A dog? Maybe it’s just a big dog, she thought. A really big dog or a runaway cow. After all, this was a rural community. And a northern rural community at that, so maybe it’s just a local moose, ha, ha. . . . She struggled to keep her fear at bay and redoubled her efforts on the door locks, all the while straining to listen over the sound of her own harsh breathing.
The rear door lock was just beginning to show promise when a low, rumbling growl caused her to drop her keys. She spun to see a monstrous shape emerge from the shadows, stiff-legged and head lowered. A wolf? It was bigger than any damn wolf had a right to be. Jesus. Some primal instinct warned her not to run and not to scream, that the animal would be on her instantly if she did so.
She backed away slowly, trying not to slip, trying to put the truck between herself and the creature. Its eyes glowed green like something out of a horror flick, but this was no movie. Snarling black lips pulled back to expose gleaming ivory teeth. The grizzled gray fur around its neck was bristling. Zoey was minutely aware that the hair on the back of her own neck was standing on end. Her breath came in short shuddering gasps as she blindly felt for the truck behind her with her hands, sliding her feet carefully without lifting them from the pavement.
She made it around the corner of the Bronco. As soon as she was out of the wolf’s line of sight, she turned and half skated, half ran for the front of the truck as fast as the glassy pavement would allow. Don’t fall, don’t fall! It was a litany in her brain as she scrambled up the slippery front bumper onto the icy hood. With no hope of outrunning the creature and no safe place in sight, the roof of the truck seemed like her best bet—if she could make it. Don’t fall, don’t fall! Flailing for a handhold, she seized an ice-crusted windshield wiper, only to have the metal frame snap off in her hand. She screamed as she slid back a few inches.
The wolf sprang at once. It scrabbled and clawed, unable to find a purchase on the ice-coated metal. Foam from its snapping jaws sprayed over her as the beast roared its frustration. Finally it slipped back to the ground and began to pace around the truck.
Zoey managed to shimmy up the hood until she was able to put her back against the windshield, and pull her knees up to her chin. She risked a glance at the roof behind her—she had to get higher. Before she could move, however, the wolf attacked again, scrambling its way up the front bumper. Vicious jaws slashed at her. Without thought, Zoey kicked out at the wolf, knocking one leg out from under it. It slid backward but not before it clamped its teeth on her calf. The enormous weight of the creature dragged at her and she felt herself starting to slide....
One hand still clutched the broken windshield wiper and she used it, whipping the creature’s face and muzzle with the frozen blade until she landed a slice across one ungodly glowing eye. The rage-filled snarl became a strangled yelp; the wolf released her leg and slipped from the hood. This time Zoey didn’t look, just turned and launched herself upward for the roof rack. She came down hard, adrenaline keeping her from feeling the impact of the bruising metal rails. She was conscious only of the desperate need to claw and grasp and cling and pull until she was safely on the very top of the vehicle.
Except she wasn’t safe. Not by a long shot. Crap. She could plainly see that she wasn’t high enough. Crap, crap, crap. The enraged wolf leapt upward in spite of the fact that its feet could find little traction on the ice-coated pavement. What it couldn’t gain in momentum, the wolf made up for in effort, hurling itself repeatedly against the Bronco. Its snapping jaws came so close that Zoey could see the bleeding welts across its face, see that one of its hellish eyes was now clouded and half-closed. She slashed at it again, catching its tender nose so it howled in frustration and pain as it dropped to the ground. Snarling, it paced back and forth like a caged lion, watching her. Waiting.
The wind picked up and the freezing rain intensified. Huddled on her knees in the exact center of the icy roof, Zoey’s adrenaline began to ebb. She was cold and exhausted, and parts of her were numb. But she wasn’t helpless; she wouldn’t allow herself to think that way. The thin windshield wiper was badly bent with pieces of it missing, but she’d damn well punch the wolf in the nose with her bare fist if she had to. If she still could....
The wolf sprang again.
Good girls should NEVER CRY WOLF.
But who wants to be good?
Be sure to pick up Cynthia Eden’s latest novel,
out next month!
Lucas didn’t take the woman back to his house on Bryton Road. The place was probably still crawling with cops and reporters, and he didn’t feel like dealing with all that crap.
He called his first in command, Piers Stratus, to let him know that he was out of jail and to tell him that there were two unwanted coyotes in town.
The woman—Sarah—didn’t speak while he drove. He could feel the waves of tension rolling off her, shaking her body.
She was scared. She’d done a fair job of hiding her fear back at the police station and then at the park, at first anyway. But as the darkness had fallen, he’d seen the fear. Smelled it.
Sarah had known she was being hunted.
He pushed a button on his remote. The wrought-iron gates before him opened and revealed the curving drive that led to his second LA home. In the hills, it gave him a great view of the city below, and that view let him know when company was coming, long before any unexpected guests arrived.
When the gate shut behind him, he saw Sarah sag slightly, settling back into her seat. The scent of her fear finally eased.
Like most of his kind, he usually enjoyed the smell of fear. But he didn’t . . . like the scent on her.
He much preferred the softer scent, like vanilla cream, that he could all but taste as it clung to her skin. Perhaps he would get a taste, later.
With a flick of his wrist, he killed the ignition. The house was right in front of them. Two stories. Long, tall windows.
And, hopefully, no more dead bodies.
He eased out of the car, stretching slowly. Then he walked around and opened the door for Sarah. As any man would, Lucas admired the pale flash of thigh when her skirt crept up. And he wondered just what secrets the lovely lady was keeping from him.
“We’re going to talk.” An order. He wanted to know everything, starting with why the dead human had been at his place.
She gave a quick nod. “Okay, I—”
A wolf bounded out of the house. A flash of black fur. Golden eyes. Teeth.
Shit. It wasn’t safe for the kid. Not until he found out what was going on—
The wolf ran to him. Tossed back his head and howled.
Sarah laughed softly.
Laughed.
His stare shot to her just in time to catch the smile on her lips. His hand lifted, and, almost helplessly, he traced that smile with his fingertips.
Her breath caught.
Lucas ignored the tightening in his gut. “Shouldn’t you be afraid?” After the coyotes, he’d expected her to flinch away from any other shifters. And Jordan was one big wolf, with claws and teeth that could easily rip a woman like Sarah apart.
She looked back at the wolf who watched them. “He’s so young, little more than a kid. One who’s glad you’re—”
No.
Understanding dawned, fast and brutal in his mind. I’m more than human. She’d told him that, he just hadn’t understood exactly what she was. Until now.
His hands locked around her arms and Lucas pulled her up against him. Nose to nose, close enough so that he could see the dark gold glimmering in the depths of her eyes. “Jordan, get the hell out of here.” He gave the order to his brother without ever looking away from her.
The wolf growled.
“Go!”
The young wolf pushed against his leg—letting me know he’s pissed, cause Jordan hates when I boss his ass—and then the wolf backed away.
“Now for you, sweetheart.” His fingers tightened. “Why don’t we just go back to that part about you not being human?”
He was turned on, achingly hard, for a woman he barely knew. Not normally a big deal. He had a more than healthy sex drive. Most shifters did. The animal inside liked to play.
But Sarah . . . he didn’t trust her, not for a minute, and he didn’t usually have sex with women he didn’t trust. A man could be vulnerable to attack when he was fucking.
“You know what I am, Lucas,” she said and shrugged, the move both careless and fake because he knew that she cared, too much.
“Tell me.” Her mouth was so close. He could still taste her. That kiss earlier had just been a tease.
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The Darkest Sin Page 29
