Or was it something altogether different?
This morning she’d actually used the word love, and while Bren had not agreed with her that love was possible, had in fact said it was not, he hadn’t run in horror, either. Maybe he should’ve, considering how long they’d known one another.
Every time she looked at Bren she felt a rush of adrenaline and desire. She could feel him as if he was still inside her, and she knew that when she had him there again she would not let him go so soon. Next time she would have all of him. She craved that; she had to have it. When they got to his house and were alone, when she could touch him properly, he’d set aside whatever doubts he was beginning to feel.
Was what she felt love or was it one of the more ordinary, less appealing possibilities that made her crave him to her bones? She really did prefer the possibility of love to mental instability or wacky hormones.
Finally all his work was done and they were going home. What would happen when they got there? Would he try to send her to his bed alone again? She didn’t think so, but she also couldn’t be certain. Miranda wasn’t a woman who had any confidence in her ability to seduce a man, but where Bren was concerned she might have to give it a try.
The gas gauge on Bren’s truck was sitting on empty; the red light on the dash came on, warning that he was dangerously low. Out of necessity, he stopped to fuel up before heading back up their mountain. In Miranda’s mind there was no doubt that she’d be spending the night at Bren’s house, no doubt at all. Whatever it was that attracted her to him remained as strong, perhaps stronger, than it had been last night. Her heart pounded, her mouth was dry. Heaven above, she had become so obsessed with what was to come she hadn’t given the intruder and last night’s narrow escape more than a passing thought or two as the day had worn on.
When he’d pulled up to the fuel tanks, Bren had lowered the truck’s windows so she could enjoy the pleasant spring breeze while she waited. Yes, the air was slightly tainted with the smell of oil and gas, but it also held more than a hint of the crisp scent of mountain air. Why had she never accepted Roger’s offer to come here to vacation before? Think of all the pleasant days she had missed; think of all the time she might’ve spent with Bren, time that was gone and could not be reclaimed.
A nice-looking and rather large man wearing worn jeans, a buttoned-up shirt and a baseball cap headed toward the truck as Bren went inside the gas station to pay. The big man had driven into the lot not long after Bren, and since getting out of his vehicle he’d been picking up litter that had been thoughtlessly tossed aside by earlier customers. He didn’t look like a janitor of any sort, but she imagined maybe he worked here. Either that or he was a neat freak who didn’t mind picking up other people’s trash. Bren didn’t seem to mind leaving her alone with the big guy, though she would never be out of his sight, so maybe this smiling man was a local Bren knew well and trusted.
“You must be Miranda Lynch,” he said in a friendly tone as he approached the truck. “Name’s Duncan Archard. Roger told me you’d be staying at his place for a while. Sorry to hear about your troubles last night.”
“Thank you.” There was no reason not to be at ease with this man, and yet something in Miranda’s gut tightened. At this point her every response was suspect, since she could think of nothing but finishing what she and Bren had started last night. “Roger gave me your card and said you’d drive me around if I needed a lift anywhere.”
Archard’s eyes cut to the side as he said, “I see you’ve found yourself another ride.” He glanced over his shoulder to watch Bren, who was talking to the cashier. When Archard looked back at her, his eyes were hard. His expression was no longer friendly, and she was suddenly aware that his size was due to muscle, not fat. “I have to make this quick, so listen up. This thing between you and Korbinian, it can’t happen. It won’t be allowed.”
A shiver ran down her spine. “What are you—”
“You’re a freak, Miranda Lynch,” Archard said in a sharp voice. “The trouble is, Korbinian is a bigger freak than you are. He’s unnatural. He can’t be allowed to breed.”
Miranda looked toward the glass-enclosed store. With the engine off she couldn’t roll up the automatic windows. What she wouldn’t give for an old-fashioned crank window right about now! To have a sheet of glass between her and the threatening man would surely ease her rapid heartbeat and the new rush of fear. Bren stepped out of the building, his easy gaze on her and on the man who leaned into her door. Archard’s fingers wrapped over the window and into the truck, too near to Miranda. To Bren’s eyes all would appear to be well, but it was not.
She doubted Bren would get here any faster if she screamed, and it was possible that such a response would cause Archard to move his large, too-near hand to her throat. Miranda held her breath and leaned away from the open window, wondering if this obviously crazy man had been the one to break into the cabin last night.
“Go home, Miranda,” Archard said in a low voice. “Go home. Go back to Atlanta and forget you ever met Korbinian. Don’t ever come back here. If you do as I say, I won’t kill him.”
She couldn’t speak. Her heart pounded. Looking into this man’s eyes, she could see that he was no sick trickster. He was serious.
“Tell him why you’re leaving or warn him about me, and I—or someone else—will kill him. He’ll never see it coming.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I wish I had time to explain, but I don’t.” Again the threatening man glanced toward Bren, who came closer to the truck with every long, too-slow step, and the flash of undisguised hatred in his narrowed eyes made Miranda shiver. “Ask your friend Talbot how long he’s been watching you. Ask your keeper why monsters like Korbinian can’t be allowed to flourish.”
Miranda opened her mouth to ask Archard what the hell he was talking about. Keeper? But the hatred she’d seen in him disappeared as quickly and completely as it had appeared, and the man greeted Bren like an old friend, dismissing her.
Dee, who’d been absent since last night, popped into the back seat. “He’ll do it, damn him,” she said sadly. “Son of a bitch! I knew it was likely someone was watching, but I didn’t know who, and I had no idea they’d go to such lengths to make sure the Korbinians become extinct.”
“They?” Miranda asked weakly.
“He’ll kill Bren without thinking twice, if he thinks it’s necessary.” Dee bit her ghostly lower lip. “And if he can’t get to Bren, he’ll kill you. Archard or one of the others,” she added cryptically.
“Others?” Miranda said softly. She threw off her curiosity and attempted to think practically. That was not an easy task, as her mind was spinning and the fear was real and fresh. How could she stop the immediate danger? Was Archard the man who’d broken into the cabin with a gun in his hand and her name on his lips? “I’ll tell Bren and he’ll know what—”
“No!” the ghost said in a voice so loud and sharp Miranda wondered if those outside the truck might hear. “If you tell Bren about the threats Archard will know. Bren’s never been very good at hiding his thoughts, and if he knows that you’ve been threatened, he won’t take it well. In that case, I have no doubt that Archard will do exactly as he said he would. If he doesn’t do the killing himself, then another will.”
Again with the others. “Who are these people you’re talking about?” And was Roger really one of them, as Archard had suggested?
Dee waved off the question with a hand. “I need to think,” she said, and then she was gone.
Bren opened his door and Archard called out, his voice and smile deceptively friendly. “I was just telling Ms. Lynch that I talked to Roger and he’ll be here soon to collect her. He was quite distressed to hear about her troubles.”
Bren’s mouth thinned. “You called Talbot?”
Archard shook his head. “Nope. The sheriff called him and filled him in on what was going on. It’s Roger’s cabin and his guest, after all. Naturally he was quite upset.”
“I can imagine,” Bren said as he started the truck. Archard stepped away, and Bren steered his big truck toward the narrow road that would take him home. They hadn’t gone far before he said, “You have Talbot’s cell number, don’t you? Call him and tell him you’re going to stay. Maybe he’s not too far from home and he can just turn around without wasting too much of the day.”
Miranda stared out the passenger window. Archard’s words replayed in her head. She didn’t believe that Bren was a freak or a monster, but the man at the gas station knew too much, and she had no doubt that he would resort to violence if she didn’t do as he ordered. Dee, who was in a position to see more than Miranda, knew it, too. She couldn’t tell Bren, not without starting a confrontation that might very well lead to his death.
It was the “others” who worried her. Archard wasn’t working alone. She might not believe his threats about others, but she couldn’t dismiss Dee’s. It would be a waste of time to tell the sheriff about the threats. Even if he did believe her, and that was unlikely given his treatment of her so far, there was nothing he could do. She had no proof.
Archard had called Roger her “keeper.” Not her friend, not a coworker, but someone who was watching over her, or simply watching. He said Roger was the one who could answer the questions the threats roused.
“You’d better call before we hit the curve,” Bren said. “Unless you’d rather wait until we get to my house and use the landline.”
Miranda looked at Bren, not making a move toward her purse and her cell phone—which she hadn’t even bothered to turn on today, even though off the mountain she got a decent signal. Had Roger been trying to call her since talking to the sheriff? Knowing him as she did, she was certain the answer to that question was a resounding “yes.”
At the moment she had more pressing matters on her mind. Roger could wait. The word love had been tossed out as a very real possibility this morning. It was too early for her to know if it was love she felt or something strictly physical. Whatever it was, when she looked at Bren’s face she knew the world was better off with him in it. If staying with him, even for a few days, meant that his life was in danger, then she had no choice.
She couldn’t imagine why anyone would call this man a monster. Every instinct within her told her Bren was a good man.
“Maybe I shouldn’t call,” she said, her heart breaking a little. “Maybe I should just…go home.”
Bren’s dark eyes narrowed. “What about your vacation?”
Miranda stared out the side window because she couldn’t look at Bren and lie to him. Could she make this dismissal light and frivolous, as if all that had happened to her since coming to the mountains meant nothing? She had to try. “It’s been a crazy couple of days, huh? What a bust this so-called vacation has been. I’ll go home with Roger and get back to work and maybe in a couple of months I’ll take a real vacation. Jamaica. Hawaii. A resort with a spa and room service.”
“I don’t trust Roger Talbot,” Bren said. He didn’t attempt to make his voice and demeanor light or uncaring. There was a passion in his voice that she could not deny. “I’m not about to put you in a car with him and—”
“It’s not your decision to make,” Miranda said sharply. “It’s mine. And I trust Roger. He’s the only man in the world I do trust, to be honest.”
Bren’s face remained stoic. Eventually he said, “I thought you might trust me.” They passed the curve where they lost cell service and the road turned sharply upward.
“I don’t even know you,” Miranda said softly, realizing as she spoke the words how true they were.
“I’d say you know me well enough,” he responded, obviously unhappy with her decision. Just ahead the cabin came into view.
“Drop me here,” she ordered, knowing that if she and Bren were alone in his house for any length of time they’d end up in his bed and she would change her mind. She’d been turned inside out and upside down. Her thoughts were jumbled, her emotions raw. This morning she’d used the word love in regards to a man she’d known for less than two days! In her current state she might very well end up choosing a little bit of pleasure over his life. She’d get carried away as she had last night and she’d take what she could get, damn the consequences no matter how dire they might be. Now, while she was thinking clearly, while her fear for his life overpowered her physical yearning, was the time to call an end to whatever strange thing this was.
“I don’t want to leave you alone,” Bren said as he turned into the little driveway.
Miranda drew her purse strap over her shoulder, then reached into the back seat for her small suitcase and the laptop. “And I don’t want you here,” she said, trying to sound cold and falling far short.
“Miranda…”
She opened the passenger door and dropped her suitcase to the ground. “Don’t argue with me. I changed my mind, it’s that simple. Women change their minds all the time. You know damn well this thing with us isn’t normal. At least, it’s not normal for me. I don’t go home with guys I’ve known two days. I certainly don’t move in with them, not even for a week.” She stepped out of the truck, laptop case in hand, without telling him that she was not a girl who had sex on the bathroom counter without even thinking of protection. She wasn’t a woman who lost control.
“After last night, I don’t feel right leaving you here,” Bren argued. “Let me stay until Talbot arrives.”
Miranda turned and looked Bren in the eye. Upset as she was, she wanted him still. Her heart broke at the pain she saw in his eyes, and yet she couldn’t tell him the truth, not if the truth put him in danger. “No. I want to be alone. I’ll make you a deal,” she said, fighting for a lighter tone of voice. “You go home and leave me alone, and I’ll try to talk Roger into selling you the cabin. That’s what you’ve been after all along, right?”
Bren’s jaw clenched. His eyes narrowed. Miranda slammed the passenger door of the truck before he had a chance to respond. She hated the idea of waiting alone in this house where just last night her life had been threatened. But she hated even more the thought of Bren losing his life because she couldn’t bear to let him go.
What had happened? One minute Miranda had been smiling and anxious to get to his bed, and the next she’d been cold and anxious in an entirely unpleasant way. Had Duncan Archard said something to her? What could he have said to make her change her mind about him? Maybe she’d simply come to her senses, as he should’ve.
This thing with Miranda had happened too fast. He didn’t want a decision that would affect the rest of his life to be made in the heat of the moment; he didn’t want to be led by baser instincts. He wasn’t sure what would’ve happened if he’d brought Miranda home with him as he’d planned.
That wasn’t entirely true. In spite of his doubts, if he had Miranda here she’d end up in his bed and the decision would be made for both of them. It was better this way. As soon as Talbot took her home, Bren’s life would return to normal. Without the physical proximity that had set his urges into motion, his life would once again be as he’d designed. Quiet, productive, satisfying and solitary.
No matter how glad he was to be rid of Miranda, no matter how anxious she was to go, he wasn’t going to leave her alone, not when there was any chance that the intruder who’d frightened her last night might return. Miranda trusted Talbot completely, but Bren certainly didn’t.
But dammit, he couldn’t follow her around and watch over her for the rest of his life. If she trusted the man then there was nothing he could do about it; but nothing would happen to her while she was here on his mountain.
Bren stripped off his shirt and unfastened his jeans as he walked toward the deck and the sky, for the first time in a long while not waiting for the cover of night. He kicked off his shoes and threw open the French doors, not bothering to close them against the breeze that filled his home with cool spring air. He stepped out of his jeans and leaped toward the sky, bursting into a flock of seventy-seven ravens before his
heavy human body even had a chance to begin dropping.
The ravens swooped toward the cabin below, their formation tight, their wings spread to catch the air. On one end of the formation three ravens dipped and twirled, the aerial acrobatics controlled in the same way a man might manipulate his fingers. There was little effort involved; to dance on air was as natural to Bren in his raven form as it was for him to breathe as a man.
Both man and bird were drawn to Miranda and he’d believed she was drawn to him just as strongly. And yet it seemed that she was ready to flee from him without a second thought. Was she truly Kademair? Was it possible that he’d been wrong all along? If she was truly Kademair she wouldn’t leave him; if she was truly Kademair he would not let her go. Maybe she was simply a pretty woman and he’d been too long without a serious sexual relationship. Maybe the dreams and the strong attraction were perfectly normal.
Miranda stepped out onto the deck, as if drawn there by the approach of the large black birds. She stepped to the railing, grasping with pale, small hands and looking up into the sky as he swooped toward her.
Perfectly normal? No. Nothing about him, or her, was normal.
The ravens that approached the cabin were not small, sweet songbirds, but instead, large and magnificent creatures with sharp black eyes, deadly beaks, powerful wings and an eerily human-sounding series of caws. They came to the cabin so often and so easily Miranda could only assume that someone who’d stayed here had once fed them.
She knew enough about ravens to realize that they would not be drawn here by bread crumbs or birdseed. They were carrion eaters. If she wanted to call these birds to her to feed them she’d need to stock up on roadkill. Miranda shuddered but she didn’t move away, not even when five of the birds perched on the railing and looked boldly at her as the others circled the cabin.
Last of the Ravens Page 11
