things to do.
“I can find it,” she insisted.
“I’ll take you.” Get in the car.
She crossed her arms and she stood scowling. One of the first things he’d said to her, and it was an order. But then again, what did she expect?
It was only the memory of the group of men waiting for Ty that made her slide into the front seat and clamp down on her tongue. In two minutes, Ty had the truck parked in the central square. The men looked over expectantly, but Ty ignored them. He grabbed her bag before she could protest and pointed her toward a narrow path between two buildings. Ahead of them, thick shrubbery shaded a tiny adobe dwelling with a slanted roof and a stone chimney that clung to one wall like a determined vine. She took two quick steps over the creaky wooden porch, then stopped in front of the door, breathing in the hot spice of the chili peppers strung there.
The floorboards squeaked behind her as Ty came near. She could feel the heat of him. So close.
She turned instinctively and took him in, that mountain of a man. His hair looked just long enough for her fingers to skim through for a short ride. She imagined how close she’d have to be to do that. Close enough to feel the scrape of his stubble. To taste those lips. Close enough to nuzzle him until the edge had gone out of his taut body. Close enough to let their bodies brush, mesh, intertwine—
“It’s open.” His voice was gruff.
She forced herself to pull it together. God, her wolf was out of control today. The screen door gave a rusty squeal as she stepped inside and forced her attention there. The heavy beams overhead smelled of wood oil and time. The walls were white, the ceiling high. A painting of a rose hung over the bed, whispering of reckless possibility.
Ty set down her bag, and when their eyes locked as he straightened, the whisper became a roar. She got lost in his deep, dark gaze as the chiseled line of his jaw pulsed with unspoken words. She was frozen, yet burning up at the same time. The moment stretched to infinity as the air throbbed and hummed in her ears. Was her heart barely pulsing or was it thumping like a rabbit’s? There was some secret communication between them—a question asked and answered—though her mind couldn’t register what that might be. They were mere puppets, bystanders to some greater reckoning.
Then Ty’s eyes dropped to the floor and the earth stilled. Her mind took a moment to catch up, and by the time it did, the screen door had slammed. He was gone.
She slumped to the bed, her heart hammering, her ears vaguely registering the bang of the screen door. A bead of sweat dropped in slow motion from her brow. She’d survived a brush with a tornado and was still reeling, wondering how close it had come to whirling her away.
For the first time in a long while, she wanted to believe in the wolfpack myths. That there was love at first sight. That she would find her destined mate and the air would shimmer and rush. That her heat would reach out and intertwine with his and they’d slam together in a living storm of passion and never ever part.
But this man might as well have barbed wire coiled around his torso and a danger sign around his neck. Warning! Death by hundreds of thousands of volts. She wondered if Ty had rigged the defense system himself or some outside force had done it for him.
Her breathing slowly settled as her mind jerked on the reins. Maybe Ty had that effect on everyone. A powerful alpha could do that—melt everyone and everything in his path. Either you’d self-incinerate or he’d kill you the slow way: death by broken heart.
Best to avoid him. The man was bossy, busy, and seriously wounded. A man like that needed a lot of fixing—and hell, she was no mechanic.
And anyway, a myth was a myth. There was no such thing as a destined mate, not these days anyway. Shifters who found mates did it the clumsy human way: trial by error. Guessing, trying, compromising. And even that took
“I can find it,” she insisted.
“I’ll take you.” Get in the car.
She crossed her arms and she stood scowling. One of the first things he’d said to her, and it was an order. But then again, what did she expect?
It was only the memory of the group of men waiting for Ty that made her slide into the front seat and clamp down on her tongue. In two minutes, Ty had the truck parked in the central square. The men looked over expectantly, but Ty ignored them. He grabbed her bag before she could protest and pointed her toward a narrow path between two buildings. Ahead of them, thick shrubbery shaded a tiny adobe dwelling with a slanted roof and a stone chimney that clung to one wall like a determined vine. She took two quick steps over the creaky wooden porch, then stopped in front of the door, breathing in the hot spice of the chili peppers strung there.
The floorboards squeaked behind her as Ty came near. She could feel the heat of him. So close.
She turned instinctively and took him in, that mountain of a man. His hair looked just long enough for her fingers to skim through for a short ride. She imagined how close she’d have to be to do that. Close enough to feel the scrape of his stubble. To taste those lips. Close enough to nuzzle him until the edge had gone out of his taut body. Close enough to let their bodies brush, mesh, intertwine—
“It’s open.” His voice was gruff.
She forced herself to pull it together. God, her wolf was out of control today. The screen door gave a rusty squeal as she stepped inside and forced her attention there. The heavy beams overhead smelled of wood oil and time. The walls were white, the ceiling high. A painting of a rose hung over the bed, whispering of reckless possibility.
Ty set down her bag, and when their eyes locked as he straightened, the whisper became a roar. She got lost in his deep, dark gaze as the chiseled line of his jaw pulsed with unspoken words. She was frozen, yet burning up at the same time. The moment stretched to infinity as the air throbbed and hummed in her ears. Was her heart barely pulsing or was it thumping like a rabbit’s? There was some secret communication between them—a question asked and answered—though her mind couldn’t register what that might be. They were mere puppets, bystanders to some greater reckoning.
Then Ty’s eyes dropped to the floor and the earth stilled. Her mind took a moment to catch up, and by the time it did, the screen door had slammed. He was gone.
She slumped to the bed, her heart hammering, her ears vaguely registering the bang of the screen door. A bead of sweat dropped in slow motion from her brow. She’d survived a brush with a tornado and was still reeling, wondering how close it had come to whirling her away.
For the first time in a long while, she wanted to believe in the wolfpack myths. That there was love at first sight. That she would find her destined mate and the air would shimmer and rush. That her heat would reach out and intertwine with his and they’d slam together in a living storm of passion and never ever part.
But this man might as well have barbed wire coiled around his torso and a danger sign around his neck. Warning! Death by hundreds of thousands of volts. She wondered if Ty had rigged the defense system himself or some outside force had done it for him.
Her breathing slowly settled as her mind jerked on the reins. Maybe Ty had that effect on everyone. A powerful alpha could do that—melt everyone and everything in his path. Either you’d self-incinerate or he’d kill you the slow way: death by broken heart.
Best to avoid him. The man was bossy, busy, and seriously wounded. A man like that needed a lot of fixing—and hell, she was no mechanic.
And anyway, a myth was a myth. There was no such thing as a destined mate, not these days anyway. Shifters who found mates did it the clumsy human way: trial by error. Guessing, trying, compromising. And even that took