Unleashed by Katie MacAlister

answered, blithely unaware of my sharp glance. “You would have done the same for me.”
    â€œNo, I wouldn’t have.”
    â€œI say we—” She paused and shot me a curious look. “You really would not have saved me from a bloodsucker?”
    â€œNo. Not if you mean someone like Avery.”
    â€œBut . . . he’s bad!” she said, waving her hand toward the comatose man. “Despite your thinking he’s Mr. Sexy Pants, he’s evil, Jas! Evil!”
    â€œHow do you know that? You don’t, do you? No, you don’t. But because you had some bizarre past-life experience—the idea of which, I have to admit, I think is totally unrealistic and hard to believe—you’re a vampiphobe.”
    â€œYou don’t have any problem with a jaguar-shaped Scottish vampire, but you mock my very frightening and absolutely real past-life regression?” Cora asked, her arms crossed.
    I glanced away and cleared my throat. “Point taken. I will accept that you believe you underwent a past-life regression—”
    She coughed meaningfully.
    â€œThat you experienced a past-life regression wherein you saw a vampire chomp on some woman who lopped off your head with an ox cart, but that doesn’t give you any right to assume that all vampires are the chomping sort. Avery seems perfectly nice, perfectly civilized, and, frankly, sexy as hell.”
    â€œKeys,” Cora said, holding out her hand.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œGive me the keys to your truck. Clearly you are under that thrall thing he mentioned, and you’re not thinking straight. I need to go find the nearest hardware store to pick up a stake and a shovel and maybe an ax or a chain saw, just in case Drac here gets uppity when he wakes up.”
    I was about to protest such a ridiculous idea when two things struck me: The first was that there were no hardware stores within an hour’s drive, and the second was that I would much rather be alone with Avery than have my somewhat truculent sister present to put a damper on everything.
    Just what constituted “everything” was something I wasn’t willing to examine at the moment, but I had to admit the idea of a few hours in Avery’s company held a great attraction.
    â€œAll right, you can borrow the truck for a bit, but just you remember it belongs to the state, and I’m responsible for it, so be careful.”
    â€œCall me if he wakes up. And don’t let him have any more of your blood. Maybe that’s how he maintains control of you.” She marched off, shoulders twitching with irritation, her head high with determination.
    I waited until I saw her drive off down the highway—in the direction that led deeper into the mountains, and away from populated areas—before turning back to examine Avery’s pulse and breathing again.
    Judging by the slow, steady pulse, I knew I had nothing but time until he came around. “Time,” I mused to myself, tapping my fingers on the cheaply laminated table. “Hmm. What I would really like to do is to go see the Leshies. If you’re sure Albert and his group are the ones who turned you into a jaguar, then I need to talk to them. I mean, what’s to stop them from doing it again? I can’t have the area flooded with exotic cats—there would be no end of trouble explaining that, not even if I knew how to do so. No, Albert has to be made to stop, and he and I have always had a pretty good relationship. Not like his weird sons, but that doesn’t really matter, does it?”
    Avery snorted in his sleep.
    I waffled for a few minutes, but there was really no choice between staying in the dim, mildewy, tacky motel for hours watching him sleep, or taking a brisk hike through the woods to confront the man who may or may not be out changing innocent vampires into exotic cats.
    â€œThe question now is whether or not I should tell Cora where I’m