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Trish snorted her disapproval. “Miles? Like that’s comforting?”
“I have a gun.”
Skylar’s announcement preceded a beat of silence over the line.
“You what?” Trish eventually said.
“It was Dad’s. I took it from the trunk.”
“What trunk would that be?” Trish asked. Demanded, really, in her best cross-examination style.
“The one I found in the attic here. It’s loaded and I know how to use it. We all do.”
Trish sighed unhappily. Trisha Lilith Donovan saw far too many weapons in her job as a prosecuting attorney to be comfortable with any of them. And Trish, as the eldest sibling and the only Donovan kid not named after a bird, felt responsible for the rest of the motherless girls.
“I suppose being engaged to the cop for twelve months also had its perks in the weapons department?” Trish suggested.
Skylar lowered the phone to take a deep breath so that Trish wouldn’t hear it. Trish had said “the cop,” avoiding the use of Danny’s name.
Skylar raised the receiver when she heard Trish calling her name.
“Skye? Skylar?”
“Sorry. I have something cooking on the stove. Can we talk later?”
“You’re putting me off. We haven’t discussed—”
“Good. Thanks,” Skylar interrupted. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”
“Skye, wait. I’m sorry I brought up the cop. Really sorry.”
“No sweat. I’ve moved on, that’s all.”
“I know, but...”
“It’s all right. I haven’t been a baby for twenty-three years now. Nor have I ever needed help in making up my mind about something.”
“I know that, too. But you will always be my baby sister. You can confide in me.”
“I’m all right, I swear. My fiancé was a bastard, and it took me too long to figure that out. I’m off the hook now. That’s how I look at the breakup. Possibly it was an act of divine intervention in my favor. I feel relief, if you want the truth. We’ll talk again tomorrow. Okay?”
“Oh, all right.”
“Bye, Trish.”
Skylar signed off before the arguments could start up again, and with them the apologies about things not working out with Detective Danny Parker, who had gotten her close enough to matrimony to actually buy the dress.
But it had never been a match made in heaven, and she’d known that, deep down inside. She’d merely been going through the motions.
Worse, in terms of regrets, was realizing she’d gone along with Danny’s little mental abuses, and had been swept up in them, rather than openly exerting her true rebellious personality. That hadn’t been like her at all, really. And she hadn’t been lying to Trish about the relief.
Palming her cell phone, Skylar checked the screen for calls, half expecting Trish to call back. Then she set the phone on the table. Service was spotty in the mountains, and only seemed to like this small area in the front room of the cabin—a fact that wasn’t exactly comforting, she supposed, though Trish didn’t need to know that, either.
“And if you knew what else I found in that trunk of Dad’s, Trish, you’d send in the tanks,” she muttered.
Not only had she found the gun in that trunk, well-oiled and ready to go, it was loaded with unusual ammunition that had to have helped shape her dreams. She was sure that silver bullets weren’t the norm for anyone, outside of people chasing their own form of madness.
Glancing up at the ceiling as if she could see through the rough wooden beams, she said, “Neither are they standard in a psychiatrist’s medicine bag.”
In the past, she would have called Danny to talk about this, but she was on her own now—which left her imagination wide-open. Because shiny silver ammunition, unless merely something a collector might covet, was de rigueur for hunting...
“Werewolves.”
Skylar turned toward the window, attuned to the drop in temperature that signaled another day’s end. Nightfall wasn’t far off.
“Damn it, Trish. I need to find out what our father was up to, and why it might have killed him.”
Solving the mystery of her father’s frequent disappearances was paramount, as was finding out why he needed so much time away from everyone he supposedly loved.
But hell, Dad. Silver bullets?
In all truth, she had to admit, being in this cabin for a few days by herself, with her dad’s things, had caused her more discomfort than seeing Danny’s face when she told him the engagement was off.
The men in her life were gone, and she was far too intelligent to imagine that velvet-voiced rangers could have stepped out of her dreams.
As for monsters...
The moon would be completely full in another twenty-four hours, a big deal in werewolf lore, at least in the movies. If the approaching moon was some kind of supernatural stimulant, all werewolves would be affected. If there were such things as man-wolf creatures, her dream lover would be affected, too. And with her dad’s gun under her pillow, she’d be ready for anything that dream had to offer.
Chapter 3
Gavin hadn’t found the trail of the creature he sought. Although he’d gotten close enough to taste its feral presence, one too many detours had brought him back, time and time again, to stare at the cabin, wishing to see her.
He hadn’t meant to circle back. He had, in fact, been heading in the opposite direction. Yet here he was again, staring down at the blasted cabin, telling himself, “Don’t be an idiot. No one needs a woman that bad.”
Obviously, he didn’t believe that on some level.
The beast he hunted, which had a fondness for blood and sacrifices, disappeared just after midnight. After following its malevolent stench south, the damn thing vanished into thin air. He’d spent a fruitless night backtracking all over the mountain, and more time searching throughout the day to make sure he hadn’t missed anything crucial. Now, once again, darkness wasn’t far off, putting him a hell of a lot closer to the phase of the moon that counted.
He eyed the cabin warily, figuring that if his interest in the woman down there kept up, he’d have to chain himself to the Jeep to avoid showing up on her doorstep, in person. The next time he confronted that woman, she might do more than point the weapon in his direction. She might actually pull the trigger.
He thought about that gun, and what it might do to him.
It was possible that he could he survive a bullet at close range, but it would certainly slow him down. When the beast inside him took over, several bullets might be required to make a permanent dent.
In theory, anyway.
He’d only tested his survival skills once, when he was accidentally hit by an arrow fired at him by mistake. That hunter now spent time in a cell.
And by the way...that arrow had been a bitch.
Gavin searched the clearing.
The cabin looked quiet in the evening light, though he knew the woman hadn’t taken his advice and hit the road. A ribbon of gray smoke rose from the chimney.
Stubborn streak?
Who in their right mind remained resistant to a ranger’s warning, or stepped outside in the middle of the night to face anyone or anything that might be out there?
Not courageous, necessarily. More like impulsive.
Maybe she gets off on danger.
And just maybe he’d make it his business to find out.
Besides, he was ravenous for company, and the smoke coming from the cabin carried the smell of food. If he knocked on the door, was there was a remote possibly she’d invite him in for a bite?
Gavin shook his head, rubbed his eyes.
She shouldn’t be alone. The last death out here had been gruesome. Some poor doctor found in a gulley, sliced to shreds. Gavin had an idea about how that might have happened, and that idea didn’t include a slippery trail. But he couldn’t speak of it to anyone. Who’d believe him?
The doctor who had occupied the cabin died just ten days ago, which made the new occupant’s tenancy a quick turnaround. Possibly the woman was part of that man’s family.
She’d probably have her pants on today.
Smiling felt strange. So did the compulsion to go down there. He didn’t know why this woman’s presence was so intriguing to him that his vow of celibacy strained at its leash.
He was way too hungry for everything that cabin had to offer, for anyone’s good.
As for women? He hadn’t dared to sleep with one since he’d been mauled by a hell demon and his life, as he’d always known it, had ceased to exist. He had no idea how the beast, now an integral part of him, would deal with emotion. He wasn’t sure if this nightmare could be passed to others by way of something as insignificant as a scratch or a kiss.
There seemed to be no rule book for werewolves. No manual. Hell, it was possible there were no others like him, and he’d have to continue to play it by ear.
“Sorry,” Gavin whispered to the female below, though his insides quaked with a longing for what she could offer that bordered on visceral greed.
He craved warmth and closeness and the freedom to fill his lungs with the perfume surrounding this woman like an aura. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her, and see where that led. Test himself. Push himself.
But he had a job to do and a vow to fulfill. He’d find the beast that had ruined his life, and take that beast down. “Not her,” he said to quiet his inner wolf. “Definitely can’t bother this woman.”
Want her, his wolfish side protested with a sharp stomach twist.
“Yes. Okay. I suppose I do,” Gavin admitted as he started down the hill toward the cabin as if pulled there by an invisible chain.
* * *
“Stop right there.”
Obliging, the man by the fence stopped at the gate.
Even if she hadn’t guessed that her nighttime visitor would return, Skylar’s first thought actually would have been ranger due to the light green pants and the shirt with a badge on the pocket.
She wasn’t sure how she noticed the clothing details though, given her initial surprise over how incredibly attractive the rest of him was and how well he fit her dream guy’s stats.
Tall and rangy, his outfit did little to hide masses of lean, well-honed muscle. Other dreamed attributes were there, too: the broad shoulders and narrow waist, the dark brown hair with its loose waves curtaining a chiseled face. From where she stood, it appeared that every body part seemed perfectly balanced and in accord with his beautifully united whole.
Just as she’d imagined.
This was downright uncanny, and maybe even a little scary. Still, while the hunky outdoorsman looked strong, he didn’t look primeval. His fingers didn’t end in razor-sharp claws, though she seemed to recognize him on whatever level of consciousness telegraphed heat.
Skylar felt her temperature begin to rise. Sensitive spots at the base of her spine tingled—a sign that though he hadn’t spoken yet, this guy truly was last night’s visitor, in the flesh.
“You’ve lost your gun,” he finally observed.
Velvet. Yes. His voice was like a velvet blanket, the vocalization of his appearance.
Skylar’s heart fluttered in her chest.
“Do I need it?” She regarded this guy almost rudely, unable to stop the flood of internal warnings about the impossibility of dreams coming to life.
But she couldn’t have made this guy up. He was standing in her yard in the last light of a long day, and was close enough for her to see his face.
She wasn’t dreaming now. That face and its perfectly symmetrical features struck her as being way too familiar.
“The apron suits you,” he said in a teasing manner that might have been inappropriate since they were strangers outside of her fantastically naughty dreams. Nevertheless, she smiled and ran one hand down the front of the dish towel she’d tied around her waist, glad she had on jeans for this reunion.
Her other hand clutched the gun hidden behind her back.
“I guess you’re determined to stay, ignoring the advice of the locals,” he went on.
“I have business to conclude here.”
“Can I ask what that business is?”
“Cleaning up my father’s things. He lived here on and off until recently.”
The ranger kicked dirt off his boots and looked down, suggesting that he knew what had happened to her dad.
“I’m sorry for your loss.” He glanced up again to meet her scrutinizing gaze.
Nervously, Skylar glanced away. The flutter inside her chest spread to her arms. She gripped the gun tighter so she wouldn’t drop the damn thing.
“Were you watching my father, too? He had an accident, they said.”
Skylar let the word accident hang in the air before continuing. “Was anyone patrolling around here when he died?”
Unable to resist the urge to look at him again, almost as if he requested it, she dragged her focus upward until their gazes connected across the small front yard.
Shudders rocked her with the immediacy of the connection, and she shifted from foot to foot to cover the quakes. He stared back at her with a seriousness that set off more alarm bells. His penetrating eyes were very light against his bronzed skin. Though she was unfamiliar with the dream man’s eyes, she was sure these were his.
You’re a handsome sucker, I’ll give you that.
But how do I know you?
Why have I modeled a dream after you?
If she’d met this guy before, she would have remembered, and yet her treacherous body was responding to him as though he’d stepped right out of her dream and was presenting himself to her now in order to culminate all those pent-up feelings.
While reading body language was a trick both her father and her own classes in medical school had taught her, this situation was different. Meeting his gaze was like sharing secrets without having to speak. It felt weird, and also incredibly sexy in a messed-up way.
“Two of us were on duty that night, but not near here,” he said in answer to the question she’d almost forgotten.
“Night?” she echoed. “Dad was hiking at night?”
“I don’t know that for a fact,” he replied. “Sorry again.”
Even in stillness, the ranger seemed to be moving, evidence of the wild streak he harbored. Chances were good he was a loner, preferring to live on the fringes of the city, communing with trees. Weren’t all forest rangers born with some kind of special calling for the great outdoors?
How about werewolves?
Glad she hadn’t said that out loud, Skylar fisted her free hand in the dish cloth, trying on the word figment for size. This ranger, so like the man in her dreams, was quite possibly a figment of her overwrought imagination.
“You don’t need the gun,” he said in a lowered tone. “Not with me.”
Although his blue-eyed gaze held steady, Skylar also noted a hint of weariness in his features. He might have been up all night. He could have been near here the whole time, either guarding this cabin’s sole resident, or drawn to her for reasons that went beyond being neighborly. Reasons like sharing unusual dreams or offering genuine condolences in person for her loss.
Fingers tight on the gun behind her back, Skylar smiled. “Do all rangers have X-ray vision, or just you?”
He shrugged. “Merely an educated guess since you showed me the gun last night.”
“It’s a precaution. After all, how do I know you’re what you say you are?”
“You’re right to mistrust strangers. That’s a good sign.”
“A good sign of what?”
“Wariness, where it’s necessary. Caution. A healthy respect for self-preservation.”
He pulled a small radio from his belt and held it up. “This is how I check in.” He spoke to the radio. “Harris here, on the eastern slope.”
An answer crackled back from the radio, and Skylar heard enough to make her feel better about believing him. His voice, as he spoke, also made her familiarity with it more unsettling. Disconnecting from the dream was proving to be tough.
Puzzled, she said, “I recognize your voice.”
Ranger Harris nodded. “We spoke last night.”
It’s so much more than that. What though?
“Why did you come back today?” she asked.
“I thought I’d check on you. Make sure everything is okay.”
“Do your rounds take in all of the cabins out here?”
“Usually. But very few people are in residence right now.”
“I passed four cabins on my way to this one.”
“Most folks don’t live in them year-round. And those who do have taken off for a while.”
Breaking the disconcerting eye contact, Skylar looked to the east. “Because of what happened to my father?”
“Your father had an accident.”
“So they say.”
Other than offering a brief nod, he didn’t react to her remark.
“You’re alone out here. I just thought you might like to know we’re around,” he said.
“Rangers, you mean?”
“Yes.”
Skylar crossed her arms over her chest, bringing the gun front and center. If nothing else, she needed the weapon to protect her from herself. This guy’s gaze made her feel naked, though he didn’t appear to be staring at anything other than her face. Outwardly, he acted like a gentleman, the warden of this place, but the sparks tickling her insides weren’t appeased by his surface calm, his coolness or his distance.
Hearing him had set off a chain reaction. Too many of her fantasies were built on that voice. In the flesh, this guy, whoever he was, stranger that he might be, was like catnip to a serial dreamer.
Skylar reached for the flush creeping up her neck, hoping to stop it from reaching her face.
“How did they find him?” she finally asked.
Ranger Harris tilted his head to ponder the question.
“Who found my father’s body?”
“Hikers, I believe,” he replied.
“Near here?”
“On the other side of this hill.”
“At night?”
“He was found sometime after sundown, I heard.”
Skylar lowered the gun. “He was barely recognizable.”
“Then I hope you didn’t have to see that, Miss...”
“Donovan. Skylar Donovan.”
He nodded.
“No one in my family saw him. His partner at the hospital identified his body, and she believed it best we didn’t see him...under the circumstances.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sorry for what? she thought. For my father’s death? For making me want to forget we’re strangers?
Pressing back a strand of hair that had slipped from her ponytail, Skylar remembered how Danny preferred her hair shorter than she wore it. He hadn’t liked her in jeans like the ones she wore now. Her cop had been critical about so many things she liked to do and certainly never would have approved of her being out here alone. Control freak would have been a good description of his personality.
She had gone along with Danny’s preferences for the sake of trying to appear normal, feel normal, be part of a couple...when she had always known it wouldn’t work out in the end.
Her next shiver was in the bastard ex-fiancé’s honor.
“Are you okay?” the man across from her asked.
“Yes,” she lied. “Anyway, I suppose accidents happen.”
“Too often,” he agreed.
“Especially in this kind of terrain?”
“The trails are tricky,” he concurred. “Moreso when wet.”
He hadn’t budged from his position near the gate. Skylar wondered if he wanted to but was afraid he’d frighten her. Realizing how nuts it might be to trust him at all, she said, “Would you like something to drink? I’ve got lemonade.”
“Lemonade would be nice. Thanks. It’s been a fairly warm day, despite the end of summer, and I didn’t take time for lunch.”
“Come in, then. We can sit on the porch.”
“I’d like that. Mind if I wash my hands?”
“There’s a hose by the corner of the cabin, and a bar of soap in a pail.”
The ranger opened the tiny gate and closed it behind him. Having him on her side of the fence gave her an unanticipated thrill, despite the fence being no more than hip high and easy enough to knock over with one good shove.
The closer he got, the more her body reacted to him. She wanted to get close to this guy, feel him, smell him. She wanted him down and dirty, filthy hands and all.
That damn dream...
Ranger Harris was a delectable mixture of all the things that made a man a man. Equally rugged and elegant, he moved with the casual, effortless grace of an animal, sinew and muscle seeming to work without the impediment of an underlying bone structure. Predatory animals moved like that. Tigers, lions, cheetahs.
Wolves.
Skylar nearly dropped the gun and fumbled to secure it in her grip. Hell, did she have to distort everything?
This guy, with his badge and radio, was not the creature of her dreams. He wasn’t a creature at all. Her idea that he could be one virtually screamed of her desire to get over what had happened with Danny. Her imagination was twisting situations to match wishes that were nothing more than a bunch of dangling loose ends.
“There’s a towel on the rack,” she called out.
“Thanks.” He crouched down to lift the hose, his green shirt stretching across his shoulders and threatening to tear at the seams. His dark hair, thick with a slight curl, brushed against the back of his collar when his head tilted forward.
She had always loved hair like that. Hair made for running fingers through. Hair that would tickle bare skin in moments of intimacy, and provide something to hang on to.
Skylar cringed, and gave herself a stern silent reprimand.
I will not take this guy to bed.
No way was she going to indulge in her first one-night stand in the middle of a forest, even if he were willing to take her up on what she was thinking.
That’s what her mind said.
Her body told her otherwise. There had been far too many erotic thoughts about rugged men lately to ignore what was right in front of her. And he was interested in her. He couldn’t hide that fact any more than she could hide her interest in him. He kept looking her way.
Something came to life within her as she watched him. The sensation wasn’t familiar, and was centered so deep down inside her body it mimicked the feel of a rising sexual climax.
Working hard to keep from sliding a hand between her thighs to ease the pressure building there, Skylar withheld a sigh that might have given away her fanciful state of neediness. Everything about this cabin and what happened around it was strange. She felt strange...and very much like the predator here.
How’s that for a switch?
“I’ll get the pitcher,” she said as the internal flares going off reached unbearable levels, threatening to burn her up if left untended. She wanted to rush into this guy’s arms. Would he be shocked if she did?
“I’ll be right back,” she said. Yet she didn’t turn away, fascinated by the way the ranger’s pants adhered to every line and curve of his masculine, muscular backside. Fully aware of how forceful his thrusts into a woman would be with powerful musculature like that.
The oncoming twinge of greed made Skylar cross her legs. Danny had been in good shape, but this guy was exceptional. Almost too perfect. If she looked harder, would she find proof of a hidden wildness that made perfection an art form? One little slip on his part, and he’d growl? There’d be fur in unusual places and spring-loaded claws on those wet hands?
He was looking at her intently.
She’d forgotten to go for the lemonade.
Cheeks flushed with heat, Skylar tried to smile. “I was wondering if you’re working tomorrow night, too.”
He turned off the water and got to his feet. “I’m here all week.”