by Jinx Neale
Faith moaned in her sleep. Her eyelids twitched as she dreamed. Her hands moved and then her feet. Did she dream of running free in the forest, on all fours, like the wolf hidden inside her? Zane sighed and pulled the throw over her shoulders. He bent to kiss her hair and her scent stirred him, elusive with a hint of the familiar. He would help her, he promised silently. Whatever she needed.
* * *
Faith surfaced slowly from her nap, raising her head to inhale the combined aroma of wood smoke and meat cooking. She sniffed appreciatively. Even food smelled better up here. She stood and stretched as Zane pushed open the sliding door from the deck. His gaze moved over her body, stopping at the inches of bare midriff revealed by her raised sweater. Faith dropped her arms abruptly, feeling awkward.
“Feeling better?” Zane asked.
The late afternoon sun spilled across the wide floor planks. “Yes, thanks.” Faith pulled down the hem of her sweater. “How long did I sleep?”
“About four hours.”
“Wow, I never sleep in the daytime.”
Zane shrugged. “You had a rough day. There’s a bathroom just past the stairs if you want to wash up before dinner.”
The cabin was bigger than it looked. Beside the bathroom was a large bedroom and laundry room. Faith yawned as she washed her hands. Good heavens. She was a mess. Her hair looked like a nest and her eyes were puffy with sleep. How mortifying. She rinsed her mouth and washed her face before finding a brush in the drawer to tackle her curls. She needed a hair tie.
Zane didn’t seem to find anything amiss with her appearance, she mused, judging by his heated stare. The man must be hard up. Faith shook her head. Who was she kidding? A gorgeous, caring man like Zane would never lack feminine companionship—even if he was bossy as hell.
“I can set the table, if you like,” Faith offered, when she returned to the kitchen. Zane nodded, indicating the drawer of cutlery. “How many places?”
“Five. My parents and my brother are joining us. You met Brock at the diner.”
“Sure, I remember. He’s your younger brother?”
“Yeah. How did you know?”
Faith tilted her head, considering. “I don’t know. You just seemed… more in charge, I guess. But he was very nice.”
Zane snorted. “He’d love to hear a beautiful woman describe him that way. I know I would. Deflate his ego a little.”
Faith found plates in the upper cupboard near the sink, smiling as she set the table. Zane thought she was beautiful. It made her feel warm all the way through. Faith sniffed the warm air. “Something smells good. What’s for dinner?”
“Roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, carrots.”
“Wow, I haven’t had roast beef in ages. My mouth is watering.” That kind of food was way over her meager budget.
Zane picked up a knife and began carving the roast. “You look like you could use some fattening up.”
“Well!” Faith set down the last plate with a bang.
Zane grinned at her outraged expression. “No offense intended. You just look like you’ve skipped a few meals. Nothing wrong with the view, though.” He raised his eyebrows suggestively, and she had to laugh.
Zane’s expression warmed. “That’s better. I like you seeing you laugh.”
It struck Faith that she hadn’t felt this good in a long time. “The air up here is fantastic. I feel so rested.”
Zane strained the gravy. “Good. I’ll do my best to keep you feeling that way.”
She nodded, her throat suddenly tight. This man, who was almost a complete stranger, had shown her more concern and compassion than anyone ever had before.
A decisive knock sounded on the door, and an older man walked through. She could see the resemblance to Zane, but his features were blunter.
“This is my dad, Alec.”
Alec smiled and held out a large hand. “Pleased to meet you, Faith. Zane tells me you used to live in town.”
They had the same smile.
“I did. I came back a few weeks ago, and I was working at Clint’s until he had to let me go.”
“Clint Ryerson. I know him, good man.”
“Yes, he is.”
Alec’s keen gaze met hers. “I’m sorry to hear you lost your job.”
“Um, thank you.”
Alec nodded and turned away to speak with Zane.
“Dinner ready? I’m starved.” Brock was talking before he even entered the house.
“Just about.” Zane set the platter of meat on the table. “Dinner’s ready. Where’s Mom?”
Brock grabbed a slice of beef and wolfed it down. “Dead-heading your roses.”
When Zane frowned, his father shrugged. “You know your mother. Nothing I could tell her would make a lick of difference.”
Janet came in with a bright smile and a handful of blown rose petals. “I always listen to you, Alec.”
“And then you do just as you please.”
“Not always.” They shared an intimate glance that made Faith look away.
Alec turned his attention back to Faith. “I heard you had a dust-up with the Lynch boy.”
“Unfortunately.”
Alec shook his head. “Nasty bunch.”
“Entitled punks,” Brock offered. “I want to punch them in the face just for breathing.”
“Now, Brock,” Janet said soothingly. “It won’t help Faith to do anything hasty.”
“I get it. Let’s all walk quietly around Lynch.”
“That’s not what I said, Brock. But there’s no sense in making things worse.”
“Sure, Mom.”
“Now, if only I believed you.”
Brock spread a large hand over his heart. “Mother, you wound me.”
Janet only laughed and picked up a spoon to stir the gravy. “Go wash your hands before we eat.”
“You heard that, right? Like I’m ten years old.” Brock stalked toward the bathroom, still grumbling under his breath.
Faith laughed. Her foster families had never been like this, joking and laughing, genuinely enjoying each other’s company.
“Let’s eat.” Zane pulled out a chair for his mother while Alec seated Faith.
It felt good to be with this family, even if it wasn’t hers—could never be hers. She was always alone, even in a crowded room.
* * *
Dinner was delicious and even entertaining. The Hunter family liked to eat and they liked to tease each other. Faith listened to their bantering with quiet enjoyment, her inner tension uncoiling by the end of the meal. Or maybe it was the delicious red wine Brock had brought over. Janet insisted on helping with the dishes, so Faith dried and Janet washed, while the men went out on the deck, because Alec wanted to smoke a cigar. They chatted companionably as they worked. Janet was interested but not nosy, and Faith found her a pleasant companion.
“What will you do now, Faith?”
“Look for another job, I guess.”
Janet rinsed off a plate. “Let me ask around. You’d like to work in another restaurant?”
“Not really. Clint gave me the job because he knew my mom. I’ve worked in a lot of bars and a few restaurants, but I’d prefer something outdoors. I worked in a plant nursery once,” Faith mused. “I get kind of itchy and anxious when I’m in the city for too long. Silly, I suppose. The moment I came back to Tilney Mills, I started to feel calmer. Then I ran into Alton and the rest is history.”
“You just need to rest and relax for a few days.”
“You sound just like Zane,” Faith said.
“Well, he does get his common sense from me.”
Faith laughed. She liked this calm, down-to-earth woman.
Janet drained the sink. “Zane mentioned you’ve been having headaches.”
“Wow, how nosy is he?” She caught Janet’s eye. “Sorry.”
Janet chuckled. “No need to apologize. He gets that from his father.”
“Hey,” Alec said as he crossed the room. “I’m standing right he
re.”
Janet winked at her. “I know, dear.”
Zane loomed behind them. “Mom, quit stirring up trouble.”
Janet whirled and tossed the wet dishcloth straight at Zane’s chest. He caught it, grinning.
“Yay, Mom,” Brock cheered from the doorway. “Keep your other son in line.”
Zane spun and fired the cloth at Brock, hitting him in the face.
Brock squawked in outrage. “That’s it, big brother.”
Zane dashed across the room, Brock in hot pursuit. Zane leaped up on the deck rail, teetered for a moment, and jumped over the side. Faith screamed as Brock followed his brother over the edge.
Alec patted her shoulder. “Relax, Faith. They’re fine.”
Faith shook her head. “You must have given birth to a couple of acrobats. That drop must be thirty feet. I thought Zane was dead.”
“They’ve always been very athletic,” Janet agreed.
Faith walked out on the deck and looked down. Zane was grinning as he ran backwards, taunting Brock.
“You’re toast now.” Brock chased after him, Zane whooping and hollering as he turned and ran past the creek and out of sight.
Janet had followed her. She patted Faith’s shoulder. “They’ll be fine. The boys just need to let off some steam.”
Faith shook her head. “Right. I think I’ll go for a walk. A nice, sedate walk.”
“You do that. I’ll put on a pot of coffee to go with dessert.”
“You mean there’s more food?”
Janet’s smile was tender. “My boys like to eat.”
Zane and Brock returned eventually, sweaty and disheveled. It should have lessened Zane’s attraction instead of making Faith want him more. After dessert and coffee, the Hunters left, and Faith murmured a good night before slipping up the stairs to the guest room. She was already in bed when Zane knocked on her door.
“Need anything?”
God, there was so much she needed, so much she wanted. But Zane wasn’t hers, she thought with regret. It was nearly time to move on.
“Nothing, thanks.”
“Okay, then. I could tuck you in.” His tone was teasing instead of seductive.
“No need. Good night, Zane.”
“Good night, Faith.” He closed the door quietly.
Faith lay down and turned out the light, staring into the darkness. She slid her hand over the curve of her bottom. She must be nuts, dropping everything to come and stay with Zane, a man who had not hesitated to turn her over his knee. My, he was strong. An errant thought flashed through her brain. What would it feel like to have him spank her again, with no barrier between them? A surge of raw lust swept through her. God, she was in a bad way if the thought of being spanked aroused her.
But desire wasn’t the only emotion Zane roused in her. Being here with him, Faith felt… valued. As though Zane thought she was worth protecting. It was a long time since she had felt that way. She plumped the pillow and tried to still her racing thoughts. He made her so darn confused.
Chapter Four
Faith woke up slowly. The down comforter was wrapped around her like an embrace. She peered at her phone and squawked. It was almost noon. She had slept for fourteen hours. Yawning, Faith pulled on her jeans and sweater and headed downstairs. A scrawled note by the coffee machine said Zane would be home later with lunch. Nice.
She poured herself a cup of coffee, noting the frost starring the leaves outside the kitchen window. Fall came early up in the mountains. Sipping her coffee, Faith watched the fire still burning on the hearth, the hiss and crackle of the smoldering wood a soothing sound. Amazing how long and deeply she had slept, awaking with a feeling of balance and tranquility. No, it was more than that, if she had to be honest. Zane made her feel safe. Strange, when she barely knew the man. He was physically imposing and hot as hell, but there was something intangible about Zane, something familiar that called to her.
A knock on the cabin door made her start and spill her drink. Faith set down the mug and walked to the door, palms suddenly damp. She rubbed them against her jeans. Why was she frightened? There was no way that Alton could know where she was. She took a deep breath and opened the door to a man she had never seen before. The stranger was tall, with a lean, lanky body and long blond hair tied at the nape. His strange yellow eyes glittered as they moved over Faith’s body.
“What do we have here?” he purred. “Zane has a new playmate. What’s your name, sweet thing?”
Faith frowned. “Who wants to know?”
His brows flew up. “Kitty has claws.” He leaned closer, sniffing. “No, not a kitty.”
What a strange man. He took a step toward her. Faith held up a hand. “Back up.”
The stranger grinned, revealing very sharp teeth. Heavens, did he file them? She tamped down a flash of fear, knowing somehow that this unsettling visitor would only find it appealing.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“No. I’ll let Zane know you dropped by.”
A satisfied smile spread across his face. “So, he’s not here? Then you definitely have to let me in.”
“I don’t think so.”
Faith started to close the door but he pushed back, forcing his way across the threshold.
“What are you doing?” She fought back a surge of panic. “Get out of here, now.”
“Oh, no, my lovely. You and I are going to get to know each other—real well.”
He was bigger and stronger. She couldn’t physically push him out. Faith retreated to the fireplace, her hand searching for the iron poker behind her.
The stranger glided toward her. He moved smoothly, with a kind of unearthly grace. “That’s better. No need for violence. Unless you enjoy it?”
Faith grabbed the poker, swinging it up and over her head. The stranger’s smirk died and he finally stepped back. “Now, that’s not very friendly, is it, sweet thing. Don’t you want to play nice?”
“No. I want you to get the hell out of here.”
He cocked his head to one side, considering her. Faith gripped the poker tightly, ready for his next move. But then his hand darted toward her—impossibly fast. Faith cried out as a line of fire ran across her cheek. Blood rolled down her skin, dripping on her collar.
“See you soon, sweet thing.”
And then he was gone, leaving behind the scent of fur and musk. Faith dropped into the nearest chair, knees weak. An hour later, she was still huddled by the fire, trembling, when Zane’s truck pulled into the driveway.
“Faith!” Zane’s boots clattered on the porch. “Faith!”
“I’m in here.” She turned toward the flames, scared and ashamed, not wanting him to see what the stranger had done.
Zane crouched beside her. “What happened?”
Faith shook her head, afraid to trust her voice. Zane gently pulled the poker from her white-knuckled grip and set it down. She couldn’t look at him. He grabbed her chin and turned her face toward him, eyes narrowing in a face suddenly pale with anger.
“Who did this?” His voice was cold, with an edge of steel.
Faith shivered, twisting away. “I don’t know his name. He just knocked on the door. He said he knew you. And then he did this.”
Zane sniffed the air, his lip curling. “Cougar. Stay in the house, and, whatever you do, keep out of the woods. I’ll deal with this.”
“Zane…”
He cut off her words with the slice of one hand. “He marked you, marked what is mine. It’s an intentional insult and it must be answered.” Zane leaned forward to wipe off the blood trailing down her skin with his thumb. His nostrils flared. “I’ll have Mom come by and take a look at this. You’ll need to get it dressed so the wound doesn’t scar.” He pressed a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll be back.”
* * *
Faith dabbed at the scratch with a washcloth. It was long but not deep. Her eyes looked wide and scared in the mirror. God, would she never feel safe again? The moment she was secur
e, this happened.
A tap on the cabin door made her flinch, but Janet’s voice floated down the hall. “It’s Janet, dear. Zane sent me over.”
“I’m in the bathroom.”
Janet’s concerned expression filled the mirror behind her. “Zane said you had a visitor.”
Faith rinsed out the cloth and examined the scratch. “Not a very nice one.”
“Sit down on the toilet seat and let me see.” Janet examined the wound. “This is an animal scratch. What did this to you?” Janet applied some disinfectant to a cotton ball and dabbed at her cheek. Faith hissed. “Sorry, dear.”
“Not a what, but a who. He didn’t tell me his name, but he knew Zane. Tall guy, lean, long blond hair, and very strange yellow eyes.”
“Ah. It must have been Vaughan Catesby. He’s a troublemaker, all right. He’s always had it in for Zane.”
“I should call the police.”
Janet looked troubled. “You could, of course. But it would bring us a lot of undesirable attention. Best to let Zane deal with it.”
“Janet, what’s going on? Why would it bring undesirable attention? And why on earth would Zane call this guy a cougar? What did he mean?”
“We’re not like other people, my dear. You must have sensed it.”
“Every family is unique,” Faith said, puzzled.
“But not different like we are. I think you should wait and talk with Zane about all this.”
“All right.” She followed Janet to the kitchen. What did the older woman mean by saying her family wasn’t like others? And who was Vaughan Catesby?
Janet opened a cabinet and reached for the mugs. “Tea or coffee?”
“Tea, please.”
“Sit down, Faith. You look a little pale. I’m sorry you’ve had more trouble.”
“Why would this Vaughan guy scratch me? It’s just so weird.”
“Vaughan is also… different.”
“Different how? Like a cult?”
“Oh, no, dear. Nothing like that. It’s more like a different culture. We are very family-oriented and dislike living in cities. We prefer the fresh air and wide spaces of the country.”