Songbird (14 page)

The delighted squeal of four-year-old Macy, as she bolted from the back porch, put matching smiles on her fathers’ faces. Taggert swung her high into the air before settling her atop his shoulders. Her chubby little hands smacked against his cheeks as she held on for dear life.

“Hey, short stuff. Your mama still writing?”

“Uh huh. She’s talking to herself again.”

Taggert looked at the swing on the porch to see Emily hunched over her guitar, pencil between her teeth and a notepad on her lap. It was a pretty funny sight given the advanced stage of her pregnancy and the fact that her lap wasn’t near what it used to be.

He swung Macy down then tossed her into the air to Greer who caught her as she screeched in approval.

“Do it again! Do it again!”

Greer tucked her under one arm and mounted the steps to the porch. Emily looked up and let the pencil fall from her mouth.

“You’re back!”

The welcome in her eyes never failed to turn Taggert’s heart over in a series of somersaults.

“You must be deep in your writing if you couldn’t hear Macy’s squeals. I’m pretty sure they heard her in Canada,” Taggert said.

She smiled at the wiggling bundle in Greer’s grasp. “I’m trying to get this song finished today. Words are coming faster than I can get them down.”

Taggert sat on the swing next to Emily and brushed a kiss across her temple. Then he let his hand slide over the swollen mound of her belly. The baby rolled, causing a ripple in her dress.

“How is the little one today?”

She smiled and her entire face lit up as she covered his hand with her own. “He’s good. He’s been up all afternoon. I’m hoping that means he’s getting his days and nights back in order.”

“God, me too,” Greer muttered. “Would be nice to sleep at night.”

Emily leveled a stare at Greer. “I’m the one he keeps up at night, thank you very much.”

Taggert chuckled. “And you, in turn, keep us up, thank you very much.”

She scrunched up her nose. “Sorry. It’s hell being eight months pregnant. I figure if I must suffer then so should you.”

Greer sat in one of the rockers and plopped Macy into his lap. “You hear that, short stuff? Your mama has a mean streak in her.”

“Daddy mean, Mama nice.”

Both Greer and Taggert jerked their heads up in surprise at that announcement. Emily had the grace to flush. Then she laughed and made a shushing sound at Macy.

“You, my dear, have a big mouth.”

“Ah so Mama has been spreading propaganda,” Greer said with a grin.

“It’s never too early to teach them the way of things,” Emily said primly.

Taggert chuckled and pulled Emily into his side. She let the guitar slide forward and propped the end against her leg. A breeze elicited a shiver from her, and she snuggled a little closer.

He sighed, and it was the sound of a deeply contented man. Life was good. He wasn’t the sort to get all maudlin, but even he had to stop every once in a while and marvel at the gifts he’d been given.

The rapid bump bump against his side had him looking down.

“Active little rascal isn’t he?”

Macy slid from Greer’s lap and crawled onto Taggert’s.

“His name is Sean,” she pronounced.

Emily, Taggert and Greer all shared a bittersweet smile. There had never been any doubt that their son would have Sean’s name. Emily had shared the experience she’d had when she’d hovered between life and death in the hospital as she’d lain recovering from the extensive wounds.

Greer and Taggert both cherished the unselfish gift their brother had given them, and they were eternally grateful to Sean for loving Emily when she’d so needed support.

“Yes, munchkin, his name is Sean,” Emily said as she reached to pull her daughter onto her lap. “Put your hand here and say hello to your brother.”

Instead of putting her hand on Emily’s belly, Macy leaned down and smacked her lips noisily against the mound. Emily’s delighted laughter rang out through the air.

Taggert was enchanted, and Greer was no less so. Yes, life was good. Emily had embraced her singing career though she didn’t keep the hectic tour schedule she had before. There was no longer a reason to stay away from the place she called home.

Much of her time was spent songwriting. She recorded most, but other artists also picked up her titles. In her most recent venture, she’d released an album of lullabies, all of which she’d written when she was pregnant with Macy.

Taggert’s favorite times, however, weren’t of hearing her songs on the radio, though his pride knew no bounds over her success. No, the times he cherished the most were when she took her guitar and sang for her family.

Their songbird had traveled a long, winding road home, but she was here and that was all that mattered.

To learn more about Maya, please visit www.mayabanks.com. Send an email to Maya at [email protected] or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Maya. http://groups.yahoo.com/group/writeminded_readers

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© 2009 Maya Banks

A beautiful, vulnerable woman appears at the high country cabin where Hunter and Jericho live between assignments. They are captivated by their stunning, reticent visitor and vow to protect her—and uncover what she’s hiding. Neither is prepared for the unbelievable. Their beautiful innocent is a cougar shifter who’s spent a lifetime alone.

In the shelter of their love, Kaya blooms, finally willing to trust—and embrace her humanity again. Then Hunter and Jericho are called away on a mission that goes terribly wrong. Now, pregnant, and alone once more, she must find her way in a world she doesn’t belong to—and hope that the two men she loves will find their way home.

Warning: This title contains explicit sex, adult language, sweet lovin’, multiple partners and ménage a trois.

Her eyes glowed in the dark as she stared, alert and listening for movement. It was time.

There on the floor of the porch, the golden brown fur rippled and blurred. Pink skin replaced animal hide. Long, honey colored hair, feminine tresses, flowed down her neck as the eyes of the cat became human.

Fingers curled and dug into the hard floor, and a human gasp of pain hovered in the room as her injured hand protested the change.

Never before had she attempted to shift when she was so close to humans. But she needed food, and she needed the rejuvenation her human form would bring. It had been too long since the cat had made a kill. Game had been scarce.

Now that she was human again, the raw meat of her prey was no longer enticing. Her mouth watered, and her stomach growled at the thought of cooked food. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d enjoyed such a luxury.

She picked herself up and stood, wavering on unsteady legs. Chills chased up and down her naked skin, causing an uncontrolled shiver to quake her spine.

“I am Kaya,” she whispered as she stared down at her human form. It was a reminder, one she gave herself on the few occasions she embraced her humanity. Over the years, her memories had become fuzzy, and it was hard to separate what was real with what was fantasy.

She had been forgotten by the humans, but she wouldn’t let herself forget her past or her heritage.

On silent feet, she crept toward the cabin door, testing the lock. To her relief, it opened easily and she slid inside the much warmer interior. After so long of seeking what warmth she could in dens and small caves, the heated interior of the cabin was as close to heaven as she would ever come.

For a moment she simply stood there, soaking in the warmth, allowing her insides a slow melt. Then, remembering that she was no longer the cat, she hurried forward. It wouldn’t do for the two men to discover her.

Jericho and Hunter.

She didn’t know why she’d been drawn to them or what possessed her to seek them out each time they returned to their cabin. Maybe it was her own loneliness and desire to be around other humans even when she herself was not in human form.

A large shirt lay carelessly over a chair as if thrown there without thought. Her hand reached out and caressed the soft material. She inhaled, scenting the male who’d worn it last. The one called Jericho.

She loved his smell. Him and the one called Hunter. It was what had first drawn the cougar to the isolated cabin high in the Rocky Mountains.

She knew from their conversations that they were as mistrustful of other humans as she was. Had they been cast aside like her? Forgotten?

They liked her and looked forward to her visits. The idea that her company brought them pleasure gave her an inexplicable thrill.

The material of the shirt felt good against her fingertips, and without thought, she picked it up and wrapped it around her body. It enveloped her, brushing across her skin like the warm spring sun after a harsh winter.

She quickly buttoned it, even though it would be ruined when she shifted back. It was a temporary pleasure she wouldn’t deny herself. She enjoyed so few that she clung tenaciously to this one.

Irritated that such a simple treat could sidetrack her from her goal, she hurried into the kitchen, the smell of fresh food guiding her. Her mouth watered as she found a pot of a wonderful-smelling concoction on the stove and next to it a half-eaten round of cornbread.

She stared impatiently at the meat mixture in the pot and sniffed, trying to ascertain the contents. It didn’t matter. She was so hungry, she could eat anything.

Grabbing the large spoon, she dipped it into the pot and brought it to her mouth. She slurped hungrily at the food even as her injured hand reached for the cornbread to the side. When she lowered the spoon to get more, she stuffed a piece of the cornbread in her mouth, chewing rapidly.

She worked at it indelicately, shoveling food into her mouth in an attempt to soothe the desperate hunger beating at her.

“What the hell?”

She froze and then jerked around, her heart pounding viciously. Jericho stood in the doorway to the kitchen, his eyes dark and his expression hard. The light was on behind him in the living room. She hadn’t even registered it or him coming into the kitchen so absorbed was she in eating.

She dropped the spoon with a clatter and immediately sidestepped to try and get around him.

“Whoa now,” he said in a soothing voice. He held out his hands in a placating manner even as he circled toward her. “I’m not going to hurt you, lady. I just want some questions answered. Like what the hell you’re doing in my kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt?”

“Jericho?” Hunter’s sleepy voice, laced with grumpiness, reached her ears. “Who the hell are you talking to?”

Kaya used that moment of inattention, when Hunter rounded the corner of the kitchen and laid shocked, angry eyes on her, to her advantage. When Jericho turned to Hunter, she launched herself across the kitchen and past Jericho.

She heard his curse and then the pounding of feet as he took off after her, but she was out already. She burst onto the porch and flew to the door, her last barrier to freedom.

Fumbling only for a split second with the hook, she flung it open and leaped into the snow. The cold was a shock to her bare skin, but she didn’t stop. Finding the harder, packed snow, she flew across the ice and headed for higher ground. The safety of her den.

She couldn’t be certain whether they followed, so she didn’t shift. Her footprints would lay heavy in the snow, and she couldn’t very well leave a trail that showed human prints turning to animal. And there was the shredded shirt she’d leave behind.

She backtracked several times, trying to mess up the vivid prints she knew she was leaving. And then, as the moon lifted higher in the sky, light snow began to fall, and she gave thanks to the great maker for the protection offered.

She stumbled back onto the familiar trail, numb with cold and fear. The adrenaline that had coursed so readily through her veins, lending strength and endurance, had rapidly diminished, leaving her weak and shaky.

The cougar stirred within her, restless and edgy, wanting freedom it was unused to being denied. It sensed the human was weak and in need of protection.

Kaya leashed the cat, using all her strength to ward off the shift. Not now. Not when she was open and vulnerable. Just a few more feet. She could make it. She was too weak to shift anyway.

The wind picked up as the snow began falling harder. Bitter and unrelenting, it pierced her skin and the meager protection Jericho’s shirt offered.

She stumbled across the smooth rock outcropping and hovered precariously close to the edge. Below was vast nothingness, shrouded in darkness. A river, shrunk down to nothing, carved its way through the valley she stood above. In the spring, it would roar with the rains and melting snow.

Weakly, she walked, and when she fell, she crawled toward the entrance to the small cave etched into the rock. It faced south, protected from the fierce north winds. On hands and knees she forced herself those final few feet until she was out of the wind and snow and into the warmth offered by the cave.

She crawled to the innermost portion and huddled against the wall, exhausted and weak. She needed to shift. Needed the warmth of the cougar’s fur and much stronger body mass. But she couldn’t keep her eyes open long enough to allow the cat its freedom.