Both Duane and his friend leaned onto the bar and faced TD&D, all smiles and slimeball. The pissed look on TD&D’s face made me think he was going to jump to my defense like a knight in shining armor, but he didn’t. I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or flattered that he had paid attention to the fact that I liked to handle my own crap. He turned a look on Duane’s friend that could make a lesser man pee his pants. Duane’s friend swallowed hard but maintained his cocky look.
Sensing the brewing brawl, I tried to keep them in my peripheral as I slung a few drinks to people down the bar. When I turned my back I overheard Duane say, “Damn, that is one fine ass.”
My teeth clenched. A glass slammed hard enough onto the wooden bar to ensure I’d have to check it for cracks. “Drop the disrespectful comments, now,” TD&D’s voice rumbled.
“Or what?” Duane egged him on. When TD&D didn’t respond, Duane went on. “You’ll shut it for me, pretty boy? Sonya can take care of herself.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that, but I don’t like people who are disrespectful to women. And now that you know that, if you keep running your mouth, you’ll be offending me,” TD&D said in that sexy, scary voice that promised bad things.
In hopes of heading off a fight, I strode down to them, hands on my hips. TD&D fixed Duane with a smile that made the cowboy look like he was staring at a trig question. “How about we handle this like grownups in a way that doesn’t get any of us thrown out. You boys up for a game of darts?” TD&D asked.
Duane’s friend leaped from his stool, a big, goofy smile splitting his face. “Hell yeah we are!”
Inwardly, I cringed. Duane liked to hustle guys at darts on a regular basis. He was pretty good at it. He slapped TD&D on the shoulder hard enough it would have staggered most men, but TD&D didn’t budge an inch. “You’re on, my man.”
TD&D grinned. “And here I thought you didn’t swing my way, what with you harassing Sonya and all.”
The scarlet that erupted in Duane’s cheeks almost made me laugh out loud. I held it in at the last moment. Revulsion pinched his face into an ugly mask of fear and prejudice.
“Hell no, man. I ain’t like that,” he spat.
“You’re not saying there’s something wrong with being gay, are you? Because if you are—”
“Oh come on, are we going to play darts or have a pissing match?” Duane’s friend whined, sounding very uncomfortable with the turn of conversation.
TD&D laughed and slapped Duane on the shoulder, making him jump and stagger. “Relax. I was just messing with you.”
The way Duane’s face scrunched up made it look like he wanted to gnaw TD&D’s hand off. Considering TD&D had at least thirty pounds of muscle on Duane, it looked like that would be a bad idea. But common sense—or really sense of any kind—wasn’t Duane’s thing. The nervous way Duane’s friend danced from foot to foot and kept eyeing the exit revealed that he might have sense enough for both of them. A wicked thread deep inside me wanted to see Duane and TD&D go at it. The side of me that toiled not so tirelessly at becoming a doctor raged against the idiots actually wanting to hurt each other. They both postured for a second, chests puffing up, eyes locking with intent despite the smile on TD&D’s face.
That smile became genuine and too gorgeous for my own good as it turned on me. “I’m coming back to find out where that trail is,” he said.
The power of those captivating eyes of his made my blood pump to my cheeks and heat my skin with what was no doubt a bright pink blush. Smiling against my will, I shook my head and moved to a patron down the bar who hollered for another round. A guy with a gaze that stunning was bad news and that was the last thing I needed right now. The first thing I needed was good tips to help take the edge of the gargantuan student loans that had forced me to take the semester off. I put my cheeriest game face on and got to work.
While I slung drinks to the leering cowboys in their designer hats and cowgirls in their blingy boots that had never seen a drop of cow shit, I watched TD&D. From the bits I occasionally heard over the noise of the bar, they chipped at and teased one another. After a few minutes, though, it became good-natured. Soon they were laughing and slapping one another on the back as they shared tips and tricks for throwing darts. It was all TD&D. He had a way about him that put them at ease, made them laugh, hell, a magnetism that made them want to be around him. And they weren’t the only ones.
Women in their painted-on jeans immediately flocked to the group, cheering TD&D on, pawing at him every time he stepped back to give one of the other guys a turn at throwing. He evaded them with what looked like practiced ease, positioning himself with a stool or a table between them. Though he smiled and spoke polite words to them, his gaze kept returning to me. I didn’t want to be flattered by the fact that he ignored a leggy blond beautiful enough to grace the header of a fashion website. Instead, he watched little old me who looked like I’d walked out of the ghetto of a reservation. He could just be one of those guys that had a fetish about Native women. But it wasn’t sexual fantasy lust I saw in his eyes; it was actual interest.
By the time they finished their dart game, the guys parted like old friends who couldn’t wait to get back together again. Duane and his friend sauntered off to a recently vacated table and TD&D made his way up to the bar. Every stool was occupied, but he managed to slip between two patrons with a smile and a few polite words. Our gazes locked and warmth spread through me. Grinning like a teenager with a crush, I gravitated toward him.
I leaned over the bar so I wouldn’t have to shout. And, I couldn’t lie to myself; I wanted to be closer to him. “That was impressive,” I said.
One eyebrow rose. “The dart game?”
“Yes, but not that. The way you went from a claws-out pissing match to being best buds with those guys. Not many could have done that, let alone would have bothered trying.”
Eyes casting down, shoulders going up in a shrug, he smiled all demure like, and dammit if it wasn’t cute as hell. “My father taught me fighting should always be a last resort.”
“Sounds like you have a wise dad.”
The smile morphed into a serious look. “I do.”
Someone called for a drink down the bar. This time I didn’t want the excuse to stop talking to TD&D. But, tips paid the bills. Shooting him an apologetic smile, I started down the bar. His hand shot out and covered mine. He turned my hand over and placed something in it; a note with a phone number on it.
“No pressure, but I’d love it if you could show me that trail,” he said.
The way those gorgeous eyes pleaded with me from under his dark brows made my insides want to melt. He didn’t seem at all like the bad news I’d thought he was when he first walked in. What would it hurt?
“How do I know you’re not a serial killer or something trying to get me alone in the woods?” I half teased.
He laughed. “You don’t, but I have a feeling you can take care of yourself.”
That definitely charmed the pants off me. Little did he know I was a med student who would capture a spider and take it outside rather than kill it. But I liked that he didn’t underestimate me just because I was a woman, and that he was willing to say so in front of the whole bar.
He gestured to the people in the bar. “Besides, we have all these witnesses that know I asked you to take me there.”
Lips pursed, I nodded. “If I choose to dial these digits, what do I call you?”
His smile became radiant. Before that moment, I never would have thought of a man’s smile as radiant, but damn it all if his wasn’t enough to outshine the sun. The heat it put out could be downright dangerous.
“Raul. Raul Anderson.”
“Raul?” I asked to make sure I’d heard him right. He nodded. “Okay, Raul. You’re on. I’m Sonya.”
His eyes closed for a moment like someone savoring a great piece of chocolate. “Sonya, I look forward to hearing from you.” The way he said my name made my vulva muscles dance.
And just like
that, I knew it was a bad idea. But, I also knew I’d be making that phone call.
Chapter Two
Raul
That woman was just too sexy for my own good. I needed to run like a running back playing for the pros; in more ways than one, but only one was an option. After a restless night at the winery B&B just outside of Twin Falls, breakfast, and a few hours waiting for my phone to ring, I drove way up into the Sawtooth mountains. My skin itched from the inside out with the desire to shift into wolf form and blow off this energy. But that hadn’t been an option back in Twin Falls. The parks in town were small and hedged in with agricultural fields and residential areas. According to the brochures in the foyer of the B&B, there were plenty of waterfalls and hiking trails around. Problem was, there were plenty of people around too.
So, a long drive to the rarely used forest roads deep in the mountain it was. As a ranger for the state of Montana, I knew just where to find the best places, those roads abandoned by the state because they didn’t have the money for their upkeep. Idaho was no different. The amount of dust on my black Porsche made me wish I’d brought my dual sport motorcycle instead. A twinge of guilt dug at me for getting such a beautiful car dirty. I probably should have rented a Jeep, but that would have felt too much like my work vehicle, and I just couldn’t stomach how slow they drove.
Evergreen trees swallowed the road ahead, stretching up toward the blue sky. Dust motes filled the golden-hued early evening air. It had taken three hours and as many forestry roads to get deep enough into the mountains to reach somewhere secluded. I stepped off the overgrown dirt road into knee-high grass. The greedy gulp of mountain air I took filled my lungs to capacity. It tasted sweet, like pine trees and freedom.
I left my jacket and boots in the car, locked it out of habit even though there wasn’t a human soul around for miles, and started off into the thick trees. The cool shade welcomed me by raising bumps along my skin. It wasn’t cold that caused the reaction—even though it was less than sixty on a summer day—but anticipation. My kind didn’t get cold very easily. A good distance from the car, I found a fir tree with boughs that swept the grass. I stripped completely and hid my clothes beneath it. Mountain air tickled along my exposed skin, making my balls tighten.
I called my wolf up. My skin warmed slightly as my body vibrated and atoms flowed. A second later my paws hit the ground and the world exploded into a million different scents. I shook from my nose to my tail, twisting my neck in the back and forth motion that moved every strand of grey, white, and black hair. Blinking to adjust my brain to the world becoming shades of red and blue, I suppressed a howl of celebration. It would be dangerous to attract that kind of attention. Even when times were good, too many people killed wolves on sight, some to protect their livestock, some out of fear, and the worst did it just for sport. But times were far from good. Wolf attacks were on the rise so much that they made the news weekly. And they weren’t on livestock, they were on people, which was exactly what had brought me to Twin Falls, Idaho.
Trotting off into the trees, I lifted my nose in the air and breathed deep to get the lay of the land. Web on top of intricate web of scent trails stretched out in front of me. Some promised to lead down literal rabbit holes, some metaphorical ones. Since I knew I wouldn’t find wolves this close to even an unused forest road, I followed a deer trail. It eventually led to the trail of a small herd. This trail led me deep into the shade of the thick forest. Soon the clean, slightly metallic scent of a stream came upon the breeze. A mile or so later my paws carried me to a silver ribbon of water no more than a foot-wide winding its way over tumbled rocks.
The scents of dozens of creatures spread out from this area. Among them, I smelled wolf, normal wolf. I followed the trail, my paw prints covering theirs at times and dwarfing them. Signs of their presence started to pop up; tufts of hair here, a paw print there. As I got deeper into the forest, a variety of pine and fir trees competed for space, creating enough shade that the sun only touched my back occasionally. I wove through the numerous trunks, ducking and dodging around low branches like a field of linebackers. Part of the reason I loved running so much was because it reminded my human side of my days on the football field. Those days had been less complicated, Hel, the world had been less complicated then.
Paw prints started to show up everywhere in the dirt and forest duff. The scent of more than half a dozen wolves filled the air. I slowed as the scent trails grew newer and fresher. Flanking them, I scanned the rocky forest with my sharpened vision. My nose told me their scents concentrated about a half mile up ahead to the northeast. That direction grew rockier, which could mean caves, dens. Giving it a wide birth, I headed downwind, skirting around through the thick trees. On a hill a little over a half mile or so away, I spotted them.
A group of gray wolves lounged in the sun on a rock outcropping surrounded by trees. The darkness of a large cave yawned behind them. From what I could see and smell, it was two adult females, a male, and a pair of cubs that were a few months old. They appeared to be of a healthy weight, coats glossy and full. Another adult male lay a short distance away, enduring the attentions of a slightly older pup who crawled all over him and tugged at his ears with his teeth. Relief swelled within at seeing even this small pack healthy, happy, and relatively safe.
I mentally cataloged their individual markings and characteristics for later recording. A new pack to add to my catalog always sent a thrill through me. This pack would be number nine in my book of four states and two provinces of Canada that I had visited.
As much as I wanted to stay, I didn’t dare. The sun wouldn’t be up much longer, which meant they’d be on the move to go hunting. If they came across me it could spook them. I didn’t want to give them any reason to move on from this place. It was as safe as a place could be, far from humans and their livestock, nowhere near any popular hiking areas, and abundant with wildlife. Safe places were hard to come by for a wolf pack of any size, and I wouldn’t be the one to take that away from them. I crept back slowly, careful not to rub against any underbrush that would capture pieces of my fur and leave behind more of my scent.
Satisfied with a day that was successful in so many ways, my mouth spread into a wolfy grin as I trotted back toward the car. Twilight turned the forest shades of gold that reminded me of Sonya’s eyes. They had been captivating. Even with a rocking body that would make a college cheerleader jealous, those eyes had held my attention. If only she knew how special she was. Would she be different once she found out? Damn, that woman was distracting. I sped my pace up. The thoughts melted away as I fell into the rhythm of running. Exercise cleansed my mind, focused me, even more so when in wolf form. All that mattered was the forest floor beneath my paws and the fading sunlight on my fur.
On a rocky ridge a few miles from the car, I caught scent of something that stopped me in my tracks. Claws scraped against granite as I skidded. Every muscle tense, I sniffed the air, turning my head this way and that to catch it once again. From the east, I picked it up. Werewolf. And a familiar one at that. Tyler Viðarrson. I hadn’t thought his territory extended this far west, but clearly, I’d been wrong. This would complicate things. I had to get close to Sonya sooner rather than later. Dammit.
Turning tail, I launched into an all-out run toward the car, treating it like the goal line at a Bowl game. Every moment I was out here I risked running into him, and he was definitely in my top two of people I never wanted to encounter again. He could screw everything up. At my clothes, I shifted back to human form. I dressed as I continued the jog to the car. Once inside, I fired it up, shifted into reverse, and flew down the dirt road in reverse. Half a mile later, I came to a grassy spot wide enough to whip the Porsche around. As I shifted into first, the car dinged, telling me I had a voicemail on my phone. I commanded it to play the message.
“All right, Raul, you’re on. Tomorrow morning, 5:00AM, meet me in the bar parking lot. Bring your best pair of shoes and water to drink. If you don’t show, d
on’t bother to try again,” Sonya’s beautiful, alto voice heavy with challenge came through the car’s speakers.
“Return text,” I told the car.
I shifted into second, barreling down the rough dirt road far faster than was good for the Porsche’s suspension.
“I’ll be there.”
Chapter Three
Sonya
Dorothy’s powerhouse blues-rock voice singing about how a man could “Kiss It” was still fading from the speakers of my black Jeep CJ when another vehicle pulled into the empty bar parking lot. I think it was a newer black Porsche, though it was hard to tell through the layers of dust that concealed the poor thing. Behind the washer-fluid streaked windshield I spotted Raul’s scruffily handsome face and striking brown eyes with gold flecks throughout. He was on-time to the point of almost beating me; that was a first. I couldn’t help but be a bit impressed.
I hopped out of my Jeep, tossed my long, windblown braid of hair over my shoulder, and leaned back against the driver side rock bar. My gaze skimmed the Porsche. The Montana license plate read 4THAN11. I suspected it was personalized, but I had no idea what it meant.
I crossed my arms beneath my breasts, which were already lifted to an impressive shelf thanks to the lacy push-up bra. My black V-neck tee from The Pretty Reckless concert revealed just enough cleavage to be what I considered a touch risky. The loose blue jeans and well-worn hiking boots probably counteracted that, but hey, we were going hiking, and I was nothing if not practical. Well, practical to a point. A girl had to look good on a not-date, hence the push-up bra.
A small dust cloud rose into the dawn light when he shut the Porsche’s door. He stepped away smooth and lightning fast, fast enough that not even a speck of that dust touched his long sleeve, silky green, button-up shirt. Blue jeans so dark they looked brand new hugged his fit legs, butt, and crotch in all the right places. From the perfect lines of his carefully manicured five-o’clock shadow to his spotless hiking boots, everything about him looked designer. And was that hair product in his brown-black hair making it look like a stylish mess? Surely he didn’t just wake up that way. I couldn’t smell any product or cologne, and I had a hell of a sense of smell compared to most. I liked that he didn’t feel the need to drown in a scent that wasn’t his own body chemistry.
Clawed & Cornered: A Viking Werewolf Paranormal Romance (Children of Fenrir Book 1) Page 2