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Grant turned from the box of lanterns. “Yes, and all of a sudden I’m wondering why there haven’t been any newcomers needing our unique kind of hospitality.”
Shirleen pushed off the wall. “You don’t think...”
“It’s a viable theory, right? That rogue might be waylaying Weres before they can reach us.”
“You’re suggesting this rogue might be eating a werewolf or two for supper, as well as cattle, and that’s why the bones in that campfire belong to a human? Because a Were’s bones would look human if it wasn’t furred-up at the time of its death?” A look of utter disgust crossed Shirleen’s face.
“Either that, or our elusive bastard nabbed a hiker. I guess the bones will tell us if I’m right, if the right person looks at them. Did you move those bones?”
“Ben took them.”
“Good. Ben should be able confirm if my suspicions are viable. It’s handy to have a vet around.”
“What are you going to do, boss?”
Grant eyed Shirleen thoughtfully. “I’ll have to see to it that Hall’s daughter doesn’t stay too long or get too nosy.”
“I meant about tonight and cleaning up the town.”
Grant’s gaze moved to the truck, and he wished he could avoid Shirleen’s question. Strange sensations ruffled inside his chest. He’d felt this same kind of sensation only once before, and that was the first time he’d seen Paxton Hall.
What did those strange sensations mean now?
Hell. Could Paxton be in trouble?
Handing the box to Shirleen, Grant strode to the door. “Take these to Desperado for me. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Make sure things are closed up tight. Guard the place.”
He had smelled trouble the minute his boots hit the dirt. Trouble resonated in his bones, and he knew why. Christ, yes. He knew why.
Paxton Hall’s connection to him was strong enough to enable him to almost see her. That’s the way wolf to wolf communication went. Because of their attraction, a special bond had been forged. They seemed to be linked together by invisible chains that were proving to be stronger than the usual male-female kind of animal attraction. How else could he know what Paxton was feeling right that minute?
Bonds. Wolf to wolf chains binding us together...
Grant now began to fear he might have inadvertently imprinted with Paxton, settling into place an attachment that couldn’t be broken by either party, no matter how hard they might try. Imprinting brought a whole new meaning to the phrase until death do us part and upped the degree of attraction to full-on hunger. Mental and carnal hunger.
He hungered for her that minute.
Damn it all to hell, he wanted to shout. Through that connection to her, he knew that Paxton had not stayed at the motel. Contrary to his warnings, she was out there somewhere in the dark, along with a madman, a bad wolf with a taste for cattle, humans and maybe other Weres. A beast that hunted for sport and ate its prey.
Deep in his mind, the sound of Paxton’s startled cry echoed. His heart began to race, as if matching hers, beat for thrashing beat.
“Okay,” Shirleen called out as Grant jumped into his truck. “We’ll take care of things here.”
With blood pounding in his ears and the back of his neck chilling up, Grant was beyond caring about Desperado. He had to get to her. To Paxton. That’s the way imprinting worked. There was no other option. No way to avoid her call.
With his boot to the pedal and his lips moving with a litany of unuttered curses, Grant headed at breakneck speed back toward the city.
* * *
Paxton hit the highway with relief and with her heart hammering. Her knuckles were white from her grip on the steering wheel, and she kept repeating out loud how sorry she was that she had left the motel.
Though the highway was pretty much deserted, two cars heading in the opposite direction passed, and Paxton was finally able to take a deep breath. Cars meant the city wasn’t far off. But as their headlight beams bounced off the sizable dent in the hood of the station wagon, she rang up the cost of the repairs she was going to have to pay for. Worse yet, she’d have to try to explain what had caused it.
She had to be right about the bear.
Skin tingling with remnants of leftover adrenaline, Paxton kept her attention glued to the road as the speedometer inched upward. Lightheaded from lack of sleep and from being scared half out of her wits, she spoke again out loud to cover the sound of her heartbeats.
“If I didn’t actually want to think more of you, I might start to believe you set this up on purpose, Dad. So, what’s this deal you made with Grant Wade going to turn out to be?”
When a voice replied to her question, she nearly spun the car off the road. But the voice was inside her mind, and likely a remembered thought in one word. Stay.
Grant Wade had asked her to stay. Given that he might be hiding something from her, why would he have then issued an invitation to go there tomorrow and then advised her not to visit Desperado?
“Which is it, Wade? Stay or go?”
Her fear was just beginning to evaporate when she noticed a set of headlights behind her, closing in fast. Turning the wheel, Paxton hugged the right side of the road to allow the car to pass. Instead of doing so, it pulled up alongside and stayed there long enough for her to get a clear picture of the man inside that blue truck.
Grant.
Satisfied that she’d seen him, he backed off the pedal. The truck pulled in behind her, as if the man driving it knew what she had been through and was extending his job description to encompass the term bodyguard.
Swear to God though, Paxton was glad to see him.
The café where they’d shared their late-afternoon meal was the first building she saw. She pulled into the lot and turned off the engine. Grant was beside her in a flash and opening the door. Concern darkened his handsome face as he leaned in.
“What happened?”
“Bear. I think a bear jumped on the car.”
He hadn’t looked at the dent in the hood or the one that had to be on the roof. Grant Wade’s focus was on her.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Paxton heaved a sigh. Having this man here with her made her feel safe. She didn’t recall ever having felt completely safe before.
“I’m fine,” she lied, not quite sure her legs would hold her up if she got out of the car. “Just scared.”
“Coffee?” he suggested.
“So you can scold me in public for driving into the desert?”
“You’re not a kid, Paxton. You could have been hurt.”
She nodded, in full agreement with that last part.
“Coffee?” Grant repeated. “Or something stronger?”
She offered him a weak smile, still gripping the wheel. Seeming to read her tension, Grant reached in to unlock her grip. He helped her out of the car and to her feet, his touch providing the same kind of charge she had experienced earlier.
She supposed she was a sucker for feeling anything at all for this tall stranger, and countered those thoughts by telling herself he merely made her feel silly about going out there.
“Come on.” His tone was gentle but firm.
When Paxton didn’t immediately start walking, he pulled her closer to him with a snap of one arm. Their chests met. Their hips met. Grant didn’t appear to think this was awkward, when, for her, their two bodies meeting in a parking lot where other people might be around seemed almost obscene.
Truly, Grant Wade—solid, somber and handsome in the extreme—was likely every bit as dangerous as that damn bear. His hold on her was light, yet supportive. His pulse was pounding as hard as hers. And he was every bit the solid he-man male she’d imagined he would be.
Was he going to kiss her? She knew he was thinking about it.
Would she allow such a thing?
With cars coming and going from the parking lot around them, Grant acted like they were the only two people here. She was in his arms and couldn’t shake herself free. Hell, she didn’t even try.
Her cowboy’s eyes didn’t meet her questioning gaze. Nor did his mouth come anywhere close to hers. He continued to steady her quaking limbs...and she was a sap for thinking he might have had other plans.
“You think you saw a bear?” he asked, reminding her of what she’d said.
She nodded. “Yes. Big, dark and like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
“It got that close?”
There was no way to miss the trepidation and concern in his voice. Each word he spoke made his chest rumble. However, Paxton couldn’t figure out why he was so concerned about her when her father’s will stated that if anything were to happen to her, the land she’d been left would go to guess who, along with Desperado.
“It looked at me through the windshield before taking off, and nearly wrecked the car,” she explained.
Grant’s hold on her loosened. She didn’t ask him to wait another minute before letting her go. Didn’t confess to needing his strength a while longer. What right did she have to expect anyone to save her from her own stupidity?
“I shouldn’t have tried to follow you,” she admitted.
His voice lowered. “It was a regrettable move, but not entirely unanticipated.”
Had he read her so easily, then?
Maybe that’s why he had found her out there on the road. He had expected her to act like an idiot. Expected her to spy on him.
“Do you know about the bear?” she asked.
“I haven’t heard of one, but we’ll be on the lookout after this.”
“Then why did you advise me not to go out to Desperado on my own, if not because of that bear?”
“The desert can be a dangerous place for other reasons.”
“Such as?”
“Snakes.” He hesitated before adding, “Wolves.”
“The threat of snakes and wolves is what made you warn me off?”
“In part.”
“There are more parts?” Paxton got the fact that Grant Wade didn’t appreciate being questioned when she was the one who had been caught in an unfortunate act of defiance.
Just one more question, she told herself.
“Were you driving back to town? That’s why you saw me?”
He returned a question for a question. “You’re sure it was a bear you saw?”
She pointed at the car. “What else could it have been? No wolf or coyote I’ve ever heard of is that big.”
Paxton was sure that having coffee while sitting across from Grant in a lighted café was not going to make her feel better about that dent in the hood. In fact, she felt foolish any way she looked at tonight’s events...and that made her angry.
“I’m all right,” she repeated. “I should probably get back to the motel and face the fire about this accident.”
“I’ll follow you,” he suggested. “I can talk to Dev, the manager of the motel, about the car.”
“My insurance might cover the damage, if anyone were to believe how it happened.”
Her self-appointed cowboy bodyguard smiled weakly and said, “I’ll take care of it.”
He hadn’t let her go and seemed as reluctant as she was for him to do so. And, okay, she had to admit that having his arms around her was nice. But she also got the feeling Grant was waiting for something. What? An invitation for that kiss?
Stupid girl. How inappropriate would that have been? How absurd was it to wait for a kiss that was not going to happen, in light of them still being strangers on the opposing sides of an upcoming round of litigation?
The thought had barely receded when Grant Wade rested his mouth on hers.
Chapter 8
It wasn’t the smartest move, Grant knew. In fact, kissing Paxton was the polar opposite of smart. He just could not help himself.
The kiss was meant to be a further comfort for her, but didn’t turn out that way. Desire to devour the woman in his arms filled him the second his lips touched hers.
She was soft, and tasted good. He held her lithe body to his, thinking it might have been a fluke that she kissed him back. A kind of stunned reaction. Whatever the reason, Paxton, at least for the moment, accepted the pressure of his mouth as if she also had been waiting for this moment to arrive. As if it had been merely a matter of time before this happened, given their attraction to each other.
Possibly she needed an outlet for getting rid of her recent fear. Maybe he kissed her for the same reason, or because of the growing suspicion that his desire for her wasn’t normal. This wasn’t how strangers behaved. Something else had to be driving them together.
The kiss deepened. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her and didn’t want to stop. Distant thoughts nagged about being needed elsewhere, but Grant shook those warnings off in favor of exploring his ardent desire to possess Paxton Hall.
In that moment, he felt exactly like the animal he was. As his lips moved over Paxton’s, his sense of connection to her doubled. Flames of greed licked at his insides, piling higher and higher with each passing stroke of his palms over the fine bones of her spine. She didn’t struggle to be free or pound him with her fists. Her mouth was pliable, plush and accepting. If she had offered any hint of wanting to get away, he would have backed off.
That’s what he told himself, anyway.
Enough, his mind cautioned after more seconds slipped by. But he didn’t want to listen. He took hold of her shirt, intending to tear it from her body without giving a damn about who might be looking. The sheer force of that thought made him draw back.
Paxton’s breath came in rasps. Her face was extremely pale beneath the glare of the café’s lights. As their gazes locked and his body continued to harden in all the wrong places, Grant knew for certain he was in real trouble where Paxton Hall was concerned, and that his wolfish impulses were the instigators of those feelings.
She stood there, looking at him.
He wasn’t sure what to say.
The quick fix for this problem was to drive away and leave her there, as he should have done in order to regain his wits. But he did have to get her back to the motel. See her safely there.
Taking her hand in his, Grant led her to his truck in what amounted to a race against time. Sooner or later they would come to their senses about this connection and be able to manage the passions accompanying it. He preferred that to be later, because what he intended to do to and with Paxton was going to take some time.
Paxton’s curious expression told him she wasn’t going to stop this madness, either. Not yet, anyway. Whatever was taking place between them was seriously spiraling out of control. Not just for him, but for both of them.
She climbed into the truck when he opened the door. Grant was already mulling over the added difficulty of getting her out of the jeans she now wore.
All women should wear skirts, he thought. Black silk, preferably.
His passenger sat silently as he drove, her focus glued to the windshield. She was all legs—long, slim legs encased in dark blue denim. Her shirt was tight enough to show off curves he wouldn’t have anticipated, given the leanness of her overall silhouette.
She didn’t know what do with her hands, so they fluttered in much the same way his insides were fluttering, as she tried to rest them in her lap.
Are you pondering what might happen when we reach the motel?
Why didn’t she look at him?
Grant’s body and mind were at war with each other over those rampant desires. Emotions usually reserved for after a shape-shift were hitting him hard. Each of his fingertips stung as if his claws were going to make an unexpected appearance...all because of his sudden need for the woman across from him.
Back off, Grant said to his inner wolf.
Keep cool.
Neither he nor Paxton said anything, because what was there to say when she was in the dark about so many things? Strangers had a certain level of anonymity where one-night stands were concerned, she might have been thinking. But they’d have to deal with each other tomorrow.
Will you pack up and go away if we hit that bed together, Paxton? Will shame taint our business dealings after a night in the sack?
She might give up, he supposed, and give in, if shame played a part in a day-after scenario.
He had vowed to stay away from her for so many reasons, and look how that had turned out. The last of his willpower was fleeing because of a woman he’d just met.
All right, he wanted to say to Paxton. You can have it all, and to hell with your dad.
Of course, there was no way he could let Desperado go. Not now. Not ever. As alpha, he had responsibilities that lay beyond Paxton Hall, responsibilities to his pack and any other werewolf looking for help and direction.
How could he tell Paxton how easy it was for him to read her, or how much he shared her discomfort over this whole ordeal?
Pulling into the motel’s parking lot, Grant figured he could change the outcome here. He could drop Paxton off and say good-night. He was close to promising himself to do exactly that, in spite of his urges. Maybe, though, he should walk her to the door. Make sure she got safely inside.
She was out of the truck before he could get around it and coming straight at him. Grant thought she might finally raise a hand and slap him for that kiss. But she didn’t.
Stopping a few feet away from him, she stared. Seconds later, as though pulled by forces beyond her control, her body impacted with his.
So much for vows...
She was in his arms and looking up at him. There was only one thing to do in reaction to that.
Their mouths joined in a kiss that was hungry, angry, deep, and a heady surprise in a growing list of surprises. Touching Paxton’s hot, damp tongue with his was a torment. She nipped at him like an animal with its desire unleashed, as though her wolf was already partially in control of her actions. As if the longings of man and woman, wolf and she-wolf, had joined up, making lust a priority that could not be ignored.
Her breath, in his mouth, was hot. Her skin felt hotter. Was he supposed to brush this off and leave? Put a stop to it?
Was there actually a way to do that?
They wouldn’t get anywhere in the parking lot. Pulling back to catch a breath, Grant again took Paxton’s hand and made for the stairs, still vowing not to let the strength of his insatiable ardor take the lead. He didn’t kick in the door to her room but waited for her to open it with the key she had taken from a pocket.
Then they were inside. Two consenting adults who weren’t quite human, although one of them hadn’t realized that yet.
Maybe he could do this. Possibly Paxton’s wolf wouldn’t respond to his wolf, and it would be all right to indulge in some mind-blowing sex. She’d go away tomorrow and the chains he feared would go with her.
Telling himself that was a lie, of course, and Grant knew it.
He unbuttoned his shirt quickly, studying Paxton for any sign that she was going to change her mind. When she removed her T-shirt, silky blond hair brushed the tops of her shoulders, sending him a drift of that fragrant, woodsy perfume.
She stood by the window in her jeans and a filmy lace bra that would be no barrier whatsoever to the deliciousness beneath it. He could have looked at her like this forever, staring, thankful, ravenous. His body pulsed with longing. His temperature spiked dramatically. His inner wolf, caught up in these new emotions, wanted to get in on the fun.
Without knowing how he got there, he had Paxton on the bed, on her back, and was leaning over her with his hands on the mattress. Her face was serious, sober. She was quiet.
Kissing her again, briefly, teasingly, he drew in her breath and played with her lower lip, backing off seconds later to look into her eyes. The corners of her lips quirked to show him she was on board. Her scent already saturated his face and his skin with she-wolf pheromones that were exotic and intoxicating.
Paxton was gloriously beautiful, and also so very small when pitted against the sheer force of his desire for her. Having her for himself had become necessary. Grant felt truly possessive as he got down to the business of removing her shoes. He then rested a hand on her zipper, testing his willpower by waiting out several harsh breaths, counting each tick of passing time through the strong pulses in his neck.
The zipper hummed a siren’s tune as it slid downward. There was still time for Paxton to stop this. Once her jeans came off, it would be too late.
All you have to do is whisper one word, Paxton, and I’ll be gone.
That word didn’t come.
Fragile lace underwear, a deep midnight black, peeked out from behind the zipper, barely covering a taut belly that stretched between sharp-bladed hip bones. Grant stared at those things as if temporarily transfixed until Paxton made an impatient sound that made him glance up.
“What are you?” she asked when their eyes met.
“Hungry,” he replied.
Paxton’s amber eyes were bright. She wasn’t smiling now. He knew she couldn’t possibly have seen the wolf lurking behind the man’s facade, because she wasn’t yet in a position to recognize it. So he waited for her to back up her question.
“I’m not sure what this means,” she said.
She was confessing to being as confused as he was about ending up on this bed with a stranger. Grant supposed she thought men were often more lax about casual sex than women were.
“Does it have to mean anything?” he asked.
“I have a feeling it does.”
“Yes,” he admitted, while knowing Paxton couldn’t possibly understand the intricacies of wolf needs, even though her comment showed that she was trying to find a reason for putting herself in this situation. “I have that same feeling.”
Her face was smooth and expressionless. “If I think about it, I won’t want this to happen,” she confessed.
“Should I go?”
She shook her head. “Don’t you dare.”
Those were the words Grant wanted to hear. Two tugs over Paxton’s sleek thighs, and her jeans hit the floor. The next question Grant faced was whether he would take the time to fully undress, or if his rush to have her would win out. He was hard, aching and barely able to suppress a groan. In spite of the things she’d noted, Paxton was willing.
She sat up gracefully, bare except for the insignificant lingerie. Pushing him away, she got to her feet and backed him toward the wall by the door. With shaky fingers, she unbuckled his belt and slid his zipper downward without taking her gaze from his. In those amber eyes, Grant watched a flicker of wildness grow.
Deep inside him, his wolf moved, stirred by his racing pulse. He’d never felt so large, so strong, raw and powerful as he did right that moment. Hell, yes, he wanted this. Wanted her. What he felt for Paxton Hall, the sheer depth of emotion, was a first for him. He’d been with plenty of women. Hell, he was no saint. But he hadn’t felt the need to devour or possess any of them.
As much as he hated to believe it, signs all pointed to that damn word he had managed to avoid for all of his life so far. Imprint. Because if that were true, and that’s what was happening to the two of them, there really would be no escape clause if and when Paxton’s wolf finally emerged.
It was far too late to worry about that now. Paxton’s hands were on his zipper. Her fair hair curtained the sides of her face, contributing to that hint of wildness. Contained in the gleam of her golden eyes were flames that might have set his soul on fire.
“To hell with it,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around her. “Question time is over.”
Paxton’s breath whooshed out as he took her back to the bed with the kind of speed she should have questioned. As he stretched out beside her, Grant bristled with pleasure. His wolf silently called to hers, but the moon wasn’t full tonight, and that fact was in Grant’s favor. Man to woman was how this was going down. Paxton couldn’t shift without that moon, given that now was the time for her first transformation to happen. He didn’t have to worry about intimacy tonight, though tomorrow would be another matter.