Spirit of the Wolf

by Vonna Harper

  “When do you have to be back?” he belatedly asked.

  “I’ve arranged for someone to take over for the day.” She didn’t look at him. “If necessary, I can be gone all night.”

  Only they hadn’t brought anything except for water and a few granola bars. Just thinking about having to spend the night at Antelope Grove tightened his belly.

  “What about you?” she asked. “You’re shorthanded without Beale, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded but didn’t press. After the better part of a minute, he relaxed. And went back to thinking about her body, because focusing on the physical—which had been the best he’d ever experienced—was easier than contemplating what she might be thinking about.

  Even now he wasn’t sure why he’d asked her to accompany him. Given how he might react once they were there, he should be alone. Alone and isolated and safe in ways he had no words for. Losing out on parents the way he had had done something to him. Either that or he’d been born what the sheriff had called him the other day—a loner.

  But even a hermit needed someone in his life. A soft and willing woman body. Heat and urgency. Sex that stripped him stupid.

  How deep had she been able to dig? he pondered as they began the climb to Antelope Grove. She’d never said anything to indicate she’d discovered the holes in him, but Cat could touch a horse’s soul. Surely she’d tried to do the same with him.

  His head aching from the kind of questions he usually steered clear of, he risked another glance in her direction. She sat straight and tall in the saddle with her fingers light on the reins looking part and parcel of her mount. If she kept coming to his place like this, he’d suggest she leave one of her horses in his corral so she didn’t have to keep on borrowing.

  Some lovers left their toothbrushes at each other’s place. In Cat’s and his world, maybe horses served the same purpose.

  “Where’d your name come from?” he asked, surprising himself. “I never asked.”

  “No, you didn’t.” She wasn’t looking at him. “My folks named me after my wealthy aunt Catriona. She decided they’d done that hoping to get put in her will, which they did. My folks get off on chasing money. It’s their ultimate high.”

  Blown away by what had just spilled out of her, he waited because he sensed she might close up if he pressed. Like he did.

  “Anyway,” she finally said, “even before she called their bluff, I hated the name and refused to answer to it. Cat felt right.”

  “I like it on you.”

  “You do?” Although her eyes were down to slits against the sun, he had no trouble reading her mood. She hadn’t expected that from him. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to say it. Damn it, today was full of surprises.

  “Kind of exotic and wild.”

  “And one of the first words I learned to spell. Kind of killing two birds with one stone.”

  They laughed together, something he hadn’t done for too long. Although neither of them said anything after that, there was a welcome easiness to the silence. If he could do so without it being awkward, he’d hold her hand.

  That’s it. Just hold her hand.

  Antelope Grove was at the base of what passed for a mountain on his land. The depression spread out long and narrow for a good quarter of a mile with boulders on the north and a gully to the south. Maybe the second time he’d come here, he’d spotted several antelope eating the sagebrush that shared space with the wild grasses. Santo had told him the area didn’t have a name but he could give it one if he wanted. The hurting boy he’d been had nearly cried at the foreign notion of having something for himself.

  This was where he’d come to mourn after Santo’s violent death.

  “What is it?” Cat asked. “All of a sudden you tensed. Again.”

  Careful. Don’t let her look too deep. “Something just occurred to me.”

  “What?”

  Pulling on the reins, he stopped his gelding and turned him so he could face Cat. She did the same.

  “I’m just throwing this out,” he said. “Maybe I don’t know what I’m talking about, but Santo was one of the best horsemen I’ve ever seen, good as you.”

  Smiling slightly, she nodded. “I appreciate the comparison and the compliment. In other words, you don’t understand how he could have gotten thrown the way he did.”

  Answering her nod with one of his own, he tried to shake off the uneasy sensation crawling over his back. Damn it, he’d known coming here wouldn’t be a walk in the park. He should be prepared.

  “Exactly. Besides, his mount is one of the steadiest horses on the ranch.” Gathering his thoughts, he continued to meet Cat’s gaze. “We found her more than a mile from Santo’s body, still spooked. The way I see it, the only explanation I have is that she either bucked or reared, maybe some of both, when Santo wasn’t expecting it.”

  “Do you want to say it or should I?”

  “I started this. I have to finish it. What if his mare spotted a wolf or wolves? No matter that they’d never been part of her existence—self-preservation would have kicked in.”

  “And because it had, the only thing that mattered to Santo’s horse was getting away from the danger, starting with getting rid of the load on her back. At the same time, Santo was trying to make sense of what was happening. He was distracted.”

  Feeling half sick, Matt kneed his gelding forward because he didn’t want to look into Cat’s eyes anymore. Damn him for not having put one and one together before this.

  Only, how could he have?

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Cat said as she drew alongside. “Back then no one knew there was a pack around.”

  “A pack?” He rolled the word around in his mind. “Cat, what if it was the other thing?”

  “Other?” Eyes widening, she clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, hell, you’re talking about the big tracks, aren’t you?”

  If he said nothing, could he keep the monster-sized wolf behind a locked door in his mind? Tell himself his imagination, or insanity, was getting the better of him?

  Even ask himself if what had destroyed his father had latched on to him?

  Oh, hell, what if that nameless monstrous thing had the power to reach Cat?

  Someday, somehow she’d tell Matt how much his silences upset her, and yet would hashing over what they’d touched on make things better?

  Closing her mind to the unanswerable question, Cat concentrated on the grove just ahead. Matt hadn’t said anything about there being bunchgrass in addition to the sage, but seeing that didn’t surprise her. What did was the feeling of dread she experienced when a grove where antelope congregated should have filled her with peace. From this distance, the grove was a pastel mix of everything from muted yellow to deepest green punctuated by stark-white aspen trunks. Among the many things she’d learned about this part of Oregon was that the land was perfect for sheltering the creatures born to it.

  Hoping Matt was having the same thoughts, she slipped a glance in his direction. Far from looking at peace, every line of his body gave away his agitation. No, he shouldn’t be alone.

  Even if he jumped her as he had at her place.

  Suddenly appreciative of the rifle attached to his saddle and the pistol at his waist, she again concentrated on their surroundings. Surroundings that were doing a number on both of them.

  “Do you come here often?” she asked. “If your cattle aren’t around, I don’t imagine you have much reason.”

  “Or the time.”

  “Point taken. Not much downtime in this business, is there?”

  “None. Calving time’s the most intense, what with so many being dropped in a short period. Winter can be the hardest, especially if the hay runs out.”

  “What’s your favorite part, if you have one?”

  “Good question. Has to be calving. Having a hand in new life. Seeing those bright eyes open for the first time.”

  Listening to him, she acknowledged how rare a conversation li
ke this was between them. There was something rare and different and maybe precious today—if they could keep it going. If nothing happened.

  Despite the possibility, she had to admit that she was turned on and had been since she’d gotten out of her truck.

  Had he brought protection? Not that a lack had stopped him the last two times they’d had sex. They didn’t have so much as a blanket to lie on.

  Did he want the same thing she did? Maybe whatever was crawling around in his mind had come between him and desire.

  “I can already feel fall here,” he said, and stopped again.

  “Because of the higher elevation?”

  “That’s part of it.”

  Although she sucked in a deep breath, the air here didn’t feel any different to her. “Only part?”

  “There’s something tired about the place this time of year. As if all that sun has drained it.”

  His observation shocking her, she slid her fingers over the reins. The horse under her was already relaxing. Unless the mare took it into her head to try to graze, she’d soon fall asleep where she stood. Good. If the instinctive animal could relax, so could she.

  Wondering what might alert the mare, Cat openly studied Matt. In contrast to his gelding, with his already sagging lower lip, Matt had risen in the saddle and was looking all around. The hand not holding the reins rested on his pistol.

  “What?” she muttered. “Do you hear or see something?”

  “No. And that’s the hell of it.”

  About to ask for an explanation, she admitted that something was biting at her spine. Tension. The feeling she got on those rare occasions when something woke her in the middle of the night. Maybe she was simply feeding off whatever was bothering Matt. One way to find out was by turning her back on him and imagining two naked bodies rolling around on the grass. The perfect distraction.

  Unlike the last two times they’d had sex, today they’d be in sync. They’d move as one, turning onto their sides at the same time, her upper leg hooking over his hip. Sweat would bleed into sweat, her hair sticking to her temples while his danced with each thrust. She’d gnaw on his collarbone, lap at his chest while bracing for his assault. There’d be no howling on his part this time, no mindless masculine attack while she ricocheted between excitement and alarm. Only sex. Fucking. Back to what they’d had before the wolves arrived.

  An image of long, tearing teeth and savage yellow eyes pulled her back to Antelope Grove. Her mare had lifted her head and pointed her ears at Matt. Although he was no longer standing in the stirrups, he hadn’t relaxed. There was a resigned air about him.

  “What is it?” she whispered. “When we were at your place, I got the impression you wish you didn’t have to come here.”

  “Did I?”

  Don’t give me that silent-cowboy nonsense. “Why not? It sounds as if this used to be a favorite place of yours.”

  “It was.”

  “What changed things?”

  Sighing, he dismounted and left the reins on the ground as a signal to his well-trained gelding that he was to stay put. She followed suit. Keeping to her own space would be easier, but if she touched Matt, she might get him to open up. At least he didn’t back away when she brushed her knuckles over his cheek.

  “I don’t want you thinking I’d ever say you’re acting crazy but—”

  “Crazy? What makes you say that?”

  “Nothing. Wrong choice of words. I’m sorry.”

  Despite her apology, he didn’t look convinced.

  “Matt, we all do things we have trouble explaining. That’s all I was trying to say.”

  To her relief, he placed his hand over hers. “This isn’t easy, Cat.”

  Her name coming from Matt tied her in a sensual knot. If only they could go back to what they’d had before. “Things have been rough the past few days. We’re still reeling.”

  “That’s not it, not the only thing. Hell, maybe if I don’t say anything, I won’t have to face it.”

  “It?”

  “Yeah.”

  You’re not helping. “Okay, I’ll tell you what I’m thinking. If I’m wrong, you can straighten me out and I promise I’ll stop trying to play shrink. Coming here should be a practical matter, right? Something you do all the time. But it isn’t that simple. There’s something going on inside you. I don’t know what it is, don’t know how to get you to open up. All I’m asking is for you to explain some things. You stood over a torn-apart calf and took some nerve-racking pictures. You aren’t a man who scares easily.”

  “No, I’m not. Not anymore.”

  Before she could think how, or if, to ask him to explain, he closed his fingers around hers and brought their hands to his side. Her knuckles brushed his hip, adding fuel to her flames.

  “Okay.” He sucked in air. “I’ve been having this dream, if I can call it that.”

  “Dream?” she repeated, feeling stupid and near the edge of self-control at the same time. Having to acknowledge how a simple touch could get to her like this unnerved her.

  Matt was returning her stare and yet he wasn’t, his eyes holding with hers while she had no doubt his thoughts resided elsewhere. “The thing hits when I least expect it. That’s why dream isn’t the right word.”

  “I need more, please.”

  “I know. It happened twice last night, first when I was trying to figure out how much hay I was going to need now that I’ve increased the herd, then later while I was brushing my teeth. This morning I’d just stepped out of the shower when I forgot what I was doing. Where I was.”

  He’d been naked this morning, water dripping off his hard body, his hair glistening, thin rivulets rolling over his belly and parted by his cock. His erection. “What comes over you?” she asked around her thudding heart.

  Releasing her, he took a half-dozen long-legged strides before facing her. Trapped, his body said. No way out of this except the truth. “The wolf. The big one. Alone and staring at me. He’s always at a higher elevation. Making me feel small.”

  Small? Matt? Never. She clenched her hands to keep them from shaking but couldn’t do anything to quiet her short-circuiting nerves. The instant before penetration was like this for her, losing control of so much.

  “How, ah, how big is he?”

  Matt rocked back as if waiting for her to make fun of him, which was the last thing she’d ever do. “Hard to tell. My perception’s off during those times. Part of me says this isn’t happening, that I’ve been drinking when I haven’t. The rest is so deep in the moment that I’ve lost objectivity.”

  A short-lived breeze made the aspens rattle. She wondered if they were truly alone. “How long has this been going on?”

  “Since we found the tracks.” His mouth became a harsh slash, and he shook his head as if trying to escape something. “No, that’s not the truth.”

  This man with his god-sexy body and eyes that reminded her of thunder had nearly lied to her? No, not lied. Avoided exposing himself and frightening her.

  “What is?” she asked when his mouth remained closed.

  “Cat, I’ve been having images, or whatever the hell they are, since Santo’s accident, if that’s what it was. I chalked them up to losing him. Now I’m not so sure.”

  His slow and hesitant delivery filled her with longing. She wanted—hell, she needed—to touch him. To wrap her arms around him and protect him. But he needed to stand alone until he was finished. Otherwise . . . hell, they both knew what might happen once they touched.

  “Is that it?” she asked, hoping to get him started again. “The wolf shows up. It watches you. Just that? There’s nothing menacing in its behavior, no attack?”

  “I wish.”

  Matt was positioned so the grove was behind him. It was only her emotions getting the best of her; still, it wouldn’t take much for the wild and remote area to surround and swallow him. Take him from her.

  “You wish?”

  “Crazy, isn’t it.” He dragged his hand down his
face.

  “There’s that damned word again. What doesn’t make sense is I’m not afraid of him. Fascinated. In awe. I know that what’s going to happen won’t be good, but at first I just feel blessed.”

  Don’t speak. Just listen.

  “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one who knows about the wolf’s existence. I don’t understand why I’ve been chosen, but I can wait for an explanation. I know it’s coming, just not when. I stand there waiting and watching as he slowly approaches.” He shook his head. “When only a few feet separate us, I realize I don’t feel his breath.”

  Maybe Matt wasn’t aware that his voice had dropped, forcing her to lean toward him in order to hear. Something about the man now frightened her.

  “That’s significant?” she belatedly asked.

  “Yeah. I think.” When he again looked at her, she turned cold because his beautiful dark eyes now carried a light she’d never seen. “I hold my hand up to his nose and wait, but there’s no breath, nothing to make me think he’s alive.”

  Moments ago she’d been sweating under the afternoon sunlight. No longer. “How far are you from him?”

  “Not far enough.” He closed his eyes. “Suddenly his fangs sink into my shoulder.

  “Fortunately, the bite doesn’t hurt,” Matt continued. “I tell myself that it can’t be because I’ve started bleeding. Then he lets go, and I pull off my shirt.”

  “What do you see?” she asked when the silence again went on too long.

  “Puncture marks.”

  “Do you feel pain now?”

  “No. Instead of hating the wolf or spirit or whatever it is for what he’s done, I’m grateful.”

  Spirit? Was that possible? Rocked by the notion that Matt might be losing his mind—he’d reacted to the word crazy, hadn’t he?—she forced herself into his space and clutched his shirt at the neck. Forcing herself, she pulled it off his shoulder.

  Nothing. Only the magnificent flesh, muscle, and bone she’d repeatedly lost herself in. Then Matt settled his hands over her hips, and two deep, dark red punctures appeared. Past trying to comprehend, she twisted out of his grip. Growling, he reached for her.