Releasing the Wolf (3 page)

Were those spots in front of her eyes?

Deep breaths, Lydia…

She did as her great aunt’s voice instructed, but stopped mid-breath.

There.

And there it was again. That
smell
.

It smelled like green and … wait, did ‘green’ even have a smell?

Sure it does
, she reasoned with herself.
Plants and trees and nature and stuff.

Familiarity wrapped around her like a old, favourite blanket.

I’m losing it…

But she
had
to follow that smell.

She found herself at the swinging door that led to the main part of the café. All the bikers were in. Heidi was gallivanting from one hungry table to the next with her notepad, and…

She zeroed in on him.

He leaned across the counter, more intimately than most people did when ordering food, and seemed to be saying something important to Barry.

Who was he? She’d never seen him before, but felt as if she should have. He was dressed a bit like the other bikers, but whereas their leathers looked mostly worn and creased, his looked pristine.

His hair was a dark brown and fell long across his forehead, though it was shorter at the back. Stubble lined his chin and jawline, but it looked like designer stubble that was groomed that way. This guy took care of himself. Yet still, there was something of the hippie about him. Maybe it was the material bracelets he wore around his wrist – so different from his other attire.

He shifted on his feet, and her nostrils flared, because there was that scent again that clearly belonged to him.

Lydia,
voiced her great aunt, sardonically,
you can’t smell people from this far away.

Nevertheless, she was sure that in this instance she could … and maybe the stranger could too, because he suddenly stilled, cocked his head ever so slightly to the right, then turned and looked straight at her.

His eyes were green.

For some bizarre reason, she felt disappointed, but quickly shook it off.

And what was with the sadness? Something that seemed like grief hung heavy behind those eyes, although you wouldn’t know it by the carefully placed mask on his face. Still,
she
could see it. He wasn’t unattractive by any stretch of the imagination. In fact, he was pretty damn hot, but in a soft, gentle way, rather than a raw, sexual way. She felt herself flush a little, and was overtaken by the inexplicable urge to introduce herself.

She took a step forward—

“Lydia!”

Stunned out of her weird trance, she turned and met Heidi’s round, red face. The blonde was out of breath. “It’s crazy-busy. You helping?”

“Er … sure.”

“Here.” Heidi thrust a new notepad and pen at her. “Table eight have been waiting.”

“I’m on it.”

Heidi rushed off towards table fourteen.

Lydia turned back to the counter where the man stood … had stood.

He was gone.

Chapter Three

Drip … drip … drip…

Rain drops.

Rain drops through the roof … through a hole in the roof.

He hurried towards it, four paws padding quietly, trying not to make a sound; tongue already lolling…

Drip…

Water…

Drip…

By god, he was thirsty!

Drip…

“It’s a trap.”

Still in wolf form, he turned towards the warning voice – the one he knew too well.

Eyes that were so deeply blue they were almost violet, met his. Her hair was pulled back in a short ponytail, leaving copper-coloured tendrils framing her oval face.

His wolf heart leaped from his chest.

Mine,
it announced with a thump, then with every thump after,
mine, mine, mine…

She
was
his. But it was almost too late now. And dreams were not tangible things.

“
You look nice like this,” she smiled. “You never come to me like this.”

He went to her now, leaving the water behind. Even the call of a mate was stronger than water – to join with a mate was the most basic, most primal survival instinct, and the most important.

His muzzle met the palm of her hand, and even in this form, her touch was wonderful. His wolf eyes, met hers, and he directed his thoughts at her.
Find me, Lydia. Please. I need you. Come and find me.

She looked confused for a second, then shook her head. “But you’re a dream – you’re not real.”

His panic flared at that. Was it possible she didn’t even know who she was –
what
she was?

This isn’t just a dream.

But again she pushed him out; put up that emotional barrier around herself – she was good at doing that.

Stop resisting.

“
Resisting what?”

Me, your instincts, all the things you really want but are too afraid to feel.

She got angry then. “You don’t know me.”

I know you better than anyone. Let me in, Lydia … find me…

~*~

“
Lydia…”

Something tugged at her ponytail.

“Lydia.”

She swatted it with the back of her hand and her wrist was caught.

What?

“Honey, you’re drooling.”

It took a short while after opening her eyes for her to realise she’d fallen asleep on the only table in the café’s kitchen – right after eating Brendan’s to-die-for breakfast.

“And if you hadn’t have had enough foresight to move your plate, you’d have bacon fat on your cheek as well as drool,” he stated, nothing short of amused as he stood there staring at her.

He handed her a paper towel.

With a frown, she yanked it from him and wiped her face. “Why didn’t you wake me?”

“I just did.”

“Earlier.”

“Figured you needed the sleep. You don’t look so good. Also … you were kinda growling.”

“What?”

“In your sleep.”

“I was not.”

“Were too.”

Great. What other embarrassing things do I do in my sleep that I don’t know about?
“I can’t believe I fell asleep. I’ve got to get home. What time is it?”

“Relax. It’s only just midday.”

She pulled her chair back. “I need to clean—”

“It’s done.”

“Damn it. I’m not a slacker. You should have woken me.”

“Will you calm down? Everyone knows you work hard – too hard – which is likely why you’re ill.” He placed his hand on her forehead and she flinched.

“This isn’t a come-on, you know. I’m genuinely concerned.”

She sighed. God, she felt like shit. “Sorry. I know.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

“I dunno – dogs or something…”

He let out a low chuckle. “Explains the growling—”

She shot him a look—

“
And
the drooling.”

“Fuck off.”

He laughed louder, then gently tugged her ponytail upwards. “Come on, firecracker. I’m not letting you walk home. I’ve got a spare helmet.”

She rose from the table, and then swooned as a wave of dizziness grabbed hold of her.

“Hey, hey, steady now…” Brendan caught her. “You need to take tonight off from the restaurant.”

She shook her head. “It’s a show night. I can’t bunk off.”

“You’re
ill
, for Christ’s sake, not bunking.”

“I’ll sleep it off once I get home.”

He muttered something under his breath. She didn’t quite catch it through the faint ringing in her ears.

“You think you’ve got enough balance to sit on the back of a bike?”

“I’ll be fine once I’m outside.” And actually, she believed that. Just the thought of the summer breeze on her face and the smell of the pine trees that sweetened the air was enough to clear her head a bit.

“Good. Let’s go.”

They made their way out to the front where Barry was stacking the last of the chairs, and Heidi was putting away the mop.

“Hey, Lydi,” she called out. “You off?”

“Yeah.”

“See you next week. Feel better soon.”

“Do I look that bad?”

“Yep.”

Wonderful. That would
not
go down well with the theatre’s maître d’. Simon was the stuffiest boss she knew, and constantly on some kind of OCD trip.

Brendan held the door open for her. “You got all your stuff?”

“Yeah … wait. Barry…” She turned, briefly wondering why she cared to ask her next question. “Who was that guy you were talking to this morning? He was leaning over the counter – well groomed, brown hair, green eyes…” She ignored Brendan’s gaze burning into her.

“Oh, man alive!” cut in Heidi. “Taylor … now
that’s
what a biker
should
look like.”

“Taylor?”

“Yeah – Taylor,” said Barry. “Nice guy. Not seen him for a while. He used to come in quite a lot with his mates, but stopped about two months back.”

“And my eyes have suffered for it,” pouted Heidi.

Lydia mentally calculated the weeks from her start date. That would explain why she hadn’t seen him before. She’d only started working here about seven weeks ago – it must have been just after he’d stopped coming here. “Why did they stop?”

“Who knows,” Barry shrugged. “Guess they found somewhere better to go; or maybe they don’t ride this way any more… Taylor said they were looking for one of his gang – Ryan. They used to come in together – three of them, sometimes more, but usually just the three. Fuckin’ inseparable, excuse my French. Until recently anyway – he said Ryan went missing ten days ago and no one’s heard a peep out of him.”

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and her feet froze themselves to the spot.

“Ryan?” muttered Brendan behind her.

“Coincidence,” she whispered, shakily. Because it was. Her Ryan was just a dream.

“Yeah. Brendan, you remember Ryan… burly guy, bit taller than Taylor – not that other bloke; not the blond one…”

“Yeah, I remember.” Then he looked at her with those heated eyes again. “I don’t think you were working here then.”

“I wasn’t. I haven’t met them –
any
of them,” she told him, pointedly.
Not that it would be any of your business if I had
, she added silently.

Brendan shoved the door open again. “It’s getting late.” His tone was flat.

A quick glance at the clock told her he was right.

“Best make tracks, love,” said Barry, nodding his goodbye.

“’Bye, Barry – see you next week.”

As soon as they were outside, she whirled around. “What the hell was that?”

“What?”

“The whole caveman gig. You know, the beauty of one night stands is that no one needs to put up with any jealousy crap.”

“I’m not jealous.”

“Then what
was
that?”

“Look, Ryan’s bad news, okay? If he ever comes back here—”

“I don’t
know
Ryan, all right? The Ryan whose name I called out in my sleep – he doesn’t live around here.”

Well, it wasn’t a total lie, was it? He
didn’t
live here – just in her head. Nevertheless, she couldn’t ignore the curiosity that had peaked within her. “Why’s he bad news?”

“Him, and the guys he hangs out with – they keep themselves to themselves; don’t mingle with the other bikers. I can’t figure out who runs that show. Ryan’s the talkative one, the one who always takes the lead, but the blond guy – Lawrence I think his name was – he always gave me the creeps. Always silent, but he never missed a thing. Taylor’s okay – the most normal out the lot of them.”

“Why does any of that make them bad news?”

“Nobody knows them, Lydia – at all. The other bikers all meet up with each other every now and again outside their own groups; everyone mingles, but not Ryan’s group.”