Opening the door, Trent took a step back, knowing that if anyone took a swing at him, he didn’t want to be close enough to be hit. Yet, as the doors swung open, there was nothing to see but fallen boxes. He listened for a moment, and then used his other senses, scenting the air.
Something tickled his nostrils. It connected with his cock, which had gone impossibly hard, not much help in a fight, he thought ironically. But the scent awoke more than his cock; it made his bear pace up and down in his mind. A strong suspicion was starting to fill Trent, one that he didn’t want to contemplate. His mate was close.
Allowing the doors to open right up, he went up close to the container, peering into the gloom. Under a pile of boxes, he could see what looked like hair spilling out across the floor. Black hair, dark as a moonless night. He swallowed down his panic. What if this was his mate and she was dead?
How could he live knowing his mate had passed from this world without him ever meeting her?
Trent pulled himself together, hoisting himself up into the container and going straight to her side. He pushed the boxes off her: they weren’t heavy, they shouldn’t have hurt her. However, she was out cold and there was fresh blood on her forehead; she must have hit her head on the floor when the boxes fell.
Lifting her, he felt her cold hands brush his, sparking electricity across his skin. Trent knew he had to get her out of here, had to get her somewhere warm. That meant moving her to the cab of his truck. There was a place behind the seats that could be used as a bed. In there, he could lay her down and use his body heat to take the chill from her. It was dangerous; any delay in him continuing his journey meant the snow piling up against the wheels. They would be stranded out here on the mountain, but he had to take the risk, or else lose her to the cold and shock of her fall.
Chapter Four – Willow
Her head hurt. However, the rest of her felt, well, kind of wonderful. She nestled back against the warm comforter, which was tightly wrapped around her. This was the first time she had felt this safe since … well, it seemed forever.
Behind her, the comforter moved, something hard pressing into her back.
Her eyes flew open. Comforters do not move. The last few minutes before she went unconscious came back to her. The dark, the truck stopping suddenly, and the boxes falling on her, making her lose her balance and end up on the floor. She remembered the pain, and touched her head, which had a bandage on it. A small one, like the kind you find in a first-aid kit. She had been found.
“How do you feel?” a deep, extremely male voice asked her. Her comforter was a man!
“What? What are you doing?” she asked, trying to slide away from him, but there was no room in the tight space. “Where are we?”
“You are in my truck.” He kept his voice low and soothing, but she wasn’t fooled.
“I want to get out.”
“You can’t.”
“Why? Am I your hostage?”
He chuckled, a low sound that sent shivers down her spine and ignited a heat within her that threatened to chase the last remnants of chill from her body. “I think you may be overreacting a little. You are not my hostage, and if you really want to leave, be my guest.”
He looked at her, amused. Damn he was disturbing to her, like a spider trying to lure her into his web of comfort and warmth. But despite her body’s need to be held by him and … well, other things, she couldn’t stay. She got up, noticing she was no longer wearing her coat. And where was her pack?
“My things?” she asked. “What have you done with my belongings?”
“They are on the seat, down there.” He pointed, and then he rested his head on his hand, watching her lazily.
For a moment she hesitated, wondering how she was supposed to get down from here. They were behind the seats of the truck, tucked up nice and cosy in his cab. It all came flooding back to her. The strange sensations she had felt when the truck had begun to move. The closer she got to the front of the truck, the stronger it had become.
Willow had put it down to motion sickness, but she had never experienced that in her whole life. She thought it was because she had never travelled in the back of a truck before, or maybe because she was so hungry. Yet even when she had found a box filled with popcorn, and eaten two packs, she had not felt better. And now? Well now, she felt much worse.
Had he drugged her? Given her some kind of love potion? Because her body seemed completely attuned to his. What was wrong with her? As if her life wasn’t strange enough, she didn’t need a man to complicate it any more.
Right. One leg over, and then she sort of fell onto the seat, sprawling forward and nearly hitting her head again. The world spun around and her head thumped in pain, as if the blood was trying to force its way out of her temples. Swallowing down her nausea, she pulled on her coat, noting that there were blinds down over the cab windows, shielding them from prying eyes. Only the soft glow from a light above his head illuminated the small space of the cab.
Romantic. She pushed that from her head. He wouldn’t want her anyway, and she didn’t need him in her life. He was a stranger and it was best, for both of them, if things stayed that way. But he wasn’t a stranger, not to her body; it was as if they had known each other forever. Even now as she was trying to leave him, a part of her was being pulled back to him. It was if he had wrapped a rope around her soul and was holding onto it tightly.
Tearing herself away, she grabbed her pack and opened the door of the truck, right into a snowdrift. Before she could think to save herself, her body was falling out of the door, as the wind took it from her hands. Floundering, feeling the biting cold taking hold of her, she was suddenly aware of his big body hovering over her. His large warm hands grabbed her coat and he hauled her back onto the seat of the truck.
“Whoa, I didn’t think you would actually try to leave.”
“The door…” she said breathlessly.
He wrapped his strong arms around her, rubbing her skin as she shivered and tried to regain her body heat. She lay back, wanting him to comfort her; yet he scared her. More than anyone ever had, and that was saying something. When her mutation had first appeared, her then-boyfriend, Ollie, had witnessed it. He called her a freak, told his friends and they had hounded her all over town. She tried to convince them he was on drugs that night, and she hadn’t suddenly just sprouted a tail. But she had.
She was arguing with Ollie over something stupid. But he had made her so mad, and somehow the air around her seemed to change, the world looking different. Then a strange sensation took over her and she had felt different. Off balance.
Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen the end of a black tail twitching in rage. She wanted to scream, but nothing had come out. And then Ollie had seen it and shouted at her, telling her she was a freak. The tail had disappeared, but she had been unable to persuade herself, or him, it wasn’t real.
Eventually, she had run. Mainly because one day two weeks later, when he had sent her another one of his “freak” messages, she had got so upset she had changed completely. Into a panther. A panther.
She drew herself away from the warmth of the man whom she was stranded with. “What happens now?” she asked.
“We wait out the storm.”
“Here?” She cast another glance around the small cab.
“It’s warm; we have a little food and water. So this is our best bet.” He watched as she tried to conceal her growing panic. “I won’t hurt you.”
She smiled at him weakly, not quite managing to ask, “But what if I hurt you?” And that was what worried her. What would happen if she turned into a panther in here and attacked him? She didn’t seem to have any control over it. If she got mad, it just happened.
“Look, I don’t know how you ended up in the back of my truck. But I think it might be a good idea to at least introduce ourselves. I’m Trent.” He held out his hand for her to shake, his eyes fixed on her face.
She had to try to be friendly, and then she wo
uld feign exhaustion. That would allow her to lie down and not talk to him. That was her best option, really. Pretend to be asleep for the remainder of the time they were trapped in here. She slipped her hand into his. “Willow.”
Instantly their bodies recognised each other on a molecular level. Her heart rate increased and her breathing became almost laboured, as she fought for control. She needed to pull away from him, to break the contact, but he held her fast. He was experiencing it too. Whatever it was she felt, he felt it too. His eyes dilated but they never left hers. Mesmerised, she saw him flick out his tongue to moisten his lips, as if preparing to taste something sweet. She realised he wanted to kiss her. Panic filled her and she dragged her hand from his.
“I’m tired,” she blurted out.
“Then you should lie down and sleep, Willow.” She heard the way he savoured her name on his lips. Heat grew in her body, she wanted to lie down and do more than sleep with this man. She wanted those hands of his to spread electricity all through her body. Especially inside her. Deep inside her.
She made to move, waiting for him to reach out and grab her, pull her to him. She was sure he wanted her, too. But he let her pass. This time she managed to climb up over the back of the seats with ease. Yet she felt his eyes on her round bottom, and knew what he was thinking, because she was thinking it too.
How easy it would be to ask him to lie with her, to touch her. But she was trouble and he seemed like a nice guy. And with his good looks and impressive body, he probably had a good-looking woman at home waiting for him. A woman who didn’t turn into a beast with teeth and claws.
Lying in the semi-darkness, she watched him climb into the driver’s seat. For a long while she didn’t close her eyes; she simply watched him. The way his dark hair curled at his collar, the rise and fall of his chest, not realising that soon her breathing matched his, as did her heart, beat for beat. Slowly, feeling safe, believing he was no risk to her, she let herself drift off to sleep.
Chapter Five – Trent
She wasn’t like him. He could tell that straight off. However, she was attuned to him, she knew there was a connection between them, but she was hiding something from him. Well, that was fine, he could be patient. Couldn’t he?
It wasn’t easy, he wanted to climb up there right beside her and strip those clothes from her body. Then he would start at her feet and kiss every inch of her body until she begged him to fuck her. And damn, did he want to fuck her. Slow and long, hard and fast. Now that would be quite some way to weather out a storm.
Yet she needed time. Something Trent wasn’t normally interested in giving a woman. If a woman didn’t want him at first glance, then he moved on. There were always plenty more waiting to slip into his bed. But Willow? She was different. He could be patient, because they had the rest of their lives to share. Eventually, she would be in his bed; he only wished it could be sooner. Like before the storm abated. Screwing her here in his cab, now that would be a memory to carry with him each time he went on a drop.
Sitting here in his seat, he could feel her eyes on him. He wanted to ask her why she watched him: Because she didn’t trust him? Or because, like him, she couldn’t bear to tear her eyes away from him? He glanced at the window once more, she didn’t realise that he could see her reflection. It was no more than a sliver, from the big side mirror outside; it was angled just right to watch her. No, she didn’t need to know that.
When her breathing changed, he knew she was asleep; he turned in his seat and took a good look at her. Jet-black hair, with the palest of skin, her long dark lashes such a contrast as they fanned out over it, flickering slightly as she dreamed. He longed to reach into her head and see what she saw. Did she dream of him? Or did she dream about being a bear?
He took in a big breath of air, letting her scent wash over him. She wasn’t a bear, he was sure of it. Not a wolf either. She was too sweet. He closed his eyes, picturing her face, feminine and round, green eyes, bright like spring leaves. Her colouring was striking. And she was his.
Trent climbed up behind her, his body tired from the extra adrenaline that had been pumping through his veins since he had found her. A mixture of a strong desire to protect her and a need to claim her had left him nearly exhausted. The latter need was the one he was struggling to control, his cock still hard, still frustrated in his pants. But she was asleep now, and he wouldn’t disturb her. However, he could allow himself to relax and enjoy the feel of her next to him.
He knew she might be mad to wake up in his arms again, but frankly, at this moment, he didn’t care. She was his, and while he did not intend to press her for sex, the need to be next to her overtook the rest of his good nature. She owed him an explanation; he also persuaded himself that only by lying by her side could he make sure she didn’t try to run again.
Although he knew she wasn’t that stupid. But it gave him enough of an excuse, so that when his arm draped over her body, stroking her stomach and itching to go much lower, he managed to appease his conscience.
Chapter Six – Willow
She woke some hours later, certain it was daytime; the light outside the cab had changed. For a time she simply lay still, he was near her again. She didn’t think he was awake, but if he was, she didn’t want to disturb the peace and serenity that rested over them.
During this time, she went over what her options were. Stay with him, or run. Or maybe ask him for a ride to civilisation of some kind. Anywhere where she could start again. Where no one knew her freakish secret. Perhaps he knew someone who would sell her some fake ID, then she could really disappear. Only she had no money.
Willow let out a long sigh. How had things become so complicated? Raised as an ordinary girl, with ordinary parents, she had been the kind of child who was invisible. Not enough or cute enough to make people look at her twice. Until she had started to behave differently to the other girls her age. Subtle things at first, like her love of stalking other kids in the long grass as a child. Although it was her pouncing on them rather than the stalking that drew unwanted attention.
Then in her teenage years, things had spun a little out of control. Her parents’ love had almost evaporated, replaced by a resignation that their strange daughter would never fit in. However, things had come to a terrible conclusion when she got into a catfight with another girl. It wasn’t her fault: a group of girls had called her a freak, stolen her bag and her phone. Willow just wanted them back, and one girl had set on her, pulling her hair. She had to fight back, knowing it would never end unless she stuck up for herself.
It was the end of her relationship with her parents; they had broken the news to her that she was adopted. A shock at first, Willow had then begun to fit together all the ways she was different from them, and there were so many ways. Ranging from their looks, to their interests, and to their very natures. How could she have ever thought she belonged to them?
In some ways, the news made things easier and she had left her childhood home. She had dreamt of running into her real parents, hoping that they had been searching for her, to explain who she was, what she was. A little like a fairy tale. But that had never happened, and then she had found out just how different she was.
Willow still held onto the hope there someone out there knew what had happened to her. Someone who even shared the same genes as her. Because this had to be a genetic mutation, right?
In her pocket, her phone vibrated against her hip. It made her jump; she thought it was long dead, or at least there would be no reception here. Reluctantly, knowing she should ignore it, but unable to, she drew it from her pocket.
It was from Ollie. Of course it was. It simply said, “Watch your back. I’m hunting you, freak.”
A sob erupted from her before she could stop it. Trent moved behind her, his hand tightening around her. She tried to shuffle forward, moving away from him, but he pulled her back against him.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his breath soft against her ear, sending tremors of desire through
her body, to mix with her despair.
“Nothing,” she said, but he pulled her back against him, and she knew he wasn’t going to let this go. “It’s just a text. It’s stupid.”
“Show me.” His voice was a command.
“No,” she said firmly, refusing to let another man bully her. But more than anything, she didn’t want to have to explain everything to him. Because to tell him the truth was impossible, and she was fed up of telling lies.
“I want to help you. I know you are running from something.”
“You can’t help me.”
“No, I can’t,” he said, stroking her skin, as if she were a cat that needed calming. “Not if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”
“I can’t tell you.” She pulled away from him, but there was nowhere to go. Not unless she went outside, and that was too risky. She had no idea where she was, and even if she did, the snow was probably deep enough that she would just disappear into it. Maybe that was for the best.
“Willow. I want to help you.” He hesitated and she could feel him searching for the right words to say. “I believe you ended up in the back of my truck for a reason.”
She looked at him, trying to read his expression. Did he feel what she felt? Was it possible that he was the same as her? That he could understand her. She shook her head. “That’s nonsense. I ended up in your truck because it was the only vehicle at the gas station.
“And you don’t think it could be anything other than a coincidence? You don’t think that fate put me there, right when you needed me?” His voice was so mesmerising, she wanted to believe him, to believe that everything that had happened was for a reason, not just to ruin her life.
“I don’t believe in fate.” Her words were flat. It was the truth; she couldn’t simply believe that a tail had spontaneously appeared out of her ass so Ollie would hound her out of town, just so she could come here and meet Trent.
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