Instinctive - By Cathryn Fox Page 0,89

flung herself on top of Vall. She grabbed the gun and shot him again, ensuring this time he was dead once and for all.

As she crawled back to Slyck, her eyes stung and she finally broke down. “Slyck—” she cried out, and cradled his head in her hands. “Oh God, no.” She scanned his body, searching through the numerous gouges on his skin for the bullet wound. When she saw a hole through his heart, she buried her face in her hands and cried. She stayed there for a long moment, choking on her sobs.

Slyck had been right when he said that someday she’d understand the power of the bond between them, because not only could she not live without him—she didn’t want to live without him. She lay down beside him, accepting that they would die together—the way it was meant to be, the way she wanted it.

“Jaclyn.”

She scurried backward, startled. Her eyes sprang open. “Slyck!” she screeched, her gaze racing over his body. “How? The bullet. Your heart. It’s not possible. We don’t have regenerative abilities. You told me so yourself.” Her words came out hurried and broken.

“Um, we have nine lives. Did I forget to mention that to you?”

Oh. My. God. Of all the frigging things to forget to mention.

She looked heavenward, briefly squeezed her eyes and prayed for strength. “Yeah, you did,” she murmured, then turned her glance to him and asked, “How many do you have left?”

He gave her an apologetic, lopsided grin that turned her insides to mush. “Why?”

Her heart filled with love as she smiled down at him. “Because you scared me half to death, and I’m about to kill you again for forgetting to tell me that vital piece of information.”

He laughed out loud and pulled her to him. “I have one left, sweetheart, and I plan on spending every minute of it with you. Every day I plan on teaching you how to tame your panther and use it as a strength.” He gave her a wink. “And every night I plan on unleashing your wild side and showing you the power of our bond. Like I told you, you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

Epilogue

Chicago: December

Six months later

Jaclyn put the last of her files into her briefcase and looked around her beautiful new corner office. Every time she glanced at the “President” sign on her desk, or on the outside of her door, it brought a smile to her face. Everything in her life had fallen into place, and sometimes she had to pinch herself to prove it wasn’t just a dream.

Her stint in Serene might not have been all it was cracked up to be, but her ability to restructure and move product certainly proved to the board that she was serious about the business and that Benjamin was leaving his empire in capable hands. Of course, she hadn’t expected to walk away as a were-cat, with the most amazing man in the world at her side, either. In fact, there were moments when she’d thought they’d never walk away from Serene at all.

Her thoughts wandered to her parents and she smiled, pleased that her mother had fallen for Slyck’s charm, and had readily accepted him into the family, even if he preferred jeans and T-shirts over dress pants and white collared shirts. Perhaps she and Slyck would join them in Florida over the Christmas holidays later this month after all.

Since coming home, Jaclyn had taken on another new image and used her middle name, Marie. Even though they never expected anyone to come looking for them—the entire community of Serene thought they were dead—they felt it best to cover all traces. And, of course, now that she was a good girl, the Chicago Social, in their quest to capture misbehaving debutantes, no longer had any interest in her, which allowed her to remain quiet, behind the scenes, and out of the spotlight.

Her mother was happy with the new name because it matched the new, good-girl identity, and it just happened to be her name, as well. Slyck took on the name of Sam, one of his old identities, and Sunray . . . well, Sunray kept her name in memory of Ray.

Jaclyn smoothed down her long skirt as she stood and reached for her winter coat and scarf. After slipping out of her sensible pumps, she pulled on her knee-high winter boots and glanced at the freshly falling snow. Once she was sufficiently dressed for