Chapter Seven
Hot water poured over Gwynn’s head, sliding down her skin and easing her aches from the day before. She lathered up her hair again, and the smell of oranges permeated the steam. A secret smile crept over her face as she skimmed soapy hands over her body and gloated.
Sex had never been this good, ever. Aaron was the kind of lover she’d never allowed herself to dream about. The smooth, muscled, animal way he moved. The way he pleasured her before he took what he wanted. None of the geeky guys she’d dated had come close to his physicality—or his consideration. He was dark, sexy, and mysterious. She didn’t know anything about him. And she didn’t care.
She stepped out of the shower and slathered on some lotion she’d dug up from under the sink. Her smile grew. He could have taken what she’d offered, but he’d asked. And she’d wanted him, she still wanted him. Her hand drifted down and stroked her belly. Down lower still, between her legs. Her satisfied smile stretched her face. She’d just showered and dried, and yet she was wet.
She pulled on another clean dress of a sweatshirt and headed out into the main room. Her soggy clothes were slung over every empty chair, drying by the heat of the fire. She’d checked, and about the only thing dry were her panties, and she wasn’t sure she even needed those. A delicious shiver ran from her hair to her toes.
Nope, definitely no panties.
Normally she’d be afraid a man like Aaron would turn out like her dad and let her down. But Aaron had shown her he was capable of shocking tenderness. She trusted him.
She began to shake.
Suddenly weak, she sank down onto the couch. She’d had this feeling before, scared and excited at the same time. Like when you walked out on the edge of a roof and looked forty stories down and your stomach flipped, but you kept looking anyway. She’d had it as a teen with her first boyfriend. That first-time love had felt like this—until he’d moved on and her heart had been crushed.
Her fingers dug into the couch cushions, the feeling of walking on a precipice tingling her palms and the soles of her feet. This wasn’t love, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t possibly be in love with someone she didn’t know and had just met. Could she?
The outer door slammed and she jumped.
“Gwynn?”
Aaron came in, bringing the cold with him and stamping snow off of his boots. The sight of him had her heart hammering. In the short time he’d been outside, her world had flipped inside out. She’d gone from thinking this was just a one-time thing, to understanding this stranger might mean more to her than anyone she’d ever known.
She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “What’s it like out there?” she managed to ask.
“Another front is coming through.” He hung his jacket on the hook by the door. “I didn’t get any reception closer to the road. Will someone be worried about you? Should I try to hike farther?”
He was almost too good to be true—caring, nice...and don’t forget sexy as hell. “That’s nice of you. No, my roommates won’t even notice if I don’t call.”
“Is there someone else?” His alert eyes seemed extra intent and a wisp of suspicion curled through her like smoke.
Suddenly, Gwynn didn’t want to give him too many personal details. The sour curdle in her gut said she’d trusted too much, too fast. She clamped down on the hysterical giggle threatening to erupt out of her throat. Here she was in the bizarre position of instinctively trusting him and yet wanting to make sure he knew someone would miss her at some point.
He changed the subject before she could say anything. “I’m sorry I don’t have anything else for you to wear.
“It’s okay.” She thought she sounded normal, despite the confusion tearing through her. “My stuff’s almost dry. I can hang out in this. If you don’t mind?”
“I don’t mind. There’s something about you wearing my shirt that turns me on.” His smoldering eyes and mischievous smile eased her suspicion.
She didn’t know him, but he hadn’t given her any reasons to doubt him and every reason to trust. Was she really falling in love? Doubtful. And normal, everyday Gwynn would have taken that as an excuse to back out now. But she was the new risk-taking Gwynn.
“What’s it like out there?”
“We can try to shovel out to the main road, but we got a lot of snow last night and I think it’s getting ready to snow again.” He pulled off his boots.
“How far is it?”
“Too far. When I get some reception I can call a friend for a plow, but I say we wait.” He’d finished shucking off his outer layers and moved in close. “I can think of ways we can spend the day.” His smile deepened.
“Me, too.” Freedom surged through her, shushing her suspicious gut. “I need to work on Monday, but I’m free ‘til then.”
She wanted this. She might never let herself get involved with anyone like him again. She deserved one weekend of not being cautious. Not being afraid. The worst had already happened. No one knew she was here. Her job would wait until Monday. Tomorrow was soon enough to deal with her dad. Today she could hide out and have secret sex with her mystery lover. And if it turned out she really was in love and he was a heart-breaker, well then, she’d cherish her one risky weekend.
“Cool.” He squatted to work on the fire and his muscular thighs bulged. Hot flames licked up the dry logs like the hot lust licking inside Gwynn.
“Hungry?”
He shot a look at her over his shoulder and she swallowed down the urge to reach out and stroke along that muscle. Okay, she wasn’t quite ready to take all the risks.
“Absolutely.”
They made breakfast together in the small kitchen. Every accidental bump and touch sent quivers of anticipation spiraling through her. And by the time they sat down to a feast of eggs, bacon, and bread smeared with delicious fresh strawberry jam from Wolf’s Peak Jammery, Gwynn wasn’t sure she wanted to eat after all.
“You ready to talk about it?” He paused between bites. “Tell me why you were alone on the side of the road?”
She avoided his eyes. “I’d kind of hoped not to.”
“Your choice.” He poured her another cup of coffee and she gratefully hid behind the rim. “But if you change your mind, I’m a good listener.”
A glimmer of hope lit inside her. She’d fallen fast, maybe he could too. Maybe she should really take a risk, show him a little of what and who she was, and not just use him for comfort and sex.
The words started slow. Then they poured out in a cascade of pent-up anger—anger at her dad, for pretending to want to get to know her after all these years. And anger at herself, for being so stupid.
Aaron had finished eating long before she stopped talking. He was right, he was a good listener. But now she was nervous, wondering what he thought of her. Was this too much? Was she wrong? Had she screwed up the careful balance of their weird, short relationship?
She played with the remaining food on her plate, not as hungry as she’d thought. “So, what do you think? Will those guys come after me, or am I just losing my mind?”
His gray eyes held some strong emotion. Was it pity? Or empathy?
“I think you’ve been very brave.” He got up and began shifting dishes from the table to the sink.
“But what should I do now? Ignore it all and hope Herb does the right thing? Call the police?”
“I don’t know.” He suddenly left the dishes and went back to the door and put his boots back on.
Something about the way he avoided her gaze had her alarms up. “Where are you going?”
“Back out to check the reception.”
“I’ll come with you.” She started to get up, but his words held her back.
“It’s pretty snowy out there and you don’t have the right clothes. Stay here. Stay warm.”
“As good as that sounds, I’m getting a little stir crazy. I’ll warm up just fine when we get back.”
As Aaron laced up his boots, his eyes slid away from hers. �
��You don’t have any good shoes, and that front is coming in fast. Tell you what, if the phone works I’ll come back and we’ll get you suited up.” He leaned in and his hands framed her face in a sudden, possessive grip. He gave her lips a hard, smacking kiss that cut off her denial. Then the door closed in a solid thump.
Maybe she’d lived too long with her lying father not to be leery. Maybe she just couldn’t trust a good-looking man who’d stolen her heart. Maybe it was the way Aaron’s usually direct gaze had slid away from hers that placed the suspicion on her spine.
It didn’t matter. She had to follow him. Fast.
Gwynn raced to the closet. He was right, she needed warmer clothes. It felt wrong to go through his stuff, but she gritted her teeth, opened the door, and rummaged through the weird assortment of old, abandoned belongings. Old jackets and mismatched mittens. A pair of broken suspenders, and a pair of huge mismatched galoshes. None of it looked like Aaron’s other stuff. His backpack and boots weren’t new, but they were good quality. This stuff looked like someone’s family had abandoned it here years ago. There were kid’s mittens and skates, and an old lady hat with roses crocheted all over it.
She breathed through her mouth and put on a smelly oilskin jacket and a plaid cap that fell over her face. The too-large, mismatched rubber boots were better than nothing, and went over the red wool socks.
Every instinct she had said she had to hurry.
Outside, it had gotten dark. Heavy clouds had started to build up behind the nearest peak, and the way the wind had picked up. City girl that she was, even she could tell the snow was almost here.
Within seconds, cold had seeped through the thin rubber boots and her feet grew numb as she followed the path Aaron had tramped through the deep snow. This wasn’t the way they’d arrived the day before, she could see that one started to the left. This was a long, narrow driveway, slightly sloped and curving through the trees. After five minutes, she still couldn’t see the road. Finally, at the end of a line of trees she spotted a shed. She couldn’t see Aaron, but she heard his raised voice.
He must have gotten reception. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or disappointed. If he’d reached the police then all of this would be over. Gwynn moved closer and the wind blew his words to her. She froze dead still.
“No.” Aaron’s voice was deep with frustration. “I said I’d keep her here for the week. Then you need to figure out something about her dad. Hell, Leon, it’s kidnapping!”
Her breath cut out.
Aaron. This sexy, good-looking man, a man she’d started to believe was safe and steady despite his aura of danger, a man she’d imagined she was falling in love with—Aaron was actually one of the bad guys.
Breath whooshed back into her stunned lungs.
She eased step-by-step back through the snow, keeping her unsteady feet in the large, spread-out tracks Aaron had left. He couldn’t know she’d been here, or that she’d heard his conversation. Or that she knew his secret.
She didn’t have time to cry or even be angry. She needed a plan. Her lover had turned out to be a user, just like her dad. Someday she’d grow out of being stupid and trusting, but today she had to pay the price.
A week, he planned to keep her here for a week. And then what? Herb didn’t have any money. If he had, he would have paid his debts in the first place.
By the time she got to the cabin, she’d made a decision. She moved fast. Darting quick glances out the window, she stuffed Aaron’s pack with anything she could find. Food. Water. Some matches. She shoved a wool blanket in the top of the stuffed pack. Flashlight. She filled his water bottle. Knife.
She turned on the shower and pulled the locked door closed from the outside. It wouldn’t fool him for long, but any time she could add would help. He had to have finished his conversation by now. He would be back any minute.
On the deck of the porch she panicked. She couldn’t head down the nearly flat path to the road. He’d be there. Her only chance lay in taking the steep trail they’d come up the night before and heading back to the other road. Someone else would help her then. That imaginary family in the station wagon would be there. They had to be. She locked her mind away from the dark alternatives.
For a brief second she considered staying. She could confront Aaron and he’d tell her she was wrong, that she’d heard wrong. He’d kiss her and stroke her, and they’d make love. He would fix everything.
Pain flooded her to the tips of her numb toes.
She wasn’t a little girl anymore. It had taken her years, but she’d finally learned her lesson. Her father had taught her well. When a man showed his true colors, you needed to believe them the first time—or else they’d take your heart and grind it into paste.
Gwynn squared her shoulders and brushed her tears away. She shouldered the heavy pack. Time to go. Closing the door behind her, she stepped off the porch, grabbed a fallen branch and backed her way to the trees, brushing out her path as she went, heading for the path they’d come up the day before. It was slow going but as she went, big fat flakes of snow began to fall. Good, snow would cover her tracks.
Once she got out of sight of the cabin and well into the trees, she dropped the branch. She was still too close. Close enough that she could hear the stomp of his boots on the porch. She froze, until she heard the slam of the door. Then she turned and ran.
She slipped and slid to the first Y in the trail. She’d been too exhausted when they’d come up the trail to pay any attention to the route, and none of this looked familiar. She had no idea which way led to the road, but there was no time to think. She had to pick a path and stick to it. The big flakes of snow had turned small and powdery and were filling up the footsteps behind her fast. Both paths looked the same, but the left one seemed to incline down a tiny bit more. Left. She’d take the left-hand path and head downhill and pray she was right.
She found another branch and brushed out her tracks at the Y, sending up a quick desperate hope that it would be enough to deceive him.
Aaron would follow her. She knew by the way her numb face still held the imprint of his last possessive kiss. She knew it in the depths of her dying heart.
Chapter Eight
Aaron entered the cabin and hung up his coat and stripped off his boots, shaking his head at the sound of water running. Another shower? Good. It would give him more time to process.
Gwynn’s loser of a father showed no signs of paying his debt, and Leon had run out of patience. Now Leon was making noises about Aaron bringing Gwynn down to him. If that happened, she would be out of Aaron’s control and he’d have no way to protect her.
Adrenaline, and the desire to tear Mike Leon to shreds, pumped in his veins.
Kill the man who threatened Gwynn. Claim her. Make her his.
He paced the small floor of the cabin trying to think through the instincts that told him to hunt Leon down and kill the man who threatened his woman.
Hunger to see Gwynn, smell Gwynn, touch Gwynn, pulsed through him. No one would hurt her. No one could have her. No one but him.
No! Not his woman. He hadn’t given her the Bite, and for both their sakes, he wouldn’t. He shook his head as he paced, trying to shake loose of his wolf’s need. Come on, Aaron. Stay focused on the problem.
Nick had said the land deal was done. As soon as he filed the deed, Aaron would own the what he’d been working so hard for. He’d be able to show the pack and they’d reinstate him. At least he hoped they’d reinstate him, but disobeying the council might be an issue.
And because of her role in it all, he owed Gwynn a blood debt.
It wasn’t his fault she’d been traded by her father, but he’d profited all the same. Now he was stuck. If he didn’t turn over Gwynn, Mike Leon would find them both and make them pay. If he drove down to Denver and turned over Gwynn like Leon wanted, he’d never get over it. She’d be dead.
Or worse.
He needed to run. He needed to hunt. He needed her.
He gripp
ed the top of the kitchen counter, his knuckles turning white with strain as his blood pulsed with the nearly unbearable urge to burst into the bathroom and see Gwynn. He fought it down, forced his brain to work.
The shower was still on. Think, Aaron, think! She had to be out of hot water by now, the tiny water heater was the smallest on the market. She would be naked, the water sluicing over her body, filling her shadows with light. He could go in there and lick the water off her breasts, her belly, her clit. Pleasure her until she screamed his name.
He throbbed. She would be his. He would bite her. Take her. Claim her.
He clamped his hands down harder on the counter, hanging on as if his life depended on it. Or maybe his sanity? Sweat beaded on his face, a single drip made its way down, landing on his straining forearm. What the hell? Something was wrong.
This wasn’t normal, this was something else, something close to lunacy. This was the way he would respond to a potential mate, a fellow shifter. Pack.
And he was sliding into the Fever.
One slip and he would bite her. One slip and he would infect her with the virus that had risen inside him in the course of the night. One slip and Gwynn would be a wolf shifter’s mate for life.
And she didn’t even know she was in danger.
Hanging on to the lifeline of the counter, he shivered with heat. Calm down. Snow, think of rolling in snow. Icy cold on my skin. Years of learning how to manage the shift worked, and the thoughts of snow calmed him down. When he was reasonable, he knew.
She had to have at least one gene—Gwynn must be a recessive wolf. They were rare. It was prohibited to spread the magic of the change beyond the pack, but he knew it was possible. It took two genes and the trigger of the virus to become a full wolf shifter. But there were two different genes, and other combinations were possible due to how the two genes combined with the virus. Dreamwalkers had an inner wolf only—no shifting. Spelltalkers had the ability talk to the ancestors and access the akashic records, and God only knew what else.
Fated Mate: Paranormal Werewolf Romance (Fated Mountain Wolf Pack Book 1) Page 7