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A protest of some sort is taking place a little distance away from the dolphin sign. Shannon views some of the placards put up by the protestors: ‘OUR LAND IS BEING RAPED BY WHITE PEOPLE’. ‘GIVE US BACK OUR LAND’. The protestors are mostly in modern day clothing, but some of them have chosen to don their Native American garb, complete with moccasins and feathered headdresses.

  “Nice greeting,” Jared remarks.

  “Maybe that’s the point. They want people from outside this town to see what is being done to their land.”

  “It isn’t their land.”

  “It was. A long time ago.”

  “Well, it isn’t now. They sold it for a song.”

  “I don’t think that’s exactly how it happened.”

  “Hah,” he says.

  That shuts her up, because when Jared is in one of his moods, it’s no use talking to him. It would only aggravate the situation.

  The Toyota breezes past the protestors and rumbles on.

  As they near the town, the usual buildings that populate a small town start to appear. A bait and tackle shop. A gas station boasting a convenience store. A café. Two cafes. A bed and breakfast. Then the town proper begins to take shape. Banks. A five and dime. Gracious houses. Restaurants. More gas stations. An Applebee’s. An AT&T building with a generous parking lot. A Walmart’s.

  The tallest building they have seen so far is the AT&T, which tops three floors. A fire department sits next to it, though Shannon decides that fires here are probably put out on their own in seconds by the torrential rain.

  Anchoring the town square is a lovely old church with stain glass windows.

  “Look out for Pine’s Bluff, will you?” Jared growls.

  He is not in a better mood because his clothes are starting to dry in the car’s heater and they are beginning to emit a rank odor. She supposes she smells no better.

  “I have no idea what we’re looking for,” she says.

  She supposes she should have asked the handsome blond man where Pine’s Bluff is. But honestly, the situation didn’t allow it. It was one akin to a Mexican standoff, and if you were pointing imaginary guns at each other’s heads, it wouldn’t be too cool to ask: ‘Um, where is this dueling spot you speak of again?’

  The town slopes up from its center and the hillside dots with more houses. Every one of the houses is different in style, and every one of them comes with a neatly structured garden. Perhaps they give out prizes here for neatness, because it is truly a picture perfect town. When it is not obscured by rain, of course.

  Shannon teases out her cellphone from her purse. She is glad she left her purse in the car earlier or the rain would have soaked through the suede. She shouldn’t have bought suede. It is notoriously difficult to keep clean. Once suede is wet, weird imprints are left on it, like geographical maps of strange countries.

  She taps her GPS application. It isn’t foolproof, but since Jared won’t invest in a Garmin, it’s the best she can do.

  “Are you looking?” he says.

  “I’m looking.”

  His impatience makes her nervous. When she’s being hurried, she tends to type in the wrong letters on the Android touch screen.

  Before she can press ‘Done’, he exclaims: “Pine’s Bluff!”

  She looks up.

  The sign before the huge white mansion says: ‘PINE’S BLUFF’. OK, no mistakes to be made there. The house itself is very Pacific Northwest in design with many sprawling wings, gables and lots of wood paneling and plenty of roofs in every aspect of the three floors it boasts. But the parking lot which is half filled with cars suggests it is a commercial building.

  The white Merc is parked at a spot marked ‘Reserved’. Either the Merc’s owner is a ‘Very Important Person’ or he actually owns the place. Shannon remembers the ease in which he mentioned ‘Pine’s Bluff’, as though it is a territory he has staked out and laid out the land mines and heavy artillery.

  The rain has tapered off to a drizzle. There is an umbrella in the car, but someone has very wisely put it into the booth, and neither she nor Jared has bothered taking it out. Good planning, this.

  The car grinds to a halt. The parking lot is fringed by lawns, and she glimpses a flower garden beyond those lawns going to the back of the mansion.

  “Come on,” Jared says. “We better remove our bags if we want to change into some dry clothes. I don’t reckon on starting a fight if I’m sodden.”

  “You’re not going to start any fight.”

  She knows he has to struggle daily to keep his temper under control, and she knows it’s not his fault really. It’s the chromosomes he has in his makeup and the hormones coursing through his flesh. To ask him to be any different would be to ask him to alter his own DNA. She might as well shoot a tranquilizer dart into him.

  They take their suitcases out from the booth anyway. Hers is a lot heavier than his, but he doesn’t offer her any help. Jared has never been a gentleman for as long as she has known him. He is too much of a selfish alpha to be one. Now they have to find a restroom and change their clothes, if Pine’s Bluff would be so kind to allow them to do so.

  A ‘WELCOME’ sign loudly proclaims that ‘ROOMS FOR RENT’ can be found in here. So her first impression is right. It is a B&B. Maybe even a small boutique hotel.

  The white double doors open into a reception area. It is small, tasteful, and lined with oak paneling. Watercolors of the cliffs and stormy blue sea line the wall behind the reception desk. An elderly man looks up and smiles.

  “What can I do for you, Sir? Miss?”

  It wouldn’t be a bad idea to stay here, she thinks. The whole place has a very homely vibe to it, and she knows she will be happy here amongst the flowers. But of course, they can’t stay here if the white Merc’s owner has anything to do with it. It’s just a stop and go.

  “Is there a place we can change out of our wet clothes?” she asks.

  “Certainly, Miss. The restroom is right down the corner. The weather has been terrible lately with hardly a break in the rain pattern.”

  “Is it always like this in the Pacific Northwest?”

  “Not always, but close at this time of year.”

  Jared places his fist on the reception counter. His stance of aggression is unmistakable.

  “We’re also looking for a man. He’s the owner of the white Mercedes you have parked outside.”

  At this, the man seems taken aback. “You mean Mr. Lucien Walker?”

  “Is that his name?” Jared grins. “Lucien. Kind of sissy, ain’t it?”

  Shannon jabs him. “Pardon his rudeness. Actually, we don’t need to disturb Mr. Walker – ”

  “Hell no,” Jared interrupts. “A challenge is a challenge. I’ll never back down from one. You can go sit on the couch over there and wait till it’s all over.”

  “You’re not going to fight him!”

  “The hell I’m not.”

  The receptionist begins to look worried.

  “Ah, sir, Mr. Lucien’s family owns this hotel, among other properties. He is a very prominent member of our community. I wouldn’t want to have to call security.”

  “It’s OK,” says a voice to their right.

  Shannon turns. Lucien Walker, prominent member of Dolphin’s Bay, enters the reception area. His hair has been toweled dry, and every inch of him affirms the towering blond god that she thought he would be on the rain-soaked road.

  In fact, he is far more magnificent in the clear light of day.

  His eyes are a piercing blue. She is a woman of medium height, and he stands so tall that she has to crane her neck up to peer at his face. His family is obviously of Scandinavian origin. They have emigrated years ago, as his North Western accent suggests, but his physical characteristics still bear his Viking roots. His shoulders are broad and he has a V-shaped waist in comparison. His body is strong and muscular under his dry white shirt, and she can see little blond hairs peeking out of his unbuttoned lapels.

  God, but he is staggering!


  Lucien says again, “It’s OK, Peter. I asked them to come here. I believe I owe this gentleman the conclusion of our argument on the road a little earlier.”

  Peter seems worried. “Uh, sir, your father would not like this – ”

  “My father has nothing to do with this,” Lucien snaps. To Jared, he says, “You and I seem to have an argument about who cut who off on the road. How shall we settle this?”

  “Jared,” Shannon warns. She eyes Lucien pleadingly. “Please, we don’t want any trouble. We are new here in this town.”

  “All the better to test the waters with the locals, eh?” Lucien says.

  He sizes Jared up. Jared is a tall man, though not as tall as Lucien. But he is a good several inches taller than most men at six feet two. Jared’s body is lean and hard due to his nightly activities. She remembers what she has seen Jared do before and her chest contracts with sudden fear for the blond man.

  “So what do you say?’ Jared challenges. She can tell he is itching for a fight. “How good are you at wrestling?”

  Lucien laughs. “Wrestling in the mud? I’m afraid our weather does not allow for such proclivities. I’m looking more at a contest of strength. Arm wrestling, if you will.”

  At this, Jared grins. Shannon knows why. There is no better arm wrestler than Jared Bellamy in Tupelo, Nevada – from where they came from.

  At least they are only arm wrestling. She almost heaves a sigh of relief. She has seen Jared break men before in terrifying ways, which is one of the reasons why they had to run for the Pacific Northwest.

  As for the other reason . . . she’s trying her best to put it out of her mind.

  “Fine.” Lucien smiles back. He is poised and confident, something which does not surprise her. Men of his looks and obvious riches usually are. But then, he has not met the likes of Jared. “Let’s raise the stakes, shall we?”

  Raise the stakes? Her antenna pricks up. Why is he so confident? Because he is the bigger man? Because he is used to being a big man – and she doesn’t only mean physically – in a small pond?

  “What do you have in mind?” Jared says, suspicious.

  “Something I’m sure you’ll agree to. If I win, you both get free room and board at this fine hotel for as long as you need to stay.”

  Shannon can see the wheels in Jared’s head churning. Free room and board for as long as they wish to stay? They might be choosing to stay for a long, long time if she has her way. Jared, of course, has more wanderlust genes in his body.

  Lucien turns to her. “And is this your wife?”

  Jared says quickly, “She’s my sister.”

  Yeah, that’s usually his line and what has most people’s eyebrows rise a tad. They look nothing alike, she knows. And they shouldn’t, because they are not blood related. He is auburn-haired and she is dark. Very dark, with hair that gleams midnight in its darkness. His eyes are brown and hers are a startling violet. He is tall and she is petite in frame, though she is not short.

  “Sister.” Lucien seems amused by this revelation.

  “We are not related by blood,” she quickly offers. She wonders why she did that. She is not trying to let him think she is available, is she?

  She finds herself wondering if he is available too. A man who looks the way he does? No way in hell. She can imagine all the debutantes lining up to spread their legs for him.

  “And if I lose?” Jared demands in that kind of lofty tone which indicates that he does not think he will be losing.

  Lucien’s mind seems to be churning quickly as well.

  “If you lose,” his cavalier tone suggests that he thinks it is a forgone conclusion, “then your sister will have to go out on a date with me.”

  Shannon lifts her chin in surprise. A date? Her pulse begins to beat a little faster. So he is interested in me too?

  Jared is surprised too.

  “You want a date with Shannon?”

  She bridles at his tone. Hey, I am considered very attractive, you know.

  “Fine,” Jared says. “To each his own. He flexes his right arm. “Let’s do this.”

  “Great,” Lucien says, smiling. “Let’s adjourn to the restaurant. There are plenty of tables there to carry out our bet.”

  WAGER

  The one restaurant in the entire hotel is a modest affair, with red and white checkered tablecloths and neatly folded napkins in the shape of crowns. Silverware bedecks lacy place settings. Several tables are occupied, and the patrons turn their heads to size up the three very attractive young people coming in.

  Shannon’s gaze is immediately drawn to the garden beyond the wide French windows which surround two walls of the restaurant. The garden is in full bloom, and the roses are bountiful in yellow, red, pink and white amid leaves heavy with raindrops. She almost gasps at their largesse. Coming from a desert, she rarely sees such growth profusion.

  And no wonder, if it rained the way it did here . . .

  An entrance opens out to the patio surrounding the restaurant. Out there, several tables have also been placed. However, the tablecloths have all been folded up and no one is sitting outside. Raindrops speckle the surfaces of the tables.

  A waiter bows deferentially to Lucien. “Table for three, sir?”

  “Not in the way you mean, Tod. Clear a table for us over there.” Lucien points at a table for two next to the garden. Not out in the patio, but just inside.

  “Clear it, sir?”

  “Everything off. We want it clean.” Lucien motions to the brother and sister pair. “This way, please.”

  Jared struts ahead in that cocky way of his that she detests so much. Plenty of girls find Jared very attractive – and she supposes he is in his ‘I’m all butch male and I know it’ kind of way – but she is not one of them. Maybe she did find him attractive when they first met . . . but not anymore. Not after living with him and putting up with his moods for all these years.

  Jared pulls a chair and seats himself on it. Lucien pulls a chair for her and gestures, “If you will be our witness, Mademoiselle.”

  “Thank you.”

  She is charmed despite herself. She sits, taking care to ensure her narrow skirt doesn’t ride up her thighs too much. He seems to notice this, and she notices that he notices.

  Lucien takes the chair opposite Jared. Jared places his elbow on the table and proffers his hand. Lucien does the same. Every single eye in the restaurant is riveted on them, and Shannon is self-conscious to be in the center of so much attention.

  The two young men lock their grips. Jared’s eyes are brown steel while Lucien’s are a bright cornflower blue. She finds herself admiring Lucien’s well-toned forearms with their sparse blond hairs. She wonders how his large hands would feel like on her body.

  Suddenly, she is not sure who to root for to win.

  It isn’t that she doesn’t love Jared. They have been together for a long time, for better or worse. But he has been increasingly volatile of late. She understands the reasons, but does not actually relish being in the firing line.

  Nevertheless, Lucien Walker is turning out to be a very interesting prospect. Very interesting indeed. Shannon is not looking for a relationship. She has had too much heartache in that department, especially with Jared being so unpredictable, but she is not dead set against having one either.

  The thing is that Lucien Walker does not seem to be the kind of guy who wants a relationship either. A conquest, yes. An easy fuck, maybe. But not a relationship.

  “You tell us when to begin,” Lucien says to Shannon. His eyes gleam with an unmistakable spark of desire.

  She swallows. Jared eyes her balefully, aware of Lucien’s obvious attraction to her.

  Lifting up her chin to mask the sea of uncertainties boiling within her, she says: “On the count of three.”

  The guys grip each other’s fists tighter. The air is electric around the table despite the humidity from outside. Lucien’s eyes never leave hers. A delicious tingle runs down her spine and sends a h
eat wave into her groin, which is rapidly becoming moist. Few men have affected her in the manner Lucien Walker is affecting her now.

  She says, “One . . . two . . . three.”

  The atmosphere immediately becomes charged as the two men grip each other’s fists in strained embrace. Both men’s forearms are completely exposed. Their muscles bulge as their brows furrow in concentration.

  Some customers from the other tables are getting up from the chairs and crowding closer to watch, as are the waiters. Shannon sees all this from the periphery of her vision, because she doesn’t dare take her eyes off the dueling contestants.

  She remembers an episode from one and a half years ago when Jared first started to turn feral. He had a run in with a couple of thugs from a local gang. It was in a quiet alley, and Jared and she had decided to take a shortcut to get to the other street. They were ambushed at knifepoint by two youths who suddenly materialized from a dark doorway.

  She was frightened at first when she saw the gleam of the knife angled at her.

  “I’ll be taking that pretty purse, Miss,” says the youth who was pointing his knife at her throat.

  “And I’ll be emptying your pockets,” says the other youth, who has his knife poised at Jared’s throat.

  “And what if I don’t wish to do that?” Jared says calmly. She can feel the power coursing through him by the way his neck muscles bunch.

  “You have no choice in the matter, pretty man,” the youth says, grinning. “Give your wallet over or he’ll cut your girlfriend’s pretty throat.”

  “And maybe gut her like a pig after I’m through with her.” The one on her side lifts her hair up and smells it. “She’s real pretty.”

  “Jared,” she whimpers, “just give him your wallet.”

  That is when Jared explodes. He has been gaining in muscle strength and agility since ‘the change’, and even in his current form, he is lethal. With a few quick, sharp chops, he floored the two youths. They were writhing in pain and groaning on the ground. Their arms were bent in unnatural angles.

  She gazed up at him with new fear in her eyes.

  This very same strength – even more magnified with the passing of time – now dances in Jared’s sleek and enhanced muscles. She imagines him pushing down Lucien’s arm and breaking it off with a pop at the elbow. Jared is capable of doing that too, and he has recently acquired a cruel streak which frankly frightens her.