Z-SFamiliarStrangely FamiliarCari Z.PhazeCopyright © 2009 by Cari Z.Erotica/Romance. 15594 words long. enNovelettext/xmlErotica/Romance

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Strangely Familiar
by Cari Z.
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Erotica/Romance

Phaze
www.phaze.com

Copyright ©2009 by Cari Z.

NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.

CONTENTS

Strangely Familiar

About the Author

* * * *

Published by Phaze Books

This is an explicit and erotic novel

intended for the enjoyment

of adult readers. Please keep

out of the hands of children.

www.Phaze.com

Strangely Familiar

A Phaze Roar HeatSheet by

CARI Z.

[Back to Table of Contents]

Strangely Familiar copyright 2008-9 Cari Z.

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

A Phaze Production

Phaze Books

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Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222

Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

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www.Phaze.com

Cover art © 2008 Debi Lewis

Edited by Shell Dowdey

eBook ISBN-13: 978-1-60659-145-1

First eBook Edition—March, 2009

Printed in the United States of America

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“Are you excited?”

Cecily Mason glanced over at her mother. “Is that what this sinking feeling is?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Brenda Mason enfolded her youngest daughter in a hug. “It's exciting, admit it. Finally, you're coming into your own! Getting your own familiar is the last step before actualizing your birthright and becoming a full member of the coven!”

Cecily grinned. “Only shrinks use words like actualizing, Mom.”

“Call me Doctor Mason, then.” Brenda touched the silver earrings dangling from Cecily's ears. “Oh, Cess, I'm so proud. Your sisters are all very excited, too!”

“I know.” It was true, they were. It was just a little different from her mother's maternal pride. Her sisters were going to be at the summoning today because they loved her, because they supported her, because ... well, because they were interested. Curious. Four daughters were already powerful witches, each one had a magnificent familiar: owl, fox, black bear and stag. Now it was Cecily's turn.

Goddess, she wanted to throw up. Wouldn't that be hilarious, puking her guts out in front of the coven leaders and all her family? The Masons had been witches in Philadelphia since they'd come over from England over two centuries ago, and their family was highly ranked within the supernatural community. Her father was an artificer, one of the few people who understood enough about magic and technology to combine them in useful, innovative ways. Her mother was second in command of a powerful Philadelphia coven of witches. Her sisters were all excellent practitioners in their own right and oversaw the safety of their neighborhoods quite successfully.

“You'll be fine,” her mother murmured. “As if I'd let anything bad happen to my baby. Come on, dear, the sisters will be arriving. We need ten to summon your familiar, and that's four more than even this family has handy.”

The altar room was packed with people. Cecily's father was there as well, but when he saw her he came over, kissed her forehead, and then left. Tonight was a night for the women.

The four senior witches were already preparing to enter their meditative states, and Brenda rushed over to join them. They would provide the stability for the spell. Cecily and her sisters would provide the power, with Cecily focusing as hard as she could on calling the familiar that would be with her for the rest of her life, assisting her with her casting, increasing the power of her spells, and being her companion.

None of the other familiars were in the room; it would have been ridiculously tight. Cecily's sisters came over to her, smiling, highly anticipatory. Brigit was the oldest—responsible, wise, and fierce. Her owl suited her perfectly. Danielle was smaller, witty, fast. Her hair was the same color as her fox familiar's coat. Hannah was the biggest of them all, physically powerful and imposing, the perfect bear. Then there was Katrina—slender, flighty, and as beautiful as her own familiar.

All of their ceremonies had gone perfectly, with everyone satisfied. She had so much to live up to ... what would she get? What would she possibly get? All her sisters had had dreams beforehand, something that in some way gave them a hint about what to expect. She hadn't had any strange dreams. At least, none with animals in them...

Cecily tried to reign in the blush she knew was going to be blooming on her face. Probably it was the stress, but the erotic dreams she had been having over the last week were the most intense she'd ever experienced. Like, wake yourself up out of sleep gasping and rubbing your slick thighs together intense. She felt the red rising in her cheeks. Great.

“I know, it's hot in here,” Hannah said. “Too many people in a small space.”

“Really hot. Do you think I left enough room for the circle?” Cecily asked anxiously, going with the excuse.

“I can't imagine you'll get something bigger than that,” Katrina said in a slightly condescending tone.

Hannah frowned at her. “Don't be snarky, Katie, tonight's not for you. It's for Silly.”

Cecily groaned. “Don't call me that.”

“You make a good Silly,” Danielle said. “It's a compliment, it says you know how to have fun!”

“Playground and squirt guns kind of fun,” Katrina added. Hannah slapped the back of her head. “Ow!”

“Hey.” Brigit finally broke in, her voice serious. “Calm down and get ready for the summoning. We need to focus.” She took her youngest sister a little way off to the side. Cecily felt herself relax a little. Of all of her family, Brigit was the only one who treated her like an adult. “Ready?”

“I guess so ... I'm so nervous.”

“What's supposed to happen will happen. Let go of fear. Focus on what's in your heart. The right thing will come to you.”

“Thanks.” She leaned her head close to Brigit's for a moment. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

All too soon it was time. They sat down along the outside of the circle, knees nearly touching. The five elder witches were chanting softly, hands joined, eyes focused on the elaborate markings inside the summoning circle Cecily had chalked there earlier. Cecily sat in the middle of her sisters, holding hands with Brigit and Katrina. They were mustering their power, adding it to the mix, and the spell blossomed in her mind's eye, beautiful but amorphous, a hovering fog of ever-changing colors hanging over the circle, waiting to coalesce. It was her turn to concentrate.

Cecily shut her eyes, trying not to get distracted or let her nervousness get the better of her. Visualize what you need ... visualize what you want. It will come to you.

Easier said than done. What did she need? Strength to accentuate strength, wisdom to compliment wisdom? Beauty, or speed? No. The problem was, Cecily didn't know what she needed. She had never been allowed to fail. She had never done anything without the approval of her family, their guidance and love. She'd had plenty of that. What she didn't have was anything unique, anything that had ever challenged her. Who was she, really? Cecily didn't know. She felt sometimes like she was a reflection of all her elders, the result of patient poking and prodding and expectation. She needed something totally different. Something challenging.

There, on the edge of her consciousness. A tremor, something clawing its way into her mind. She breathed in deep, trying to open her mind and let the presence make itself better known. Colors swirled, shades of gold and green and black working their way to the forefront.

Strong. Fierce. Confused, hurt, and lovely. Emotions hit Cecily like blows from a hammer, falling one right after the other into her brain. She gasped, her eyes momentarily flying open at the intensity of the creature's pain. It was an immediate sense of recognition, a sudden kinship. What was it?

“Come to me,” she breathed, certain now that this was the familiar for her. It called to her, siren-like, irresistible. Something she could help, something for her alone that would help her in return. What was it? “Come to me.”

It was so hard. One second she felt the pull strongly, could almost see the animal, but the next it was gone, almost impossible to reach. She began to chant along with the elders, focusing her powers. She reached out with the spell, grabbed the creature's essence, and pulled.

Suddenly the mist shrank, silhouetting a low, stocky form before suddenly popping like a soap bubble. In its place was her familiar. At first groggy, after a few moments it sat up, then stood. It growled.

Cecily was transfixed. “A jaguar.”

“It's huge!” her sister Hannah marveled.

“It's not under your control yet,” Melinda, the coven's leader, snapped. “Touch it, Cecily, connect your minds.”

She reached out, both physically and mentally. The bond was there between them, and she drew the jaguar's face towards her own. It continued to snarl, clearly angry. When she put her hand on its shoulder, it reared back and clawed her.

“Ahh!” Cecily drew her hand back in astonishment, looking down at three-inch long scrapes on her forearm that were just starting to well with blood.

“Cess, control it!” her mother ordered.

“I can't get in,” she replied desperately. “I can feel him, but I can't enter his mind.”

Melinda glared at the jaguar pacing the circle, which suddenly seemed way too small to contain it. “Is it ... no, surely not!” Nevertheless, she pulled a small dry charm from a satchel on her belt, throwing it at the jaguar. “Show yourself, creature!”

Cecily was about to object when suddenly the jaguar melded into a human. Not just a human, a man. A huge, dark, naked man. And he looked pissed off. “Oh, Goddess,” she whispered.

He stood up, glaring at her. “Who are you? How did you force me here?” He spoke English with a thick Brazilian accent.

“A were,” Melinda muttered.

“A were?” Cecily knew her voice was shrill, but she couldn't help it.

“How could that happen?” Brenda demanded. “I've never heard of such a thing before in my entire life!”

The man suddenly squatted before Cecily, his eyes filled with anger, rage in his voice. “A witch,” he hissed. “What spell is this, witch?” If looks could kill, Cecily would be bleeding out on the floor. She felt the connection between them tremor, as though twanged like a string. It was there, but tenuous and fragile. His reddish-brown eyes captured hers, smoldering like coals in his broad face. His skin was dark brown, and his head was shaved. She didn't let her eyes travel past his face, knowing that way lay danger, not to mention distraction.

“I...” she stammered, unsure of herself but knowing what she felt, “I ... summoned you. To be my familiar.”

“A witch's familiar.” His face twisted in a fierce grimace. “You thought I would be your willing slave? Release me, witch, or die.”

“No threats from you!” Melinda threw up a shield around him, a complex defensive magic in which she was an expert. He turned towards her, snarling and shifting towards his other shape, but the spell held him fast. He hovered in between man and jaguar, hideous and beautiful at the same time, a frightening vision of power and grace and barely-contained fury. “And there you'll stay until we determine the cause of this.” She stood up, straightened her skirt, and turned to Cecily. “We need to talk.”

“May I come?” Brenda asked anxiously.

“No. Stay here, keep him contained. The rest of you, stay!” She motioned Cecily towards the door.

The air in the hall felt cold. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she shivered. Melinda faced her and set both hands on her shoulders. “What did you feel during the summoning?”

“I felt ... need,” she whispered. “Loneliness. Anger. It was easy to connect at one point, difficult the next.”

“A were,” Melinda sighed. “Bloody damn, this is going to be tough.”

“How could this happen?” Cecily asked desperately. “The spell only works on animals!”

“He was an animal when you summoned him. You connected with that part of him and drew him to you. It's the human half that's causing the problems.”

“Can't we, I don't know, send him back? Let me try again?”

The look on Melinda's face dashed her hopes even before she began to speak. “We don't often tell people this, Cecily, especially not before their summoning, but this spell can only be done once for you. You and your familiar are permanently connected. If he dies, you lose much of your ability. If he leaves, the pain of separation will be agonizing for both of you. Our familiars are our greatest strength and our most potent weakness. That's why we have so many protective spells for them. You could fire a cannon at your mother's hawk and it would survive.

“This has only happened once before that I know of, and then it was a much different situation. The witch and the werewolf knew each other before the summoning. You're going to have to live with this, Cecily. Live with him.”

“Live with him?” she squeaked.

“Your apartment is big enough, isn't it?”

“Yes, but...”

“Cecily Anne Mason, you will make this work or you will give up your abilities as a witch,” Melinda said firmly. “Forsaking your familiar means forsaking your power. I know it wasn't your fault, I know you weren't expecting this, but it happened. You need to improve your bond. Be understanding. The longer he takes the animal shape, the harder it will be for him to leave you. Encourage it. He won't hurt you.”

“But...” She gestured at her arm.

“A reflex. It won't happen again, and it isn't deep. Clean it thoroughly.” She gently squeezed Cecily's shoulders, then let go. “Let's go back in. You need to make it clear to the others that this is what's meant to be.”

“All right.” Dazed, Cecily followed Melinda back into the altar room. All eyes turned towards her, but she had eyes only for her familiar. He was back in jaguar form, thank the Goddess. She walked over to the circle, took a deep breath, and dissolved the shield spell. The jaguar was growling, but as she knelt in front of him he stopped. “Why did he change?” she asked softly, not taking her eyes off the were.

“I don't think he had a choice,” her mother said crossly. “Like most weres, he has next to no control over his emotions. When he got mad, he changed. We need to get him to change back, get in touch with his Alpha, and send him back to wherever he came from.”

“No, Brenda.”

Her mother's eyes widened. “Oh, surely not—not really—”

“Yes.” Melinda's voice was firm.

Cecily did her best to block out the arguments that were erupting all around her, the exclamations and questions. She focused on the jaguar, trying not to be afraid of its giant head and thick, muscular body. She reached out, feeling for their bond, touching it, trying to strengthen it. The jaguar blinked at her once, but gave no other outward sign of responding to their connection. She could feel it, though. She could feel the fight going on inside of him as well, his human, independent half rebelling at any connection, crying out for freedom. The jaguar quelled it. It was tired of being alone. It was tired...

“He has no pack,” Cecily said softly.

“How do you know?” Brigit asked. She was the only one close enough to hear.

“He's lonely. He's so lonely. It's been a long time since he's had a pack, or a mate ... but jaguars are solitary animals. Aren't they?”

“Even creatures that prefer their own company have to come together sometimes,” her sister rationalized. “It's in their nature. For mating, at the very least.”

Cecily trembled slightly. “Do you think he wants to mate with me?”

“Right now, he probably doesn't know what he wants, Cecily. He was alone and unhappy, and now he's surrounded by people he doesn't know and is just as unhappy. Hopefully in time you two can come to an understanding. Your connection is stronger in this form, isn't it?” Cecily nodded. “Then the longer he stays this way the better. Be kind, don't push the magic unless you have to. It takes all familiars time to learn to channel before they get used to the sensation.” Brigit put an arm around her sister's shoulders and hugged her briefly. “And it's something you'll both get used to faster without the rest of us around. Let the elders hash things out. Want me to drive you two home?”

Us two, Cecily thought in a daze as she got up off of her knees. “Yes, please. Mom gave me a ride here, but...”

“Yeah,” Brigit sighed. “I know. Hang tough, hon. Say your goodbyes and let's get out of here.”

Getting away was harder than Cecily had anticipated. Her mother was livid, within a breath of defying the coven and making her daughter perform the ceremony again. Melinda was just as adamant, and eventually ordered Cecily out, along with her familiar. Fortunately the jaguar came without any fuss, nudging his head beneath her chill, dangling hand as he passed through the hall. She felt an odd sensation of warmth in the center of her chest, and nearly smiled.

“Do you have any meat at home?” Brigit asked as they drove away in her Range Rover.

“No, why?”

“Cecily, you've got a gigantic cat for a familiar, he's going to want to be fed and he's going to want meat.”

“Oh.” Shit, she hadn't even considered that. Cecily was a vegetarian. “Maybe he'll just want to eat in his human form.”

“You can't count on that, and by then he might be refusing out of spite. We can stop by a store on the way. We can get him some clothes, too,” she added wryly. “Much as everyone enjoyed the view.”

Cecily was quiet for a long moment. “Brig ... do you think I made a huge mistake?”

“Honey, that assumes that you had a choice. The Goddess guides our steps, she sees all our actions. This might not be the easiest path for you, but she gives you what you need. You can do this.” Her voice was calm and confident. “You can do this. It doesn't hurt that he's totally hot, either. Don't let Katie over until he's trained.”

Cecily did laugh now, hollowly. “She would go for him, wouldn't she?”

“I saw it in her eyes. Look out for her, hon, she loves you, but she loves herself more.”

The residents of her apartment building knew what Cecily was, she had been living there for the past year, working as an aide to another local witch before her own summoning. Upon seeing the magnificent jaguar that accompanied her inside, the doorman grinned widely.

“Congratulations, Miss Mason! That's quite a familiar.”

“Thank you, Jerry. Umm...” How did she say this? “Actually, I need you to add someone to my visitors list.”

“Certainly, Miss Mason.” He pulled up the appropriate screen on his computer and put on his spectacles. “Name?”

“I don't know.”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “You don't know, miss?”

He probably thinks I'm drunk, she thought unhappily. “No, not yet. As soon as I do, I'll let you know.”

Thankfully, he let it drop. “Appearance?”

“Around six-two, at least two hundred pounds, dark skin, shaved head, brown eyes.”

He typed in the information dutifully. “Any particular visiting hours you wish to establish?”

“No. I have the feeling he's going to be coming and going a lot.”

That got two raised eyebrows. Cecily flushed but didn't blink, and Jerry lowered his eyes again. “Whatever you say, Miss Mason. Good evening.”

“Good evening.” She walked to the elevators ramrod-straight, and only relaxed her posture once she was safe in her own apartment again. “Well, that was awkward.” She glanced down at the jaguar. “When you're human again, I've got to get your name. You can't just be the anonymous sexy guy entering and exiting my apartment. And I hope to hell you don't have to be walked.” That was a point. Maybe it was a good thing he could become human. That was Katie's one complaint about her stag.

She walked over to her spacious kitchen and set the bags down on the counter. One held meat, the other had some generic clothes, close enough to his size to wear out when they went to find him new things. Cecily's family was very well off, and being a witch capable of combating dark magic in a place like Philadelphia brought well-paying contracts from the city. There were a lot of people willing to experiment with magic without taking the time to learn the consequences, and too many of them required clean-up to leave things in the hands of normal humans.

The jaguar leaned up against her leg and growled at the bag. “Are you hungry?” she asked, then felt like smacking her forehead. It wasn't like he could answer her in this form. “Let's find out.” She pulled a rump roast out of the bag, unwrapped the brown paper surrounding it, and placed it on a plate on the tile floor. The jaguar sniffed the meat, picked it up in his mouth...

...and promptly took it over to her leather couch, where he sat and began to rip it into bite-sized chunks, spattering blood across the couch, the carpet, and himself. “No!” Cecily shrieked. She ran over to the couch. “No! Get into the kitchen!”

If cats could sneer, she would have received one full-bore. As it was, he merely turned his eyes back down to his meal and ignored her completely.

“Shit,” she hissed. She could force him into the kitchen. She prepared the spell in her mind, a compelling incantation, but let it die unsaid. She wasn't supposed to force him. She wasn't supposed to use magic on or with him without preparing him unless she had no other choice. “Oh, fine.” Cecily crossed her arms glaring at her familiar, who pointedly ignored her. “Enjoy it, you jerk.”

Once he was done, lying on his side and licking remnants of blood off his paws, she got out the cleaners and started scrubbing the carpet. Champagne colored carpet. It was supposed to lighten the room. The effect would totally detract with rusty red stains on it, though. She hadn't had to scrub floors since her apprenticeship. Next, the couch, if he would get off it. Good thing it was leather.

Cecily was exhausted by the time she got to bed. The jaguar stayed in the living room, pacing one moment, flopping down the next. He clearly wasn't happy, but neither was she. She left her bedroom door opened and laid down on her side, listening to him moving. Tears threatened in the corners of her eyes, finally falling onto her pillow, spotting the cotton and soaking a few strands of her curled, silky brown hair. Crying helped to calm her nerves, and she finally fell asleep.

Weight shifted the bed, making her roll slightly. Time had passed, but she had no idea how much. Her bedroom was black when she opened her eyes, but the bright, glaring orbs of her familiar were in front of her in seconds. Worse, he was human.

“Goddess!” She sprang away from him, sitting upright. He glowered at her, all tightly coiled muscle and anger and ... confusion? Fear? At least he was wearing clothes this time, the baggy sweats she and Brigit had bought. When she'd bought them, at least, they'd been baggy. Now they were almost too tight.

“Don't cry to your goddess,” he said in his low, growling voice. “Cry to me. Tell me what you've done to me, and no magic this time to keep you from answering.”

“I tried to answer before, I just ... I didn't know what to say.” She didn't know now. “I'm a witch. It was my summoning ceremony, where I call the familiar that helps to aide me in my spells and is my—my companion.” She hurried through the last part. “I didn't know it would call you, it's almost never happened before. Every other witch I've ever met has an animal as her familiar. You're different.”

“Of course I am, I'm a were,” he replied angrily. “Not an animal. How could you make such a ridiculous mistake?” Even as he chastised her, a small part of her wanted to keep listening. He had such an incredible voice, vowels lifted and sharpened by his accent.

“I didn't realize it at the time! I've never done this before!” Cecily protested. “None of the senior witches told me anything was wrong. They were as surprised as I was when you appeared. And there's no way to send you back. I'm sorry, I'm very sorry, but I can't undo this. We're going to have to learn to live with each other.”

“With each other.” His voice was thick with scorn. “With you. In this city, a place of stinking men and machines. You wanted a slave? Someone to fetch things for you, help you out of problems when your money won't work?”

“No!” He wasn't even trying to understand. “I don't want you to be my slave, my servant, anything like that! I want us to work together, I just don't know how yet.”

“And I want my jungle, the heat and the smell of rain.” He frowned. “Neither of us gets what we want.”

“That's not fair.”

“None of this was fair, you are not fair. Why should I be fair towards you?”

“Because I'm trying, damn it!”

“Trying?” His voice rose to a roar. “If you are to try anything, it should be finding out how to release me!” Cecily unconsciously shrank back, very briefly terrified. He sensed it, and stood up. “Find a way, or I will break this spell myself.”

“You can't,” she told him. “You shouldn't even leave the building. It will hurt us to be apart.”

“I'm not afraid of pain.” He seemed about to say something else, but took in her crouched, wary posture, then simply turned and left. Moments later, she heard the front door slam. After three minutes, she had the beginnings of a massive headache developing.

“Fine,” she muttered, hating herself for her timidity and hating him for his stubbornness. “Fine!” Getting out of bed, she stormed over to the front door, locked it, then spelled it shut with defensive magic. “Fine!" He wanted to go, he could go, but he wasn't getting back in. Hell, she didn't even know his name yet.

Her headache developed quickly into a migraine. Keeping her eyes open was painful, and light was agony. She drew the heavy curtains across her windows as a failsafe for the morning, took some painkillers and got back into bed. Anger had supplanted her earlier grief, and it was another hour before she was calm enough to fall asleep again.

When she woke up, the headache was gone. Remnants of the pain remained, little twinges that ached as she sat up, a brief residual pounding in her head. She put a hand to her face, scrubbing briefly. Something crusty crumbled under her fingers. “What?” She glanced at them, then down at her pillowcase. The cotton was stained with blood. Apparently she'd had a nosebleed in the night.

“Fantastic,” she sighed, then immediately began to worry. Was he back yet? What had happened to him? Momentarily forgetting her nose, she ran for the front door. Crap, if something had happened to him while he was off without her...

She undid the locks and threw open the door. There he was, in jaguar form, clothes lost somewhere to the night. The big cat looked at her, yawned, then stood up and padded into the apartment, working his head under her hand again as he entered. She shut the door following him in.

That was the key. When he was in jaguar form, their bond was stronger. Anger gave way to necessity and he returned to her. Probably he changed when the pain became too much. Enough to give him a nosebleed, too? Cecily touched her face again and sighed, then headed for the bathroom.

The day passed in a busy blur. Everyone she'd left hanging yesterday was eager to see how things were progressing, and all of them took their turn visiting her. Her mother was first, and that was just painful. Brenda was filled with resentment, anger and worry for her youngest child, and she didn't hesitate to express it to Cecily. “This can't be the only way,” she said, gesturing towards the lazing jaguar. “Melinda is just being close-minded. I'll keep talking to her, Cess, keep trying. We'll find a way out of this mess, I promise.”

“Mom, it's okay,” she tried to placate her. “I'm sure I can work it out. I just need some time.”

“Time? With this were-creature in your house, distracting you at every turn, being completely unhelpful? Oh, a mother knows, Cess,” she added. “No, I don't want that for you.”

“It isn't a matter of what she wants,” Melinda said sharply a bit later. She and Brenda had passed each other in the hall. Their meeting had been frosty, to say the least. “It's a matter of what's possible, and separating the two of you isn't.”

“He tried last night,” Cecily confessed.

“But he came back. He had to. It probably hurt him more than you, since he did the leaving.”

“I think ... he might hate me.”

Melinda shrugged. “It's possible. A certain breed of people prizes freedom above all else, and there's no denying that his freedom is certainly curtailed. But there was a reason you two were brought together, Cecily. Bonds like this are never made through chance. He needs you as much as you need him, he just refuses to see it. Remember: be patient. Don't let him walk all over you, though.”

“I'll try not to.”

“Good.” She pulled a cell phone out of her bag. “This is your new phone. The GPS system is linked into your father's detection network, like your laptop. If you get called for a job, the phone will show you the location of the incident and the color of the screen will indicate the strength of the target's magic. Ingenious system, really.”

“That's my dad.” She wished he had come to see her. Probably he had already forgotten what had happened. Her father was the quintessential absentminded professor.

Her sisters were no better. They came en masse and bearing gifts, but their reactions were a mixture of revulsion, support, and utter fascination from Katrina.

“More meat,” Brigit said as she unpacked some bags, “And some more clothes. Katie picked these ones out.”

“Make him become a man,” Katrina said insistently. “I want to see him try them on.”

“Don't be a bitch,” Hannah snapped. “He's not a doll she plays dress up with, he's her familiar.”

Danielle had brought her familiar up, but it was clear the fox was uncomfortable with a jaguar so close. She excused herself after a few minutes.

“So delicate,” Katie sniffed. “Let me know when you get control of him, Silly, I'm dying to get to know him better.”

Yeah. She probably was. The thought of Katie putting the moves on her familiar filled Cecily with uneasiness and a stirring of anger, but she didn't say anything. It was just Katie's nature.

He turned back into a man shortly after her sisters left. He was still glaring at her, but it had lost a little of its force. “Your family is very opinionated,” he commented as he pulled new clothes on.

“I know. Please, before this goes on any longer, tell me your name. I need something to call you.”

He was silent for a long time, and after a minute or so she didn't think he would answer. As she began to stand up he said, “Mauricio Oliveira.”

Mauricio ... good, it was a start. “Where are you from?”

“Brazil. Born near Rio, but I left it long ago for the jungle.” Then he glowered again. “Which I would like to return to.”

“Did you understand any of what was said while you were in your other form?”

“Some.” He shrugged. “More emotions than words.”

“My coven leader is convinced there isn't any way to break our connection.”

“Your mother thinks otherwise.”

“My mother likes to try to think for me,” Cecily snapped. “That doesn't make her right.”

“It doesn't make her wrong, either.”

“Why are you being so...”

“Difficult?” He smiled grimly. “I'm sure you'd prefer something else, someone who bows to your whims. Fortunate for me, I don't give a damn about what you want.”

“Is that why you left last night?”

Now he actually looked a little shaken. “That was a test.”

“Did it hurt you as much as it hurt me?”

“You felt pain?”

“Yes.” Cecily laughed without humor. “You seem to think this is all fun for me. All you've done so far is hurt me. Thanks for the scratches, by the way.” She held up her bandaged forearm.

There was no mistaking the faint sense of guilt filtering in through their bond now. It was quickly masked with anger, but it had been there. “I'm going out.”

“Out where?” she asked desperately.

“Not too far. I don't want to hurt you, but I won't stay here and be used to help you cast your godless spells, either.”

“I'm weaker without you,” Cecily said softly. If there was only some way she could approach him that would make him understand her need ... but her plea wasn't enough.

“And I'm weakened by you. We're even.” He pulled the door open and walked away into the hall.

It was the beginning of an uncomfortable regime for them. Mauricio barely spent any time in her company in his human form. He would leave and wander the streets, never going so far as to bring on another migraine, but the pangs in her head were constant reminders of her failure to connect to him. She worried about him, walking around Philadelphia alone at night. Yeah, sure, he was a werejaguar who could rip almost anything to shreds without blinking, but he was more vulnerable without her protections. She had practiced all the spells, but he refused them. She in turn was made vulnerable by his absence. If he died, her power would fade. Without him close by, her spells lacked potency.

Even more annoying was the fact that he starred in every fucking fantasy she'd gotten herself off with lately. She'd go to sleep, and every night she'd wake up with her hand between her thighs, fingers deep in her pussy as she came, with his name on her lips and his face behind her eyelids. It was stupid. He hated her. Why was she wasting her time dreaming about his incredible body, his voice, and that piece of him, somewhere inside, that seemed to call to her...

Cecily tried exhausting herself. Every night after he left, she went to the building's gym and did sword forms for over an hour. Cecily was a witch, but many creatures were more vulnerable to steel than magic, and so her mother had had her trained in swordplay at a very young age, along with all her sisters. Cecily had taken to it immediately, and was very competent with a saber. She could hold her own with longer swords, but the bigger they were the more difficult it was for her to wield them, so she tended to stick with smaller blades.

After five days, Cecily was completely confused. Mauricio in jaguar form was becoming more and more affectionate with her. He even lay on the couch with her and put his head in her lap while she watched TV. After he changed, though, he left without a word, not even a sarcastic one that night. She kept trying to reach him, to make him more comfortable with her. She bought Brazilian foods, a coffee maker, anything she could think of that might appeal to him. Nothing worked. He treated her with cold distance.

On the sixth evening, Katrina showed up just after Mauricio changed. She was dressed to the nines and smiling. “Silly!” She gave Cecily a fast hug. “How are things?”

“Um ... fine. You look nice,” she added.

“Thanks! I'm meeting some friends at the Roxxy tonight and I was wondering if you and Mauricio,” here she gave him a big grin and a quick once-over, “would like to join me.”

“Oh, I can't, I'm monitoring tonight.” It was Cecily's shift to monitor paranormal activity with the use of some of her father's gadgets for this part of the city.

“Oh, too bad,” Katrina pouted. “Well, maybe just Mauricio then.”

It was amazing that she managed to refrain from licking her lips. Mauricio had just managed to pull on jeans before she came inside, and the way Katrina was looking at his bare chest left no doubt as to where her mind was headed.

Mauricio glanced at Cecily, then looked back at her sister. “Is it far?”

“Less than a mile,” she purred.

“I'll go.”

Something inside of Cecily's heart froze and shattered in that moment. She couldn't speak. She just nodded and headed back to her bedroom, shutting the door fast. She heard the murmur of their voices in the front hall, then the click of the door closing behind them.

Katie had known she was monitoring tonight. They lived in the same area, they protected the same boundaries. She had come by tonight because she knew Cecily wouldn't be able to go out with them, because she knew that she and Mauricio still weren't getting along. She was attracted to him, and saw this as the perfect way to get him alone and drive another little wedge into the divide between them. And he had gone with her. He had gone, and she had let him go.

Anger like she hadn't felt in years poured through Cecily like a wave of fire, searing her body into action. She grabbed her sword out of its scabbard and recklessly strode over to her door, hacking the antique doorknob off in one clean blow. It was stupid—abusive and reckless—but her emotions needed an outlet and spellcasting was denied her, thanks to her familiar's stubbornness. She drove the blade through the edge of her doorframe, then wrenched it free and continued into her living room. She needed a better target ... there. Coffee table. Where she would be sitting with her monitoring equipment like a good little girl, doing what everyone else wanted, trying to be everything to everyone and never once getting their respect, only earning a reputation as a sweet little wet blanket. Fuck them. Fuck all of them.

Cecily cut the table into pieces, unaware that she was screaming until the pain in her throat alerted her. She hacked until the splinters had splinters and she had shredded the carpet beneath it. She was still furious, but exhaustion made her slump down onto the couch, sword dangling limply from her hand. Her wrist hurt. Wood was a harder target than flesh. She'd have to resharpen the blade, too. Idiot.

The door opened. Cecily jumped to her feet, thrusting the sword out in front of her, looking wildly through the curls falling across her face. It was Mauricio. He shut the door behind himself, his eyes widening as he took in the ruin she had made of her living room.

“What are you doing back?” Cecily asked in a cracked voice. “I thought you were going out with Katie.”

“We went. I felt something painful come from you and returned.” He took a step towards her, hands spread wide, voice calm. “Do you mean to threaten me with that blade?”

“Yes. No. I don't...” She swallowed but didn't lower the weapon. “I don't understand you. I thought you liked being away from me.” Her cheeks felt hot and wet.

He shook his head and took a step forward. “It isn't you.” He took another step forward. “Just what you represent.” His eyes were so bright, soft for once, not hard and glaring. He stepped closer. “I haven't been good to you since you brought me here, and I apologize. I understand that it wasn't what you intended. Your sister said—”

“I'm sure Katie told you she wasn't surprised that I screwed up, that I don't do anything right, that I'm nice but incompetent,” Cecily said harshly. “They try to protect me from everything, and then you come along, and you don't care about anything ... it just...” She knew she sounded pathetic and stopped, biting her lip.

Mauricio gently turned the tip of her sword away, then stepped in close. As soon as his hands touched her, she dropped the sword. “I don't know what to do,” she whispered.

“I don't know, either.” He looked down at her, and she saw his sadness, felt his guilt again. “But we'll figure it out.” He tentatively raised his hands to her shoulders. It was the first affectionate touch she had ever had from him in his human form, and Cecily melted into it. Before she knew it she was clutching his waist and pressing her face against his chest, crying her heart out. He comforted her awkwardly, in arms that it seemed hadn't held another person in a long time. They ended up sitting on the couch, and once she had finished her cry he reached over into the remains of her coffee table and fished out the box of tissues.

“Thanks.” She grabbed one and wiped her eyes and nose, then glanced over at the ruins of her table. “Wow. That was dumb.”

“No it wasn't.”

Cecily gave him a half-smile. “How do you figure?”

“It told me something I needed to know.”

“That you're bonded to a psychopath?” Way to not help your situation, Cecily. But he was already shaking his head.

“No, it tells me that you have a mind and heart of your own. From our beginning, you've been afraid. Afraid of everyone, their thoughts of you, their thoughts of me, what I thought ... you never did anything for yourself. I wondered when I left if there was anything I could do to make you stronger.” He shrugged and smiled. “It was not necessary. You have strength, you only hide it because you think they expect that. You shouldn't. Strength is respected. Niceness, not so much.” He tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. “Why do you let people hurt you?”

“I don't know,” she replied honestly. “It seems easier than fighting them most of the time.”

“Sometimes fighting is good. You fought for me, and that pleases me.”

“I fought a table,” she pointed out with a grin. “It didn't stand much of a chance.”

“True.” He looked at the remains. “I'll have to make a new one.”

Cecily lifted an eyebrow. “You can do that?”

“At one time in my life I was a carpenter.”

“At one time?” She looked him up and down. “You don't look much older than me. How old are you?”

He looked away. “Much older than you.” He let go of her and glanced down at the table, then back at her. “Did you break anything else?”

“My bedroom door, a little.” He went to go and look at it. Okay, so things weren't totally good between them, but at least they were talking without trying to kill each other. Cecily had gotten that urge out of her system.

Things did improve. Cecily came to appreciate how completely bored Mauricio must have been, lolling about as a jaguar or walking the streets of Philadelphia alone as a human. He was a man of action, and living in the jungles of South America had given him lots of that. Having something to do here did wonders for his temper.

He decided to focus on the table first. The next day he went and bought supplies for a new one, commenting before he left that he'd need a way to earn his own money. When he came back he was carrying loads of Brazilian cherry wood and having Jerry help him bring it upstairs. He bought tools, none of them electric, and glue and nails and other things Cecily had never really thought about before, but that you'd need to build a table. She had never built anything for herself; there was always someone else to do it. Mauricio pulled up the ruined carpet of her living room and set up a make-shift shop, complete with drop cloths to keep sawdust from getting all over the floor.

It would be a process of several days, he informed her, maybe a week. In the meantime, she could think about what she wanted to break next. “Since I'm not so busy,” he added.

“You could work through some spells with me,” she offered tentatively. “Some protections for you—” Mauricio was already shaking his head.

“No spells, no protections. Cast spells to protect yourself, keep them off of me.”

“Why not for you?” she asked. He didn't answer, just started measuring the boards. “Stubborn bastard.” She caught the edge of a smile as she turned towards the kitchen, but it was gone before she could blink.

His acceptance of their situation, however grudging it was, had greatly strengthened the bond between them. When she burned her index finger on the coffee pot, he shook his own hand and glanced over at her. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Cecily replied, sucking on her finger. “Just clumsy.” She felt his concern ebb, and he turned back to his project. Interesting, she thought. I'll have to ask Brigit about that.

She got the chance soon afterwards. Brigit came to visit her the next day, taking in all the construction with a satisfied glance. “Good morning.” She held up a bag. “I brought cranberry-orange muffins.”

“You're a gem,” Cecily said. “I think we're both getting tired of my attempts at breakfast.”

“Burnt toast,” Mauricio added. “No papayas, no mangoes. At least she's learning to make good coffee.”

Cecily threw a potholder at him. “You make the breakfast next time if you don't like my offerings, macho man.”

Brigit frowned. “What happened to your old table?”

Cecily felt a blush coming on. She hadn't told anyone about her recent breakdown, and it was clear that her sister was curious about the state of affairs between her and her familiar. Mauricio just smiled. “Come with me,” Cecily muttered, grabbing her sister by the hand. They went back to her room, where Brigit cast an eye at the damaged woodwork. She shut the door and they sat on the bed.

“Cecily,” Brigit said seriously, “did he get violent with you?”

“No.” Oh yes, it was creeping up her neck, and—there! Full fledged fire face, a blush to beat all. “I did that. Katie came by and asked us out, but she knew I couldn't go so they went alone. I got upset and kind of took my anger out on the furniture.”

Brigit's eyes narrowed. “Katie looked a little unsettled a few days ago when I saw her. She has no business coming on to your familiar, gorgeous Brazilian hunk or not. What the hell is her problem?”

“Don't get upset,” Cecily begged. “It's her nature. Besides, it kind of helped me and Mauricio to come to an understanding. Things aren't perfect, but at least we're talking without snapping at each other.”

Brigit stared at her for a long time. She finally raised a hand to Cecily's face, cupping her cheek. “Don't go thinking that you're the least of us, Cess, because you're not. Not by a long shot. I don't know what we did to deserve a sister like you.”

“Brig.” They leaned in and shared a tight hug. When they finally pulled away Brigit was blinking a little, her eyes shiny.

“I should get going.”

“Wait, I have a quick question. Brig, can you feel what your familiar feels? When something happens to him, do you get an echo of it?”

Brigit tilted her head as she thought about it. “Sometimes, if it's a fierce enough feeling. Flying, for example. The first time Aura flew and we were fully bonded, the sensation was...” she shivered slightly, “incredible. Why, are you starting to get that close to Mauricio?”

“I think so. I just wanted to check that it was supposed to happen that way.”

“It happens how it happens. All the rest of the world can do is stand back and watch.” She laughed suddenly. “Melinda ordered Mom to leave you alone until you and he are fully bonded. It's pissing her off something fierce, but she can't disobey an outright order, not unless she wants to lose her status in the coven.”

“I wondered why she hadn't been by.”

“No choice. Enjoy it while you can.” She said her goodbyes and grabbed a muffin on the way out. That was quintessential Brigit: she came to check on you, brought you muffins, and then left you alone. Mauricio seemed to appreciate it, too.

“The only one of your sisters with sense.”

“All my sisters are sensible,” Cecily replied. Her familiar's expressive face turned her way incredulously, and she laughed. “Okay, maybe not Katie. But we're all so different. Brigit is the most practical, that's all.”

“You,” he said in between hammer strikes, “are not sensible.”

“So they tell me.”

“But you are worthy regardless. Your sister is right about that.”

Cecily eyed him narrowly. “Did you listen in on our conversation?”

He shrugged and pointed to his ears. “They hear things. I can't turn them off. I can forget to tell you in the future, though.”

“That's it, we have your next project all mapped out. New insulation in the walls.”

“Your apartment is rented. No tearing down walls.”

“Smart ass.”

They went for a walk that afternoon. An actual, honest to Goddess, walk in the park. They went to Poquessing Creek Park, one of the larger less crowded urban green zones in Philadelphia. Mauricio was in his leopard form, and it was clear he was enjoying the exercise. When he ran across the grass, his heavy, muscled form moving at surprising speed, Cecily got a taste of that incredible feeling Brigit had mentioned. That was nothing compared to what they shared later.

Cecily had another dream that night. Details of situation and any semblance of plot were lost to her mind. Mauricio's voice burned through her mind, his touch set her body on fire. When he took her on the bed, thrusting up into her pussy as she wrapped her legs around his back, she screamed with the pleasure. Dreams weren't supposed to have scents, but this one did, and it smelled like a warm summer day at the park, sweat, and something sharper underneath that belonged solely to her familiar. He filled her body, held her and spoke harsh, hot words that she couldn't make out as they fucked. Everything happened so fast, and she was gripping his smooth back, arching against his hips as he pounded into her, finally tipping her over the edge, and she screamed again, coming, oh, now—

“Aaahh!” Cecily's eyes flew open, one hand locked between her legs, the other clutching the damp sheet beneath her. Her whole body throbbed relentlessly, making it difficult to stifle her harsh breathing.

Difficult, that was, until she heard a noise. It was him, moving around. He was awake. Fuck! He was awake! She quieted down immediately, trying to slow her breathing. Her hair was coiled thickly about her head, across her face, stifling her. She took her hand out from between her drenched thighs and grabbed the sheet she had kicked off, pulling it quickly up her naked body.

Oh yes, he was awake. She heard him leave the guest bedroom, which he had taken over with her blessing, and walk out into the hall. He paused outside her door, then continued on to the bathroom they shared. She heard the water come on, and breathed out a sigh of relief. Cecily didn't relish the thought of a confrontation with him about her waking him up with wet dreams. Dreams that starred him, especially. Although...

No. It wouldn't be healthy to go there. Cecily rolled onto her side and resolutely shut her eyes. She'd catch a shower in the morning and just not say anything.

Amazingly, Mauricio was up before she was. Cecily woke up to the smell of strong coffee. She rubbed some of the sleep from her eyes and glanced at her alarm clock. A little before seven AM. Well, Mister Early Riser. He'd slept until eight or nine for the past week. She grabbed a pair of cotton pajamas and started to put them on, then realized that she smelled like sex. Shower first. Coffee could wait.

Clean, dry, and feeling more confident, Cecily padded down the hall in slippers to the kitchen, tying her wild hair back into a knot above her head. Mauricio's back was to her as she came in, but he turned when she sat down in a bar stool at the counter. “Coffee.” He placed a steaming mug in front of her. “See how good I treat you?”

“Very nice. Now, where's the milk and sugar?”

He looked incredulously at her. “You want to ruin my coffee with milk and sugar? Wicked woman.” He smiled at her, and she had to smile back. There was a playfulness about him this morning that she had never seen before.

“I'll try it black.” She sniffed deeply, then took a sip. Her lips wrinkled. “That is way too strong.”

“Good,” he corrected her. “Delicious. Way too perfect.”

“Perfect or not, I need milk and sugar.”

“Then you have to get them.”

She glared at him and his smile became a grin. “I'm kidding.” He took a small carton of milk out of the fridge and passed her the sugar bowl and a spoon.

Cecily added a few teaspoons of sugar and liberal amounts of milk. “You're in a good mood,” she commented.

“I am,” Mauricio agreed. “I had a very interesting evening.”

Oh, crap. She tried to appear disinterested. “Really?”

“Yes, really. Very interesting. Very vivid.” The light dancing in his reddish-brown eyes was mischievous, but he had pity on her. “I'll finish sanding the table today. It should be ready to varnish tomorrow.”

Cecily turned to look at it. “It's beautiful. The color is fantastic.”

“It's Brazilian, naturally it's fantastic.”

“Don't get too far ahead of yourself.” She took a sip of her coffee. “I'm monitoring all day today, so we'll both be busy.”

“Good.” He offered her a plate. “Want some burnless toast?”

Cecily rolled her eyes. “I'd love some.”

They kept themselves occupied for the rest of the morning and into the afternoon. Cecily watched her monitors, talked with the other witches in the area and was as cordial as she could manage to be with Katie over the phone. Their conversation didn't last long. Nothing much of occult interest was stirring, although the next neighborhood over had had a minor troll invasion when one of the nearby rivers overflowed its banks and a bridge was flooded. It was cliché, but it was true: trolls loved bridges.

Mauricio shaped, carved, and sanded on the new table. It was the same size as her last one, but built much sturdier. It was simple but elegant, and the dark reddish-brown color was almost exactly the same shade as Mauricio's eyes. She watched him bend over the table, smoothing with the sandpaper, losing himself to the rhythm of the work. He was wearing an old t-shirt, a castoff from one of Katie's last boyfriends, and it was really too tight on him. It displayed every ripple of every muscle on his torso as though it wasn't even there ... which wasn't altogether a bad thing. He was so deliciously easy on the eyes.

He caught her staring at him from the couch. “Yes?” he asked politely and with a glint in his eyes.

“I was wondering where you learned English.” It was better than saying, “I was wondering how you felt under that flimsy cotton rag, why don't we find out?”

“Ah.” He gave her a half-smile. “I learned from a Presbyterian missionary when I was a child. He taught in our local school. His Portuguese was not so good, but he owned many books. I taught myself to conjugate your strange verbs.”

“Say something to me in Portuguese.”

He looked at her for a moment. “Você é linda.”

Three short words, and they sent a quiver down her spine. “What does that mean?”

He smiled again. “That's for me to know. You asked me to speak, not translate.” He leaned back and stretched his shoulders, dropping the sandpaper. “I think this is finished for now.” He gestured to her. “Come, feel it.”

Feel a table? Cecily got down off the couch knee-walked the few feet to the table. She ran a hand lightly over the surface. It was warm, still warm from the sanding, and as smooth as silk beneath her fingertips. “Oh,” she whispered. She spread her palms out and made slow circles on the wood, closing her eyes. “It feels alive.”

“It is. Don't break it.”

Moment over. She opened her eyes and looked at him. “I won't break it!”

“Your ... what's the expression ... track record, it isn't so good with tables.”

“You know, you're not cute,” she told him matter-of-factly. “Actually, you're filthy.” She reached out and wiped a finger down his forearm. “See? Covered with sawdust.”

“Then I suppose I should shower. Care to join me?”

It was good she wasn't standing, because even the thought of being naked in a shower with Mauricio made her knees weak. Goddess, had it really been so long since she'd gotten any? “I've already showered today,” she managed at last.

“True. Guess I'll go it alone, then.” He stood up, brushed his pants off and walked down the hall.

Damn, he was just too sexy. Cecily got back on the couch and buried her nose in her networks. It wasn't a smart idea to become enamored of her familiar. He had driven her crazy when he hated her, but him liking her was extremely distracting as well. She needed to stay focused on her work. If she could take him on a job, show him how important her position was, perhaps he'd be more amenable to letting her place some spells of protection on him. She could feel that his presence made her castings more powerful, but who knew how strong they would be once she had his actual cooperation?

She could hear the shower come to life. She could feel it in a weird way, a subtle sense of warmth. It was soothing. What she felt a moment later was not exactly soothing.

A tingling feeling of pleasure began to build in her groin. Cecily glanced down at herself, shocked. What the hell was going on? Her blood began to pump faster and she became flushed as the pleasure increased. What the ... oh, no. He wasn't. No, he wasn't. The throb in her center told her that yes, he was. Mauricio was jacking off. He was taking himself in his hand under the hot water and stroking his length up and down, long and slow and ... fuck!

She couldn't go and ask him to stop, that would be too embarrassing. Did he even know what he was doing to her? Probably he did, she had woken both of them up this morning with her own explosive orgasm. This was his revenge, subtle but intense. The mental images of him in the shower, coupled with the tingling feelings spreading through her body, were driving Cecily mad with lust. She lay back on the couch, squeezing her legs tightly together and covering her mouth with her hands as Mauricio's orgasm crested and broke, jetting through her body in powerful spasms, sending pleasure from the crest of her head to the tips of her toes.

Cecily stayed supine until the water shut off, finally forcing herself off her back when she heard the door open. No way was she going to let him know how strongly he had affected her. She heard his footsteps coming back down the hall and tried to look cool, calm. She stared unseeing at her laptop's screen, watching for signs of activity. Not likely, nothing had bothered her neighborhood in over a month, and that was just an amateur sorcerer trying to summon a minor demon, easy to dismiss and apprehend.

Mauricio stepped around in front of her and her heart nearly stopped. He hadn't put his shirt back on. He was ruddy from the hot water, his skin glowing like burnished bronze. There was no need for her imagination to fill in the blanks now, and she stared at him, rapt with awe. He was so beautiful, so defined, heavy with muscle and radiating something else, something she couldn't define, but that devoured her attention like a black hole devoured light. He intended that, of course, bastard. She didn't need to tell him how strongly he affected her. He looked over at her and smiled. Yeah, he knew.

Well, she wasn't going to be used by him. The pendulum swung both ways. She couldn't take him for granted, and he couldn't take her for granted, either. Cecily ripped her gaze away from him and back to the screen. “So, are you going to sweep up, too?”

He shrugged. “I suppose I should.” He squatted down beside the table, surveying it pensively for a moment, then crawled over next to her. “You know what that means.” He hovered by her hip, looking at her, smiling faintly. “I'll need to clean up again. I don't know if I can do that alone twice in one day.”

Cecily was about to toss a smart-ass remark his way, but the look on his face stopped her. It was a strange combination of bravado, faint traces of insecurity and something in his eyes that she could almost identify as hope. His eyes were so bright ... they pulled her in, drawing her closer. Was it possible that he had the same thoughts about her? Was he just trying to fulfill a need? Was it a little of both?

Their faces were within inches of each other when the screen flashed. Years of training and the weight of her new status overruled her libido, and Cecily reluctantly turned her face back to the monitor. “We have something...” She stared at the screen and frowned. “Down by the river. Something big.” The energy signature was very faint, but the object itself seemed to be registering large. One or two things? It was hard to say. Maybe a water-spirit of some kind, with that faint a signature. “I need to go and check it out.”

Mauricio's expression smoothed into a blank. “Do you want me with you?”

Prickly ground now. “If you want to come.”

“No spells on me.”

Cecily wanted to pound the cushions in frustration. “What is your problem with that? I just want to make sure you're safe!”

“We shouldn't be wasting time,” he pointed out. “Promise me no spells and I'll go with you.”

“Goddess, fine!” Cecily pushed his shoulders, moving him back. It was a shift of about an inch, but it felt good psychologically. “No spells on you, and I'll try not to cast any through you, all right? I'll get my sword, and you, get some ... um, clothes.”

It was a cold, drizzly afternoon. That was good, it meant fewer people would be out and about. Cecily was dressed in dark clothes, durable and easy to move in. She'd pulled her hair back and cinched her sword belt around her waist. She brought the cell phone in her spell satchel as well, just in case she had trouble locating the energy. Mauricio loomed beside her, also in black, but wearing sweats. They were stretchy and easy to remove in a pinch, which they might well find themselves in. Those plus his sandals made for an odd combination, but at least he was with her.

Cecily paused outside the building and focused, closing her eyes and honing in on the tremor the network had picked up. Her father had set the network up years ago, an elaborate series of electronic sensors modified to pick up thaumaturgic signatures, detecting magic users, magic creatures, and magical constructs. The signals it recognized, people like Cecily and her sisters, were accounted for and dismissed. One of their jobs was to investigate unaccounted tremors in the network. She felt it ... vaguely. The faint aching sensation in the front of her mind pulled her to the right, towards the water. She stepped forward blindly, absorbed in trying to follow it, trying to keep it from evaporating—

Hands grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back off the curb as a cab screamed by in the road, missing her by a foot. She jerked with shock. “You don't need me for magic,” Mauricio said with disgust. “You need me for help crossing the street.”

Cecily was feeling embarrassed enough. “I don't need you for anything,” she snapped. “Now let me concentrate.”

Mauricio was muttering to himself in Portuguese, and this time Cecily didn't ask what he was saying. She closed her eyes again, briefly, straining for it and finally got the feeling again. She moved out, a little more carefully this time. It didn't take long to find the source of the tremor.

The creature was moving slowly, slogging through the muck at the water's edge. All she could see of it was a pale head rising above the darkness of the river. The skin was whitish-blue, grey around the nose and eyes, and black threads suffused the mouth in a grotesque spider web extending down its neck. Eyes palled with death looked straight at her, and she could feel its awareness of her. Awareness, and sudden interest.

“Draugr,” she whispered. “It's a draugr.”

“What is that?” Mauricio asked lowly. The creature was moving out of the water onto the shore, shuffling slowly towards them.

“Draugr are the living dead, usually Scandinavian. I have no idea what one is doing here, but we should be able to take it...” Her voice trailed off as a second head, then a torso emerged from the water. Sightless but seeing, slow but unyielding. “Two draugr.” Then a third emerged, and the day turned from grey to black. “Three. Shit.” Cecily moved backwards and drew her saber. “They're immensely strong, and they don't give up unless you remove their heads. Everything else is temporary. Be careful.”

Mauricio snorted. “You be careful, little witch.” He stripped out of his clothes and changed in the space of a few heartbeats. He roared in his jaguar form and, moving with all the deadly grace that made him beautiful either way, he stalked his prey.

Cecily focused on the second creature. Draugr were difficult to deal with. What was left of their minds was buried so deep that any spell designed to distract their thoughts wouldn't work. They didn't rely on their eyes, so nothing to blind them. In fact, very few spells worked well on the living dead, and most of them required a lot of set-up. They were slow, but once they got a hand on you, they would crush you to death.

She activated her tracer, sending out a signal to any other witches listening that she needed help. This would be a purely physical battle, and the more to help even things out, the better. Her worry over Mauricio was short-lived; he moved behind the first draugr, leapt onto its back, and sank his massive teeth into the head, obviously trying to crush the skull. Arms flailed at him, but they couldn't get a grip. The second one had reached the shore, however, and Cecily suddenly had work of her own to do.

She charged the draugr, ducking his clumsy blow and swinging her blade lightning-fast at his arm. She sheared the limb off at the elbow. Thank the Goddess their pieces didn't reanimate once you dismembered them. There was more than enough of him left to cause her trouble.

The draugr lunged suddenly, letting gravity help it power into her as it swung with the other arm. She levered two cuts against its neck, but neither was deep enough to stop it. It barreled into her, ruining her balance. As she tried to recover the other arm came around. She got her sword up in time to remove three of the fingers, but the rest of the hand grabbed her wrist. It squeezed. Bones popped and crackled, and Cecily screamed with pain, dropping the sword. The draugr pulled her forward into its deadly embrace. Soon it would be squeezing, and then she would be dead.

Gritting her teeth, she ignored the searing pain burning up her blade arm and used her free hand to pull out her dagger, sheathed and tied to her thigh. Cecily didn't like getting close enough to use a dagger, but in this case there was nothing for it. She jammed the point of it straight into the draugr's throat, then sliced in a full circle around his neck, cutting through tendons and muscles and grating against bone. Now that she had some room, she thrust the dagger in again, reaching for and finding vertebrae. It would be nearly impossible to saw through one, but maybe she would get lucky...

She was lucky. Things moved in the right way, something gave, and then the spinal cord was severed. The draugr's head suddenly hung limp, his grip loosened and in a moment he was slumping to the ground. Cecily kept on cutting with the knife, furious and hurt, cutting until she was satisfied that the corpse wouldn't be getting up.

“Cecily?” Mauricio was beside her in a moment, holding her waist as support. “Where are you hurt? Is it your arm?”

“What happened to the third one?” she gasped.

“I broke its neck, like with the first. Easy prey. What has happened to you?”

“Look out!” she screamed suddenly as the third draugr rose to its feet from behind them. Mauricio was changing already, his half-formed face twisting in a snarl, but the massive hands of the draugr closed around his shoulders and threw him aside. His body flew over thirty feet, hitting a lamp post and slumping into a heap beneath it.

“Fuck!” The pain reverberated through her whole body. She wanted to curse the fool for not letting her protect him, not letting her give him any defensive spells ... the draugr was moving towards him. “No!” She couldn't affect it easily with magic, but she could help him. She had to, promise or no promise. Cecily summoned a spell of evasion, chanting rapidly and hoping she had all the necessary reagents in her satchel. She released it towards him a moment before the draugr reached his prone form. Instantly he was gone, spirited away perhaps a hundred yards. It wasn't a spell you could really direct. She prayed it wouldn't send him into the river.

Denied its kill, the draugr groaned gutturally. It turned back towards her, and for the first time that she had ever seen, it moved fast. Why had no one told her draugr could run when they wanted to? It was upon her in seconds, and she had no other spells prepared.

Cecily lunged for her saber, the only thing that might still be of any use to her. Where was the backup? She was no good with the sword left-handed. Still, she raised it, and just had time to bring it to bear as the draugr slammed into her, knocking her onto her back. The blade penetrated through its belly and out its back, but it missed the spine.

The draugr seemed to weigh a ton, and that weight was only increasing as it leaned forward. The saber's hilt pressed tightly against her ribcage. She gasped with breathless pain, then wished she hadn't, for the bile-churning smell of rotting flesh was mere inches away from her face now. The draugr grinned its terrible grin, the rotting face a hideous decaying mask of blackness and death. It's death, and soon hers, too. There was no more air, there was nothing but pain and pressure, bone-cracking, mind-searing pressure that wouldn't let her think, speak, cast a spell, not even cry...

Teeth the length of her fingers appeared suddenly over the back of the draugr's head, teeth furrowing new channels next to the ones they had dug before, when Mauricio had almost killed it. The pressure lifted in one blessed moment, and then the pain swooped in. Cecily coughed once, tasted her own blood, and mercifully fell into unconsciousness.

It felt like days had passed by the time she woke up again. Her eyes were gritty, and she tried to blink the sand away, wincing as she did so. Every movement seemed to send shocks of sharp pain up and down her body. Oh right, she had been squashed to the brink of suffocation. Where was she? Where was Mauricio? She reached out anxiously with her power, searching for that connection. She was tired, exhausted, and for a moment she couldn't feel it. Fear bolstered her mind and she looked again, and this time she could make it out. He was alive. He was all right.

“Cecily?” Brigit was suddenly beside her, sitting on the bed. “Hey, girl!” She smoothed hair away from Cecily's face. She looked pale, ragged with lack of sleep and worry, but incredibly happy as well. “You're awake, thank the Goddess! How do you feel?”

“My chest hurts,” she murmured hoarsely.

“No kidding, you had three of your ribs broken and a collapsed lung. It was almost too late for the healers to do anything for you, we were about to take you to a regular hospital before you showed some improvement.”

“Where am I?”

“Home, hon. You were in the glade for a while, but the healers thought you would rest better here. Mom and the rest of the crew are here, too. It's my turn to watch you.”

“Where's Mauricio?”

“He's here.” She looked away for a moment, and then Cecily felt the end of the bed sag with a sudden heavy weight. Mauricio was in his jaguar form. He stepped up next to her on the bed, lay down and settled his big, triangular head right by her shoulder. Reddish-brown eyes gazed at her from his imperturbable feline face, so regal, so noble—and then he licked her.

“Ugh!” Cecily would have laughed, but it hurt too much. “Thank the Goddess you're okay.” She raised a slow hand towards him and he moved his head beneath it, letting her stroke him.

“He's been in this form since you were hurt. It was kind of funny, watching Mom cuss him out. She got no satisfaction out of it at all, jaguars apparently don't care if you call them fucking bastards,” Brigit said with a half-smile. “Speaking of that, I'd better let them know you're awake. Get ready for a stampede.”

Cecily survived her family's visit, just barely. Her mother was almost hysterical with relief one moment and seething with anger the next, railing against Mauricio and Melinda and all the powers that be that had led her to be hurt. Nothing anyone could say would placate her, so they sat through it in silence. Her father patted her head awkwardly, her other sisters gave her gentle embraces. Cecily was too tired to stay awake long, and she fell asleep to the back and forth sounds of her family's voices and the comforting rumble of Mauricio's breathing beside her.

Eventually the crowds thinned out. By the end of the week it was just her, Mauricio, and Brigit. Mauricio kept to his jaguar form, leaving her side only to eat and go for the occasional walk. The healers had done an excellent job with Cecily and her ribs were knitting fast. Her arm would take longer. Three of her wrist bones were broken and they had to cast her arm, but expected it to heal well. The bruising had gone down, to the point that her pale skin was purple instead of black, and the color in her fingers had diminished to a sickly yellow. Once she could manage herself in the shower, Brigit bowed out.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said seriously as she put on her jacket. “There's a lot of food in the fridge, and plenty of meat for Mauricio. Oh, and Dad called. Turns out those draugr were imported by a Scandinavian drug lord to protect him from his enemies. Obviously things didn't go so well. He ended up dead and they were on the loose. Fortunately you found them before they killed anyone else.”

“That's good.”

Brigit touched her cheek. “You'll be okay, Cess.” Then she picked up her bag and left.

Cecily reached out with her good hand and lightly scratched the top of Mauricio's head. “I wish you'd talk to me.” She was tired, and went back to her bed for a nap.

By the time she woke up the sun was gone from the sky, and Mauricio was lying beside her, in his human form this time. His eyes were closed but she could feel that he wasn't asleep. “Welcome back.”

He opened his eyes. “You healed faster when I was in my jaguar form. I thought it best to keep it as long as it helped you.”

“Are you okay?”

He smiled mirthlessly. “Weres of all types heal fast. There was nothing wrong with me.” He closed his eyes. “One moment I was flying, striking, falling. One moment I knew I would soon be dead. The next I was on a sidewalk with a dizzy head wondering how I got there, and where you were. I caught your scent and ran to you, but I knew I would be too late. I felt your breath stop...”

“Did yours stop, too?” Cecily asked in alarm.

Mauricio opened his eyes again, and they were bright with unshed tears. “No. That was the worst part, breathing and knowing that you weren't, that you couldn't. I felt you dying.”

She was anxious to comfort him. “But you saved me.”

“Healers saved you. My stubbornness nearly got you killed. You should have saved your magic for yourself, not wasted it on a creature that doesn't deserve you.” He reached out and gently touched her face. “Werejaguars don't have packs, but they do take mates. My mate was killed years ago, and I had been a jaguar ever since her loss. You turned me back into a man, and I wanted to hate you for it. Witchcraft ... it has a bad reputation in Brazil ... dark forms, methods of control. Bindings of any sort, they hurt, they chafed. I treated you badly.”

“Mauricio...”

“No longer, I swear it. Whatever you need from me, I will give you. Whatever you want, I will do.” He took her good hand and kissed her fingertips, then got up. “I'll make coffee.”

“Mmm, coffee for dinner.”

“Coffee and food. Your mother and sisters left soups, pastas, other things. I'll bring you some.”

“Thank you.”

He brought her dinner in bed. Cecily still wasn't strong enough to stay upright for very long, so she took advantage of being spoiled a little. She let him feed her spoonfuls of her mother's white bean and tofu stew, which Mauricio snorted at, and drank strong, sweet coffee and talked with him late into the night. They spoke about his childhood in Brazil, when he learned he was a were, how he met his mate. Cecily told him a little about her own childhood, but nothing very revealing. “You know my family, you know how things have been. I'd still be a child if you hadn't come into my life.”

“Treated like a child, perhaps.” His eyes looked her slowly up and down, and she felt herself flush a little under his scrutiny. “But you're certainly not a child. Você é uma mulher linda.” He sat up next to her on the bed, slid one gentle arm around her waist and brought the other to her hair, stroking her shining curls. “Estou apaixonado.”

“You never told me what that means,” she protested softly, looking into his eyes.

“I don't need to,” he replied. Leaning in, he quickly captured her mouth with his, plundering her with sharp, desperate kisses even as the rest of his touch remained soft and gentle. His mouth was demanding in one moment, pleading in the next. Cecily wanted to melt onto her back and pull him down with her, but the pain in her chest pulled her up short before she had moved more than a few inches.

“Patience, mm?” Mauricio said with a grin as he finally pulled away from her mouth. “We have time now. But I'm staying in here with you.”

“Yes,” Cecily agreed fervently. “Yes, you are.”

Their lives folded together so easily, fast becoming a perfect fit. He fixed her door and its battered frame but kept working on the table, doing something to it that she wasn't allowed to see. He slept in her bed at night, close but not quite touching, hovering protectively next to her steadily-recovering body. He was huge, he was strange, and it should have felt completely awkward to have him in bed with her, but it didn't. It felt right, and she slept better than she could ever remember with him beside her. They fell asleep apart, but by morning he was always touching some part of her, just enough to let her know that he wanted, he needed some sort of contact with her. He made the coffee, teased her when she started making breakfasts again, and went jaguar whenever she really ached, to help her dull the pain.

Cecily, in turn, finally rounded a corner. It was several weeks later and she was nearly healed, only needing a soft cast for her right wrist. Her mother was visiting and they sat together in the living room. Mauricio had just finished with the table, covered it up and was taking a shower.

“Honestly, Cess, I don't understand why you won't let me pursue this!” Brenda exclaimed. “I know it's possible, it's been done before. You've got just cause, Goddess knows, this creature has disrupted your life and nearly gotten you killed! We can find a way to get you a new familiar if you'll just let him go.”

“Mom, there's no way.”

“Cess, I just told you—”

“No.” Cecily shook her head. “There's no way I'm going to give Mauricio up. Stop searching, Mom, stop trying to find something else for me. There isn't anything else I want, I have everything I need right here.”

“Cess.” Her mother shook her head. “You're young. You're inexperienced in the ways of the world. Yes, he's handsome, in a brutish sort of way, but there are many other men out there, and many other potential familiars. It's better not to mix love and magic. I can get you something better!”

For the first time Cecily hardened her heart against her mother. “You're not listening to me. You never have, but that changes today. I am keeping Mauricio. I love him.”

“Cess...”

“No, Mom. Please leave.”

“Cecily Anne Mason!”

“Stop it, Brenda.” Two could play the name game. “I'm happy, I'm healthy, I'm in love and I don't need you interfering. We'll work things out on our own. I don't need you to do everything for me anymore.”

Brenda Mason was genuinely shocked. Her youngest child had never taken this tone with her before. “Cess, honestly, I don't ... I don't know what to say.”

“Say that you love me. I love you. Then say goodbye. Bye, Mom.”

Her mother didn't say anything. She picked up her bag, stood up, and walked in a sort of stunned silence to the door. Casting one hurt glance back at her daughter, she left.

Cecily felt a sort of dull ache watching her mother leave. It was hard, and she knew Brenda would be hurt for a while, maybe forever, but she'd had enough. She could survive without being coddled by her family, Mauricio had helped her see that. She loved them, but that didn't mean she had to live by what they thought was best for her.

She sank back onto the couch, a little dazed, not quite sure what to think apart from knowing in her gut that she'd done the right thing. Soon after her mother left the shower stopped, and Mauricio joined her in the living room. As he sat down beside her and opened his arms, she moved willingly into his embrace. They hadn't consummated their relationship yet, whatever the hell it was turning into, but it was getting harder and harder to hold back.

He was still damp, half naked, and smelled fresh and clean and male. Cecily buried her face against his collarbone and nuzzled the flesh there. “Hey.”

“Cecily, você me faz feliz.”

“I almost got that one,” she said with a grin. “Something about happy.”

“You make me happy.” He kissed her forehead, one hand stroking in slow swirls down her back. “You put me first, even before your family. You say that you love me, despite my many flaws.”

“You heard that conversation with my mom, I take it.”

“These ears, they hear things no matter how I tell them not to.”

“Yes they do, clearly one of your flaws. But you have many admirable qualities, too,” Cecily replied, arching towards him unconsciously.

“True.” He smiled and shrugged. “To say otherwise would be a lie. But you give me much. Now let me give you something.” He moved away and towards the table, which was covered.

“The coffee table?” Cecily laughed. “You already gave it to me.”

“Not that,” he replied imperturbably. “What's inside of it.”

“I finally get to see?”

“Go on.”

Cecily moved off of the couch and knelt down beside the table. She slowly pulled the cover away, her eyes widening as she saw what Mauricio had carved into the top of it. It was a portrait of her, but this was not the girl who stared out of her bathroom mirror at her every morning. This was a goddess herself, a wild, brave beauty with rampant curls, secret eyes and a bright, wide smile. Her face radiated joy and life and hints of something dark and powerful lying just beneath the surface. She ran her fingers over the hair. The wooden strands almost clung to her fingertips. “This isn't me.”

“It's how I see you.” He got down behind her, his hands caressing from her shoulders to the small of her back in long strokes. “This is who you are, inside and out. Beautiful. Strong. My mate. Eu te amo, Cecily.” His breath was hot on the back of her neck, lips pressing kissed to her shoulders as his hands snuck beneath the fabric of her tank top and crossed over to her stomach. His intimate touches made her whole body quiver with a sudden need, and the ache between her thighs intensified.

Cecily reached back and pulled him closer, so that his naked chest was pressed against her back. She felt his hardness and the sudden surge of need within her banished any remaining fears. “I want you, I want you so badly...” She ground her hips back against him, smiling when he moaned into her ear. “I want you now.”

His reply was a wordless growl and a sudden pressure on her back pushing her down towards the table. Cecily braced herself on her forearms, gasping when he pulled her pants over her ass and down to her knees in one fast motion. Apparently waiting had been just as hard for him as it had for her. Fingers crept up the inside of one creamy thigh, parting the thin fabric that covered her sex and slowly penetrating her body. Cecily groaned at the sudden welcome intrusion, so different from her own hand and right now, so much better. It still wasn't enough, though. She needed him, inside of her, now. “Mauricio...”

He felt her desire through their bond, in her body, heard it in her voice. Everything in him responded and their needs blended together, becoming stronger and more passionate, hungrier and more desperate. He ripped her panties off, pulled his sweats down and thrust his hips up next to hers. He had patience for one final torment, rubbing the outside of her dripping pussy with his cock before absolute need took over and he began to work himself inside of her, sliding forward in one smooth, long thrust.

Cecily tossed her head back, crying out with ecstasy. All it took was a single thrust and she was coming around him, sexual frustration releasing in one long, drawn-out orgasm. Mauricio held on to his own control, just barely, gritting his teeth and waiting for her tremors to subside before beginning to move inside of her. He held her hips steady and pulled out, just barely keeping the head inside before pressing back in. He made love to her, slow and smooth. He fucked her, fast and hard. He moved his long length inside of her until Cecily was ready to come again, leaning back into his thrusts, her hands gripping the edges of the table in an effort to keep her body steady.

Mauricio held her hips tightly, feeling his own orgasm build to the point of no return and finally pushing in hard as he pulled her back against him, plunging deep and coming again and again and again inside of her, filling her with his hot, thick seed. Cecily felt his orgasm and let it cascade into her own, lengthening it and making her scream until she lost her breath, her voice and her sense of self to total pleasure, to utter bliss.

She slumped forward onto the table, resting her face against her own carved cheek. Mauricio joined her after a moment, staying inside of her but leaning forward, until his heaving chest met her back, and he held her as they both recovered.

“Eu te amo, Mauricio.”

She felt his smile curve his lips against her shoulder blade. “Eu te amo, Cecily. My love, my mate. My own goddess.”

“Your mate,” Cecily murmured happily. She flexed her internal muscles and he groaned again. “I like that part.”

“And we've just begun,” Mauricio said. “Let me show you.” He leaned her back against his chest, stroking up her stomach and across her breasts. He paused and pinched her nipples lightly, and Cecily's breath caught in her throat. He felt so good against her, all over her, inside of her ... when he sat back and pulled out she cried, “No!”

“Soon, my love.” He picked her up into his arms and carried her back into her bedroom—their bedroom, now. He laid her on her back and was between her legs in a moment, thrusting back inside of her. He had incredible stamina, and he held her close, breathed her breaths, filling her body with life as they made love. She wrapped her legs around his back holding onto his shoulders living the dreams that had haunted her nights since before she met Mauricio. Now she knew what kind of future could exist for her. Her future, her love, her familiar was with her now, and strangely ... that was enough. That was more than enough. The most amazing thing was, it seemed to be enough for him to.

“Eu te amo com todo meu coração,” he whispered in her ear as he took her, gave himself to her, plunged into her deeply again and again until they both lay still, tangled together, breathing hard and grinning. Cecily was happy, sated and in love. No one could see tomorrow, but right now ... right now was perfect.

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About the Author

Strangely Familiar is Cari Z.'s first romance with Phaze Books.

Visit www.phaze.com for information on additional titles by this and other authors.