She dreamed of wolves. Packs of them, streaming across a flat, grassy plain under the silver light of a half-moon. In her dream, longing filled her, and she realized she only watched from a distance, rather than running with them as she wanted. Though she tried and tried, she stood rooted in place, aching to join them, wild and fierce and free. Alone, she could only watch. And hurt.
She woke with a start, perspiration dampening her T-shirt. She’d had this same dream before, many times, one of the many variations in her apparently endless repertoire of wolf dreams.
And now, she saw Luc Herrick in them. Intense, mysterious Luc, with his bedroom eyes and easy smile. She hadn’t felt so drawn to a man since…
Refusing to even think her ex-husband’s name, she blinked in the bright light and tried to focus. The smell seemed off. Wrong. Gradually, the ugly green-and-orange bedspread registered. This was not her bed. Nor her room.
Over there—Luc dozed in an ugly purple armchair.
With wolves still in her thoughts, Sam’s first instinctive reaction was a low growl. This woke Luc.
“How are you feeling?” His voice sounded gentle.
Narrowing her eyes, Sam swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Confused. My mouth tastes like cotton and I’m obviously hallucinating. Why else would I wake in a strange, tacky room with this cat and you?”
“We’re in a motel room off I-30.”
“What?” Frowning, she remembered. “The fire. And that awful man with the needle.” Glancing down at her arm, she saw the red mark where he’d jabbed her. “Luc, what the heck is going on?”
He smiled then, the sad smile of a man who didn’t have much to lose anymore. “I’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
“I’ll say.” She stood and waited until the room stopped moving before crossing to the window and separating the curtains. “Is that…snow?”
“Sometime during the night, the rain turned into snow.”
“In November? In Texas? No way.”
“We’re not in Texas.”
Sliding her gaze around the room, she tried to slow her racing heart. “How much is left of my house?”
Luc shook his head. “Nothing.”
“That’s why we’re in a hotel room?”
“Partly, yes. Sam, do you remember what that man said to you before you passed out?”
She frowned. “Something about going to sleep and then…” Closing her eyes, she groaned. “Healing him.”
When Luc didn’t respond, she opened her eyes to look at him. “Did he cause the fire?”
“Probably. Apparently he’s ill and believes you have the power to make him well.”
“Like you do with your friend’s daughter.”
When he looked at her, heat and sorrow blazed from his eyes. “I spoke to Carson last night. Lucy’s slipped into a coma. They’ve given her a week to live.”
“So you thought you’d kidnap me while I was unconscious?” Anger and a feeling of pity were strong enough to make her cross the room to Luc and face him. “Why?”
He said simply, “So Lucy can live.”
“She still might make it. People awaken from comas all the time.”
“Not with her kind of brain tumor. I’ll ask you again. Will you come to New York and heal her?”
Unable to look away, she swallowed. “My gift doesn’t work on people. Only animals.”
His wry grimace told her he, too, recalled this was exactly where they’d been when the fire had started.
She remembered something else. “You said that I truly didn’t know. Don’t know what?”
“Your heritage. Remember what I told you before, about the shape-shifters?”
She nodded. How could she forget? “The things you can’t disprove.”
He looked pleased. “Exactly. To put it as simply as possible, there are those who are half-human and half-animal. Conventional medicine can’t heal them. Lucy is one of them. She’s a Halfling, and can change shape.”
Stomach churning, Sam didn’t know what to say. Luc had entered the realm of the supernatural. Supernaturally insane, that is. If not for her dreams, she’d want to run away from him as fast as she could.
“This is where you come in. In our lore, we have read of those who are born with a rare gift—the ability to heal these Halflings with their touch.”
“Only Halflings? Not full-blooded, er, shape-shifters?”
“No, we can heal ourselves. But you are needed to heal the others.”
“Like I do with animals.”
“Exactly. They—you—are called healers.”
Digesting this in silence, Sam remembered Patricia’s warning about keeping an open mind. She sighed. “Okay. Let’s suppose I take your story at face value. If there are such things as shape-shifters, and healers to heal them, how would you identify one? In other words, why me?”
He gave her a look full of so much tenderness, her breath caught.
Doggedly, she continued. “You mentioned heritage. Does that have something to do with all this?”
Luc nodded. “Yes. Now comes the difficult part.”
Chapter 8
That got her attention even more, if possible. “More difficult than what you’ve already told me?”
“Yes.” He ran his hand through his hair. “How much do you know about your family?”
She frowned. “Not a lot. My mother worked two jobs to raise me. She never spoke of any family, either on her side or my father’s.”
“What did she tell you about your father?”
“He left when I was two. My mother rarely spoke of him.”
“Did you ask?”
“Once or twice. All she’d say was that he wasn’t a good man. Why?”
“Your father was…” Luc took a deep breath. “A full-blooded shifter. He could become a wolf. When he left you and your mother all those years ago, he returned back east to his Pack.”
“Pack?” The word felt both foreign and wonderful on her tongue. “As in wolf pack?”
Luc nodded.
She thought of her dreams. “My father’s a werewolf.”
“Yes.”
“My mother hated him.” Luc said nothing.
“Do you think she knew?” She watched him closely.
“Possibly. Most likely.”
“Assuming I believe you, which I don’t, why wouldn’t my mother tell me?”
He shook his head. “There could be a lot of reasons, Samantha. Especially if she hated that about him. Obviously, your mother wanted you to be human.”
“I am human.” She bristled. “Though I’ve dreamed about wolves for years, I know for a fact that I’ve never changed into one. Even,” she amended, unable to keep a trace of sadness from her voice, “in my dreams.”
“I’m sorry.” Placing a hand on her shoulder, he drew her closer. “But whatever gene that enables us to change, gives you the power to heal.”
As always, his touch soothed. She took a deep breath. “What about my father? Do you know him? Even though he abandoned his family and made no attempt to contact me, as a child I always wanted to meet him.”
“I know of him. My pack researched your heritage. He was killed in a fire five years ago. There was an investigation—they thought he might have been murdered—but no killer was ever found.”
Just like that, her foolish hopes for family instantly evaporated. Sorrow for a man she’d never known wasn’t easy to come by. Still, she’d spent much of her life wishing for a father who’d never wanted her to return to her life. Now, she mourned the loss of that irrational expectation.
Nervously, she moistened her dry lips. “Do you know if I have any living family?”
“I’m sure you must. The Pack is quite large.”
Family. In this…Pack. She thought of her dream wolves and how she could never run with them.
If she was half shifter, that meant she ought to be able to change into a wolf, too. And finally, finally run with the others.
If only life were so simple.
“I’m a…?”
“A Halfling.”
Her gaze flew to his. He watched her with silent expectation. Only years of dreaming of wolves kept her from running away.
What did he expect? Did he really think she was going to shrug and say, “Okay, cool?” Logical thinking had always served her well in the past, with her books and her library. “But that doesn’t make any sense. You said Halflings can change into wolves. So wouldn’t I be able to become a wolf, too?”
“Most Halflings can change. Healers are different.”
Was that a hint of wonder in his deep, velvety voice? Despite his confident expression, she sensed his vulnerability. His need and fears and desires. Her feelings for him, this mysterious man she’d known only a few days, intensified by the hour.
Even now, while he tried to convince her to believe in his insanity, she wanted him. Wanted him with a fierce hunger she’d never felt before. Wanted him so badly she licked her lips and drew her breath in with a hiss of raw need.
Attuned to her as he was, his eyes darkened, reflecting her own craving.
That look sent a tremor through her.
“Sam.” Whispering her name, he took a step toward her before collecting himself. When he shook his head, sending his dark hair flying, the movement reminded her of the wolf he claimed to be able to become.
“Now is not the time,” he murmured.
Because he was right, she nodded and struggled to find her voice. “Tell me more about this Pack.”
“Packs are our way of governing ourselves. Each state has one, and there are regional Packs, and a national one as well. We even elect a president every four years, the same way you do in Washington.”
“There are that many of you?”
“Yes.”
Incredulous, she rubbed her neck. “Where? How is such a thing possible without anyone knowing?”
“Oh, a few humans have discovered the truth. Most have been labeled crackpots. They write books and give lectures, but no serious-thinking person takes one word seriously.”
“And you, with your books to discredit them, is that a form of cover, too?”
“Of course.” He smiled, the sheer masculine beauty of him making her insides clench. “Why else would I do such a thing?”
Not entirely convinced, she hugged her arms close to her body. “Luc, I’m sorry to ask this, but are you in some sort of cult or something? Is that what this is all about?”
She could have sworn she saw a flash of hurt in his dark eyes. “Why would you say such a thing?”
She refused to look away. “Because nothing you’ve said makes any sense.”
A muscle worked in his jaw. She longed to reach up and place her hand along his cheek.
Some of her thoughts must have again communicated to him. He sighed once more. “I’m sorry to disappoint you. No cult. In time, you might find it easier to accept an alternate version of reality, if you keep an open mind. We shifters are a race. Just as regular humans are.” He paused, swallowing hard. “And finding a healer is very significant to us.”
There was something in his voice…an awful ache, remembered sorrow. She felt the effect of his grief as if it were her own. More than worry and fear over a small child’s fate, there was something dark and hurtful in his recent past.
Somewhere, somehow, Luc had suffered greatly.
She knew an instant of regret that she hadn’t been there then to help him through it.
“What about you?” she asked quietly. “Other than Lucy, what is your personal stake in all of this? Why did your Pack send you, specifically, to find a healer?”
“I wanted to come. Two years ago, I lost my half brother to cancer. Standing by, unable to help or ease his pain, reduced to merely watching while he suffered, was the most awful thing I’ve ever experienced. ” Luc took a deep, shuddering breath. “They asked me because they felt I needed hope. They were right.”
“Hope?”
“I didn’t believe in much of anything anymore,” he said, his voice harsh. “Until I met you. You’re my—” Breaking off, he ran a hand through his hair, his eyes dark and unreadable. “And because my best friend’s daughter is dying. If there’s even the slightest chance you are a true healer, I cannot stand by and allow Lucy to die.”
Though Sam knew he’d left something unsaid, something important, she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear it. He’d given her enough to think about, enough strangeness and worry and fear. But Lucy was who really mattered now. Whatever Sam thought about Luc’s stories, that little girl was in real trouble. “Of course I’ll go,” she said.
Looking relieved, he glanced at his watch. “There’s an airport in Little Rock. It’d be much quicker to fly.”
“I can’t…” She swallowed, feeling slightly foolish, but not caring. “I never fly. Not anymore, not since the plane crash.” Even thinking of setting foot on a plane made her break out in a cold sweat, despite the day’s chill. She took a deep breath. “How long will the trip take if we go by car? A day?”
“From here to New York? More like two, and that’s driving nonstop, with no traffic problems.”
“With us taking turns at the wheel, we can drive straight through.” Because he still appeared uncertain, she added, “That’s the only way I’ll agree to go.”
Narrowing his eyes, he considered her. “All right,” he said.
Immediately, some of her terror eased. She rolled her shoulders, massaging her neck. “Great. Thanks. I wish I knew more about Halflings and healers, those legends you mentioned.”
“In that backpack on the backseat are several reference books on healers. If you’d like, once we have daylight, you’re welcome to read them.”
“I’d enjoy that. Now I need to call Patricia. She’ll be worried sick.”
Wordlessly, he handed her his cell phone.
Sam dialed the number to the vet clinic from memory. One of the assistants put her right through to her friend.
“Where are you? I found your cat after the fire. He’s sick, but are you all right? Has he hurt you?”
“I’m fine.” Sam kept her voice soothing. “Has who hurt me?”
“Luc Herrick. He burned your house down, you know.”
“No, he didn’t. There’s a lot you don’t know. But Luc was there with me when an explosion started a fire.”
“Sam, come on. People are even starting to think he might be the werewolf.”
Instantly, though Sam didn’t know how he could have heard, Luc shook his head. “Tell her about the man who tried to grab you.”
“I will.” She made a motion meant to indicate that she’d like some privacy.
Inclining his head, Luc disappeared into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower started.
She tried not to think of him naked, with water sluicing off his trim, muscular body. “I’m with him.”
“Luc? Why?”
Sam filled in the details of Lucy’s illness and what Luc thought she could do. “I’m going to New York with him.”
“You’re doing what?” Patricia shrieked. “Have you lost your mind? You’ve only known this man a week. He gives you some bullshit story about a sick kid, and you’re going off with him?”
Put that way, it did sound rather stupid. However, Patricia didn’t know they’d already started the trip, or that Luc believed Sam was a healer. Nor about the strange and dangerous man who’d tried to snatch her. Yet.
“He told you what?”
Sam repeated Luc’s story about her father and the Pack.
“He’s crazy!” Patricia exclaimed. “I never would have believed it, but the to-die-for Luc Herrick is certifiably nuts.”
Sam felt obligated to defend him. Why, she had no idea. “There might be some truth to what he says.”
“Something in your voice…” Patricia said suspiciously. “What else is going on between you two?”
“He kissed me again,” Sam blurted, blushing when she realized she wanted him to do more. Much more.
“How? A peck on the cheek kind of kiss, or a teeth-touching, tongue-in-throat, where-have-you-been-all-my-life kind of kiss, like he did when I was over?’
Sam could feel her face heating ever worse. “The second.”
“Oh. Ohhh. Now I understand why you’re not laughing about this. Part of you wants to believe it.”
“Maybe. Actually, part of me wants to believe some of it. Not the bit about my father being a werewolf.”
“Hmm.” Patricia’s tone was thoughtful. “Maybe there is some truth to what he says. After all, you can heal animals.”
Sam closed her eyes. “I know,” she said. “That’s what makes all this even more frightening. ” She told her friend about the man who’d tried to grab her. “I think he set the fire. Luc saved my life.”
“You’re serious about going with him?”
“I am. I have to. Especially now.”
“I would think after all this, you’d have strong second thoughts. Doesn’t the weirdness aspect bother you at all?”
It did. Sam didn’t know which bothered her more—Luc’s crazy claim of being a shape-shifter, or the deep, soul-searing kisses they’d shared. She suspected her worry came from equal measures of both.
But where she could dismiss the first as the product of a fertile imagination, she couldn’t stop thinking about the second.
Why had he kissed her?
Worse, why had she kissed him back? And why did her body ache for his?
“I have to go with him,” she repeated.
This time, her friend was silent. Finally, she spoke. “Please, Sam. Reconsider.”
“I can’t. You should have seen Lucy’s picture. She’s so adorable and she’s only three and she’s dying. She’s at Sloan-Kettering in New York.” Sam pleaded with her friend to understand. “There’s no way I can turn my back on a terminally ill child.”
“But you’re going on a cross-country road trip with a man you don’t even know. Come on, Sam. You have more sense.”
What could she say to make her friend understand? “You’re forgetting he knew about Tomas.”
“You’re trusting him because of that? You mean you think he…that is, the wolf pup actually was…”
“A werewolf?” Interesting how Sam could say this with so much aplomb, when ten minutes ago she’d been thinking Luc was stark, raving crazy. “That would also explain how Tomas got out of the locked clinic.”
Touch of the Wolf Page 10