From the Shadows (A Shadow Chronicles Novel) (9 page)

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When Race and I both were spent, our foreheads touching as we fought to catch our breath, he disengaged us and gently set me down. I found that my legs were about as strong as a couple of gummy worms, and it was with careful steps that I maneuvered around him to finish my shower. He picked up the soap and washcloth as I reached for them, saying “Let me do that for you.”

I nodded and he reached around me, holding the washcloth under the cooling spray and then rubbing it vigorously against the bar of soap to lather it up.
He started with my neck and moved slowly downward, pausing when he reached my breasts to hold one in each hand. Just when I though he was about to do more than wash them, he moved along, taking the cloth to my arms, then my back, and then back around to my navel. Still rather sensitive from our lovemaking, when he reached between my legs and touched the soapy cloth to my sex I could not help but moan. His soft, almost sensual touch was sending little aftershocks of pleasure rippling through me. Race chuckled softly as I tilted my hips against his hand, then he laid a kiss on my shoulder and moved to my legs. The attention he paid to my skin as he washed me was as thorough as it was gentle and he didn’t miss a spot—not even the spaces between my toes.

As he stood from taking care of my feet, I snatched the washcloth from his grasp. Race looked at me, a smirk of challenge on his face. I grinned, turning my back to him briefly to wet and re-lather the washcloth.
I took my time with his torture as he had with mine, availing myself of the opportunity to study my old childhood crush in all his naked glory. Men weren’t particularly fond of being described as beautiful, but that’s what he was to me—a beautiful, exquisite example of masculinity. His sinewy musculature, upon closer inspection, was ideally suited for speed in much the same way as that of shifters in the feline Family. I wondered briefly if his build had something to do with his ability to become any animal he wished. I’d have to ask him about it. Right now, of course, I was more interested in teasing him, and as I knelt to wash his legs I impulsively planted a kiss on the left cheek of his perfect ass, and he looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. Having saved the best for last, when I stood I turned him to face me once more, then took his member in my hands and gave it its due…slowly. I knew my grin was wicked as he closed his eyes and groaned, and he braced his arm against the wall to keep steady.

“You’re a devious little minx,” he said when I finally let him off the hook.

“No, I’m a devious little dog,” I replied, and Race laughed again.

After rinsing ourselves thoroughly, we both got out and toweled off. I put on the sweats I had pilfered from his closet as he retrieved his razor from the medicine cabinet
, standing at the sink with his towel around his waist. I went out to the bed to remake it. All he had on it was a fitted sheet and a matching flat sheet, a common bed dressing amongst shifters, and though we hadn’t slept beneath the flat we’d still rumpled it pretty good. I had straightened the flat sheet and was fluffing the pillows when Race stuck his head out the bathroom door to see what I was doing.

“Jules, you didn’t have to do that,” he told me.

I turned to find him already half done with his task, the right side of his face still covered with white foam. “Race, if you remember my mother at all, you know she raised Mark and me to tidy our beds before we set about our business for the day—surely my brother complained about it more than once. The duty’s no different just because the bed I slept in wasn’t mine.”

Race shook his head and ducked back into the bathroom. I left him to his shaving and walked out into the kitchenette, opening the refrigerator with the intention of raiding it
—I was starving. I surveyed the contents of his fridge for a long moment, then the freezer, before turning to inspect his cabinets. I could hardly believe it, but I was so hungry I couldn’t think of what to eat—and it wasn’t as if he didn’t have food, as the contents of the fridge indicated he’d gone grocery shopping within the last couple of days. I just didn’t know where to start.

I was once again contemplating the offerings in the refrigerator when Race appeared, clad in a fitted gray t-shirt and jeans. His still-wet hair looked like he’d just run his fingers through it, and come to think of it, I couldn’t recall seeing a comb on the sink.

“What do you think, beard or clean-shaven?” he asked.

I
tilted my head to the side as I studied his smooth jaw, then said, “I admit that I like this better, but I don’t mind a little scruff now and then.”

“Cool. Means I won’t have to shave
every day,” Race replied, stepping into the kitchen. “And hey, you’re a guest here—a very special guest—so leave breakfast to me.”

I raised my eyebrow. He’d gone to make breakfast a while ago and hadn’t quite made it that far. He must have guessed what I was thinking
because he laughed as he stepped toward me. “Next time, if you don’t want breakfast to be late, don’t get naked until after you’ve eaten,” he quipped lightly, kissing the tip of my nose before taking my arm and drawing me away from the fridge. I allowed him to shoo me out of the kitchen and I sat in one of the chairs at his small dining table, a smirk on my face as I looked back at him.

“You’re assuming there will be a next time, pretty boy,” I said lightly.

Clearly he misunderstood the intent of my words, as he looked at me sharply, a cloud of concern in his eyes. “Jules, you don’t regret what we did, do you?”

I stood
and walked back to him. “No, of course not!” I said, taking one of his hands and giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I was kidding, honest. Race, even if there wasn’t the imprinting bond between us, I don’t think I could ever regret having given myself to you. I appreciate more than words can say that you’re thinking of my comfort with intimacy after being attacked like I was. That says a lot to me about the kind of man you are. But honey, you showed me such tenderness, such concern for that comfort that you did one of the best things you could have done for me—you reminded me of how it
should
be, how there should always be a choice. That’s not to say that it’ll be that easy between us every time—like I told you, I’m aware that I’ve still got a ways to go before I’m as fully recovered as a person can be after something like that. But you were so good to me that I am no longer afraid of the possibility of being intimate. And regret? The thought never crossed my mind.”

Race nodded slowly. “Okay. I just… Like I said before, I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.
We just met again after nearly twenty years, and you were… If I ever make a move that you’re not comfortable with…”

I silenced him by touching a finger to his lips. “Trust me, you’ll be the first to know. Please don’t worry. I’m good with what happened
in the shower. Not just because the bond drove us to it, but because you’re damn sexy and I wanted you. My wanting you at all was further proof that I’m on the mend, okay? But if you keep worrying over whether or not touching me or kissing me or wanting to make love to me is okay, it’s probably just gonna piss me off. I mean, I left home to get away from excessive concern for my well-being. The last person I want it from is you.”

Finally he relaxed. “Alright, I’ve been duly warned. Note to self: Keep your concern to yourself until Juliette asks for it.” He then shot me a lascivious look.
“So you think I’m damn sexy, huh?”

I slapped him playfully on the arm and laughed. “Oh shut up and make my breakfast. I’m starving.”

Race grinned. “Yes ma’am.”

After asking where his cups were so I could get myself something drink
—Race tried to do that for me, but I reminded him that I was perfectly capable of pouring a glass of orange juice—I went back to the table to watch as he gathered the ingredients for our breakfast. He informed me that he was making his mother’s “famous” breakfast casserole, which consisted of hash browns, eggs, diced red and green peppers, diced onions, ground sausage, and a lot of cheese. As he prepared the food it occurred to me that while he had shown a great amount of concern for me and my comfort level, I’d not really shown any for his.

“Race, are you okay?” I asked. “I mean, with all of this. Me being a
weredog, our imprinting on each other, Mark, vampires…”

He paused for a moment as if considering what to say, then glanced at me briefly before returning to mixing the ingredients. “Let me see if I can address all that
—in order, which will be simpler. You being a weredog is twofold: One, I wish you didn’t have to be, because being a shapeshifter means you have to be good at being a liar. It’s a hard life to live because you’re essentially living two lives. At least, that’s been my experience.”

I took a sip of my orange juice and nodded. “Yeah, that’s pretty much how it is,” I agreed.

“Two,” he continued, “I’m also glad that you are. You might only have one form but to me you’re still a shapeshifter. So it’s like you said, we’re not all that dissimilar. It’s probably nothing short of a miracle that I’ve somehow managed to go sixteen years without meeting at least a werekind, if not someone else who’s a chimaera like me. Had we not met again, who knows how long it would have been before I found out I’m not alone? You coming back into my life not only showed me I’m not, but I can learn so much from you about what I am.”

Race paused and turned to me
with a frown. “Wait, if you got your condition from your mother, how come she didn’t know about me? It’s not like we were never in the same place at the same time.”

He was right. Race had spent countless hours over at our house hanging out with Mark, and both he and his mother had shared dinner with us on many occasions. My family had also occasionally gone down the street to the
Covingtons’ house for dinner parties.

“Had she ever met your father, she would have known. It’s rare that a shifter doesn’t pass on the gene, which is why our kind generally eschews casual sex. But having no idea your father was a shifter she didn’t k
now to look for the signs, and werekind children smell like plain ol’ humans up until the first phase,” I explained. “I imagine the same was true for you.”

Nodding, he turned back to the food. “Actually, there’s another thing about you being a
weredog: we have something in common. I can share what I am with you and you can share what you are with me. We can talk about what it’s like to be what we are and not be afraid of scaring each other away.

“As for the imprinting… Honestly, I’m okay with that.
Actually, it’s kind of a relief to have my partner in life chosen for me, because now I don’t have to waste my time going through one girl after another hoping to find one I can trust with the truth. You being a shifter as well means you’re already aware of imprinting and shapeshifting, and I don’t have to worry you’re going to freak out and take off because I’m not entirely human.”

I scoffed. “Well, you’re in the minority there. A lot of the kids nowadays get all ‘I hate this, the choice should be mine.’ At least until they imprint themselves. Then they forget why the hell they bothered to hate the idea.”

“It’s obviously one of those things about what I am that I have no control over, so what would be the point in being pissed about it? I think I’d have felt the way I do even had I known about imprinting before it happened to me,” Race replied. “I mean, I get why some people think the choice should be theirs, but knowing the choice has already been made just makes everything so much simpler. You don’t have to go through one dead-end relationship after another. Just wait until it happens for you.”

I had to admit surprise at his outlook, but I was also pleased. Like Mark when Saphrona and I had explained about vampires and shifters to him, Race was absolutely remarkable about taking everything in stride.

“And the part where you’ve imprinted on me?” I pressed.

He looked at me again, this time with a smile on his face. “I don’t know if I can describe what it’s like for a guy to have a stunning, sexy woman for his girl. If I had friends they’d be jealous
, and I’d probably be punching their lights out for staring at you more than they should. The fact that my lifemate has turned out to be an old friend is a bonus.”

I felt a flush heat my face, I was so inordinately pleased to hear him describe me that way. Race put the glass baking dish with the mixed veggies, meat, and cheese into the oven and set the timer, then poured himself a glass of juice and joined me at the table. “What do you think about imprinting on me?” he asked, taking a drink of his juice.

I smiled. “Like you said, it’s a bonus that my lifemate happens to be an old friend of mine. I still have to get to know you the same way I would someone I didn’t know, because it
has
been a long time since we saw one another last, but I don’t feel as intimidated by that as I would if we were strangers. I actually had the biggest crush on you when we were kids. I know exactly when it started, too.”

“Oh really?” he queried with a raised eyebrow. “When was that?”

I took another drink and swallowed before I spoke. “A couple weeks before my ninth birthday. I came home from school one day to find the usual scene—you and Mark in front of the TV playing a game on the Super Nintendo. You looked up at me and smiled, then said to me, ‘Hey sweetie, how was your day?’ Of course, you went right back to the game without waiting for my answer, but it didn’t matter. I suddenly saw you as something other than my brother’s friend. Getting to know you all over again will just add to the image in my memory.”