Lone Wolf
Page 20

And Ellison was . . . sexy. The way he danced to the country tunes at Liam’s bar revealed his grace, and she felt it now as he held her without effort as she kissed him.
Maria had never touched a man like this. Her experience with sex had been limited to Luis deciding when, where, and how. Luis done all of the touching, and that hadn’t been much.
Ellison was different. He caressed her back, easing her closer, kissed her lower lip then the corner of her mouth.
“I think I’m liking this kissing thing,” he said.
“Me too.”
Ellison touched his forehead to hers. “I’m not going to mate-claim you right now. Much as I want to. I told Broderick to give you a little space, and I will too. What I’m going to do instead is teach you how to love life.”
Maria looked up at him in confusion. “I do like my life now. It’s much, much better here than it’s ever been.”
“No, sweetheart, you’re only surviving. Maybe basic surviving is a little easier now, but you’re still living in the shadow of all that pain and fear. You want to go to school because—why? It will help you survive better?”
She shook her head. “I want to be a doctor, to take care of people. I can live anywhere if I do that, maybe go back to Mexico and help people who don’t have anyone. Or find people here that need the same thing.”
“You’re kindhearted. But it’s still surviving. What you mean is you want a way to take care of yourself, so you don’t live under someone else’s thumb ever again. Not Shifters, not family, not friends, not anyone.”
He understood. Ellison’s eyes sparkled gray in the sunlight and were full of knowledge. How he knew exactly what went on in her heart Maria wasn’t sure, but he did.
Maria’s voice was quiet. “I never want to be enslaved again.”
“Neither do I.” Ellison’s hand went to his Collar. “You know what Shifters know—what we’ve learned? That it’s not enough only to survive. We want to live.”
“I want to live too. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. But when I tried, I nearly destroyed myself.” Maria drew a breath, stifled a new wash of tears that threatened to flow. “So now I’m happy with survival.”
“No you’re not. But I tell you what, love, any other woman who’d been through what you have would be dead by now, or maybe in constant therapy on happy drugs. You’re strong, one of the strongest women I know. Now let me teach you how to use that strength, to grab on to life and make it yours.”
She wanted to believe him. Ellison’s eyes sparkled with liveliness, the man more alive than anyone she knew.
“How?”
Ellison seized her hand in a strong grip, and grinned. It was a wide, warm grin, as big as Texas. “Come on with me, sweetheart, and I’ll show you.”
***
They rode. Ellison zoomed the motorcycle down another back highway, the road a black line to the horizon.
Maria threw her head back and let the wind catch her hair. It was warm, the early May heat full of the promise of summer. Fields rushed by, green hills rolling from the river as the Colorado snaked eastward to the Gulf.
After about thirty miles or so, Ellison dove off the highway to another twisting dusty road that led down to the river bottoms, stretches of it overhung with trees. Ellison slowed, and Maria rested her head against his shoulder, ducking low branches and the black swarms of bugs that the little hollows bred.
They came off the winding road to a narrow lane, and a small trailer house set up on cement blocks, under the overhang of stooping trees. The tiny lane ended at this house, and the man standing in front of it with a shotgun.
Chapter Nine
Ellison halted the bike a respectful distance away and held up his hands. “Peace, Granger. It’s only me.”
“Ellison?” The man uncocked and lowered the shotgun, shaking his head. “Shit, you should have called first. I was about to blow your head off.”
“Didn’t know I was coming.” Ellison shut down the bike and tilted it a little so Maria could slide off. He settled the motorcycle in place, pulled his hat out of the saddlebag, and took Maria’s hand. “This is my friend, Maria. How’s the water?”
The man called Granger chuckled. “Nice.” His hair hung in a long dark ponytail, his face bore a coating of unshaved whiskers, and his full-muscled arms were covered with tattoos. His eyes, now that they weren’t glittering over the barrel of the shotgun, were full of good humor.
“Water?” Maria asked.
“Swimming hole.” Ellison winked at her. “Come on.”
Granger shouldered the shotgun. “You kids enjoy yourselves, now.”
Maria gave Granger a polite smile as Ellison led her past him. “It is nice to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Granger said.
Ellison led Maria into the trees, pushing aside branches for her, taking her down a steep hill. At the bottom, a wide pond, formed by a rivulet snaking from the main river, spread like a sheet of silver, sparkling under the sun.
The banks of the small lake ran up into the trees, and clumps of bluebonnets spread across every open, sunny space. Birds skimmed across the far side of the water, a wading bird turning its head to watch them approach.
Maria, having grown up in arid lands, always marveled that water could simply be. The life water gave—the birds, trees, wildflowers, tall grasses—constantly amazed her. The heat and humidity under the trees had perspiration dripping down her face, but she looked around with wonder.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Don’t really know. I found this place when I was running as wolf one day. Granger tried to shoot me, I dodged the blast and knocked him down, and we became friends. He knows I need the space to run sometimes, and he keeps people away when I do. He’s a good guy.”
Maria thought about Granger’s tattoos, which Spike had taught her about this past year. She suspected Granger had gotten some of them in prison, but she said nothing.
“It’s a beautiful place.”
“Sure is.” Ellison hung his hat on the limb of a bush that stuck out from the trees. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off, hanging it next to the hat. “Don’t always see the bluebonnets either. You need the right amount of rain, the right amount of sunshine. We got lucky.”
He wore a tight black T-shirt, which he also shucked, then he got out of his boots. Sunlight touched the liquid warmth of his skin and the butter-colored highlights in his hair.