Touch of the Wolf

by Karen Whiddon

  Healing mustn’t take long. Luc had barely stepped behind the tree when Sam and Patricia emerged from the back door. He dug his car key from his pocket, watching as they hurried for Patricia’s pickup.

  Sam stumbled, grabbing on to the nearest vehicle to keep from falling. Instinctively, Luc moved to help her.

  But Patricia was closer. She pushed the unlock button on her remote. Luc slipped back into the shadows behind the tree.

  She had something in her arms. Squinting, he tried to make out the lumpy shape the vet carried.

  Once Sam had climbed into the truck, Patricia carefully handed over the bundle. Suddenly, Luc realized what it was.

  The cat.

  The very same one he’d been told had died.

  Now what? He started forward, then stopped. If he confronted her now, he might as well call her a liar.

  Though, if she’d healed the cat, she hadn’t exactly been truthful.

  His stomach turned. I’m no miracle worker, she’d said. But if she’d healed this dying feline, she’d done exactly that. Performed a miracle. What kind of person could refuse to help a dying child? What kind of woman was his mate?

  Watching them pull from the parking lot, he headed for his own car.

  Time to find out.

  Chapter 5

  Once Sam buckled her seat belt, Patricia placed the still-unconscious cat on her lap before going around to the driver’s side and climbing in. She didn’t speak as she started the pickup and backed from the lot.

  Stroking the cat’s soft fur, Sam felt the animal purr. Though normally she didn’t consider herself a cat person, she felt a special connection to this one. Healing often did that to her.

  Patricia turned the radio to a classical music station, knowing this usually helped Sam sleep. Sam gave her friend a grateful smile and let herself sink back into the leather seat. Once they reached the main road, she tried to keep her eyes open. Something worried her, an ethereal wisp of energy she’d seen or felt, though try as she might, she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  Eventually, the music and the motion and the exhaustion got to her, and she abandoned the fight to stay awake. Resting her head back, she let herself drift off.

  “We’re here.” Patricia gently shook her shoulder. “Wait a minute and I’ll come around and get the cat.”

  Managing a groggy nod, Sam sat up and flexed her shoulders, trying to wake up. If she could make herself move, it would be enough to keep her from slipping back into sleep. At least until she got to her bed. Then she’d give herself over to oblivion.

  The sound of tires on gravel made her look up wearily. A car barreled down the long driveway, dust clouds obscuring the make and color.

  “Uh-oh,” Patricia muttered. “Look’s like we’ve got company.” She swore. “It’s Luc Herrick. He’s the one who brought the cat in today. I, uh, had my assistant tell him it died. You’d better let me handle him.”

  Luc? Weakly, Sam lifted her head and peered out the window. Even exhausted, she found the thought of seeing him gave her a jolt of energy.

  As though he felt this, the animal in her arms stirred and let out a weak meow. The cat! Since Luc had brought him in, he’d know the now-healed feline had been near death. He’d be able to substantiate his claim that she could heal animals with a touch. And, judging by his emotional reaction to little Lucy’s illness, he’d never believe Sam couldn’t heal a child.

  “Great,” she groaned. “Just what I don’t need.”

  “Stay put.” Patricia got out, her low-heeled boots crunching on the gravel as she strode over to Luc’s car. “What is it this time?” she asked. Sam could well imagine her friend, arms crossed, facing down the tall New Yorker. “Did you bring me another animal you just happened to witness being run over?”

  “I’d like to talk to Sam for a moment.” Luc’s voice, firm and implacable as he refused to take the bait, sent shivers up Sam’s spine. He sounded like whiskey and honey. Both potent and smooth.

  He didn’t seem to affect Patricia the same way. She sounded as though she might attempt to inflict bodily injury. “You’ll have to come back later. She’s not well.”

  Crap. Sam had to do something before this got completely out of hand. Maybe if she went over there and talked to him, he’d leave.

  After placing the still-groggy cat on the driver’s seat, she got out of the truck. She took one step and the world tilted crazily. Staggering, she was glad she wasn’t carrying the animal. Even emptyarmed, she’d be lucky to avoid doing a face plant in the gravel. She prayed Luc didn’t walk over to Patricia’s truck.

  “Sam!” Patricia’s voice seemed to come from a distance. Weaving, Sam fell to her knees. She managed to throw out her hands in front of her, but couldn’t stifle a sharp yelp as the gravel stung her knees and palms.

  “Let me help you.” Luc knelt down beside her. She could swear, even in her weakened condition, that she could smell his scent. Musk and lime, with a hint of fern-shaded forest.

  “Are you all right?”

  His touch felt far too good. She fought the urge to lean into him.

  “Leave her alone.” Patricia’s emphatic voice vibrated with indignation, making Sam smile despite her bone-deep weariness.

  Ah, but Sam didn’t want him to leave her alone. The longer he held her, the better she felt.

  Bemused, she finally gave in and leaned against him, breathing in his scent, savoring the feel of his sturdy body. How was this possible? The more they shared contact, the stronger she felt, as though his energy infused her.

  Finally, she gathered enough strength to stand—but only with his help.

  “Are you all right?” he murmured into her hair.

  A shiver ran through her. Suddenly tongue-tied, she nodded. Tilting her head to look at him, she found him gazing at her with tenderness in his eyes.

  Her heart turned over.

  “How is the cat?” he asked quietly.

  “He’s resting.”

  “Really?” he drawled, looking from Sam to Patricia. “That’s odd, since I was told the cat died.”

  “My assistant was mistaken,” Patricia stated.

  One look at Luc’s implacable expression and Sam knew he didn’t buy it. “Is he in your truck? I’d like to see him. You know, ever since I brought him in today, I’ve been worried about his health. But, since I was told he was dead, imagine my astonishment when I saw you carrying him out of the clinic and loading him into your truck.”

  “Leave the cat alone.” Patricia moved to block him. “Look, he’s still unconscious. On top of that, Sam’s really sick, as you can see. I’ve got to get both of them into the house so they can rest.”

  Keeping his arms around Sam, Luc shook his head. “I’d like to talk to Sam. Alone, if you don’t mind.”

  Patricia shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “This is getting annoying.”

  “It’s all right.” Sam closed her eyes for a second, savoring Luc’s strength. “We can talk.”

  Lips pressed together mutinously, Patricia glared at Luc. “I want both Sam and the cat in the house first.” She led the way to the front door, yanking it open so Samantha and Luc could pass through. “Sam, you need to sit before you fall over.”

  Though she felt better, Sam sank down on the sofa.

  Patricia went out to retrieve the cat. Holding him in her arms when she returned a minute later, she glared at Luc. “You wanted to see him. Here he is.” Gently placing the animal on the soft couch cushion, she motioned him over.

  After a cursory examination, during which the cat opened his eyes and sniffed at him, Luc glanced from Patricia to Sam. The intensity of his gaze would have melted steel. “We still need to talk. Alone.”

  “Sam?” Patricia crossed her arms again.

  “It’s all right,” she sighed, longing foolishly for Luc to touch her once more. “It’s late and you need to grab something to eat and get some rest. Luc is seeing things that don’t exist. Either way, I can spare a
few minutes.”

  “No more than a couple.” Patricia’s fierce tone dared him to argue. “You need to rest, too.”

  “Of course she does.” He lowered himself to the sofa next to Sam, his jean-covered thigh touching hers.

  All she could think was Ahhh. She closed her eyes, savoring the strength even this slight contact brought her. Her entire body vibrated at the tendrils of awareness she felt. No, more than that—need, desire, a sexual craving. For him.

  Though she knew she should move away, she instead slid closer, snuggling against him and resting her head on his shoulder. She didn’t dare look either at him or at her best friend, afraid of what her eyes might reveal.

  Openmouthed, Patricia stared. Then, muttering under her breath, she headed for the door.

  A moment passed. Sam waited for Luc to speak, bracing herself, desperately trying to formulate reasonable answers to the questions that were sure to come.

  Instead, he got up from the couch. She shivered, feeling the absence of his body like a sharp ache. Rather than abating, her need flared, as though intensified by the end of contact. This shocked her, as did her suddenly high energy and sense of well-being. Healing always depleted her. Always. Until now.

  Now, simply because he’d touched her…It was as if he, this stranger, could somehow replenish her.

  Luc began pacing. She couldn’t look away from his dark, masculine beauty. “I asked you for the truth, Sam,” he said.

  “I gave you the truth. I can’t help your friend’s little girl.”

  He shot her a cold smile edged with mockery. “First the wolf cub, now this cat. You lied to me. Me, your—” He broke off, the stark hurt in his eyes belying his scornful expression.

  “Your what?” Confused, she sensed hidden layers to his words.

  As he opened his mouth to speak, the front door slammed open. Patricia burst back inside.

  “Don’t you ever knock?” Luc drawled.

  She ignored him, looking at Sam. “You’re not going to believe this. As I was driving home, my cell phone rang. Mrs. Atkinson’s poodle is missing. She’s frantic. She’s even called 911.”

  Sam sighed. She knew what that meant. “It’s dark and you look exhausted. Have you even made it anywhere to grab a sandwich?”

  “No. I was on my way when your friend here showed up with that cat. Now this.”

  “It’s too dark.”

  “Try telling that to Mrs. Atkinson.”

  “Who’s organizing the search?”

  “Guess.” Patricia’s worry showed in the fine lines around her mouth. “Since Mrs. Atkinson brings that dog to see me at least every other week, she thinks I’m her best friend. She asked me to do it.”

  “And you couldn’t turn her down.”

  “No.” One of Patricia’s weaknesses was that she couldn’t say no to anything involving animals. Sam also found that to be one of her friend’s most admirable qualities.

  “I’ll come help.”

  “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.” Patricia rubbed the back of her neck, managing to glare at Luc and smile at Sam almost at the same time. “In fact, it’s a downright bad idea. You need to go to bed and sleep.” She shot Luc another pointed look. “Otherwise, you’ll collapse. You know how you are.”

  “What do you mean by that?” Luc asked.

  Red slowly crept up Patricia’s neck to her face. “Never mind. Sam’s sick. She needs her rest.”

  “Actually, I feel amazingly better.” And she did. Sam wasn’t sure what to make of it, but she’d never had this much energy after a healing. Ever.

  Patricia sighed. Knowing her as well as she did, she realized if Sam set her mind to do something, there’d be no stopping her. “Charles Pentworth and John Stobie have made Mrs. Atkinson hysterical. Both of them are claiming the werewolf has the dog. Mrs. Atkinson won’t stop crying. I’ve called Dr. Ross to come and give her a sedative.”

  “Where are we meeting?” Sam lifted her chin, daring her friend to argue.

  “The park. At least it’s well lit. But someone said they saw the poodle heading into the woods.”

  The woods in the dark. Great. “I’ll meet you there.” Pushing herself up, Sam found Luc blocking her way.

  “We’ll meet you there,” he said. “Give us ten minutes.”

  “Fine.” Patricia sighed, shaking her hair loose from her ponytail and then gathering it up again. “I’ll see you in a little bit. Since I’m recruiting volunteers, I’ve got a few more people to talk to first, so wait for me if I’m a little late. Ten minutes.” With a tired wave, she left.

  “I’ll drive,” Luc said when Sam emerged from the bathroom. Despite the way her exhaustion kept flickering back, then vanishing, she needed to drive her own car, in case she needed to escape.

  When they arrived at the park, she was surprised at the size of the crowd despite the late hour. Nearly every space in the lot had been taken, and Luc had to park way in back.

  As he and Sam walked across the well-lit concrete, they saw people milling in the children’s play area and near the start of the paths, small groups clustered together and talking quietly. Everyone had been issued a whistle to hang around their neck.

  An awful, high-pitched shriek cut through the murmur of small talk. From a tight knot of people close to the gazebo, Mrs. Atkinson wailed again, flailing her flabby arms. “My poor baby!”

  After a moment of awkward silence, the chatter resumed.

  Someone blew a whistle. Immediately, the crowd quieted. Patricia stepped up on the gazebo steps and waved her bright orange bullhorn. Sam saw she’d taken the time to freshen her makeup, and was making an effort to appear energetic, despite the fact that it was nearly 10:00 p.m. and she’d been up seventeen hours.

  Patricia blew the whistle again to get everyone’s attention.

  “Listen up, people,” she yelled, the bullhorn distorting as well as amplifying her voice. “Break up into groups of two or three and head into the woods. If you find the poodle, blow on your whistle, three sharp blasts.” She demonstrated. “If he’s injured, blow twice. I’ve got a portable vet kit here, just in case.”

  At those words, Mrs. Atkinson began to wail again. Patricia raised her bullhorn once more. “Now go. Make sure you have your flashlights. And call me the second you find anything. Anything at all. Tubby was last seen heading toward the lake.”

  “Tubby?” Luc raised an elegant brow. “Who names their poodle Tubby?”

  “Little old ladies who feed a lot of table scraps.” Despite herself, Sam laughed. “Every dog she’s ever had has grown enormously fat. She had a Chihuahua when I was younger. That dog was enormous. He weighed twenty-one pounds and looked like a sausage with legs.”

  “Okay, so we’re looking for an obese poodle?”

  “Not that fat, not yet.” Sam started walking toward the darkness. “Tubby’s just very stocky. His name fits, actually.”

  Clicking his flashlight on, Luc kept pace with her. “I guess we’re our own group of two.”

  A shiver ran down her spine. She ignored it. “I guess so.” She wished she could stop thinking about that damn kiss.

  Pushing aside a branch, she headed into the trees, far from the well-traveled hiking path. On both sides of them, flashlights showed that other groups were also entering the woods, fanning out so that every square inch would be covered.

  “This is as thorough as searching for a child,” Luc commented. “I’m surprised at the turnout, especially since it’s after ten.”

  “Yeah, well, nothing much happens here in Anniversary. Something like this makes an event.” Releasing a branch too early, she narrowly missed snapping it in his face. “I’m sorry. You know, this might be a bit rough going.” She hoped she wasn’t being too obvious, but she wanted him to leave before he pursued his earlier line of questioning.

  Raising a brow, he smiled. “I can handle it, believe me.”

  “Maybe you can.” She pointed her flashlight at his feet. “But those expensive
Italian loafers might not fare as well.”

  “If they don’t, I’ll buy another pair,” he said calmly. “How did you know they were Italian?”

  “They look it. Shoes are my one addiction. Well, shoes and tortilla chips with salsa,” she amended.

  The two of them beat the bushes for what felt like hours, going over every inch of underbrush with their flashlights. The energy humming between them was strangely exhilarating, banishing even the faint tendrils of exhaustion that had been threatening earlier.

  Stepping out of the woods at the muddy lakeshore, Sam shone her beam at the water lapping the shore. “No Tubby. If he went down to the lake, he didn’t go this way.”

  “Shhh.” Luc’s touch on her arm made her want to lean into him and purr. “Listen. I hear something. It’s coming from that direction.” He pointed toward a grove of trees.

  Cocking her head, she strained her ears. “I don’t—”

  “Hush. That’s a small dog whimpering.” Luc started forward. “I think the poodle is over there. I can smell his fear and…pain. He’s still alive, but badly hurt.”

  “Smell his…? What?”

  Luc didn’t answer, striding toward the area he’d pointed to.

  As she hurried to keep up, a sense of unreality struck her. The cool, silver moonlight illuminated the hollows in his handsome, rugged face. He was beautiful and mysterious. Dangerous to her, but with the potential to become her savior.

  Here, now, this place and time…This man…Sometimes she felt as if he knew all of her secrets instinctively. Every thought, every wish, every desire, right down to the bare bones of her soul.

  But she’d only met him a little over two weeks ago.

  Sam shook her head. Odd ideas, especially for her. She wasn’t the slightest bit whimsical, nor given to flights of fancy. Except when Luc touched her. Or kissed her. At the memory, she felt a flash of heat. Taking a deep breath, she blinked to return to reality.

  “Listen,” he whispered.

  Again she tried. This time, she heard faint cries, an animal’s low wails of pain, and wondered how Luc had heard them from so far away.