Who the hell was she? And why was she there? No one had set foot in any of the caverns surrounding his prison since he’d been chained up, and he didn’t believe it was a coincidence that she was so close, thousands of feet below the surface of the earth in tunnels that no human being would ever stumble across, thinking about him. Who are you? He pressed the question at her, instinctively erecting a telepathic bridge between their minds.
She froze in response, and for a split second, he felt her confusion that he was speaking in her mind. Then fear rippled through her, and she slammed up her mental shields, severing their link. Emptiness assaulted him at the lack of connection, and he swore, struggling to regain his equilibrium. She’d cut him off, but he knew she’d heard him.
She’d heard him. After more than a century of complete isolation, she’d heard him. The sudden shock of having his existence recognized by another living creature hit him with an almost violent crash of emotion. His entire being suddenly burned with a need to be acknowledged, to be recognized, to be seen.
He shoved aside the emotions before they had a chance to claim him. He’d lived his whole life alone. He’d been a shadow in the night, a phantom who was everyone’s worst nightmare. His solitary existence had never bothered him, not even for an instant, and he wasn’t going to let it start grating on him now just because he’d been strung up like a carcass for a century and had scented a woman so enticing it could drive him mad if he let it consume him.
Her essence became stronger, and he realized she was headed right for him, on a direct path through the tunnels. She was seeking him out. Anticipation burned through him, an escalating need to see her, to hear her voice, to drag her against him and taste her mouth against his.
He swore and closed his eyes, raising his own shields to block her scent so he could recalibrate. What the hell? Why was he reacting like that to her? Was it just because he’d been isolated for so long? Or maybe she was some sort of seductress? Not that it mattered. He didn’t want to make out with her. He wanted to escape.
This might be his chance.
He took a deep breath, summoning the combat-focus that had once been as instinctual as breathing and staying alive. Decades of no food, no water, and no external stimulation had weakened him, and his mind fought against his commands to concentrate so intently.
With a snarl of fury, he forced his mind to respond, channeling what was left of his strength into his mind until it coalesced into the razor-sharp clarity that had once defined him.
Straining to see in the darkness, he scanned the cave that had been his prison for so long. It had taken years for his eyes to adjust to the rampant darkness enough for him to be able to see anything, and even now, he could make out only the faintest dark shapes that indicated tunnel openings, escape routes that were only yards away, and yet completely out of reach.
She was in one of those tunnels, getting closer with each step.
Manipulating his body weight with the effortless grace of a man who’d spent countless hours figuring out how to stay fit and strong even while he was suspended by his wrists in a frigid, underground cave, Levi spun in a circle. He systematically inspected every inch of his cave, searching for indications that would tell him which direction she was approaching from.
Unable to resist the temptation, he inhaled again, and her scent wrapped around him, diffusing through his cells like a tendril of sunshine in a body that had long been dead. Energy pulsed through him, a sense of vitality he hadn’t felt in decades. He reached out to her again, this time searching the space around her for more information on who she was. With his attention no longer only on her, he noticed the presence of two powerful males flanking her.
His hands clenched, and his muscles went taut. She was with two Calydon warriors. Possessiveness surged through him, a sudden fear for her safety. Was she their prisoner? Were they going to lock her up the way he’d been strung up? Suddenly, it was no longer about sex. It was no longer about his need to be acknowledged. It became only about protecting her. Are you in danger? He pressed the question ruthlessly at her mind, shattering her mental shields.
Again, she flinched, clearly hearing him, but once again, she didn’t answer. Instead, she thrust him out of her mind as efficiently as he’d penetrated it.
He had to admit, he was impressed with her defenses, but at the same time, it was annoying as hell. He had no idea what the situation was. Did he need to protect her? Was she in danger?
No. No. No.
His job wasn’t to protect anyone. He had one last mission to accomplish, and he couldn’t afford to get distracted by a woman. He had to escape, hunt down the man who had nearly destroyed Levi’s soul…and then kill him. He could allow the approaching threesome to mean only one thing to him: a chance to gain his freedom.
Buy Shadows of Darkness at Kobo
Sneak Peek: A Real Cowboy Never Says No
A Wyoming Rebels Novel
Chase Stockton knew he’d found the woman he’d come to meet.
There was no mistaking the depth of loathing in the gaze of AJ’s dad when he’d glared at the woman in the pale blue sundress. There was only one woman Alan could despise that much, and it was Mira Cabot, AJ’s best friend from childhood.
Chase grinned. After more than a decade, he was about to meet Mira Cabot in person. Hot damn.
Anticipation humming through him, Chase watched with appreciation as she ducked into the last row of pews, her pale shoulders erect and strong as she moved down the row. She was a little too thin, yeah, but there was a strength to her body that he liked. Her dark blond hair was curly, bouncing over her shoulders in stark contrast to the tight updos of the other women in the church. He’d noticed her flip-flops and hot pink toenails, a little bit of color in the chapel full of black and gloom.
Chase had hopped a plane to attend the funeral, but it hadn’t been just to honor AJ. He could have done that from his ranch in Wyoming. Nope, he’d come here to meet Mira, because he’d had a feeling this was going to be his only chance.
He ignored the line of churchgoers waiting to be seated. Instead, he strode around the back of the last pew to the far side, where his quarry was tucked away in the shadows. As he approached, someone turned up the lights in the church, and the shadows slid away, casting her face in a warm glow, giving him his first view of the woman he’d been thinking about for so long.
Chase was shocked by the raw need that flooded him. Her eyes were the azure blue as in her photos. Her nose had that slight bump from when she and AJ had failed to successfully install a tire swing in her front yard, resulting in her crashing to the ground and breaking her nose. Her lips were pale pink, swept with the faintest hint of gloss, and her eyelashes were as long and thick as he’d imagined. Her shoulders were bare and delicate in her sundress, and her ankles were crossed demurely, as if she were playing the role that was expected of her. Yet, around that same ankle was a chain of glittering gold with several blue stones. He knew that anklet. He’d helped AJ pick it out for her twenty-first birthday.
She was everything he’d imagined, and so much more. She was no longer an inanimate, two-dimensional image who lived only in his mind. She had become a real, live woman.
Mira was eyeing the crowd with the faintest scowl puckering her lips and lining her forehead, just as he would have expected. She didn’t like this crowd any more than AJ had.
Chase grinned, relaxing. She was exactly what he’d imagined. “You don’t approve?” he said as he approached her.
She let out a yelp of surprise and jumped, bolting sideways like a skittish foal. “What?”
Chase froze, startled by the sound of her voice. It was softer than he’d expected, reminding him of the rolling sound of sunshine across his back on a warm day. Damn, he liked her voice. Why hadn’t AJ ever mentioned it? That wasn’t the kind of thing a guy could overlook.
She was sitting sideways, her hand gripping the back of the pew, looking at him like he was about to pull out his rifle and aim it
at her head.
He instinctively held up his hand, trying to soothe her. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” He swept the hat off his head and bowed slightly. “Chase Stockton. You must be Mira Cabot.”
“Chase Stockton?” Her frown deepened slightly, and then recognition dawned on her face. “AJ’s best friend from college! Of course.” She stood up immediately, a smile lighting up her features. “I can’t believe I finally get to meet you.”
He had only a split second to register how pretty her smile was before she threw her arms around him and hugged him.
For the second time in less than a minute, Chase was startled into immobility. Her body was so warm and soft against him that he forgot to breathe. He had not been expecting her to hug him, and he hadn’t had time to steel himself. He flexed his hands by his sides, not sure how to react. It had been so long since anyone had hugged him, and it was an utterly foreign experience. It was weird as hell, but at the same time, there was something about it that felt incredible, as if the whole world had stopped spinning and settled into this moment.
When Mira didn’t let go, he tentatively slipped his arms around her, still unsure of proper protocol when being embraced by a woman he’d never met before. As his arms encircled her, however, a deep sense of rightness settled over him. He could feel her ribs protruding from her back, and he instinctively tightened his grip on her, pulling her into the shield of his embrace. In photographs, she’d always been athletic and solid, but now she was thin, thinner than he liked, thinner than he felt she should be.
She tucked her face in his neck and took a deep breath, and he became aware of the most tempting scent of flowers. It reminded him of a trail ride in the spring, when the wildflowers were beating back the last remnants of a stubborn winter.
The turbulence that constantly roiled through his body seemed to quiet as he focused on her. He became aware of the desperate nature of her embrace, reminding him that she was attending the funeral of her best friend, and she was no doubt being assaulted by the accompanying grief and loss.
He bent his head, his cheek brushing against her hair. “You okay?” he asked softly.
She took another deep breath, and then pulled back. Her blue eyes were full of turbulent emotion. “It’s just that seeing you makes me feel like AJ’s here again.” She brushed an imaginary speck of dust off his shoulder. “You were his best friend, you know. You changed his life forever.”
He wasn’t used to anyone touching him with that kind of intimacy, especially not a woman. Women never got familiar with him. Ever. He simply didn’t allow it. But with her, it felt okay. Good even. He shrugged, feeling completely out of his depth with her. “He changed mine,” he said. “He did a hell of a lot more for me than I ever did for him.” AJ had been a lifeline in an ugly existence that had been spiraling straight into hell. He knew exactly where he’d have been without AJ: dead, or in prison. It was a debt he could never repay.
She nodded, still not stepping away from his embrace. She lightly clasped his forearms, still holding onto him. “He was like that, wasn’t he?”
“Yeah, he was.” Unable to make himself release her, Chase studied her face, memorizing the curve of her nose, the flush of her cheeks, and the slope of her jaw. “You were his rock, you know. The only person in this world he truly trusted.”
And that was it, the reason why he’d wanted to meet her. He was bitter, tired, and cynical, and he’d needed to see if the Mira Cabot his friend had always talked about actually existed. He needed to know whether there was someone in this world, anyone besides his brothers, who a man could actually believe in. Hearing that AJ had died had derailed Chase more than he’d expected, and he’d needed something to hold onto, something that connected him back to AJ and to some dammed goodness in his life.
Her cheeks flushed, and she smiled. “Thanks for telling me that. We didn’t keep in touch much over the last few years, but he’s always been in my heart.”
He stared at her, uncertain how to respond. Who talked about things in their heart? And with strangers? But he knew the answer to that. Mira did, and that’s why he’d wanted to meet her.
She finally pulled back, and he reluctantly released her, his hands sliding over her hips. She moved further into the pew and eased onto the bench. “Sit with me,” she said, patting the seat beside her.
“Yeah, okay.” Instead of taking the aisle seat, he moved past her and sat on the other side of her, inserting himself between Mira and AJ’s dad. The old man was across the church, but he hadn’t stopped shooting lethal stares in her direction. AJ wasn’t there to protect her, so it was now Chase’s job.
He draped his arms across the back of the pew, aware that his position put one arm behind Mira’s shoulders. Not touching, but present. A statement.
He looked across the church at AJ’s dad, and this time, when the man looked over, he noticed Chase sitting beside her. The two men stared at each other for a brief moment, and then Alan looked away.
Satisfied, Chase shifted his position so he could stretch his legs out, trying to work out the cramps from the long flight. He was glad he’d come. It felt right to be there, and he’d sent the message to AJ’s dad that Mira was under his protection.
He glanced sideways at her as she fiddled with her small purse. Her hair was tumbling around her face, obscuring his view of her eyes. Frustrated that he couldn’t see her face, he started to move his hand to adjust her hair, and then froze. What the hell was he doing, thinking he could just reach out and touch her like that?
Swearing, he jerked his gaze away from her, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow as he realized the enormity of what was happening. He was attracted to her. For the last decade, Mira had simply been AJ’s best friend, an angel of sorts that Chase had idealized from a distance, never thinking of Mira as anything more personal than simply a bright light in a shitty world.
But now?
He wanted her.
He wanted to brush her hair back from her face. He wanted to run his fingers over her collarbone. He wanted to feel her body crushed against his again. He wanted to sink his mouth onto hers, and taste her—
Hell. That spelled trouble, in a major way.
Suddenly, he couldn’t wait to get on the plane and get out of there, and back to his carefully constructed world.
He hadn’t come here for a woman. He’d come here for salvation, not to be sucked into the hell that had almost destroyed him once before. Mira Cabot might be the only woman on the planet worth trusting, but that wasn’t reason enough for him to risk all that he’d managed to rebuild.
Nothing was worth that risk. Nothing.
Buy A Real Cowboy Never Says No at Kobo
Sneak Peek: Ghost
An Alaska Heat Novel
“What are you running from?”
Ben Forsett froze at the unexpected question, his hand clenching around the amber beer bottle. For a long second, he didn’t move. Instead, his gaze shot stealthily to the three exits he’d already located before he’d even walked into this local pub known as O’Dell’s in Where-the-Hell-Are-We, Alaska. He rapidly calculated which exit had the clearest path. A couple of bush pilots were by the kitchen door. They were large, rough men who would shove themselves directly into the path of someone they thought should be stopped. His access to the front door was obstructed by two jean-clad young women walking into the foyer, shaking snowflakes out of their perfectly coiffed hair. The emergency exit was alarmed, but no one was in front of it. That was his best choice—
“Chill, kid,” the man continued. “I’m not hunting you. I’ve been where you are. So have most of the men in this place.”
Slowly, Ben pulled his gaze off his escape route and looked at the grizzled Alaskan old-timer sitting next to him. Lines of outdoor hardship creased his face, and wisps of straggly white hair hung below his faded, black baseball hat. His skin hung loose, too tired to hold on anymore, but in the old man’s pale blue eyes burned a sharp, gritty intelligence born
of a tough life. His shoulders were encased in a heavy, dark green jacket that was so bulky it almost hid the hunch to his back and the thinness of his shoulders.
The man nodded once. “Name’s Haas. Haas Carter.” He extended a gnarled hand toward Ben.
Ben didn’t respond, but Haas didn’t retract his hand.
For a long moment, neither man moved, then, finally, Ben peeled his fingers off his beer and shook Haas’s hand. “John Sullivan,” he said, the fake name sliding off his tongue far more easily than it had three months ago, the first time he’d used it.
“John Sullivan?” Haas laughed softly. “You picked the most common name you could think of, eh? Lots of John Sullivans in just about every town you’ve been to, I should imagine. It’d be hard for people to keep track of one more.”
Ben stiffened. “My father was John Sullivan, Sr.,” he lied. “I honor the name.”
Haas’s bushy gray brows went up. “Do you now?”
The truth was, Ben’s father was a lying bastard who had left when he was two years old. Or he’d been shot. Or he’d been put in prison. No one knew what had happened to him, and no one really cared, including Ben. “I’m not here to make friends,” Ben said quietly.
“No, I can see that.” Haas regarded him for a moment, his silver-blue eyes surveying Ben’s heavy whiskers and the shaggy hair that had once been perfectly groomed. Ben shook his head so his hair hung down over his forehead, shielding his eyes as he watched the older man, waiting for a sign that this situation was going south.
He would be pissed if Haas turned on him. He needed to be here. He was so sure this was finally the break he’d been waiting for. He let his gaze slither off Haas to the back wall of the bar where an enormous stuffed moose head was displayed. Its rack had to be at least six feet wide, its glazed dead eyes a bitter reminder of what happened to life when you stopped paying attention for a split second.
A Real Cowboy Rides a Motorcycle Page 21
