“Isn’t that the truth,” he said with a long sigh as he sat down on a rock. His eyes beckoned with a look between me and the rock. I sat down beside him, close enough that our thighs touched. The heat of his skin burned right through my jeans in a delicious way.
“You didn’t go straight into forestry?”
Caution filled his eyes as he looked long and hard at me. “I don’t usually tell women this on the first date because they either run screaming or fangirl.”
When he didn’t go on, I gave him an expectant look.
“I got in on a football scholarship and planned to just go for a Bachelor of Arts while focusing on football.”
My brows rose. Given his muscles, height, and athletic ability to hike up that hill without breaking even the tiniest sweat, it made sense. “Which reaction do you prefer?”
His expression fell into one that mirrored the dread I’d felt earlier. “Neither. I love the game, and I always will, but it doesn’t define me, and I don’t want people to think it does.”
He handed my water bottle back and I let my fingers linger on his for a long moment. “You’re kind of wise. Would it crush you if I said I don’t care for football?”
Making a sound of pain, he clutched his chest. “A little.”
Not caring about potentially getting his germs, I took another drink before responding. “I don’t hate it, but I don’t really get the draw either.”
“It’s the teamwork, the way eleven men work so hard together to achieve a goal, just for the fun of it, how good it feels to know you’ve successfully led them to that goal.”
“Ahhh, you were the quarterback.”
He groaned, tension pulling his back up straight. “Don’t look at me that way! It’s not what you think. I’m not a glory hound.”
I bumped my shoulder into his and gave him a playful smile. “I don’t think that. I was just messing with you. I can tell by the way you talk, the look in your eyes, that it’s about the team.”
A long breath eased from him. I stood, offering him my hand. He took it and let me help him to his feet. The way he unfolded over me, all tall muscle, made me a bit weak in the knees. And he lingered, hovering over me a mere foot away, his body heat and forest smell wrapping around me. His hand scorched mine. Either the hike had gotten to him more than it seemed, or he was getting hot for me. I hoped it was the latter. And I hoped he didn’t let go.
The urge to touch his chest, feel if it was as hard as it looked, had me lifting my other hand before I knew what I was doing. Why not? It seemed like he hadn’t enticed me up here to kill me after all. And the guy was hot as all hell. Just before I made contact, voices drifted to us on the morning breeze. I dropped my hand, pulled my other free of his, and stepped back.
We shared a secret smile just before a couple and their massive German Shepard crested the hill. Fan-like tail wagging, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, the dog bounded to us. Twenty feet from us he skidded to a halt, tucked his tail, and hunched down as if afraid. His big brown eyes were locked on Raul. The couple was so busy taking in the view, they didn’t even notice their dog’s reaction. Walking on without him, and ignoring us, they oohed and ahhed, and half-hugged each other. They didn’t quite give off an anti-social vibe. They were part of the cell-phone-captivated generation from what I guessed of their ages. It was almost always like this when I came across their kind on the trails. They would find anything else to look at so they didn’t have to interact with a person outside of their circle.
An entire field of psychological study on that alone was rising.
Raul crouched, inclined his head, and extended his hand to the dog. He looked back and forth between his people and Raul a few times before inching forward slowly. As the dog grew closer, he slinked down onto his belly and scooted forward the last few feet. Head on the ground, he rolled over and exposed his belly. The dog’s people still hadn’t noticed. Speaking soft words to him, Raul scratched his belly until his tail started to wag.
“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry! He didn’t bite you, did he?” a woman’s voice preceded the crunch of gravel as she approached.
The dog flipped over but remained laying by Raul’s side.
“No, no. He just wanted a belly rub. He was a good dog.” Raul said the last bit to the dog in a soft voice filled with praise. The dog’s tail wagged harder as he looked up at Raul with what I could only call adoration.
“What?” the woman sounded confused.
“Sampson! Get over here! What are you doing?” the man demanded of the dog, who didn’t move.
“Sampson, now!” the man demanded in a tone that made me bristle.
Sampson stood, licked Raul’s hand, and trotted over to his master. The man proceeded to tell him what a bad dog he was in a horrible, condescending voice. I ground my teeth together to keep from interjecting.
Raul took a step in the couple’s direction. “Really, it’s not his fault. All dogs love me, I just have a way with them.”
The man made a snorting noise as he shot Raul a piercing glare that only made him stand a bit taller. While they likely weighed about the same, Raul looked like he had sixty pounds of muscle where the other man was doughy. But having the dog at his side seemed to bolster his confidence. He stood taller, still several inches short of Raul’s six-two.
“Yes, and I’m sure there are serial killers that are great with some dogs too. Which makes him pretty useless as a guard dog for my wife,” the man snapped.
The petite woman looked like she wanted to melt into the knee-high grass and disappear. Her gaze looked anywhere but at us or her husband. The man turned and began to storm away, tugging his wife after him by the arm. Sampson turned back to look at Raul. Making a horrible imitation of a growl, the man reached back, grabbed Sampson by the collar, and yanked him after them.
“Come on, dog. It’s time we took a little trip to the pound to trade you for something that will do its job.”
Something that sounded like a real growl came from Raul. He moved in the man’s direction but stopped when I put a hand on his arm. “He’s just embarrassed that his dog likes you better. He’ll probably get over it by the time they get home,” I whispered.
Though he didn’t call after them, or take another step, he watched until they descended out of sight. He turned to me with a half-smile. “Sorry, I can’t stand it when people are mean to animals.”
I waved a hand. “He was just posturing, don’t sweat it.”
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He didn’t look or sound convinced, and the way he kept glancing back the direction the couple had gone made me think he wanted to follow them to make sure the guy wasn’t mean to the dog.
This one could prove to be a keeper. “Hey, how about I treat you to lunch and you can tell me more about Iceland?” I asked, trying to look enticing despite being covered in dust and pollen.
The gorgeous smile that spread across his lips made me feel even frumpier. But I didn’t care, because it was directed at me.
“I’d like that. But I wouldn’t be much of a gentleman if I let you treat me.”
We started back down the hillside together. I let out a short laugh. “One, I am not some old-fashioned damsel. Two, we’ll see if you think it’s a treat after you taste my cooking. How does a picnic in the park sound?”
“Sounds great, so long as I’m not stealing too much of your time.”
I found myself staring at his canines. The guy had four canine-like teeth that came to slight points where most people only had two. It was hard to tell unless you were really looking, but the way he kept smiling, I couldn’t help but notice. I couldn’t decide if it was sexy or slightly disturbing. The muscles tightening between my legs made it clear my body was deciding on the sexy side. Most people would have allowed their orthodontist to file those teeth down. I liked that he hadn’t felt the need to alter his body to conform to societal expectations. It pointed to a healthy self-confidence.
It hit me that I had been so
focused on his devilish good looks that I hadn’t answered his question. Ignoring the heat rushing to my face, I said, “It isn’t stealing if I give it to you. Are you up for doing the hiking loop to the ski hill parking lot first?”
“Hell yeah,” he said through a grin that made me want to crawl all over him instead of psychoanalyze him.
My heart sped up. Grinning like a fool, I led the way down the path.
While he may not have come out here to kill me and leave my body in the mountains, he was certainly still dangerous. This was a danger I was eager to explore.
Chapter Four
Raul
Tonight I had to broach the unbroachable subject. Last weekend’s amazing time hiking and picnicking made me long to take things slow with Sonya. She was special, and not just because of what she would be to all of my kind. But I had no choice. A quick trip home last Wednesday to check on my sister and get fresh clothes had only left me feeling more anxious.
I parked my freshly washed Hayabusa motorcycle next to her Jeep and stepped out into the thick darkness of a cloudy night. Hot as it was tonight, I figured she might like a bit more wind in her hair, so long as the extra helmet I had strapped to the tiny passenger seat fit her. Hanging my own helmet on the license plate hanger, I ran my fingers through my hair to liven it back up. A glance in the left handlebar mirror showed my brown and black locks to be rakish enough to be considered handsome. I hoped. At least it was better than helmet hair.
The black ribbon of a walkway between two apartment buildings unfolded into a yawning darkness. Behind me the dull yellow streetlight flickered from the wings of at least a dozen moths. Even above the scent of some nearby rosebushes, a freshly cut lawn, and a few dogs, I smelled Sonja. My wolf eyes adjusted in a blink as I stepped into the yawning darkness created by the buildings.
The scent of roses made me smile. I had dinner at the bar each night this last week with the excuse they had the best burgers in town—which they did. But, the real reason had been so I could see Sonya. Monday night I had left a white rose tucked under the windshield wiper of her Jeep, Tuesday a yellow one, Wednesday a pink one. The one question I was looking forward to asking her tonight was which was her favorite.
The clop of my boots against the sidewalk echoed down the walkway between buildings. Part of me liked that she trusted me enough to let me pick her up at her apartment. Another part felt a painful twinge of guilt because of the false pretenses we were starting this whole relationship on. Determined not to overthink it, I shoved the thoughts down.
Through all the other domestic sounds, I heard her soft footsteps within her apartment, followed by the jingle of her keys as she made her way to the door. Anticipation shot through me. False pretenses or not, I liked her, a lot. Straightening the collar of my forest green, button up, silk shirt, I stopped in front of her door. I’d chosen my custom fit black leather jacket to go over my clothes instead of the Cordura one. It still sported my rockers and the knotwork wolf’s head on the back, but the expensive cut and leather had a dressy look to it. Sonya deserved dressy.
Knowing she was about to open the door, I waited, hands in my pockets. She jumped a bit at the sight of me, but the surprised “O” her red lips made relaxed quickly into a smile. Smokey eye shadow made her topaz eyes stand out like shining gems. A lacy, grey and midnight blue striped shirt wrapped around her in soft layers, crossing low enough over her breasts to expose a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Black jeans hugged her slender legs and disappeared into nearly knee-high black boots.
A growling sound of approval slid from me. I dragged my gaze up to her face and the delicious blush reddening her cheeks made me sorry my attention had strayed. Desire darkened her eyes to a burnished gold. My blood heated.
“Wow,” she said through a breath. The sound made more than my blood heat. “I am really underdressed.”
I shook my head. “No way. You look amazing.”
Eyes rolling skyward, she pulled the door closed and locked it. “Target sales rack compared to Saks,” she murmured so quiet it was clear she didn’t intend for me to hear.
I moved close enough that she had to put a hand against my chest to keep from falling into me when she turned around. Taking advantage of the situation, I place a hand on each of her shoulders to steady her. “I mean it. You could stop traffic, and you’d do it with ease, while I had to resort to designers to make me look this good.”
An easy, natural laugh came from her. “Round one to you,” she teased. “Should I grab a jacket?”
“Definitely. Leather if you have it.”
After a widening of her eyes, she ducked back into the apartment for a moment. When she came back out, she had on a worn-in, black, leather jacket that swallowed her up. The scent of leather that had seen a lot of road miles and been well cared for with regular conditioner clung to it. If I didn’t know better, I would be afraid it was an old boyfriend’s. But she didn’t know that I knew better, and would likely think me creepy if she did, so I lifted my brows and put on a jealous look.
“A bit big on you,” I said, adding a touch of fake jealousy to my tone.
A sad smile played at her lips as she pulled the door closed behind her, locked it, and put her keys in one of the deep pockets. “It was my dad’s.” The sadness in her voice made me feel terrible for making her say the words.
I put one hand on the small of her back as we started to walk, and leaned in close. “In that case, I guess I can’t be jealous,” I said, dropping my voice an octave or two.
She shivered a bit and moved closer. I let my arm slide around her, enjoying the warmth of her body pressed against mine despite the seventy plus degree night.
When she saw my bike basking in the light of the streetlamp next to her Jeep, her steps hesitated for a split second. “You’re not afraid of motorcycles, are you?” I asked.
She blew air through her lips in a dismissive noise. “Of course not, my dad was a biker. I’m cautious of them and painfully aware of the multitude of ways one can get injured or killed on them.” She sounded light-hearted about it, and I knew from my research that her dad hadn’t died in a motorcycle crash. It had been something much more nefarious than even she knew about.
“Does this mean I’m going to have trouble convincing you to straddle one behind me?”
“Hell no. But you may get a rundown of the videos I had to watch in med school if you drive too crazy.” The teasing tone of her voice made me smile.
“Fair enough.”
We reached the parking lot and I retrieved two helmets from my bike. She gave me a satisfied nod.
“You’re off to a good start with those,” she said through a smile that made my jeans tight.
Holding the helmet between her knees, she wove her hair into a quick braid, tying it off with a hairband I hadn’t seen on her wrist until that moment.
I gave her a crooked smile. “Always prepared, I like that.”
“Girl Scout,” she said with a lift of her chin.
“Really?” I asked, hoping my surprise didn’t show too much. I hadn’t read that in her file.
She shrugged one shoulder. “Well, if a single summer counts.”
I swung a leg over the bike. “Totally does. Why only one summer?”
After putting her helmet on, she lifted the visor. “Promise you won’t judge?”
“I never would.”
I fired up the engine and patted the seat behind me. She climbed on and wrapped her arms around me without being prompted. That hot little body of hers burned against my back in more ways than one.
“I punched a girl for talking bad about my dad.”
Laughter erupted from me as I pictured her as a little girl defending her dad’s honor. “Good for you!”
A short laugh came from her and she leaned her head on my shoulder. “Mom didn’t think so, and I wasn’t allowed back in after that, but yeah, it was pretty awesome.”
One of her hands left my middle to close her visor. When it returned, sh
e gripped me all the tighter. Her soft curves threatened to burn a line right through both of our leather jackets. I eased the bike from the parking lot onto the empty two-lane road, giving Sonja a chance to get a feel for the movement of the bike. She molded to me like an expert, leaning when I leaned, keeping the distance between us closed. We wove our way through the quiet streets. I kept my speed down until the last light of town lay behind us. Warm summer wind whipped at us as I accelerated and shifted through the gears. Sonya pressed so close the heat between her legs burned my backside in a maddening way.
Soon, trees lined the road instead of buildings. Clean, country air poured down my throat. A few miles out of town I turned onto the side road that led to the winery bed and breakfast I was staying at. Lilac bushes competed with Aspen trees for space along the shoulder, filling the air with their sweet scent. The bike’s headlight cut through the growing dark, messing with my wolf night vision and forcing me to rely on my human eyes. As much as I wanted to shut off the headlight, I had to keep up appearances for Sonya’s sake. She wasn’t ready for the truth yet, not by a long shot. Tonight I hoped to take a big step in the direction of preparing her.
A wooden sign over a wrought iron gate welcomed us to the winery and B&B. Like a second skin, Sonja leaned into the corners of the winding driveway with me. For an all new reason, I was glad the driveway was almost a mile long. Row after row of grapevines stretched out from each side of the road, reaching up and over the rolling hills. From a navy blue sky a three-quarter moon turned the grapevines silver. Though the grapes were just starting to grow, their sweet smell filled the air with mouthwatering promise.
The driveway split—one direction going to a drive that circled before the winery, the other leading around the back where the B&B entrance and restaurant lay. I took the one going around the back. Candlelight flickered from the lone table sitting on the cobblestone patio beneath a pergola dripping with grapevines and wisteria. A roaring fire in a stacked stone fire pit not twenty feet away added to the ambiance.
Clawed & Cornered: A Viking Werewolf Paranormal Romance (Children of Fenrir Book 1) Page 4