Hunter's Heart ap-4

by J. D. Tyler

  “Because nobody will.” He sighed and braced his elbows on his knees. “You asked me where you are. Right now you’re a guest of the Institute of Parapsychology, housed in a secret location in the Shoshone National Forest.”

  “The Institute of Parapsychology,” she repeated, turning over the term in her mind. Gradually, it dawned on her. “The study of the paranormal.”

  “Yes. As well as the effects of that world on all of us who live here at the compound.”

  She digested this. “And just who are you?”

  “My team is called Alpha Pack. We each have different Psy abilities and we get called all over the world to handle paranormal predators like the rogue vampires you witnessed us battling.”

  “They really were vampires?” she whispered.

  His voice was gentle, almost apologetic. “Those fangs weren’t fake, honey. Neither was the silver knife that one bastard buried in my side.”

  “Why silver? Wait— How are you even out of your hospital bed two days after being stabbed and having your throat ripped out?” She sat upright, heart beating wildly in her chest. “I saw it! And now there’s nothing but some pink scars on your neck!”

  “You’re right, you did see me torn and stabbed. But I heal fast. All of my kind does.”

  “What kind is that?” She was almost afraid to know.

  “The type that doesn’t react well to silver, so that much of the legends is true.” He gave her a sad smile. “You might as well know . . . we’re wolf shifters, Daria.”

  * * *

  Ben Cantrell fell to his knees in the undergrowth, sick and exhausted.

  What had happened? Where had he been this time?

  His confused mind finally registered the blood. His hands were coated in the vile stuff. His arms, chest, some splattered on his legs. Reaching up, he felt his face, and recoiled in horror. Blood, on his mouth.

  “Oh, no. No.”

  Not again. Please, not again.

  But to his lawyer’s mind, the evidence was irrefutable. He laughed at that, a mad, hysterical sound. Because he’d never work as an attorney again. Would never be human. His life had been stolen from him and he would never get it back.

  Unless he found the ones who could help. He’d set out searching for them, but now struggled to recall who he was supposed to find. But he’d remember. He would. And they would help him.

  They had to. Or soon, Benjamin Cantrell would be lost forever.

  Four

  Ryon’s guts clenched as he studied Daria’s reaction.

  The woman paled under her tan, her lips parting in shock. Then she dropped her gaze to the sheets. “I can’t buy that.”

  “I know it’s a lot to take in, but it’s true. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

  She looked up. “I believe you think you’re telling the truth, but—”

  “You can perform astral projection,” he pointed out. “You know about Psy gifts, and you saw the vampires with your own eyes.”

  “There have been documented case studies of people who have psychic abilities and can do or see all sorts of things they shouldn’t be able to,” she said. “Some can predict the future, read an object to see the past, move items with their minds, find missing people. You name it. But you’re asking me to believe you can change forms? I’m sorry, Ryon. You’re delusional.”

  “I expected you to react like that,” he said, trying to hide his disappointment. “I can’t blame you. But I can prove it.”

  “You can change into a wolf, here and now.” Her tone was flat.

  “Yes.”

  She flicked her good hand at him. “Okay, so do it.”

  “I don’t think so. Not yet.”

  Some of the hardness left her expression, and her tone became kind. “Have you sought help for this fantasy? There are some really good doctors who can treat that sort of thing.”

  He stood. “I don’t need a doctor. Not for being delusional, anyway. I’m going to let you rest because you have a lot to take in, and this is enough for the time being.”

  “Will you be back?”

  She sounded hopeful, and that eased some of his anxiety—and his wolf’s. But not all. The beast paced inside him, not happy at being doubted. It was much too close to rejection.

  “Yeah.” Leaning over, he kissed her cheek, then straightened. “I’ll be back soon, no worries. Sleep.”

  “All right, I’ll try.” She didn’t look convinced, though.

  Giving her a reassuring smile, he turned and walked out while he still had the strength to leave. He’d pushed far enough, and her scientist’s mind needed precious time to absorb the truth of his words. She wasn’t ready to see him change into his wolf, but she would be. As a biologist, and his mate, though she didn’t know that part yet, she wouldn’t be able to help her curiosity. She would continue to be drawn to him.

  He hoped.

  Leaving the infirmary, he headed for Nick’s office. The door was cracked when he got there, and he heard his commander inside, talking. Guessing the door wouldn’t be open if the boss didn’t want to be disturbed, he knocked lightly and waited.

  “Come in.”

  Pushing inside, he saw Nick sitting behind his desk, Sheriff Deveraux reclining in a chair across from him. Deveraux was about Nick’s age, and Ryon supposed women would find him good-looking in a rugged, outdoorsy way. Ryon stuck his hand out to the visitor.

  “Sheriff,” he said politely. “I’ve seen you a couple of times, but we’ve never been introduced. I’m Ryon Hunter.”

  The other man grasped it briefly, his gaze sharp but not unkind. “You’re part of the Alpha Pack that Nick has been telling me about?”

  Ryon looked at his boss, who gave a slight nod. The sheriff had been unwittingly pulled into the Sluaghs’ attack on a local family several weeks ago, and rudely made aware that the paranormal really existed. Since then, the commander had obviously been easing the lawman into their world, and so it was okay to talk freely in front of him.

  “Yes, I am. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I just came from visiting Daria, and I thought Nick would like to hear what she said about yesterday’s events. You too, Sheriff, since you’re here.”

  They listened intently as he described the great screeching noise Daria heard, and how it frightened her into breaking camp. If they’d expected Ryon to tell them that the culprit who chased her from the scene of the body and pushed her over the ledge was a Sluagh, or some previously unheard-of creature, they were wrong.

  “It was a white wolf?” Nick repeated, going still. “She’s certain?”

  Ryon rolled his eyes. “Of course she’s sure. She’s got a broken arm, not brain damage. On top of that, she says the wolf is female.”

  The commander’s face paled, and he stared at the top of his desk. “I haven’t had any visions at all about any of this, just a sense of wrongness. Danger. I’m not sure what any of it means, and I’m hesitant to guess.”

  “But you do have one,” Deveraux pressed.

  Nick sighed. “I don’t think the wolf is responsible for the killing, but we won’t know for sure until Kira and Melina finish testing that DNA sample of the victim they liberated from the crime scene.”

  “I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” The sheriff scowled.

  “No offense, Jesse, but I have a hunch your medical examiner is going to come up with some very strange findings on that body and isn’t going to know what to make of them. Which is for the best. But my lab people will know what the results indicate, or at least have a good head start.”

  “You might be right, but I don’t like it,” the man muttered. “You’ll keep me in the loop.”

  “You bet.”

  Mollified somewhat, the sheriff stood to leave. “Nothing to do for now but wait and see. Search and Rescue is still looking for the couple that vanished—or the husband at least. I’m betting the mutilated woman is the wife.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Deveraux shook hands with both of them
again, and then saw himself out. Ryon waited until the lawman was gone before he spoke.

  “You sure we can trust him?”

  “Absolutely,” Nick said. His mouth curved into a wry smile. “He’s so old-school, all this paranormal stuff is about to burst a blood vessel in his brain, but he’s a good man. He’s on our side, for all the bitching he does.”

  “Good to know.”

  “How’s Daria?”

  “Unsettled,” he admitted. “Just because she has a Psy gift that she acknowledges doesn’t mean she’s ready to accept that we’re shifters or that other creatures exist. She wanted me to change and prove I’m a wolf, but I could tell she wasn’t really ready for that. I don’t want her to push me away.”

  “She’s had enough to deal with,” Nick agreed. “You did the right thing giving her some time.”

  “Thanks.”

  “But don’t take too long to tell her the rest. It’s a delicate balance between giving her time to adjust and coming across as though you were hiding the truth.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Hanging his head, he studied his shoes. He was so damned tired, his body still healing, and yet he hadn’t been able to rest for worrying about her.

  “You’re about to fall over. Go crash for a while, or you’re not going to be any good to the team or your mate.”

  “I think I’ll do that.”

  He’d try, anyway. Back in his quarters, he tossed on the bed and fantasized about a striking, raven-haired woman who might not want a thing to do with him. He thought only of kissing those plump lips, caressing toned, soft, honey brown skin. His lids grew heavy and yearnings followed him into his dreams where she tormented him endlessly, leading him to the edge, so in danger of falling. Only to pull back and leave him hurt, confused.

  God, her lips were soft. His tongue slipped inside and he explored her mouth, groaning at her sweet taste. His fingers dipped into the swell between her breasts and stroked the creamy mounds. Sought lower, skimming down her flat stomach . . . until she caught his hand.

  “Ryon.”

  “Baby, please. I need you.”

  “I can’t.” She shook her head.

  “Why not?” Pulling back, he studied her expression. He saw fear, confusion. Not the ideal emotions to inspire in his mate.

  “This is too soon,” she said softly. “I don’t know how I feel about this. About whether there’s an us.”

  His wolf howled inside and a bubble of panic lodged in his throat. “Of course there is. Don’t you feel something growing between us?” he asked hoarsely. “I already care about you, Daria.”

  She shook her head. “I cared about someone else not too long ago, and he broke my heart. I thought what he and I had was real, but it wasn’t. How can I trust again?”

  “Let me show you.” He was begging shamelessly, and he couldn’t help himself. “Let me prove how good it can be with the right man.”

  “I don’t think I can. I’m sorry.” She gave him the saddest smile.

  Then turned and walked away.

  “Daria, no! Don’t leave me!”

  Ryon bolted upright in bed, heart hammering in his chest. Not a vision—that wasn’t his gift. Just a dream turned nightmare, he realized. A horrible, stupid nightmare with no basis in reality. God, he wanted her so much.

  As proof, his unsatisfied cock was hard and aching, pointing at the ceiling. He needed relief or he was going to die of blue balls. Unzipping his jeans, he pushed them down far enough to free his tackle, and cupped a hand, squeezing the tight orbs. It felt so good he did it again, manipulating the sac and teasing the perineum. One finger trailed down to his hole, giving it a naughty rimming and stimulating his arousal to near pain.

  Taking himself in hand, he gripped the hot, hard flesh and began to stroke. Up and down, hissing in pleasure at the little shocks of sensation that skittered from his nerve endings to heat his groin. The feeling was awesome, but it was nothing compared to what happened when he imagined Daria crouched between his thighs, jet-black hair spilling over his lap as she sucked him down her throat.

  “Oh, shit.”

  That tripped his trigger, and his hips bucked as he worked his rod with abandon and just let himself go. In seconds that familiar buzz started at the base of his spine, signaling orgasm. His release exploded like a shot from a gun, creamy white ropes of cum squirting to land on his stomach and chest. On and on he spurted until his balls had emptied and he was jerking with aftershocks, wishing it hadn’t ended so fast.

  “Damn,” he rasped. “Time for a shower.”

  Now that the high had ended, he felt empty. Sort of lost. With a sigh, he rose and padded to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it get hot. As he stepped into the steamy spray, he groaned and tried to shut the nightmare out of his mind.

  But now that it was stuck in his brain, he couldn’t dislodge it.

  Getting to know Daria, much less winning her over, might be his biggest challenge yet.

  * * *

  On the second day of her stay, Daria awoke feeling much better. So much, in fact, she was suspicious of exactly why she wasn’t hurting beyond a twinge or two. And why in the hell the scratches on her body weren’t more than pink, healing lines that looked a few weeks old instead of two days.

  She stared at one of the marks on her left arm in growing dread. What kind of medicine speeded healing like that? Nothing she’d ever heard of.

  It was then that she noticed two faint puncture marks inside her wrist.

  Again, the memory of voices, the men shouting as they worked to save her life, flooded in. This time came the recollection of a slight, pinching pain on her wrist. Had she imagined that? If so, why were there marks on her skin?

  Restless, she glanced at the chair beside the bed, wondering where Ryon had gone. Her new protector had been by her side off and on since his team had brought her in, and at first she was relieved whenever he would duck out. Then the stretches of time he was gone seemed interminably long, when she was awake to realize it. Now, she had to admit to herself that she missed him.

  They had talked a little, though he avoided the subject of the Pack’s specific missions and the paranormal world they fought in. Instead, he made small talk about Wyoming, his friends in particular, their strengths and idiosyncrasies. They were an odd group, but close as brothers, and his love for them shone with every word. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Ryon stepped through the door carrying a plastic grocery sack and approached with a tentative smile on his sexy face. “How are you feeling?”

  Her heart lightened just to see him, though she kept her enthusiasm in check. “Almost human again.”

  He looked away, his expression sheepish, and she wondered what on earth was wrong with him. But then the odd moment passed and he brightened again.

  “Well enough to get out of here and have a bite to eat in the cafeteria with me? The food there is awesome.”

  “They’re springing me so soon?” she asked in surprise.

  “If you promise to take it easy for the next few days. Nick took the liberty of having one of the guests’ quarters made ready for you, if you’ll do us the honor of staying while you recuperate.”

  “That’s nice of him.” It was. She also found it faintly disturbing, being taken in just like that by a compound of men she didn’t know and who didn’t know her, but she knew her nerves were on edge. Anyone’s would be after what she’d been through.

  “Great,” he said, taking her words as acceptance. He looked vastly relieved, more than he should at the news that a stranger was staying. “I put your clothes and camping gear in your room already. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Of course not. Thank you.” She gestured to the sack. “What’s in there?”

  “Oh, these are some of your clothes. Didn’t think you’d want to leave here with your butt hanging out of that gown. Not that I’d mind.”

  His statement and the impertinent grin made her laugh. “You must be a handful.”

  “I can be.
Want to find out?”

  He was so cute, she couldn’t possibly take offense. “Not before you feed me. I was promised a meal, right?”

  “You bet.” Handing her the sack, he backed away. “I’ll get a wheelchair while you get dressed.”

  “A wheelchair? I don’t think I’ll need one of those.”

  “Trust me, you do. After what you went through it’s a miracle you’re breathing.”

  “And why am I breathing?” she asked pointedly, gesturing to the pink scars on her arm. “Why am I practically healed?”

  “All in good time. Baby steps, huh?”

  Frustrated, she watched him walk out and shut the door behind him. Clearly, he was reluctant to get into many more details with her, but given the way she’d reacted to his delusion of being a wolf shifter, she wasn’t really surprised.

  But was it a fantasy on his part? She should be dead, not getting ready to leave, even in a wheelchair. Her bizarre recovery aside, she’d soon get the straight story on Ryon. She was sure his teammates would clue her in that he was suffering from some sort of mental illness and they humored him. That was the only explanation, and it made her sad.

  Getting dressed took her longer than she had imagined, and she was just slipping on the borrowed tennis shoes Ryon had brought when he walked through the door pushing the wheelchair. But he wasn’t alone.

  “Daria, I’d like you to meet my commander, Nick Westfall.”

  Ryon’s boss was an imposing man with short, feathery dark hair with the slightest bit of silver at the temples, and steely blue eyes. He carried himself with his back straight, his projected demeanor warning don’t mess with me even though he had yet to open his mouth. When he did speak, however, his tone was kind.

  “Miss Bradford.”

  “Daria, please.”

  He nodded. “I’m Nick. I try to keep my team in line, and sometimes I actually succeed. We’re glad to have you here, even though it’s not under the best of circumstances.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate your taking me in like this. I could go to a hotel if it would be less trouble—”