Free Peeping Tom by Shelley Munro

safe in Middlemarch,” Felix reiterated. “Is that why you were asking so many questions?”
    Tomasine nodded.
    “But I don’t understand why you wrote the story about the black panther sightings if all you wanted was a safe place. You drew attention to us.”
    “I know,” she whispered. “And no one would talk to me. I didn’t mean to but I was just so angry and frustrated with my lack of progress. Haven’t you ever done that?
    Acted unwisely and regretted it afterward. I’d take the story back if I could. In fact, I didn’t intend to run the cat story but there was a mix-up and it was published instead of the one I’d written about the upcoming Middlemarch dance.”
    “Didn’t you realize that it might make Middlemarch unsafe for all the shifters that live here?” Of all the stupid reasons. Felix didn’t know whether to put her over his knee 53
    Shelley Munro
    and smack some sense into her or hold her tight to reassure her they were secure here. He was safe. Maybe he could work both into the equation. His cock jerked at the thought and he stored the idea for later consideration. Tomasine’s tongue darted out to lick her lips and he watched avidly. She was so tiny—petite—yet physically she’d taken him easily. He imagined her lips wrapped around his cock and bit back a groan. Focus, dammit.
    “If you won’t tell me where you’re from, at least tell me what danger we might face,” he said finally.
    Tomasine swallowed again. “Assassins.”
    “Assassins?” Felix wanted to laugh because the idea was so outlandish. The idea of assassins wandering around New Zealand, let alone a small town like Middlemarch, was ludicrous. He turned to tell Tomasine so but held back the response when he saw the flash of horror—memories—flickering across her expressive face. Okay, so she perceived the threat as real. “Apart from the ball, the woolshed dances and the agricultural fair, we don’t have a lot of strangers coming through Middlemarch.”
    “Tourists come on the train so they can see the gorge and to ride or walk the old rail track,” Tomasine countered.
    “Well, yes, but it would be pretty easy to spot an assassin amongst a group of tourists.”
    Tomasine bounded to her feet. “You think?” Her breasts rose and fell in agitation.
    “Assassins come in all shapes and sizes. You don’t know until you come face to face with one and have a gun shoved in your face. You don’t know until you see the impassive face and eyes that see everything but are so icy you feel cold inside.”
    Felix drew a sharp breath. The dread in her voice told him more than he wanted to know. The idea of his mate living in the face of such terror made his gut roil. He cast his mind back, trying to think of the shifter colonies throughout the world. Cats were secretive creatures. The colonies tended to keep to themselves rather than socialize as the canine groups did. He stood and pulled her into his arms despite the stiffness of her 54
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    body. Gradually she softened but he felt her shake. His arms wrapped around her trembling body, trying to communicate by touch how safe she was with him. Finally the shuddering ceased and Tomasine glanced up at him. Felix pressed a slow kiss to her lips. “I promise,” he said. “You’re safe with me. You’re all safe in Middlemarch.”
    Tomasine wanted to believe him. She really wanted to but the need for survival was too deeply ingrained. It had become second nature to hide in the shadows and trust no one. However, it was true she hadn’t seen any assassins since leaving Spain. They’d been lucky to escape that time. She still wondered who the woman was who’d appeared without warning and taken out the assassin. The dark-haired woman had disappeared before Tomasine could thank her. Since then she’d moved frequently, changing her name to Tomasine Brooks, acquiring false identities and passports in Europe, never staying in one place for longer than a few weeks, gradually