Desert Wolf

by Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

  But a replay of what they had shared here wasn’t to be. Not yet. This one session had been dangerous enough. They both had caved to desire.

  Tomorrow, he thought, pressing the fair hair back from her face before kissing her forehead, her cheek, her mouth. In the middle of all this potential danger, we’ll see what you are and what will happen next.

  For now, their time together was up. These wonderfully private moments were over.

  Someone is heading this way, my beautiful Paxton, and that presence will demand my attention.

  Although the real world had been temporarily set aside in favor of touching the sublime, it now returned with a vengeance.

  There’s a monster to catch and a full moon on its way. There’s a pack to protect and a potential new member. That new member is you, little wolf.

  As Paxton’s lashes opened, Grant whispered out loud, “Welcome back to the Wild West, lover. Only the hardy can make it here, and I’m hoping you are one of them.”

  Chapter 15

  Ignoring the whispers and sounds flowing through her mind, Paxton found Grant Wade studying her when she opened her eyes.

  Speech was difficult with white-hot nerve endings zinging. Although she wasn’t a beginner when it came to sexual escapades, she had never experienced anything like what had just happened. She had never felt like this. Never been left panting.

  Was it merely the incredible sex or was it something else entirely? Because sex like that didn’t belong to this plane of existence.

  Grant was composed of waves of electricity, and the charge was ongoing. The explosive climax he had given her had been similar to detonating dynamite, and was taking its own sweet time to recede.

  He wasn’t relaxed or smiling, in spite of the release. Grant’s tenseness had returned with a speed she hadn’t anticipated, signaling clearly that their time together was over.

  Had sex been all Grant Wade wanted from her?

  Even so, it had been worth it.

  “You okay?” He asked her this as if he actually expected her to answer the question seriously.

  “Yeah,” she said, since he was waiting to hear her confirm that she was all right. “Fine.”

  She assumed Grant would get up, take his clothes and leave. If he thanked her, she would give him a good kick. She’d take a cold shower and try to wash off his scent, knowing she would have to put this little indiscretion behind her, like strangers often did after a one-night stand. Because the truly awkward part of all this had arrived.

  Grant nodded as if he, too, understood this.

  To ease any potential embarrassment either of them might be feeling Paxton said, “This doesn’t have to be strange. It happens all the time.”

  “All the time to you?” he asked, studying her.

  His face was close enough for her to feel his breath on her cheek. Her body continued to quake inside, craving more of everything Grant had to offer.

  Damned if she’d let him see that.

  “I mean random meetings between two people attracted to each other for whatever reason,” she clarified.

  Instead of responding to that statement, Grant turned his head to look at the door. His broad, bare shoulders rolled in agitation.

  Paxton followed his gaze, alerted by the kind of glance he’d settled on that door. “Is someone out there?”

  “Yes.”

  That explained one possible scenario for his sudden nervousness. She was a little bit relieved.

  “I didn’t hear the knock,” she said. Then again, that wasn’t really a surprise, since she hadn’t been able to pay attention to anything beyond the sensations of their exquisite coupling.

  Grant smiled warily. The expression told her he was holding something back. Was there a jealous woman outside, ready to burst in?

  Paxton reminded herself that she wasn’t part of his life and therefore didn’t need to know everything Grant did. But his wary expression bothered her.

  “I have to check on something,” he said, his gaze swinging back to the door. “And I don’t want my departure to seem to you like avoidance or insult.”

  “Thanks for telling me,” Paxton returned drily. “Now I won’t think that at all.”

  It was her turn to stare at the door. “Go,” she said, giving him permission to find some distance. “It’s all right. I’m all right. I’ll get dressed and…”

  Her remark was interrupted by a sound she clearly heard, coming from outside. She sat up quickly as Grant got to his feet. His demeanor had changed again. She noticed he had fisted his hands.

  In the moonlight streaming through the window, Grant’s picture-perfect face suddenly seemed more angular than chiseled, and much more defined. His expression had grown darker and resembled a scowl. He was seriously anxious about what might be out there, beyond the bunkhouse door. Paxton also figured he truly was loath to leave her like this, so quickly, because he didn’t rush over to the door.

  “Go,” she repeated firmly.

  Slipping off the table, she hastily gathered up her clothes.

  The knock that came soon after startled her, though Grant appeared to have been expecting it. Without giving a damn about being buck naked, he opened the door and spoke in a low tone to whoever stood there.

  “More trouble,” she heard the person outside warn.

  Grant threw her a worried glance before turning to pick up his jeans. Once he had donned his pants and boots, he came back to her.

  “You can’t stay here, Paxton.”

  “I’ll go to the house,” she said, monitoring his change in attitude. He seemed so much more formidable. Warier. More dangerous.

  His head shake was firm. “It’s too late for that now. The trespasser I mentioned is sniffing around, so I can’t let you out of my sight. Please get dressed. Sorry about the shower you might be anticipating. You’ll have to come along.”

  Pulling on her jeans, she said, “Where are we going?”

  “To Desperado.”

  Paxton stopped moving halfway through the act of getting her shirt over her head, thinking she might not have heard Grant right. After stuffing her arms into the sleeves, “Now?” was the only thing she could come up with to say.

  Thing was…

  Grant really didn’t quite look like himself. Half in and half out of the shadows, he seemed bigger, more muscular and somehow larger than life. Shadows hugged his bare chest, creating valleys of light and dark. His arms were corded with the same kind of tension that made his shoulders ripple.

  Was the lack of light making her think those things? Was she imagining things that weren’t there?

  His tension was contagious.

  Her hands shook.

  Then she noticed the mark on Grant’s left upper arm for the first time—a small silvery circle that could have been a recent tattoo.

  She stopped moving with her gaze riveted to that mark, and touched her own arm. She’d been born with a similar circle in the same spot.

  Coincidence?

  Tossing her hair back from her face, Paxton remembered that there was a hell of a lot she didn’t know about her old home and about Grant Wade. Actually, she knew next to nothing about either, and again felt afraid.

  She felt sick.

  Glancing from the open door to Grant, who stood bathed in moonlight and was visibly on edge, Paxton fought off a second wave of nausea. Reaching to the table for support, she closed her eyes, counted to ten and said, “It might be a good idea if you explained a few things first.”

  *

  “Grant?” Ben said from the doorway, showing respect for his alpha and friend by not mentioning Paxton, Grant’s nudity or what so obviously had gone on in the bunkhouse.

  Careful to keep a rein on his inner beast, Grant didn’t dare go to Paxton. His reaction to Ben’s warning had been swift, causing his wolf to slip its tether for a brief partial appearance.

  Had Paxton seen it?

  More trouble, Ben had said, which left no time for explanations, either the short
or the long versions, Paxton was asking for. The monster they’d been seeking had returned to the area, as he’d feared, and was closing in on the ranch.

  Damn persistent sucker…

  “Later,” he said to Paxton, relieved to hear the even tone of his voice when the rest of him was in flux. His skin undulated like the surface of a disturbed pond. Claws, fur and teeth had to be monitored. Now wasn’t the time to give Paxton the second fright of her life.

  “We’ll talk later, I promise,” he said to her.

  Paxton had backed into a corner with one hand gripping her upper arm. Her fingers covered her moon mark as if it was something foreign. She was unable to hide the fact that she had seen his mark without understanding what the similarity meant. To the human portion of her mind, none of this made sense. Of course, it made sense to every other Were on the planet.

  Only pure-blooded Weres bore moon marks and passed them on to their offspring. The fact that Paxton had one was proof, as Grant had thought, that Andrew Hall had to have been a werewolf. Not only that, Andrew’s lineage had to have been pure enough and strong enough to pass the wolf and the mark to his daughter. It also meant that both of Paxton’s parents had to have been Lycans.

  Christ. This was incredible news.

  Andrew’s daughter was a Lycan.

  And, as fate would have it, Grant would be the one to tell Paxton her mommy and daddy had been werewolves, and that Arizona was a magnet for Weres, both good and bad. Once she knew this, Paxton would have to rethink her entire existence and consider the possibility, as Grant had, that her father had sent her away for more reasons than just wanting to be rid of his family.

  Grant just wasn’t sure what those reasons would have been, since Desperado was a werewolf Mecca and Paxton would have been at home here, among others of her kind.

  The whole thing felt off, somehow, now that he thought about it. Still, would having more facts help Paxton come to terms with the long-term loss of her dad?

  What would she do when she found out what she was? Would she pass the test all Weres had to go through during their first transformation, not-so-lovingly called The Blackout for good reason?

  “There’s danger all around us tonight, and we have to head straight toward it,” he said to her, hating that she looked so pale. “I’m sorry to involve you. That wouldn’t have been my choice.”

  Paxton didn’t appear to be buying this. Stubbornness was often a she-wolf trait; he had learned that from his dealings with Shirleen.

  She said, “Someone found the bear?”

  Grant shook his head. He kept his hands behind his back in case his claws slipped through. Even now, his body wanted a rematch on that damn table.

  “I’m pretty sure there is no bear,” he said.

  In response to that statement, Paxton’s eyes blazed angrily. The hand covering her mark dropped to her side. “Then tell me what that thing out there is, and why you’re so concerned.”

  “No time to explain. We have to go,” Grant reiterated. “Now.”

  She pushed off the wall, a little steadier on her feet than she had been the minute before, and said smartly, “Okay. If you say so.”

  Damn it. Did everything have to be so difficult?

  Nevertheless, Paxton was dressed and standing. Ben was waiting for them outside. They’d take the truck to Desperado and see who turned up looking for a fight. Surrounded by his pack, Paxton would be safe. Grant would see to that.

  Paxton didn’t take the hand he offered her. The honeymoon was over as far as she was concerned, when it had been, well…it had been everything he’d ever hoped making love to a woman would be, even considering the time constraints. He sincerely hoped there would be a round two.

  Paxton preceded him from the bunkhouse looking disheveled. Her porcelain skin was a shade lighter than it had been. She had pulled her T-shirt on backward. Anyone looking at her right then would have been able to tell what they’d done in that outbuilding, and maybe even how good it had been.

  For the record, he wanted to tell her that it had been damn good.

  She walked without help, gaining strength from her anger. Yet he would have liked touching her. After being with her intimately, wanting more of her was expected.

  “Paxton, this is Ben,” he said when she faced his tall, dark-haired packmate.

  Ben nodded in acknowledgment of the introduction, then turned toward the house where Shirleen waited for them at the back fence. Ben spoke as if Paxton was one of them and in on what was taking place before Grant could urge caution.

  “He breached the fence less than a quarter of a mile to the south,” Ben explained.

  “A human trespasser?” Paxton asked, drawing a long look from Ben, who continued speaking without addressing her query.

  “Nothing about this guy is usual or explainable, Grant. He might be heading here. I can’t hear his chatter. Maybe you can?”

  “I’m not sure why he’d come to the ranch,” Shirleen said. “What’s in it for the bastard? There are no cattle or horses here for him to steal. Maybe he wants to chew on something else for a change?”

  From two feet away, Grant felt Paxton stiffen. However, it was too late to take back those remarks. Everyone here was angry that their lives had been disrupted.

  As they moved through the house to the front yard, Paxton remained quiet. Without a single request for fresh clothes or a bathroom break, she climbed into the truck. Ben and Shirleen slammed the front door and loaded themselves into the truck bed, taking up positions on opposite sides to keep watch as they drove the short distance to Desperado.

  In essence, Paxton was getting exactly what she wanted, give or take having a monster on the loose. They were going to Desperado, and she was about to have a very rude awakening as to the town’s purpose.

  “There is something out there, as I said earlier,” he finally explained. “Whatever it is has been killing cattle and causing an uproar with the ranchers. It’s dangerous, and so are those ranchers wielding rifles when they give chase.”

  She gave him a brief sideways glance.

  “There’s more to the old ghost town than meets the eye,” he went on. “It’s protected on all sides.”

  Paxton said, “Protected by what? Fences?”

  “Electric fences,” Grant replied, keeping the rest of the explanations about the town’s protections to himself. No use going there until he had to.

  “You believe Desperado is safer than the ranch?” was her next question.

  “More of us are gathering there, and there’s safety in numbers.”

  “Why not gather at the ranch?”

  “Desperado is the place we’ve designated as a meeting spot.”

  “These gathered people are your friends?”

  Grant nodded.

  “And you will go after this person or thing that has been bothering ranchers in the area?” Paxton asked.

  “Not this time. I don’t think we’ll have to.”

  “You assume the trespasser might come to you?”

  “That’s what I expect, and I could be wrong. I’m sorry you’re in the thick of things, Paxton. The timing sucks. I’m also sorry about the interruption back there in the bunkhouse. We needed more time to enjoy the company and figure things out.”

  “I’m pretty sure we covered everything,” she said.

  Grant took his focus from her when Ben tapped on the back window.

  “Someone else thinks they’ve seen our beast,” Ben said through the sliding window. “Listen.”

  Sure enough, the sound of gunfire was like an explosion of firecrackers in the distance. And maybe, Grant thought, Paxton was starting to believe him about the danger. She slid closer to him as she stared out at the night.

  Chapter 16

  The sounds Paxton heard in the distance had to be gunfire, making Grant’s explanation about ranchers going after trespassers seem real. But she couldn’t figure out why they were on their way to meet Grant’s friends at Desperado, and what made an old gh
ost town a better bet for a rendezvous than the ranch, when she would have thought the opposite.

  More secrets? These people were feeding her half-assed explanations that didn’t actually explain anything. What wasn’t Grant telling her?

  Images of that old abandoned town from her childhood flashed through her mind, though most of her memories were long gone with time. She remembered the electric fences surrounding the town that had been meant to keep out trespassers even back then.

  If given half a chance, determined tourists would have run off with shutters, floorboards and any other pieces of the place they could pry up, she recalled her father telling her. She supposed some things never changed, and that an off-limits ghost town was likely to be an even bigger target for that kind of thing.

  Still, if this was one lone trespasser Grant and his neighbors were after, a gathering of the clan seemed a little like overkill.

  Just as she remembered, the road leading to Desperado had no streetlights. This far out of the city, the roads were only partially paved. The streets of Desperado itself were dirt, as tourists would have expected from a relic of the Old West. What electricity there had been in the town itself when she was a kid had been minimal, for emergencies, and carefully hidden in a tribute to the full Western experience.

  She stared out of the truck’s closed window, expecting to see the town’s main gatepost any minute, no longer sure how to gauge the distance from the ranch to Desperado. It couldn’t be far. At six years old, she had ridden her pony over this same road.

  Night in the desert would have been beautiful if things hadn’t turned so serious. Moonlight and stars in the clear night sky lit parts of the scenery. Saguaro and other types of cactus cast long shadows over the white, sandy ground. In the distance, a long, low mountain range stretched dark and colorless in the night. Though Paxton had no idea what time it was, she figured it had to be very late. Temperatures had cooled considerably, but she hardly felt the chill with her metabolism revved up by adrenaline and tonight’s hot, sweaty sex.