Therian Prisoner: 3 (Therian Heat) by Cyndi Friberg Friberg Page B

frying bacon had already permeated the cabin by the time Devon emerged from the bathroom. She paused in the doorway and inhaled. “Gods that smells good.”
    “Combine bacon and mountain air and there isn’t anything better.” Dorothy motioned her over with a smile. “If you want coffee or tea, Ian has that infernal machine over there. Don’t know what’s wrong with a good old fashion dial-a-brew, but he loves those silly little cup things.”
    Devon had seen Ian operate the machine the night before and it was pretty straightforward. “Would you like something? I’m pretty sure I can make it work.”
    “Brought my Dew with me.” She pointed to the bright green can with the bacon tongs. “It’s too early in the day for most folks, but I live on the stuff.”
    Devon smiled as she went to work on her coffee. “That has as much caffeine as coffee anyway.”
    “And tastes a whole lot better.”
    “Says you. I love coffee.” She brought the steaming mug to her nose and inhaled appreciatively.
    Dorothy wrinkled her nose. “I like the smell but never acquired the taste.” She jerked her arm back as the bacon grease sputtered and splashed her arm. “Dang! Bacon’s feisty this morning.”
    “Can I help with something?”
    “Pull up a chair and keep me company. I’m tired of talking to my dogs.”
    Rather than retrieve one of the chairs from across the room, Devon just leaned against the counter and sipped her coffee. “How’d you meet Ian? How long have you two known each other?”
    “It’s not a happy story. I’d rather talk about you.”
    Devon took another sip then set the mug on the counter beside her. “I think I’d rather hear the story, unless you don’t want to talk about it.”
    “Happened ages ago. I’m okay with sharing it now.” Dorothy drained the grease off the bacon and moved the strips to a paper towel-lined plate before she began her story. “Albert and I moved to Leadville in ’78. That’s 1878. Neither of us were willing to work in the mines, so we grubstaked the miners. We had a tiny little cabin, not unlike this one, except no electricity or indoor plumbing.” Her smile took on a sad sort of wistfulness. “Didn’t matter. We were so in love we would have lived in a tree if we’d had to.”
    “You’re a raptor, like Ian?”
    “Raptor, yes. I’m an owl-shifter. But Ian’s one of a kind.” A calculative gleam came into her eyes as she added, “It would be tragic if he can’t remedy that before time catches up to him.”
    Devon ignored the shrewd speculation in Dorothy’s expression, not allowing it to distract her from the story. “Do Therian raptors all live as long as you and Ian? I hadn’t realized any of us lived for thousands of years.”
    Pausing with an egg in each hand, Dorothy’s gaze narrowed. “Did Ian tell you how old he is? He refuses to tell anyone.”
    Warmed by his show of trust, Devon just smiled. She hadn’t realized his age was a secret, but she had no intention of betraying his trust.
    “Fine. Keep his secrets. You’re obviously someone special to him.” Dorothy cracked eggs into a shallow dish and then used a fork to scramble them. “A man named Dieter wanted to buy me and Albert out, but we had no interest in selling. We didn’t realize he knew what we were until the night he came to ‘motivate’ us to sell.”
    “Did he kill Albert?” Devon tried to rush her toward the end, no longer sure she wanted to hear the details.
    “Eventually. He came with four of his men. Cowards always travel in packs. They grabbed Albert and beat him senseless. But Dieter was holding me, so Albert wouldn’t shift and fly away.”
    “Why didn’t you shift and go get help or something?” Devon’s pulse accelerated as she imagined Dorothy’s helplessness. She knew all too well how it felt to be helpless.
    “I’d just realized I was pregnant and I wasn’t willing to risk the baby.” Dorothy busied herself with breakfast as they momentarily lapsed