Her mind was spinning, her heart thumping. She felt alive, revived from a decade-long sleep. For the longest time, the only thing she’d felt any passion for was work, and she’d thrown herself into it. Submerged herself, even. Until now, she’d been too numb to feel like she’d missed anything.
But now, she wanted more. Life. Love. Passion.
All of it! her wolf cried.
It didn’t matter that warning bells were clanging through the human part of her mind, telling her she was falling for a trick of the desert all over again. She’d felt exactly the same flicker of hope on her first visit to Arizona, only to leave bitter and broken-hearted. But since hope felt better than despair, she let her wolf take over. Let herself live, maybe even love.
She ran to the top of a rise, reveling in the power of her legs. To the east, parallel ribbons of red and white pulsed: the highway. In the foreground lay the muted lights of the ranch, half hidden behind sloping roofs. Over there was Jean’s low duplex, the left half of which was now Nan’s home. Everything was quiet, orderly, and apparently safe. But danger pressed in at the edges of the ranch; the world was full of it.
Her eyes jumped over a gap of darkness to an outlying house, an L-shaped adobe with wide windows and long, narrow skylights. Strips of tungsten light radiated between thick roof beams, glowing yellow against the indigo of the night. The way the house was perched at the far edge of the property suggested it might pick up and run clear into the desert if not for the split-log fence that surrounded it. She wondered who lived there, so far apart from the rest.
Then something stirred inside and —click— the lights went out. The house collapsed into brooding shadow as an owl hooted nearby. She cocked her head at the house. Who, who indeed?
She took off again, listening to her four paws scrape over the rocky ground in a steady tempo with the beating of her heart. On the next hilltop, she stopped, swung her head west and sniffed. There was something familiar out there in the wild. Something forbidden and oh-so tempting. She sniffed again, but just couldn’t capture why this particular place, this rocky outcrop beside a spiky patch of cliffrose called to her. She turned a slow pirouette, taking in the princely view. She was flooded by the scent, the place, the memories.
The prickly tickle of sage, the smoky taste of mesquite, the fragrance of sycamore. Wrapping it all together like the curtain of night was a subtler scent that was unique and individual. Something piney, almost masculine.
She stopped short, then sniffed again, letting her nose peel back the layers in the air, one by one, until she’d dissected them right down to its essence—and froze in realization. Could it really be?
She swayed on her feet. The scent that drove her wild, that had stayed with her all these years—it wasn’t the scent of the desert. It was Ty.
It was him, driving her crazy. Him, stirring her passion.
But how could that be? She searched her memories of her first visit to Arizona, years back. Somehow, she’d missed meeting Ty. Had he been away? One way or another, she’d caught his lingering scent. At that time, she’d put the intoxicating scent down to a trick of the desert and not an individual. But she’d been wrong. It was Ty.
For some reason, fate hadn’t seen fit to deliver on that promise, all those years ago. All she’d been given then was a tiny hint, but it had been enough. In all the dark moments in the past twelve years, she’d cheered herself by imagining the desert: the space, the freedom, the sense of possibility. That crazy feeling of belonging.
No wonder her dreams were filled with red-rock mesas and vast, open spaces instead of the deep green woods of her home. No wonder the dry desert air soothed rather than scoured her throat. No wonder she’d never met a man who’d stirred her interest before. She’d been waiting for Ty without realizing it.
Ty, her destined mate.
The more she breathed in the view from this mesa high above the ranch, the more it made sense. As a shifter matured, so too did his scent. But that didn’t mean the essence of it changed. It was like looking at a baby picture; the connection seemed so obvious once you linked the smooth features of the baby with the rugged adult.
That’s what her instincts had been trying to tell her all along. He was her destined mate!
Far in the recesses of her mind, a voice warned that this was all much more complicated than it seemed. But she was in wolf form, and wolves had a way of simplifying things. He was hers, she was his.
Lana touched her nose to the cool earth and sniffed, delighted to find more traces of Ty. He’d spent time here, lots of it. His scent was everywhere, and it worked on her like a drug. She rolled on her back and wiggled, insisting it keep her company. Once, years ago, she’d had a similar feeling of something wonderful hanging just out of reach. Now it was just her and the stars and the same enchanted place, and for one moment, she let herself give in to it all and hope.
Hope? The human part of her mind wondered if she really dared.
Ty flipped off the lights in his house, stepped outside, and shifted. When his body needed it most, the process was smooth, more thrilling than painful. When it was forced, shifting could be agony as cartilage stretched and bones realigned. Tonight the change from one body to the other was so seamless he barely noticed it. A moment later, his wolf gave a settling-in shake and took off at a hammering run.
By day, the desert slumbered, but at night, it pulsed with life. Cacti breathing, cereus blooming from the tips of their leaves. Birds and jackrabbits flitted from cover to cover, and even the hills seemed awake. He inhaled it with every weary breath. He knew every tussock and every stone, yet the desert’s mood was different every night. There was always something hidden, unexpected.
A run was just what he needed after a hell of a day. Once he’d wrapped up business—to the extent that it could be wrapped up for the night—he had cleaned out the Jeep and discovered a torn luggage tag. Lana’s. He’d sniffed the scrap, turned it over in his hands, and sniffed again. Even that little hint of her was intoxicating. Then he read the full name and address and froze.
Dixon. Lana Dixon. From the Berkshires, he remembered Aunt Jean saying.
Half the desert seemed to lodge in his throat at that moment of realization. Aunt Jean couldn’t have been so bold as to invite one of those Dixons here, could she? He remembered his father cursing the name. If a Dixon ever tries to step foot here, I’ll kill him—or her. His voice had been shaking as he said it, finger stabbing every word.
Lana was a Dixon? Here? It was pure insanity; his father wouldn’t stand for it.
Except, of course, that his father wasn’t home…yet. He’d be back in a week. Something in Ty’s jaw twitched at the thought. Why would Jean act against his father’s orders? And did Lana even know about the history between their families?
No, he decided. If she did, she would never have stepped foot on the ranch with that innocent, oblivious air.
He needed to run, to think. There were too many volcanoes rumbling, all of them threatening to erupt at once. The rogues. Lana and the shattering effect she had on him. The danger she had unknowingly wandered into. The mincemeat his father would make of him when he returned.
He gave his muzzle a vicious shake. A Dixon, back after all these years. Was it really possible?
He made a long, punishing loop to the west, then eased into a lope and turned north, making straight for his special place. The moon wasn’t yet up, the stars all the brighter for its absence. Problems looked smaller from his hill. He knew it was an illusion, but hell, he needed a break like never before.
He pounded onto higher ground, past the last stands of thistle and the rambling barberry that marked his own private turf where no one dared disturb him. There, on the highest point of land, he looked east, beyond the slumbering valley. Any second now…
There. The rising moon. The globe was a few days short of full, but plump and heavy all the same. He could feel it singing through the earth even before the upper cur
ve stole its first furtive glance over the ridge line. When the body followed, its pale light flipped a switch inside him. His rump hit the ground, his muzzle pointed up, and a low, rumbling cry left his muzzle. It rose, fell, then climbed again, bouncing off each undulation of the landscape. The desert was made for howling, lifting and amplifying the sound the way no other place could. He could howl all night, lose himself in the bittersweet ballad.
Lana—Lana Dixon—was here on the ranch. So near, so impossibly far. She was forbidden fruit, the Capulet to his Montague. The thought of what he would be denied gave him all the more reason to howl. He tipped his head back more and spilled his soul into the night. Hope, despair, and yearning, all tumbled together in his heart song.
Alone. He’d always be alone.
Lana sensed the other wolf as a vague feeling even before she heard the measured breath of an athlete, the confident step of one at home. A shiver ran through the landscape at his approach, and everything hushed in anticipation. Then one of the shadows wavered and a wolf emerged from the darkness, heading to the highest outcrop a stone’s throw away. She crouched, watching. The wind was with her; he hadn’t caught her scent.
It was the most magnificent wolf she’d ever seen. Big. Taller than her by a head. His coat was a midnight shade of brown, like the strongest, most bitter coffee—no cream, no sugar, concentrated into a syrup you’d be crazy to sip, let alone swallow.
Ty, as bold and brooding in canine form as on two feet. A shudder of anticipation rolled through her.
The soft texture of his coat was framed by the harsh landscape, and power rolled off him like a heat wave. Frustration, too—mountains of it. When Ty tilted his head and howled, her heart stuttered. That bass was the voice of a prisoner, yearning to break free. Low and sorrowful, it swelled and modulated but never broke. She leaned into the night air, wanting to brush up against him, wanting to ease the unbearable loneliness.
In the next slow heartbeats, his voice seemed to grow louder, nearer. With a blink, she realized her wolf had taken up the cry too, and was pouring her soul into the night with him. The moon just yanked it out of her.
She pounded every aching minute of the past years into her howl and let the vast space multiply it a dozen times over. Ty’s voice wavered as hers rose, and then broke off altogether. She wanted so badly for him to acknowledge the force that seemed to lasso them together, again and again. Destiny was at work here. Couldn’t he tell?
She strained for some sign, but Ty didn’t answer. She howled until her voice cracked on a last, echoing note, then let her head sink to the ground as silence crushed in around her. Maybe fate was playing an ever crueler trick this time, giving her a man who didn’t love her back. She counted one hollow heartbeat, then another, feeling hope drain away. A tumbleweed hurried past; perhaps it, too, was chasing a reluctant mate.
That’s when Ty started up again. She could have wept at the sound, half in joy, half in sorrow. She joined in on his next refrain, swelling with hope as their voices merged. The sound formed a bridge, and she could swear she felt his heart beat in her chest as their voices carried high and far. Their duet was a serenade, an incantation, urging the moon higher so that it might brighten the darkness and show them the way.
Every living thing stopped, listening in a reverent hush. Even the moon seemed to bend an ear. They struck their most perfect chord, and Lana hung on to it so long, so breathlessly, that she didn’t notice when Ty stopped. Only that the night was still, except for his footfalls, drawing near.
She pulled in a sharp breath and trembled, fighting every instinct to drop her head in submission. Tonight, he wasn’t the pack alpha. He was her mate.
Yes, her mate. Her wolf knew it and made damn sure any hesitation from her human side was firmly locked away.
God, he was big. Imposing. Proud. His eyes were bright and full of surprise at the female who refused to back away. She forced her tail to stay straight as a flag instead of letting it droop between her hind legs. If they were to be mates, they would do it on equal terms. She lifted her chin when he stopped, half a step away, the soft huff of his breath the only moving thing in the crisp night air.
When his muzzle went left, sniffing her space, hers mirrored the motion. When he swung right, she stayed in the middle. Let him look all he wanted. Let him come closer. Let him touch.
As if bidden, Ty stepped forward and did a slow lap of her body, his nose tracing an invisible boundary above her back, then breaking through it until he was brushing along her side. A spark crackled on her coat at his first contact, and her pulse started throbbing in her veins.
Mine! Mate!
Surely he knew it now, too?
Her heart thumped wildly as she leaned closer, pushing past the outer tips of his fur to feel the warmth beneath. He pulled slowly along the length of her left side and up to her face, then ran the underside of his chin over the nape of her neck in the ultimate wolf sign of trust. Much as she was tempted to roll and offer him her belly, she stood firmly on four feet. The daughter of an alpha could damn well hold her own, even if it meant hiding an inner tremble.
She started her own slow dance, running her muzzle up his neck and over his shoulder until they were intertwined, slow-wrestling for closer contact. She’d never felt warmth like this before—warmth that had her imagining the surrounding landscape lit with a thousand flickering candles set in irregular rows that turned the night into a place of worship. In a place like that, even the most jaded soul could find faith.
As Ty circled again, the inner throbbing grew more insistent. He paused at her rump, and this time, she dropped her haunches in a thinly veiled hint. She was ready for her mate. Burning for him, in fact. Instinct chanted within her, wanting him to mount, to slide inside, to give her pleasure like no lover ever before. Want became spoken need as she let out a low whine. Ty gave off an answering call, a rumble from deep within his chest that grew as he circled yet again and nuzzled her, face to face. He did it over and over, a gesture fit for a caring lover, not a mighty wolf who took what he wanted, as hard and fast as he wanted. It was she who was rushing, insisting. She couldn’t help a little yowl, an insistent nudge of her hips.
Ty’s rumble went deeper and she could sense a shiver of anticipation sweep through his body. His uneven breath and slow, almost reverent movements told her that this was different than the hundred ordinary conquests of a much-sought-after alpha.
She only intended to let out an encouraging yip, but she found herself in another heartfelt howl that begged the moon to shine the truth into Ty’s eyes. A weight squeezed in beside her—Ty—and he howled too, underpinning her voice with his deeper harmony. She could picture a thousand moonlit nights spent in exactly this way. They’d let their voices wrap around each other, then let their bodies follow suit.
Every living thing in the desert stopped, listening to their song in a reverent hush. But just as they struck their most perfect chord, Ty’s voice cut off in mid-cry.
A deathly quiet suffocated the hills, and her head snapped left to study Ty. In an instant, her mate had gone from singer to solid rock. His hackles were raised from nape to tail and his nose pointed at something—someone?—out in the shadows.
She tried to chisel some feature out of the darkness as a dozen mixed emotions coursed through her veins. Anger was foremost: anger at the trespasser who’d interrupted their serenade and made her mate an alpha again, protector of his pack. Awe came in a close second, because the power radiating off Ty was overwhelming. In the space of a heartbeat, he’d morphed from tender lover to king of the night. He stood stiff and tall, his only movement the flare of his nostrils and his bristling fur.
She sniffed the air. There was something out there, all right. Something distant and barely perceptible, like the pressure front at the leading edge of a desert storm. The hair along her spine spiked. Could it be the rogues?
When Ty shifted forward, she did the same. He took a step west, sniffing, then swung
his head back to her with a quiet growl.
Go, his hard eyes said.
Their special moment was gone, and he wanted her gone so he could tend to the threat hovering in the night.
She took a defiant step forward. She would not be cowed. She would stand by him, not retreat. She would fight alongside him. She would—
Go. Now. That steely look was a direct order, alpha to subordinate.
Everything in her wanted to hate him at that moment. But instead of hating, her heart cracked wider open. Didn’t he know he didn’t have to face every enemy alone? Didn’t he know she wanted to stand by his side?
His look didn’t waver, and she had her answer. Duty came first with this man, duty above everything else.
Lana wanted to protest, but an order from an alpha was law, and she had no choice but to obey. It hurt, though, being brushed aside. Just like the frustrating days of her childhood, before she’d finally earned the right to fight alongside her brothers and make a stand for her pack.
But this wasn’t her pack, not yet, anyway. Her shoulders turned away, and although her eyes tried to hang on to Ty, they, too were forced to join the retreat. She could practically hear the snakeweed snicker. Would this alpha ever respect her as an equal, or would he only see her as helpless and meek?
Lana didn’t do helpless. She didn’t know meek. She was a fighter, a leader in her own right.
Her human side bucked against his rejection. He didn’t want her help? Well, she didn’t want or need that kind of mate.
Her wolf, though, howled in protest, seeing a lifetime of regret ahead if she didn’t act. No! We can’t give him up without a fight!
They’d been so close to some great truth a moment ago. She could feel it. Finally her heart was waking up, like a seed that had been waiting for exactly the right conditions to germinate—and now this?
Spring Feve Page 4
