Sadie
Page 2
I glance at the floorboard.
The grip of the handgun I swiped from Mr. Greene peeks out from under the seat and glistens in the moonlight.
“I don’t have all night.” His voice has a low, throaty pitch to it, almost a growl.
“Just a minute.” I press a finger against the lever and roll the window a third of the way down.
“Are you okay?” His voice is deep. It has a baritone ring to it.
“Yeah.” I glance up.
If guessing, he seems my age, maybe older, but not by much—high school age.
There’s something about the tone that puts me at ease, and the tension in my shoulders roll away.
“What about you?” The thought of almost hitting someone on a motorcycle, because I was attending to my stupid phone instead of the road, makes the muscles in my abdomen contract.
He nods once. “Good. Then do you mind telling me what the hell you were doing in the middle of the road?”
“Excuse me?” Tension creeps up into my neck and shoulders.
“Do I need to repeat the question?”
“My GPS lost connection.” I swallow hard. “It was restarting.” A cold sweat lines my brow. Nervously, I wipe my sweaty palms on my skirt. “Uhm, I guess I veered out of the lane.”
Staring at the stranger, I’m unable to read him, which is odd. Usually, I’m quick to make a decision, and generally, my choice is a solid one and spot on.
“You think?”
“Look. I’m sorry.” I cast my eyes down, avoiding his probing stare. The tip of my index finger rests on the window control. “I didn’t mean to—”
“—I haven’t seen you around before. Where’re you headed?”
“Kensington Cove.”
“Are you moving?”
“What?”
“The clothes in the back.” He holds my gaze.
“Yeah.” My grip on the wheel tightens.
“So, you have family in town?”
“Something like that.”
He rubs his jaw, then clears his throat. “Are you stuck?”
“What?”
“The car? Are you stuck in the mud?”
“Oh, I don’t think so.”
He glances at the tires, shakes his head, and then backs away from the car. “If you have enough traction to pull out of the ditch, I’ll show you where the turn is.”
Mist covers the window, hindering my view.
A dog or wolf howls in the distances, and the fine hairs on the nape of my neck stand on end.
“Please, don’t be stuck.” I slide the gear in drive and give the car gas.
The tires spin, sending a geyser of mud spewing into the air. I back off the gas, then try it again.
“Stop.” He walks to the car and taps the hood. “You’re not going anywhere in this tonight.”
I slide the car into park. “Shit,” I say, barely above a whisper.
Leaning over, I pick up my phone.
“Zero bars, really? Great. Stranded out in the middle of nowhere with nothing around but a guy in leather.” I flip on the windshield wipers, then follow his movements.
“You’re gonna need a tow. But at least it starts.” He makes his way around the front of the bumper which is held together by duct tape and bungee rope. “Where’d you get this death trap?”
“Craig’s List. I scooped ice cream all summer to buy it.”
Why the hell did I tell him that? It’s not like he needs my life story.
“It’s dark.” I glance around for signs, mile markers, or any connection to civilization, but come up empty-handed.
“Yeah.” He cracks a grin and a dimple in his left cheek winks. “Usually is at night.”
“Well, hell, lookie here, I got myself a real comedian.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “I meant I don’t see any city lights.”
“What’s your name?” He stoops close to the opened window.
I hesitate, unsure if I should answer the question or not, and then blurt out, “Sadie. Sadie Reed.”
Way to go. Tell the killer comedian your name, idiot.
“I’m Ethan Cotter.” A single eyebrow shoots up in amusement. “The way I see it, I can give you a lift, or you can stay here with no reception.” He leans in through the window.
Another howl reverberates. But this time, the call is closer.
My eyes widen, and I swallow hard. “Was that a dog, coyote . . . wolf?
“A gray wolf. Come on, and I’ll give you a lift, city girl.”
I lock gazes with him. His eyes. They’re a piercing grayish blue. I hadn’t noticed before.
“And don’t worry, I won’t bite unless you want me to.”
A small wolfish grin washes across his lips, exposing a row of straight, white teeth.
“Yeah. Thanks. That’s reassuring.”
“So, what’s it going to be, Sadie Reed? Are you staying—or what?”
I take a deep breath, pause to think, and then grab my keys. Reaching over the seat, I scoop up the contents of my purse—gun and all—then open the door.
Chapter Four
Ethan Cotter
LONG LEGS connected to a well-defined body step out of the Infinity. Once standing, the owner of the legs tugs on the black flowing skirt that covers half of her bare, milky-white thighs.
For her short stature, hers go on for miles and demand my full attention. My eyes travel the length of her frame, starting with her white tennis shoes and short socks.
The curve of her calves flows to supple, trim knees that lead to the tone, muscular, mouthwatering thighs I can’t tear my eyes from.
Thighs I like to wrap my arms around.
“Fuck,” I breathe under my breath. Fluid, more like drool, builds in my mouth, forcing me to swallow.
Get a grip, man, and stop salivating, I tell my inner wolf.
I take in the form-fitted blue tank top hugging her athletic body.
The wolf inside me continues to stir. It can hear the erratic heartbeats pounding in her chest.
A palatable mixture of fear and faint arousal swirl in the air, driving my beast to the edge of a frenzy. At this moment, all it wants is to smell her, taste her, to stake a claim to what it desires.
“Come on.” I smack my lips, relishing the savory taste. “It’s getting darker.”
“Uh, okay.” She checks the driver’s side door, once, twice, three times.
“Yeah. It’s locked already.”
Nervous energy flows from her pores, making her fidgety.
“My stuff’s in the back. What if someone—”
“No one will mess with it.” I slow my pace, allowing her to take a step in front of me. “So, don’t stress.”
“It’s all I have.” Her voice cracks, revealing a layer of vulnerability that draws my inner beast closer.
“Where’d you say you came from?”
She swallows hard. “I didn’t.” Apprehension builds a wall between me and her and raises her tension level.
A glance over my shoulder reveals an old, fraying bumper sticker, ‘Julian Castro’ for mayor.
San Antonio, Texas—I was right, a city girl.
On the walk to the bike, my eyes drink in the sway of her hips. The rhythmic motion draws my inner beast in for a closer view.
Above the crease of the back of her knee, a birthmark with fluted, petal like edges offers a sharp contrast to her pale flesh.
Is it even or ridged? My tongue tingles at the thought of caressing the borders.
The wind gusts pick up, swishing her skirt against her thighs.
She smooths out the fabric and struggles to hold it down.
A mist covers her body and goosebumps erupt on her skin.
Humans run cooler than lupines and lose more of their warmth in the cold—an event that in my youth often left me perplexed.
“Cold?” My beast picks up her increased respirations, and zeros in on her trembling, lower lip.
“Yeah.” She adjusts the strap of her backpack purs
e. The weight sends the strap of her tank sliding over her shoulder, revealing a pink sports bra.
My canines ache under the gumline, begging for release, and I struggle to remain in control.
Back off, I tell my inner wolf. What the hell, man?
I’ve never wanted to bite anyone or anything, and now, five minutes after meeting City, my beast wants to mark her.
“Put it on.” I slide my jacket off. “Trust me. You’ll need it more than me.”
She hesitates, takes the garment from my hand, and then slips it on. “Thanks.” A faint flush brings color to her cheeks.
“Welcome.”
The cuffs hang below her fingertips, but she rolls them to her wrists, revealing slender fingers without jewelry.
Not taken. My inner beast stirs.
“I didn’t think it’d be chilly this week, well, today.”
She’s about five-foot, six inches with a toned build, which is just how I like my females.
“That’s Texas weather for you.” I mount the bike. “Hop on.” With a wave of a hand, I motion for her to sit.
“You don’t wear a helmet?” Her growing fear lingers in the air, and my beast sips on it.
“No. Never have, but I’ve never needed one, either.” My eyes rake up and down her body.
The wolf continues to drink in her alluring scent, which makes my dick stir.
“Have you ever been on a bike before?” I’ve never smelled something or someone as sweet and tantalizing as this little morsel.
“No.” She shakes her head, then nervously bites her lower lip. “Well, a dirt bike. Does that count?”
“Not so much.” I wink and continue to struggle to maintain control. “I’ll take it slow. Promise.”
Slow isn’t what me or my beast wants right now. And in defiance, the wolf silently howls, demanding release.
“Okay.” She fidgets with the zipper and bites down on her lower lip once more.
A low, throaty growl escapes my mouth because I’d like to be the one nibbling on that full, lush lip. And right now, all the beast wants to do—what I want to do—is draw her into my arms and possess her. Well, that and hold her hips steady as I . . .
Fuck. Get a grip on your inner beast, I think to myself.
“Need some help?” I can’t peel my eyes away from her legs.
“I think I can—”
I reigh in the wolf’s libido, which now has my dick standing at attention and begging.
“Let me.” Reaching out, I take hold of the bottom of the leather jacket—my jacket—which she’s now wearing, and I coax her closer to my frame. “There’s a trick to it.”
She palms my forearms, steading herself, and I relish her warmth.
“Is it safe to be on the road?” Her eyes widen like a doe caught in a crossbeam of headlights. “You know, with the weather and all?” She blinks several times. “If it’s not far, we could walk, right?”
“Not a good idea.” Thoughts of the rogue lupine invade my mind. “Country life is far different from the city after dark.”
“Oh.” She parses her lips.
I zip the garment, covering the curves of her breasts and then snap the lower section of the waistband that falls well below her hips.
“Come on. It’s getting darker and wetter.”
Sadie takes in a deep breath, then sighs. “There’s a first time for everything.” Tentatively, she straddles the bike. “Or so I’ve heard.”
She scoots back as far as she can, but not before her skirt exposes even more of her thighs.
Tugging at the fabric, she wiggles in the seat, trying to cover her legs.
“I already told you.” A chuckle escapes my lips. “I won’t bite unless you want me to.”
Fuck. What the hell’s wrong with me?
I shouldn’t be toying with her like this. It’s not as if she understands what it means to be marked or claimed by a wolf—to be someone’s mate. But if she knew what I was, what I was capable of, she’d run the other way and never look back.
“You’re going to have to hold on to me.” I grab one of her hands and place it on my waist.
The contact makes my body buzz.
When I start the engine, she jumps and clings to the sides of my T-shirt.
“Have you ever, you know, wrecked?”
“No. Now, scoot up, so you don’t fall off.”
Sadie inches near but keeps a respectable distance from my frame.
“More.” The beast within lurks. Anticipation builds. “So, you can wrap your arms around my waist.”
She wiggles on the seat, drawing closer, and then laces her fingers above my navel.
“That’s it.” I draw in a deep breath, relishing her scent.
Pulling on to the road, I gradually increase the speed, giving her time to adjust to the movement of the bike.
“This isn’t so bad.” A carefree giggle passes her lips.
The road ahead winds around.
“Hold on tight.” I approach the first deep curve, and Sadie slides up the seat.
She wraps her arms around my waist, pressing her warm thighs, abdomen, and breasts against my frame. Her body molds to mine, and the sweet aroma of her growing arousal replaces the fear of the unknown.
“Got you.” The wolf inside me grins.
Chapter Five
Sadie Reed
WHISPS OF HIS HAIR tickle my face.
He smells like earth; woody, musky, coconutty, with a hint of patchouli, star anise, tonka bean, and vanilla.
On the open road, I feel free, unburdened by the strings of my former life.
Live in the future, I think to myself, and leave the past where it belongs.
The vibration of the power between my legs sends a shiver the length of my spine.
“You doin’ okay?” The rich undertones of his voice cuts through the sound of the revving engine.
“Oh, my God.” A squeal leaves my lips. “I’m more than okay.”
Riding on the back of the motorcycle is exhilarating but frightening at the same time.
I’ve been on dirt bikes before, but nothing, thus far, compares to the thrill of riding on the open road.
Well, on a motorcycle with a hot guy with rock hard abs.
He comes to another turn, rounds the corner, and my grip on his shirt slips, and my butt slides across the smooth leather of the seat.
Fear shoots through me.
“Hold on tight.” One handed, he steers, placing the other behind him, cradling me to his back.
I squeeze my thighs, pressing them against his jeans. Wrapping my arms around him, my hands slide under the hem of his shirt.
My fingers grip his abdomen.
His muscles ripple and contract under my touch, making the tips of my fingers sensitive and tingle.
I feel a pull in my belly as if hundreds of butterfly wings take flight, fluttering about. Something’s happening, I can feel it.
The guy, the bike, the mist—my mind wanders—somehow, it all seems familiar, but it can’t be.
Yet, I feel a connection akin to déjà vu. It’s as if on this hour, this day, this moment, fate intervened, bringing me and him together as one.
Great. Now I sound like a mystic eight ball.
My fingers fan over his right peck. A nail grazes his nipple, and he takes in a sharp breath.
A low, throaty growl reverberates deep in his chest.
The sound makes my heart flutter, and a small smile graces my lips.
At least now, I know I’m not the only one who feels the strong sexual pull.
Ethan comes to a three-way stop.
I wobble on the seat and move a leg. Toes pointed. I reach for the asphalt.
“No. Keep your foot on the peg.” He slides a hand across the side of my thigh, holding me in place. “Or you’ll throw off the balance.”
“Sorry.” I raise my leg and rest the sole of my shoe on the peg, once again.
“Don’t be.” His touch makes me acutely aware of how intimate
ly I’m pressed against him. “Now, you know.”
When he relinquishes his hold, he brushes the tips of his fingers up the side of my thigh, and my skin erupts in goosebumps.
“Uhm. It’s dark.” The mist, now replaced by rain, hinders my visibility. “I don’t see any lights yet.”
“So, you gonna tell me where you’re from, or do I need to guess?”
“San Antonio, Texas.”
“Well, you won’t find any city lights out here, at least, not until we’re closer to town, which is that way.” He points to the highway. “And even those are minute.” He pauses. “So, Sadie Reed, what’s our destination?” His voice is thick and desire-ridden.
“What?”
“Who’re you visiting in Kensington Cove? Where are we going?”
“Actually, it’s not in the city. It’s the Novak Ranch.”
Ethan glances over his shoulder, and his brows shoot up. “You don’t say?”
He takes off, and shards of rain blow in my face. I press my cheek against his back, using him as a shield.
Drawing in a deep breath, I breathe in his scent. Even in the rain, that earthy aroma exudes undiluted from his body. It’s a smell I could get used to really quick.
After turning down a gravel road, Ethan travels another three-quarters of a mile. A line of trees—mainly oak, ash, and cedar, which led to dense forest—line the packed caliche path.
In the city, the rain smells of diluted exhaust, trash, and the meat packing plant near the apartments I lived in with the Greene family.
“It’s just over the hill.” Wind howls through the trees, making it hard to hear his voice.
The top of the incline provides a glimpse of a fog-infused clearing. A faint outline of a roof appears followed by a large building.
Fog, thick and wet to the touch, lingers, making the air heavy.
“Why’s it so dark?”
At the end of the driveway, stands a two-story house, a barn, and a large covered carport with a truck, a tractor, and what could be a mini bulldozer if I were to guess.
Ethan parks the motorcycle under the carport. “I haven’t seen lights coming from this place in months.”
“Oh. Did you ever visit the owner, Roman Novak?” I loosen my hold.
Cold air blows between my body and his, and I shiver.