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The Catalyst
It started with one lost pup; it may end in a war…Panthers don’t do responsibility. They don’t do long-term relationships. They definitely don’t raise kids. But when Z discovers a young wolf in the forest, he takes him in, unaware of the powerful beings hunting the pup. Fiona is a witch who can’t leave her house; the birds have told her something bad will happen. The mailbox is as far as she’ll go, but even that may provide more danger than she’s bargained for. When a wolf pup stumbles into her garden, her safe, wrapped-up world heads for a free fall.But along with danger, the pup brings a chance at love—a chance an agoraphobic witch and a bachelor panther shifter aren’t likely to find on their own.
EXCERPT:
Just have to make it to the
mailbox. Everything will be okay. Fiona Patrone
stared out the window at the lonely box at the end of the driveway. Her house
was surrounded by trees in a heavily wooded area of Golatha Falls—so far out it
was amazing the mailman delivered. And yet it felt so open and unknown out
there. It was safer inside.
There probably isn’t any
mail. Just check it tomorrow. Nothing important. Not worth going out. The thoughts tunneled through her mind like vicious moles. If she
didn’t venture out, she’d be even more a prisoner of her own mind and fears.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone past the mailbox. If she got to
the point where she couldn’t even get that far…
The birds outside screeched
then, chattering warnings, screaming the same awful things they screamed at her
every day. If you go out there, something bad will happen. She
believed them. Birds had no reason to lie. They were excellent seers, so much
so, that for centuries people had read bird entrails, not realizing that you
needed a live bird to get any knowledge of value.
Something bad. They could at
least give her a little detail, some clue as to what she should fear, but the
threat remained the same—vague and foreboding as ever.
Fiona had been able to
understand the language of animals before she could understand that of humans—a
rare and special gift for a witch to inherit. Though she’d always seen it as a
curse. If not for those damned birds, she’d be outside living her life. Maybe
she would have found love, a job, something.
Well, she had a job—on the
Internet. Her money was direct-deposited. She ordered her clothes online and
had her groceries delivered. Thanks to the web, agoraphobia had never been so
easy. At least from a logistics standpoint.
She took in a slow, measured
breath, her hand poised over the doorknob. You can do this. You can do
this. You can do this. Fiona mentally repeated it like a subliminal
message she prayed would take hold. The doorknob clicked in her hand. She moved
through what felt like invisible molasses as she forced herself out the door
and into the throng of screeching, angry birds.
The wind had a new crispness.
Almost Halloween. As a witch, shouldn’t she be in her element right about now?
But the idea of ghosts and goblins and veils thinning served to make the whole
ordeal seem more dangerous.
Fifty-five steps. She counted
them every day because counting them was the only way she could make herself
get there. It wasn’t far. She could run back into her house if the birds were
right.
The mailbox held nothing of
interest: an electric bill that could have waited until tomorrow. On her way
back, step twenty-four, she became aware of the eerie silence. The birds had
stopped their squawking, and a stillness blanketed the yard. She would have run
straight for the front door except for the plaintive cry coming from somewhere
nearby.
Ignore it. It’s not your
concern, she told herself. Thirty-five. But the noise happened again.
So sad, scared. Her heart softened at the sound. She’d want someone to help her
if she were in distress. Fiona tucked the electric bill into the waistband of
her jeans and struggled through the wild growth of the front yard. She hadn’t
worked on the garden in five years, and it showed.
When she reached the side of the
house, she found a wolf pup with wide, brown eyes, crying. He was old enough
that he should have started learning the language of his kind, but he hadn’t.
There were no words she could pick up and decipher. She could still get
emotions and basic information, especially if those emotions were strong. In
some circles, this made Fiona dangerous; in others, it would make her a pawn of
those who might want to capitalize on such information.
The pup was lost, hungry,
scared.
She didn’t sense a mother wolf
nearby. Had he been abandoned? Her mind screamed at her to leave him there. But
he was so hungry and pathetic. She couldn’t stop herself from scooping him up
and taking him inside.
She sat him on the kitchen
counter, and he stared curiously at her, turning his little wolf head to the
side. He was reddish-brown and white, the cutest thing she’d seen in forever.
At least he seemed old enough to be weaned.
She’d made a roast the previous
night and wasn’t sure how that would fly with the little guy, but it was what
she had. She cut some meat up and put it on the counter. The pup’s tail wagged
as he gobbled up the food. She placed a bowl of water down, and he took care of
that, too.
He stared at her from the top of
the counter as if to say What next? Oh wow, yeah. She hadn’t thought
through that part. If he was just lost, his mother would be coming soon. If he
was all alone, she couldn’t have a wolf in her house. Even understanding what
he needed, it was just insane. And probably illegal.
He positioned himself on the
edge of the counter, shifting his weight from paw to paw, negotiating the drop
to the ground. His full concentration was on the jump. When he made it to the
linoleum floor, he looked up at her, all pleased with himself, and she melted.
So cute.
“Well, maybe you can stay for a
little while. Until I figure out what to do with you.” Those words had barely
tumbled past her lips when the window over the breakfast nook shattered, and a
large ball of black fur leaped into her kitchen.
It must be the mother. But no. As her confusion cleared, she could
see it was a large, angry black panther.
Fiona edged back, afraid he’d
pounce if she made any sudden moves. What she wouldn’t give right now to have a
few handy incantations at the ready. For spells, she needed all the proper
tools: sage stick, herbs, candles, salt, etc. She could incant a little if she
was very focused, but now, with her heart pounding so fast, wasn’t one of those
times. Her own name was a blank—forget coming up with a snappy protection
chant.
She grabbed at stray pots and
pans and emptied a whole drawer of utensils as she threw everything she had at
him. But he batted the objects away, prowling closer, his growl low and
menacing. Within seconds, he had her backed into a corner, claws out, swiping
at her.
She screamed and grabbed her
arm, which was starting to bleed. Her side burned as well. All at once, her
brain snapped into sharp focus. She was going to die in a matter of seconds if
she didn’t figure something out right now.
He’d stopped clawing at her for
a minute and was growling, something about her taking the pup, wanting to hurt
him, people after him. Oh, wait. Wait! She could feel the magic crackling
around the panther. Therian! That meant there was a person in there.
Somewhere.
She called on every reserve of
courage she had to form words. “I wasn’t trying to hurt him. He was lost and
hungry. I brought him in to feed him. That’s all. I’m not whoever you think I
am.”
The panther stared at her hard
and growled again.
“Yes, I understand you.”
How is that possible? He growled.
“Rare gift. I meant the pup no
harm. I swear.” She held her hands out defensively, hoping he believed her. An
insane panther therian in her house wasn’t how she wanted to go out. Blood
dripped in a steady flow down her arm; her shirt was torn near her ribcage
where more blood was pooling. Oh God. That swipe alone could have killed her.
Breathe, Fiona. He’s calm
now. Everything will be fine. Thank God he was a
therian and could understand her as well as she understood him.
She still couldn’t figure out
what a panther’s concern with a wolf pup was. But really, all she wanted was to
get the both of them out of her house and call a window repairman. She was
trying to forget the bleeding part. She vowed she’d listen to the birds next
time.
So you can understand him? The panther’s
gaze shifted to the pup who gingerly stepped around the broken glass, sniffing
things.
“Well, he doesn’t have language
like you have yet, but I know what he needs. My gift runs a little deeper than
just speech.” Not to toot her horn or anything.
He shifted—–right in the middle
of her kitchen. Her eyes didn’t know where to go. Tanned, muscular legs. And…
oh dear, skip that, skip that! But her brain had already processed parts of a
man she’d never seen outside of television or the Internet, due to her phobia.
There weren’t a lot of opportunities to hook up with men when you never left
your house.
Farther up, there were very nice
abs and pecs—–and those arms. Oh boy. She swiped the back of the hand that
wasn’t bleeding across her face, afraid she might be drooling. She wanted to
lick him, but under the circumstances that seemed a little weird. Her arm and
side burned like fiery hell, but damn, he was pretty. So sleek and lithe, just
like what he shifted into.
When her gaze made it up to his
face, a boyish smirk graced his lips. There was a twinkle in his brown eyes.
His dark hair was longish, but somehow still masculine. Oh yes, there wasn’t an
unmanly bone in his body.
“So,” he drawled, moving closer
by mere centimeters, “should we just get it on now?”
Her mouth dropped open. He
couldn’t have just said that.
A strange look crossed his face.
“Sorry. Wild animal here. A little amped up. That was inappropriate.” He
extended a hand, attempting to move past the new awkwardness. “Let me look at
you.”
The pain in her arm and side
flared fully to life as she processed everything that had just happened in her
kitchen. When she didn’t respond to his request, he pulled her toward him and
lifted her shirt to inspect her side.
He frowned. “Not as bad as it
could have been. Nothing major harmed.”
She was about to get angry and
indignant about his flippant attitude toward what he’d just done, but then his
eyes met hers, warm and honest.
“I’m very sorry about your
injuries. I was afraid for the pup and sensed the magic on you. I thought you
were one of the ones who tried to take him. I’m all he’s got.” The pup, as if
sensing he was being talked about, clomped through the kitchen debris to sit
between them, his little wolf gaze going back and forth.
Fiona looked back at the man
standing in front of her, so sincere and intense… and attractive, and then the
waterworks started.
“Oh, no, don’t cry,” he said,
almost in a panic over the concept of female tears.
It wasn’t pain that had brought
forth the tears; it was the fact that this was what it took to get near a hot
guy for her: a near-death experience, and him breaking into her kitchen: the
idea that he was going to take the pup and go on his merry way, and she’d have
the memory of him emblazoned on her brain, but that would be all. Her close
brush with maleness. Inches from her, but no dice.
It wasn’t that she wanted to
take him up on his carnal offer. He was a stranger. And, as he said, a wild
animal. And she wished he’d cover himself with something, because judging from
outward signs, he was all raring and ready to go. Like most therians, he was
unaffected by his own nudity or arousal. Something she wished humans shared in
common with them, so she wouldn’t feel so freaked out by his nearness… or so
much longing for something she wasn’t going to ever have since she couldn’t
make it past her own mailbox.
His smooth, deep voice
interrupted her mental hysteria. “Do you have bandages?”
“Bathroom, down the hall,” she
said absently, feeling stupid for going all blubbery on him. Thank God he
couldn’t read her mind and know why she’d been crying. That would have been too
mortifying for words. Better for him to think she was just a big wimp who
couldn’t take surface abrasions than to know the truth.
Copyright 2012, Zoe Winters.
Zoe Winters
Zoe Winters writes quirky and sometimes dark paranormal romance (and dark fantasy). Her favorite colors are rainbow and clear. For updates on new releases and opportunities for contests/giveaways sign up for the newsletter by sending a blank email to: freekept@gmail.com (As a thank you, you’ll receive a free copy of the debut novella in the Preternaturals series: Kept.)
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