She wanted the wolf to be there.
Pushing the thought away, she drew back the curtain and leaned toward the glass. Her breath fogged the window, and she swiped her fingers over the cold glass. He wasn’t easy to spot at first. A light dusting of snow covered his coat. But he was there. As if he hadn’t budged all night long.
He lifted his head then, and warmth swirled in her chest, spreading into her limbs like the heat she summoned to shape metal. The wolf grew clearer as the sky brightened from lavender to pink. She’d need to let her grandmother know about the wolf before she saw him for herself, sitting there in the early light of day. Izzy would be a bite-size meal for a wolf, too.
She headed downstairs. In the kitchen, Grams huddled at the stove fixing her usual grits and eggs.
“Morning, sweetie,” Grams greeted. “Did you sleep well?”
Emma made a noncommittal noise and selected her favorite mug, with its etched tree design. She remembered the fair in Tyler where her grandmother had bought it for her when she was a little girl. Rubbing the imprint with her thumb, she filled the mug with coffee from the coffeepot, and then stood at the sink.
The window presented the same view as her bedroom.
Found you.
She sipped, letting the warm liquid ease down her throat. “Have you had many problems with wolves, Grams?”
“Wolves? Not around here. Don’t they live in cold country?” Grams expertly flipped the eggs.
“Yes, usually. But these days, with people keeping wild animals as pets, you never know.”
“There’s a new fellow around town that has a dog that’s part wolf.”
“Hmm. Perhaps it’s him. You may want to be careful with Izzy, though.” As if on cue, the wolf turned its head and looked at her. A tingle of excitement skated along her spine.
“You’ve seen one. Where?”
“Out there.” She indicated the yard with a nudge of her coffee mug.
But the wolf was already loping off, a bare patch of brown grass the only evidence of where he’d been. And only if one knew where to look. “Darn. Did you see him?”
Grams peered past her shoulder and shook her head. “Funny you should mention a wolf. When you were a little girl you used to talk about having a wolf ‘friend.’”
Emma’s breath caught. “Did I? I’d forgotten.”
“I think he was your imaginary friend. And he would visit in your dreams…or whatever they were.”
The sudden silence made the room claustrophobic, and Emma drifted back into her childhood. Glimpses of a wolf as tall as she was sat beside her. Her arm rested across its shoulders, her fingers laced deep in its impossibly thick fur. She was content, wrapped in tenderness and comfort and love.
A soft, warm feeling spread through her chest. How she missed that feeling. What had caused her to bury it?
“Do you still get them? The dreams?”
“Occasionally,” she answered with a half-truth. In the two days since she’d arrived she’d had one vision, a bunch of glimpses, and a dream—a jarring escalation compared with the few episodes she’d had the entire past three years in Paris.
Grams squinted outside, as if she were trying to see something more.
Emma glanced out the window again. Yellow eyes gazed at her from within the forest shadows. Was the animal real or some spirit creature?
At this very moment, it didn’t matter.
She pushed aside vague memories from her childhood, along with the thought…You can’t escape who you are.
True. And she was determined to move forward with the reason she was here.
“I have to meet with Jacob today at the warehouse. Maybe I should rent a car so as to not put you out,” she suggested, changing the subject.
“Nonsense. Take my car. I have nothing planned,” Grams patted her shoulder, then walked to the table.
Emma’s gaze shifted to the edge of the forest again. The wolf stare back.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Positioned behind a low-draped oak branch at the forest’s edge, Venn paced, debating whether he should return home to bathe or stay put. His stomach growled, an intense reminder that when he changed, he needed to eat more. Food equaled strength, and shape-shifting consumed a ton of energy. It didn’t help matters that the smell of eggs and bacon drifted out from the Grants’ kitchen.
When the side door creaked open, he snapped his head up and assumed a guarded stance. Emma exited with that little dog on a leash. She was clearly taking no chances. She looked magnificent in her jeans and hip-length sweater, with her hair a disheveled riot of auburn. She threw on a jacket as she walked into the yard, trying to maneuver the leash as she went.
He smiled to himself. No feminine wiles to be found. His voyeuristic behavior produced a tinge of guilt, but he couldn’t look away.
The sun inched higher, and he retreated several paces.
At least she was safe. He couldn’t sense Io’s presence here, either. Yet. Then again, when Emma was near, things within him could get a little messed up. Including his powers.
“Hurry up. Do your business,” she grumbled to the dog.
The scrawny thing yipped like a banshee and pitched a fit, and decidedly turned in Venn’s direction.
“Yeah. And he’ll eat you for breakfast.”
No, thanks.
Peewee finally took a shit and tugged on the leash back toward the house.
If Venn had his way, he’d change into his human form as he strolled up to her. Then he’d pull her into a kiss, showing her all the passion and longing he felt for her. And if he knew it wouldn’t freak the hell out of her, he’d do just that. But at present, he would have to settle for watching her from distance.
Should he go? Should he stay?
He was normally of an extremely decisive nature, and it irked him that all common sense fled when it came to Emma.
But hell… Love. Bonding. Instinct. How did he control that?
Of course, the problem was that he couldn’t.
After Emma let the dog inside, she paused and glanced back to where he’d spent the night. Finding the spot empty, she scanned the forest. Did she feel his presence the way he felt hers? She was a heat lamp that warmed his cold soul.
Unable to stop himself, for a heavy chain tether wouldn’t have held him, he moved from the shadows.
She glimpsed him then, closed the door, and traveled several cautious steps toward him. To his super acute hearing, her heart rate sounded like a fluttering bird’s wings. Yes, she should be nervous.
He eased closer. Not too much. Mustn’t scare her.
She matched his steps, then upped them by four, the snow crunching beneath each footfall, the color of her slippers darkening as they got wetter and wetter.
The clearing between house and forest became astoundingly silent, as if every creature held its breath to watch what was transpiring as woman and wolf came together.
Finally, he stopped at her feet and looked up.
“Easy now. You won’t hurt me, will you?” She held out her hand, palm down, in the customary nonthreatening way to greet an unfamiliar dog.
He took the opportunity to sniff her skin, nuzzle his nose along fingers, and then pushed the crown of his head into her palm.
“You’re friendly. You must belong to the nearby neighbor.” She knelt, looked him in the eyes. “Hmm, you’re part wolf and part…what?”
Interesting question.
He sat still, not moving a muscle for fear she’d bolt. She brushed snow from his coat with light strokes. Then she buried her fingers deep in his thick fur. Sensations bombarded him—tingling, feathering, arousing. Making him wish he were in his human form again, but knowing if he were, she wouldn’t be touching him now. He positioned his muzzle along her thigh and pushed the side of his face into her.
Beyond them, he was vaguely aware that the birds took up chirping again, a squirrel rustled in a tree, and the house door clacked.
Her grandmother startled them both. “I t
hink—”
On instinct, Venn launched himself around Emma, assuming a defensive posture between her and her grandmother.
The elder woman backed up. “Oh my.”
“Easy now. It’s okay,” Emma said.
Venn mellowed immediately as he cursed his overreaction.
Hands on her hips, her grandma said, “Protective, aren’t you?” Then to Emma, she added, “I think I better give Phil a call and let him know the whereabouts of his animal.”
Venn trotted back to Emma and sat, going for the perfect picture of a well-trained canine.
Mrs. Grant narrowed her eyes. “Hmph. You aren’t fooling me. Don’t turn your back on him, Emma. Better yet, maybe you should come on in.”
But he had to hand it to grandma, she didn’t harp on the matter and left it up to Emma to make a choice.
“I’ll be in shortly.”
She would stay. Longer. He moaned, pleased with the way his head fit perfectly under her hand. She stroked the fur between his ears with lingering caresses.
“Did you hear that? Your owner will probably be stopping by later to get you.”
Venn knew differently. When Emma walked toward the house, he followed.
At the door, she turned. “Why don’t you find a lovely place in the sun to wait?”
* * *
When he got home, Venn hopped in the shower and let the vigorous stream of water pound on his exhausted back muscles. He stood beneath the pounding multi-jet spray until the hot water turned cold. Which considering the size of the water heater had to have been a considerable length of time. And the only thing he’d accomplished was pruning the flesh on his toes and fingers.
After Emma had retreated into the house, he’d paced for a half-hour or so until he couldn’t stand the thought of being close to her but not actually with her. He needed distance, to be far enough away that he couldn’t inhale her scent with every breath. He had pushed himself hard the entire way home, but no amount of running would free him from the ache his body knew. That was up to Emma.
He shoved away from the wall and cranked back the faucet until the water ceased. Cool air whisked over his body, making him shiver. He grabbed a towel, dried, and dressed.
Long before Henry reached the door, the aroma of breakfast drifted into the room. The man was whistling. Venn smiled. He wasn’t sure if Henry did that because he liked to or because he was forewarning his arrival. Regardless, Henry always timed his entrance perfectly.
“By the window?” he asked.
“Sure. Thank you, Henry.”
The man uncovered a tray with omelet and bacon. “Have you checked your schedule? I see an appointment with your banker.”
“Cancel it, please. My plans have changed.”
“Of course.”
On his way to the seating area, he paused to admire the wolf figure he’d brought back last night. He reached out and turned it slightly, just because he wanted to connect with something that had been part of Emma, touched by her. Out of nowhere, Io’s riddle flitted into his thoughts. From nothing it’s formed, light-shadow catching ridges or hollow, surfaces, texture, proportion, depth, shape, mass, space, three dimensional, all intentional, enduring.
A sculpture. Yes, that was the answer. And the statue that came to mind was the one Emma had made for the park. There must be an association there somehow.
Venn sat, then remembered he wanted to call his brother in Paris. A quick glance around revealed his cell phone on the nightstand, hooked up to his charger. He drank a long gulp of coffee, then thumbed the latest message on the phone. Nothing important.
Henry gave him an exasperated look. Venn ignored him. He had learned that nothing set the man off more than delaying a meal. If it was hot when he prepared it, he wanted it hot when it was consumed.
“Let me know if you need anything, sir.”
“Will do.”
As Henry left, Venn dug into the food. When he’d finished, he poured a second cup of black coffee. The meal was already giving him more energy, and he grabbed his cell phone again. He selected number six on speed dial and hesitated, contemplating how much to reveal about Emma and Io.
Once he called Ian in Paris, he’d be on the Light Realm’s radar. No doubt about it. But he needed reliable information about what happened to Emma’s Paris apartment in order to get a better handle on what was transpiring here.
Had Io gone that far?
Damn, with no way to travel there himself, his anxiety rose. That was one huge advantage Io had over him, the demon was free to go wherever he pleased…Venn was not. His duty remained to stay within calling distance of his tree.
He leaned back in his chair and hit “Video Chat.” The phone rang several times then quit. No answer.
* * *
Emma arrived at the city’s Parks and Recreation warehouse at nine thirty. She pulled into a parking space near the flagpole as the sun rose above the treetops, snow glistening as it melted. Five cars dotted the lot, and she recognized Jacob’s immediately. In the background, a man walked a large dog along a trail. Somehow she couldn’t picture the wolf at Grams’s on a leash. According to Phil, the wolf dog couldn’t have been his. His dog had been lounging on its bed when Grams had called him.
Could that mean she’d been petting a real wolf? She couldn’t believe that was possible. Someone else had to have a mixed breed on the loose.
Putting on her businesswoman hat, she turned up the walkway. Inside, Jacob greeted her. He led her to a rear exit, and they traipsed across a patch of gravel to another metal building. They entered a room with large cargo bay doors at the far end for easy delivery of goods.
The screech of nails being ripped from wood greeted them. Two men were hard at work opening the nine-foot crate in the center of the room. Her statue. She couldn’t help the flash of pride and excitement that it ignited in her. The moment was like watching someone opening a gift when she knew what was inside. She awaited the men’s reactions as they pried the crate top off, then the back and far side, and finally removed the front and nearest panel.
As the statue was revealed, Jacob strolled the crate’s perimeter and cocked his head, studying her work from different vantage points.
Was that good or bad?
Emma moved forward, burying the uneasy feeling. “Do you like it?”
“It’s perfect,” he practically purred, as if enjoying a secret joke. “Yes, perfect.”
Ground transport and air shipping had taken three weeks. Weeks that had distanced her from the work. After months of shaping the barbed wire into a 460-pound horse-and-rider figure, she was anxious to see how the statue had fared.
She glanced from him to the statue, seeing her creation with fresh eyes. Heat suffused her cheeks.
Oh. My. God. She inhaled a long, shaky breath as she walked to the left to take it in at a slightly different angle. Her fingertips warmed with each step, her beating heart tripping faster. Now, the vigorous man straddling the horse, magnificent and confident, looked like… Venn Hearst.
Her gaze ran over the same firm jaw, broad shoulders, even the tilt of her head, she’d captured perfectly.
Emma stared, eyes wide. Confused. Shocked. Torn. This was the reason Venn had seemed familiar to her. But, how… How could she have constructed a statue the exact likeness of a stranger? Had she seen a picture of him in a news article or tabloid, and had just forgotten? Had she met him before and forgotten that? She couldn’t imagine the latter could ever be true. He was certainly memorable.
She zeroed in on the features of the rider’s face and the connection came to her, slammed into her like a Mack Truck. Why had she not noticed it before? Venn was the man in her visions.
But how? Was he a descendant of the guy in her visions? Or was he a reincarnation of the man from her past life? Did he remember her, too? Why had he not said anything?
From the beginning, the statue commission for Tyler had stood apart from other projects. It should have taken her twelve weeks to create, yet she
’d accomplished the task in four. Each day she had burned to work on it. Maybe Venn was why.
Heat rushed up her neck and face. Did Jacob see the resemblance? Did he know Venn?
The statue was a gorgeous work of art—the best she’d done. Now its brilliance faded before her eyes as embarrassment filled her. The entire town would recognize its namesake. She had not been commissioned to create a figure of Venn Hearst, current park owner, but one of a fictitious early settler.
Worse, Venn would identify her subject in a heartbeat.
And she would have no explanation.
* * *
After his meeting, Io sat in his mansion, lounging in front of the colossal stone fire place—tall enough for a half-dozen men to stand in—and watched as his current minion arranged his afternoon’s quota of Satan’s Brew in glasses from the smallest shot glass to the exquisite diamond cut crystal tumbler on a tray. The fire danced and cracked and behaved as if it might jump out of its confines and engulf the house at any moment. Just the way he liked it. He began with Spirytus, Polish vodka, knocking the shot back. Ah, it had been an extremely good morning.
He lifted the fused clump of coins from the end table, and rolled it effortlessly over his knuckles and between his fingers just like a talented magician. He’d made a habit of practicing the trick ever since that fateful day he’d dropped them. Thinking, he set the fused coins aside.
At first glance, the irony of the situation this morning had hit Io like the sun on a cold day. What better means to deliver a fatal blow to Venn and the Divine Tree than through a statue of Venn himself. Io sniggered maliciously.
It didn’t take the genius he was to see that she’d been shocked to discover the identity of her subject. She had not realized the similarity until the moment the art was unveiled. The astonishment on her face was priceless. And knowing her background as he did, what she was like as a child, when she’d moved from Tyler and lived with her parents in New York, he was fairly certain that she’d never met Venn prior to her return to Georgia this week.
He paused to swirl his second drink, Everclear, watching it slosh against the glass, and then drank.
Awakening Fire: The Divine Tree Guardians (The Divine Tree Guardians Series Book 1) Page 8
