Frustrated, she made a sudden dart at him and yanked the coat off his shoulders. His folded wings spread out in an instinctive startle reflex, framing him within their span. His skin looked very white against that stark black, as if he was a statue carved from marble and onyx. Blood was smeared across the strong muscles of his bare chest like a warrior angel returned from battle. His eyes shone copper with surprise.
"Carter, you idiot, you're hot,” said Fen. “You're not a monster, so stop saying that. I know you don't want the wings and obviously you have to get rid of them, but you are every bit as sexy and gorgeous like this as you are in your normal body. You're like some hot dark angel. And if you don't believe me, let's go to bed right now and I'll prove it to you."
"It's not about how I look!" His shout seemed to shake even the sturdy walls of the house. The despairing gray of his eyes was shot through with streaks of self-loathing orange and angry scarlet. "It's about who I am. I turned into a monster because Iama monster. This isn't something that randomly happened to me. It's my punishment. I did something terrible and now I'm getting what I deserve."
"What are you talking about? Don't tell me you’re still hung up on the hostile takeover of Little Bit! Sure, I was mad at the time, but –"
"It's not about that!"
"Well, what is it then?"
Carter hunched his shoulders, gazing down at the floor. His eyes turned a color she'd never seen before, a muddy gray–brown. She thought it might be shame. "You don't want to know.”
"You mean, you don't want to tell me."
"No. I don't." He sat down heavily on the sofa, clumsily folding his wings across his back. "But I guess this is the only way to make you leave. Because you won’t want to be in the same room with me once you find out what sort of monster I really am."
Chapter 26
Carter’s Story
This story starts three years ago. I'm sure you remember the year, because it's when I tried to take over Little Bit. It was a good year for me, up to a point. Everything I touched seemed to turn to gold. I didn't succeed in taking over Little Bit, but that was all right. Mostly, I’d wanted to get under your skin and I was pretty sure I’d done that.
I had a place in Las Vegas then, living the high life. The only thing that bothered me was that I was lonely. I dated lots of women, but I always knew they weren't my mate. It really puts a damper on first dates when you already know they’re not the love of your life and never will be. But not every shifter ever finds their mate. I was starting to think it just wasn't going to happen for me.
Then I met a woman. Her name was Fiona, and she wasn't my mate either. But I liked her. I liked her a lot. She was beautiful and smart and sophisticated, which as you know is my type. We were taking it slow, but I started thinking we might get serious someday.
I’d broken up with women before because I got the feeling that they liked my money and fame and persona more than they liked me as a person. They didn't want to date me, they wanted to date the famous Carter Howe. I never got that feeling with Fiona.
Until I did. I don't remember exactly what made me start to wonder. Maybe it was something she said or something she did. Maybe it was nothing but me being paranoid because I’d gotten burned in the past. But whatever the reason was, I got suspicious enough that I looked into her background. And I don’t mean checking her Instagram. I did a full-on, hacker-style investigation. I’d never done that before and I felt like a real jerk.
But in retrospect, I think I must have gone that far because I was sensing something real. It turned out that her entire identity was completely fake. It was a good fake, but not good enough.
She wasn't dating me because she loved me or even liked me. And she wasn't dating me because she liked getting her picture taken with me and going to fancy restaurants and ski resorts. She was a con artist. She dated rich men, she hacked into their bank accounts, and she drained them dry.
I was furious and I was hurt, and I felt like an idiot for having been taken in. Then I thought maybe I misunderstood the situation somehow. Maybe someone had framed her. Or maybe she really was a scammer, but she wasn't targeting me. Even con artists have to have real relationships with somebody, right?
So I set a trap for her. She came over to my house one night. We were supposed to go to the opera. I told her I had to make a business call and it’d take about fifteen minutes, and I went into my bedroom and closed the door. And I left her alone with my laptop.
I'd set up hidden cameras in the living room with monitors in the bedroom. I sat on my bed and watched while Fiona hacked into my laptop, set up remote access on it so she could get into it from her own computer, then wiped off her fingerprints, sat down on the sofa, and pretended to read a book.
It wasn't my actual laptop with my actual accounts on it, of course. It was a spare that I’d set up so it looked like my real one, and I’d given it protections that were easy to break. I’d just wanted to see what she’d do.
I came back in and showed her the videos I taken. I didn’t have any real plan beyond finding out what she was up to. I probably wouldn't have called the police—I was too embarrassed that she’d fooled me. I think I just wanted to have her stop lying to me for one second.
But she didn't. First she claimed she was an FBI agent investigating me, then she made a grab for her purse. I thought she might have a gun in it, so I got to it first and threw it across the room. At the time, I thought I was just trying to make sure she couldn't get to her weapon. But I was angry, too. I think I scared her more than I’d realized. She tried to leave, and I stood in front of the door and demanded that she stop lying to me.
She panicked and bolted into my kitchen, I assume trying to get out the back door. But she was wearing high heels and a floor-length gown. Fiona tripped in the kitchen, hit her head on a marble countertop, and knocked herself out cold.
It all happened so fast. One moment I was confronting her, and the next moment she was unconscious on the floor with what looked like a serious head injury. That was when I panicked. I thought of taking her to the emergency room, but I wasn't sure how much they could even do for her. Shifters recover from injuries much better than humans do. Remember how those Most Dangerous Game guys hit me over the head and knocked me out? If I hadn't been a shifter, they easily could have killed me by accident.
The thing was, part of me still liked her. I didn't want her to die or have headaches for the rest of her life or anything like that. And also, I was afraid of what she might say if I did take her in. What if she said I'd hit her over the head or pushed her? After all, she was a professional liar, and I'd already confronted her. What if she thought the only way she could stay out of jail was to accuse me instead?
Then I got an idea. If I bit her and made her into a snow leopard, it would give her shifter healing and make sure she recovered from the concussion. It would also make sure that she never accused me of anything, because then she’d be the one with a story no one would ever believe. And it’d give me the chance to get revenge on her in a way that wouldn't do her any permanent damage, but would really teach her a lesson.
I thought.
I turned into a snow leopard and bit her hand. Then I scooped her up, high heels and fancy jewelry she probably stole from someone else and scarlet evening gown and all, and I dumped her in my plane. I flew out to the coldest, snowiest mountain I could find that had a place to land on. I picked her up again, hiked out far enough that she couldn't see the plane, and dumped her in a snowfield. Then I shifted so I could blend in with the landscape, and I watched her until she woke up.
