by Vaughn, V.
A run was just what he needed after a hell of a day. Once he’d wrapped up business — to the extent that it could be wrapped up for the night — he had cleaned out the Jeep and discovered a torn luggage tag. Lana’s. He’d sniffed the scrap, turned it over in his hands, and sniffed again. Even that little hint of her was intoxicating. Then he read the full name and address and froze.
Dixon. Lana Dixon. From the Berkshires, he remembered Aunt Jean saying.
Half the desert seemed to lodge in his throat at that moment of realization. Aunt Jean couldn’t have been so bold as to invite one of those Dixons here, could she? He remembered his father cursing the name. If a Dixon ever tries to step foot here, I’ll kill him — or her. His voice had been shaking as he said it, finger stabbing every word.
Lana was a Dixon? Here? It was pure insanity; his father wouldn’t stand for it.
Except, of course, that his father wasn’t home…yet. He’d be back in a week. Something in Ty’s jaw twitched at the thought. Why would Jean act against his father’s orders? And did Lana even know about the history between their families?
No, he decided; if she did, she would never have stepped foot on the ranch with that innocent, oblivious air.
He needed to run, to think. There were too many volcanoes rumbling, all of them threatening to erupt at once. The rogues. Lana and the shattering effect she had on him. The danger she had unknowingly wandered into. The mincemeat his father would make of him when he returned.
He gave his muzzle a vicious shake. A Dixon, back after all these years. Was it really possible?
He made a long, punishing loop to the west, then eased into a lope and turned north, making straight for his special place. The moon wasn’t yet up, the stars all the brighter for its absence. Problems looked smaller from his hill. He knew it was an illusion, but hell, he needed a break like never before.
He pounded onto higher ground, past the last stands of thistle and the rambling barberry that marked his own private turf where no one dared disturb him. There, on the highest point of land, he looked east, beyond the slumbering valley. Any second now…
There. The rising moon. The globe was a few days short of full, but plump and heavy all the same. He could feel it singing through the earth even before the upper curve stole its first furtive glance over the ridge line. When the body followed, its pale light flipped a switch inside him. His rump hit the ground, his muzzle pointed up, and a low, rumbling cry left his muzzle. It rose, fell, then climbed again, bouncing off each undulation of the landscape. The desert was made for howling, lifting and amplifying the sound the way no other place could. He could howl all night, lose himself in the bittersweet ballad.
Lana — Lana Dixon — was here on the ranch. So near, so impossibly far. She was forbidden fruit, the Capulet to his Montague. The thought of what he would be denied gave him all the more reason to howl. He tipped his head back more and spilled his soul into the night. Hope, despair, and yearning, all tumbled together in his heart song.
Alone. He’d always be alone.
* * *
Lana sensed the other wolf as a vague feeling even before she heard the measured breath of an athlete, the confident step of one at home. A shiver ran through the landscape at his approach, and everything hushed in anticipation. Then one of the shadows wavered and a wolf emerged from the darkness, heading to the highest outcrop a stone’s throw away. She crouched, watching. The wind was with her; he hadn’t caught her scent.
It was the most magnificent wolf she’d ever seen. Big. Taller than her by a head. His coat was a midnight shade of brown, like the strongest, most bitter coffee — no cream, no sugar, concentrated into a syrup you’d be crazy to sip, let alone swallow.
Ty, as bold and brooding in canine form as on two feet. A shudder of anticipation rolled through her.
The soft texture of his coat was framed by the harsh landscape, and power rolled off him like a heat wave. Frustration, too — mountains of it. When Ty tilted his head and howled, her heart stuttered. That bass was the voice of a prisoner, yearning to break free. Low and sorrowful, it swelled and modulated but never broke. She leaned into the night air, wanting to brush up against him, wanting to ease the unbearable loneliness.
In the next slow heartbeats, his voice seemed to grow louder, nearer. With a blink, she realized her wolf had taken up the cry too, and was pouring her soul into the night with him. The moon just yanked it out of her.
She pounded every aching minute of the past years into her howl and let the vast space multiply it a dozen times over. Ty’s voice wavered as hers rose, and then broke off altogether. She wanted so badly for him to acknowledge the force that seemed to lasso them together, again and again. Destiny was at work here. Couldn’t he tell?
She strained for some sign, but Ty didn’t answer. She howled until her voice cracked on a last, echoing note, then let her head sink to the ground as silence crushed in around her. Maybe fate was playing an ever crueler trick this time, giving her a man who didn’t love her back. She counted one hollow heartbeat, then another, feeling hope drain away. A tumbleweed hurried past; perhaps it, too, was chasing a reluctant mate.
That’s when Ty started up again. She could have wept at the sound, half in joy, half in sorrow. She joined in on his next refrain, swelling with hope as their voices merged. The sound formed a bridge, and she could swear she felt his heart beat in her chest as their voices carried high and far. Their duet was a serenade, an incantation, urging the moon higher so that it might brighten the darkness and show them the way.
Every living thing stopped, listening in a reverent hush. Even the moon seemed to bend an ear. They struck their most perfect chord, and Lana hung on to it so long, so breathlessly, that she didn’t notice when Ty stopped. Only that the night was still, except for his footfalls, drawing near.
She pulled in a sharp breath and trembled, fighting every instinct to drop her head in submission. Tonight, he wasn’t the pack alpha. He was her mate.
Yes, her mate. Her wolf knew it and made damn sure any hesitation from her human side was firmly locked away.
God, he was big. Imposing. Proud. His eyes were bright and full of surprise at the female who refused to back away. She forced her tail to stay straight as a flag instead of letting it droop between her hind legs. If they were to be mates, they would do it on equal terms. She lifted her chin when he stopped, half a step away, the soft huff of his breath the only moving thing in the crisp night air.
When his muzzle went left, sniffing her space, hers mirrored the motion. When he swung right, she stayed in the middle. Let him look all he wanted. Let him come closer. Let him touch.
As if bidden, Ty stepped forward and did a slow lap of her body, his nose tracing an invisible boundary above her back, then breaking through it until he was brushing along her side. A spark crackled on her coat at his first contact, and her pulse started throbbing in her veins.
Mine! Mate!
Surely he knew it now, too?
Her heart thumped wildly as she leaned closer, pushing past the outer tips of his fur to feel the warmth beneath. He pulled slowly along the length of her left side and up to her face, then ran the underside of his chin over the nape of her neck in the ultimate wolf sign of trust. Much as she was tempted to roll and offer him her belly, she stood firmly on four feet. The daughter of an alpha could damn well hold her own, even if it meant hiding an inner tremble.
She started her own slow dance, running her muzzle up his neck and over his shoulder until they were intertwined, slow-wrestling for closer contact. She’d never felt warmth like this before — warmth that had her imagining the surrounding landscape lit with a thousand flickering candles set in irregular rows that turned the night into a place of worship. In a place like that, even the most jaded soul could find faith.
As Ty circled again, the inner throbbing grew more insistent. He paused at her rump, and this time, she dropped her haunches in a thinly veiled hint. She was ready for her mate. Burning for him,
in fact. Instinct chanted within her, wanting him to mount, to slide inside, to give her pleasure like no lover ever before. Want became spoken need as she let out a low whine. Ty gave off an answering call, a rumble from deep within his chest that grew as he circled yet again and nuzzled her, face to face. He did it over and over, a gesture fit for a caring lover, not a mighty wolf who took what he wanted, as hard and fast as he wanted. It was she who was rushing, insisting. She couldn’t help a little yowl, an insistent nudge of her hips.
Ty’s rumble went deeper and she could sense a shiver of anticipation sweep through his body. His uneven breath and slow, almost reverent movements told her that this was different than the hundred ordinary conquests of a much-sought-after alpha.
Faith. She had to have faith. Even if he didn’t recognize her as his mate yet, the time would come.
She only intended to let out an encouraging yip, but she found herself in another heartfelt howl that begged the moon to shine the truth into Ty’s eyes. A weight squeezed in beside her — Ty — and he howled too, underpinning her voice with his deeper harmony. She could picture a thousand moonlit nights spent in exactly this way. They’d let their voices wrap around each other, then let their bodies follow suit.
Every living thing in the desert stopped, listening to their song in a reverent hush. But just as they struck their most perfect chord, Ty’s voice cut off in mid-cry.
A deathly quiet suffocated the hills, and her head snapped left to study Ty. In an instant, her mate had gone from singer to solid rock. His hackles were raised from nape to tail and his nose pointed at something — someone? — out in the shadows.
She tried to chisel some feature out of the darkness as a dozen mixed emotions coursed through her veins. Anger was foremost: anger at the trespasser who’d interrupted their serenade and made her mate an alpha again, protector of his pack. Awe came in a close second, because the power radiating off Ty was overwhelming. In the space of a heartbeat, he’d morphed from tender lover to king of the night. He stood stiff and tall, his only movement the flare of his nostrils and his bristling fur.
She sniffed the air. There was something out there, all right. Something distant and barely perceptible, like the pressure front at the leading edge of a desert storm. The hair along her spine spiked. Could it be the rogues?
When Ty shifted forward, she did the same. He took a step west, sniffing, then swung his head back to her with a quiet growl. Their special moment was gone, and he wanted her gone so he could tend to the threat hovering in the night.
Go, his hard eyes said.
She took a defiant step forward. She would not be cowed. She would stand by him, not retreat. She would fight alongside him. She would—
Go. Now. That steely look was a direct order, alpha to subordinate.
Everything in her wanted to hate him at that moment. But instead of hating, her heart cracked wider open. Didn’t he know he didn’t have to face every enemy alone? Didn’t he know she wanted to stand by his side?
His look didn’t waver, and she had her answer. Duty came first with this man, duty above everything else.
Lana wanted to protest, but an order from an alpha was law, and she had no choice but to obey. It hurt, though, being brushed aside. Just like the frustrating days of her childhood, before she’d finally earned the right to fight alongside her brothers and make a stand for her pack.
But this wasn’t her pack, not yet, anyway. Her shoulders turned away, and although her eyes tried to hang on to Ty, they, too were forced to join the retreat. She could practically hear the snakeweed snicker. Would this alpha ever respect her as an equal, or would he only see her as helpless and meek?
Lana didn’t do helpless. She didn’t know meek. She was a fighter, a leader in her own right.
Her human side bucked against his rejection. He didn’t want her help? Well, she didn’t want or need that kind of mate.
Her wolf, though, howled in protest, seeing a lifetime of regret ahead if she didn’t act. No! We can’t give him up without a fight!
They’d been so close to some great truth a moment ago. She could feel it. Finally her heart was waking up, like a seed that had been waiting for exactly the right conditions to germinate — and now this?
She gave her coat a violent shake, launching all but the most resolute burrs back into the scrub. Damned if she wasn’t going to give her heart its due. Her stumble became a trot, her mind plotting as her paws padded over the cool ground. Tonight might not be the moment, but soon, she would find a way to win her mate. And if it ended in an excruciating crash and burn, well, at least she would know she’d tried.
Watch out, Alpha, she half-muttered as she slipped back toward the ranch. Next time, I won’t let you let me go.
Chapter 6
For three days, Lana cast furtive glances around the ranch for Ty. The few times she spotted the alpha, he was silently smoldering or emitting his two-syllable version of speech. Even from a distance, she could feel the air shimmer and tense between them, but each time she sent a tentative thought his way, it hit a firewall. Shifters could usually sense one another’s moods well, but Ty was unreadable. And if she got too close, he simply moved off in the opposite direction. Surely she hadn’t been imagining the connection they’d made that night on the hill, so why was he avoiding her now?
A creeping doubt set in, telling her if she didn’t act soon, she might lose her chance at her mate. But when to act, and how? She could hardly force the pack alpha to bend to her will.
Worse yet were the doubts. What if he never came around? What if he didn’t want her? What if this was all just another cruel trick of destiny?
The one time she saw a woman touch Ty, her blood welled up so fast, she thought it might erupt out of her ears. It was Audrey again, that bleached blond who worked every inch of her voluptuous curves. The woman had the subtle social graces of a stripper. She didn’t walk; she swung, working an invisible audience. When she laid a groping hand on Ty’s forearm, every hair on Lana’s neck went stiff. She barely held her wolf in check as Ty extracted himself and moved away. Audrey had watched him go with the look of a raptor eying its prey. Or was it a fox, plotting her next move? Either way, Lana decided to add Audrey to the list of dangers out here in the Wild West.
The rest of the pack members were friendly enough, though busy in their own pursuits. That was fine with Lana; she was here to help her grandmother settle in, not to socialize. According to Jean, there were close to two hundred shifters on the ranch, many scattered across isolated parts of the vast property. Some of them worked the land, while the rest were involved in broader pack businesses that ranged across Central Arizona, from construction to consultancies and commercial real estate. Relations with their immediate neighbors were generally good, though a change in management over at the neighboring Seymour Ranch was the subject of concern, especially since an adjoining corner of that property had been deeded to the state as park land. The last thing the pack wanted was outsiders anywhere near their home.
“We could use someone like you, Lana!” Jean said as they hung pictures on day three.
They could, Lana knew. Back at home, she worked on land management issues, and the stakeholders she negotiated between were essentially the same as they were here: the pack, the public, commercial interests, and environmental lobbyists. So, yes, she could bring a lot of experience to Twin Moon Ranch.
If she wanted to stay.
One sniff of the desert air reminded Lana just why she should, and just why she shouldn’t.
She changed the subject quickly. “How real is this rogue threat?”
“I’m sure Ty has it under control,” Jean said with forced calm.
She held back a snort. The only way to control a rogue was a fight to the death, and from the sound of it, there were several on the prowl. Would it come to that? She had to admit that she itched to fight, to act. Anything to ease the tension in the air.
More than that, she itched with a desperate need to connect
with Ty. That need wasn’t just rooted in her heart or mind; it was hard-wired into her soul, and her whole being ached with it. For years, she’d been telling herself that a broken heart was as bad as it got, but now she was thinking that a functioning one was even worse. Ty, Ty, Ty. His name was a chant in her blood, and it pulsed through every part of her body, day and night.
She’d tried running off her frustration after dark, but found only temporary relief. The minute she stopped moving and shifted back to her human form, she would lie in bed burning from her own heat. Using her fingers on herself provided only the slightest bit of the release she craved. It worked if she imagined Ty’s hands gliding over her body and sliding into her core, imagined that it was his weight pressing down on her instead of emptiness. But afterwards, she was just as heated and empty as before.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Nan asked, pulling her attention back to the house.
“Fine, fine,” Lana lied between hammer blows to a nail on the wall where her grandmother wanted a picture.
“Enjoying the ranch?”
Lana pinched the next nail between her lips and made as neutral a sound as she could, then gave the first nail another couple of murderous hits. She’d be enjoying the ranch a hell of a lot more if Ty would stop avoiding her.
She tried to shake the feeling off, but it was as deeply rooted as the porcupine quills she’d seen lodged in the muzzle of a miserable-looking ranch dog. That was her: a stupid mutt. If only someone would come along with a pair of pliers and yank the heartache out of her.
Surely her happiness didn’t depend on one man, let alone a bossy alpha. You can damn well function without a man.