A full moon encounter shouldn’t generate feelings of any kind. Jealousy was a dangerous emotion for Dogmen and Lincoln wasn’t proud to be infected with it. Angeline was simply his first full moon partner in a very long time. There could be nothing between them and yet when they coupled, Lincoln had been filled with a comforting sense of home.
Strange, because his real home had been less than cozy. His parents were strict, career-focused and had the highest expectations. They were disappointed with anything less than perfection.
He picked up the photo Tanner had entrusted to him. Thankfully, the picture had been tucked safely inside a thin silver case when he fell from the second-story window. The moment Lincoln had lost consciousness, he’d shifted back into his human form. The shift energy would’ve destroyed the photo without the protection of the silver case.
He stared at the worn, familiar image of Angeline that had been his lifeline too many times to count.
Mine!
“No,” he sighed, tracing the angelic face of the woman in the picture. “She’s not.”
Lincoln’s jumbled emotions were simply a confusion of instinct. For years he’d studied Angeline’s picture, memorizing every detail, imbuing it with the belief she was his guardian angel, and treating it as if it were a living, breathing entity. As a result, his instinct had forged a bond with the figment of his imagination. Now his wolf didn’t understand the difference between fantasy and reality.
Yes, he’d had sex with Angeline. But full moon sex was nothing more than the quenching of a biological necessity.
He needed to keep his distance until his body, his brain and his wolfan instinct understood that Angeline was not the fantasy he’d concocted to get him through some really bad times.
A flesh-and-blood woman, she had feelings and a heart that had already been broken by a Dogman. Considering Lincoln had one last do-or-die mission to complete, he couldn’t encourage anything to develop between them. To do so wouldn’t be fair to either of them or to Dayax, who was depending on Lincoln to find him.
From the dresser drawer he pulled out a clean pair of boxers and a T-shirt then sat on the bed to get dressed. Barely 10:00 p.m. and too keyed up to sleep, he used the crutches to hobble out of the bedroom.
The satphone he’d left on the kitchen counter had not received any messages while he was in the shower, which meant no news on Dayax’s whereabouts. He scrolled to the only picture stored in the phone’s memory: Dayax hugging him. Lincoln had just given the wolfling some beef jerky. The sheer pleasure on the kid’s face always made Lincoln smile.
He tossed the phone onto the kitchen counter and made his way into the living room. Laying the crutches on the floor, he stretched out on the couch. Nothing caught his interest on the television but he left it on, hoping the light and sound would keep the nightmares away. At the very least, it would mask Angeline’s footfalls as she came up the stairs. She didn’t have heavy steps, but somehow he always heard her coming home.
Barely had his eyes closed before his stomach started gurgling. He’d skipped supper, ducking out of Taylor’s before being served. Deli meats and condiments were in the fridge, but preparing a sandwich would be cumbersome on crutches and he simply lacked the motivation to get up.
Knowing how to ignore hunger, he grabbed the blanket off the back of the couch and settled into a comfortable position beneath it. The crawly feeling spread into his chest and a pricking sensation ran up his spine.
Someone pounded on the door.
“Lincoln.”
He sat up, his heart beginning to rev.
“Lincoln, are you home?” There was a slight pause. “Sheesh! It’s freezing out here!”
He reached for the crutches despite his brain’s warning to not answer.
Maybe if Angeline saw him this way, she would start avoiding him, saving him the trouble.
Halfway to the door, he saw it swing open.
“Oh!” The downward curl of her mouth slid into a vivacious smile. “You’re home.”
“What are you doing here?” The gruffness in his voice didn’t deter her from coming inside and toeing the door closed behind her.
“You left without eating.” She waggled the carryout bags in her hands.
“Since when does Taylor’s deliver?” His fingers tightened around the hand grips on the crutches.
“It’s a perk of being my neighbor.” She waltzed past him, dropped the food on the coffee table and stared at the pillow and rumpled blanket on the couch. “Still sleeping on couches?”
“Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“I got off early. It’s a tradition.” She went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Before Tristan met Nel, he and I always hung out on Valentine’s Day. Strictly platonic. We’d eat and watch a movie.” Holding a couple of bottles of water, she returned to the living room and sat on the couch. “Since you’re here, I thought...” Her voice trailed off.
If Lincoln intended to turn her away, he needed to do it now.
Taking a deep breath, he joined her. She didn’t flinch or grimace watching him come toward her, legless and crutch dependent.
“What do you usually watch?” He eased down beside her.
“Anything non-romantic.” When she opened the bags, the delicious scent of saucy chicken wings made his mouth water. “Tristan likes all the comic book movies. Great special effects, over-the-top action.”
“All right.” He tried not to tense, thinking of the epic battles and explosions.
Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a pensive look. “I prefer something with less drama tonight.”
“Be my guest.” He handed her the television remote.
Her fingers grazed his hand and warmth ebbed beneath her touch. She pulled up a pay-per-view channel then finished unpacking the food and handed him a container filled with chicken wings.
“Thanks.” He loved the soft smile she gave him.
“So.” Settling next to him, she stole one of his wings. “Does your prosthetic always make your leg red?”
“No,” he said. “It’s a friction burn.”
“Is it because we...you know.” She bit into the wing.
“Probably.” Not sensing pity, he began to relax. “My stump is still a little tender from everything that happened.”
“I didn’t realize that it bothered you.”
“I do exercises to help desensitize the nerves, but I’m still getting used to my new...” He couldn’t bring himself to say “limits.”
“Way of life?” Genuine understanding shimmered in Angeline’s eyes.
“Yeah.” One that he began to think could be better than he’d ever imagined.
* * *
Angeline inhaled Lincoln’s clean masculine scent. The warmth spreading through her had little to do with the blanket she snuggled beneath. She smiled, despite herself.
“Hey, Dogman.” She elbowed the lump next to her. “What time did the movie end?”
When he didn’t answer, she sat up, opening her eyes, a little disoriented with the darkened living room.
“Lincoln?” Even as she called out for him, Angeline knew he wouldn’t answer. The apartment felt too empty for him to be there.
Uncurling her legs, she tossed aside the blanket. Normally, she’d leave it where it landed. But she noticed Lincoln had removed the take-out containers filled with chicken bones and dirty napkins from the coffee table, folded her jacket across the chair and placed her boots near the door. He seemed to like things neat, so she smoothed the blanket over the back of the couch.
“All righty.” She clasped her hands between her knees. “Guess I should go.”
Normally, she didn’t do sleepovers. Watching a comedy with Lincoln last night had been fun and relaxing. She hadn’t meant to fall asleep and apparently her staying all night had freaked out Lincoln s
o much that he’d left. Pulling her phone from her purse, she checked the time.
Nearly ten in the morning, she might as well get to work on that song niggling her brain. Maybe she could figure out the bothersome last refrain and come up with some lyrics that didn’t churn her stomach with their sappiness.
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Angeline collected her coat and boots and padded to the door. She felt sad leaving this way, but clearly understood Lincoln’s hesitation about facing her the morning after.
Their full-moon coupling wasn’t meant to be anything more. But coming over last night didn’t have anything to do with it. She and Tristan really did have a V-day tradition and she didn’t want to spend it alone. It had been a mistake to assume Lincoln had felt the same.
So much for being neighborly.
Turning to leave, she heard footfalls nearing Lincoln’s apartment. Her heartbeat picked up speed.
After quickly finger-combing her hair, she opened the door. “Hey, I was—Oh!”
“I’ll be damned.” A man a few inches shorter than Lincoln, with a short crop of dark brown hair and a jagged scar slicing across his handsome face, slowly removed his mirrored sunglasses. The accompanying smile lacked real warmth. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Not sweetheart.”
His laughter rang hollow.
“Are you lost?” She knew every resident in the small apartment complex and this wolfan was not one of them.
“Definitely not.” He adjusted the shoulder strap of his duffel bag that looked an awful lot like the one Lincoln had.
“You’re a Dogman, aren’t you,” Angeline said, flatly. She’d gotten used to Lincoln because he didn’t resemble what she’d imagined a Dogman to be.
“I am.” Now the stranger’s broad smile turned genuine and arrogant and expectant. “Is Adams up? Or sleeping off a long full moon night?”
“I didn’t catch your name,” she said instead of slamming the door in his leering face.
“Marquez.” Lincoln’s voice drifted up the stairwell.
Angeline’s heart began that fast-paced tha-dump again.
Reaching the landing, carrying two large coffees and a small white bag, he smiled at Angeline. “I picked up breakfast.” His gaze shifted to the man. “Should’ve told me you were coming.”
“My business in Atlanta ended sooner than expected. Didn’t think you would mind if I dropped in.”
Lincoln’s stoic look gave no hint as to whether or not he was glad to see Marquez. However, his eyes twinkled when he handed her the paper bag.
Angeline wasted no time checking the contents. “Oo-oh, raspberry éclairs. I haven’t tried these yet.”
Instead of grabbing one and dashing home in the cold, she dumped her things in the chair and made herself comfortable on the couch. Lincoln set the drinks on the coffee table.
Marquez closed the door and dropped the duffel bag on the floor next to the entertainment center. “Are you going to introduce me?”
Sitting next to Angeline as she took her first bite of the delicious pastry, Lincoln tipped his head toward her. “Angeline O’Brien, Damien Marquez.”
A mouth full of food saved her from expressing the sentiment that it was a pleasure to meet him. It wasn’t. She could manage dealing with one Dogman, but two?
“Nice place you have,” Damien said, glancing around the apartment.
“It isn’t mine.” Lincoln sipped his coffee.
Damien’s gaze darted to Angeline. Instead of answering the man’s silent question, she turned to Lincoln. “These are really good.”
“Glad you like them.” He wiped away a dot of raspberry-cream filing from her mouth and sucked the confection off his thumb.
“So.” Damien looked at the chair filled with Angeline’s coat, purse and boots. “You two are—?”
“Neighbors,” she and Lincoln said in unison.
“Right.” Damien grabbed a chair from the round table in the dining area off the kitchen, turned it around and straddled the seat.
“You two worked together?” Angeline asked Lincoln.
“He’s my captain.” Damien shrugged. “Was, anyway. I’m going to a new unit. I guess Linc will be going into retirement.”
A subtle tension crept into Lincoln’s body, and Angeline noticed a gleam of satisfaction in Damien’s eyes. Instinctively, she’d disliked the man upon opening the door. His standing hadn’t improved in the last few minutes.
Angeline finished off the éclair and picked up her coffee as she stood. “I should get home.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes as Lincoln pushed to his feet. “Thanks for stopping by last night,” he said softly.
“It was fun, wasn’t it?”
“Especially when you started snoring,” Lincoln said, walking her to the door.
“I do not snore.”
“Yeah, you did.” He smiled. “Until I let you hog the blanket and you curled up in my lap.”
“No, I didn’t.”
The truth in his pale, wistful eyes convinced her otherwise.
She gathered her things and he walked her to the door.
“See ya later.” She meant to give him a quick peck on the cheek but he responded with a soft nuzzle that had her curling into his warmth.
“Stop by anytime.”
She nodded then hurried down the corridor to her apartment. Tucked safely inside, she headed into the bedroom to get her guitar. She needed to write down the notes of the new tune running through her mind.
Chapter 13
“You lying bastard.” Damien’s short laugh raised Lincoln’s hackles. “I never understood your obsession with a stranger in a photo, but you’ve known who she is all along. And now you’re up close and personal with her.”
“I didn’t lie.” Lincoln closed the door after Angeline disappeared inside her apartment. “I accepted an invitation to finish out my medical leave here rather than in the infirmary at Headquarters. Finding Angeline, nothing more than a coincidence.”
“No such thing. Isn’t that what you always said?” Damien migrated from the dining table chair to the leather one in the living room.
“Apparently, I was wrong.” Lincoln returned to the couch, popped the lid of his coffee cup and swallowed the hot drink. All the while his mind spun with ideas.
Ideas of the quickening that brought together true mates. Dangerous ideas with a promise of a future he wasn’t entitled to have.
“What did she say when you told her how long you’ve been carrying around her picture?”
“I haven’t mentioned it.” Lincoln didn’t want to risk her rejection, even if they were nothing more than friendly neighbors. He fished out the éclair Angeline had left for him and bit into it. “I would offer you breakfast, but I didn’t know you were coming.”
“I grabbed a sandwich on the way up from Atlanta this morning. Good thing I hooked up with a flight attendant last night. If I hadn’t, I might’ve interrupted your sleepover.”
Lincoln’s skin prickled, but he dismissed the errant warning because the peculiar smile on Damien’s face was likely caused by the deep scar running down the side of his face.
“That picture of her must be pretty damn lucky,” Damien continued. “No one would know that you were knocked out of a two-story window. Not one damn scratch as far as I can see.”
“I lost my leg.” Lincoln hiked his pant leg, revealing the prosthetic. “I’d say that’s more than a scratch.”
“At least the Program gave you a new leg.” Damien traced the long, deep, jagged scar down his cheek. “They wouldn’t give me a new face. Apparently cosmetic reconstruction isn’t worth their time.”
Young and more than a little cocky about his looks, of course Damien considered the Program’s refusal to erase the scar to be a deeply personal affront.
“Sorry, man,” Lincoln said regretfully. If Lila hadn’t convinced the team to follow him, she would be alive and Damien would still have his perfect face.
He waved off Lincoln’s concern. “The ladies still love me. I’ve been told I look dangerous and sexy.” Damien grinned. “Damn right I am.”
Lincoln laughed, glad that Damien had taken what had happened in stride, but it tweaked his heart that he’d never get the chance to talk it out with Lila.
“It’s good to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“I have some time to kill before my next deployment.” Due to the Program’s restrictions, a Dogman’s social circles consisted entirely of other Dogmen. “Is there a hotel in this flea-sized town?”
“A resort, but they’re hosting a couples retreat.”
“Just my luck.” Damien frowned.
“You can bunk here. You can even take the bed. I’m partial to the couch.”
“What about your neighbor?”
“She’s off-limits,” Lincoln said a bit too abruptly.
“How about passing along her picture? I could use a good-luck charm.”
“It’s not mine to give away.” Before he left Walker’s Run, Lincoln would return the photo to Angeline and give her the message he had sworn to deliver.
Damien shrugged. “It was worth a try.”
“If you’re going to stay awhile, you’ll need a key.” Lincoln stood and went to the door. “Help yourself to the fridge, the shower, whatever you need. I’ll be back with a key in a few minutes.”
“She has the key, doesn’t she?”
“Her name is Angeline and, yeah, she has the spare.” Lincoln stepped into the corridor. The cold air nipped his face and hands. Memories of Angeline snuggling against him in her sleep heated his blood. He could’ve woken her up after the movie ended, but he was comfortable, she was comfortable and he simply didn’t see the need to disturb either of them. And for the first time since waking up in the Program’s hospital, he’d had a peaceful night’s sleep.
The faint sound of music touched his ears just before he rapped on Angeline’s door. “Hey, Angel, it’s me.”
Tamed by the She-Wolf Page 11
