Margo tried not to cry as a silent Dugan helped her onto the large, lonely bus. She rubbed the mark on her neck, reliving every moment, bur
ning her lover’s face and touch into her memories.
They were all she had left.
Chapter Eight
The light outside of her apartment building had gone out. Great. She set down her small bag of groceries and fumbled for her keys in the dark, desperate for a long soak in the bath and some sleep.
It had been a month since she’d returned from Scotland. The longest month of her life. She’d returned to work with a letter of resignation in her hand, but Darcy demanded she give her three months to find and train her replacement. “It’s the least you could do after that Shifting debacle.”
She’d agreed, but everyone could tell her heart was no longer in her job. It was no longer anywhere. It was with him.
He hadn’t called. Hadn’t tried to find her. A small part of her had dreamt that he would, prayed that he would. She woke up from dreams filled with him only to find her bed empty and cold.
It was probably for the best. Dreams didn’t always come true. She’d learned that lesson enough for two lifetimes. She wouldn’t forget again.
“I was wondering when you’d get home.”
Margo jumped a few inches off the ground, a scream trapped in her throat. “Mac?”
The redheaded vampire emerged from the shadows, his hands in his pockets. “Good to see you again, Ms. Sheffield.”
“What are you doing here?” And why aren’t you Thomas?
“I wanted you to know that I appreciated your desire to help Saint with our little problem.” He grimaced. “No harm came to Mr. Ayer, I assure you. Apart from a few bruises, and the belief that his family legacy is now slaying fish, not vampires.”
She chuckled, and his lips quirked. “I also wanted to let you know that we have signed the contracts with Ms. Darcy. With a few, special caveats, of course. And that you have been given full credit for our decision, as well as a percentage of the profits.”
They’d agreed to the movie? Mac of all people? “But you said Shifting Reality was done. The site shut down and everything. I mean, thank you, but I don’t understand… why the sudden change in heart?”
Mac smiled. “Heart. That’s the word. The heart is such an inexplicable little organ. They can dissect and study it for millennia and still miss the magic it holds. The magic that makes us follow it, no matter where it leads.” He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “It has been brought to my attention that I need to loosen up. Take advantage of the recent vampire craze to get out more, meet new people. I’m willing to take a chance.” He stepped back, his expression trying to convey something important to her before he faded into the darkness once more. As though he’d never been there.
She opened the door to her apartment, shaking her head. They’d signed. Did that mean she’d see Thomas again? Would he even want her to? She could only imagine how angry he’d been when he woke to find her gone from the castle.
“Yoohoo. Margo Sheffield. You have a demon calling on line one.”
She dropped her groceries on the carpet. “Shit.”
“Oops. Hope there wasn’t anything breakable in there.”
She followed the voice to her dining room table, her jaw dropping at the sight of her open laptop, and the live feed image of Saint’s face smiling directly at her. “What is this?”
“Ms. Sheffield. This is your life. But first, a lesson in the mating habits of shifters.” He lifted his nose haughtily in the air, assuming the posture of pompous professor. “Despite the romantic propaganda, cat shifters cannot change their human mates on a genetic level. When they mark a mate, it bonds them to her for life, but not vice versa, which makes for one very possessive and vulnerable cat. As you can imagine.”
Margo touched the mark on her neck, the mark that had remained visible even after weeks of separation. Was he saying what she thought he was?
“Sometimes this possession manifests itself in strange ways. The shifter may wish to prove himself to his mate. Bring home a prized elk from the hunt or—” he waved a VHS tape in front of the camera, “—find a nasty little scumbag of a band manager and have his demon and vampire friends ferret out every last copy of an incriminating video tape.” The tape began to burn in his hands, and Margo’s vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes.
Saint nodded his head. “That was the last copy. On a final note. Shifters who have chosen their mates experience separation anxiety when said mate disappears for long stretches of time. So one shouldn’t be surprised to find them waiting in their bedroom. Now, I believe I’ve done my good deed for the next hundred years, and I feel the need to slaughter some random gamers. You kids have fun. This concludes your demon therapy session. Good luck.”
The computer shut off, and Margo wasted no time. She ran to the bedroom, threw open the door…and froze in shock. A lion was curled up on her bed. He was huge. Beautiful. But huge.
He stood on his large paws and shifted before her eyes, the familiar visage of Thomas Lyons taking his place, clad in jeans and a T-shirt. He looked hesitant as he stood on her bed. Nervous. “Your cat is underneath the sofa. I may have traumatized her. I’m sorry.”
Margo smiled through her tears. “She’ll live. She’s probably just jealous. She’s always thought she was the biggest, baddest cat in my life.”
He ran a hand through his tousled hair. “I’ve missed you, Margo. More than I thought I could miss anyone.”