To Tempt the Wolf
Page 11

“See anyone?”
“No one’s there.” He turned to face her, the breeze blowing his hair across his cheeks, softening his dark expression. “What do you think you heard?”
“Someone opening a drawer.”
Hunter dumped the sweats on the mattress and peered under the bed. He set the lantern down, and then crossed the floor to the dresser. When she saw what he was about to do, she hurried to help him move the furniture. His muscles strained as he did the majority of the work, and she cringed to think he might injure himself further.
After they had blocked the window with the heavy mahogany dresser, he grabbed the sweats and lantern.
“He won’t be getting in that way again.”
“Do you think I really heard him? Or do you think I imagined it?” she asked, hoping the intruder hadn’t slipped back in as she led Hunter into her bedroom.
“Could have been the wind. I’ll board up the window in the morning and replace it once we pick up a new one.”
Brother, here she worried about him getting too amorous with her in bed, and he was saving her butt again. The long-standing distrust of men she had didn’t help. Not after her father had been one of the worst womanizers in the small community. How her mother had put up with him and his philandering ways she could never fathom.
“I’ll leave this lantern on in the bathroom in case you need something in the middle of the night.” She noted he had put on a pair of pale gray sweatpants, but not the sweatshirt. “Aren’t you going to be cold?”
He cast her a small smile and her cheeks heated. Since he was so comfortable showing off his nudity, he probably usually slept in the raw.
“I’ll leave a spare toothbrush on the bathroom counter for you. Be right out.”
“Thanks, Tessa. I’ll lie down until you’re through.”
But he glanced at her bedroom window, and she bet he wanted to check outside for the intruder. “You’ve got to be exhausted, Hunter. Don’t worry about him. I’ll be quick.”
As much raw sexual energy as he exuded, she wasn’t sure sleeping with him was such a good idea after all.
But when she exited the bathroom, expecting to find him lying on the bed, half-asleep, she found the room empty. Sitting by the remnants of the fire then?
Cinching up her velour robe, she hurried down the hall with lantern in hand to let him know the bathroom was free, but there was no sign of him in the living room. She rushed to the picture window and peered out. He couldn’t be out in this awful weather.
Not anywhere in sight. Hurrying to the back door, she halfway expected him to trudge up the hill with another enormous load of firewood.
“Looking for someone?” he asked behind her, his voice dark and husky.
She squeaked and whirled around. “My god, Hunter. Where were you?”
He held up a shaving kit. “I found it in the guest bathroom. I hope your brother won’t mind if I shaved.”
His skin was smooth as satin and she wanted to run her hands over his face, feel the velvety skin, smell the citrus spice aftershave, but more than that, she wanted another of his soul-piercing kisses. She chastised herself. He probably had a wife.
“He won’t mind that you’ve used his things while he’s… away. He’ll be glad you were here to watch over me. And that you’ve offered to help me find Bethany’s killer so we can free him.”
A subtle shadow fell over his face, and she wondered if he’d changed his mind. Well, she hadn’t. “If you don’t need anything else…”
He moved out of her path and bowed his head slightly.
The frigid air wasn’t the only thing that chilled her to the bone. She had quickly become used to the idea she’d have a real man on her side to help her locate Bethany’s murderer.
She shouldn’t have gotten her hopes up.
Tessa grabbed the tie to her robe, then apparently thinking better of it, she climbed into bed dressed in fluffy pink socks, polka-dot pink and green pajamas, and the emerald robe. He had never seen a woman so clothed in bed. He stifled a chuckle. The big bad wolf would not eat her all up, unless she chose it and he was free to do so.
She kept her distance, staying near the opposite edge of the soft queen-sized mattress, which was understandable since he was a stranger. But she needed someone to hold her tight after her harrowing day—the trial, the intruder, finding a near dead man on the beach. She cast wistful looks at him when she didn’t think he could see her in the dark.
He took a long-suffering breath. Patience was definitely not one of his virtues, but he needed a place to stay until he could sort out his situation. The best thing he could do was ignore his cravings when it came to the woman who stirred his desire with a smile, a touch, and the scent of her subtle aroused state.
Forget patience or the right or wrong of it. “Join me, Tessa. The room’s too cold. I promise I’ll behave.” At least that was the plan.
“You’re injured.”
He’d suffer anything to have her in his arms. “I’ll let you know if I’m hurting.”
Silence. He smiled. She was thinking on it. He waited, anticipating enveloping her soft body in his. She shook her head. He groaned inwardly.
“I’m fine. If you get too cold, throw on Michael’s sweatshirt. You can get some of his sweaters, socks, whatever else you need to stay toasty.”
“If you change your mind and want me to warm you up, just slide over here.”
Forever, he waited for her to come to him. The wind whipped around the house in a howling frenzy while the rain continued to pelt the roof and windows. Every bit of the cold seemed to have made it inside her home and the bedroom was icier than her freezer. But still, he would not bundle up in tons of clothes when he had a perfectly good woman to snuggle with.
Then her leg jerked. Her arm twitched. She was asleep. She rolled over. Was she joining him?
Her foot shot out and connected with his knee. Pain flared through the tendons and surrounding tissue. Hell, he already had a bruise the size of a melon there. Before he could pull her into his arms, she rolled over again. Night terrors? Nightmares? He reached over to rub her back, to comfort her, when her elbow jabbed him in the chest.
Not what he had in mind after frolicking in the ocean, battered against the rocks in the icy water. Then the sound of distant gunfire caught his attention. As a lupus garou, shouldn’t the shots grip him with terror? Adrenaline flooded his system, but he wasn’t afraid. In fact, for whatever reason, he felt the oddest urge to take up a gun and retaliate.
If the shooter was nearby, Hunter would make him move so he wouldn’t wake Tessa. Time to see if the gray who broke into her home was wandering around outside at this hour also.
Careful not to wake Tessa, Hunter climbed out of bed, covered her up, observed her hair splayed across the pillow, her lashes twitching, her alluring lips parted slightly, inviting another kiss. He took a deep, settling breath. A mermaid from the sea, and just as alluring. He groaned to himself, seized Michael’s shoes and sweatshirt, and hurried from the bedroom.
He thought of changing by the shed, but he couldn’t risk Tessa catching him shapeshifting. With Michael’s field jacket and gloves tucked under his arm, he found a plastic garbage bag to stick them in to keep them dry while he searched for the gray in his wolf form.
At least it seemed like a good strategy. But the way things were going for him lately…
He’d had enough bad luck to last him at least one human’s lifetime.
In the middle of the night, the sound of gunfire in the distance woke Tessa. She jerked her head around and stared at the empty bed. No Hunter. Her heart raced and she practically flew off the mattress. Grabbing the lantern from the bathroom, she hurried down the hall. “Hunter?”
No answer.
She half-expected him to be asleep on the couch because she’d been tossing and turning so much, her usual mode of sleep since her brother had been incarcerated.
“Hunter?” She peered into the living room.
No sign of him. She headed back down the hall to the guest bedroom. He wasn’t there either. Michael’s bedroom would be way too cold.
Where was he?
Another shot rang out.
It was January and no one should be hunting big game along the coast, and not this early in the morning for game bird hunting either. Two more shots were fired. Then silence. She barely breathed.
Michael’s field jacket was gone, so were his gloves and her ski hat.
“Hunter,” she said under her breath.
The back door jerked open, and she squealed. Hunter frowned at her as he stalked inside with an armload of wood. “You should be sleeping.”
“It’s the middle of the night. Didn’t you hear that maniac shooting out there? He shouldn’t be hunting, but what if you’d gotten in his line of sight? What if he was a poacher?”
Hunter dumped the firewood on the dwindling stack, yanked off the gloves, and her hat. “Four more hours until it’s daylight. Electricity is still off.”
She relocked the back door. “Hope that idiot hunter doesn’t shoot anymore. I hate it when they come into the area.”
He looked in the direction the gunshots had been coming from and shrugged. “He probably ran out of bullets.”
“Like they ever do.”
“Miss me?”
She rolled her eyes as they returned to the bedroom. “The gunshots woke me.”
He reached up and massaged the tension from her shoulders. Man, did his fingers work magic on her tension-filled muscles—she felt like dissolving into the carpet.
“Then after you woke, you missed me. Admit it. Having me warm your bed hasn’t been so bad after all, has it?”
She hmpfed. “Now you’re icy and will make the bed cold.” She climbed under the covers while he slipped the field jacket off his shoulders, and then stripped out of the sweatshirt.
He reached for the sweatpants, then seeing her mouth drop and probably thinking better of it, he joined her in bed still wearing them. “You’re right. I’m cold. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want. I’m… gay, remember?” He gave her a devious smirk. “Just come over here and warm me. I gathered enough firewood to keep us toasty for most of the day, didn’t I?”