by Anna Lowe
Kyle sucked his lower lip, thinking that one over as he walked. There were a million complications to that scenario—starting with a shit of a wolf named Ron and his badass alpha, Greer. Too many variables he couldn’t control. Working criminal cases for the state was much easier than this. He could stay detached, cool, professional. With Stef, though…Well, the night was proof he hadn’t been anything close to detached or cool or professional.
Not detached. Attached. His wolf grinned. Tell me you didn’t like that?
They were a mess of sweat, burrs, and dust by the time they reached the bottom stair of his porch. They’d been ambling along like the outside world didn’t exist, but shit, there was his truck and his house, telling them it did. His chest tightened, knowing that any moment, she might pull away and end this magical night.
“Kyle,” she started.
Not a protest. A plea.
Her hand was stroking his back, and before either of them moved one inch closer to rational thought, he pulled her against his chest and claimed her mouth in a hurricane of a kiss. A triumphant flash hammered his body when her tongue reached back for his, hungering for more.
He got lost in her so quickly, so hopelessly, that when the porch step creaked under them, he wondered if it was a warning. Was he letting himself feel too much, too fast? But there was no fighting this insatiable thirst, and all he could do was quench it—or at least try. Stef tasted of everything good: like warm milk, an innocent pleasure from a long time ago, back to comfort him with its familiar flavor one more time.
They got as far as the top step before folding into each other again, letting quiet coos and gentle touches escalate into a breathless blur. For a while, she took the length of him in her hand and stroked with a rhythm no woman had ever gifted him with before. It was all he could do to hold back a tremble and eventually pull away. This night was about her, not him. He kissed her deep and long then eased her back. His heart was racing at the sight of her, laid out before him like a feast.
His wolf licked his lips.
Her, not you, he told the beast.
Sure, man. Anything you say.
He kneeled before her and fluttered kisses down her body, all the way down to her mound. She was holding her breath, and hell, he was too, at the threshold to her private world. He spread her wide, and what was intended as a gentle kiss turned into a greedy lick when the flavor of her rocketed through his nerves. He circled the nub of her clit then sucked. Hard.
A spasm went through her, and though her eyes were shining with surprise when he glanced up, she spread her legs wider, begging for more. He wanted to freeze the moment in a mental picture, right there. Right on her needing him as badly as he needed her. No woman had ever looked at him like that. Lust, yes. Aroused, hell yeah. But need—actual life-or-death need, like he was her air, her water, her sustenance—that was a first.
Why that didn’t terrify him, he had no idea.
He pushed all thought away because this night was about instinct, after all. His tongue pushed deeper and deeper while her inner muscles tried to catch it the way she’d clamped around his cock before. It might have made him laugh if he hadn’t been so tuned in to the little noises she made, telling him he was the first to earn the privilege of such an intimate touch.
The first. The last. His wolf made an oath, there and then. No man would ever touch this woman again. No one but him. Just like he had no further need for any woman but her.
The idea drove him to take her higher, higher, before letting her erupt in pleasure around him.
“Kyle! Yes!” When she gasped and writhed in the grips of a mighty orgasm, his blood sang.
By the time he got her to his bed, the ache in his cock was a burn. She fell right into place under him, her legs wrapped high around his waist. He plunged home again and again, groaning out loud. She was just the right size: snug around his cock and deep as an ocean, or so it seemed. She was straining for something off the charts, something beyond the physical, and part of him was making crazy inner vows to chase down exactly what that was and bring it to her like a gift.
He glanced down, following the hard center line of her abs to the point where his cock was buried in her. He pulled back a little, just to remind himself they were two and not one. He watched, fascinated, until nothing registered but her nails on his back and the heat winding around the two of them, and they were both flying, flying, gone. He closed his eyes through the height of his pounding climax, wondering where it would end: a soft landing in a place called home, or a sudden crash into the briar patch of regret.
When he collapsed into the pillow and pulled Stef close, her body molded to his in slow, comfortable degrees. He wondered how—why—this could be. He’d gotten drunk around women. Gotten drunk with women. But never, ever had he gotten drunk on a woman—on her scent, her shape, her sensuality. The way she touched him, guided him, pleasured him… It was as if they’d been together many times before. He couldn’t doubt this is how they belonged: together.
And yet he knew that night had a way of playing tricks on a man, and daylight could cast an awfully harsh spotlight on mornings-after. The next time Kyle opened his eyes, the sun was peeking over the horizon. He reached an arm out to tug Stef closer, but she was gone.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Stef sat on a hilltop, picking at the fraying denim of the jeans she’d slipped on before stealing out of Kyle’s house. Shafts of pale yellow and pink slanted over the horizon. The colors of fear and regret. She hung her head in her arms and sniffed, but the sun prodded mercilessly, forcing her tear-streaked face up. God, what had she done? What was she becoming?
She’d slept with a man she had no right sleeping with. A friend.
A he-wolf. A shifter.
Just like you.
There it was again, that voice. The one that had pushed her to go much too far last night with a man whose touch was so soft, so secure, that she’d fallen under his spell. She’d wanted him with such desperation that it scared her, thinking only about how good it felt to be two and not one. So what if they’d been buddies fifteen years ago? Buddies didn’t kiss, or lick, or hump each other like a couple of wild things in the night. Right?
It was wrong. All wrong.
Then why did it feel so right? the inner voice demanded.
The scar on her neck throbbed, and that was her answer. It was easy to believe she really felt something for Kyle, when in truth she was turning into a beast. Ron’s bite must have sparked animal urges in her. Irresistible urges. What if she started spreading her legs for any male who came along at the right place and time? Worse, what if she’d come to think of it as something good? As magic—even love?
She hugged her knees tighter and hid her face again. If this was her future, she didn’t want it. Crazed nights under the moon? Frantic fucks with strangers? She’d have no pride, no dignity.
Red desert rock heated under the rising sun as her cheeks burned with the memories. Of course Kyle had gone along with the impulse. He was a man, and not only a man, but a wolf—a beast that hid under the wounded warrior.
The same kind of beast that hid inside her now, too.
She wanted to be disgusted with herself, but a hot rush came with the memories. When he’d lowered her to the ground and hammered into her, she’d moaned loud enough to scratch her own throat. She hadn’t just enjoyed the heat of him but gloried in it. Lovemaking like she’d never experienced—
Sex, she corrected herself. That was sex, raw and unadulterated.
Love, insisted a contralto voice she was starting to recognize as her wolf’s.
Great, now she was having conversations with the beast. If that wasn’t proof of her insanity, nothing was.
Her human side stomped in defiance. I barely know him! How can it be love?
The wolf growled. We know him. He’s ours.
You disgust me!
The wolf snarled back. Nothing in me didn’t exist in you before. I’m part of you.
She
could have hissed. I’ve never jumped a man like that before!
The wolf snickered. You would have if you met him. Not that boy you remember, but this man. This one!
Stef didn’t have an answer to that truth; she just got stuck there, staring at a hedgehog cactus with thorns that lined up in neat, overlapping rows. Just like her life: a hopeless maze of thorns.
The wolf countered with another rush of memories.
Friend. Lover. Mate. Hadn’t he been gentle, even reverent?
She closed her eyes and remembered his thumb, sliding across her lower lip. His eyes had taken on the look of a man regarding a secret treasure, fraught with danger and reward. His arms wrapped around her like a promise to hold on forever.
Hadn’t that felt good? the wolf demanded.
It did feel good. More than good. He’d given her exactly what she needed, exactly as she’d dreamed it. But that was the thing: how could something that perfect be real?
It was real. You wanted him. He wanted you. It’s destiny.
She hugged herself tightly, pushing the wolf away. I don’t want him!
Oh yes? Then why are you imagining it’s his arms hugging you right now?
She jerked her arms clear of her ribs and half-jumped to her feet. Her mind raced for a reply, but her thoughts were all jumbled and her arms kept coming back to her sides, trying to squeeze away the empty ache of an emotion she didn’t dare name.
Maybe last night had nothing to do with base urges and everything to do with the man. Maybe her wolf wasn’t lying. She’d felt so right being with him…
Because it is right, the wolf grumbled. We need him.
She stiffened at the thought. She didn’t need to be held, or comforted, or protected. She didn’t need this man or any other. She needed…what?
She collapsed into the flimsy shelter of her own body and sucked in a long, stuttering breath. Lost, she was so lost. With nowhere to go. No one to turn to.
You have him.
She feigned deaf ears. The wolf was trying to sell her a drug she didn’t want or need, but she wouldn’t give in. She had to fight it, along with the attraction to him. Because somewhere inside, she was still herself, and she couldn’t let that be pried out of her.
She spun around. The highway wasn’t too far. She could hike out, catch a ride. Escape.
Running from yourself or from the man?
She could head south to Mexico. Wasn’t that where people on the run went? She could cross the border, change her identity, and then she’d…she’d…
You’ll do what?
If Kyle didn’t come after her, Ron would. Ron and his pack of wolves. She could feel that in her bones. Ron’s bite had forged some kind of connection that lurked in her body like a disease. Being with Kyle had kept it at bay, but sooner or later, Ron would come for her.
She shivered. Whatever danger lurked around Twin Moon Ranch, whatever weakness she had for Kyle, it was nothing like the danger posed by Ron and his North Ridge pack. Running wasn’t the solution.
So stay, the wolf nodded. Stay.
She looked south, into the depths of the desert, then north, toward the highway, and finally east, where the peak of Kyle’s roof barely showed above a rise. The pull of it was like the glow of a fire in the darkness of night. The glow of home.
Her cynical snort broke the morning silence. Running wasn’t the answer, but staying had its dangers, too. Even if she could trust Kyle, she couldn’t trust herself.
She’d go back, but she wouldn’t cave in. She’d keep her pride, her honor. She wouldn’t crumble. No matter how much she wanted to, she wouldn’t crumble.
Not even for him.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Kyle sat on the top step of the porch, eyes fixed on the hill while his gut jumped up and down. He rubbed his eyes so hard, he saw spots. And in those spots, little highlights of an unforgettable night.
He could scent her out there, just as he could smell her regret. If only he could talk to her and explain. But he couldn’t even explain what happened to himself, so what good would it be trying to tell her?
Okay, he probably—no, he definitely shouldn’t have succumbed to his wolf’s desire. But resisting her was like telling his lungs not to breathe or his heart not to beat. And telling himself it was wrong felt like a lie. He’d never felt that good in his life. Had never felt that full of…something warm and sweet and unfamiliar, like his veins had filled with honey and his mind floated on a pleasantly warm buzz. Because they’d had peace, real peace in those early morning hours.
His head snapped up at a movement in the distance. Stef was coming out of the hills. She came striding along like an Amazon, so tough and bristling, he could almost hear her armor clink. He pulled in a slow breath and let it out again, counting the seconds until she came thumping up the stairs as if she was planning to sweep right past him and fly into the house.
Well, he wasn’t letting her fly anywhere, not yet. Not like this.
He parked himself on the top step, right in her path.
Stomp, stomp, stop. She came to a thudding halt, one step below.
“Stef,” he started, not really sure what he’d say next.
She glared.
Yeah, she was upset. He got the message. But it was a stubborn, forced kind of glare. The kind that said she was trying to convince herself as much as him.
“Look,” they both said at exactly the same time.
For a minute, she glared on, but then the anger seeped away and all he saw before she dropped her eyes was pain. Pain and emptiness. He would have bartered anything for the right word or gesture to make things right, but the desert wasn’t exactly throwing ideas at him, not the way it had been wildly suggesting last night.
“Stef,” he tried again, trying to make it softer this time. A plea, not an accusation. “What’s wrong?”
She tilted her head up slowly, and it was awkward, standing on the steps like that. But she seemed okay with awkward, so he didn’t move. Her jaw was clenching, and a vein on her neck pulsed.
“Everything’s wrong,” she mumbled. Her hands fluttered in the air as she searched for words.
“Last night wasn’t wrong.” He meant for it to come out soft, but it was more of a declaration. The second part, though, came out in a whisper. “Us, I mean. You didn’t want it?”
His ears strained for her answer.
“I wanted it too much,” she whispered.
He could barely hear her voice after her chin dropped and her shoulders rounded like a turtle halfway into its shell. God, he wished he could see something other than the top of her head. He put a finger under her chin and tipped it up so he could see the warm brown of her eyes, sparking gold and green. Scared and defiant at the same time. Shining with tears she refused to release.
“I barely know you,” she said.
“You know me,” he growled.
“We were kids then…”
“What’s so different now?”
She looked away and let a finger wander to the scar on her neck. “A lot of things.”
He shook his head and looked at her long and hard until she was forced to look back.
“So okay, we grew up.”
She snorted. “Sure did.”
“But what’s so different?” No one had ever understood him as well as her; no one ever would.
She opened her mouth with a retort, but then closed it again, along with her glistening eyes. Slowly, she leaned forward until her forehead was on his chest and let his arms slide around her shoulders to pull her close. And even though it hurt to see her so upset, something in him sang.
She wanted it too much. She wanted him.
“I’m just so…so mixed-up,” she sniffed into the fabric of his shirt.
He snorted. “If I’d been half as together as you the morning after my first change…”
Part of him wanted to sit her in his kitchen and feed her cookies and warm milk; the other part wanted to take her to his bedroom and have her agai
n and again. It was just like last night, when his the wolf had chanted for him to bite her—on their first night! The beast was no better than Ron, getting carried away on the intense scent of a Changeling. Damn wolf was getting greedy.
Damn wolf knows his mate when he scents her, came the rumbling reply.
He pulled her up to the top step and hugged her long and close, scrunching his eyes tightly like that might keep reality away. If only it could be him and her and nothing else.
“Some things don’t change, Stef.”
“Yeah?” She sniffed, but there was a tiny thread of hope in it. “Like what?”
“Like what really counts.” Like you and me and someday, he wanted to add, but couldn’t quite get that part out. “Like us.”
His voice wavered, and his wolf barked inside. Get yourself together, man!
How many times had he said just that during the days that followed his first shift, five years ago? He’d woken up shivering on the floor of his old apartment, covered in dried blood and vaguely aware that not all of it was his own. The kitchen looked like a sledgehammer had gone to work on it—that or a wild animal, crazed and caged. Wallpaper hung in great shreds, fluttering in the breeze stealing in from a shattered window. He’d stalked back there after his wolf had tired of its first rampage. Was it a deer he had torn apart in the madness of that first shift, or a man?
He’d made for the open road after that, leaving his job and his home and the couple of acquaintances he sometimes called friends, and tried drinking the wolf out of his system for a time. Nearly had the animal drowned in alcohol when Tina found him slumped in a back alley and leaned over him with a quiet tsk, tsk. What are we going to do with you, wolf?
He had no such question now, though. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with this she-wolf. Like keep her safe. Keep her close. Make her his.
Another minute spent wrapped around her and he might just give in to that urge. But she was shoving away from him again, and the regret was back.
