Storm Warrior g-1

by Dani Harper

  No way was she going to reveal that detail to the police, however. It sounded crazy, even to her. Jay, however, would likely believe her. Maybe I’ll tell him later.

  Jay chose that moment to come bouncing into the room, charms and ponytail bobbing. He bounced everywhere it seemed, even at ungodly hours of the morning. His wife always seemed high energy too. Maybe it was that organic food that Jay was always bringing for lunch…Whatever it was, Morgan wished she had some. “This guy’s way too big for any of the recovery kennels,” he said. “What do you think about putting him on a blanket and some foam in your office? We can close the door, and then he won’t be in the way in the morning. He’s going to be dozy for quite a while, so I don’t think he’ll make much of a mess in there.”

  “That’ll work just fine. I can sleep on the couch and keep an eye on him.” She rubbed both hands over her face and through her hair.

  “Why don’t you let me do that, Morgan?”

  “It’s okay, really. I’m way too tired to drive all the way to my place, and besides, you have a wife to go home to.”

  “Are you kidding? Starr would kill me if I let you sleep here alone after being attacked tonight. I’ll call her again, and then I’ll take the couch in the waiting room.”

  Morgan wanted to say no, it wasn’t necessary. But she knew, deep down, she was running on the last dregs of her adrenaline. Once it wore off, it would be a toss-up to see which would claim her first: exhaustion or the cold fear that swam just beneath the surface. “Thanks for that and for showing up tonight too. I don’t know what I would have done without you.”

  “Well, it would have been a helluva lot harder to get the dog into the clinic for one thing. When I drove up, it looked as if you were leaning over a moose calf, not a dog. He’s humongous. And that collar’s really something—straight out of The Lord of the Rings or something. Where did he come from?”

  “I have no idea,” she said honestly, as her heart made a decision she hoped her brain could live with. “But if no one claims him, I’m keeping him.”

  Morgan was certain she’d be too tired to dream, but no sooner had she closed her eyes than she found herself in a forest clearing by a fallen tree. Stars pinwheeled high above, and a group of horses milled about just within the trees. She could smell them, hear them as they stamped and snorted, making the sounds of animals settling for the night. She was far from settled. Instead she stood, naked, waiting, anticipating. Then she felt him standing behind her. He hadn’t made a sound, but she was as aware of this man’s presence as she was of her own.

  She quivered as he nuzzled the back of her neck, planting kisses there. His broad, rough palms skimmed lightly over her shoulders and down her arms to her wrists and back up to her shoulders to begin again. Down and up, barely touching her, down and up. It sensitized her skin until every part of her body was yearning to be touched. His strong hands glissed the length of her back, their power leashed. He traced intricate circles and symbols there with the same maddeningly gentle touch, as a soft, warm breeze flowed sensuously around her legs, her face, her breasts.

  Gradually his hands circled lower, grazing softly over her bottom, round and round, back and forth until she wanted to scream from the sheer tension. She could barely stand still. Her breasts were tight, her insides clenching until she could feel the moisture collecting between her legs. Touch me, damn it, please! Suddenly he gave her just what she’d been craving—he cupped her buttocks and squeezed them hard, kneaded them with his broad hands. It electrified her. The pleasure jolted her body, prickling her already hard nipples and tingling her through her clit.

  He pressed lightly on her upper back, bending her until she had to place her hands on the fallen tree. His other hand slid between her legs, and she parted them readily. She was aching to be rubbed and rubbed hard, but again, the broad fingers barely brushed over her tight wool and swollen lips. She tried to rub herself on his hand, but it eluded her, softly stroking her inner thighs instead until she trembled all over, nearly frantic with arousal and need.

  Without warning, he knelt behind her and began pressing soft, moist kisses to her buttocks. She was wriggling now, wanting more, but he threw a powerful arm around her hips and held her in place. Slowly, painstakingly, he kissed his way over every inch of her bottom, interspersing the kisses with light nips that were immediately laved with his tongue. Bliss shot through her like a hot current through copper wire. Her last coherent thought was to marvel that everything within her was so intricately connected that to be touched in one place was to be touched everywhere…

  Then two strong fingers slipped inside her, and all thought vanished as she gasped aloud. She slid down them, praying he wouldn’t pull them away, and nearly cheered when he thrust them deeper. She could feel her own rush of moisture, feel him alternately crook and splay his fingers as she rode them faster, harder. Gradually he added part of a third. Yes, oh, yes, omigod, yes…just like that, don’t stop, oh, don’t stop…The pleasure ramped up, even as her legs began to get rubbery, and his thickly muscled arm was holding her up as much as it held her to him. Faster, harder. He rubbed his thumb over her wet clit and triggered an avalanche. She screamed out as the orgasm thundered down on her, overwhelming her senses until she tumbled bonelessly into her lover’s lap.

  She looked up into his face just before she was jarred awake by the frantic peal of the alarm clock.

  FOUR

  The X-ray lab was dark, cool, and fairly quiet, a welcome respite from the busy clinic. Too bad the developer fumes had such a pungent odor to them, Morgan thought. The exhaust fan was on full blast, but still her eyes stung a little. She swished the film frames in the vertical tank of developing fluid as she watched the glowing numbers on the timer click down to zero. Quickly, she dunked the frames in the rinse tank, turned the timer on again, and leaned on the counter. Two weeks, her supplier had said. Just two more weeks until her shiny, new digital radiography equipment would be set up and installed. Two weeks until somebody finally hauled off the last of the antiquated equipment and chemicals she’d inherited when she bought the practice. Two weeks and her clinic would be fully in the twenty-first century. Only a couple of decades late.

  The satisfaction of achieving such a major goal and the prospect of never having to develop X-ray film again weren’t enough, however, to keep Morgan’s thoughts from straying to what had clearly been the hottest dream of her life. Not only had she had an intense orgasm, but she’d actually gotten off in her sleep! She’d awakened with her underwear damp, her body quivering and still clenching with little aftershocks of pleasure. Just thinking about it made certain parts of her body tingle anew.

  Blissful gratification aside, what intrigued her more was the glance she’d gotten of her dream lover. She didn’t recognize his face, and it wasn’t a face that any woman would forget. Handsome but not in a pretty way. He could have been a cowboy or a Viking or a sea captain—the strong features were definitely on the rugged side. Dark hair, nearly black, long enough to shadow a strange bluish symbol on his collarbone, a creature of some sort. What she remembered most, however, were his eyes. They were the color of ale and old gold. And they had looked at her with incredible tenderness, perhaps even love—

  Somebody banged on the door, making her jump. “You in there, Morgan?” It was Jay.

  “Yup, I’m here.” She knew he wouldn’t open the door, not with the red warning light on. “Finishing up the X-rays on that ferret.”

  “I just got off the phone with the cops. They found the guy. They’ve got him locked up right now, waiting for you to ID him.”

  “Really?” Relief washed over her, and suddenly she felt shaky all over. She was glad the younger vet couldn’t see her. “That’s great news, Jay, thanks.”

  “Thought you’d want to know. I put the officer’s number on your desk. If you want someone to go with you, Grady and I are both available.”

  “Thanks.” She was grateful for such good friends who were willing to back her u
p, but she wanted to do this by herself. She was hoping the process would be similar to what she’d seen on TV, where she could point the man out of a lineup from behind one-way glass. Maybe even by watching video footage in another room completely. However it was done, it would be satisfying to say, “That’s him,” and know her attacker was in jail.

  And if the black dog hadn’t intervened, her attacker would have been her killer—and likely never caught. It was fitting that she’d named the big canine on the clinic records with a Welsh word she’d borrowed from some of her grandmother’s stories. Rhyswr. Hero.

  He was surprised to awaken. He’d expected to be dead; he should be dead. But then the last time he’d thought that, the Tylwyth Teg had stepped in.

  They wouldn’t have saved him this time.

  He’d disobeyed the Fair Ones, using the powers they themselves had given him. He’d abandoned the land he was bound to, traveled the high winds in the guise of dark mist, crossed the cold seas, all on his own errand. He’d saved Morgan Edwards, a mortal marked for death, planning to forfeit his immortality and trade his life for hers.

  Yet, she had turned around and saved him. It shouldn’t be possible. He breathed when he had not breathed for centuries. It hurt to breathe, but that was even more of a miracle. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt anything. Not only did he live, he was mortal.

  Morgan called him Rhyswr. She’d whispered the Welsh word to him many times as she’d tended him. He knew what it meant although he didn’t feel like a hero. Rhyswr. Still, there was something strangely familiar about it. Long-forgotten memories began to rise to the surface of his mind, fragmented images, thoughts. Rhyswr, Rhyswr…

  Rhys! He was Rhys! He hadn’t heard his own name spoken since before the Romans captured him, hadn’t remembered it since the Tylwyth Teg changed him. Even fettered by this bestial form, he felt a rush of freedom course through him like strong drink. He felt something else too. A deep stirring in his heart for this woman who had given him so much.

  Rhys made a decision. He had not known freedom or choice in nearly two thousand years. This one time, he would both choose to serve and choose whom he would serve. Wherever Morgan Edwards went, he would follow her. He would be her protector to the end of his days.

  The big mastiff slept most of the time but was healing well. Morgan often snatched a few minutes throughout the day to sit with the dog, while she fingered the heavy metal collar around his muscled neck. Not only were there no tags or nameplate, she could find no fasteners, no buckles or clasps. It was like nothing she’d ever seen, and she’d been unable to remove it. Thick silver coils and links interlocked in an intricate Celtic design. An inset to the left of the throat framed a silvery creature inlaid with blue stones. It was definitely a canine, perhaps a hunting dog of some sort. The collar itself seemed more like a chain mail torque from a museum than any kind of pet restraint. It was as mysterious as the animal that wore it.

  “Where did you come from, Rhyswr?” she asked the sleeping dog. “Where are your owners? They’ve got to be missing you.” The mastiff must belong to American tourists, she had decided. It would certainly explain why the dog was following her bus, and more importantly, it was the only possible explanation for how the animal had gotten to the United States. However, she had been the sole American on her particular tour. Had the dog become separated from an earlier group? It was easy to picture frantic owners searching, backtracking, and finally finding their oversize pet in time to take it home. But what were the chances that his home was right here in Spokane Valley?

  The coincidences were almost beyond belief, but Morgan had been right that her partner Jay would believe her. He’d whistled at the strange story yet immediately begun coming up with ideas for locating the owners.

  Morgan had already contacted the travel agency, the tour company, even the British consulate. She’d left many messages for the older woman who had been her tour buddy too. Wouldn’t Gwen be amazed to know that the so-called grim had apparently followed Morgan home? So far, however, her calls hadn’t been returned. Perhaps her new friend was busy traveling somewhere else.

  With Jay’s help, Morgan managed to phone or e-mail every veterinarian, animal shelter, kennel club, groomer, and pet shop in the northwestern United States. Jay found a pair of mastiff breeders in the state that Morgan hadn’t known about, although calls to them revealed that their dogs were all brindle, not black. In fact, they insisted that mastiffs were never black. The breeders were happy to pass the information on to their association, however. There were ads running in two different Spokane newspapers and one in a tristate publication. Jay had even placed an ad in a couple of paranormal e-newsletters and several online forums that Morgan had never heard of. A week had gone by, then two, and still no one seemed to be missing a giant black dog with an expensive collar. It made no sense at all.

  “Well, Rhyswr, that’s it,” she told the dog as she snapped her cell phone shut. She was sitting on the floor and decided she had little hope of getting up. It wasn’t just that the oversize city yellow pages weighed heavily in her lap—the dog was dozing with his massive head resting on her leg. He might as well have been a pony. “I don’t think there’s anyone left on the planet I can contact.” Morgan stroked the dog’s velvety ears, worked her fingers into the thick glossy fur of his neck, and smiled as he nudged his head back in a clear signal for her to continue. “I’m really sorry that your owners have been so careless with you. But you’re welcome to come and live with me. What do you think about that?”

  The dog thumped his tail without opening his golden eyes.

  “I’ll take that as a yes. I know you’re still stiff and sore, but it’s time to get you out of my office. It’s starting to smell kind of doggy in here, you know? You’ll like my place. I’ve got some land and a whole lot of trees, just right for a big fella like you.” His tail thumped again and she smiled. “Somehow I can’t picture you in my car, even if I open the sunroof, so I’ve got the keys to the clinic van. If that doesn’t work, well, I guess there’s always the livestock trailer.”

  Transporting the dog proved to be easier than she expected. She’d been afraid that the step up into the van would be difficult for the injured animal, but she’d forgotten how tall he was. Although his wound made him slow, Rhyswr walked into the van almost effortlessly and sat calmly with his nose at her shoulder as she drove to her home in a rural area north of the city limits. When she’d bought the run-down farm two years ago, she’d wondered if she was making a mistake. The commute would be long, and while the sprawling old house was in much better shape than the barns and outbuildings, it had still required a great deal of upgrading. But the farm had rapidly become her sanctuary. And for a king-size canine, it would be heaven on earth.

  Morgan pulled into the long, winding driveway and was soon standing in the grass with her new four-legged roommate. She’d looped a leash around the heavy metal collar, but it wasn’t necessary. The mastiff looked to her for his cues, moved when she moved, his great head level with her waist. “Well, Rhyswr, this is the place,” she said as she unlocked the front door. “But I’m sure not going to carry you over the threshold.” She stepped inside and held the door open. Here, the dog hesitated. He lowered his head and peered inside, uncertain.

  “Come on, boy, it’s okay. You can come in,” Morgan coaxed. “You belong here. This is your new home. Come on home, Rhyswr.”

  The great animal chuffed and stepped forward. But as the dog cleared the doorway, the air was filled with a bell-like clanging that made Morgan cringe and cover her ears. When the metallic tones finally died away, the silvery collar lay on the floor. “Omigod, all I did was tie a leash around it!” Kneeling, she tried to pick it up and was surprised to find that many of the finely woven coils had shattered. She was staring at the broken links in her hands when an enormous wet pink washcloth blocked her vision. “Hey!”

  His tail wagging furiously, the huge black creature was almost puppylike in his sudde
n desire to wash her face with his tongue. “Stop that. Yuck! No licking, no licking!” It was a challenge for Morgan to regain her footing—not just because the dog was so big and kept knocking her off-balance but because she was laughing so hard. Finally, she braced herself against a wall and gripped the dog’s wrinkly muzzle with both hands. She didn’t have a hope of holding those giant jaws closed, but at least only her fingers were getting wet. Finally, the dog got the message and settled for nuzzling instead.

  “Feels good to have that heavy thing off your neck, doesn’t it?” She rubbed behind the dog’s ears as he wagged his tail in apparent agreement. “Let’s get this cleaned up, and then I’ll give you a tour of the place.”

  Despite his size, Rhyswr wasn’t clumsy in the least. Morgan had expected a bull-in-a-china-shop scenario, with visions of him bumping into her furniture as his great black tail swept things off tables and shelves. After all, that would be par for the course with most large dogs. However, nothing of the sort happened, even though Rhyswr was clearly pleased to be with Morgan. She could almost swear he was being deliberately careful, a quality unknown among most canines—their enthusiasm got the better of them most of the time.

  She put together a salad at the kitchen counter for dinner, with the big mastiff sitting quietly next to her. He could easily see over the counter—and reach everything on it if he’d been so inclined. Instead, he was perfectly well behaved, happy to simply listen as she talked. That was a surprise to her too: how pleasant it was to have someone to talk to at the end of the day. She could definitely get used to it. “I always thought that being a vet meant I wouldn’t have time for a dog of my own, that I couldn’t offer it a good life. I keep pretty long hours—guess I should have warned you about that.”