He’d slowed down a little, and she could at least follow his outline moving ahead of her. It did seem to be easier walking.
“Not so much. The most I’ve ever experienced was an overgrown backyard as a kid.”
“You’ve never tracked?”
“I’ve never had to track anyone through the forest, no. Through the city, different story. Nothing can hide from me there.”
“Got it. I guess I never met a city shifter before. All my folk come from the wilderness.”
Gunner stopped suddenly, and she walked into his back. “What the hell?”
He held up a hand. “Quiet. The cabin’s just ahead.” His voice was low, just above a growl.
She stood motionless, every sense coming alive. Gunner was just as still, and she thought, given his body language, he was sniffing the air. A sour wave of fear ran through her and she tensed behind him. A long moment later, he spoke.
“It’s okay.” He stepped forward, his body relaxing. “There’s a trailhead not far down the hill, and sometimes hikers get lost and end up here. I’ve found them sleeping under the overhang on the downhill side. Might have been the scent I caught.”
“You’re sure? It’s not...”
“No. It’s human, not shifter. And days old.”
They walked down a short path through an open clearing. A small building stood, its outline visible against the night sky. She could smell now what must have alerted Gunner, the faintest of human scent, just one person.
“Wait here.” He moved away and she heard metal on metal, then the creak of a door opening. Yellow light spilled down the path, momentarily blinding her.
“Come on up.”
Gunner stood in the open doorway and she climbed the short flight of wooden steps, stepping past him. The cabin was small but clean and extremely neat. Nothing seemed out of place and there was no clutter to be seen. Claire wondered if there was a woman’s touch involved here but decided it was too spartan.
“Is this your cabin?” She set her duffel on the floor.
“It’s been in the family for a couple generations. There was a long-ago great-grandfather who grew up in the area, built this, and lived here till he died. It got passed down from father to son, until me.” Gunner dropped his eyes and rubbed a finger along the bridge of his nose.
“And you’re the last of the line?”
Gunner glanced up, giving her a rueful smile. “Yeah, sort of. I guess I’m what you call a lone wolf. Kind of funny, considering how much we’re supposed to be pack animals.”
Claire walked to the other side of the cabin, to a big window that, she supposed, during the day looked out over a meadow. Right now the dark glass reflected back her image: tangled hair, drawn face...and fear.
“Thanks for...well, thanks for this.” She turned, spreading her hands. The gesture felt inadequate somehow. He’d done far more than just give her a roof for the night. “I mean, you’re taking a big chance just being with me, much less grabbing me practically right out of Adrian’s hands.”
Gunner had taken up a position in the small kitchen, opening cabinets, wielding a can opener, and making noises that sounded like the possibility of dinner. In response, her stomach growled. Gunner cast her a sidelong look, one corner of his mouth lifting in a grin.
“You hungry? There’s nothing fresh, just canned goods. I’m not the best in the kitchen, but I can put something together.”
“Yeah, anything is fine, warm or not. I’m starving.”
He tipped his head toward another door down a short hall. “If you want to clean up...take a shower.”
“Yeah. I’m a little...windblown.” She grabbed her duffel.
His laugh followed her into the bathroom, cutting off as she closed the door. She cringed after a glance in the mirror. Her hair was a tangled mess, her face covered in a layer of road dust. Plus she smelled of sweat...and fear. Not the most alluring of scents.
Despite the small size, the bathroom had a large shower. The water was hot, and she stripped off her clothes and was under the shower in seconds, letting the water stream through her hair and over her shoulders. A bottle of generic shampoo and body wash rested on a shelf, and she used lavish amounts. Overcompensating, she thought, trying too hard to wash away the residue of Adrian more than the dust and grime from the road.
Before she completely used all the hot water, she reluctantly turned it off, dried, and put on a fresh set of clothes from her duffel.
There wasn’t much she could do with her hair, so she settled for a quick comb, then just let it hang down her back. It would revolt, rising up in a curly mess, but life on the run meant unruly hair.
“You’re just in time.” Gunner pointed to the table. “Have a seat. This is the best I could do.”
He set a plate in front of her. She blinked. “Tuna salad? It looks...and smells amazing.” She picked up a fork, took a tentative bite. And then dug in with serious intent.
“Oh my God...what the heck did you put in this?” She took another mouthful before he could answer.
Gunner sat across from her, shrugged, and took a mouthful of salad, chewing for a minute. “Just stuff from the cupboard...tuna, raisins, curry...it needs celery though. And real lime juice, not that stuff in the little plastic bottle that looks like a lime.”
“It’s so good.” She took another mouthful, closing her eyes as she chewed.
She caught the smile on his face. He looked more than a little embarrassed by her enthusiasm over the food. “I’m glad you like it.”
They ate in silence, Claire’s mind racing from the day’s events. Finally, she pushed her plate away and sat back, her hunger satisfied.
“Thanks for everything, Gunner.”
He smiled as she helped him clear the table, placing their dishes in the sink.
“Want some wine? I meant to have this with dinner, but...”
“Yeah. Wine would be good.” The cabin was small, not much for furniture, the only other real option the bed, and as inviting as it looked—and the promises it held—she wasn’t ready yet for that, so she stayed where she was at the table.
The low level hum inside, the hum that began at the diner what seemed like an eternity ago, started up again. The pit of her stomach fluttered as she watched him in the kitchen, his back to her. She remembered the warmth of his body under her fingers, the feel of him pressed against her on the bike. They weren’t on the bike now, and there wasn’t anything between them except a cheap pine table.
Gunner set the glass of wine on the table, then settled back in the chair across from her. The wine was pale yellow and she took a large swallow.
“This is good. You have a really well-stocked kitchen here for such a rustic place.”
“Ah, just the essentials, really. Food and booze.”
She smiled and took another swallow of the mellow liquid. “You’re funny.”
They sat for many minutes in silence, enjoying the wine. Claire found Gunner’s eyes on her every time she looked up. And that was happening more and more frequently. She could see more than just his physical interest in her in those blue depths. He had questions. She wasn’t sure she wanted to start that conversation, so she waited. It didn’t take long for him to ask.
“So, you left the guy at the altar? You got cold feet and bailed?”
“Yeah, something like that. He’s a pretty angry guy, and I...” Her voice faltered as the memory came back, the pain and humiliation she’d felt, the fight or flight response kicking in.
“You ran?”
“I couldn’t go through with it. He’d go into rages where it was like anger blinded him to everything. He’d attack me for no reason...just always so aggressive and violent. I hadn’t met anyone like him before.”
Gunner’s eyes had darkened, his brows pulled together. “Bastard hit you. Why?”
“Because he could. Because I...I didn’t think I had a choice...then. And he knew that.”
“Everyone has a choice.” Gunner leaned back and gr
abbed the wine bottle from the counter. He refilled her glass, then his.
Claire took another swallow before answering.
“It’s not that simple. Adrian’s the only legitimate son of our Alpha, and our Alpha is one of the most influential men I know. He’s got connections here and back in the Old Country. Deep connections. This isn’t some New World pack. It goes back...way back.”
“Was this an arranged marriage?”
A warmth she couldn’t blame on the wine flushed through her, and she dropped her eyes.
“Oh, hit a nerve. Sorry.” Gunner’s voice was soft.
She lifted her head, chin thrust out, and met his gaze. This wasn’t going to be easy.
“I’m payment for a family debt.”
Gunner sputtered on his wine. “Really? What the hell kind of family pays their debts with an arranged marriage?”
Claire shrugged. “Mine. Old family, old country...old debt. My father...I guess you could say he did work for Adrian’s father, stuff no one else would do.”
“What did he do? Or not do?”
“I’m not sure. Something pretty bad, but I don’t know the details. Adrian’s father...his name is Victor...offered my father the deal a long time ago, when I was still a teenager. I guess that’s when whatever happened, happened. And the bastard took it rather than be kicked out of the pack.”
“So family honor wins out over family? That’s harsh.”
Claire fidgeted with the wineglass. “My father’s old-fashioned. Honor the Alpha above everything.”
“And he’s okay with you being on the run now?”
And this was the hard part, one of many. “He’s dead.”
Gunner looked suitably stunned for a moment. “I’m guessing it wasn’t old age?”
Claire shook her head. “Victor had him killed.”
“Why? When?”
Claire shrugged. “As a warning, I guess. I found out about it not long after I ran away, when I was stupid enough to keep in touch with family. I think that’s how Adrian got close the first time, through family.”
“Killing your father was going to get you to come back to the fold? Kind of seems like overkill...sorry, bad choice of words.”
“I don’t know if that’s the reason my father was killed. I think my running away was the reason, but I don’t know if it’s a threat, or a warning...or what it’s supposed to mean. I just know Victor had my father killed.”
“And how are you with that? You don’t seem too upset...” Gunner’s eyes held hers, his forehead furrowed.
“I...well, confused would probably sum it up in a nutshell. He sold me to Victor. I hated him for a long time because of that. But then, he was my father. Some days I try not to think about it too much.”
“Wow. Like I said before, when you piss people off...”
Claire closed her eyes, rubbing one hand across them. “It’s that honor thing. I humiliated Adrian, and when his pride is hurt, he’s irrational. And Victor backs him. He’s the only son, heir to the throne...a spoiled brat, actually. But yeah, having me killed seems like a pretty drastic measure. You’d think he’d be happy I’ve tried so hard to drop off the face of the earth. It all doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. But when it involves Adrian...” She spread her hands. “He’s never been predictable.”
Gunner tipped back in his chair. “Well, hell. You are in a tough spot.” He watched her for a long minute, expression unreadable, then filled their glasses again. They lapsed back into silence, but Claire’s mind spun on. Any rational guy, shifter or not, would give up on her. If Gunner took her back to the road now and left her sitting by the side of it on her duffel, she wouldn’t blame him.
Gunner finally sat forward, elbows resting on the table, the look on his face telling her whatever he had to say next was going to be on the serious side.
“We need to figure out a plan. What do you want to do?”
Claire set her empty glass on the table. “I hadn’t thought...I just wanted to get away. I only know how to run.”
“You can’t keep running, Claire. He’s found you once...well, twice, if he delivered his message about your father...and it’s only a matter of time before he finds you in some place where you can’t get away.”
Claire twirled the wineglass between her fingers, avoiding Gunner’s eyes. He got up from the table, taking her empty glass from her.
“I know...but...” She didn’t want to think about it now. Her head hurt, partly from the wine and mostly from thinking about Adrian and Victor.
She was trying really hard to believe the warm and fuzzy feeling inside her was from the wine, but deep down she knew it was Gunner and the effect he had on her. He was in the kitchen, moving around, cleaning up things, and she let her eyes roam over the broad shoulders and narrow waist before going back up to the messy dark hair. He turned, caught her gaze, and held it.
“I’m going to grab a shower. It’s late. If you want to get changed for bed...” He held her gaze a minute longer then pushed away from the counter, taking slow steps toward her.
The air between them practically crackled, and Claire suddenly had a hard time catching her breath.
His hand was on her arm, sliding up to her neck, cradling the back of her head with strong fingers. She closed her eyes, leaning into his hand, breathing out a deep sigh.
“Claire...” The sound of his voice was like sex to her ears. A deep thud hit her, low, somewhere south of her belly button, north of her knees, pretty much melting everything in between.
“Yeah?” She opened her eyes, looking into his.
“You know what I want, Claire.”
“Besides a shower?”
His smile only made her knees weaker, the warmth inside her flaring into a full-fledged fire.
“Yeah, besides a shower. I want you...more than I think I should. I’m going to go take a shower.”
“And?”
“Then I’ll be back. You can decide what you want.” He kissed her forehead, his fingers caressing her neck. He released her and she heard the bathroom door close.
Claire stood for a moment, listening to the shower running. She wanted Gunner just as much as he wanted her. It was intense and undeniable and overwhelming. But it felt right.
A search of her duffel turned up nothing remotely sexy. In packing for life on the run, alluring and sexy hadn’t figured in any of her choices. The best she could do was a search of the only closet in the cabin, unearthing a black t-shirt she assumed belonged to Gunner.
Stripping off everything but her panties, she dragged the t-shirt over her head. It was better than jeans and her t-shirt, but her hair was beyond help. A good shake and it was as good as it was going to get.
She walked over and stood by the big window, looking out over the darkness, rubbing her arms with her hands. A full moon had risen, outlining the trees on the ridge, casting them in black against an indigo sky. It was beautiful.
The sound of the shower stopped and after a moment, the bathroom door opened. In the reflection of the window, she saw the room behind her. A slice of yellow light cut across the floor. Gunner walked into that slice of light. He hadn’t bothered stopping by the closet for a shirt or anything else.
He came up behind her, his arms going around her waist.
“Nice view.” She met his eyes that were reflected in the window.
“Outside? Yeah, it’s nice. Inside...” He dropped his head, his breath warm on her neck. “It’s spectacular.”
His hands grabbed the edge of the t-shirt, fingers brushing against the tops of her thighs. The butterflies that had gathered in her stomach exploded, and she shivered. There was a murmur against her neck, his lips moving against her skin.
His hands moved higher, taking the t-shirt with them, exposing her breasts. She watched his reflection, his hands on her skin, covering her breasts, kneading them gently. He pressed against her from behind, molding her against his muscular chest and pressing something else...something very hard...against the sma
ll of her back.
Claire closed her eyes as one hand began a slow return trip back down her stomach, slipping beneath the elastic of her panties. His hands were doing some fairly interesting things to her body, her hips taking on a life of their own, rocking gently back and forth, seeking more contact from his hand, her thighs parting slightly, a pretty blatant invitation to explore anywhere he wanted. And he did, his fingers slipping lower, moving against her heated skin. Claire moaned softly, head resting against his shoulder. She glanced at the window again and drew a sharp breath.
Gunner’s head was bent to her neck, his lips caressing her slowly. Her body moved and swayed, hips and breasts under Gunner’s hands, her body a beautiful pale image against midnight black, Gunner behind her.
She was beautiful in a way she’d never thought possible. She was sexy and voluptuous and wanton, and truth be told, she liked what she saw.
Gunner pulled her back against him, then took a step away from the window. The bed was a few short steps to the right, and he deftly steered her toward it. They collapsed in a tangle of arms and legs, Gunner pinning her to the bed.
His mouth came down on hers, hard, his tongue flicking against her lips, and she returned his kiss, biting his lip. He growled against her mouth, hands palming her breasts over the shirt. The growl deepened, followed by the sound of ripping fabric.
Claire wiggled beneath him and Gunner pressed against her, his hips holding her to the mattress. Her body was on fire, arching against him, against this man, this beautiful stranger.
A stranger.
“Gunner...” Claire broke away from their kiss with a gasp. He dropped his head, nuzzling her breast.
“Hmm...yeah...” The flick of his tongue against one hard nipple sent a shiver across her skin. Her head fell back, eyes closing.
“Gunner...stop.” She pushed against him, fingers tugging his hair. He looked up at her. God, he was gorgeous, with heavy-lidded bedroom eyes that were half-closed right now.
“Stop? Oh...yeah.” He pushed up from her breast, eyes finally focusing on her. Claire’s heart, already thudding away at racehorse speed, skipped a few critical beats. She met his gaze, expecting...she wasn’t sure what to expect. Disappointment, probably. Anger...hopefully not.
Untamed Hearts (BBW Biker Werewolf Romance) Page 3
