by Sadie Hart
A harsh laugh burst from him, sharp and blunt. “Yeah.”
She lifted an eyebrow but braced her hands on the ladder. “I’ll keep it steady.”
He almost wished she’d let him fall. Maybe that would knock some sense into him.
Chapter Seven
Brandt stretched out on Timber’s couch, listening to the occasional murmur of nighttime birdsong outside her window. Darkness cloaked the windows, and the low glow of a lamp on the table beside him cast the room in shadows. Dinner had been an awkward affair, consisting of frozen meals and stilted conversation.
He knew she was a private person, and here he was, all up in her space. But she was doing the best she could. That much he could see. She hadn’t wanted him here, but she was trying to make him feel at home anyway. Brandt leaned his head against the armrest.
Tate had called shortly after dinner, nothing new, and he’d sent the pack home in time for the evening shift. Brandt didn’t know how long he’d been lying there, drifting in and out of sleep, the facts playing over and over again in his head.
Timber’s scream cut through the silence, jarring him wide awake and to his feet, his hand instantly going for his gun. He tripped and almost fell over the blanket curled around his ankles, and kicked his way loose. Another scream ricocheted through the house, so full of terror it hollowed him out, left him frozen to the core. This was the kind of sound that gave meaning to words like blood-curdling.
Jesus. Brandt bolted up the stairs, his every sense on high alert. Another scream ripped through the shattered remnants of the silence, then another, and another. “Timber!”
He flung open her door to see her thrashing in her bed. Her covers were wrapped tight around her, tangling her like a noose, and she fought. Wildly, violently, and each thrash was punctuated by another scream.
Brandt scanned the dark room. Nothing. Setting his gun on her bedside table, Brandt reached for her, his hands gripping her upper arms as he hauled her up to a sitting position.
“Timber. Wake up, Timber.” Her eyes flew open, frantic and desperate with terror. She lashed out at him but he held her still. “Easy there, girl. Easy.”
Brandt made sure to keep his voice calm, soothing. Her screams faded into breathless, ragged gasps. She was trembling, hard enough that he thought she might shatter if he let go.
Damn that bastard and what he’d done to her.
“Easy, Timber,” Brandt whispered, but her breathing didn’t slow. It kept picking up pace. “You’re hyperventilating. I need you to breathe with me.”
Her hands gripped his wrists like steel, holding onto him as if she’d float away if she let go.
“You’re safe,” Brandt said. “He’s not here. He can’t get to you here.”
“I need—” The words were cut off with another panicked gasp. “Let go.”
Shit. Brandt let go and stepped back. The last thing he’d wanted was to make it worse. But she didn’t pull away. Timber used her grip on his arms to pull herself to her feet. She staggered, and he realized she was shaking so hard she could barely walk. He started to reach for her again, but she slapped a hand out at the wall and stumbled down the hall, leaving him to stare after her from her bedroom door.
Something about the way she made that walk down the hall told him it was habit. Ritual.
Brandt followed while she flicked on the lights in the bathroom and gripped the marble sink. Her breathing slowed while she stared in the mirror, the trembles fading. He watched as she gathered herself, picking up the pieces that nightmare had ripped from her, and putting herself back together again.
She touched her hair, running her hands over the long purple waves, and she shuddered. Again and again she touched the odd-colored locks, and Brandt watched the relief settle in her eyes. Right before she ran a hand down her chest where her breast should have been. A wash of sadness crowded in then.
It had been hard enough for him to listen to what she’d been through; he just hoped she didn’t have to relive it every night. Hoped that somehow she managed to find peace. This was his fault. He’d forced her to dredge it all up, but when it was done, he just hoped she might be able to go back to some semblance of normal.
He hoped, but after seeing the shattered bits of fear still roiling in her eyes, he wasn’t so sure.
***
You’re safe. Safe. Here. Now. The familiar litany reverberated in her head. A mantra she’d recited a hundred thousand times while she stared her reflection down in the mirror. She’d left Charles, escaped, he couldn’t find—
Her gaze met Brandt’s in the mirror and she froze.
This time, oddly, it wasn’t fear that stole through her then. It was anger. A flash fire that suddenly burned bright inside her. She was supposed to be free, damn it. She’d lived through it last time. She’d gotten away. How the hell had he found her again?
She fisted her hand in her shirt, just over her heart. What else did the man want to take from her?
“Timber,” Brandt said softly.
She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to look at Brandt any more, not even through the mirror. He’d watched her while she’d been nothing more than a screaming banshee. Seen her here, while she’d tried to pull herself back together. To reassemble the sharp edges of her soul when they no longer fit just right.
She was jagged, rough, scarred, incomplete.
“You’re okay.” His voice drifted around her, and she found herself leaning back against the wall beside her shower. Okay?
She’d told herself that every day since she left Charles. It’d taken her a long time to believe it. It only took Charles one day to destroy that illusion.
“I wish he’d die,” she said finally, because it was the only thing she could think of to break the silence now stretching out between them. It was the only way she could be certain this could truly end.
Brandt stepped closer, and it should have made her nervous. Should have set her heart racing all over again, but something inside insisted he wouldn’t hurt her. She wanted to argue, that it was exactly this kind of man who could destroy her. A man she could trust, have faith in, feel safe with, and he could throw it all away, and she wouldn’t ever see it coming.
But the moment his hand slid along her shoulders Timber felt herself leaning into his embrace. Tears burned at the back of her eyes and she tried to blink them away. God. But he’d already seen her screaming her fool head off, he didn’t need to see her crying too.
“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”
Timber let Brandt lead her back to her bedroom, but she never could sleep after a dream like that. But what was she supposed to tell him? He was sleeping on her couch. He didn’t need her up all night reading in the chair next to him. Exhaustion tugged at her, a constant, aching pull. She needed sleep. Normally her psyche gave her a break every now and then. At least enough to catch a few hours. But with everything going on, it was no surprise she wasn’t sleeping at all.
Timber lingered in the doorway to her room. Brandt had paused with her, as if sensing her reluctance. “What do you normally do instead?” he whispered, the kindness in that question squeezing her heart.
“Read. Coffee. Stare at the clock until dawn. Before Becky’s death, I’d go for a run.” And the moment she said it, that was what she craved. To let the moonlight gleam along her fur, the wind chasing her as she ran. Freedom. It was the one thing that reminded her that she was no longer chained to a bed. That she was free.
Running had always helped her sleep.
She could feel him studying her, but her gaze was locked on her bedroom window and the tree beyond.
“You’ll have to stay with me,” he said softly, and for a moment she didn’t understand. She watched him mutely as he walked over to the bedside table and picked up his gun. “Can’t say I’ve ever run with a wolf. Are wolfhounds faster?”
He cocked his head to look at her, a bare attempt at a smile on his face, at a joke, and she laughed, surprising the hell out of her
self. “Can’t say I’ve ever run with a wolfhound, either.”
“I’ll need my holster.” He jerked his chin toward the hall and the stairs beyond.
She understood his reasoning. Clothes, jewelry, it all shifted with them. It wasn’t something she’d ever understood, it was just part of the magick of being a shifter. But it also meant that Brandt could bring his gun, and if danger found them in the woods, he could shift back and immediately be armed. Timber swallowed back the growing lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
Brandt nodded. “Just stay with me. No running off out there.”
“Yes, sir.” She flashed him the first real grin she’d felt in days.
She followed him downstairs, waited while he clipped on his holster, then rushed to the front door. The moment the cool night air hit her she felt her wolf rise, eager. The animal had lived in fear and desperation for as long as she had, but it knew as well as she did what a night run meant. The beast trembled inside her, and she glanced back at Brandt as he stepped out beside her, shutting the door behind him.
“Go ahead.” His gaze scanned the front of her house. Watching. Alert.
For the first time since before Charles, she let someone else watch her back. Timber let the wolf out. The change was fast, a rush of magick and then she was standing on four feet, the rich scents of the night filling her. Her tail wagged and she turned back to Brandt, ears pricked forward, to see a gangly dog standing next to her.
He was taller than she was, all lean legs and wiry gray fur. His ears were floppy and short, his muzzle long, with gray curls that poked up on his nose. She opened her mouth and let her tongue loll out in a canine grin. His eyes hadn’t changed at all. They were still the same mocha brown. His whipcord tail wagged, and that was enough for her.
Timber spun, her lean wolf body lunging into the night. Her fur was black, specked with silver on her underbelly. A human would have had trouble spotting her as she ran through the shadows. Brandt had no trouble staying with her. His long strides ate up the ground beside her as he kept pace for a while, and then lowered his head to blow past her.
A thrill darted through her wolf, and she felt the animal dig deeper, charging after him, a joyous howl bursting from her. Brandt spun back then, and for a moment reality kicked in. She shouldn’t be making noise. Shouldn’t be—
He shouldered into her and leapt away, the lean gray body dropping easily into a play bow. A yip and then he was gone again. Never running straight away, always keeping her in sight. But the message was clear. Let loose.
And that’s exactly what she did.
With a soft, playful snarl, Timber darted after him. They danced under the moonlight. Two canines, wolf and hound, running over the clipped grass of her back yard, careening around the trees in the small copse beside her house. They never strayed far, Brandt always steering them home, but in the hours under the moon she felt free.
More than that, though.
She felt happy.
Chapter Eight
His left arm was numb, heavy. With a groan, Brandt shifted, still half asleep, as he tried to coax some feeling back into the limb. Damn. Sleeping on a couch was like medieval torture. He’d be lucky if every cell and molecule didn’t ache today.
Blinking blearily into the soft morning light that filled Timber’s living room, he found himself staring at the soft purple hair scattered over his chest. Her hand clutched at his shirt, as if even in sleep something stalked her, terrified her, and she was clinging to any hope of safety. Then again, after hearing her screams last night, he had no doubt that something in her dreams still stalked her. Terrified her.
Unable to help himself, Brandt reached out with the arm not trapped under Timber’s weight and brushed aside a long strand of hair. Her skin was so soft. She was also beautiful. Purple hadn’t exactly been on his list of sexy colors, but seeing it now, the way it framed her face, bringing out the red of her lips, making them look so perfectly kissable...
Brandt leaned his head back against the armrest with a sigh.
She was a job. Someone to protect. A victim.
He sure as hell shouldn’t be obsessing about kissing her.
Timber snuggled closer into his chest with a soft moan, and desire flared like she’d tossed a lit match into a pool of gasoline. He went up in a whoosh of flames. Especially when one thigh slipped over his, pinning his hips against hers.
He’d been a fool to end up like this. A bloody, damn fool.
He’d taken her out on a run last night because he suspected, after seeing the longing in her eyes when she gazed out the window, that a good run, free in the moonlight, was the only way she would find any peace. Or get any sleep. And after hearing those heart-rending screams, he simply couldn’t deny her that relief. She had been happy, too. Free. Running and playing outside like a pup, the little girl within her free and happy. She’d still been laughing when they shifted back and went back inside for the night.
Just the memory of her laugh made him smile.
But the moment she looked at those stairs, she’d hesitated. All the fear she’d shed earlier had stormed back into her eyes. With hindsight, he understood exactly how she’d ended up sleeping on the couch next to him. But at the time he hadn’t expected one movie to turn into three, or that somewhere along the way he’d fall asleep, and so would she.
And he sure as hell hadn’t expected to wake up with her tangled around him, her so-perfectly-kissable lips just inches from his as she snuggled into his neck. Brandt drew in a long, deep breath and begged for restraint. Then her eyes opened, and any rational thoughts he had fluttered right back out of his mind. Brandt swallowed.
“Morning,” he said, the word sounding rough, even to him.
Her gaze slipped down to his chest and her fingers played against his shirt. Brandt just focused on breathing. Breathing and ignoring the heat of her hips against his. Damn, but she had to feel that. Then her hand pressed flat against his chest and she moved, rising up until her lips snared his in a kiss.
Shit. Brandt gripped her hips, but he couldn’t push her away. Instead, he dragged her closer, his body straining up into hers, his mouth opening to invite her inside. Her tongue writhed against his, teasing, tasting, and Brandt growled, a low, dark sound. Then he rose up, turning her gently until she lay on the couch with him leaning over her.
He broke the kiss first, but he didn’t pull away. Not when his lips found the edge of her jaw, the smooth hollow with her pulse, the curve of her neck. Timber shuddered beneath him, her breath a whisper against his skin. Brandt pressed his face into the side of her neck and inhaled. Her scent rolled through him—wolf and female—and he wanted nothing more than to taste it again.
But he’d already crossed far too many lines this morning.
“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, and tried to pull back.
Timber’s ragged laugh hiccupped beneath him. “My fault. I started that one.”
Though he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why. She was blunt, callous at times, off-putting. She’d made no secret about her dislike of having a Hound around the house, and yet her fingers were still clutching his shirt, one leg still wrapped around his, holding him to her.
“Thank you,” Timber said, reaching up with her other hand to run her fingers along the edge of his jaw. “For last night.”
A tinge of fear and sadness crept into her gaze.
“Any time.” Though, if they always ended up like this in the morning...
Her eyes softened as she stared up at him. “I don’t know what it is about you that makes me feel safe.”
Hell. He didn’t know either, but he was honored. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the panicked screams last night, he didn’t think she ever got much sleep. And the wary, everyone-out-of-my-life attitude she maintained told him she didn’t let many people in, either. The fact that he could help her feel safe, even just a little, shocked the hell out of him.
Brandt touched her temple, trailing
his fingers down along the length of her hair. He watched as she closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch. Most people wouldn’t realize the vulnerable she voluntarily put herself in when she closed her eyes, but it took trust to take away one of your senses in the presence of another person, especially for someone like Timber. The fact she could trust him at all, even for a second...Brandt shook his head.
She released him then, slowly, and he mourned the loss of her warmth when she began to pull away. Brandt dragged himself off the couch and took a few steps back, needing to put some distance between them. Something about her made his brain short-circuit, especially when she kissed him.
Timber rolled to a sitting position, and Brandt watched her notice where she’d ended up on the couch, an edge of a smile touching her lips. She looked up at him, not shying away from the moment like most would. “So, what’s on your list for today?”
He opened his mouth to answer her when he heard his phone ring, muffled and soft. It sounded again and Brandt’s eyes tracked the noise to the couch, where a sliver of black peeked from between the couch cushions.
“Never mind,” Timber said, pulling his phone out and passing it to him on her way to the stairs. “Duty calls.”
The stairs creaked as she walked up, and Brandt glared down at the glowing screen. Tate. Scrubbing his head irritably, he lifted the phone to his ear. “Yeah.”
“You sound like hell.”
“What do you need, Tate?”
“Well, I had the local packs pass around that picture we have on Charles Wolfe? One of Bannock’s girls has had a run-in with him before. Thought this was a chat you’d want to participate in.”
Jackpot. “For sure. Great work. When are you meeting with her?”
“Bannock agreed to let us into Delphi first thing this morning. Whenever you get here, boss, we can be on our way.”