Wolf at the Door

by Sadie Hart

  He lay on his side, his knees tucked up to his chest. He’d tried to protect his vitals, but every time Charles rammed a knife or that fucking taser through the bars, it got harder and harder to remember that he didn’t want the knife to hit something vital. That he didn’t want to die.

  Wolfe knelt outside the cage and Brandt could see the blurry outline of his jeans. “You should have stayed away,” Wolfe said, his voice conversational. “Should have just packed up your Hounds and left. She isn’t yours. She’s mine.”

  A growl rumbled through Brandt’s chest the moment Wolfe said that word. “She’s not yours. She never was, and she never will be.”

  He spat blood at Wolfe’s feet, ignoring the wash of pain and the little black dots that suddenly danced in front of his eyes. Wolfe lunged at him, the metal cage rattling around Brandt. Suddenly it jerked upwards and Brandt fell back against the bars. Then a hand reached in and hauled him out. He hit the ground, the cement scraping his shoulder, right before Wolfe’s boot slammed into his gut.

  A gurgling, strangled cough broke out of him. Brandt tried to fight. He was finally free of the cage, but even as he scrambled on the blood-slick floor, lashing out with both arms to knock Wolfe way, the silver blade slashed down, cutting a neat line through his forearm.

  Even through the pain, Brandt reacted, pushing into the cut. His hands gripped the wrist Wolfe held the knife in and twisted. Wolfe’s grip on the knife loosened and Brandt grabbed it. He spun, desperately trying to get the blade up between his hands. He sawed at the knife just before searing pain shot through him again, jolts from the taser bringing him to his knees. The knife went spinning over the ground.

  But the ropes on his hands had loosened. Not much, but enough. The silver no longer cut into his wrists and without the burning effects, he could shift. His inner dog clambered to the surface and Brandt shifted. The dog flowed out of him, the silver in his wounds burning as they partially healed in the change. He was still hurt, still bleeding, but the ropes fell away. At least now he was free and he armed again. He bared teeth in a satisfied growl. About damned time.

  Brandt spun, lashing out with teeth and claws while Wolfe brought the knife down again. It glanced off his shoulder, slicing through the wiry fur and muscle. Brandt jerked his head around. As a wolfhound, he wasn’t a small dog. His kind had been bred to hunt wolves, and they had to be big and fast enough to do it.

  His long jaws clamped down around Wolfe’s forearm, biting down hard enough to make the other man squeal. The knife clattered to the ground before Wolfe used his other hand to ram the taser into Brandt’s side. Jolts shot through him and he yelped, his long limbs giving out, and his body hit the ground.

  “Freeze!” a woman shouted, followed by the crack of gunfire.

  Brandt recognized the masculine curse that growled out of the shadows, right before he felt the gentle hands of someone else kneeling next to him. Timber’s soft scent drifted around him. He tensed. She shouldn’t be here. It was too dangerous. Too...

  “Shhh...” she whispered, her fingers stroking the length of his muzzle as his consciousness slipped away, pain and exhaustion finally winning.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Brandt sat in the ambulance while an EMT poked and prodded him. “I’m fine,” he muttered, not for the first time. The young man grinned up at him.

  “So you’ve said. You’ve lost a lot of blood, sir. You should go to the hospital.”

  Like hell he should. Brandt craned his head to look out the back of the ambulance. Several STE vehicles were parked on the front lawn. He spotted Tate sending a pair of Hounds into the house and waited for the other man to look his way before calling him over.

  “But you won’t, will you?” the EMT demanded, but Brandt ignored him.

  “Did you find Wolfe?”

  Tate’s shoulders sagged. “No. The son of a bitch ran right at us. Both Shay and I got a shot off. I saw him take a hit, but he never stopped running. He’d shifted by the time he hit the stairs and rammed right past us. If he saw Timber, he didn’t even hesitate.”

  “Why the hell was she there?”

  Tate turned away, his shoulders tight. Brandt could feel the indecision rolling off of him. The guilt, frustration. “Fuck, boss. I can’t decide right now if her reasons were as sound in hindsight as they were before I went in.” Tate shoved fingers through his hair, then threw his hands up, before looking back at Brandt. “Are you okay? You took one hell of a beating.”

  “He’s lost a lot of blood,” the EMT said, but Brandt was already pushing to his feet.

  His legs wobbled, but held. Bonus. He might actually manage to walk out of this damn truck on his own. Gripping the side of the door, he stepped down, ignoring the jolt of pain that shot through his side as his boot reached for the ground. Tate caught his other arm and helped him.

  “I’m fine,” Brandt said.

  Tate snorted. “Yeah. So fine you’re going to take the day off.”

  “You called me ‘boss’ a second ago.”

  “Old habits die hard.”

  Brandt looked up to glare at the Hound, but then he spotted Timber marching in his direction, her hands fisted at her side. “You should be in that truck. You should be going to the hospital.”

  Without thinking Brandt reached out and caught her by the back of her neck and pulled her closer. “You never should have been in that house.” He dragged her the rest of the way to him and pressed his lips to hers. A brief, searing kiss that reminded him that she okay. And he was, too. She was standing right here. Alive. He broke the kiss and leaned back. “You shouldn’t have been there,” Brandt repeated, voice soft.

  Timber leaned into him slightly. The anger in her face eased into relief. She’d been scared. He could see it. Feel it in the small tremor running down her back. He massaged the back of her neck while she clutched his shirt, twisting the fabric gently. “I couldn’t just sit in the car. I couldn’t, okay?”

  She rested her forehead against his, and Brandt watched as her eyes drifted closed in relief. This, holding her like this, standing here and now, it wasn’t professional, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about being professional at the moment.

  “We need to talk, Brandt,” Timber whispered softly. “Alone.”

  Brandt pulled away, but then tucked her head into the crook of his neck. He could see Shay talking with Nathan on the edge of the property. Tate still stood nearby, but there was sympathy in the Hound’s face as he watched Brandt. Once again, Wolfe had gotten away.

  “I have a car ready to take you home,” Tate whispered.

  Timber lifted her head. “I’m going with you, and don’t argue. I’ve already cleared it with everyone. I still have Shay’s gun, you’ll have yours, and Tate will have Hounds watching your place. I’m going with you.” Her hands tightened in his shirt as if she expected him to refuse.

  Instead, Brandt slipped an arm around her waist and nodded. “Good.”

  Her relief was palpable. She leaned against him while they followed Tate to the car, but it was only after a few steps that he realized Timber was helping him walk, not simply cuddling. He had no idea what to say, so he simply let her.

  Sometimes this woman’s strength blew him away. She’d seen Wolfe today, he knew she had, and yet she was the one holding him up. She was the one who was strong.

  And damn if he didn’t love her even more for it.

  Part of him still wanted to argue. Getting used to things like love took time, lots of time. But there wasn’t another word out there for what he felt for Timber. “You’re incredible,” he whispered while she helped him into the SUV, then hauled herself up next to him.

  When he could tell she’d just realized what he said, Brandt tucked her head into the crook of his neck before she could say anything. There were words they needed to share, but with another Hound sitting in the driver’s seat, this wasn’t the time or place.

  “Take me home,” Brandt murmured to the driver before he leaned his head back
against the head rest and dozed.

  It wasn’t a long drive. Nor was the house itself anything special. A pale, grayish blue with white siding, the two-story house blended in with the neighborhood, but Timber still craned her neck to get a good look, as if the curiosity had been killing her. When the car pulled up in front, she hopped out first and Brandt followed more slowly, waving off her attempts to help him.

  He hurt like hell, but it wasn’t all that bad. Wolfe could have done a lot worse to him. Most of it had healed when he shifted, only a few wounds had been bad enough the little bit of silver in his system had stalled them from healing over. “Thanks,” he said to the other Hound, and shoved away from the car. He winced as he dug out his key from his back pocket and unlocked the door.

  He knew the STE vehicle parked out front wasn’t going anywhere, he knew Tate would be sending more, but inside they had at least the illusion of privacy. And it was where he felt comfortable enough to talk. He shoved open the door and let Timber inside.

  Timber paused just inside the living room, scanning everything. His plush couch ate up half the room, the big screen television on the far wall dominating another chunk, along with his DVD collection. She’d been subtle in her likes, even in her own house, but his home hid nothing. She bit her lip as she turned and took it all in.

  Light filtered in through the curtains, but Brandt flicked on the living room light as well to brighten up the place. Timber ran her hands over a row of DVDs and he watched as one corner of her mouth kicked up.

  “What?”

  Her head tilted and the way she looked up at him, her eyes soft, her face glowing, it hit straight in the gut, knocking the wind right out of him.

  “I just like getting to know you a little better.”

  She tucked a few strands of her hair aside and Brandt blinked. Golden brown strands drifted over her shoulder when she tucked them behind her ear. “You changed your hair.”

  He sounded as stunned as he felt. He hadn’t even noticed.

  “Yeah.” She maintained a calm expression, but Brandt caught the sharp inhale. The way she took a deep breath to steady herself. The change still scared her.

  “It looks good.” He stepped closer, and she tipped her head up so she could keep looking into his eyes. Her hair framed her face as it always did, but the brown warmed her skin in a way the purple had not.

  It matched her eyes, too.

  “No,” he corrected softly. “You look beautiful.”

  Red flooded her cheeks, and she rested her hands on his chest, running her fingers up over his shoulders. Her eyes drifted shut for a second before she looked back up at him. “Thank you. I’m still not sure if it’s going to work, but thank you.”

  He knew what she meant. He’d seen her coming straight out of a nightmare before. She was nothing but an open nerve and flayed, raw panic. Brandt cupped her face and tilted her head up. “I don’t think you’d have made the change if you weren’t ready.”

  “Yeah?”

  He smiled. “Yeah.”

  Her hands tightened, and she pulled herself closer. His lips brushed against hers, hers curving into a soft smile before she pulled away. “Good.”

  ***

  Every time she looked in a mirror, it took a moment for Timber to recognize herself, but seeing her reflection in Brandt’s eyes? Well, she’d never looked so...right. One of his hands slid to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair, and she relaxed. He made her feel safe. Protected. Cherished.

  And she wanted a chance to finish what they’d begun the other night.

  More than that, she wanted a chance to see this through.

  Everything inside her was a tangled mess. He deserved so much better than that, but she knew she wasn’t walking away, and she wasn’t about to let him, either. Tears pricked her eyes, and she turned away slightly, but Brandt’s arms wrapped around her, holding her right there. And she didn’t fight him. Instead, she tucked her nose under his chin and inhaled.

  And just like that, all the emotions she’d kept inside, all the words they hadn’t said, suddenly it all became real. If she didn’t speak her piece, they’d always be there as the things she should have shared. Should have tried to express. She traced her fingertips over the edge of his shoulder.

  She could hear the pounding rush of her heart in her chest. Brandt’s hand smoothed over the small of her back. “Timber?”

  “You saw the pictures.”

  He stiffened for a moment. A rough breath, then he relaxed. “I did.”

  She stood for a moment, just leaning into him, breathing him in. She didn’t even realize was crying until Brandt pulled away enough to wipe away the tears on her cheeks.

  “Hell,” he whispered, his lips touching her cheeks, kissing away new tears. “You shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have had to come so close to him yesterday. I’m—”

  Timber shook her head. “I had to be there.” And when she saw the protest written all over his face, she laid her hand along his cheek, felt the stubble under her palm. “I survived him once, Brandt. I knew I could do it again. He wasn’t going to give you that chance.”

  He sank down onto his couch then, pulling her with him. His hands trembled while he held her. She rested her forehead on his jaw. “I knew I could do it again, because I knew you’d find me. Knew you wouldn’t stop looking for him. For me.”

  The last two words tore open her heart. Her chest had felt hollow, empty, before Brandt. He was all she had. All she’d let in, in so damn long. He hadn’t given her time to wall herself away from him. When Brandt had walked into her life, from the moment he’d lured the past out of her, he’d built a place in her heart that she hadn’t been able to—wouldn’t have wanted to—defend against.

  “You’re right.” A finger brushed her temple, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear again. It trailed over her cheek, wiping away a tear, before it danced over her lips. “But even more, I don’t want you back in his hands again, Timber. Ever.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” she said with a sad smile. But she would for him, and she didn’t have to say it again. He knew. She knew. That was enough. “I think... No. I’m pretty damn sure.” She forced herself to look at him, because as scared as she was, saying it wasn’t something she could hide from. “I love you. It’s way too early, and I’m messed up in a bunch of ways, but, yeah.”

  A soft laugh punctuated his sweet smile. “Do you know you are the strongest woman I have ever met? I don’t think I’ve ever been more surprised by anyone. More in awe.” He cupped her chin. “More in love. You scare the hell out of me, and at the same time I know it’s because I can’t imagine not having a chance with you.”

  He kissed her then, really kissed her. It was gentle, but Brandt didn’t leave anything out. Everything he felt was written in the way his lips moved on hers, the way his tongue stroked hers, exploring, tasting. He took his time, and Timber kissed him back. She let him have her heart in that kiss, let him have her.

  And for the first time in her life, she was absolutely sure that she would be more than enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Brandt groaned when Timber deepened their kiss, pleasure and heat flooding him while her fingers wove into his hair, holding him to her. She lit him up like no one else had. It wasn’t just physical, either. With a single kiss she managed to lay bare every nerve inside him, kindling him with a heat and need that burned straight through every cell.

  Then one hand tugged at his shirt, pulling it up. He wanted this. Wanted her. But he didn’t want her here in his living room. Not if he had a choice. Brandt nipped at her lips, then pulled away, hating the insecurity he saw creep in her eyes.

  Last time they’d gotten this close he’d seen her fear that the scars Wolfe had left behind would make him turn away. It was past time to put an end to those fears once and for all. It shocked the hell out of him, but there was nothing about Timber that he didn’t love with every fiber of his being. A person shouldn’t ma
tter so much to him, so fast, but Timber did.

  Then again, if her past said anything about her, it was that she defied all the odds.

  “Come with me,” he said and tugged at her hand. He led her up the stairs and around the banister, into the first room on the left. Nudging open the door with a foot, he pulled Timber in after him, only to press her back against the wall for another kiss.

  He’d never get enough of kissing her.

  His hands pressed against the wall on either side of her, his lips claiming hers, always gentle but possessive nonetheless. This time when her hands fumbled for his shirt, Brandt led her to the bed. He broke the kiss long enough to peel her shirt off over her head before he laid her back against the sheets, skimming his lips over the white lace of her bra.

  He felt her reach behind her, arching up, and watched while she undid the clasp. Awe swelled through him. Evening light still drifted in through the window, and yet she hid nothing from him, lifting the bit of cloth away, leaving her chest bare. Brandt laid a kiss over the jagged white scar and then another against the dark, puckered nipple of her other breast. He ran his hands down her ribcage, across the smooth expanse of her belly, all the while following along with his mouth, kissing and tasting and nuzzling the delicate skin.

  She lifted her hips when he paused at the waistband of her jeans, making it easy for him to strip them off her. He didn’t dawdle. He wanted to see her, all of her, spread out beneath him. Then he could take his time. Licking and exploring every inch of her.

  “You, too,” Timber said, and Brandt looked up to see her watching him, her gaze tracking every move of his hands.