After Twilight

by Amanda Ashley, Christine Feehan

  "But getting close is my job." She scraped the remains of her plate back into the skillet, gathered her dishes, and moved off toward a stream beside her campsite. Rick went after her.

  "I'm serious," he insisted. Now that the moon's cycle had ended, he didn't have to worry about stumbling from a den naked come daylight and being caught on film in the process. But he knew for a fact that there were pups in the dens, and the animals would be protective.

  "I'll be careful," she assured him, bending next to the stream to wash her dishes.

  Rick bent beside her. "like you were the other night? You've already been bitten once—"

  "No, that was a mistake," she interrupted. "I only thought the animal bit me. And I plan to be more careful from here on out. Don't you have something to do besides bother me?"

  He leaned in, smelling her hair. He loved her scent. "Am I bothering you?"

  When she turned her head, they were eye to eye. Her gaze lowered to his mouth. "Yes," she answered.

  She bothered him, too. And in a big way. He had visited her campsite with the intention of scaring her off, but now, she had to stay. Now he had to keep a close eye on her and, at the same time, keep his raging hormones at bay. Not an easy task for a werewolf.

  Backing off when she sat so close, her eyes still locked with his, took a great amount of willpower. She glanced away, gathered her dishes, and stood up.

  "Good-bye, Dr. Donavon."

  He rose, watching the sway of her hips as she walked away. The sunshine bounced off her hair. She stopped, and he waited for her to turn and say something else to him. When she continued to stand perfectly still, he moved up behind her. Blocking the path to her campsite stood a large gray wolf. The animal curled back its lips and growled.

  Chapter Four

  Stephanie's heart was in her throat. The wolf wasn't the same one that had crept into her tent the night before, and he wasn't as large, but he looked as if he could hurt someone if the mood struck him.

  "Stand very still."

  The warmth of Rick's breath brushed her ear. She hadn't heard him approach. He stepped around her, shielding her body with his. The wolf immediately ceased his growling. Stephanie raised herself on tiptoes to look over Rick's shoulder. It appeared to her as if the wolf and the country vet were having a stare-down. When the animal finally whimpered and scurried off, she breathed a sigh of relief.

  "How did you do that?"

  He turned around, and for a moment, she thought his eyes were glowing. He blinked, and they appeared normal again.

  "Do what?"

  "S-scare him off that way?" she stammered. "It was almost as if he recognized you as the Alpha male."

  "He did recognize me. The wolves are used to seeing me in these woods. You're the one they consider an intruder."

  She supposed he had a point. "I guess I need to stay on my guard. These particular wolves seem to be more aggressive than the ones I've studied in the past."

  "I told you why," he reminded. "They have pups, or females in the pack getting ready to whelp. They'll be more protective of their territory than usual. Maybe you should stay in town."

  Stephanie laughed off his suggestion. "I don't remember seeing a hotel when I passed through yesterday, and I can't very well research wildlife from town. I'll be fine."

  They stood there for a moment, the silence between them awkward. She felt the heat rolling off his body, thought she even heard his heart beating. The longer he stared at her, the more uncomfortable she became. But she couldn't look away. It seemed he held some strange power over her. Even though the morning chill had faded, goose bumps rose on her arms.

  A vision flashed through her mind. Cool sheets and sweat-soaked skin. Seeking mouths and roaming hands. Pleasure so intense it forced a soft moan from her lips. Rick blinked, and the spell was broken.

  He turned and walked away, leaving her shaken and unsure of what had just happened between them. She watched him move through the trees. Shapes crept from the shadows to follow him. Wolves. Stephanie shuddered and returned to her campsite. She lifted her jacket from the stump where it lay draped, spotted the thermos, and sighed irritably.

  He'd forgotten to take it with him, which meant he'd be back, or that she would have to return the item. She had work to do, and he'd already proven to be too much of a distraction. He had said he would try to dissuade the hunters, however, and she would rather gather her research information without getting the authorities involved.

  Stephanie picked up the coffee and poured herself a fresh cup. She would not use the thermos as an excuse to visit the handsome country vet. In fact, she didn't plan on giving him another thought for the rest of the day.

  She recalled her strong reaction to him earlier, the visions that had flashed through her mind. She remembered her momentary belief that his eyes had been glowing. It seemed ridiculous to her now. The sun must have reflected in his gaze a certain way. Rick Donavon was very handsome, maybe a little strange, but he wasn't some kind of monster.

  Rick slept for two days straight. He stood at the kitchen sink; splashed cold water on his face, then stuck a glass beneath the faucet. He'd dreamed of the woman again. Hot, forbidden dreams. A monster such as himself had no right even to dream about her. She seemed innocent to him, and he was cursed. His fingers tightened around the glass he held.

  The irresistible Miss Shane was only a reminder of all that been lost to him. Maybe this was his punishment for the life he'd lived when he'd been normal. He'd never had time for anyone else, not even a wife. His own desires and needs had always come first.

  Women had called him a loner, and much worse. He used them for pleasure, had given pleasure in return, but he'd never given his heart.

  It was ironic, all the things he'd taken for granted—companionship, a woman to share his life, bear his children, love him for better or for worse—would never be his. Not now. He laughed harshly, then hurled the glass at the wall. It shattered, just as his life had shattered three years ago.

  Rick walked to the mess and bent. He lifted a piece of glass, allowing the sharp edge to slice his finger open. Blood seeped from the cut. He stuck the injured finger into his mouth. By morning, the cut would heal itself. Just like the bullet wound he'd taken in his leg. There was only one way to kill him, or so he'd read. A wound to the head, or to the heart. Those were the only organs that couldn't heal themselves.

  Ripping open his shirt, he held the glass to his chest. If he plunged it in deep enough, he could end the nightmare, here, now, today. He'd been raised to believe that taking one's life was the greatest sin. That doing so would condemn his soul to eternal hell. Hell was the reason he hadn't done it before now. Hell had become a familiar place to him, and Rick longed for peace and salvation.

  If someone else did the job for him, it couldn't be counted against his soul. Thanks to Stephanie, he probably couldn't rely on the hunters to handle the task. In all good conscience, he couldn't plunge the glass deep into his chest, as he wanted to do. Not yet. He had to stick around long enough to be certain she hadn't been bitten. Rick had also promised to speak to the sheriff on her behalf—ask him and the hunters to give her free rein to study the wolves.

  A knock on his door made him jump. He threw the glass shard on the floor and rose. Rick was surprised to see the woman who'd been occupying his thoughts standing on the porch. She shoved his thermos at him.

  "You forgot this the other day," she said.

  "I would have been back for it," he assured her.

  "I know. That's why I decided to return it."

  He smiled. "Would you like some more?"

  Her gaze lowered to his mouth. "More?"

  "Coffee," he specified.

  "No, thank you."

  When she continued to stand there, he asked, "Would you like to come inside?"

  She moistened her lips with her tongue. "No, I should probably get going."

  Yes, she should leave, Rick thought. But no amount of reasoning seemed to work when she stood
within touching distance. He was painfully aware of her. Her gaze lowered to his open shirt. She sucked in her breath and reached out.

  "You're bleeding."

  The feel of her fingers on his skin nearly drove him wild. He fought the urge to yank her inside the cabin and into his arms. "I broke a glass in the kitchen. It's just a scratch."

  "It looks fairly deep." She pushed past him. "We should get that cleaned up and see if you need stitches."

  Rick followed her inside. He smiled and closed the door behind him. "You should be more careful," he called.

  Stephanie turned, raising a brow.

  "The glass," he reminded her. "Watch where you step. It could slice through your shoes."

  She nodded and hurried into the kitchen. Rick pushed away from the door. He moved toward the kitchen, realized his actions were furtive like those of a stalking animal, and approached more directly. Stephanie already held a paper towel under the faucet.

  "Come here," she ordered.

  Like a well-trained dog, he obeyed. She squeezed water from the paper towel and turned toward him, wiping the blood from his chest. Her knock on the door had startled him. His hand must have slipped. Her scent curled around him. He'd thought she smelled good the other day, but her fragrance seemed stronger to him now. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

  "I don't think you need stitches," she said. "But you'll have a nasty scratch for a while."

  It would be gone by tomorrow. He felt the flesh already healing, just as the cut on his thumb would also disappear.

  "Be sure you keep it clean so it doesn't get infected."

  Rick opened his eyes and glanced down. Her features were perfect. Small oval face, high cheekbones, delicate nose, inviting lips. "I do know a little about that," he said dryly.

  Her cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink. "Of course you do. Sorry, I forgot for a moment." Her brow furrowed. "Why aren't there any animals in the pens outside?"

  He shrugged and walked away. "The wolves are doing a good job of separating the weak from the strong. Mostly all I get is sheep." Rick grabbed a broom and a dustpan. "A sick calf once in a while. I only practice on large animals. I prefer to make house calls rather than have owners leave animals here."

  "Because they wouldn't be safe," she said.

  He didn't look at her. "Exactly."

  She walked over and took the dustpan from his hand. "Too many wolves roaming this area."

  "Right," he agreed, his tone dry.

  Stephanie bent, holding the dustpan while he swept up the broken glass. He would have preferred that she take the broom. Having a beautiful woman kneeling before him didn't help his raging hormones. Once he'd swept all the broken glass into the dustpan, Stephanie rose.

  "Where's your trash?"

  He nodded toward the sink. "Cabinet under the sink."

  Replacing the broom, he watched her open the cabinet door and empty the dustpan. His gaze roamed her backside. Her natural instincts were not very good, he decided, or she'd sense what he was thinking and make a hasty retreat. Instead, she straightened, walked back toward him, and held out the dustpan. He replaced it beside the broom.

  "I'd wear shoes in here for a few days," she mumbled. "We might have missed some of the smaller pieces."

  "I'll be careful," he assured her, wishing cuts and scrapes were something he had to worry about. That would mean he was normal.

  She glanced around. "I'll just wash my hands and be on my way."

  Rick didn't want her to go, but he really didn't want her to stay, either. His attraction to her became stronger every second she remained. For his sake as well as hers, parting company would be for the best.

  Even as he told himself that, he moved up behind her while she washed her hands.

  She smelled of wildflowers and sunshine. That, and something else. Some unidentifiable scent he couldn't resist. She turned and nearly bumped into him.

  "W-were you sniffing me?" she stammered.

  "I like your shampoo."

  He should step back and let her pass, but Rick's feet felt glued to the floor. He kept staring into her eyes, thinking how green they were. His gaze lowered to her neck. He'd tasted her there. But he couldn't recall if he'd been a man or an animal when he'd done so. Her hand crept up, pulled her collar closer around her neck.

  "Why do I get the feeling when I'm around you that you'd like to gobble me up like a snack?"

  He smiled. "I'd never rush anything with you. I'd eat you nice and slow. Savor you."

  Her mouth trembled slightly. She pushed past him. "That reminds me. I'm starving. I thought I'd try the cafe in town for lunch."

  Berating himself for what he'd just said, Rick took off after her. "Can you give me a ride?"

  She didn't answer until she'd opened the door and placed herself safely upon the porch. "Don't you have a vehicle?"

  Rick nodded. "I have a truck, but it's not running at the moment. I haven't had time to work on it. I thought I should speak to the sheriff about what we discussed."

  "I planned on shopping. I need more film and a few other items."

  The pretty wildlife photographer felt uncomfortable with him. That was obvious. Rick couldn't blame her. He shouldn't have made that crack. But it had been the truth. He would savor her. Every inch of her. "I'll go another time."

  Stephanie started to turn away, stopped, and sighed. "You should speak to the sheriff as soon as possible. I would do it myself, but he'd probably listen to you before he would a stranger. I'll get my Jeep and come back for you." She looked him up and down, then grinned. "You are going to change that shirt, right? In case you haven't noticed, the buttons are missing."

  He grinned back. "Any other instructions?"

  She cocked her head to the side and studied him. "A haircut wouldn't hurt," she said, then turned and walked away.

  He watched her walk down the steps and toward the trees, still smiling to himself over her instructions. They sounded so ordinary. Like something a woman would say to a normal flesh-and-blood man. Like something a wife might say to her husband.

  His smile faded. He was not ordinary. And she should never become too comfortable in his company. Wild animals couldn't be trusted. They turned on people.

  Chapter Five

  Stephanie had wondered what type of reception she'd get from the townspeople. It was a chilly one at best. The cafe looked like something out of a black-and-white movie. Even the people inside appeared as if they'd stepped from the screen of an old Twilight Zone episode. The waitress still wore her hair in beehive fashion. Her name was Betty, and she nearly melted on the spot when she caught sight of Rick, but frosted up when she realized he wasn't alone.

  "So what will you have, miss?" she asked, without looking at Stephanie and drooling over Rick.

  "What's good?" Stephanie asked.

  "The lamb chops are always fresh."

  With a shudder, Stephanie studied the menu again. "I'll have a salad."

  Betty's gaze finally swung toward her. She snorted. "Figures." She turned a stunning smile on Rick. "No wonder she doesn't have any meat on her bones."

  He smiled back. "Miss Shane doesn't eat meat. She's a vegetarian."

  The waitress lifted a brow, snorted again, then asked, "Will you have your usual?"

  "Burger and fries. You know me. I'm a meat and potatoes man."

  "Rare?" Betty asked.

  "The redder the better," he answered.

  Stephanie's stomach rolled. She didn't know if it was due to the bloody meat reference or a result of the way Betty kept eyeballing Rick. It shouldn't have surprised her. He was a handsome single man in a town where probably few could be found. She imagined he could have his pick of the single women. Maybe even the married ones. The waitress took their menus and sashayed off, her ample hips swinging.

  "Why is everyone staring at me?" Stephanie asked through tight lips.

  Rick glanced around. "They're just curious. We don't get many strangers here." His gaze swung back to her. "I'm cur
ious, too. Tell me about yourself."

  Stephanie wasn't comfortable discussing her past with anyone, much less a man she didn't know. She shrugged. "Not much to tell."

  "Why aren't you married?"

  "Why aren't you?" she countered.

  He smiled, and she tried not to melt. "Never got around to it. I used to travel a lot."

  "You said used to. Don't you enjoy traveling?"

  Rick tugged at his shirt collar and shifted against his seat. "No. I've become a homebody of sorts."

  "I love to travel," Stephanie admitted. "It's one of the things I like most about my job. That and being outdoors."

  "And the animals," he added. "You do like animals, don't you?"

  She laughed. "Of course I like animals. I'm naturally suspicious of anyone who doesn't."

  "And you like wolves in particular?"

  His line of questioning seemed strange to her. "Yes," she answered. "Wolves in particular."

  Lifting a salt shaker to examine, he continued, "Why wolves in particular?"

  Stephanie had never given her attraction to the species much thought. "I suppose because they're beautiful. And they have values. The pack is like a family. They love and protect one another."

  "What about your family?"

  He'd hit upon a sore subject. It had been three years since her father's death, and she still felt an empty place inside. "My parents were in a car accident. My mother was killed instantly. Dad held on for another year, but he was in bad shape. An invalid." She lowered her gaze because she felt the tears gathering. "I don't think he even knew who I was in the end."

  The gentle touch of his hand startled her. "I'm sorry for your loss."

  His touch felt comforting; his expression held sincerity. Stephanie managed to get her emotions under control. "What about you? Are your parents still living?"

  "Yes," he answered.

  "Do you see them much?"