by Bonnie Vanak
The bay head wasn’t much higher than the water, but she spotted a narrow path cut through the thick brush. Coco plum, red bay and wax myrtle flanked the path. Ferns tickled her nose as she ducked and twisted beneath the overgrowth. In the distance, an airboat droned. Broken branches scraped her hands.
She waded through a shallow stream and climbed up to a small clearing. Someone had cut back the brush to create a living space. Dead leaves and dried branches littered the ground. She settled on the ground against a grayish-brown coco plum tree. Thin sunlight filtered through its sheltering branches and glossy, elliptical-shaped leaves.
Tension eased as she settled Misha on her lap. This felt right, somehow. Maggie pushed aside the niggling thoughts that she belonged here, in the wild.
Nicolas would find her.
But dammit, not before she healed her dog. If today she died, Misha would live. Her pet came first. Misha was her only friend. She had the ability to heal her. She’d use it.
Palms trembling, she stretched them over her dying dog, willing herself to begin the healing process.
———
Bare-chested, clad only in sneakers and jeans, Nicolas waited for a line of cars to pass. He shook his head as he cleared the drug from his system. Should have known. He’d felt it radiating from her, seen it in her jumping pulse, her hitched breathing. He’d been too damn busy paying attention to his dick to give credence to the signals she put out.
He must arouse the ancient instincts inside her to listen to him and obey. He was pack, accustomed to doling out orders in the group, not herding a lone wolf like Maggie who thought she was human. Nicolas, the pack’s fiercest warrior. Nicolas, the one who didn’t dare let anyone grow close.
No one ever made him feel this way before. Spinning out of control. Helpless. Aching at her pain, even before he mated with her, and knew all her emotions.
Doubts railed at him. If Maggie made him feel this susceptible, what would happen once he exchanged powers? He pushed aside the thought, concentrated on his mate.
Her focus was centered on the dog.
One action could remind her of her origins. Too risky here, yet if she healed Misha, it didn’t matter. The spectral trail her magick kicked up would attract the Morphs far more than his change would. He shoved back a hank of hair as the line of cars finally passed. Nicolas bolted across the road.
He had to do it when she could see him, and hope she’d finally understand.
As he picked up her scent, the thought dimly occurred to him that he’d forgotten to check the car for the source of that tiny mosquitolike whine.
Chapter 7
Nicolas whispered into her mind, murmuring soothing assurances.
Maggie ignored his husky voice baiting her. She closed her eyes to everything around her, the distant call of wading birds, the snort of an alligator moving through the undergrowth. Nothing else mattered except healing her beloved companion.
Images of a whole, healthy Misha ran through her mind. Blackened, dying cells shifting into her own body replaced by healthy cells. Maggie drew in a deep breath and concentrated.
Stabbing pain as fierce as white-hot knives slammed into her. Her hands jerked off the dog. A reflex scream of agony ripped from her lips. Sweat streamed down her temple. In her lap, Misha whimpered and twisted.
Her pet had hidden her agony well.
Tears dripped down her cheeks. Taking on that pain again was like dipping her toes into white-hot lava.
“I’m sorry, baby.” Maggie buried her face into her dog’s fur. “I just can’t. I can’t.”
Misha whined. Maggie felt her slip further away. The brief, intimate contact had warned her the disease was gaining rapidly. The window of life was slowly closing.
A familiar scent invaded her nostrils. Misha weakly barked a greeting. Nicolas. He’d found her. Maggie bent her head, whispered to stay quiet. But as if scenting a friend, Misha lifted her head and wagged her tail. Maggie knew exactly how much energy that movement cost.
His sneakers sloshed through the stream separating her hiding place from land. For someone with quiet stealth, he made plenty of noise.
The sharp edge of his profile, the straight nose, chiseled chin, came into her sight as she remained motionless. Wind whistled through the leafy covering of branches. Nicolas approached and squatted down, studying her with an intense look. He held out a strong palm.
“Maggie. Come with me. Don’t be afraid. Please. I promise, I won’t hurt you.”
The soothing cadence of his deep voice nearly lulled her into compliance. Maggie pressed against the tree, ignoring the screaming instincts to obey him. Trust him. Mold herself to him, bond with him as they coupled…
Concern lined his features. He studied Misha. “You tried healing her, didn’t you? And it was too much pain. Come with me. I’ll take you both to a safe place where you can try again.”
Something dark and haunting touched his eyes. “I know what it’s like to watch a good friend slowly die and feel all alone. It’s the worst feeling in the world. I don’t want it to happen to you, caira. Reach out with your feelings, not your mind, and trust me.”
For the first time, Maggie opened herself to instinct. It gushed in a tidal wave, washing away sense, logic and reason. She wanted to close the distance between herself and Nicolas. It felt right, as if he were someone she knew in her blood and bones even if they had only met…
Her breath came in sharp, jerky rasps. Yes, this did feel familiar. Why? It made no sense.
“You can’t protect me, or Misha,” she whispered. “And there is no such thing as magic.”
“You’re very wrong, Maggie. There is magick in the healing power of your touch, and there is magick in me. I’ll show you.”
Nicolas stepped back, kicked off his shoes, shed his socks and jeans. Naked, he raised his arms. She watched in astonishment as his body seemed to ripple with power.
One minute, a naked man stood there.
The next, a muscled, large gray wolf had replaced the man.
Panic raced up her spine. No, no, no. Not possible. A little moan fled her lips. Then the wolf turned its head to look at her. It began gracefully loping toward her.
A hysterical scream bubbled in her throat. She backed against the gnarled tree trunk, its roughness jabbing her back. The wolf broached the distance between them.
Immobilized with terror, Maggie sat utterly still. The wolf’s muzzle was banded with dark brown fur, the caramel gaze sharp and intelligent. It locked on her like a laser. Good God, it was massive, one hundred and fifty pounds, the jaws possessing crushing strength…
Her terrified gaze whipped back to Misha. The dog’s tail beat the air in a furious cadence. Her throat went dry with panic as the wolf slowly turned its massive head and stared at her dog. Setting Misha behind her, Maggie steeled herself.
“Good boy, good boy, it’s okay, just leave us alone, please, please,” she chanted in the soothing tone used when dealing with scared or angry animals.
Turning, the wolf locked its eyes on her. Then, to her astonished shock, it gave a small whimper. Her heart went still. The wolf dropped to all fours and crawled toward her submissively.
Wonder replaced fear. Dragging in a deep breath, she smelled an earthy animal smell—wolf and something lingering and familiar. Woodsy, deep pine forest. Nicolas’s scent.
It couldn’t be.
The wolf stopped a mere foot away. It sniffed her hand, then gave it a gentle lick. The tongue felt like velvet sandpaper, and warm against her quivering hand.
Emboldened, Maggie lifted her hand and touched the luxurious fur. The wolf whined again, and laid its head upon her lap. Deep inside, fear slipped out on four paws, replaced by long-forbidden memories. She stroked the wolf’s head, its fur soft and thick beneath her shaking fingers. No reason to fear. This was right.
No. It wasn’t. Made no sense.
She squeezed her eyes shut. When she opened them again, Nicolas lay on the loamy earth, her hand woven thr
ough his thick, silky hair. Eyes dark as obsidian stared up at her. He was naked.
Maggie gulped down a deep breath as he caught her hand in his warm strong palm.
“It’s true, Maggie. Everything I told you. But I knew you had to see for yourself. I am a Draicon, a wolf shape-shifter. My pack is in New Mexico, where I live. I came here to escort you there, because you belong with us, Maggie. With me. I’m your mate and that’s why you feel this pull toward me. It’s how I can delve into your thoughts, just as you can into mine if you try.
“You’re Draicon as well, a wolf and our pack’s missing empath. We’ve been searching for you a long, long time. And now the time has come for you to return to your rightful place, and your home. Long ago our people left our dimension to learn of the earth. We discovered how to manipulate the earth’s natural forces and energy. To learn to live in harmony with the earth, we shape-shifted into the form of wolves. Those creatures that pursued you—” his gaze flicked off to the west “—the Morphs, were once Draicon as well, but turned to evil to gain power. They kill for power, absorbing their victims’ energy as they die. They can be birds, alligators, any animal shape and can clone themselves into an army to track their prey. They infected Misha with a new disease they created to draw you out, and then kill you.”
He reached for his clothing and dressed. “Maggie, we have to leave. Please. Even if it’s too much for you to believe now, just believe this. You saw how those creatures were after Misha. Their only desire is to cause pain and fear, and gain power from it.”
Nicolas squatted down, held out his arms. “Come here, Misha. You’re tired, I can tell. Let me try something.”
From behind her, the dog weakly stumbled over to Nicolas. He picked her up, cradled her against his chest. Nicolas waved a hand. Iridescent sparks floated on the air. Awestruck, Maggie watched as he chanted odd words, moving his hand. Ancient memories surged. Her mother, chanting lyrical, soothing words when her father fell ill once….
Nicolas rested a gentle palm on Misha’s head. “I can’t heal, not like you, Maggie, but I issued a spell to take away the pain. It’s only temporary, but it will make her feel better.”
Misha stared up at Nicolas with trusting eyes. The heavy weight on Maggie’s chest lifted. There had to be something inherently good about a man who loved an animal enough to remove her pain. Maggie stood, dusting off her jeans.
Nicolas stood, holding out Misha. “No, you take her. I trust you with her,” she said.
Progress. Trust, the first step. Weaving the spell over Misha and his change had cost him much-needed energy, but seeing Maggie’s soft smile was worth it. Nicolas guided her back to the car. He folded Misha into Maggie’s arms. The dog slept, her breathing even. Misha was key to Maggie’s connection, her grasp on the immediate concern. Her gaze dropped to the dog. “I think she needs a little reassurance,” Nicolas murmured. As do you.
Maggie took Misha, rested her cheek against her pet. His supersensitive hearing noted her heart rate slow to a more normal rhythm, as he’d expected. Very gently, she set the dog on the blanket on the backseat. She turned to him. The relief on her face made his heart stand still.
They climbed into the front. Her hand rested over his. “Thank you.”
Hunger lashed him at the gentle pressure of her touch. Damn, this was much worse than before, weaving magick and paying the price. He didn’t want food to replace lost energy. Only Maggie, feeling her hand stroking his head, craving her body next to his.
Forgetting the danger pursuing them, he had only thoughts of her mouth against his. He reached over, braced his arms on either side of her and kissed her.
Nicolas angled his lips over hers and drank in her mouth. His lips were warm, demanding everything, leaving her nothing. The drugging kiss dragged her under a vortex of sudden heat as his tongue thrust past her lips and explored inside. Maggie sagged against the seat and fisted her hands in his T-shirt to pull him closer. He didn’t kiss with the consummate skill of a womanizer, but a man desperate only for her.
Her mouth opened wider. Maggie closed her eyes, their tongues tangling and dancing as he intensified the kiss. This wasn’t a “hello, let’s get to know each other.” More like their tongues and lips imitating the sex act.
That thought wasn’t hers.
Startled, she twisted away, but he made a strangled sound and cupped her cheeks, holding her still. “Relax, and just feel,” his sultry whisper feathered into her mouth.
He kissed her again, his rock-hard body pressed against her yielding one. Maggie felt the soft leather against her back, the plain cotton bra suddenly chafing at her too sensitive, aching nipples. She inhaled Nicolas, his essence, his spirit. A deep, visceral ache throbbed between her legs. Maggie squirmed, needing to satisfy that ache. A little moan fled as she tried to get closer.
Breathing heavily, Nicolas pulled back. He rested his forehead against hers a minute. His hand slid down her hip. Maggie bit back a moan, clutched his muscled forearms.
His fingers unhooked the button of her jeans. The soft purr of the zipper sliding downward filled her ears. Here, in the front seat, was not how she envisioned making love for the first time. But an unbearable heat infused her as if her very skin were on fire. Kicking off her shoes, Maggie raised her hips and wriggled free from the jeans.
“Take off your panties,” he murmured.
She stared at the taut, tanned flesh stretching over hard muscle, the dark hair feathering his deep chest. A line marched down his flat belly, dipping into the waistband of his jeans.
A low growl rumbled from his chest as she shimmied out of her panties and tossed them aside. Nicolas nuzzled her neck, his lips skimming over her throat. Maggie writhed, needing him closer. His hand stroked her cotton T-shirt, skimmed over one hip and then delved between her legs. He stroked gently, culling more moisture. She leaned into him as he slid a finger between her aching, hot female flesh. Sweet tension pulsed there. A little moan fled as she clutched his head as he slid lower, feathering kisses over her hot skin, his fingers caressing her below.
The sudden slam of a car door tore them apart like two strong hands. Maggie moaned in disappointed frustration as Nicolas drew back. Outside, a man walked away from a Saturn SUV with a fishing pole in hand.
“Damn,” Nicolas muttered, his dark eyes wild. “I forgot myself. Sorry.” He dragged in a deep breath. “I need energy. Food. It can’t wait. I need to hunt. These woods are filled with small game. Stay here. I’ll be back.”
Wild erotic need subsided into sheer bewilderment. “You can’t be serious. Nicolas, you make no sense. First you’re on the run from these things, then you want to make love to me and now you stop and say you have to hunt?”
“I’m a Draicon, as you are, Maggie. Every time I exercise magick or change, I have to replenish lost energy. Think of it as a long-distance runner needing calories for fuel. One way is to have sex and absorb your partner’s sexual energy. But not with you. Not now.”
His dark gaze stripped her to the bare skin. She shivered with delicious anticipation.
“The fastest way for me to absorb energy is to change and find small game to kill.”
Sensual anticipation faded, replaced by revulsion. “Kill small, defenseless animals?”
His jaw worked. “There’s not enough time to make love to you now, so I need to hunt. The knowledge will come back to you.”
The words caused a mass of confusion. “I’m not like you, Nicolas. I don’t know what you are, I don’t even know what I am yet…but I don’t kill. Ever.”
“You’ll learn.” He gave her a level look. “Don’t move until I return. Understand?”
He crossed the highway, muscles moving fluidly beneath the jeans. As she shrugged back into her clothing, Maggie felt rising tension mix with dread. In the backseat, Misha stirred restlessly. She lifted her head and scraped at the door.
The dog had to go outside. Maggie clipped on Misha’s leash and went outside with her. She thought about following Ni
colas. Bad idea. But…
Misha pulled at the leash, as if eager for a walk. Encouraged, Maggie tugged her toward the direction Nicolas went. In the same bay head where she’d found refuge, she found a pile of abandoned clothing. Nicolas’s scent was stamped all over it.
She heard a rustling noise, turned. A large gray wolf stood silently observing her. Its powerful body in animal form was equally muscled in human form. Dread filled her.
Nicolas.
The leash fell to the earth with a clunk. The wolf waded into the shallow stream, washed its muzzle and returned to the clothing. In an eye blink, the wolf vanished and Nicolas stood in its place. He dressed, wiped his mouth with the back of one hand.
“This is what I am, Maggie. What you are. We are wolf. We hunt, and kill. It’s the natural order. Just as we kill our enemies. You will learn to destroy them.”
Her stomach quivered. “I’m a vet, Nicolas. I heal, not hurt. I swore a vow long ago never to kill. I will not do this, Nicolas. I can’t kill Morphs. I’m not like you!”
His gaze softened. “You are one of us, Maggie. You’ll see. You can’t hide from what you truly are. Soon, you won’t be able to deny it, any more than you could prevent killing the Morphs back at your home to protect Misha.”
The implication of his words sank in. She had killed. Maggie struggled with her own confusion and fading conviction. She had killed without thought or rationale to save her dog.
“Draicon don’t kill for fulfillment, amusement or power, Maggie. We kill for food, or to protect our own, those whom we love. There is nothing wrong with defending those you love,” he said, running a finger along her cheek.
Suddenly he went still, his dark eyes searching. His entire body tensed. Maggie looked around and saw nothing. But a foul smell of rotting seaweed and sewage drifted to her nostrils. She’d smelled this back at her house. Her heart raced.
“Dammit, I knew I should have checked the SUV for intruders. Get behind me,” he ordered, pushing her to the side. “Take Misha, and if anything happens to me, drive to this place.” He issued directions as she stared in growing shock.
