Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3)

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Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3) Page 3

by Anna Lowe


  He just shrugged. “Okay.”

  “You like it?”

  He pursed his lips like he’d never considered the question. “I like it well enough.”

  She looked out over the landscape. It was dry and harsh, but the open space was intriguing. A place to fill with dreams and hopes, if a person dared.

  “I was really sorry to hear about your mom,” he said in the silence that ensued.

  A heavy weight settled in her stomach, like it always did when she thought about her mother. Fifteen was a crappy age to lose your mom, and even a decade passing didn’t take away the sorrow.

  “How is your mom?” she asked, treading carefully over thin ice.

  Now it was his turn to shrug and look into the distance. “She finally split up with Bruce.” He shook his head, like he still couldn’t understand what drove her to marry his stepfather in the first place. “Married a different guy.”

  A better guy, she hoped. Though it would be hard to do worse.

  “Do you see her much?”

  “No,” he said, his voice flat and final, and his fingers flexed around the steering wheel. “Do you see much of your dad?”

  The lead in her gut settled deeper. “K.I.A.” Kyle would know what it meant. Killed in action; a nice way to say blown apart by a land mine.

  “Jesus, Stef.”

  She could feel his eyes on her but kept her gaze trained firmly ahead.

  “And your brother?” He asked like he was afraid to know.

  She shrugged. “He’s still in the army.” Still trying to follow in their father’s footsteps, even if that meant getting killed. Still failing to answer the letters she refused to quit sending because he was all the family she had left.

  She made a waving motion with her hands. “Anyway, there it is. Were you ever tempted to enlist?”

  He shook his head. “I only ever wanted to be a cop.”

  She read between the lines. Catch the bad guys. Put them away. Yeah, she could see the logic in that.

  The truck crested a hill, and she caught a view into the valley beyond. A splash of irrigated green marked what had to be the ranch: a clutch of low buildings surrounded by a patchwork of paddocks and fields. When Kyle turned off at an unmarked track soon after, she clutched her seat belt. Driving through the desert had a certain suspended-in-time feel to it, but nearing an unknown destination didn’t sit well with her nerves. The truck rolled over a low, arching bridge then under a timber gateway where the ranch brand hung: two circles, overlapping by a third. She found herself twisting for a second look as it flashed overhead. Where was he taking her?

  “Twin Moon Ranch,” Kyle murmured.

  When Kyle parked in a central square flanked by century-old cottonwoods, she made no move to get out. She shoved her hands under her thighs, clamping down on herself like someone was about to drag her away. Even when he came around and opened her door, she felt stuck in place. Her chin was nearly touching her chest, her eyes squeezed tight. Maybe she couldn’t do this. Maybe she could still find that rattlesnake. Maybe—

  “Hey,” Kyle whispered.

  She tilted her head away.

  “They can help.”

  Her shoulders hunched, a flimsy suit of armor against her fears.

  “I can help,” he said. “At least, I’ll try.”

  The words warmed up that bleak space between despair and doubt, and she looked up at him. His eyes were steady and promising: Scout’s honor. He pulled the door just a little bit wider.

  If he’d asked her now, she’d have admitted that the tough guy act was just a show. But he didn’t say anything; he just kept promising with those sincere eyes. She took a long, steadying breath, the kind she’d take on the starting line of a road race, then slid out of the car and eyed the building ahead.

  The musky scent of wolf greeted her. Something instinctual identified it immediately. Every step felt heavy, every breath forced. The only thing keeping her planting one foot in front of another was Kyle, maintaining an even pace at her side.

  Kyle was one thing. But what about the others?

  She didn’t like this. Didn’t like this one bit.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Kyle tried to convey a sense of confidence as he walked, though he was chastising himself inside. He should have explained about the pack on the drive over: how it worked, what shifters were, where she fit in. But Christ, he barely knew where he fit in.

  Fluffy bits of cottonwood tumbled across the open space, and a shadow moved behind one of the council house windows. Was it Ty? Cody? Shit, he really should have given Stefanie a heads up.

  “Stef,” he started, but it came out too low to be heard over the determined tread of her footsteps. When this woman decided she was ready for something, she was ready. Even if there was no way anyone could be ready for what was sure to come next.

  A flicker of a breeze toyed with Stefanie’s hair and his gaze couldn’t let her go.

  Stay removed. Don’t get involved. Don’t let yourself feel.

  His wolf huffed. Fat chance of that.

  She’d fascinated him from the moment he flipped her over, and now…now this. He’d lost a breath or two back home, when she’d come out after her shower. She looked fresher, newer, purer. A little more…alive. She smelled of rosewood and lavender and honeysuckle, and damn it, none of that came from his soap. Her hair was still shining from the shower, and the finger-comb marks begged his hands to plow those furrows for himself. He’d go right from there to the rest of her body, given half a chance. Even if the yellow shirt he’d lent her didn’t do much to highlight her figure, he already had a good idea of what was hidden beneath from when he’d pinned her down in the desert. Even now, his heart was skipping at the memory.

  The absolutely inappropriate memory. She was the tomboy from next door!

  Not any more, she isn’t, his wolf rumbled.

  Something about seeing her in his shirt was strangely pleasing to his wolf. It was just a plain T-shirt he’d inadvertently shrunk in the wash, but yellow worked on her, calming the effect of her incredible eyes. The brown had always seemed unique: something special inside the ordinary that only found its full voice in her eyes.

  Stefanie. She was back in his life. At that moment, he could have caught her and pulled her tight, marveling that one of the few positives in a turbulent life had been allowed to shine back in. She’d always been the funny girl next door, one of the few kids who didn’t pry or giggle or tease him into a fight. The only one who knew that when he said no to coming out to play he meant yes, if they’d only asked enough. That his yes, he was fine, meant he was anything but. He’d liked her then, and he liked her now, too.

  Liked her a little too much for her own good. He stuck his fists into his pockets as he walked and swallowed his wolf’s growl of reproach. He’d already let her down. It was his job to take care of her, his job to protect. His job to—

  He caught himself there. Since when was any of that his job?

  Except, in this case, he felt like he was born for that job.

  Damn right, his wolf murmured, studying her every move.

  Despite her tough-guy act, he could smell the fear on her, tempered only by exhaustion—and that stiff sense of pride, that dignity. He was leading her into a den of wolves—literally—and yet she was still in control. His own first-days-after were full of fury and violence, when the change was twisting his soul in knots. But maybe that was just him, screwed up as ever on the inside.

  There were three steps up to the council house; he remembered it seeming like the long, imposing flight of stairs up the capital building the first time he’d been brought here—brought in by the scruff of his neck, soiled and sour. At least he’d spare Stefanie that indignity. If only he could spare her the rest.

  He imagined the discussion that would take place, the hard questions. Even if the pack agreed to shelter her, where would she stay? At Tina’s? In the guesthouse? With old Aunt Jean?

  With me! Me! His wolf jumpe
d and waved like a kid hoping to be picked for a team.

  Keep your distance. Don’t get involved.

  Right, his wolf snickered. Try stopping me when I’m already all in.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Stef was close to balking and sprinting away when the door swung open and a man with golden blond hair emerged, flashing a smile that could power half of Hollywood.

  “Welcome to the ranch!”

  She blinked. She’d been expecting more of the dark and silent type, like Kyle. But this man could have been a surfer dude. A model. A champion snowboarder. Anything but a wolf.

  Kyle came up alongside her and nodded. “Cody.”

  When the man came down a step and held a hand out to her, she did her best to deliver a firm shake.

  “You must be Stefanie.” He grinned like it was the highlight of his day to stop whatever he’d been doing and find out how he could help.

  Apparently, Kyle had called ahead. She glanced over, but his gaze was fixed on the dark-haired beauty who appeared in the doorway ahead. Stef’s blood surged. The idea of Kyle being friends, neighbors, colleagues, or worse—lovers—with any other woman suddenly grated on her raw nerves. Even her gums ached, especially around her canines.

  Which didn’t make sense. A guy like Kyle could have any woman he wanted, and that beauty would certainly have her pick of men. So what if the thought sent pinpricks into her heart?

  She whipped her face into a neutral expression, determined not to give anything away. It wasn’t like she had some kind of claim to Kyle, after all.

  A chant started up inside. Claim, it said, quiet yet insistent. Claim.

  She tried not to let envy transfer to her handshake as she approached the woman. “Hi,” she said, feeling very much like the country peasant granted an audience with the queen.

  “I’m Tina.” The woman smiled, and her greeting was gracious, even if she looked weary. Behind the striking looks were carefully schooled features and steely determination. The woman was no pushover, that was for sure. And if she had any claim to Kyle, well, that was no business of Stef’s.

  So what if the chant was rising up again? Claim. Claim.

  A tap came on her back; Kyle was nodding her toward the cool shade of the room. In all the uncertainty of the moment, that touch was her anchor. She didn’t have to face this storm alone.

  A good thing, too, because there was a third introduction to be made, and even Kyle’s broad shoulders allowed a deferential tilt to that man.

  “This is Ty,” Cody said from behind.

  The man sat and smoldered, a volcano about to erupt. His piercing gaze fixed on her the way a farmer regards a brewing storm—trouble with a capital T.

  The door clicked shut behind her, and a long, silent minute went by. She had the uncomfortable sensation of standing amidst three kings of the food chain, each with his own unassailable power. Ty was the grizzled lion, king of the realm. Cody was a cougar: smooth, silky, and sleek. And Kyle—he was the watchful hawk, circling just out of reach.

  The weighty silence made her crave his reassuring touch—and just like that, it was there, a warm hand on her back. Her mind clung to the brief contact and wrapped it like an ember deep inside. She’d take Kyle’s softer brand of brooding power over these other forces of nature, any day.

  “You found her where?” Ty snapped.

  The question was aimed at Kyle as if she was a mongrel found on the side of the road. One with a lot of fleas. She did her best to keep her shoulders back and her chin high, even though what she really wanted was to roll into a tight ball.

  “She was up by the mesa.”

  She watched Kyle’s lips shape each letter, his cheeks rise and fall. That face, that voice, were the only familiar things in the room.

  “Doing what?”

  Kyle hesitated, and the memory of their encounter washed over her like a heat wave. Running and tumbling had somehow turned into touching, sniffing, wanting—badly. The chant—Claim! Claim!—beat in her mind alongside that memory. It carried her away from this awkward place and into the desert, where the vast openness promised anything was possible. Even escape. She swooped and dove there like an eagle, until a tap broke in to her reverie, snapping her back to the present.

  Everyone was looking at her.

  “Tell us what happened,” Tina said. “Where. When.”

  Stef stared at the hardwood floor, wishing she could somehow squeeze through the cracks in the floorboards and slither away.

  “Last Tuesday,” she told the floor. “The seventh. In Colorado.”

  “Where?” Ty demanded.

  “North Ridge.”

  When the room filled with a hum of recognition, she glanced around, seeing faces of consternation.

  “North Ridge,” Ty repeated, slowly. His thunderous expression grew darker still.

  Kyle exchanged a grim look with Cody.

  “You know North Ridge?” she ventured.

  Tina answered with a curt nod, and Cody chimed in with an apologetic look. “A wolf pack, not exactly known for their…good manners.”

  Wolf pack? Her eyes bounced around the room. Is that what this ranch was?

  “What the hell were you doing on North Ridge territory?” Ty barked.

  She flinched. At her side, something blurred—Kyle, taking a lightning step forward while viciously clearing his throat. Or was that a growl? Ty flushed and she could swear his eyes glowed. They only wavered when a woman’s voice sounded from the doorway.

  “What my completely insensitive mate is saying,” the woman said, “is what business brought you there?”

  Stef swiveled and spotted a leggy brunette stalking toward Ty, socking him with a frown.

  Mate? The word stuck in her ears.

  “Hi, Lana,” Cody grinned broadly at the newcomer as Ty lowered his chin.

  She got the feeling there weren’t too many people who could reprimand Ty. Except maybe this one, his mate. Why not partner or wife? But no, those terms were far too ordinary for the obvious bond between those two. The way Ty’s eyes softened when they swung to the woman’s protruding baby bump only reinforced the impression.

  “Right,” he murmured, without the growl this time. “What business brought you there?”

  And just like that, all eyes were back on Stef.

  “I work for a renewable energy group, advising clients on solar power.” Her dream job, it once seemed, giving her the opportunity to travel to interesting places throughout the west while pursuing a career she was passionate about.

  Unfortunately, “interesting” places included North Ridge, Colorado.

  “I had a bad feeling about the place—and Ron, the ranch manager—right away.” She tried to shake the tension away, but all that did was pull her shoulders tighter. She looked at Kyle. Maybe if she pretended he was the only one in the room, she could get the rest out.

  You can do it, those blue eyes said. One word at a time. They can help.

  She doubted anyone could.

  I can help.

  She took a deep breath and went on.

  “I figured Ron was just another eccentric customer looking to live off the grid.” He seemed friendly enough, even if he did reek of the hand-rolled cigarettes he smoked. And if he called her back to the ranch again and again before settling on an order, oh well. It was all part of her job.

  That’s what she thought right up until her fourth trip out to the ranch, when he’d dispensed with pleasantries and broken into a crazy speech about love and mates and forever. His eyes had gleamed with madness as he held her like in a vise-tight grip then bent his head to her neck. Her shouts and kicks pushed him away once, twice—but then he slammed her against a wall and held her tight. And the next thing she knew, there was the cold shock of a bite—the bite of impossibly long teeth sinking into her flesh. She remembered Ron sighing in pleasure, the nauseating tobacco scent, the oozing warmth of her own blood trickling down her neck—

  Her hand flew to cover the scar and she brok
e off, desperately wishing she was someone else, somewhere else. Anywhere but this room full of strangers who were examining her like a new disease. All but Kyle, whose eyes were sorrow and anger and hope, all wrapped up in blue. The golden flakes were back, too. Stefanie blinked, denying her tears a way out, and focused on him until she regained her footing.

  “I got away.” She rushed through the memories of kicking Ron in the groin, of ramming a palm into his nose to break it. “I got in my car and—”

  Ty held up a hand, stopping her flat. “Once?”

  Everyone leaned in for her answer.

  “How many times did he bite you? Once? Twice?”

  “What does it matter?” she snapped. Suddenly, she didn’t care if Ty could kill her with a single look. Let him stare her down. If nothing else, it would give her the end she’d so desired.

  “It’s important,” Lana said gently.

  Kyle gave her an encouraging nod, and she reluctantly delved back into her memories. She remembered Ron at her throat, not sucking or tearing, just holding. Waiting for something? Or was he just enjoying his sick pleasure? Whatever the case, she had used the lapse to butt her knee into his groin and make her escape.

  “Once.”

  Kyle looked relieved; Ty, unhappy. Cody was unreadable, but Tina and Lana gave her warm looks.

  “And then you got away.” Tina nodded, her tone telling Stef she did well.

  Yes, she had done well. She had gotten away, hadn’t she? Still, the thought didn’t give her much of a boost.

  “Why is one or two bites important?”

  “One bite turns, the second bite mates,” Tina and Cody said in singsong unison, as if reciting an old saying.

  She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear more. Turning? Mating? She felt herself leaning in Kyle’s direction, seeking out his reassurance.

  Lana gave her a slow look-over then turned to Kyle. “You mean you haven’t told her?”

  She snapped to attention as he gave a sheepish shake of the head. “Tell me what?”

  Silence all around.

  “Tell me what?”

 

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