Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3) (10 page)

Watch. Learn. Listen.

If she still had hands, she’d have held them over her ears.

Listen,
the wolf insisted, and its voice grew more urgent.
Listen to the night. The warning.

The beast cocked its head, lifted its ears, and Stef had no choice but to tune in.

The beating bass drum of the moon formed the underlying pulse of the night. But under it—no, behind it, beyond the horizon—came a faint metallic tap along with a tobacco-laced scent.

Her wolf froze when she recognized it. Ron. Honing in on her.

Ron. Coming to claim.

She could have screamed until she was hoarse, but the only sound that emerged was a canine snarl.

Watch. Listen. Be warned.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Lee and Chavez were still droning on as Kyle worked his jaw back and forth, fighting memories away.

And not just memories. He was getting totally inappropriate fantasies, too. Like holding Stefanie closer than close. Peeling off layers of denim and cotton to touch her, taste her, bury himself in her. To let instinct take over and make them both howl in sweaty pleasure. But Jesus, it wasn’t right to think thoughts like those, not about the girl next door.

Except that the wolf liked those thoughts. He liked them very much.

The first weeks as a Changeling—for those who survived, anyway—could wreak havoc on the body. That was probably what his wolf was responding to. Right?

His wolf grunted and flopped to the floor in his mental doghouse.
When are you going to get it, man?

There was nothing to get. Emotion couldn’t have anything to do with it. He wouldn’t let it, damn it! Because he didn’t want or need anyone. And neither did Stefanie. All she needed was to get out of this mess.

So he’d help her, damn it. He’d see her through this, and then send her off to make a new life for herself. One he wouldn’t have a part in, because why would she want him?

“Get out of this office before the chief sees you, man,” Lee persisted.

Kyle gave him the evil eye, wishing they’d stop harping on him. Work was all he had. All he wanted.

“Hey, Kyle.” That was Andie, and her voice was soft. “You really ought to take a break.”

He’d give himself a break when Stef was safe, and not a minute sooner.

“Sure,” he mumbled, making for the door.

Lee was right. The office wasn’t what he needed, so he left, briefly considering Chavez’s advice to head to a bar and let a woman take him to bed. That would work off some of the wolf’s misplaced energy. It had been a while since he’d cruised the bars—since his drinking buddy, Cody, had given up the playboy act for a mate and the role he was born to: second-in-command of Twin Moon pack. But Kyle had no such responsibilities. Why not make up for lost time?

The answer came right on the heels of the question. It wasn’t
why not
but
why
? He didn’t want just any woman. Didn’t want a superficial thrill.

He blinked at the roads and found himself heading home. To her.

To her,
his wolf agreed.

When he pulled up at his house twenty minutes later, the beast was practically wagging his tail. But the minute he got one foot out the car door, he froze. The scent of wolf was everywhere. The scent of danger.

His wolf almost tore out of his skin then and there, though he forced a slow 360-degree turn first, sniffing the air. A moment later, he did the same in wolf form, drawing in the scent, ready to hunt the intruder and make him pay. The saliva was already building behind his growl and his hair was standing on end.

As his nose dissected the scent, though, he found it familiar.

Pleasing. Feminine.

His curse came out as a low bark. That wolf was Stefanie, and she was gone.

In a flash, the anger coursing through him flipped right over to fear. Where was she? Was she all right? Not every human could survive the first shift and become a full were. All along he’d been putting the thought off, counting on Stef to be strong enough to be the exception. But now that it had happened, he was seized with doubt. Jesus, what if she didn’t make it?

He sprinted off, tracking the fresh trail, crazy with fear. He remembered the shock of his first transformation, the tearing physical pain. He’d been by turns suicidal and homicidal his first few times, consumed by the uncontrollable urges splitting his mind. Would Stefanie be the same? Maybe it would be even worse for her. Maybe she’d fold under the pressure…

He remembered the voices that had whispered over his prone form when he’d first come to the ranch, an utter wreck.

A Changeling.

Christ, what a mess.

Will he make it?

Unlikely. They hardly ever do.

Someone had kicked the dirt and sighed.

They hardly ever do.

He thundered past a briar patch, ignoring the thorns ripping at his fur. What the hell had he been thinking, leaving Stef alone on a full moon? He should have stayed and helped her through the night. He couldn’t count the times she’d hunkered down with him as a kid, the number of secrets she’d kept for him. There’d been at least one for every bruise his stepfather put on his body.

And yet when she needed him most, he’d run away.

He charged through the night, chasing unbearable images. Like Stefanie, unable to handle the shift and going feral, a mad wolf that would have to be hunted and killed. Or Stef, lying dead because her body fought the transition too hard.

He came to a skidding halt on the next rise, spotting a soft shape curled by a boulder halfway down the slope. He shuffled forward toward the brown-beige wolf and sniffed anxiously. It was her, his brown-eyed girl. Except those eyes were closed, the breathing shallow. Her heartbeat was a faint tap in the night. He licked her muzzle then curled his body around hers, desperate for some sign that she was all right. But there was no sign, only that faint, distant beat. All he could do was keep her close. He puffed out his fur, trapping warm air and doing his best to block out the moonlight along with dark thoughts.

What if she died? What if she failed to recover? What if?

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Stefanie found herself floating unsteadily over the desert landscape, knowing it was a dream. Something tickled her nostrils, though, and that part felt real. She wrinkled her nose, wishing reality away. Drifting in a void was preferable to facing the harsh truth.

Like wolf. Werewolf.

With a snort and a sneeze, she tried to settle back into nothingness, but something pulled her back. Even through the haze that clogged her mind, she knew something was different. The desert had gone silent again. The moon had rolled to the other side of the sky, pulling the constellations with it. Color filled in her vision again while her other senses had gone dull. Her fingertips were cold, trembling.

Fingers. Hands. She blinked, holding them up.

Human.

She was herself again, curled in a ball. Shivering. The wolf that had taken over was gone. She didn’t know whether she should cry with relief or scream her sorrow into the night. All that came were tears that welled up from a deep, dark place of doubt. They spilled down her cheeks as her breath came out in great, choking sobs that protested what had been forced upon her. She wasn’t herself any more. The crushing emptiness of night weighed down on her as she lay lost and alone.

Except she wasn’t alone. A strong, safe something covered her back, and she knew without looking that it was Kyle, wrapped around her like a winter coat.

“Hey,” he whispered, again and again. “You’re okay.”

He must have been there a while because that hug was warmer than five or ten minutes old. How long didn’t matter and neither did how. Only that she wasn’t alone.

“It’s okay.”

She cried in sorrow and relief until the wracking sobs wore themselves out and she could match her breathing to the rise and fall of his chest. He was warm and hard but soft, too, that outer layer of pliant skin backed by a foundation of steely muscle, all of it molded carefully to her lines. For a short time at least, she could pretend something about this was normal. Never mind that she was up a mountainside in the dark. Never mind that she was wrapped in a stranger’s arms.

No, not a stranger. A friend. An old friend. She was herself again, and everything was all right. The stars shining brightly overhead told her so. They had that look again, like she’d hit the angle on them just right.

So right, in fact, that when the gradual awareness that she was naked, and Kyle was too, set in, it soothed instead of frightened and set off a low thrum in her core. She turned and slid along his body until her face was hidden in his neck. The jagged line of his scars pressed into her bare skin, but even that felt good. Fresh and homey, he smelled like sage and sunflower intertwined.

Her fingers stroked his chest, her chin tilted up, and it was the most natural thing in the world to lift and kiss.

His lips were as soft as his body was hard, and it was just like her dream in the guesthouse: that feeling of sliding into a deep, warm bath. Nudging closer, she followed the blind, building need. Her tongue traced the line of his teeth, and yes, they were as perfectly straight as they looked. She lifted her eyes and found Kyle’s eyes alive with flashes of gold.

Friend,
she thought.
So good to have a friend.

Mate,
said a whisper, a voice in the night.

Claim!
added a husky contralto she suspected might be the wolf.

“Kyle,” she whispered, and even his name felt perfect on her lips.

The gold hadn’t been in his eyes when she’d known him before. Whatever it was, it came out with extremes. When he was angry, frustrated, thrilled. Or like now: aroused. She could smell it, see it, taste it on his lips, even though she sensed him trying to beat it back. Because he was a friend; because of that beautifully outdated honor code of his.

“Kyle.” She pushed closer, suddenly giving in to a rush of frustration. For the past week, her life had been wildly out of control. Now, everything became the here, the now, the him.

His lips were moving but failing to form words, his body radiating heat. She couldn’t stop herself from straddling his hips. Her mouth closed over his, desperately seeking with her tongue. Seeking and finding some tiny grain of truth—that they belonged together. That this heat building between them was a sign that everything would be all right.

She rocked over him. Full and thick, his cock pulsed against her sex and an overwhelming craving for more consumed her. Kyle groaned beneath her—a low, straining sound that said he wanted this as much as she did. She pushed her breasts into his chest, settled deeper into his lap, and stroked her tongue over his lips. What would it take to unravel this man?

“Kyle, please,” she begged, and didn’t even berate herself for her weakness. Weakness was crying; strength was the ability to ask for what she needed.

Him.

She turned her lips on his ear, and a shudder went through him. Kyle pulled back just long enough to give her one smoldering look then smothered her lips with his, ravaging her mouth with an intensity that rivaled hers. When his hand swept up her body and cupped a breast, she trembled. Willing him to take the next step, she rocked her hips over his, trying to latch on to him. Letting body language do the begging.

Please. Now. Take me.
Because not having him now would shatter her. She’d suffered through a crazy week alone, and now all she wanted was him.

Mate. Claim!

He dipped his head to her breast and the moist contact was like a kiss to the soul. The rub of his thumb dialed up her desire, and she swore her nipples would jump right off her body. He could swallow them whole, nibble them up, and she still wouldn’t get enough.

Oh God, she was wet. Wet and aching for that moment when two became one.

“Stef,” Kyle whispered. His lips tickled her ear. “Be sure.”

“I’m sure. Believe me, I’m sure.”

She nibbled on his jaw, his ear, his lower lip. In a week of being sure of nothing, he was her shining light.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes so long, she swore she might find her climax in the golden-edged blue. Even more so when he inched his hand between them and cupped her mound.

She couldn’t help it; she had to cry his name. Had to tell him how good it felt to have him this close. How desperate she was to find more than a friend on this lonely desert night. She would have begged if he hadn’t slipped a finger between her folds then dragged it forward to find her clit. The man was driving her right up a spiral staircase to the top floor.

“You like that.” A statement, not a question.

She couldn’t respond, except in short syllables in her mind.
More. Need. Inside.

He pushed a finger inside her and immediately added a second. She was that wide, that ready. Her back was arched so far back, her fingers barely touched his shoulders. His left hand held her tightly while his right worked its magic. She peeked and found his face intent, like he was taking a test instead of getting her off. Like he wanted to get it exactly right.

“You like this?” he whispered.

“God, I love that.”

Didn’t he know he couldn’t fail? Not with her. Never. He’d always been like that, though. Supremely confident in some things, ridiculously anxious about a handful of secret weaknesses.

She thought the rumble she heard was him, but the quiet space between two breaths said it was her—or the wolf in her. She shivered, half thrilled, half afraid.

“Kyle. I need you.”

His lips went tight, but his eyes said,
I need you. I want you.

She rode his hand until her insides were twisted so tight, she couldn’t take it any more. With an insistent nudge of the hips, she pushed straight past his hand and toward his cock, grinding onto him.

She cried out as his thick cock slid inside and barely registered his husky
Yes
. Every muscle in her body went limp except those sheathing him now, because that was all that mattered.