tightlipped smile. “I’m here to see Mr. Shelby.”

Dane stepped to the side to allow her space to pass.

She walked past him, her pulse beating a fast tempo.

His own heartbeat settled in on hers and matched it,

He inhaled deeply, sucking in as much air as he could.

Big mistake.

Big f*cking mistake.

What he pulled in was her essence. The scent of her hatred for him. And something else. Another emotion lingered in her scent — the aroma of her desire.

She might hate him, but a part of her still wanted him.

His snow leopard’s purring sounds turned to chuffs of satisfaction.

Yeah, well, just because you think her ivy still wants you, don’t forget her human hates us, he reminded his leopard.

His leopard snarled an argument back.

Dane shut him out, not willing to pay attention to his feline anymore. It would be folly to do so. He could tell from her expression and her scent that there was no hope for redemption. She was bound and determined to hate him.

That didn’t stop him from appraising her curves as she walked away. The way her hips swayed under the sundress, the way the fabric clung to every curve, reminding him of the heavenly body beneath the material. A body that was meant for him.

Used to be meant for me, he reminded himself. Used to be.

He heaved a sigh out as quietly as he could. A large exhaled whoosh of breath that pushed his hope out along with the lungful he’d taken in.

Now to find out what the hell my uncle had in mind when he had that will drawn up.

And to see how Glory fit in.





* * *



Glory’s hands were shaking. Her heart palpitated in her chest. Her body was covered in a film of sweat.

He’s here. He’s actually here.

And he had the nerve to look her in the eye and not say a word of apology for breaking her heart. For not being there for her when she lost her family.

How could he look so good? How could he possibly look better than he did on the screen? The rugged planes of his face that had haunted her nights had nothing on the real thing. The way his eyes gleamed, the flash of blue in the gray depths was something she’d never seen on the camera. The only time she’d seen that was when they were together.

The blue of his snow leopard. She knew what the leopard was doing. It was reaching for her ivy. It was trying to reestablish the bond they’d had once.

As soon as her ivy had tried to respond, she’d shoved her ivy back as far into the recesses of her mind as she could. There would be none of that.

His chest was wider. His torso narrowed to a V that showcased abs, even beneath a black T-shirt. Dane’s muscle pushed the sleeves out, forcing the fabric to wrap around flesh banded with steel.

Where is Mr. Shelby?

She’d be damned if she was going to ask Dane. She’d find out on her own. She had nothing to say to him.

“Mr. Shelby?”

“In here, dear.” The older man’s voice called to her from the direction of the breakfast nook she’d sat at with Dane when they’d been younger.

Keeping her eyes focus in front of her, not looking around, not wanting to sink into a vat of memories, she made a beeline for his voice.

She strode into the room and found him rising to his feet.

Mr. Shelby held out his hand. “I’m glad you could make it.

She shook it, noting that his was warm and her own must have felt icy. As icy as the coating that surrounded her heart.

“I’m not sure why I had to be here.”

“Well, it’s the conditions of Frank Forester’s will. And I’d like to know that I did my best to fulfill his final wishes.”

She nodded, but the whole time her senses were tuned into Dane, behind her, approaching, his footsteps silent in his snow leopard stealthy way. She made to take a seat but found the chair being held out for her by Dane.

Glory had one brief second to weigh if she wanted to be a bitch and move to another chair or fake graciousness and accept his offer for a seat.

That’s all I’m accepting.

His fingertips brushed her arm as he pushed the chair in. She jerked away reflexively. Her skin was on fire with the heat a thousand suns where his flesh touched hers. Glory ran her fingers through her hair, feeling that it must be springing into the curls it was wont to yield to when she didn’t indulge herself in hours of taming the auburn mass.

She studied the table’s woodgrain pattern while she waited for Mr. Shelby to say his piece. Then she could get the hell out of here. She had no business being here. She didn’t know what he meant by “it’s in your best interest.” But she did want to know.

A cup of coffee was set in front of her. She nodded her thanks, recognizing Dane’s fingers. His hand. The scar over the knuckle on the middle finger. They’d been together when he’d earned that scar.

He’d cut his hand when he’d punched a tree in anger, on a different day, the day he’d told her was his father’s birthday. She knew that scar too well. She’d been the one who’d doctored it.

“So,” Dane’s voice huskier than it had been when they’d seen each other last. It was deeper even than it was in the movies where he played an action figure, super spy type. “What was it that my uncle wanted by having this…”