I nodded, tossing my purse on the entryway table as I passed by it, phone and keys and all, and made my way to the bathroom. I didn’t care how early it was. I just knew that the longer I stayed awake, the more likely it was that I’d make an even bigger ass out of myself by the end of the night.
After brushing my teeth and washing up, I changed into pajamas and slipped beneath the covers of my bed. As I lay there with the feel of his lips still burning like a firebrand on mine, trying to figure out how I could make things right with Matthew, I finally sank into a deep, dreamless slumber.
Thankfully, I was drunk already. Otherwise, there was no way I would have been able to get any rest.
Chapter Thirteen – Matthew
I paced my living room restlessly, her lavender and vanilla scent still filling my nose. Thankfully, I lived alone, so I didn’t have anyone I needed to explain my agitation to. If this had been a year ago, Frank would have been breathing down my neck trying to figure out what had happened to get me so worked up.
And that was something I definitely did not want to explain. Not to anyone.
I’d nearly punched a hole in my steering wheel as I was driving away from Rebecca’s house. And now, as I went into the kitchen, the self-loathing continued to linger. How could I have been so stupid to push her away like that? I knew it had been the right decision for the agency at the time, and for her since she’d been clearly intoxicated when she kissed me, but why did I have to be such an ass in the way I did it? Especially when I cared for her so much, in such a short time?
I clawed my phone from my pocket and pulled up my contact list. I scrolled through the names until I found hers and selected it. Rebecca Stokes. I grimaced as a memory of her eyes, alight with anger and hurt, flashed in my mind. God, this was my fault. I hadn’t thought I’d been sending signals to her, but maybe I had been.
I shook my head at the way I was acting, at this whole tough guy charade I was desperately trying to pull off.
And the whole time, what did I really want to do? Nothing less than hop back in my pickup and drive straight over there, stop signs and traffic lights be damned, and kick down her front door. I wanted her. My wolf wanted her. Everything about her, from the way she smiled, to the way she laughed, to the way her hands felt in mine, to how her body felt as my arms wrapped around her.
But, no, I couldn’t call her. Not with her pissed off at me like that, and not while she was drunk. “Fucking hell,” I mumbled, tossing the phone aside as I collapsed down on the leather couch.
Just what in the hell was my problem anyway? I planted my elbows on my thighs and cradled my head with both hands. I couldn’t get her out of my thoughts. Hadn’t been able to think of anything else other than the case, or how to keep her safe while I worked it.
I leaned back on the couch, rubbing the heels of my palms across my eyes. God, what was happening to me?
“Okay,” I said to myself. “You need to eat something. That’s first.”
I didn’t move. I saw no point in it. Even if I did eat, what was that going to solve? I’d still be just as miserable as before, with this woman that I cared for as pissed at me as an angry, hissing alley cat.
“Come on,” I mumbled. “Food.” I finally dragged myself up from the couch and trudged into the kitchen. I pulled a steak from the refrigerator and turned on my oven, and settled in for a long, lonely night.
I was in bed before midnight, but it seemed like the only thing my mattress and pillow were good for was tossing and turning on them.
Try as hard as I might, I still couldn’t get Rebecca out of my head. I turned over on my side, flopping an extra pillow down on top of my head.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her soft lips on mine, the feel of her forearms as they’d slid past my neck.
I flipped to the other side and readjusted the pillow.
The way her body had pressed against mine as she’d stretched up to kiss me, how her mouth had tasted of alcohol, but also of a wonderful sweetness I couldn’t place.
And, God, that smell of hers, and how it had stayed in the pickup the whole way home, overpowering even the smell of alcohol and stale cigarettes from the Elk.
Another toss. Another pillow.
The hurt look in her eyes as I’d pulled away, the way she’d basically told me to go screw myself.
What did I have to do to get her out my mind?
Dammit. This wasn’t working. This wasn’t working at fucking all. No, I could wrestle with the memory of Rebecca all night or I could try and drive out of some of this nervous energy, some of this restlessness.
And, with the way my wolf was calling to me, I knew my body was telling me that I needed to shift and run through the cool woods and mountains surrounding Enchanted Rock.
I sat up in bed and threw my covers back. I normally only slept in my briefs, and tonight was no exception. I padded out of the bedroom on bare feet and headed to the front door. I lived in a two-bedroom condo on the outskirts of town, one that was far enough away to not really attract much attention. And, lucky for me, my closest neighbors pretty much used their space as a vacation home. On nights like this, where I couldn’t silence the howling in my blood, I could slip out into the night with no one the wiser, and run to my heart’s content.
As long as, of course, I stayed pretty much out of view.
I walked out onto the front landing and hooked my thumbs in my briefs, and stripped them down over my legs. I began the shift and was fully transformed within minutes, the smells of the world suddenly doing a full-court press on my nose.
I took off at a run, my four paws padding on the concrete of my stairs, as my powerful legs launched my pony-sized body across the grass and into the woods. I sprinted hard, weaving in and out of the pines and spruce trees near my home, kicking up fallen needles and dusty, dry topsoil. The run-off from the mountain snow had been good this year, but not good enough. We were in for a busy brush fire season.
I loped along, my tongue lolling from my mouth as I climbed atop a moss-covered boulder. I perched at the top, my snout straight up in the air like a car antenna, allowing me to pick up all the scents and fragrances of my adopted mountain home.
The Rock. I loved this place more than anywhere I’d ever lived. I didn’t even mind the cold, which wasn’t much worse than where I’d grown up. Even the work I loved. Finding the sources of fires, figuring out what and who started them. Every job was a new puzzle, a new set of clues for me to sniff out and put together.
And, yeah, the pay wasn’t too shabby either.
There, like a strip of yellow and red through the night sky, I smelled a small herd of deer moving upwind, across the edge of the valley. They were moving away from me, I could tell, in a straight line to the north. Probably up into the mountains.
I wagged my tail, considering whether it would be worth a run up there. Sure, I might be able to track them down, but I had a long day tomorrow and an early morning to contend with. Of course, I could just go for a jog out that way and see what I could find. From the smell of things, the distance was only a few miles. I could be there in no time. Who said I had to hunt tonight, anyways?
But then the wind shifted, bringing me another smell, another stronger, more pressing smell that seemed to drill into my sinuses and bore into my brain.
Lavender and vanilla.
Damn, it was beautiful, too. If smells had a feeling, a tactile sensation, this one would be silk. Softest of the soft, most luxurious of luxuries. A soft purplish violet, the same color as its namesake fragrance.
My head turned that way before I even knew what was happening, and my hind legs were launching me forward like I was on a springboard, sending me sailing through the air with a growl and a yip. I streaked off through the night, my instincts taking over and guiding me as I tracked down that smell, my human thoughts pushed to the rear of my brain like an unwanted pile of useless clutter shoved into a closet when visitors come over.
I raced through the valley, threadi
ng my way through the trucks of the conifer trees, my nose in the air as I tracked the scent. In the forefront of my mind, I knew exactly who it was, and what it meant. But I couldn’t bring myself to believe it, even as my instincts drove me to broke the cardinal rule of the pack: I entered civilization. I entered Enchanted Rock.
Small two- and three-bedroom houses stretched up both sides of the small road. Smells of dogs, cats, possum, and, most importantly, people seemed to crowd out nature. Still, I followed that violet stream of color through the night air.
In no time flat, I’d found the source of the bewitching smell.
A small, two-bedroom house I recognized from earlier in the night. One still without its porch light on.
Rebecca.
She’d cracked a couple windows before drifting off to sleep, and a breeze must have blown through her bedroom, carrying her scent out into the wider world. And, of course, to my keen nose.
But, shit, here I was. In the middle of a residential neighborhood! Despite what time it was, Peter would have my ass on a platter if he found out my roaming took me into town.
There on the edge of her yard, I dropped my body low into the grass, trying to keep a low profile. This way, if anyone saw me they’d just think I was a coyote. Paws crossed, right?
A powerful, warm tingling sensation overtook my body, traveling from my ears and snout all the way down to my tail as I inhaled her scent more deeply and truly began to experience it. In my human form, she smelled amazing, like the perfect distillation of beauty and wonderment. In my wolf form, though? She was like heaven refined, angel dust tossed out onto the wind for only me to find.
I stayed low as I climbed to my feet and skulked forward into the grass of her yard, knowing full well the whole time that I needed to leave. I needed to get away from here as fast as possible, away from the dangers of being seen.
Who was I kidding, though?
I crept closer, a low whining building in my chest as I heard her tossing and turning in her bed, a low, sweet-sounding snore coming from her nose.
Vaguely, I wondered if she snored all the time or only when she’d been drinking. I wolfish grin cracked my mouth as I skulked to a stop just below her bedroom window.
She began to talk in her sleep. Muffled words, at first, that were unintelligible even to my keen ears. Achoo? Matches? Agnew?
It dawned on me, then, what she was saying. “Matthew…Matthew.”
My name. She was whispering my name. I panted louder, and a little growl escaped my chest. My name had never sounded sweeter coming from any other mouth.
I realized then what I’d suspected the moment my instincts took over, and my wolf-mind began to take me off into town. I’d been on my way to find my mate. Rebecca.
The full weight hit me like a freight train or a fully loaded Greyhound bus. I’d found my mate, finally, after all these years of searching and waiting. She’d been right there under my nose, pardon the pun, the whole time.
And that’s when I heard the shotgun rack behind me.
Chapter Fourteen – Rebecca
Flames licked high to the ceiling, orange and yellow tongues flickering like the insides of a furnace as they engulfed my bedroom. I tried to scream, but no words came out. On the floor, I saw Uncle Zeke passed out, his head thrown back, his mouth opened wide.
I rolled off my bed and dropped to the floor, like they taught the kids at school. Keep your head down, stay close to the floor where there’s oxygen and the air is still clear enough to see through. I crawled forward, screaming my uncle’s name above the roaring of the flames as I moved towards him over the carpet. God, it was hot in here, hot like I’d been roasting myself next to a giant bonfire all night.
“Zeke! Uncle Zeke!” I tried to scream as I shook my uncle, still unconscious on the floor. My voice came out like a dusty croak, my throat parched, my lungs breathless as I began to cough violently. I looked back at the bedroom windows behind me—I could get escape through those. I only had to awaken Uncle Zeke, to somehow get him alive and moving.
A great crack of lumber as one of the support beams in the ceiling came crashing down, just like in a Hollywood movie, blocking my exit from my bedroom windows.
I grabbed Uncle Zeke and tried to tug him across the floor to the bedroom door.
Before I’d moved him even a few feet, I heard another crack of lumber, a sound like someone splitting wood.
I glanced up.
An ax! A fireman’s ax, coming right through the door, its gleaming metal head chopping through the wood like a knife through butter.
“Help!” I tried to scream, a puff of smoke and dust the only thing that escaped my throat. No air, no wind. I coughed again, trying to wave it away.
“Rebecca!” screamed a voice. More door-chopping followed, the shining red firefighter’s ax flashing in the yellowish flames. “Rebecca!”
I knew that voice. Matthew!
He kicked the door in with a heavy boot, came trundling in in his heavy fireman’s coat, the heavy fire-retardant cloth hanging down to his knees. He tossed the ax aside and reached down, sweeping me into his arms like I was nothing more than a sack of feathers.
I’d never felt so safe in all my life as when his strong arms wrapped themselves around me in their protective embrace and scooped me up to his chest.
“Oh, Matthew! You saved me!”
His dark eyes tracked down my face and glanced down at my lips. “Not yet, I haven’t.”
I closed my eyes as he began to lean in, lips slightly parted. “Oh, Matthew,” I sighed.
I awoke with a start to the sound of thunder or a car backfiring. Still groggy and feeling hungover, I looked around my bedroom, struggling with the comforter and blankets that had swaddled me in their not-so-manly embrace. I kicked against the quilt as I heard another blast just outside my bedroom window. Jesus Christ! Was that a gun? Who was hunting inside the neighborhood?
“That’s it, you sumbitch!” yelled Gladys, one of my neighbors, an old lady from across the street. “You fucking run, you hear!”
I sucked in a sharp breath, my head throbbing. What the hell was she shooting at? Or who was she shooting at? I rolled as I tried to get out of the blankets, my feet still kicking as I went over the edge.
I heard another shotgun blast as I face-planted on the carpet, sending my headache flaring again with a ripple of sharp pain through my cranium. I really, really shouldn’t have drank so much last night. “You stay away!”
I groped at my face, but didn’t feel any blood. Frantically, I struggled to get up, to get to the window and look outside and find out just what the hell was going on. “Gladys!” I yelled as I clamored across the carpet, just like in my dream a few moments before. “Gladys! What’s wrong? What are you shooting at?”
Gladys stood out on the edge of my front yard, her smoking shotgun still raised and pressed to her shoulder as her diaphanous nightgown fluttered around her chubby knees in the cool breeze. Her long, brown hair with streaks of gray flowed out behind her as she looked down the gun’s sights with one eye.
“Gone now,” Gladys yelled back in reply as she lowered her shotgun and brought it to a rest over her shoulder like a Continental soldier. “Big ol’ fucking wolf, Rebecca, just sitting there in your lawn.”
“No way,” I said through the open window, shaking my head gingerly so as not to aggravate my headache, “wolves haven’t been around here in decades. That’s crazy!”
“Sure as shit was one,” she said. “Big as your goddamned house, too. Biggest one I’ve ever seen, and I watch Nat-Geo.”
“Well, thanks,” I sleepily slurred, “I guess?”
“Hell yeah, you should say thanks,” she replied, swinging the shotgun down from her shoulder so it hung loosely in her grip. “Big ol’ bastard was looking right in your window when I came up on him.”
My window? I blinked a few times, shocked and not sure what to say.
“Could practically hear him licking his chops.” Then she broke into
a grin. “You ain’t got a niece on her way to drop off some baked goods or nothing, do you?”
I laughed despite the situation. “Not quite. A student, maybe, but no niece. Well, thanks for scaring him off for me, Gladys. Guess I owe you one.”
She nodded sagely then padded off across the street, not even flinching as her bare feet crunched the gravel of the old asphalt road.
I went back to my bed and sat down on the edge, looking out my two front windows. Another cool breeze came blowing in, down from the mountains and across my face. It felt heavenly on my hungover face, a literal breath of fresh air.
But, if Gladys was right, I’d just had a giant timber wolf staring up at my windows, licking its chops. That thought was, honestly, a little unsettling. Not that I disliked wolves or anything. I didn’t feel one way or another about them, since I’d never really encountered one.
Sure, I thought they were beautiful creatures, but I still didn’t particularly like the idea of them watching me while I slept. I got up and went over to the double-hung windows, pulled them down, and latched them into place. I went into the bathroom and inspected my face.
My nose was a little red, but not swollen, from the earlier fall. My eyes, though, were bloodshot and ringed in dark circles. No, I definitely shouldn’t have drank last night. Damn, Derrick. I knew it wasn’t his fault I’d had so much to drink—it wasn’t like he’d held me down and poured whiskey down my throat—but he had been egging me on. But, like I always tell my kids when they tried to place the blame on the peer pressure, ultimately, the responsibility falls on your shoulders. The power is inside you, not anyone else.
Admonishing myself some more, I found some ibuprofen and washed down a couple pills with some water. Hopefully that would take care of the headache before morning. And maybe this time, I’d be able to get some actual sleep without my neighbors opening up an impromptu gun range outside my bedroom window.
I headed back to bed and tucked myself back in, not even thinking about the next morning.
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