Spirit of the Wolf

by Vonna Harper

  “They don’t want you here.” He’d nodded at the now-growling pack. “They don’t accept you.”

  They have no choice.

  That’s when Matt, who couldn’t remember when he’d last run from anything, had jumped into his truck and peeled away, tearing the dirt track as he did.

  By the time the ranch house came into view, he’d calmed enough that he’d half convinced himself he’d imagined that Ghost Wolf had spoken. He’d tell Addie he’d changed his mind about fence mending and had returned for a horse so hopefully he could find the missing cattle. She wouldn’t question his decision, which meant he wouldn’t have to tell her the truth—a truth he wasn’t sure he could voice.

  Another truck was coming toward him on the narrow private road leading to the ranch. Lost in thoughts that kept crashing into each other, at first he paid scant attention to the vehicle. Then everything fell together.

  Cat.

  What had she been doing here, and was she leaving to avoid him?

  Of course she was.

  Fine with him. Other than an apology he’d have to rip out of his gut, he didn’t have anything to say to her and couldn’t comprehend that she’d want to speak to him. Why, then, was he pulling over to the side and stepping on the brakes?

  She came alongside, started to slide past him, then stopped. “I didn’t think I’d see you,” she said out her open window.

  “Otherwise you wouldn’t have come, right?”

  “Right.”

  The sun slammed against her features, so he could barely make them out—either that or he was incapable of concentrating.

  “You were talking to Addie about me.”

  “Yes. What are you doing back so soon?”

  Don’t say a damn word. “I saw them. Him.”

  Cat’s head had been back a bit as if in defiance. With his admission, her body snapped to attention and then sagged. “What happened?”

  Having expected her to ask who or what he was talking about, he hesitated. The top she was wearing today had a scoop neckline, modest by all accounts, or it would have been if his truck wasn’t higher than hers and he couldn’t catch glimpses of the breasts he no longer had any right to.

  “Nothing,” he lied. “I’m thinking the pack scared off my cows.”

  “You didn’t see a carcass?”

  “Or buzzards.”

  Maybe that satisfied her because she nodded. He’d give anything to read her expression, or would he? “You said him. Ghost Wolf you mean.”

  Strange. They could barely talk to each other anymore and yet they’d effortlessly agreed on what to call the massive predator.

  “Yeah.”

  “Damn. Matt, did you feel as if you were in danger?”

  “No.” He wasn’t sure about that.

  Cat stroked the steering wheel. “Look,” she said, “I have to go.”

  Go. “When will I see you again?”

  “I don’t know. After . . . what happened, I need my space.”

  And I don’t trust myself around you.

  Unable to think of anything to say, he faced forward. Only then did he realize he’d placed his truck in park—because he’d hoped she’d want to talk to him after all? Turned out he was wrong.

  Just as he’d been wrong to think Ghost Wolf had tried to communicate with him.

  Can’t we start over, Cat? Go back to what we had. The rutting, our bodies winding together until I can’t tell where I leave off and you start. Losing myself in your pussy, trusting my cock to you.

  Cat would never understand the man. Of course, she’d never understand the whole thing with the wolves either. Maybe the two were connected.

  What did she mean, maybe?

  At least Matt’s eyes hadn’t looked as dark and wild today as they had earlier, but that might have changed the moment he touched her.

  Same with her, she acknowledged as gently rolling Coyote Ranch grassland stretched out around her. Despite her resolution not to think carnal thoughts, Matt’s voice had set off small fireworks inside her. If his voice was capable of knocking her off her emotional pedestal, she could only guess how she’d react to his knuckles running over her cheek and down the side of her neck.

  What did she mean, guess? She knew. There was no denying that she kept tightening her buttocks muscles and pressing her thighs together even with her foot hovering over the gas pedal as she rolled along.

  Matt had seen both a wolf pack and Ghost Wolf earlier today. That’s what she needed to think about.

  Damn it, she should have encouraged him to talk about it. After all, who else did he have to share the experience with?

  Maybe she should turn around. Her foot drifted from gas to brake. Even as she told herself she needed to think about this some more before she did anything, she stopped the vehicle. Leaning her forearms on the steering wheel, she rested her forehead on the backs of her hands.

  Matt had gone through hell while growing up. He’d probably been too young to understand what was happening to his father as Kaga fell apart, but even worse, he hadn’t had anyone to turn to. Just as Kaga hadn’t received any mental help, neither had his son.

  The son who might have seen his father take his life.

  Damn it, what was wrong with her? This wasn’t about her; only Matt’s emotional well-being mattered.

  That and the wolves.

  Groaning, she lifted her head. It didn’t matter that Matt was nowhere around. She still needed to talk to him, and if her voice drifted out the open window and found its way to his ears, so be it.

  “Matt, this is like being in a storm, a furious whiteout. We’re both caught in it, you more than me. Things we can’t comprehend have happened. You seeing Ghost Wolf today might not be the end of it. Hell, I know it isn’t.” Shaken, she sucked in hot air that did nothing to calm her.

  “Maybe you’re asking yourself if what happened to your father is happening to you. You’re scared; you have to be. Could be you’re thinking that this . . . this thing with the wolves is part of the insanity that—No, you aren’t insane!”

  Wasn’t he? an insistent voice asked, but she shook it off. Matt coming at her like some bull elk during rut wasn’t the same as Kaga going on weird spirit searches and killing himself.

  She had to calm down. Otherwise, she’d never be able to decide what she needed to do. One breath at a time, emptying her mind so hopefully logic and a plan of action could take form. She’d study the peaceful surroundings and think of the cycle of life here that began with calving season. Matt had helped countless four-legged babies into the world and breathed life into some of them. He was a good man, loving and sexy.

  Sexy.

  Sensation rippled between her shoulder blades and raced down her spine. Damn it, didn’t she have any defense against Matt’s impact on her? Wishing she had some cold water to throw in her face, she bemoaned the lack of AC in her truck. At least there’d be more of a breeze once she started moving again.

  Cat reached for the gearshift but didn’t complete the movement. There’d been nothing in the grassland, not even a bird from what she’d been able to tell. Yet there he was, standing close enough that she could see into his dark eyes, his large head held high, his back straight, and his stance ready for action.

  Get the hell away from me, she wanted to command Ghost Wolf, but her throat refused to form the words. God, but he was beautiful! Frightening and mesmerizing at the same time. Logic said there was no way he could have gotten from where Matt had seen him to here in that amount of time, but maybe logic had nothing to do with it.

  She could handle studying Ghost Wolf from a distance of maybe a hundred feet by refusing to ponder how he’d gotten so close without her seeing him approach. Then he started walking toward her, and she screamed.

  He looked as if he were stalking her with his head lowered and nose twitching in reaction to the smell of her fear. There was a slow-motion quality to his steps. Maybe this was his way of telling her he had all the time in the world to do
what he wanted to her.

  Lifting his head, he howled.

  Another scream tore at Cat’s throat. Gripping the shifter with numb fingers, she yanked down. Mindless to the possibility of damage to the truck’s suspension system, she punched the gas. Holding on to the steering wheel with one hand, she tried to fish her cell phone out of her front pocket. Her unfeeling fingers closed around it only to lose control. The phone clattered to the passenger’s side floor.

  No calling Matt. Nothing but getting away.

  To Matt’s relief, Addie didn’t say much about the time she’d spent with Cat, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to respond. Citing concern for the missing herd, he’d saddled a horse and taken off but not before grabbing extra bullets and his binoculars. He’d debated having one of his hands join him, but this was something he had to do himself. The danger was his alone.

  Three hours later, he was herding the cows and calves to a pasture much closer to the ranch house. He’d found the herd about a mile from where he’d seen the wolves, their agitation telling him that they, too, had spotted the predators. Four wolves could easily take down a calf, so why hadn’t they?

  Cat!

  Alarmed, he pulled on the reins and studied his surroundings. What had that been, a soundless warning from her? Maybe a cry for help?

  Yeah, right. She’d been on his mind all day, that’s all.

  Disturbed by his inability to put their relationship into perspective, he turned his attention back to keeping the small herd going. He needed an intervention or exorcism, maybe incantations designed to cast out evil spirits or a cleansing ceremony handled by a shaman.

  Shaman.

  Rolling his shoulders, Matt first tried to stop his thoughts from diving into the past and then gave in to what he knew had to be done. Either he acknowledged his father or he’d spend the rest of the day fighting memories. He’d deal with the memories and then park them back into a corner of his mind until they insisted on coming out again, as they always did.

  During the year before his father had taken his life, he’d repeatedly clung to Matt. Sometimes he’d beg Matt to rip the voices out of his head. Other times he’d insist that as soon as he completed the steps necessary for becoming a shaman, he’d drive the voices out himself. All he needed was for Matt to accompany him on his spirit searches. They’d fast and pray together until the spirits revealed themselves.

  It was crazy talk; that’s what Matt had thought back then. Yes, only his father loved him, and he was grateful for that love. He needed it. But strange and scary things had started happening to Kaga. He stopped acting like a father.

  “Is that what you want?” Matt blurted. His horse’s ears swung back toward him. “For me to forgive you for the way your insanity impacted me? If I do, if I acknowledge that you had no control over what happened, will you leave me alone?”

  Of course his father didn’t answer; he never did. Instead the dead man nibbled at pieces of Matt’s mind.

  A sudden thought had Matt sitting high in the saddle. Shit, what if that explained his inability to keep his hands off Cat? Was his damnable mentally ill old man trying to take his son down the same path?

  Cat!

  The back-to-back barrel-racing training sessions had gone well. Listening to the two seventeen-year-olds giggle, Cat wondered if she’d ever been that silly. Hopefully not. Probably not because her parents would have never allowed it. Bottom line, she’d enjoyed the girls’ enthusiasm and felt good about what they’d accomplished today.

  Now the two were gone, she’d fed her horses, and it was time for her to get something to eat. Instead of going inside, however, Cat continued to watch the roan mare pick through hay. Betsy was pregnant but because she wasn’t due to give birth until spring, she hadn’t lost her girlish figure. Of course, the term girlish was relative. No one would ever call Betsy lean and mean.

  Burying herself in work today had been good for her, Cat acknowledged. For hours she’d focused on what paid the bills. Okay, so Ghost Wolf continued his residence in a part of her mind, but at least she’d stopped feeling overwhelmed by recent experiences. She also had a plan, thanks to a call to Helaku, who’d said of course he’d look at her photographs whenever she brought them to him.

  And if Helaku didn’t sound surprised by either the call or her request . . . chalk that up to her overactive imagination.

  The roan blew out a breath, which sent hay scattering. Cat tried to swallow. How long had it been since she’d had something to drink? She tried to put her mind to what she could fix for dinner only to have her thoughts slide to Matt.

  She should have called and let him know he wasn’t the only one who’d seen Ghost Wolf today. Once she had, she’d apologize for cutting and running when their paths crossed on the road to his ranch. Somehow she’d explain that the things Addie had told her had knocked her off balance emotionally and she hadn’t been in any shape to talk to him.

  Except talking wasn’t what she was interested in.

  Raking her fingers down her braid, Cat went in search of enough air to, hopefully, counter need. Yes, fucking. Not talking. Two bodies threatening to combust and clothes being yanked off and hands grasping body parts.

  No matter how dangerous the act, she couldn’t stop herself from running her hand between her legs. Pressing her middle finger against her opening, she pretended it was Matt’s cock.

  Forget dinner. She’d stumble into her bedroom and masturbate, or maybe she’d rip off her clothes and sprawl on the recliner where Matt had used and abused her.

  Damn, she needed abuse!

  Flattening a hand over her flaming cheek, she opened her legs even more and added another finger to the rough massage. Could she make herself come like this? Climax out in front of Mother Nature and ancient Native American gods?

  Surprised by the thought, she forced her hand to still. Her fingers remained against her crotch, however, ready for action. She’d been raised by parents who hadn’t given religion the slightest priority and seldom went to church herself. As central Oregon had spun its web around her, she’d embraced Mother Nature. If she was going to believe in anything, it would be land, sky, and water, because without those things, this incredible place wouldn’t exist.

  If only she knew more about how and what Native Americans worshipped.

  At that, a mental lightbulb went on. She could start selfeducating herself by getting on the Internet. Armed with purpose—and distraction from sexual heat—she planted one boot ahead of the other. Before she could take another, however, a new sensation struck.

  No, not new. Just more than she could handle.

  Compartmentalize, yes, that’s what she’d do. Ghost Wolf had found her again. He stood on a nearby rise, completing a triangle with her and her house being the other two points. The horses paid no attention. The wolf pack wasn’t with him. He was glaring at her—no doubt about it, glaring. Hatred streamed from him and threatened to burn her.

  Logic, getting done what needed to be done. One step followed by another. Arms at her sides and hands lifted a little in case . . . in case what? She needed to fight Ghost Wolf? Lots of luck with that. Concentrate on getting the walking done. Head like an arrow for the front door. Give thanks because all it would take was a quick turn of the knob. Less than a minute and she’d be inside. Safe.

  Unless Ghost Wolf could walk through walls.

  No matter that she reached for self-control with every bit of strength she had in her, the possibility that he was a ghost unhinged her. Clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming—which might have shattered her—she broke into a run.

  So did Ghost Wolf.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she noted how perfectly every muscle worked with the others. Unlike dogs, whose back ends often tried to outrun their front legs, Ghost Wolf moved like flowing mercury, like a waterfall. Coming toward her. Overtaking her. If she wasn’t so afraid she couldn’t reach the house in time, she would have applauded his grace.

  Breat
hing like a freight train, Cat took the three steps leading to the porch in a desperate leap. Ghost Wolf’s breath seared the back of her neck and arms. Screeching, she grabbed the knob with both hands and twisted, bending back a nail as she did. She squeezed through the opening, ripping her arm on something, and whirled, slamming the door and leaning against it as she fumbled with the lock.

  Outside, Ghost Wolf breathed.

  She hadn’t bothered with a dead bolt; who locked their doors out here? If the beast threw himself against the door, would it give way?

  A massive wolf in her living room, claiming the space and backing her into a corner much as Matt had the last time he’d been here.

  Was something of Matt in the creature?

  To her surprise, she laughed. Then because she had nothing to do except listen to claws scraping on the porch floor, she pondered whether she was on to something or out of her mind. Nothing came together, no logical explanation, not even a supernatural one—not that she knew anything about the supernatural, which until the past few days she hadn’t believed in.

  Time for a course correction. She was no longer a cynic. She could no longer scoff at ghost hunters and psychics. When it came time to write her memoir, this chapter would be a doozy.

  One not a soul would believe.

  Except for Matt.

  The claw sounds faded and then ended, leaving her in silence. After checking to see if she’d indeed engaged the flimsy locking device, she sprinted across the room and pushed the recliner in front of the door—like that was going to do any good.

  She had to go to the window to see if Ghost Wolf was still around, but what if her presence prompted him to leap at the glass? Shaken by the thought of blood staining his fur, she gripped her upper arms and hugged herself. Maybe the beast didn’t bleed.

  “What are you?” she breathed. She wondered if he could hear her. “I don’t understand. That’s the hell of it—I don’t understand.”

  Don’t you?

  Closing a hand over her throat to stifle a shriek, Cat waited out the impossible. The question had to have come from her subconscious. No way could the beast out there have spoken to her.