by Mandy Rosko
No. That couldn’t be right. The ground wasn’t blurred, it was just moving really fast. So were his feet. He was running so fast with her that the wind flapped her hair around, made a haze of the earth, and made her deaf to everything but that noise.
Then the more important fact came crushing in on her. He was kidnapping her. Taking her deeper into the woods. Away from any help.
Shelley’s scream rocked the trees.
Chapter Two
Shelley’s eyes snapped open. Light blinded her, and sleep left her like a blanket being ripped away, leaving her wide awake. How long had she been out?
Instead of a blue sky, a pointed cabin roof made of logs sat above her, staring at her as she lay on a fur rug of some kind. A fur rug, not the leaves and twigs from outside.
Her hands flew to the worn blanket that covered her body and lifted it away. Aside from her hiking boots and socks, everything she’d worn while out in the woods was still on her. Roberto Cavalli jeans, long-sleeved shirt, everything, all the way down to the gold rings on her fingers and the locket at her throat.
Her fingers felt nice and clean. There were still prick marks from the pine needles, but someone—him no doubt—had cleaned her hands until they were a healthy peach instead of covered in dirt and green slime from decaying leaves. She touched her blond hair. It felt smooth and dry, and no leaves or twigs seemed to be stuck in it.
She didn’t understand. Why do this for her? Why clean her up and bother with blankets? To prevent infection? Get her to lower her guard? Who knew? She felt around the left side of her neck. Still tender, but a fresh bandage had been taped there.
She wasn’t relieved, nor did her nerves ease up. Just because she’d been bandaged up and nothing had been stolen—and nothing perverted had happened while she slept—didn’t mean she was safe while awake.
She hadn’t rented a cabin and knew no one in the area who had one. So it could only belong to one other person.
The door opened, and Shelley whipped her head around. He stood in the doorway, dressed this time—thank God—in faded jeans, old brown work boots with the heavy heels and steel toes, and a maroon T-shirt. The sun was behind him again, but now it wasn’t so bright or at the proper angle to shadow his face to her.
The beauty of his features actually threw her for a loop. A shadow of a beard darkened his square jaw. It was as dark as his thick head of shaggy hair, which didn’t quite reach his shoulders. He hadn’t shaved in a day or so, but she’d always found that look to be hot.
He stopped at the sight of her, his arms filled with firewood that went up to his chin. “I was hoping you’d still be out when I came back.”
She turned. There was a stone fireplace in the wall barely three feet away. The embers burned low, which explained the firewood he carried. Long metal prongs leaned against the stone. Could she get to the fire pokers before he got to her?
He stepped inside, his heavy boots clomping against the floorboards.
She didn’t want him near her. Shelley jumped up. “Where am I?” The sound of clinking chains reached her ears too late.
Her head snapped down. An iron shackle sat securely around her ankle, connected to a rusted black chain—a friggin’ chain!—as thick as her wrist.
Animal fear sucked any intelligent thought out of her head.
He put the wood down on the floor without taking his eyes off her. He held his hands out cautiously. “I can explain that.”
Shelley opened her mouth and shrieked. She ran at her captor and tackled him like a football player. She must have shocked his wits out of him because he flew off his feet and went down on his back. The bang from his body hitting the floor crashed with the impact of a crane dropping a truck.
Shelley pushed herself against his body, launching herself into a flying leap toward the door.
“Wait—”
Sunshine hit her face as she exited the cabin. Her legs were spaghetti weak. She stumbled down the three steps of his porch but managed to keep her footing.
She stopped abruptly. A thick tree line surrounded the cabin. No lake. No other cabins that she could see. Just a dark, dense forest.
“Wait! Come back!”
Shelley looked behind her.
Mistake! Her kidnapper had gotten to his feet and was running after her. She ran again. She tried to. The chain had run out of length, and it pulled her leg one way when she was trying to go the other. She lost her balance and was pulled down.
Shelley fell with a thud on her chest. The wind was knocked from her lungs, and she coughed, puffs of dirt clouding around her face.
Then he was on her. He turned her on her back and held her down, gray eyes flashing with annoyance. “Listen!”
Shelley struggled against him and screamed. She tried to at least. Her body was so weak she didn’t think he felt her pathetic blows, and the sound that came from her throat was more of an expulsion of air than a scream. He clamped his hand over her mouth to silence her anyway.
She bit him. Her teeth broke skin and blood splashed into her mouth. He yanked his hand away.
“Ah! Fuck!” He shook his hand out. Droplets of his blood spattered in the dirt as he got up off her, paced, and cursed.
He put his hand to his mouth to suck on the wound. Righteous glee surged through Shelley’s body.
Good. She was glad she hurt him. Glad for the taste of blood in her mouth even as she spat it out. If he tried anything on her, she’d bite off a whole finger.
With his back to her, he suddenly stiffened. His head came up and away from his hand, and his shoulders started to shake like an earthquake was rumbling under his skin.
Concern spiked inside her. Oh God. Was he having a seizure? She didn’t know anything about him, so it was possible. What if he died out here? She would still be chained up and alone in a place that didn’t look like it had a radio much less a phone to call for help.
Shelley got up and ran to him, but what she could do to help, she didn’t know. She’d never had any medical training or even seen someone having a seizure before. Her hand clasped his shoulder. “Are you—”
He spun, and eyes that were suddenly golden glared at her from under a caveman-thick brow that hadn’t been there before. His nose was longer, wider, and darker. Hair, long, gray, and black, sprouted on his face from his pores, and his teeth were as long and as pointed as a saber-tooth tiger’s.
A tiny scream erupted from her throat, and she jumped back. He followed, his boots heavy against the ground.
Shelley tried to take another step back, but the chain jerked and halted her. She looked down and saw that, yes, she was at her limit.
“Ge’ in the housh!” His voice was rough, deep, and slurred from the long teeth. “Lock the door an’ shtay away from me!”
Good advice, but her feet were frozen.
Then his bones broke and snapped at odd angles. They sounded like tree branches breaking, and she winced and covered her ears. More thick hairs sprouted on his face and arms as he doubled over.
That did it. Shelley unstuck her feet and ran back to the cabin. A hideous howl followed her.
She rushed inside and tried to slam the door, but it wouldn’t shut all the way.
The chain! The door stopped on the chain! Shelley dropped to her haunches and started yanking the chain inside in desperate tugs. She looked up as her kidnapper fell onto four paws.
Her heart stopped for some seconds before it began beating again in a frantic, drug-induced rush. God. She did not just see that. She did not just watch a man turn into a wolf!
The animal shook itself and seemed to settle before it turned its head and found her, golden eyes staring. Shelley froze as they locked her into place. The wolf seemed to be under the same spell.
It was the silver wolf that chased her last night. The one that had tried to kill her.
The animal came out of its daze, lifted its muzzle to the sky, and howled before charging toward her.
Heart in her mouth, Shelley pulled the cha
in the rest of the way with renewed vigor. The beast’s nails dugs holes into the earth as it charged, jumped clean across the porch, and smashed face first into the wooden door just as Shelley slammed it shut.
Shelley pressed her back to the door. Her breasts pumped and breath wheezed as she panted. What was that? What the hell was going on?
Uh, plain and simple, you idiot. There was a monster outside. And it wanted to kill her. Was going to kill her unless she thought of something fast. But she was still wearing the chain. Unless her kidnapper kept the key to it inside and not in the pair of jeans he’d just ruined, there was no way she was getting out of here.
Long nails scratched at the door outside. The wolf barked.
Tears streaked down Shelley’s cheeks. “Go away!”
She couldn’t give up. She just needed to calm down. That man, wolf, whatever he was, had kidnapped her. But wait, she knew exactly what he was. A werewolf. The word shouldn’t exist outside of horror movies and the paranormal romance novels she read, but there was no other explanation for it.
He was a freaking real, live werewolf.
More scratching and barking followed by a pitiful whining sounded outside.
It was the whine that snapped her out of it. Why would it be crying? No way was she opening the door to find out.
The fireplace. The pokers. Not something that could be used to saw through her chain, but any one of them would make a suitable weapon. She’d beaten the wolf before with the right swing of a log, so a metal poker would definitely make a better weapon.
Shelley got up and stepped one toe away from the door, trying to be quiet. The floor creaked and moaned like a dying man under her foot, and she cringed. Could this floor be any louder?
The door banged as the wolf threw himself against it. Barking, scratching, and whining renewed.
Shelley ran for the pokers, snatched one in her hands, and held it like she was about to go up to bat, same as she had the first time.
The animal outside continued to scratch the door, but no longer with the fierce determination of before. More as though the creature was losing hope she would make an appearance. More than anything, its painful whine, like that of a dog who only wanted the attention of its master, disturbed her.
She moved to the window to the right of the door and lifted away the lace curtain.
The wolf spotted her and, with a happy yip, jumped up from where it lay in front of the door.
Shelley leapt back as the wolf planted its paws on the windowsill to stand. Its wet nose pressed against the glass while its breath created a heavy fog.
It looked straight at her. Then the biggest tongue she’d ever seen rolled out of its mouth in the equivalent of a dog-smile.
It didn’t jump through the glass and rip her a new throat hole. It just smiled and stared.
When she didn’t come forward, however, the wolf stopped smiling, rested its muzzled between its paws, and started to whine again.
Almost as if it wanted her attention.
I must be out of my mind to even consider it.
Shelley stepped toward the door. The restless wolf pawed the window and resumed barking.
“I must be nuts,” she said to herself. “Yeah, I’m coming,” she said to the wolf.
She reached the door, leaned the poker against the wall, and gripped the handle.
The silver wolf jumped down, its paws thudding heavily against the porch. Its nails clicked as it moved to sit on the other side of the door, waiting for her to come out.
Heart pounding, Shelley took a deep breath.
You can still change your mind, she thought. She could stay right where she was and wait for the werewolf to go away or for help to arrive.
But the wolf let out another long whine, accented by a small, pain-filled howl.
Shelley sighed. She loved animals, and for whatever reason, this one was in pain. It didn’t seem like it wanted to harm her at any rate.
She opened the door.
This time the howl was a joyful one, as if saying, “At last!” And it launched itself at her.
Heavy paws landed on her shoulders. Fear prevented her from moving or screaming as hot dog breath panted in her face. At least the happy dog-smile was back, and its tail wagged side to side. She’d never owned a dog, but tail-wagging was always a good sign.
The wolf barked, and Shelley flinched, but was frozen to immobility as a wet tongue kissed her nose, cheeks, lips, and eyes. Everywhere that could be reached.
She turned her face, but the tongue followed, lapping her neck this time. She didn’t dare open her mouth to yell at it to stop in case that tongue got inside. Gross.
Shelley stepped back, but the beast followed. She gripped its coarse hair in her fingers and attempted to shove it off, but the wolf was stronger than she was.
Shelley tripped over her chain, screamed, and fell back on her ass. The weight of the wolf put her on her back.
The wolf continued to nuzzle and lick her as though nothing had happened. Shelley rolled on her stomach and shielded her head with her arms, and only then did she allow herself to laugh.
The wolf followed and stuck its wet nose in the cracks of her defenses, sniffing, trying to kiss her more, and whining when she resisted.
Shelley’s laughter continued, became crazed. She couldn’t stop. There was a werewolf on top of her, wagging its tail like an excited puppy and demanding her attention. “Stop! Stop it!”
The wolf groaned and dropped to the hardwood floor with her, rubbing his furred back and face against her since he could get attention no other way.
Shelley raised her head for a look. The wolf stayed where he was, still smiling at her.
“Huh.” Shelley rested her face in her palm, tapping manicured nails against her cheeks as she observed her happy, panting kidnapper.
“This is pretty intense.”
She reached out and threaded her fingers through the silver fur, and his heavy tail repeatedly pounded the floor in response.
Funny. It shone like real silver.
Chapter Three
Shelley woke when the bed shifted. She must have dozed off after climbing in. The room was still bright, so not much time had passed. Maybe ten minutes.
Well, Mindy—her agent—had said she needed to catch up on her sleep.
She lifted her head from the pillows she’d been snuggling.
He was there. Normal again, sitting at the edge of the mattress, naked but for the sheet around his privates.
Confused emotions warred within her. On the one hand, she already missed her new friend. On the other, she kind of needed him as a man so he could release her.
His back was to her, giving her a view of strong muscles and a slim waist. He had the body actors and models spent hours in the gym, or hundreds of thousands of dollars in surgery, to get and maintain. She wanted to reach out and touch those shoulders.
Shelley shook the thought from her head. Not a good idea. Must have come to her because she was so mellowed out from her nap. Instead of touching him, she sank further into the mattress and allowed an appreciative sigh to escape her.
He turned, eyes widening as he caught her staring.
She wasn’t scared of him anymore. Playing fetch and giving his wolfy self a belly scratch did that to her.
“Hey,” she said.
He swallowed. Though she wasn’t naked like he was, his eyes roved over her body. “Are you all right? I didn’t scratch you, did I?” he asked, his voice serious.
Shelley yawned, stretched, and sat up. She giggled at his desperate expression. “You were a perfect puppy.”
He jerked his head. “Puppy?”
She swung her legs off the old mattress so she could sit. The chain rattled, reminding her it was there. Shelley frowned at it, then shrugged.
When she climbed into bed the wolf had hopped in with her, circled, and lain down. She’d lain there, staring up at her kidnapper’s log ceiling while scratching his ears, contemplating why a werewolf woul
d bring her to his cabin, put her in chains, yet be so concerned for her well-being.
The only possible answer was the most logical one—to make certain he hadn’t infected her. Wasn’t that how it always went in those books she read? As for why his wolf-self would be so playful, well, there was another reason for that, but this was real life and not a romance novel, so she wasn’t about to consider that thought.
The important thing was he hadn’t infected her. So it was just a matter of time before he removed the chain and let her go.
“You got anything to eat?” she asked.
“Wait, wait. What do you mean puppy?” he demanded. “And why are we in my bed?”
“Your bearskin rug is comfy and all, but I didn’t want to relax on it. Since you don’t have a couch…” she trailed off with another shrug. She hadn’t meant to doze off like she had.
“I put you on the rug so you wouldn’t wake up afraid and chained in a man’s bed. And that doesn’t explain how I got inside.” He looked toward the door. “The door isn’t broken, and none of the windows are shattered.”
“I let you in.”
He spun on her, muscles flexed and eyes blazing. “You what?”
Shelley had trouble looking away from his naked chest. He had the most wonderful six-pack she’d ever seen, so deep and defined she bet she could climb it. “You were sitting outside all crying to get in like a lost puppy afraid of the dark or something. I felt bad.”
“Felt bad?” he repeated, mouth hanging.
Shelley nodded.
“I could’ve killed you.”
“Hmm.” An image of the silver-haired wolf came to mind, panting smile and tail wagging. “I kind of doubt that.”
“Unbelievable.” He got up, holding the sheet around his hips as he stepped in front of an aged wooden dresser.
Shelley snapped her head away when he dropped the sheet and pulled out a pair of jeans. Of course, she did still catch a little glimpse of his ass. Wow. Talk about full and amazing.
He was cute. Oh, who was she kidding? He was the hottest thing on two legs she’d seen in a while. And if this cabin was any indication, he was also the kind of guy who wouldn’t pass out a card with his agent’s phone number on it when asked on a date. Either way, watching him get dressed was pushing her luck.
