Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3) (5 page)

“Skinwalker,” she whispered, forcing her eyes open.

Tina rewarded her with a sympathetic smile. “Shifter.”

She wobbled slightly. “Werewolf?”

“Humans use that word,” Tina said, “but it comes with so many myths; we prefer shifter.”

Right, myths. Werewolf myths. And then there was that part about humans. Like there was an us and a them.

Kyle, she noticed, started rubbing his scarred shoulder.

One bite turns…
She touched her neck gingerly. The gash Ron had ripped into her throat had healed far too quickly to be normal.

“So I’ll turn into…” She wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. “Into…” She broke off again, backing toward the door. Her eyes darted around the room then locked in on Kyle’s. There—the next best thing to running outside and gulping fresh air: looking into those baby blues.

They can help. I can help.

She concentrated there, watching the gold flicker like so many fireflies as she tried to regain her control. “Turn. Change. How?” she demanded.

“The first bite turns,” Tina explained as calmly as if she were pouring tea at a ladies’ luncheon. “The second bite mates.”

“Mates.” She parried the verb away, unwilling to accept it.

“Wolves don’t marry. We mate. For life.”

Okay, that part didn’t sound as twisted as the rest. Until Tina dropped the other shoe, that is.

“Wolves don’t bite humans just to turn them. This Ron wanted you as his mate.”

Stef pretended to keep her composure despite the ice sliding down her spine. “Well, too bad for him.”

But Tina was shaking her head sadly. “Wolves don’t give up when it comes to mates.”

She saw Ty’s eyes flick to Lana’s and fill with a fiery vow that promised death and destruction to anyone who tried to part them. Cody’s eyes were focused somewhere far out a window on the south side, while Tina seemed wistful.

Kyle, on the other hand, looked straight at her with golden fireworks shooting around his eyes.

She shook herself a little. Yes, she could believe in a special link between mates. Which was fine for two people who wanted each other—but she didn’t want anything to do with Ron.

“I won’t go with him,” she said so loudly, it was nearly a shout.

“It’s not that simple,” Cody said. “Technically, that bite puts you in his pack.”

She gaped. “The North Ridge pack?”

Tina nodded, looking grim. Clearly, they weren’t telling her everything about their Colorado brethren.

“I won’t go.”

“You belong to them,” Tina said.

Kyle slid close enough that she could feel his body heat, but even that didn’t help.

“I belong?” She was shouting now. What the hell was this? “I belong to no one. No pack.”

Ty put up a hand, and everyone went still. “Listen, we’ll do what we can. But this is the way it is. His bite marked you as a member of his pack, and every wolf needs a pack.”

Everyone in the room nodded except for her and Kyle. “I don’t need a pack! I don’t want a pack!”

The outburst only earned her looks of sympathy or disbelief.

“The need will start to pull you in after your first couple of changes,” Tina said. “Besides, a lone female wolf is an easy target. If you don’t belong to a pack, any male can claim you with a bite. That’s the second bite. Unclaimed females who belong to a pack are usually left alone, but lone wolves…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Stef paled, picturing Ron. What kind of crazy medieval world had she just stepped into? And where the hell was the way out?

Ty and Cody were exchanging looks the way other people exchanged words, only no sound came out. Then Ty gave a curt nod and addressed everyone in the room—everyone but her. “Right now, we have to decide where to keep her.”

“Keep me?” Her face went hot.

“Safe,” Lana rushed to add, shooting Ty another look.

“Keep you safe,” Kyle echoed, his eyes shining.

She’d never feel safe among these people—these wolves. Her throat tightened as her hands twisted the fabric of her shirt.

“Why don’t you show Stefanie around, Kyle?” Cody said, his voice like bottled calm, uncorked just for this occasion. “We can meet again after lunch.”

She race-walked to the door and shot out into daylight with Kyle half a step behind and let the sun fill her with the warmth that had seeped away with every terrifying word. Words like shifter, werewolf, and mate. She paced away from the building, away from the central square, seeking the open desert and some sense of calm.

Kyle stayed with her, silent and steady as a faithful dog, letting her determine the way. She found a dirt track and made for the top of a ridge where she sucked in the views and told herself not to run.

Yet.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“So what happens now?” she blurted. “I grow fangs and fur? I howl at the moon?”

Silence answered—that vast, squeezing silence of the desert, where only the wind whispered through the brush. She would have screamed in frustration if Kyle hadn’t finally murmured a reply.

“We don’t howl at the moon.”

We? She wasn’t sure she wanted to be included in that club.

From the corner of her eye, she saw him run an uncertain hand through his hair, making the short ends spike even more.

“We howl to…get things out.”

“Like what?”

Kyle kicked a rock into the undergrowth then shrugged. “Things you can’t put in words.”

She was about to shout something about having a lot of words to speak right now—four-letter words—until she saw his face. Drawn and dark, he stood staring at something in his past. What things did Kyle have to say that couldn’t be put into words? Did it have to do with the fact that he lived alone, so far from the rest? If wolves were social creatures who needed a pack, what kept him apart? Kyle had always kept to himself, though, even as a kid. Why?

A thousand questions she couldn’t ask. Maybe she should try howling them to the moon sometime.

So not funny,
said that inner voice that seemed to get louder with each passing hour. She set off walking again, going somewhere—anywhere. Kyle stayed three steps behind, brooding but silent.

In any other situation, she would have reveled in the long, open vistas, the undulating terrain that hinted at a thousand corners to explore. But her eyes were as unsettled as her soul, darting suspiciously about, examining the ranch for any outward sign of its secret.

“It looks so…normal.”

“It is normal,” he insisted. “Kind of.”

Which just about summed it up. On the surface, it looked all the world like any other rural community. An inner ring of tidy homes with flower pots and hummingbird feeders formed the heart of the ranch. Beyond that cluster, an outer circle of fenced-in fields dotted with livestock gradually gave way to open desert.

“It’s a good place, Stef. Good people.”

“It’s not much different than North Ridge.”

His voice went growly at that. “This is nothing like North Ridge.”

The truth was, the vibe was totally different. Maybe it really was as nice as he said. But werewolves? Who was she trying to kid?

She stalked past a barn that had been converted into a community hall where a wall fluttered with flyers that announced ordinary community events: barbecues, soccer games, reading clubs. Someone somewhere was practicing the piano, and there was even a one-room schoolhouse and a playground full of energetic kids.

“Hey, Miss Luth!” The voice of one of the children carried as they walked past. “What do you call an alligator in a vest?”

“What, Timmy?” The teacher sounded like she had all the patience in the world.

“An investigator!”

Stef walked on. It was all perfectly normal—except for one thing. They were all wolves. At any point of day or night these people—these shifters—could twist their bodies into wolf form and tear off into the hills. Voluntarily, according to Kyle, though she couldn’t see the appeal. Apparently, their Navajo neighbors were a pack, too—a pack of coyote shifters.

Right, coyote shifters.
She had just nodded at that point. Nothing could surprise her any more.

Or so she thought. Because when Kyle led her to lunch in an oak-beamed dining hall where pack members shared meals several times a week, she balked. The sight of all those people—kids, families, elders—all of them werewolves? It looked like a scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting, and that’s what tipped her over the edge. There was no way to tell shifters from humans. The harmony of the scene seemed a lie; any minute now, the fangs would come out and the feeding frenzy would begin.

Her knees locked as she stood frozen on the threshold.

I can’t do this. Can’t. Won’t. Don’t want any part of this.

If she could have screamed and run there and then, she would have. But her legs wouldn’t heed the command and neither did her voice. She stood trembling in the doorway, breaking out in a sweat.

Kyle turned, crooking his head in a gesture so like the old days that it stopped her just short of a full-on meltdown.

“You okay?”

“Fine,” she whispered and promptly spun on her heel. She speed-walked away with vision blurred by tears and all but shouldered Tina aside. “Sorry,” she blurted, hurrying on.

She only stopped when the notes of the piano reached her again in the shade of a barn. She leaned her forehead against the weathered planking, palms flat against the coarse wood, fighting back a bubble of hysteria.

Fine. I’m fine. All fine…

That there were wolves all around her wasn’t the only problem. The fact that she was turning into one… Her fingernails scratched at the wood, fighting the thought away. The deep breaths she tried weren’t working; they were too shallow, too forced, like she was running for her life and not hiding behind a barn.

Like at the start of a race. Breathe. Stay in control.

Right, control. She’d never been less in control. And the rare times in her life when she thought she had been, those were a mirage. The constant moves as a child, the awful series of losses she’d endured. And now this—getting ripped out of the life she’d forged for herself and being thrown straight to the wolves. Literally.

The scuff of footsteps sent her heart hammering, her body closer to the wall. Let whomever it was think she was mentally unstable. It wasn’t far from the truth.

As the steps drew nearer, a scent reached her, and her knees wobbled. It was Kyle. Kyle Williams, back in her life.

That part… She sucked in a long breath, feeling her nerves gradually settle. That part, she liked. Why, she wasn’t in the mood to examine. Only that she felt the rightness of it from the root of her soul. Wolf or human, it didn’t matter with him. She let her eyes crack open and peeked, trying to drink in the steadiness he emanated.

“Hey,” he started in a voice much softer than his protective stance.

She gulped back the knot in her throat and tried shaking away the tears of relief. It was one thing to be a mess inside; it was different to let Kyle see.

She wished it was him she could cling to instead of the weathered wall. He’d be as big and solid and strong as the barn, that was for sure. But she’d never been one to throw herself at a man, and never wanted to be.

Except this wasn’t just any man. It was the boy next door, and she knew his secrets. Some of them, anyway. Couldn’t she share a few of her own?

He stepped closer, an inch away, and the warm tickle of breath at her ear brought her the safe sense of an army at her back. An army of one, who’d never ever failed her, and never ever would.

“Hey,” Kyle tried again, and his voice was so gentle, it might have been a dream. His hand warmed her shoulder, the touch light but steady.

She angled her head, trapped between the urge to give in and the all-too-practiced habit of hiding away. Kyle had his share of worries; he didn’t need hers.

“Stef,” he said, his voice husky. It wasn’t pity, though. It was a plea.

A ripple of shame went through her. She’d hurt him by rushing away from the dining room. Worried him, too, judging by the waver in his voice. Couldn’t she spare a thought for anyone but herself? Kyle had come out of nowhere to help and brought her to his pack, and she’d been less than gracious in return. Turned her tail and run—even from him.

Never from him!
cried an inner voice, deep and defiant.

She wasn’t good at comforting herself, but she could comfort him. She turned, intending to say it out loud.
I’m sorry. I’m fine. Everything will be okay.
But the moment she saw his face, she knew she couldn’t lie. Not to him. She stood there hopelessly, watching the gold sparks in his eyes.

They both started an inhale at the exact same moment, and before she even got to the exhale, Kyle pulled her into a hug that fit like a second skin. She buried her face in his shoulder and let herself pretend it was he who needed the holding, not her.

He smelled so good: of dry, open spaces with a hint of pine. No—oak, the kind you’d make a shield of, solid and stubborn and pure of heart. There was even a perfect grip where the muscles of his shoulders met the tight cords of his waist. The knots of her own body started to unwind, one after another, as if they hadn’t been tied at all, just bundled up and waiting for his magic touch.

“Stef,” he whispered. “It’ll be all right.”

When he said it, she could believe it.

A hum started up in her ears, just as it had when he’d first caught her on the mesa and pinned her down. A hum that called for closer and more, so insistent that she had to obey. Kyle must have heard it, too, because his hands ran along her sides, then traced some secret message on her spine. She nestled closer, her nose followed the line of his neck.

“Kyle…”

When she turned her face, his was already there, as if they were playing out a scene they’d lived in a previous life. She caught a glimpse of gold flickering in his eyes before she closed her own, because the cushion of his lips against hers was already enough to push her dangerously close to the edge. Soft and dry, they set off a melting sensation deep inside. His fingers in her hair were a safety net closing softly around her, promising everything would be all right.