Read Online Under Her Skin by Margo Bond Collins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Margo Bond Collins
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additional body heat anywhere nearby, though the sun shining down warmed the top of my head.
I licked my lips, letting my tongue linger long enough to taste the air around me.
Grass. Dirt.
The mechanized smell of oil and gas coming from my car, still warm in the yard. The pickup beside it had been cold for some time.
People.
And under it all, something else.
Something wild.
Not spicy and hot, like Nevala, but not completely different from him, either.
Fur and claws.
Something feline.
The door swung open just as I recognized the scent, and Preston Bryant froze in place, hand still on the door, eyes wide as he stared at me.
“Move, Preston. It’s that counselor. Let me say ‘hi’.” His little sister shoved him two stumbling steps sideways to take his place. She drew in a deep breath to speak to me, but the words never came.
Whatever she identified in that breath, whatever her shapeshifter senses picked up from me, pushed any other considerations to the side, and instead of saying something, she screamed.
It wasn’t an ordinary scream, either—nothing that could have come from the throat of a six-year-old child. It echoed through the neighborhood with a snarl at the end of it.
I recognized that sound. Not from my shapeshifter senses, but from having spent summers camping with my father as he searched for new specimens, as far outside of civilization as we could get.
It was the scream of a bobcat.
Chapter 11
I stared at the little girl in horror, even as my own inner snake reared up, trying to take over. My vision shifted between colors and gray as I fought against the shift.
“It’s me. Lindi Parker. I’m here to talk to your parents.” The strain of fighting the shift echoed through my voice. A door in the back of the house opened, and the temperature of the room rose at the same time the scent of feline against my tongue intensified. I tamped down harder on my serpent side, even as the children’s mother, in what I now recognized as her human form, padded into the room, accompanied by a full-grown bobcat by her side.
“Step away from the door, kids.” She reached out and gathered her children to her, then gently pushed them into the room behind her. The girl’s hand trailed across the bobcat’s back as she passed him.
I held myself perfectly still as Rita Bryant’s gaze ran up and down me, landing finally on my face, her brows knitted in confusion. “This isn’t new, is it,” she said, the words more statement than question. Running her hands through the fur of the cat beside her, she asked, “How did we miss it before?”
She didn’t seem to expect an actual answer, so I simply turned my palms up in a gesture somewhere between I don’t know and I come in peace . “I’d like to discuss that, if you’re willing.”
At her glance over my shoulder, I stiffened, uncertain whether it would be wiser to turn or stay perfectly still. As a compromise, I allowed just a tiny sliver of my inner snake to seep to the surface to test the air.
A blast of heat and fur slammed into me, overriding all other sensory input, and I carefully twisted around to look behind me.
While I had been stifling my inner nature in an attempt to radiate non-threat to the Bryants, at least a dozen bobcats had flowed silently into the grass between me and my car. Three or four of them were sitting, tufted ears perked forward. But the rest crouched, back ends twitching as they prepared to pounce.
As a child, I had gone through a phase of desperately wanting a kitten, but Dad had reminded me that I was likely to frighten any cat.
These cats weren’t frightened. But I was terrified.
I wasn’t used to being prey.
Human. I am human.
Turning my back on those glowing, predatory eyes was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I drew on every ounce of counselor training I’d ever had and focused on infusing my voice with it. “Ms. Bryant, I would never hurt you or your family.” I spoke softly. “I am here to help
I licked my lips, letting my tongue linger long enough to taste the air around me.
Grass. Dirt.
The mechanized smell of oil and gas coming from my car, still warm in the yard. The pickup beside it had been cold for some time.
People.
And under it all, something else.
Something wild.
Not spicy and hot, like Nevala, but not completely different from him, either.
Fur and claws.
Something feline.
The door swung open just as I recognized the scent, and Preston Bryant froze in place, hand still on the door, eyes wide as he stared at me.
“Move, Preston. It’s that counselor. Let me say ‘hi’.” His little sister shoved him two stumbling steps sideways to take his place. She drew in a deep breath to speak to me, but the words never came.
Whatever she identified in that breath, whatever her shapeshifter senses picked up from me, pushed any other considerations to the side, and instead of saying something, she screamed.
It wasn’t an ordinary scream, either—nothing that could have come from the throat of a six-year-old child. It echoed through the neighborhood with a snarl at the end of it.
I recognized that sound. Not from my shapeshifter senses, but from having spent summers camping with my father as he searched for new specimens, as far outside of civilization as we could get.
It was the scream of a bobcat.
Chapter 11
I stared at the little girl in horror, even as my own inner snake reared up, trying to take over. My vision shifted between colors and gray as I fought against the shift.
“It’s me. Lindi Parker. I’m here to talk to your parents.” The strain of fighting the shift echoed through my voice. A door in the back of the house opened, and the temperature of the room rose at the same time the scent of feline against my tongue intensified. I tamped down harder on my serpent side, even as the children’s mother, in what I now recognized as her human form, padded into the room, accompanied by a full-grown bobcat by her side.
“Step away from the door, kids.” She reached out and gathered her children to her, then gently pushed them into the room behind her. The girl’s hand trailed across the bobcat’s back as she passed him.
I held myself perfectly still as Rita Bryant’s gaze ran up and down me, landing finally on my face, her brows knitted in confusion. “This isn’t new, is it,” she said, the words more statement than question. Running her hands through the fur of the cat beside her, she asked, “How did we miss it before?”
She didn’t seem to expect an actual answer, so I simply turned my palms up in a gesture somewhere between I don’t know and I come in peace . “I’d like to discuss that, if you’re willing.”
At her glance over my shoulder, I stiffened, uncertain whether it would be wiser to turn or stay perfectly still. As a compromise, I allowed just a tiny sliver of my inner snake to seep to the surface to test the air.
A blast of heat and fur slammed into me, overriding all other sensory input, and I carefully twisted around to look behind me.
While I had been stifling my inner nature in an attempt to radiate non-threat to the Bryants, at least a dozen bobcats had flowed silently into the grass between me and my car. Three or four of them were sitting, tufted ears perked forward. But the rest crouched, back ends twitching as they prepared to pounce.
As a child, I had gone through a phase of desperately wanting a kitten, but Dad had reminded me that I was likely to frighten any cat.
These cats weren’t frightened. But I was terrified.
I wasn’t used to being prey.
Human. I am human.
Turning my back on those glowing, predatory eyes was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I drew on every ounce of counselor training I’d ever had and focused on infusing my voice with it. “Ms. Bryant, I would never hurt you or your family.” I spoke softly. “I am here to help
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