It was a sign of how much better she felt about the world in general that Mackenzie didn’t panic when a gentle hand on her shoulder woke her. She rolled over with a sleepy yawn and blinked at Jackson’s face in the dim light. “Hey.”
He smiled softly as he lowered himself to the bed. “Hey. Mahalia’s making breakfast and Steven just caught a cab. It’s safest for everyone if he leaves now.”
His words distracted her from how nice it was to wake up to his smile. “What do you mean? Why are we safer if he’s gone?”
“Because Talbot can find him,” he answered simply. “Maybe easier than he can find the rest of us. It’s hard to explain.”
She took him at his word and moved closer to slide her arm around him. “You’re staying here though, right?”
“Of course I am.”
Mackenzie smiled, feeling surprisingly at peace. A full night’s sleep in a comfortable bed had done wonders for her state of mind. So had the memory of how amazing Jackson’s body had felt pressing hers into the mattress.
“We said no sex,” she murmured as she rubbed lazily at his back, “but what are your feelings on good morning kisses?”
“Acceptable under most circumstances.” He wrapped a lock of her hair around his finger. “Is that a purely hypothetical question, or were you planning to ravish me?”
She probably had morning breath and most of her hair had escaped its braid to tangle wildly around her head, but she didn’t care. “It depends. Hypothetically, do you have anywhere else you need to be?”
He considered the question with too much deliberateness to be believed. “Hmm. I was going to take a shower, but I might have a little time. Maybe just a few smooches. Like this.” He feathered a kiss across the tip of her nose.
The gesture made her laugh as she played with the hair at the back of his head, just above his neck. “I’m going to kiss you.” She whispered the words against his cheek. “Really, really kiss you. Open mouths and tongues and maybe some whimpering. If you’re not interested, you might want to run.”
Heat flared in his eyes, darkening them. “Oh, I’m interested.”
“Good.” She only had to shift her mouth an inch to the side to catch his lower lip between hers, and she ran her tongue teasingly along it before kissing him in earnest.
He moaned softly and tilted his head, bringing his lips closer to hers, his tongue delving into her mouth as he cupped the back of her neck. His warm, strong fingers on the sensitive skin made her shiver.
She wasn’t sure when she made the conscious decision to move, but she was suddenly on her back, her arms around him as he leaned over her, his mouth leaving hers to skim over the edge of her jaw to her throat. “Is this going to hold you over?”
“No.” She laughed and tilted her head back, loving the feeling of his lips on her. “But I suppose I’ll manage somehow. Especially since Mahalia’s all of thirty feet away right now.”
Jackson rose from the bed. “I’ll be out of the shower in time for pancakes, so save me some, all right?”
“Better hurry. I’m hungry, and she’s a great cook.”
“No argument here.” He gave her an almost tender look before disappearing through the door. Mackenzie crawled out of bed with a bemused smile. It was far too easy to ignore the life-changing events of the past weeks and give in to the giddy thrill that always came with a new crush, or a new—
Relationship? The thought stopped her, and she stood next to the bed with her pants in her hands. A relationship was the last thing she needed at the moment. And yet…
The bemused smile returned, and she couldn’t shake it while she cleaned up and brushed her hair, or while she pulled on her clothes. She couldn’t even banish it when she walked into the kitchen to greet Mahalia. “Good morning.”
“Morning, Mackenzie.” The older woman stirred a bowl of what looked like batter. “Do you like buttermilk pancakes? How about some orange juice? I made Steven squeeze it fresh this morning.”
“Really?” Mackenzie leaned against the counter and watched as Mahalia moved efficiently around her kitchen. “I’ve never had fresh-squeezed orange juice.”
“What?” One perfectly groomed eyebrow rose in surprise. “Now, that just isn’t right. You like sausage or bacon, honey?”
“Either’s fine. Can I help you with anything?”
Mahalia waved her away. “Sit down and rest. You’ve been through a lot, and it isn’t over yet.”
“I suppose it isn’t.” Mackenzie took a seat and drummed her fingers absently on the smooth wood of the table. “Jackson said Steven had to go. That Talbot could find him?”
“Mm-hmm.” Mahalia began to pour the batter on a heated griddle.
“I don’t really understand. But I guess there’s a lot of stuff I don’t understand.” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to, if she was going to be perfectly honest with herself.
Mahalia hesitated as she reached for a spatula. “That part, at least, isn’t complicated,” she admitted. “Talbot will always be able to find Steven because he’s Steven’s uncle.”
“He’s—” She stopped. “Oh. That’s why Steven knows so much about him?”
“That’s why,” she confirmed. “Before you were born, Steven was helping Charles. He thought… Well, he believed his uncle when he said this scheme was the only thing that would save the cougars.” She stared at the griddle, her amber eyes unseeing. “It took him a while to figure out how far Charles would go, though. The things he would do to ensure the ritual’s success.”
Mackenzie considered that as she watched tiny holes appear in the top of the pancakes. “What about Marcus? Is he like me? A kid someone had to…to further this cause?”
“His parents were killed.”
She pulled her gaze away from the pancakes and studied Mahalia, whose tone made it clear she knew more than she’d said. “Who killed them?”
Mahalia glanced away. “They wanted out, I suppose.”
It wasn’t much of an answer, but it was enough. Whoever his parents had been, they hadn’t agreed with Charles’s plan, and Charles had killed them. Just like her parents. Maybe Marcus hadn’t been lying when he’d said they had more in common than she could ever guess. “So Steven warned my parents, and they left?”
“He had to do more than warn them,” Mahalia corrected. “He got them out, got them away.” The faraway look came back into her eyes. “Brought them to New Orleans. To me.”
Mackenzie had never wondered much about her birth parents, but now she couldn’t stop thinking about them. What sort of people they’d been, why they’d decided to throw in with Charles’s plans. Mahalia obviously didn’t like talking about it, but Mackenzie couldn’t stop her questions. “What were they like?”
At first, she wasn’t sure if Mahalia had heard her. The older woman reached into a drawer and drew out a crumpled pack of cigarettes, sighing as she pulled one from the pack and struck a lighter. “Young. Disappointed. Scared.”
“Oh.” She could imagine that easily enough, all things considered. “I guess it wasn’t really a time for social chats.”
“Simon and Janice were very nice. They were just like Steven, and Marcus’s parents. They bought into Charles’s assertions that their race was dying out, because it’s true. Then they found out he was a fanatic. One apparently willing to kill a couple and take their child to raise as his own.” Mahalia took a drag from the cigarette. “Saying it wasn’t exactly a social situation is a bit of an understatement.”
Mackenzie felt color come to her cheeks as she looked at the table. “It’s hard to imagine it. A few days ago, I thought my parents had died in a car crash when I was four. I didn’t remember much of anything from before my adopted parents brought me home. Sometimes I’d have dreams…” A fire, a woman with dark hair and terrified eyes dragging her by the hand, screaming that they had to run faster. The nightmares had plagued her until her parents had taken her to a therapist in the fourth grade.
The dreams hadn’t gone away, not completely. She’d had trouble sleeping most of her life, between the dreams of running through fields and the dreams of running from fire. When she’d gotten older she’d gone through all the usual remedies—special teas, pills, relaxation tapes. Nothing had ever worked. Not until she’d started dreaming about Jackson every time she closed her eyes.