by Liv Brywood
With any luck, the storm would break before sunrise. If she hurried, she could travel down the mountain and reach her uncle’s house by noon.
She sat on a wooden chair in the corner of the bedroom and slipped off her boots. They were soaked all the way through. If she could get the fire going, she’d be able to dry them off, along with her drenched clothing.
Outside, lighting slashed across the sky. When it faded, the room plunged into darkness. She padded to the light switch by the bedroom door and flicked it. Nothing happened. The storm had probably knocked out the electricity, which meant no hot water either.
She groaned. At least she could take a really fast shower. Covered in sweat and dust from the trail, she needed to wash up before getting into the bed.
The bathroom was through a door off the other side of the kitchen. Inside, she found a bar of soap and fluffy white towels. She picked up the soap and took a tentative sniff. The almond scent wafted up and almost immediately lifted her mood.
She inhaled deeply. The scent always relaxed her. At least the rustic cabin offered a bit of comfort.
She closed the bathroom door, undressed and hung the wet clothing on the towel rack. She turned on the faucet and waited, hoping that, by some miracle, the water would warm up. After a few minutes, she gave up and stepped into water as frigid as a winter stream. Icy droplets rained down from the slightly rusted showerhead and bounced across the worn tile.
Even though she washed in record time, by the time she was done, her teeth chattered and she couldn’t stop shivering. She shook her head. Not the best idea she’d ever had, but at least she was clean.
She wrapped a towel around herself and another around her wet hair. She left the bathroom and crossed the living room to the fireplace. A large stack of split logs were piled up on one side. A long-handled lighter sat on top of the wood. She grabbed it and flicked it, hoping to see a flame.
When nothing happened, she cursed and threw the lighter. Couldn’t she catch a break? Just one break?
She stomped into the kitchen and yanked drawers open. There had to be matches somewhere.
Each drawer contained a collection of mismatched silverware, placemats and packages of napkins. But when she pulled open the last drawer, she was rewarded with a flashlight, matches… and a gun.
She jumped back as if a snake lay in the drawer. She hated guns, but when she was younger, her father had insisted she learn how to shoot one. She lifted the Glock 19. It was loaded. As much as she hated to admit it, the weapon would come in handy if someone else showed up.
She grabbed the three items and returned to the living room. She set the gun on the mantel and then turned to face the fireplace. After forming a pile of small sticks, she shoved newspaper into the cracks between the wood and then lit it. The kindling caught fire. She added larger pieces until a roaring blaze blasted heat into the room.
As she warmed her frozen hands, she decided to forgo the bedroom. The temperature would probably drop below freezing tonight, so lying in front of the fire was the best option for staying warm. She grabbed some blankets and laid them in front of the hearth. She unwrapped the wet towels and hung them over a wooden rocking chair. She pulled another chair over from a small dining room table and hung her clothes on it.
Naked, she snuggled into the blankets in front of the fire. The warmth from the fire and the trance-inducing hiss and crackle of the logs lulled her to sleep.
Hours later, she jolted awake. Stealthy footsteps sounded on the front porch.
Chapter 2
Lightning flashed and thunder cracked directly overhead as Stryde resumed his trek through the woods. He was close to giving up hope when he spotted a hunter’s cabin two hundred yards away. A thin wisp of smoke curled up from the brick chimney. The cabin should be vacant this time of year. Maybe someone else had been caught in the storm and decided to take refuge there.
The hairs along his back stood on end. The scent of danger coiled around the trees at the edge of the forest. And something else drifted on the wind—fear.
He hesitated. If another wolf rested in the cabin, he’d welcome Stryde as a brother. Each den of werewolves was protective of its territory, but they’d always help another wolf in trouble. However, if a human hid inside the cabin, Stryde could be killed.
In wolf form, he’d be risking death at the hands of a human. He shifted into human form and slowly approached the cabin. The windows at the front of the house were covered so he had no idea what to expect. He considered looking for another place to hide to ride out the storm, but there weren’t any caves on this side of the mountain.
He stepped onto the front porch. The swollen wooden planks groaned under his weight. He held his fist up to the door, ready to knock. He hesitated. The element of surprise would work best if a hunter resided in the cabin.
He grasped the door handle and slowly turned it. He pushed the door in and glanced around the cabin. Other than the crackling fire, no movement betrayed another living soul. He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.
When he turned back toward the fire, a woman stood between the sofa and the fireplace. She clutched a blanket to her chest with one hand and pointed a gun at him with the other.
“Who the hell are you?” she demanded.
“Don’t shoot!” he yelled. He held up his hands to show that he had no weapon.
The woman’s mouth hung open for a second before she regained her composure. “You’re naked!”
Stryde glanced down. He rarely wore clothes anymore. They’d rip when he shifted, and he spent so little time in his human form that he didn’t even think about being nude anymore. “I can explain—”
“How could you possibly explain why you’re walking around in the woods, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a storm, naked?” Her voice rose as she spoke.
His gaze traveled from her face down the curvaceous side of her body that was only partially hidden by the blanket. “I could ask you the same.”
The light reflecting off the fire caught a rosy blush as it brightened her cheeks. “I got lost in the storm.”
“Me too.”
She shot him a skeptical look. “Did your clothes get lost in the storm too?”
“Yes, but I live in the woods, and I’m guessing you’re nowhere near your home.”
“You live out here?” The hand holding the gun dipped slightly.
“Yes. Do you live in Full Moon Bay?” he asked.
She raised the gun. “That’s none of your business.”
He held up his hands. “Fine. No problem. I’m not here to hurt you. I’m just looking for shelter. I’m guessing you’re doing the same?”
“Yes. But I found this place first, so you have to leave.”
He glanced out the window. “You’re going to send me out in this storm?”
She hitched her chin up. “Yes. Get out.”
“It’s freezing. I could get hypothermia. Can’t I stay long enough to get warm?” As he took a step forward, her trigger finger twitched. He froze. He’d only meant to test her, not get himself shot.
She bit her pouty bottom lip. If she hadn’t been holding a gun on him, the gesture might have inflamed the more feral part of his nature. But he hadn’t survived the river only to be killed by a human.
A flash of light illuminated the inside of the cabin. Seconds later, thunder cracked overhead.
She narrowed her bright green eyes. “I can’t have your death on my conscience. If I allow you to stay, you have to stay away from me. And put some clothes on.”
“I don’t have any.”
“I saw some in the bedroom. You can use those.” She waved the gun toward the back of the cabin.
The clothes he found in the bedroom were too tight across his chest, and the pants too big in the waist. He hated the chafe of the fabric across his skin, but he’d rather endure that than a night of subzero temperatures.
He returned to the living room to find the woman huddled in the blanket, s
itting near the fireplace. Her wary gaze never left his face. He didn’t want to scare her and risk having her change her mind, so he sat on the floor a few feet away from the fire.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Stryde.”
“That’s an unusual name.”
“I can run pretty fast, so my parents thought it would be an appropriate name.”
“You weren’t born with it?”
“No. In my, uh, culture, we are given a new name when we turn thirteen.” He needed to tread carefully. He didn’t want to accidentally say something he couldn’t easily explain. She’d been brave enough to let him spend the night, but she wasn’t stupid. She still had the gun in her hand.
“What’s yours?” he asked.
“Brandy.”
“Like the liquor?”
She stared into the fire for a moment before replying, “Exactly.”
“Does your name have any meaning behind it?”
She pressed her lips together before answering. “Yes, but it’s not something I want to go into.”
“Fair enough.” He held his hands toward the fire to warm them.
“If it’s not warm enough where you’re sitting, you can come a little closer,” she said.
As he scooted closer to the fire, relief melted his bones, but all the aches of pains from fighting the river’s current flared. “Thank you. I didn’t want to make you any more nervous than you are.”
“I’m not nervous,” she balked.
“Then why are you still clutching the gun in your lap?”
She frowned and set the gun on the floor by her hip, still well within reach. “So, what are you doing traipsing around in the dark in a storm?”
“I was on my way to visit some friends. They’re having a life—uh, they’re getting married.”
“Out in the middle of the woods?”
“Don’t people get married outdoors where you come from?”
She shrugged. “I suppose. Where are your clothes?”
“I fell into the river and lost them.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That must have been a heck of a fall.”
“You have no idea,” he muttered.
As the hypnotic flicker of the fire’s flames lulled him, he fought the urge to sleep. He was relatively confident she wouldn’t shoot him in his sleep, but he didn’t want to risk it. He’d wait until she slept.
The silence stretched for several minutes before she yawned. “I wonder what time it is. The power’s out, so no clocks, and I don’t have a watch.”
“About eight p.m. Are you going to stay up all night?”
“Probably.” She pulled the blanket tightly around her and then tossed him a pillow. “You should get some sleep.”
“Thanks.” He fluffed the pillow and lay down.
“Sweet dreams.” The half-smile she flashed sent a shiver of awareness down his spine. Sparks of light flickered across her brown hair to illuminate reddish highlights. He’d never seen such luscious, silky hair. It hung partway down her back, long enough to tangle his fingers into.
He curled his fingers towards his palms. He hadn’t touched a woman in so long. Not since Leah.
He closed his eyes for a moment. Pain crushed his heart. He shouldn’t be looking at any woman ever again. He knew better. He’d bring her nothing but disappointment, and although he barely knew Brandy, he sensed she’d endured a great deal of unhappiness in her life. The arrangement was for one night, and only out of pure necessity. In the morning, they’d go their separate ways. It was for the best.
Across the room, Brandy leaned against a pillow. Her side-swept bangs fell across one eye. She watched him with the other. He fought to stay awake, but his weary body demanded sleep.
He’d just drifted off when he awoke with a start. Disoriented, he glanced at the dying fire and at the woman sleeping beside it. Based on the amount of wood left in the fireplace, he’d been asleep for at least an hour.
The sound of someone running outside the cabin snapped him fully awake. He jumped up and ran to the nearest window. He flattened himself against the wall and peeked out into the pitch-black night. A pale sliver of moonlight sliced through the clouds, but it did little to illuminate the night. The rain had stopped but wind still moaned against the side of the cabin.
He scanned the open area around the cabin. Shadows elongated, then faded as clouds blocked the moon. One of the shadows moved so quickly, he wasn’t sure if he’d seen the figure or if it had been a trick of the light. He stared at the forest where the shadowy figure had disappeared.
Although he couldn’t see anyone, he could sense them. Someone was out there. Watching. Waiting.
But for what? Could it be the hunter who owned the cabin? It seemed unlikely that someone would have traveled through the storm, but humans made illogical choices all the time.
A gust of wind rattled the window. It distracted him for a second. When he looked back at the tree, the shadow had moved away from it slightly. Someone definitely lurked just inside the tree line.
With his senses on high alert, he heard Brandy shift under the blanket. When he turned toward her, she sat up.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“Someone’s out there.”
***
Brandy’s eyes went wide with fear. “What?”
She scrambled to her feet, dragging the blanket with her. Stryde took a step back and motioned for her to stand in front of him. She mimicked his stance to keep herself hidden.
He whispered into her ear. “I woke up a few minutes ago. Someone was sneaking around outside. When I got up to investigate, the person ran into the forest.”
“Where is he?”
He pointed toward a thick group of trees. “Over there.”
She squinted. How could he see anything in the dark? “Where? I don’t see anyone.”
“He’s hiding.”
Her heart thudded in her chest. How long had the stalker been pursuing her? Had he been lying in wait, ready to strike while she slept?
“Where’s the gun?” Stryde asked.
“I left it by the fireplace.”
“Go get it.”
She hurried to the hearth and grabbed the gun. She didn’t hesitate to give it to Stryde. She’d only known him a few hours, but she trusted him more than she trusted the man in the woods.
“I’m going outside. When I leave, lock the door and don’t open it unless you’re sure it’s me.”
She handed him the gun. “Be careful.”
He nodded grimly.
As soon as he passed the threshold, she closed the door and locked it. She ran to the window to watch his progression. Instead of running straight toward the stalker, he’d circled to the side of the cabin and sprinted for the closest section of forest. As he disappeared into the woods, terror-induced acid churned her stomach. She crossed her arms over her belly.
She couldn’t hear anything over the howling wind. She couldn’t see anything through the inky night. The acrid taste of fear soured her mouth.
As the minutes ticked off, she couldn’t stop fear from taking over her mind. What if the stalker killed her only source of protection? What if Stryde was already dead?
Knots twisted in her hunched shoulders. If he didn’t come back soon, she’d have to go out and find him. He could be injured, maybe bleeding to death. She couldn’t wait another second.
She reached for the door and unlocked it. She swung it open and the huge outline of a man blocked the porch. She screamed.
The man clasped his hand over her mouth and dragged her into the house. He closed the door and said, “Shh. It’s me.”
She immediately recognized Stryde’s voice. When he removed his hand from her mouth, she gasped. “You scared the hell out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to.”
“Did you find him?”
“I found some footprints, but they disappeared at the river. I think he walked into it to avoid detection.”
“It’s not safe here. You have to get out of here. You have to get away from me.”
“What?”
“I…”
Stryde narrowed his eyes. “Wait a minute. Do you know who’s out there?”
“No.” At least that was true.
“Then why do you think the person’s after you and not me?”
She scrambled to find an explanation. “Because, uh, I was here first and maybe… maybe he’s the guy who owns the cabin and wants us to leave.”
“If he owns the place, then why was he sneaking around? Why wouldn’t he walk up to the front door and demand that we get out?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you know more than you’re telling me. Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No,” she chirped.
He frowned. “You know what I hate more than anything in the world?”
“What?”
“Liars.”
She flinched. “Trust me; you don’t want to get involved. I’ll be gone at daybreak and you can pretend you never met me.”
“If you’re in danger, you have to tell me what’s going on.”
She considered telling him the truth, but he probably wouldn’t believe her. Everyone she’d ever met thought she exaggerated her stories to get attention. She’d also had a few brushes with the law which didn’t help her reputation in the small town of Joshua Village.
Once this was all over, she’d move somewhere with thousands of people who didn’t know anything about her past or her family. Seattle, or maybe Los Angeles.
Stryde watched her as if trying to dissect her thoughts. “Are you hiding from someone? A jealous boyfriend? Your husband?”
A part of her wanted to trust him, but could she? He hadn’t tried anything since he’d found her in the cabin. He’d even chased after the would-be assailant, but that didn’t mean she should confess her situation. She couldn’t afford to have gossips spread her stalking story around Full Moon Bay. If that happened, no one would believe her, including her uncle. He couldn’t claim she was exaggerating a story if no one else knew about it. It was better not to tell Stryde anything.
“No, nothing like that.”
