Angel and Slate Page 5

  “Well, I’m saying it to your face.”

  “That’s right. You told Miri that you’re a straight shooter.”

  “I am. Some people don’t like that so much.”

  “Well, I do. Generally. Unless you’re criticizing my teeth or telling me that my toes are too fat. That’s just mean.”

  “I promise not to talk about your teeth or your toes.”

  “Thank you.”

  The drive was about twenty minutes, and Angel’s aversion towards awkward silence meant that she kept the conversation as lively as she could for the duration.

  “Tell me about your daughter,” she asked after a few minutes of chatter. “Is she like you?”

  “Gigantic, you mean?” he said.

  “Sort of. I mean, is she a shifter?”

  “She is.” She thought she detected a trace of sadness in the two syllables. It was confirmed when he said, “Unfortunately.”

  “Unfortunate why?”

  “Her mother was a human—like you are. It just always seemed like an easier life to me, yours. Simpler, anyhow. Especially for girls.”

  “Human life isn’t easy,” said Angel. “I mean hell, it’s not hard, but I’ve always envied you shifters.”

  “Why would you envy us? We’re freaks of nature.”

  “No—you are nature,” said Angel. “You’re all the best elements in one. And you can escape humanity, can’t you? Turning into a grizzly sounds fantastic to me.”

  “I’m not sure that most little girls want to turn.”

  “Well, they damn well should.” Angel, seeing the grimace locked on Slate’s face, pushed his upper arm gently with her fingers. He was all hardness and strength, this one. She wanted nothing more than to get him to loosen up, and tried to ignore the fact that she’d just come into contact with some seriously arousing muscles.

  “I’m glad you think so,” he said. “I want people to treat her like she’s normal.”

  “There is no such thing. And besides, no word in the English language is more dull than normal.”

  “You got me. Anyhow, here we are,” he said, pulling up in front of a restaurant called “Two if By Sea.”

  “Let me guess: they serve fish here,” said Angel.

  “Yes—is that a problem?”

  “Not at all. I couldn’t have hoped for anything more perfect than eating fish with a grizzly. I only wish they let you catch it yourself. Like if it had a stream running through with spawning salmon or something.”

  “That’d be interesting,” he replied, escorting her out of her side of the truck. As the two made their way to the door he added, “My daughter wants to learn to fish.”

  “That would be sweet. You should teach her. You know what they say: Give a girl a fish and she’ll eat for a day. Teach her to fish, and she’ll shift into a grizzly.”

  “I’m pretty sure that’s not the saying.”

  “May I help you?” the hostess asked as they entered the establishment.

  “Reservation for Slate,” said the shifter. They were guided to a table in a far corner, a pristine white cloth draped over it, a small wooden chair on either side.

  Angel sat down and watched her date try to ease his way into his own chair, which, next to him, seemed made for a five-year-old.

  “Dainty seating isn’t for bear shifters, it seems,” she exclaimed.

  “No, not so much. But it’ll do.”

  Looking at his face, she sized him up a little: eyes that were intense, very serious and unerringly earnest. Short-cropped hair, a strong jaw and a shallow vertical cleft dividing his chin. His lips were a little pink, a little swollen and entirely biteable.

  “Do you do this often?” he asked her.

  “Go out with grizzlies?”

  “No, I mean eat at restaurants, that sort of thing.”

  “Oh, no. Not so much. I’m a bit of a recluse. And you? Do you eat out much?”

  As the words came out she felt her lips curl upwards as though they’d heard the innuendo before her mind had. Asking a man if he enjoys eating out is as bad as that man asking a woman how she feels about blow jobs.

  But Slate either didn’t get the joke or did an excellent job of hiding it.

  “No, we usually stay in to eat. It’s just hard for us to get out much. I work late, she has homework. All that stuff.”

  Angel was torn between frustration and kindness; a part of her wanted to stop speaking about Slate’s child, and yet she knew that Ruby was the key to learning more about the man himself.

  Still, if he said too much, his daughter would begin to occupy the space between them like a wall, if only metaphorically—and Angel’s plan of fun and frolicking wouldn’t work out so well. But fortunately, Slate seemed to pick up on her feelings without the words being spoken explicitly.

  “But enough about her,” he said. “Let’s talk about something other than the responsibilities of being a single parent.”

  “If you’d like.”

  And so for the next hour as they ate, the conversation moved between every topic from her paintings and her lack of inspiration lately to her house’s structural issues and his job.

  “I could come by and take a look at it, if you’d like,” Slate told her. “I have a lot of building experience.”

  “Really? That would be great. Only, I’m not very rich at the moment so you’d need to give me a quote first.”

  “The quote is free. But maybe you could paint something for me in return. A sad clown on velvet, or dogs playing poker, or something.”

  “It’s a deal,” she laughed.

  “I’ve always wanted to design and build my own house, you know,” he said. “The place we have is fine, but it’s not my dream home by any means.”

  “Oh? So tell me, what’s your dream home like?” The developing intimacy of the conversation was warming Angel from the inside out, as was the glass of wine that she’d been sipping.

  “Somewhere in the countryside,” he said.

  “Well, that’s convenient. My house is in the country.”

  “It’s true, it is.” Slate’s face lit up like a little boy’s, which prompted a twittering laugh from his date.

  “You’re so cute,” she said. “Well, you know since you’ve sort of seen it. It’s on a large plot of land, which is why I bought it. The land is gorgeous. The house is…adequate. But tell me, what would a grizzly shifter’s dream house look like?”

  Slate’s eyes focused on hers as he spoke, as though he were conveying a deeper message than that of a simple description. Maybe he was trying to test her, to see how compatible they were. Angel leaned in to listen, intrigued. “Not too huge. Cozy, I suppose. But with large windows so that a lot of light could pour in in the mornings.”

  “That sounds great.”

  “I have it all drawn up. I just need to find the land someday.”

  “Well, when you build it, I hope I get to see it.”

  “Me too.”

  “And then I hope to persuade you to rebuild mine for free. Well, in exchange for all the paintings you could possibly want.”

  Angel managed to elicit a few more laughs from Slate as the evening went on, and she knew that she was managing, slowly, to extract his true personality from behind that hard shell of his.

  “Do you want to blow this place?” she asked when they’d finished eating. But all of a sudden Slate looked nervous again, his face exhibiting something between trepidation and outright fear.

  “Um,” he said. Would she want to go home? To accompany him home? It wasn’t that he didn’t want to—she was beautiful, entertaining and laid back. And no doubt she was astonishing between the sheets; he’d watched her lips move all evening as she spoke, picturing them more than a few times on various parts of him. Kissing him. Wrapped around his cock. Engaged in any number of other pleasant activities. But it had been so damn long since he’d been with a woman…

  She seemed to understand his hesitancy, and spoke again before he could say no. “I sa
w a pub down the street, with a pool table and a sign that claims they have good beer. How would you feel about a quick game?”

  “That depends. Are you good?” he asked, breathing a silent sigh of relief. Beer and pool would mean delaying the awkwardness of the evening’s end.

  “Oh, no. I’m terrible.”

  “Okay then. And that pub down the street, by the way, is one we grizzlies refer to as ‘The Bear Bar.’”

  “Oh yeah? Why’s that? Is everyone naked?”

  Slate groaned. “B-E-A-R, smartass. It’s owned and run by Ulrika Clan members. One of the part-time bartenders is actually Miri’s mate, Malcolm.”

  “Oh, really?” That was interesting. “Is he nice?”

  “He’s a really good guy, yeah. Don’t know if he’ll be there tonight; he’s working on becoming a doctor so he’s usually over at the hospital these days.”

  “Man. You shifters are a talented bunch, aren’t ya?”

  “He is. Me, not so much. But I can make a mean burger, so that’s something. Oh, and I can cut construction paper with safety scissors like nobody’s business.”

  “I’ll bet you can do a whole lot more than that,” Angel said, her inflection full of not so hidden meaning. She leaned towards him, elbows on the table, her face in her hands as she grinned at him.

  “I don’t sing show tunes, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

  “That is so not what I’m hinting at, hot bear man.”

  He chuckled again. “You’re a bit of a dirty birdie, you know that?”

  “Hey, I showered just before I came out with you. I’ll have you know that I’m very clean.”

  “Mmm hmm,” Slate hummed skeptically as he summoned the waiter over for the bill.

  “Can we split this?” Angel asked.

  “I asked you out,” he said, handing over a credit card. “So I pay.”

  “I should accuse you of being chauvinistic or something, but instead I’ll just thank you and say I’ll get it next time.” The words came out before she’d really thought them through. She was anticipating a second date already—well, after all, she enjoyed him. And what was there not to enjoy? He was gorgeous, sexy in that quiet, brooding way, and she wanted to know more about him.

  On the other hand, maybe she’d just made an ass of herself by assuming that there would even be another date.

  “Next time, you may pay,” he said, the left side of his mouth curling up once again. Angel was already learning everything there was to know about that left side—it was always the first to turn upwards when a grin was coming, and seemed almost to defy him by taking over without his permission. “Let’s go shoot some pool,” he said when he got his card back. “If I’m really lucky, I’ll get to show you how to hold a cue.”

  Chapter 7

  The Bear Bar was warm and inviting; lots of dark wood, dim lighting and the general vibe of a lot of laid back grizzlies enjoying a few pints. Angel liked it immediately.

  The pool table was clear and empty, and she darted over as soon as she saw it, claiming it for them both. Slate watched her as he approached the bar where Malcolm had been serving drinks all evening.

  “Hey Slate, how are things?” his fellow Clan member asked. “I hear that you met with Miri the other day.”

  “I did,” he admitted, nodding towards Angel as though to show off the fruits of his endeavour. Normally he would have been reluctant to divulge anything so personal, but as a member of the Clan and Miri’s mate, Malcolm would be all for the pairing.

  The bartender’s eyes wandered over towards the woman who was currently chalking up a pool cue as she eyed Slate, a mischievous, inviting smile on her face.

  “She’s really something, isn’t she?” he said, his tone respectful but complimentary. There was no hint of envy in his voice; after all, he was madly in love with his cougar shifter mate. But Slate could tell that he approved.

  “Yeah, she’s…a lot to take in,” he said. “I mean, she’s energetic and enjoys life. I’m used to that sort of energy from my daughter; not from an adult.”

  “It’s good to have in an adult, trust me. Keeps us young,” said Malcolm. “You should take advantage of her enthusiasm. Besides which, she’s totally into you.”

  “Yeah?”

  Malcolm let out a guffaw. “Dude, you know she is, or have you lost your nose? Come on, man. You’re a grizzly.”

  Slate sniffed the air briefly. He’d been wound so tightly for most of the evening that he hadn’t taken advantage of his heightened senses to read Angel thoroughly. But now he scented her, as he’d done when he’d first gotten out of his truck, and there it was: sex, desire, her body sending waves of pheromones his way to let him know how welcome he was. That delicious, heady aroma that lay between a woman’s legs when she craved a man.

  “To be honest, I’m not sure that I even know what to do anymore,” he admitted quietly, his body in a momentary state of tension. He should have been happy to be offered such a woman as a gift for the evening, but instead terror was rising up, a tsunami of dread in his chest. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone.”

  “I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Malcolm said, thrusting two beer steins at his friend. “You’re an animal, and she’s eager for you. But maybe your problem is that your grizzly’s disappearing. When was your last shift?”

  Slate went quiet. “It’s been so long that I can’t even remember when it happened,” he admitted.

  “Well, don’t put it off too much longer,” the bartender warned him. “You’ve got to release the bear, just like you have other needs that need release. Denying the grizzly is like holding your breath for months on end. It’s not healthy.”

  “You’re right. I just haven’t found time, I guess, to look after myself. I have too much going on.”

  “If you’re worried about the bear’s effect on Ruby…”

  “It’s fine,” growled Slate. “Ruby’s fine.”

  Malcolm put his hands up, palms out. So, it seemed that he’d found the real source of Slate’s issues. “Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to delve into your personal life, or to get into parenting talk. It’s not like I’m a father, so I have no clue what you’re dealing with. But I am a grizzly and I do know this: just remember who you are. It can get away from us sometimes.”

  Slate took the beers by their handles. “Sorry,” he said. “You’re right. I worry about her, and about myself. One of the last times I shifted I fought—it was nothing, really. Just a wolf on a neughbour’s property, making trouble. But I don’t like her seeing me when I get like that. So I hesitate, partly for her sake. It makes me feel like a bad father when I lose control.”

  “Is that the only thing?”

  “No.” For a moment Slate fought against a pain in his chest. “It’s just, she’s so innocent, you know? I feel like something in her will change, the more she shifts. I want to keep the little girl around. But every time she sees my grizzly, she talks about the ‘bear cub.’ She wants to be like her old dad, and it breaks my heart.”

  “So let her. Just let her be free. It’s a gift to be a shifter. We can look after ourselves from a very young age, remember.”

  “Yeah, but she’s a half-breed.”

  “There’s no such thing,” Malcolm chastised. “If she has grizzly in her, she’s strong. Stronger than you think, by far. You don’t have to worry so much, Slate. It’ll kill you—and your life—if you don’t let go.”

  Slate went silent. He knew that his friend and fellow Clan member was right.

  “As for fighting,” added Malcolm, “there’s going to be some of that coming. Word has it that the Wolf Alpha’s on his way out. So you’re not alone—just remember that, if you worry that you’re being too aggressive. Sometimes we have to be. It’s in our blood.”

  “Wait—someone’s finally taking Char down?”

  “Yeah. That’s the plan, as I understand it. And hopefully sooner rather than later.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.
That’s good news.” Slate began to turn away. “Thanks for the beers—and tell Miri thanks, too. For that.” He nodded his head towards Angel.

  “You can thank Miri yourself, by relaxing and enjoying what you have waiting for you over there,” said Malcolm, patting Slate on the shoulder. “For one night, forget your damn responsibilities and let loose. Let your instincts guide you. Open up. We men seem to think it’s more masculine to shut ourselves down, but in my experience, a little communication with a lady can go a long way.”

  Slate sniffed the air again. There was really only one thing to do: exactly what Malcolm had suggested. Angel wanted to get to know him intimately, and he knew it. She was open to him. Maybe he should do her the same honour and stop being so fucking uptight about everything.

  Inside him the grizzly let out a low rumbling growl; a possessive sound, rather than an antagonistic one. The woman across the room was perfect, and his bear knew it, even if the mind of the man standing in that bar felt uncertain.

  So, it was time to let the grizzly take the lead.

  Still standing by the pool table, his date had begun swaying gently to the music that throbbed through the bar’s floor, her dance partner the cue that she gripped in her hands. Slate’s eyes caught hers for a moment as she seductively moved her hips back and forth, and he could only hope that this was a preview of what might come later in the evening. He could have her, he knew now. She was offering herself to him, even if she didn’t know it herself.

  And he suddenly wondered if he’d be able to make his way across the floor to her without breaking into a wild sprint.

  * * *

  Angel had been standing at the pool table for some time, watching the two men interact for several minutes. They were both so large, so…handsome. But her eyes had stayed on Slate, observing while his face cycled through a series of emotions from amusement to anger and back again. There was a volatility to him that reminded her of a pendulum swinging violently back and forth. This wasn’t uncommon among shifters, from what she understood; the animals who often seemed dormant inside them were anything but. They were always in there, colouring the shifter’s perception of the world and his surroundings. The grizzly was his soul, protective, powerful and probably occasionally even a little violent.