And There Were Beasts

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Jude Mason

And There Were Beasts All Hallow’s Eve Series

By Jude Mason

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AND THERE WERE BEASTS

The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal, and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage the electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are eith er the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. AND THERE WERE BEASTS Copyright (c) 2005 by Jude Mason Cover art and design (c) 2005 by Sable Grey All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form without permission, except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. Printed and bound in the United States of America. For information, you can find us on the web at www.VenusPress.com

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Jude Mason

Dedication:

To my husband, for giving me space and for trying to understand the heart of a writer.

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~*~

"What do you mean, he doesn't have a phone? Everyone in this day and age has a phone for Christ sakes." The words exploded out of Morgan's mouth before she could stop them. She stood with her hands planted firmly on the countertop of the town's General Store and scowled at the man in front of her. The ancient clerk stared back at her, a look of total disregard on his wizened old face, as if he didn't have a care in the world and couldn't have cared less that she was upset. Why would he care that she had to take time off from her busy accounting job? What would he care that her clients were waiting for her, champing at the bit for her to get their month ends done? After all, it wasn't as if he was the one who didn't have a phone. The old man was delicate, small-boned, and shorter than her five foot, four inches. He acted as if he knew something she didn't, which under the circumstances, he probably did. He nudged his large, round, silverrimmed spectacles a little higher on his nose and blinked, giving himself the look of a wise owl. It wouldn't have surprised her if he'd pursed his skinny old man lips and said, "Who.” Instead, he squared his narrow shoulders and looked her squarely in the eye. "Ms. Field, Joshua Lansing has no phone. He never has. He also has no electricity, and no running water, unless he's put it in himself." Morgan tossed her hands in the air. "Great, I'm going to visit a throwback to the eighteenth century. Is there at least a road to his…uh, house?" She cocked her head, and for a moment wondered what she'd gotten herself into. Six months ago, when she'd agreed to be long-time friend Frank Lansing's executor, she had no idea that he was ill or that he was going to die in a matter of weeks. A tumor, the doctors had told her - a tumor that had grown rampantly, giving them no time to find a treatment that would do any good. Frank died peacefully, thank heaven, but he'd left her holding the proverbial bag. He'd also had money, lots of it. Up until two 5

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days ago, she'd thought he was alone in the world. All she'd have to do was pay off his debts and take care of where he wanted the remainder of his assets to go. He'd never told her he had a son, or that he planned to leave it all to him. "Yes, there's a road to his house, or very close to it," answered the annoyingly civil clerk. "He doesn't have a car though, so the last mile or so, you'll have to walk down a path he's made to the house." He smiled at her then, and she wanted to slap him. Walk—in these shoes—through the bush? Morgan had dressed for business, not a hike in the woods. The light chocolate colored skirt and matching jacket hugged her curves beautifully, and the bright orange tank top showed off both her lightly tanned flesh as well as a hint of cleavage. Her shoes, although practical for office wear with a heel that was just over two inches high, would be ankle breakers if she had to go tramping though the woods—which was exactly what it looked like she'd be doing. "Okay," she said reluctantly, taking a couple of deep breaths to calm herself before going on. After all, it wasn't the clerk's fault that Joshua lived like a pioneer. Under other circumstances, she might have actually enjoyed a walk in the forest. Tossing her long, nearly white hair over her shoulder, she said, "I'm sorry for being so snarky. I just wasn't expecting this." She tried on a smile and found that it felt good. The elderly man returned it. "No problem little lady," he said, coming around the counter. Taking her by the arm, he guided her to the window at the front of the shop and peered up the street. "See that billboard just after the Lazy Diner? Well, keep going up that road until you come to a huge boulder on the left. It's got graffiti from the kids, you can't miss it." He stood aside to let her see where he was pointing; when she nodded he went on. "Keep going for about another hundred feet or so. On the same side as the big rock, you'll see a sign with a picture of a wolf on it; that'll be Joshua's place." He took her by the arm again and guided her slowly towards the door. He was surprisingly strong for an old fellow, so when he opened the door and ushered her out into the fading sunlight, she let herself be ushered. "There's a place you can park your car where it won't be seen. We might be in the back country, but kids being kids, sometimes get into trouble if the temptation's too great." He walked her right to her car, even opened the door for her—the perfect gentleman. She settled into the silver-gray Mustang's comfort and dug the key out of her purse. 6

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"Thanks for your help," she said as she started the engine. The purr of the motor turned into a rumble of power when she revved it up. "Is there some kind of hotel or motel in town?" "Yep, we have a motel." He nodded in the opposite direction from the one she'd be traveling in and said, "It's small, only four units, but it's clean and won't break your wallet. Sleeping Pines Motel, it's right on the highway, you can't miss it." Pulling her door closed, she rolled down the window and leaned out. "Thanks again. You've been a huge help." She put the car in gear and pulled away. In the rearview mirror, she watched him wave, then go back into his shop. It was the dinner hour, so she wasn't surprised that there were few people around as she left the tiny town of Huntsbury. When she passed the boulder the old man had told her about, the pavement stopped and she found herself driving on gravel. She slowed the Mustang, not wanting to stir up any more dust than necessary. She spotted the sign just as the sun dropped behind the hills. A wolf, black and beautifully, carved on what looked like the butt of a Fir log, with the name Lansing painted across the lower edge. Morgan pulled into the overgrown drive, slowly easing the car ahead. It was like driving into a mottled green tunnel. The sunlight was fading fast and the shadows seemed to be reaching for her. About thirty feet into the driveway, the pathway widened out on one side. She pulled the Mustang into the little side-road that appeared to her right and rolled to a stop. She sat watching the sky darken and her apprehension grew. She'd hoped to get there before dark, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen and wondered if perhaps she should return to town and get a room for the night. Coming out again in the morning might be a good idea. "Come on girl, just get moving." Pushing the door open, she grabbed the bag that held all the paperwork concerning Frank's death and climbed out. Locking the car door, she headed down the pathway. Shoulder high Salmon Berry bushes leaned towards the center of the trail. Long willowy grasses brushed her calves and the taller Maple trees with their large leaves hurried the path into darkness half an hour earlier than the open roadway she'd just left. An abundance of rotting leaves softened each footfall and swallowed her heels at each step. 7

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Morgan tried to stay in the middle of the pathway as she walked. A mile the old man had said. She shivered. Crickets chirped from somewhere to her left. The silence behind that soft chirp was deeper, more welcoming than she remembered which eased her anxiety. Even the ominous shadows somehow seemed soft and warm. The evening was warm, her jacket stifling. After only a couple of hundred feet, she slipped it off and draped it over her arm. Tiny biting insects buzzed around her, but for some reason didn't land or bite. The meandering curves in the path were like a snake coiling around large rocks or the trunks of trees. She smelled cedar, and stopped for a moment to close her eyes, while she inhaled the tangy sweetness of it. Her heels sank into soft loam and stuck. She cursed when her foot slid free of its shoe. "Damn!" She hopped on one foot but it was no use, she had to put it down to free her shoe. The soft ground was cool against her sole as she bent and pulled the offending shoe out of its trap. From her left, something snarled. Morgan froze. She wanted to scream but her lungs were as frozen as the rest of her. Only her eyes moved. Frantically searching the darkened underbrush, afraid she'd see what made the noise—more afraid that she wouldn't—and that whatever it was would simply attack. Movement—the soft sound of leaves or branches being moved aside grew louder, closer. Breathing—raspy, harsh—came from close by. Her breath suddenly caught, she inhaled not to scream, but instead to flee. Shoe in one hand, her bag and jacket clasped firmly in the other; she raced flat out down the path. Branches tore at her shoulders and arms but didn't slow her. The long grass fought to trip her, grabbing at her legs, her ankles. Beside her just out of sight, she heard heavy breathing and branches breaking as something paced her. Adrenaline surged through her. Desperately, she increased her speed. Finally, when she was sure her heart was going to burst, she saw light ahead. With newfound strength, she ran towards it. Coming around a bend, she spotted a cabin. In the blink of an eye she identified the beauty of a fair-sized cabin, nestled in amongst the evergreens. A window to the right of the door spilled light onto the lush grass, beckoning her. Joshua's, it had to be. She skidded to a stop at the door, and immediately banged her forgotten shoe against the rough wood.

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Nothing happened—no answer, no noise from inside, nothing. Morgan's anxiety grew. What if Joshua wasn't home? What if whatever had snarled and paced her attacked? She looked over her shoulder seeking the comfort of the moon. She saw it, just peeking from behind a tall cedar. Its presence eased her and she took a deep breath. She dropped her shoe and pounded on the door with her fist. Still nothing. She turned, surveying the brush near the cabin and peered into the darker shadows beneath the trees. The night was silent again. She opened her mouth and cocked her head, listening for the animal that had followed her. She was alone as far as she could tell. Sniffing, she thought she smelled feline but couldn't be sure. "Can I help you?" Spinning, Morgan dropped her bag and jacket, lashing out with a fist. She swung instinctively at the voice. Her heart raced. Adrenaline surged. As she struck out, her mind registered a male voice, deep and soft, at a height some foot above her head. Everything happened in slow motion. A large man, tall and incredibly muscular, stood not five feet away. He had a white towel wrapped around his lean hips that was barely long enough to be decent and threatened to fall off if he moved the wrong way or too fast. Another draped over his shoulder. Longish, dark hair clung to his skull in thick waves and curls that shone as if wet. A square jaw gave him a stern look, but his full lips and the short blunt-tipped nose softened it. He had beautifully defined cheekbones and a high forehead that was half covered by his hair. He needed a shave—that just added to his appeal. He took a step back holding his hands up, his palms facing her, protecting himself from her sudden outburst. Eyes, the color of honey, regarded her. "Whoa! Sorry I startled you. This is my place, honest." Morgan felt herself flush with embarrassment. If he'd been a step or two closer, she'd have hit him squarely in the jaw. "Joshua?" she asked tentatively, lowering her hand. "Joshua Lansing?" "Yes. But who are you? And, what are you doing out here at this time of night?" He dropped his hands and walked around her to the door. "Can we take this inside? These no-see'ums are going to eat me alive if I stand around out here much longer." 9

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Pushing the door open, he stood aside. With an obvious flair for the melodramatic, he bowed low and made a sweeping gesture with his free hand, indicating she should enter. Off-balanced, Morgan hesitated. Then, feeling a little foolish, she strode through the door. The room she stepped into was like nothing she'd ever seen before. It was divided into two rooms; the room she stood in was the main one, a combination living room, kitchen and bedroom; to her right, she saw a partially opened door that led into a bathroom. Dark, richly oiled wood was everywhere; the floor, walls and ceiling. Even the countertops in the kitchen were a polished lighter wood, as was the headboard of the bed, which was placed at the left wall in a kind of alcove. A large stone fireplace dominated the room. That's where the light came from that she'd seen and fled towards. Earth tones of browns, greens and oranges made up the colors of almost everything: bedding, the cover on the single couch and chair that faced the fireplace, as well as the heavy drapes that were drawn back from the windows. "I asked who you were, lady." Joshua interrupted her silent appraisal of his domain. She looked back at him with a pang of regret. She hated being the bearer of bad news, even when she had no choice. "I'm sorry," she stammered and turned to face him. "This is amazing, your place, I mean." She did a slow spin, getting one last good look at the place and him, before breaking the news. "My name's Morgan Field. I knew your father—" "Knew?" he frowned. "You said you knew him. Has something happened to my father?" "I'm sorry." She hated the quiver in her voice. At that moment she'd have given anything to be somewhere else, have someone else break the news to this gorgeous man. Taking a deep breath, she went on before she lost her courage. "Your father passed away a week ago yesterday. I'm the executor of his will, he—" "Passed away?" He looked as if she'd punched him in the stomach. His face paled, a haunted look shadowing his eyes. "You mean he's dead? My father's dead?" "Yes," she said as softly and as gently as she knew how. His sorrow was like a blanket wrapping around not only him, but also her and the room. She dropped her bag and took a step towards him. "I'm so sorry." Before she could say anything else, Joshua staggered and looked as if he was going to collapse. She lunged forward, slipping an arm around his waist. Taking his 10

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other arm, she wrapped it around her shoulders and guided him to the large comfortable looking couch. The warm flesh of his hip under her palm stirred a longing she'd been trying to ignore ever since she'd seen him. The towel did almost nothing to hide his firm body. It had been much too long since she'd had a man. Circumstances made that difficult for her at the best of times. A flash of memory, a re-occurring dream, or nightmare of passion, of tearing flesh, the taste of blood in her mouth and a craving that left her weak and trembling, all mixed together made her shudder. Determinedly pushing her desire for him aside, she focused on getting him to sit down before he fell down. It was not the time to let her own problems surface. Glancing through the nearby window, she saw the soft moonlight and felt the pang of a longing she'd kept hidden all her life. She heard a soft groan when she eased him down, and felt the muscles in his chest writhe when she pressed her palm against him. A familiar response to tension she thought; inside she had a niggling glimmer of something else. "I haven't seen him for almost two years," Joshua said abruptly. As if that first confession broke the lock, the rest came tumbling out. "We disagreed about some things. Family mostly, they seemed important at the time. Funny," he looked into her eyes, and she saw the heart-wrenching pain of his loss, "it doesn't seem important now. I'd give anything to see him one last time. Tell him I loved him. Tell him that both of us were right." Joshua lurched to his feet, nearly knocking her over as he pushed past. Startled, she reached out and grabbed. The towel came away without so much as a tug. Morgan stared dumbstruck at the soft white slightly damp cloth in her hand, her mouth dropped open. Blinking, she glanced up at him, as he stood just as dumbstruck. Naked and beautiful. She blurted, "Oh my God! I—I…" Her face flashed hot with embarrassment but she couldn't turn away, he was a magnificent animal. Only the reason for her visit made her hold the towel towards him. Under other circumstances, she was sure she'd have moved in. Automatically he reached out taking the towel. Instead of covering himself with it, he let it fall to the floor. She scanned him from the top of his head to the tips of his toes and then back up again, taking in every detail; the light covering of hair on his legs, the small scar on the inside of his left thigh, the circumcised penis that lay nestled among a soft brown mat of fur and the nearly hairless sack beneath. His chest had a light 11

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smattering of hair, a treasure trail that led down his stomach and stopped halfway to his navel, then resumed again below it. His nipples were small and tight. She longed to nibble her way from one to the other but dared not move. "How well did you know my father?" His question brought her attention back to his face—his eyes. "Uh, not as well as I'd have liked to," she stammered. "No wait, that's not true. I knew Frank for years, but just as friends. He took me under his wing when I left my foster parents’ home. I never knew my real parents; they left me on the steps of the county orphanage when I was just over two. He was a recluse, your father I mean. I guess you knew that." Her voice had grown husky. She fought to control the need growing inside. "We shared a love of animals, wild things in general. You know, I always felt like he wanted to tell me something but he never got the chance." She heard herself ramble. She wanted to say something, to save him the embarrassment she knew he'd feel when his mind got back up to speed. Instead, she found herself babbling, inanely, stupidly, and trying not to stare. Suddenly he blushed and reached down to cover his genitals. "Damn!" He turned and rushed into the bathroom, pushing the door shut behind him. Morgan didn't quite know what she should do. The moon called to her. Her insides churned with a desire that had been dormant for months, ever since she'd been caring for Joshua's father. Now, here in the wilderness with this attractive wild man so nearby, her skin itched with a long forgotten craving to be out and free. Her dreams, always vibrant, were even more real during the full moon; they always had been. From behind the bathroom door, she heard movement, footsteps padding towards her, the soft hush of cloth sliding over flesh. Her senses were intensely sharp. When the door opened, she realized just how sharp; she smelled him—the male musk of him. He'd pulled on a terrycloth robe, belting it snugly around his waist. He was still flushed, yet seemed more in control of his emotions. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what came over me. I don't usually walk around like that in front of strange women." His flush deepened and he couldn't meet her eyes. "I mean, I don't—" "Joshua, please don't apologize," she reassured him and took a step away from the draw of the moon. "I came here, told you some horrible news and it obviously upset you badly. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I handled it badly and I'm truly sorry." 12

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To belay any further uncomfortable feelings, she went on. "Anyway, let me tell you the rest. About six months ago, he asked if I'd be the executor of his will. I didn't think anything of it and said I would. Then he got sick. Looking back, I realize he must have known and that's why he asked me. It was so fast; there wasn't any time to treat him—to cure him." "He kept secrets," Joshua's eyes had a haunted look—a sadness that touched her deeply. "We all have our secrets," she said, and bit her tongue. What was she thinking? She didn't even know this man. He cocked his head. The way he looked at her, he must have realized she'd almost said something important, something secret. He took the towel from over his shoulder, absentmindedly rubbing it over his hair and then tossed it onto a chair nearby. Morgan had to turn away. She wanted him so badly it had become an ache in her loins that throbbed. Her pulse roared in her ears. She smelled her own scent, and knew that he must be able to as well. Hopefully, he'd be too focused on what she'd told him about his father's death to recognize it for what it was. She went to the window, the one she'd seen from the path and her mad flight. The sun was completely gone. The moon hung low in the sky, full and round, and brighter than she thought it had any right to be. She felt its pull and wrapped her arms around herself. "How did he die?" Joshua had come up behind her. When he'd spoken his breath pushed into her hair. She didn't dare turn around; she'd have been in his arms. She scarcely breathed. Her attraction to him was inexplicable, yet as tangible as the heat radiating from him. "Cancer. It took over and just went wild." She shuddered at the memory of what the disease had done to the elder Lansing's body. What had surprised her and the doctors was that there'd been so little pain. Frank had been so accepting of his fate. At the very end the doctors had wanted to run tests on him. He'd refused and had instructed her, as his executor, to make sure his body was cremated immediately after his death. Carefully, she went on, "He didn't suffer, but the disease did horrible things to his body. He asked me to have his remains cremated. As soon as the death certificate was signed, I made the arrangements." She turned around and looked into his eyes, saying softly, "He was cremated a week ago." 13

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He cringed ever so slightly but it was as if he'd spoken volumes. Nearly naked and vulnerable, she thought he was the strongest person she'd ever known. For a moment he didn't move, didn't say a word; he just soaked in what she'd said. "Thank you. You've been more than kind. My father was a lucky man." He smiled, and held his hands up as though he was fending her off. "Before we both start getting sappy here, can I get you a cup of coffee or something? A glass of wine? I have some amazing red wine, homemade." With a quick look over her shoulder at the dazzling moon, Morgan replied, "Yes, I'd like that." "Please, sit. It's a bit lumpy but not bad." He took her by the arm, guiding her to the couch he'd been sitting on just a few moments ago. She picked up her bag on the way and dropped it by her feet as she sat down. He was right, a bit lumpy but after the long day she'd had, plus the trauma of her race through the woods and her arrival, she was just glad to sit down and take a breath. Looking around the room, she noticed several pieces of artwork—paintings she found disturbing yet amazingly beautiful. Joshua seemed to have an interest in cats. One in particular took her breath and she couldn't look away. He'd captured her dream, or nightmare; she was never sure which. It could have been her at that moment of transformation. But how? "Your wine." He stood next to her, his hand outstretched, a large crystal goblet of deep, blood-red liquid held out to her. The fragrance filled her senses and in the short time it took to inhale, she felt a wave of intoxication. "I see you've spotted my artwork," Joshua said, as she took the glass from him. He turned and looked at the one that had mesmerized her. "That one I did a couple of years ago. I saw her in a dream." The painting was of a cougar that seemed to be transforming into a woman who had long, nearly white hair. The sleek pale cat was leaping towards something just out of the picture; half of it was woman, the other half-still cat. One arm, part of the torso and its ass were human; the rest was cat, except for the face, which was a mixture of both. It was incredibly beautiful. The eyes, brown flecked with gold, seemed so alive. The creature looked like it was about to leap off the canvas. 14

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Morgan took the offered glass and in a quavering voice asked, "You did these?" She did a slow turn, really looking at the others she'd seen, yet hadn't really taken in. From her place on the couch, she couldn't see them all well. There were at least a dozen scattered around the room, all of the same subject in different positions or stages of transforming. "Yes, all mine. I've sold a few to local galleries mostly but that one, I'll never sell." "It's amazing," she whispered and had to look away before she said any more. She took a sip of wine. The sharp bite of the first taste took her mind off the painting and her dream. A tentative smile lit his face when she turned her gaze on him. His eyes were so much like hers; it was uncanny. His hair was lighter now that it had dried a little. The curly waves framing his face needed a comb. She clenched her fist; she'd almost reached out to run them through his hair. Another small sip of wine did little to calm her; it did give her a little time to think before responding. Why was she so unsettled? Joshua's smile broadened. Morgan felt her face heat up and knew she was blushing. "Yes, I guess I have. This is a lovely place you've got here," she said. Inexplicably her nipples tightened. The flush that began in her face crept lower and a flood of excitement made her shudder. Bewildered, she lowered her eyes and took another sip of wine. "Thank you. I've been here for years. It suits me. I keep adding touches that are me, I guess. A recluse, like my father perhaps." Suddenly Morgan yawned. No matter how hard she tried to bite her tongue or clench her jaw, nothing worked and she realized how tired she was. Driving all day, then the trek through the woods had taken their toll. She needed rest. Finishing her wine, she pushed herself to her feet saying, "I'd better head back to town and get a room." As much as she dreaded the thought of a return trip to her car, she couldn't put it off any longer. "Nonsense," Joshua said hurriedly. "It's late and there are wild animals out there. Not to mention old lady Summers. She's the widow who runs the only motel we have in town, and she'll be in bed by the time you get there. You really don't want to wake that woman up." He shuddered and smiled. "There's plenty of room here, and I've got a screen that goes around the bed for privacy." 15

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"Are you sure?" she asked, relieved. For a moment she was a little uneasy at the prospect of sharing a house with a strange man, even one who was the son of her old friend. Then she thought of him naked and any thoughts of leaving vanished. "Of course, I'm sure." Taking her by the arm, he led her to the queen size bed that dominated one corner of the large room. He pointed to a folding screen leaning up against the wall beside the bed. "See, I'll just drag that out and you'll have your privacy. I'll take the couch." Morgan relented, nodding in agreement. She was tired—bone tired. She also dreaded the thought of walking back through the woods to her car. "All my stuff is in the trunk of my car. My suitcase I mean." "No problem," Joshua said, going to the dresser on the opposite side of the bed. Pulling open the top drawer, he dug through the clothing until he finally presented her with a silky blue pajama shirt that looked huge. "I'm sure this'll cover you. The sheets are clean, and I'll put the screen up so you can get into the bathroom without me seeing you." It was his turn to blush. She'd seen him, all of him, yet there he was worrying about her privacy. "You've talked me into it." His being embarrassed had been the clincher. Most men would have been only too glad to show off their bodies under any circumstances, but he seemed bashful, even in his own domain. "Good," he said, reaching for the screen. Six feet high and made of burlap sections painted in a forest motif, it would definitely ensure her privacy. He stood it along the side of the bed and made sure it curved around the footboard, giving her enough room to comfortably change and have access to the bathroom. She stood holding the silky shirt, watching him, and letting her imagination wander. His movements were deft and sure, feline in their compact smoothness. When he was done, he stood looking at her, seemingly unsure of what to say. He'd taken in a lot this evening, she thought; he needed some time to absorb it all. "We'll talk in the morning," she said, and eased towards the privacy of the screen. "Do you drink coffee?" "Uh, yeah," he said, heading for the small corner kitchen. "I'll set it up before I go to bed. I'm an early riser, so don't be alarmed if you hear me moving around at first light." 16

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"You won't disturb me," she reassured him. "I'm used to getting up early too. But, I'm a bitch before I have my coffee." He chuckled. "Oh good, I'll try to have it made before you bite me." The double meaning made Morgan smile. She winked at him when he looked back at her. "Maybe I'd like to be bitten." He grinned but didn't take the bait. He did, however, look at her with a longing that surprised her. She sensed there was something stopping him from going on with the banter, only couldn't decide what it was. He left her to set up the coffee machine. She took the opportunity to change into his nightshirt. The bathroom was larger then than she'd thought it would be. An oversized tub filled one wall, and she wondered if he had to carry water to fill it. The toilet had its own small alcove. Large, plush green towels hung from both racks; one beside the tub, the other next to the sink. Above the sink she noticed a small medicine cabinet, and for an instant regretted not bringing her meds from the car. At certain times of the month, she usually needed help sleeping. Suddenly she yawned again and thought that for once, she might be all right. She slipped out of her skirt and blouse then noticed the full-length mirror on the wall behind the tub. She twisted, sucked in her tummy and smiled as she fantasized about Joshua watching her. Folding her skirt and blouse, she put them on top of the clothes hamper and removed the rest of her clothes. For a heart stopping instant, she thought of just walking out naked. Her nipples tightened and she couldn't catch her breath. The attraction she felt for him made her feel lightheaded. Her heart raced. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she saw a trapped look in her eyes. Her hand rose to her chest, to her breasts, and she gently cradled one. A shudder gripped her. A soft moan escaped. "I'm in bed if you want to come out now," came his deep masculine voice from the other side of the door. Morgan sighed and looked again at the blonde in the mirror. Poor thing she thought, giving her nipple a tentative squeeze. She forced another moan out before reluctantly pulling her hand away. Slipping on his pajama shirt made her shudder anew. So soft and cool against her flesh, it was like pulling on a cool breeze. The shirttails barely covered her bottom. When she rolled up the sleeves and buttoned it, she was decent as long as she didn't plan 17

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on doing any stretching. He was taller than her by a good six inches; even so, the front split came precariously close to revealing her nakedness beneath. One last look in the mirror showed her flushed, the hard points of her nipples poking mischievously at the front of the shirt. After rinsing her face with cool water, she exited the bathroom. The main room was dark except for a small light he'd obviously turned on at the head of the bed. She padded around the corner and slipped beneath the covers. Instantly, she smelled him—the warm masculinity of him—inhaled greedily. "Good night, Morgan," he said from his bed on the couch. "If you wake up before I do, and the coffee addict needs her brew, just flick the button on the bottom of the machine." His chuckle made her smile. "Thanks, Joshua." She turned over, snuggling into the soft pillow. She was tired, but didn't drop off for a while. After a few minutes, she caught the sound of sobbing coming from Joshua's direction. She rolled over, tempted to go to him, then stopped. He mourned his father, and even though he'd said they’d had their differences, it was obvious that he'd loved the man. She thought it better to give him his privacy, and again turned away. Sleep finally took her as his sobbing slowly faded into gentle snores. **** Running, she raced like the wind through the underbrush. It was dark and she ran low to the ground, the soft loam squished beneath each footfall. The heady aroma of wood-smoke and man filled her senses. There was something not right. Something bothered her; she turned away, fleeing in another direction. Trapped. Her legs were trapped—ropes of cloth wound around them—and she snarled. Claws, suddenly hers, sliced downward at an awkward angle freeing her. Her throat made a rumbling sound. Odd, yet somehow she recognized it. Morgan peered around the room. The angle was all wrong. The colors dull, but the edges were so much sharper than she remembered. Bedclothes torn and ragged, hung in a twist over the edge of the bed. The screen shielded her from him. But she smelled him. The ripe man smell she'd learned was him. Only, it was stronger, harsh in her nostrils. She sneezed. Her face was wrong. Her body was wrong. Terror gripped her. The nightmare had returned. Her meds, she should have found a way to take them. Too late. 18

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A rustling sound came from the other side of the screen and she leapt. She'd meant only to jump off the bed. In her panic, she'd cleared the screen and stood trembling in the middle of the room. To her right lay Joshua, still asleep. He'd just turned; the noise she'd heard was the covers slipping off him. Again, he was naked before her. Too lost in her terror to stop or look more closely, she searched for a way out. She had to get out. A partially opened window over the sink proved the way to her escape. Alder and maple, old ferns rotting while the new pushed their way out of the rich soil, all had a scent that intoxicated her. She ran on all fours, quickly becoming accustomed to the new angle she was seeing the world from. Muscles and sinew strained to gather more speed, as she sped through the forest in no particular direction. Flight— freedom—was all she craved. She ran until she came to a lakeside, and then she stopped. Panting, she gazed into the placid waters. A cat looked back at her. Not just an ordinary cat, but a cougar. She leapt away, and landed some fifteen feet from the edge of the lake. Crouched, she gazed around trying not to let panic take hold again. She looked down at her hands, paws. Her heart raced, fear, wonder and a sense of horror filled her. Stretching her fingers out, claws extended and dug into the soft earth. The smell of soil rose. She sneezed again. Slowly, she approached the water again and gazed into its calm surface. Yes, a cougar, but such a cougar. Her fur was nearly white against the darkness around her. Her eyes were the same gold-flecked brown. She wriggled her nose. Whiskers twitched. She turned her head to the side, admiring the sleek lines of her face and how the fur shone in the moonlight. Lifting her chin, she noticed a fang, and yawned. The size of her incisors shocked her. They seemed huge. Sticking out her tongue, she watched as she slid it over the dagger-like teeth. Even her tongue moved differently, tending to curl back under rather than upwards. She crouched forward and tried to suck at the water, but her lips, or lack of them, made it impossible. It smelled amazing. She'd never actually smelled how alive water was until that moment. The muscles in her shoulders bunched as she leaned forward a little more and 19

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dipped her nose in. Cold bit into her sensitive nostrils. Pulling back, she flicked her tongue out. Automatically her tongue curled back and she got a mouthful of frigid water. She tasted not only water, but also fish and plants, and was surprised at how easily she took to lapping her drink up. Suddenly, she felt her body tremble. A deep rumbling noise came from her chest. She was purring. From somewhere in the distance behind her, she sensed a presence. There was life all around, mice, shrews, rabbits, all scurrying about their nights feeding; an owl peered around from the top of an old crag, bugs and beetles scuttled under leaves and branches strewn around the underbrush. She even smelled a fox, but it was an old smell. The presence she sensed was different, yet familiar. Her curiosity rose. It was a male scent and growing stronger. He was approaching her. She sprang from the shore and plunged into the underbrush. Her heart pounded with a new sense of wonder and excitement. Her body reacted in a much stronger way to the male animal than it ever had when she was in her human form. Would she ever return to that? For an instant, she remembered her nightmares; the pain that came when she shifted from one form to the other and how she'd tried to block it with medication that she'd taken since her menses began more than a dozen years ago. How she'd feared the change, the ridicule of anyone finding out, how relationships ended because of that fear. She cowered, felt panic creeping up on her. What was coming, animal or man? Should she flee? A noise across the small clearing she'd just vacated decided for her. She peered through the darkness, trying to make out the male. His smell thrilled her. Rich, pungent, it drew upon her, tempting her to reveal herself. She fought and won, but the memory of dreams when she'd let the intoxication guide her, weakened her resolve. A soft mewling sound whispered from deep inside her. A cougar stepped into the clearing and made for the water's edge. Larger than her, the beast walked with a grace that transfixed her. The muscles in his shoulders rippled beneath the dark, tawny covering of fur, his haunches writhing with each step. His tail swished back and forth as he walked, the black tip a lure. She wanted to pounce on it, on him, but held herself still. Cat she may be, the urge to flirt, or seduce him was nearly overpowering. Her senses told her he was more than he seemed, and that frightened her. That thought alone was all that stopped her. 20

AND THERE WERE BEASTS

Her nose twitched. An odd sensation—somehow his scent filtered in faster. She watched as he gazed around, then looked directly at her. He then turned and crouched closer to the water. His pose was all cat, head down, butt up. He shifted his hind legs before settling down to drink. Almost daintily, he lapped at the lake water while she eyed him, hungrily. Yes, she admitted it to herself, she hungered for him. Her legs tensed, her toes dug into the soil, the claws extended for a firm grip. For some reason, she looked up at the moon. She suddenly felt such a deep yearning, as if someone dug into her chest and wrapped a fist around her heart then tried to pull it out. The moon, long passed its zenith, would set soon. A snarl brought her attention back to the present. The male had finished drinking and turned around. He sat facing her. He cocked his head, body language inviting her to join him. Then, he too turned and looked towards the moon. Morgan crouched in the underbrush and watched the magnificent beast before her. Sleek, muscular, his dark fur called to be stroked. She yearned to stroke it, and him. He curled his long tail around his feet; the tip of it continued to twitch, teasing her desire to pounce. Then she heard a soft rumble. He was purring. That was her undoing. Taking a deep breath, she rose to her feet—all four of them. Cat-like she stretched, pushing one forefoot out in front of her and extended her claws. She arched her back and yawned, pretending that he was of no interest to her at all. Of course they both knew differently. She smelled not only his maleness, but as she sauntered out into the open, her own scent was like a cloud around her. He remained seated, but she caught his intake of breath when she appeared out of the forest undergrowth. As she neared him, his rattling purr grew louder. The hair on the back of her neck rose and she shivered. Excitement made it hard to control the urge to race forward and knock him to the ground. She'd never felt anything so profound, so overwhelming before. She glanced at the moon and watched it touch the horizon at the far side of the lake. Turning back to the male, she took a couple of tentative steps closer, and sniffed at him. Close to swooning from the heady aroma, she stumbled forward and butted her head against his shoulder. Hard muscles met her, his purring increased in volume. 21

Jude Mason

She felt something touch her ear. An ear that seemed somehow jointed as it twitched at the soft caress. Another caress, and then to her wonder, she felt her chest rattle in a purr. The male rose and stretched beside her, his body touching hers unobtrusively. His head was at her shoulder and he faced her rear. She watched his tail flick. Suddenly, there came a weird wrenching from deep inside her belly. Her vision blurred as pain tore at her stomach. She grunted, felt herself falling, and was held as pain wrapped its vicious arms around her. Opening her mouth to scream, she was surprised when all that came out was a mewling cry. The pain was gone before it was fully realized, and her body shifted. That was the only way she could describe it, a shifting, stretching sensation that frightened her, yet felt right and familiar. Her skin crawled. Searing agony gripped her thighs and she realized they were actually elongating, reshaping into human form. The fur, soft and gorgeous as it was, drew into her skin, absorbed to feed the change. Her shoulder snapped, and for an instant, pain wracked her full force as her upper body realigned itself. The rest came easily. Her hands and feet shifted, reforming to a more recognizable shape. Her face went numb, and she was glad that she couldn't feel those changes as they took place. Falling to her side, she lay exhausted and panting, while the last few transformations finished themselves; and saw the male beside her. He too lay stretched out on the grass—on his belly—gasping from his own change. She watched his back rise and fall with his breathing. For a moment, she thought to flee. Panic—insidious, half-formed—gnawed at her. Who was he? What had just happened? What would Joshua think when he found her missing? Her dreams, nightmares, were real. A groan from beside her brought her focus back to the present. He moved, not much, just tensing his muscles and stretching his arms ahead of himself. Long, sleek muscles, gorgeous ass and powerful legs—again she yearned to reach out and stroke him. She knew it was insane. How could she be so drawn to him—it—she didn't even know what he was, or what she was. The man groaned and turned over. Morgan gasped. Joshua lay facing her. 22

AND THERE WERE BEASTS

His eyes were closed. He had a soft smile on his face as though he were dreaming some sweet dream and was unwilling to awaken. And like her, he was naked. His soft pelt had vanished, or was in the process of doing so as she watched. Fur seemed to melt into him. His face, although close to human, was in the last stages of the change. Chin and cheekbones formed, and then it was him. He squirmed, adjusting his new form more comfortably in the grass. He opened his eyes. Cat eyes, long vertical pupils, peered at her. The gold flecks stood out prominent against the darker center, the white gleamed in the darkness. Glancing up at the sky, she saw nothing but stars. It was just as she thought; the moon had vanished, leaving them in a deeper blackness. Morgan held her breath. If she breathed, she was sure she'd scream. Her heart felt like it was going to strangle her; it was beating so hard and so fast. The sharper sense of hearing was gone; all that remained was the loud drumming of blood pounding through her veins and the deep, steady breathing of the naked man in front of her. Sweat covered her, adding to the scents she couldn't escape—lust and fear, what a heady mix. "Are you all right?" He spoke so softly, she was sure that if she could ignore him, none of it would have happened. She could close her eyes and drift off to sleep. It would be just another one of her strange dreams. Why hadn't she brought her meds? "Morgan," his voice was more insistent that time, harder to ignore. He still hadn't moved, perhaps afraid he'd scare her. "Are you okay? Morgan, please say something?" She blinked and took a deep shuddering breath. The cool night air, brushed her nipples, recting them and making her shiver. Naked. She was naked in the woods. She opened her eyes. He was staring right at her. "Yes," she whispered. It couldn't be a dream then. The spell was broken. When she took another deep breath, she sobbed. Biting her lip, she fought for control. "You're not alone." He smiled. His entire face lit up when he did, and she found herself drawn to him all over again. Her fear slowly faded as her desire leaped ahead. He knew—he understood what was happening to her. Glancing downward, she felt heat wash over her. He was naked. She knew he was, but until that moment, she hadn't felt it. In one incredibly smooth, easy movement, he sat up. Morgan followed him with her eyes, and when he offered her his hand, she eagerly reached for it. That first touch was magic. A thousand fireworks flared and she sensed something special between them. 23

Jude Mason

"Not alone. Never again," she murmured, unaware that she'd actually spoken, until his reply. "No, I'll be with you." He drew her up to a seated position, kept hold of her hand, anchoring her to the present. "If that's what you want." She went smoothly into his arms. She felt as if she was on fire when his cooler chest touched hers. Her nipples were so hard they ached, and she longed for him to suckle them, to ease the pain. Their bodies melded together, two halves of a whole. His breath touched her face, and she inhaled the wild scent of him. His hands pulled her in, and hers leapt to help him. She slid her arms around his neck, sighing when his face moved in closer to hers. His lips parted. He kept his eyes wide as she leaned forward, into the kiss. His tongue slid wetly across her lips, tasting her, teasing with its tip, until she couldn't stop them from parting. He tasted of wildness, mint on his breath and a heady cedar tang to his flesh. She caressed his neck and shoulders, all the while, lost in the sensual passion of his mouth on hers. Entwining tongues dueled, stabbed at each other, while hot breath wafted across fevered cheeks. Breathless, he pulled his mouth from hers and smiled at her when she came forward, seeking more of his lips. "Here, or would you rather go back to the cabin?" He smiled wickedly, mischievously. "I—I…" she tried, but had to take a moment to collect her thoughts. Too much had happened, her dream being true, Joshua being another of whatever she was. She ached to explore the taut muscular body. The reason she'd come to him seemed so distant, unimportant; all she could think of was how she felt and the need rising inside her. "How far is the cabin?" He laughed. Instead of trying to talk her way out of an awkward situation, she'd jumped in eagerly. Lowering her eyes she felt a familiar heat rising, and was glad it was dark. "Not far," he finally said. "You ran in a circle. The cabin is about fifty meters, that-a-way." He pointed back into the forest. Morgan peered into the woods. After a moment, she found what looked like a glimmer of light in the direction he was pointing. "Come on. Let's go." She climbed to her feet, and took off running. "Catch me if you can!" she yelled. 24

AND THERE WERE BEASTS

Branches caught at her naked flesh as she raced through the brush. She ran, and behind her, she heard Joshua roar with laughter as he clambered to his feet. Then he was after her. A quick glance over her shoulder showed him less than five meters behind, and gaining fast. She raced on, determined to beat him to the cabin if humanly possible. It felt amazing to run naked through the woods, to have a man after her, to be so wild and so free that nothing mattered but the chase. The sound of branches slapping flesh warned her that he was close. His breathing placed him behind her on the left, gaining fast. He paced her, kept himself at her shoulder, but didn't increase his speed. Was he allowing her to win? Perhaps he was, but it didn't matter. The cabin was suddenly there. Light in the window beckoned. She found the door an instant before he touched it. She turned the knob, but before she could enter, he swept her into his arms. A moment later the door closed behind them, and the bed was under her. She clung to him, her legs wrapping around his waist. He was still laughing when she tightened her thighs, dragging him down on top of her. The glorious feel of him pressed against her was exhilarating. His hips ground against her inner thighs, bruising the soft flesh. His erection, hot and so hard, nudged insistently at her soft folds. His lips found her nipples, his hands her breasts, and while he looked up into her eyes, he suckled. Flicking his tongue across the sensitive nub sent a jolt straight to her pussy. She clenched. Shuddering, she slipped her hands around his hips to his wellmuscled ass and pulled him into the cradle of her body. She gyrated and thrust against him, longing for the giant trapped between her thighs to find entrance. From one nipple to the other, he tormented her and she loved every second of it. He pulled his lips free, then with the tip of his tongue created a winding trail down her body. She lay breathless, silently screaming for him to go on. He lingered at her navel, twirling his tongue around until she thought she'd go mad. Finally he resumed his journey, wet tongue and hot breath, the soft moans of his arrival at her sparsely furred mound taking her breath. He parted her drenched pussy with the tip of his tongue. When the tip caressed the distended hardened nub of her clit, she saw stars. He flicked his tongue over the ultra-sensitive morsel again, and she couldn't halt the moan that came with her sigh. "Please, I need to touch you." Morgan clutched futilely at his shoulders, her clawed fingers leaving tiny trails of red as she urged him over her. 25

Jude Mason

He released his hold on her hips and allowed himself to be manhandled. His lips and tongue, however, never stopped their teasing caress. She pulled him over her. His luscious cock pulsed, a breath away from her mouth. She leaned up and flicked her tongue over the pearl of pre-come dangling from its tip. The salty, sweet taste coated her tongue. Inhaling, the taste and scent mingled, and she was hungry for more. She flicked her tongue across the soft plum-shaped dome and heard him groan. His cock bounced and tapped her on the chin, as if seeking entrance to her mouth. His soft sack hung close to her eyes, and for a moment she yearned to sample the taste of them before dining on his more readily available, insistent shaft. The gentle thrusting of his hips urged her to take him in. She relented and did so, eager for that first, succulent mouthful. Opening wide, she felt the velvet smoothness glide across her lips as he entered her mouth. Her teeth gently scraped along him, and he groaned his appreciation. His cock was like a wild animal, lurching and throbbing as she sucked it in. She wound her arms around his hips, sliding her hands along the sparsely haired flesh, pulling him closer. His cock sank deeper. She sucked and nibbled at the smooth head, then moved her teeth over the ridge joining head to shaft. She watched his testicles churn higher in their sack, and she reached for them. Softly cradling them, the soft hairs tickled her palm. When she thought she couldn't stand any more pleasure, he increased his own oral worship of her sex. They soared and groaned, gently thrusting hips towards mouths eager to heighten the sensation. Her mind had gone blank. All that mattered was basking in the pleasure his fingers and mouth provided, and desperately trying to return it to him. When he plunged his fingers into her, she came close to losing whatever control she'd managed to hang on to. She clutched at him, taking the last millimeter of him into her throat, burying her nose into his soft fur. She knew he was close, could feel it with each beat of his heart as his cock pulsed in her mouth. But he had other plans. When she moaned with frustration, he pulled away. At first, she refused to release him, but his gentle insistence made her let go. She looked at him, hungry for his seed, frustrated at being denied both her climax and that reward. "Turn over, I want you on your hands and knees, my sweet cat," he murmured in a harsh, demanding voice. His hands shook when he grabbed her hips and urged her to roll over. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts enough to realize what he wanted. 26

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Then, she flipped over and wantonly lifted her ass. Morgan thought he'd plunge right in, but he surprised her. Instead of the round dome of his erection plunging in, his tongue burned a trail down the crease of her ass to the center of her sex. She cried out, as a spasm of sheer bliss shook her. Her pussy clenched on his tongue. Instead of continuing, he withdrew, and with delicious, frustrating ease, he took the lips of her sex and sucked. He targeted her clit and carefully ran his teeth over the taut pearl. Shivers raced up her spine and she sobbed with need. Finally, he relented. Rising behind her, he rubbed himself along the sopping wetness he'd created. He felt huge and hot. She strained backwards trying to capture him. He eased away, tormenting her with his closeness. When she screamed her need, he thrust himself in. In one smooth push he filled her. Her slick wetness gripped him. "Yes!" he hissed, and grabbed her hips tightly. He used them to hold her as he gently eased himself out of her. The soft wet tip of him held at the slick entrance, tempting her to scream again. Lost in the passion of their mating, she snarled instead, and he lunged ahead. His cock touched her cervix and the slight pain made her cry out again. She arched her back, then dropped her face to the bed, presenting her body for his plundering. He took her offer, and after moving his legs a little closer to her body, their mating dance began. At first he took her slowly, but soon his lust took hold and hers answered as he pounded wildly into her. Harder and faster, their bodies slammed together, the sound of flesh on flesh echoing through the cabin. Morgan reached between her legs and slid a finger along where his shaft entered her. His groan told her she'd done right. When she reached back a little further and cupped his balls, his thrusting became urgent. He bent forward and she felt his breath on the back of her neck. His chest, damp with sweat, slid across her back as he whispered, "Come with me, my sexy cat." She felt his teeth then, on her neck. Sharp fangs gripped her, holding her in place while the beast within rutted. Her feline self responded, hunching her back then raising her ass as high as she could. His hips slammed into hers with a final, hard thrust. His snarl grew into a triumphant roar. He erupted deep inside her. His fingers, claw-like, dug into her haunches, held her as he rhythmically slammed against her ass. Her climax echoed his, taking her thundering into a blissful flight of pulsing release. Each time he thrust, she 27

Jude Mason

soared anew, the bed gone, the room around her vanishing, until all she knew was ecstasy. The force of his thrusts lessened, until with a soft groan, he collapsed on her back. His weight felt wonderful and she arched in response. He reached around and pulled her close, then leaned to the side. She went with it and they both rolled onto their sides, with him still gripped within her. His lips on her neck touched where he'd bitten and she flinched. "Sorry," he murmured. "I guess I got a little carried away." He kissed the spot gently and nuzzled her just under her ear. "I've never been able to let go quite like that before." She snuggled into his arms. Her mind flashed back to her race towards the cabin—who or what had been after her—then to her own shape-shifting and the meeting at the lakeside. No longer just a dream, or nightmare, it was real. He was real. "Your father said something to me," she said in barely more than a whisper. She didn't care if he heard, but knew he would. "Somehow, he knew what I was. Even though I never told him about the medication I take to make myself sleep through the nights of the full moon, he knew. He said that there was someone special in my future, someone who would understand me better than I did myself. He meant you." After a long pause, in a voice as soft as hers had been, Joshua said, "Yes." He tightened his grip around her middle and again kissed her on the back of her neck, and then on her shoulder. "Just before he left here, he said something about how I'd meet a woman like me. I have no idea how he knew, but I'm glad he was right." Morgan was too and she wanted to say so, but sleep took her instead.

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Author Bio

Jude’s imagination frequently leads her astray, and she eagerly follows while trying to keep out of trouble. For those of you who know her, you’ll know that’s not always easy. A picture, a smell, an unexpected glimpse of flesh, or a load of soil in the back of a pick-up, are all fodder for her writing. If you’d like to keep up to date with her publishing successes, visit her website.

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