Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3) (7 page)

No, it had to be the Changeling in her, right?

He kicked the door open and stalked out into the night. Maybe a run would help. Taking a deep breath, he shifted, letting the wolf out at last. And thank God for that, because things seemed clearer when he was in canine form. Simpler. There was duty and honor and the pull of the moon and not much else. He could run and howl and let his soul out of its dungeon for just a little while.

Except tonight, there was more to it than that. There was a tickling, insistent feeling. A hunger. What was that all about?

Try love.
His wolf grinned, leaping over a ditch.

Love, or greed?

Love,
the wolf insisted, and then chuckled.
Maybe with just a little greed.

Whatever it was, the emotion came paired with hate—that burning, foul taste that came when he pictured the scar on Stef’s neck. If only shifters could jump time the way they jumped between two bodies; he’d go back a week and stop her from stepping foot on North Ridge territory in the first place. What had she been thinking, going there alone? He wanted to ferret out her boss, rip him limb from limb then throw the pieces into the same gully where he’d stash the gutted remains of Ron, once he got his claws on that son of a bitch.

First Ron, then the boss,
his wolf corrected.

That’s when he knew he was in trouble. Because when his human side let the wolf become the strategist, well…

I got this, man. Trust me.

That might have been comforting, except for the fact that you could never trust your inner wolf. That was the first thing he’d decided when he’d been turned. Wolves were all about impulse and instinct, not reason or logic, and only the latter would save Stef.

Wanna bet?
his wolf muttered back.

He took off on a wide arc around the ranch, padding fast and furious over rough terrain. Up past the creek and the fork in the trail marked by a bull’s skull, then higher still to a ridge where he paused. Sat. Studied. Below, the lights of the ranch shone yellow in the inky night. It was quiet; everyone was tucked into their homes and settling in for family time.

The old stab of envy hit him, and his wolf parked his rump on the cool ground, lifted his muzzle, and howled. Long and low and warbling, wishing his wasn’t the only voice filling the desert air that night. He could hear the empty echo of his own howl stretch into the hills then fade into darkness.

Behind the eastern hills, he could feel the pulse of the moon, taunting him. Soon, it would rise over the horizon, plump but for a sliver at one edge.

Tomorrow, most of the pack would be out to revel in the moonlight, but tonight it was just him. He gulped then and stopped singing, listening to the desert slumbering. The quiet could mean anything: just another peaceful night, or danger in the shadows.

He gave his wolf coat an unhappy shake and took off again.

Chill out. She’ll be fine.

How could Stefanie be fine if some bastard of a shifter was after her? How could she be fine without someone to protect her?

He completed a full loop, always testing, searching, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Catching the recent scent of Zack and Rae bolstered him a little. The pack’s best eyes and ears were on duty that night. Not that he could relax, but he could leave the outer perimeter to them. He needed to be closer.

Closer.

Very close.

He circled the ranch, spiraling in endless laps until his paws were trampling a path around a single building: the guesthouse. He could scent his brown-eyed girl inside—the pure, uncomplicated soul that was Stefanie. The smell of all-consuming fear came through the walls, and it killed him to know she was afraid. If he could, he’d slip inside and turn a few circles around her body, too. But she’d hardly be comforted by a wolf crashing through her door, so he settled for circling the house again and again.

He lost count of laps by the time two wolves trotted past, and though Kyle knew perfectly well they were packmates and not intruders, he couldn’t hold back a growl. A don’t fuck-with-my-foul-mood growl that carried over the deserted lane.

One of the wolves was sunny blond, the other the color of champagne. Cody and Heather, their fur thick with the musk of sex. And why not? They’d put in a long day’s work and earned their reward: a little downtime together. Nothing wrong with a little fun.

Except fun didn’t fit into Kyle’s world right now. Not with Stef in danger. Not with everything out of balance.

He snorted at himself. Who was he kidding? There hadn’t been fun or balance in his life since…since… His mind went into rewind, searching his memories until he came up blank.

When Cody shook his fur and approached, the fur on Kyle’s back spiked into a razor’s edge.

Didn’t I tell you to go home?

Kyle bared his teeth in response and let a growl build in the back of his throat. The empty house on the edge of the ranch wasn’t home. Wherever Stef was, that was home.

I dare you to take another step,
his growl conveyed.

Cody halted in his tracks and cocked his head. It wasn’t often that the pack’s co-alpha got ordered around. Not by anyone but his brother, at least.

Cody stretched his muzzle out toward Kyle.
Hey, man, I told you not to worry about—

Kyle snapped at him. If he wanted to worry, he damn well would.

That was his wolf half, at least. The human part buried deep inside watched in shock as his jaws clicked together an inch in front of the co-alpha’s nose.

There was a moment of surprised silence before Cody started rumbling, too, taking up a fighting stance.

Watch it, Kyle.

You watch it.

You—

A high-pitched whine broke in to their snarling match as Heather stepped between them and nudged Cody back a step.
Um, guys?

Kyle gave himself a rough shake. Jesus, he’d just snapped at one of the pack’s two leaders—and the closest thing he had to a friend. What the hell was he thinking? It wasn’t Cody he wanted to tear to pieces, it was Ron.

But he’d be damned if he let anyone—anyone!—close to the guesthouse tonight.

I told you she’d be fine,
Cody’s voice sounded in his mind. It was gritty, like voices always were when they communicated in wolf form.

I told you I wasn’t leaving,
he spit back.

Then Heather chimed in again—
Boys, boys. Enough already!
—and Cody sighed. He turned to Heather and rubbed his muzzle along her neck. Then the two of them turned and walked away, their sides brushing.

Be my guest.
Cody’s tail flicked as he went.
Stand guard all night.

Exactly what Kyle intended to do.

He could hear Heather pushing her thoughts to Cody, forcefully enough that he could hear her, too.

I remember someone standing guard outside my house all night,
she said, a little tease in her voice.

That was different,
Cody answered, letting Kyle in on every word.

Heather just laughed.
Wanna bet?

Cody pulled up short and swung his head between Kyle and the guesthouse until a soft kind of realization washed over his eyes. He blinked a few times then shook his ruff.
Jesus, man. I hope you know what you’re doing.

Kyle kept his answer to himself.
Christ, I hope so, too.

He watched them go, that perfectly matched pair. Heather wound herself along Cody’s side then dipped under his neck in a wolf sign of approval. The two trotted off, and the image stuck in Kyle’s mind. Of being rubbed that way—by Stef. Of trotting into the night, side by side. That easy acceptance, that instant understanding. That sense of belonging.

His wolf gave a hollow huff then turned back to the bungalow and began circling it again. Dreaming wouldn’t get him anywhere. He’d tried dreaming himself into a different life as a kid, and all that accomplished was proving how futile hope was. His job was to protect, to prevent evil. Now more than ever—because this wasn’t just anyone. It was Stef.

And this wasn’t just any night. The more he walked, the more he sensed it in the air. Something faint and thin, but definitely there. Something evil, like a poisonous fog.

A moment later he was snarling in recognition. It was Ron, seeking Stefanie out from a distance. Trying to hone in on her, itching for that second bite.

Come to me, mate,
came the whisper in the night.

Kyle pointed his nose north and growled. He made another round of the old adobe, slower now. He was no magician, but damn it, he would keep her safe. Every step became a deliberate act as he concentrated on erecting a wall of sheer stubborn willpower around Stefanie. A bristling wall that would make that coward Ron run for his life.

He rumbled as he walked, rubbing his musk on every wall and every bush. He’d mask her scent with his own and secret her away. His mind cast up battlements, watchtowers, and catapults, all of them howling the same message:
There is nothing for you here.
He imagined the defenses going up, brick by brick, as if they were a physical thing instead of ephemeral, and power flowed from him as from a tap. Let Ron seek. He’d find more than he bargained for.

Adrenaline coursed through his veins like the soldier’s high he’d heard about—the one that could fuel a man for hours if his cause was just. Around and around, losing track of time and place, pouring everything he had into protecting Stef.

He was stepping into yet another lap when the moon, already long past its zenith, whispered,
Enough.
He paced one more lap around the old adobe, assuring himself that that probing outside force had given up, at least for the night. Then he hauled himself up on the porch, turned three circles, and slumped down in front of the door, utterly drained. With a heavy sigh, he tucked his nose under his tail, and closed his eyes in an approximation of sleep. But his ears stuck up like a couple of rotating radar domes, fully alert.

Stef Alt, back in his life. He’d be damned if he ever let her go.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Pink morning light filled the room with a cheery glow. Stef could sense it, even from under the sheets. Everything was peaceful. The only reminder of her torturous night was the bedding—damp and twisted from sweat and fear. But that had only lasted the first part of the night. Eventually, the fear had ebbed away, and the house that had first felt like a cage became a safe haven where she could finally drift off to sleep.

She was still half asleep, lingering in her last dream. One in which she’d been intimately wrapped around a man. A good man, not a monster. If she kept her eyes closed, she could still imagine Kyle spooned along her body.

Of course, it was just a dream, but one worth hanging on to—even rewinding and reliving a couple of dozen times.

It started the same way every time: he would appear like a spark of light in the otherwise bleak world of her imagination and pull her close, just like he’d done at the barn.

“Stef,” he’d whisper, and she’d whisper right back.

“Kyle.”

Like he was hers, and she was his, and both of them knew it.

His touch was warm and tender and incredibly right, and she shaped her body to his like they were practiced lovers. Then she touched every inch of him, from the bulk of his shoulders to the smooth of his chest. His hands slid over her, too, and everything she’d been ready to give up on came giggling back to life. Her face went warm, her core even warmer, and when his hands palmed her breasts, it was like she’d immersed herself in a hot bath. Make that a hot tub, with the jets aimed at all the right places.

Her chuckle climbed to the rafters. Kyle was about the last person she could imagine in a hot tub. She’d only ever been in one once, but hey, this was her dream and she was running with it. She imagined sliding a hand underwater and working the length of him until he was hard and high and whispering her name like no man had ever done before. Looking at her through half-lidded eyes that said she was a thing of wonder and not the skinny kid from next door. She’d pull him closer than close, wrap her legs around his waist and urge him inside.

Then he’d work them both into a raging heat that threatened to consume the night, and she’d rock with him, clutching with her inner muscles to push him over the edge half a second before she took off, too. Flying, flying, diving through the night.

“Kyle.”

She sighed out loud, holding on to the warm glow. A dream shouldn’t be the best sex she’d ever had, but it was. They did it again and again, and each time, he took her breath away.

Kyle. A lover, not just a friend.

The feeling lasted even after she showered, dressed, and tentatively pulled the front door open. She breathed deeply, and there it was: a promise, hanging in the air. A promise that somehow, everything would be all right. She found herself sinking down on the mat in front of the door. The spot seemed ridiculously cozy, perfect for hugging her knees and soaking in the sun.

She was just drifting off into another sizzling dream when Tina came up and shattered the bubble.

“Morning!”

“Morning,” Stef mumbled, wishing it was Kyle there. Where was he anyway? What fantasies were playing in his mind?

“How about breakfast?” Tina offered, leading her away.

She reluctantly shook off the fantasy. At least her blissful morning made up for a miserable night.

There were an awful lot of paw prints around the bungalow, she noticed. They formed a track, like the kind left behind by an old-fashioned pony ride that went around and around. Which didn’t bother her in itself—in fact, something about it set off an inner glow. But the track was like a moat, and the minute she crossed it, the world came crashing back in.

Wolves. Shifters. Mates. A world she wanted no part of.

“So, I wanted to show you the paddocks…”

Tina was either oblivious or pretending to be because she took off on a post-breakfast tour to every corner of the ranch, from the barns to the irrigation channels and the schoolhouse. Stef dragged her heels the whole time. She didn’t want views or facts or introductions. She wanted…Kyle.