Desert Fate (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 3) Page 5

  “This is my place. Come on in.”

  The inside was as neat as the outside: a study in single female habitation. Every cushy throw pillow, every diamond-patterned rug was perfect, yet something about the place wept. Stef found herself studying Tina as she bustled around a kitchen decorated with needlepoint designs with yearning messages like Home Sweet Home.

  “It’s very nice,” Stef said. “Have you seen Kyle’s place?”

  She didn’t mean it as a test, but it sure wouldn’t hurt to know how intimate Tina was with Kyle’s home.

  Then again, maybe it would hurt. Bad.

  But Tina just laughed, and the envy sloughed away. “No, but I can imagine it. Chaos.”

  “Chaos is close,” she smiled. “Oh, sorry. Can I help with lunch?”

  “I’ve got it. You relax.”

  Right, relax. The word was like a cue to let the tension roll back in. So Stef wandered a little, finding a thousand cryptic clues to her host’s existence in the room. The neatly stacked magazines, the self-help books. The refrigerator covered with photos and newspaper clippings.

  She leaned in for a closer look. The clippings all came out of the sports pages: a season schedule for the San Diego Padres, a report on spring training. She looked at Tina then back at the clippings. “You like baseball?”

  “No, not really,” Tina hummed absent-mindedly while washing lettuce at the sink.

  Stef squinted at the other clippings. One player was setting new batting records, while another had been injured, it seemed. No, wait, the same player. She glanced at Tina. What was that all about?

  But she had enough of her own mysteries to sort out, so she let her eyes wander over the photos instead. Her first reaction was relief: not one showed Tina in a tight embrace with Kyle. Actually, there wasn’t a single photo of Kyle. Most of the photos were of children. There was Cody, snuggling a pink-faced baby bundled in a pink blanket with a big black dog leaning over his shoulder for a peek. There was a striking, dark-haired man steadying a toddler with one massive hand. He looked all the world like Ty, except this version wore a soft expression and a fascinated smile. Farther along the same cluttered collage were shots of Tina holding the same youngsters in various poses, so close and so tight that Stef could feel the ache.

  “That’s my niece, Tana,” Tina said over her shoulder, and Stef nearly jumped. The woman moved with the stealth of a cat.

  “And my brother Cody’s daughters.” Her finger tapped the pictures.

  Blond, sunny Cody, related to this dark raven? “He’s your brother?”

  Tina laughed like it was an old joke. “Well, my half brother. Ty’s the oldest, and then me. Then Cody and Carly came along.”

  Tina must have sensed Stef scraping her memory for faces that might be a sister to Cody, because she shook her head. “Carly lives in California with her mother.”

  Tina tapped another picture, and another. Her finger wavered a moment over another image of the baseball player then skipped right over to the next one. “That’s my aunt Jean…”

  Stef held her tongue. Any questions she asked would give Tina free rein to ask right back, and she wasn’t in the mood for another interrogation. Not unless it came from a tall, dark cop with short, spiky hair.

  Tina motioned toward the table, piled with a mountain of food. “Eat. You look like a scarecrow.”

  Stef squeezed her hands against her shirt in silent protest. This yellow T-shirt suited her just fine. Then her fingers found her waistband. Okay, maybe her shorts were a bit loose. As in, hanging off her hips. And yeah, there might have been a bit more rib showing than usual. The past couple of days had been filled with more running than eating—and not the kind of running that filled her with weary satisfaction.

  While she dug in to lunch with a ravenous hunger that swept over her like a burst dam, Tina started an ode to the ranch and the seasons and the beauty of the desert. Her voice was just lulling Stef into thinking Twin Moon was paradise when a cat moved outside the window. It sat in the sun, casually cleaning itself by licking a paw then scrubbing its ears. Stef wondered if the cat could shift forms. A werecat?

  She wouldn’t be surprised.

  Nor was she surprised when Tina made a smooth segue into the ugly details of werewolfdom. When the subject turned to topics like shifting, pack structure, and mating, Stef put her fork down and twisted her hands under the table. No longer hungry, she eyed the door.

  Escape. Her mind was crying for it. Soon, she feared, she’d be screaming it out loud.

  The warnings uttered in the council house came back to her in a rush. She belonged to North Ridge. She belonged to Ron.

  The need will start to pull you in after your first couple of changes, Tina had said.

  So how the hell do I keep him away?

  She must have said it out loud because Tina answered. “We’ll think of something.”

  Somehow, though, Tina didn’t sound so sure.

  Maybe she could go to Oregon, where her mother’s relatives lived. Or Georgia, where her dad’s closest friends were. They were all tough army guys, so maybe…

  But Tina shook her head sadly, like she’d been reading Stef’s mind. “A lone female wolf is an easy target.”

  “But what about you?” Stef blurted. “You’re single, right?”

  The light in Tina’s eyes faded, and her cheeks tightened just a pinch. “It’s hard not to be single when your father is—or was—the pack alpha and your brothers are ready to kick the ass of any man they don’t approve of right over the state line. All in the name of protecting my virtue, of course.” She said it lightly, but there was bitterness between the words.

  Still, Stef couldn’t help sounding wistful. “Sounds good.” She’d had a loving dad and a protective older brother, once upon a time.

  Tina just sighed. “Believe me, it has its disadvantages.”

  Stef looked around the perfect, empty house and gave a little nod. “I guess it would.”

  Tina studied her over her glass of juice and shook her head a little bit. “We’ll think of something. Somehow.”

  Only something and somehow weren’t much of a comfort. Not right now.

  Things were no different that night when Stef lay curled in a tight ball in bed in a small building Tina called the guest adobe. Another crazy concept, because what kind of guests would a ranch run by werewolves get? Vampires, maybe? Shapeshifting bears?

  Or maybe just other wolves. Like herself.

  She pulled the sheet from chin level to over her head, pretending she could escape her doubts. She’d been so naive in Colorado. Was she being too trusting now?

  A wolf pack, not exactly known for good manners.

  Technically, you belong to North Ridge.

  What if all this was a ruse? Maybe these wolves were doing nothing more than keeping her busy until Ron could show up and claim his mate.

  Images assaulted her mind: visions of her visits to a ranch much like this, where a beast disguised as a man sprouted fangs and forced her against a wall, then leaned in and bit deep. She remembered the struggle, the man’s crazed eyes. His shout of pain as she lashed out. No matter how tightly she clutched the sheets or squeezed her eyelids together, the images wouldn’t go away.

  And it was only getting worse. The images were sharper and more urgent, hinting at something worse to come. Like Ron, coming to get her. Ron, pinning her against another wall. If he trapped her again, would she have the strength to resist?

  The need will start to pull you in.

  If Ron came for her, no one would care. No one would come to help her.

  Kyle would come, that inner voice said, so firm and sure that her heart beat faster.

  But then the moon came out, nearly full, and her blood tingled the way it had right after the bite. As if Ron were calling to her from wherever he was, assuring her he was on his way.

  Mate, he said, his lips pulling back in greed.

  Mine, he insisted, leaning in close.

  She let
out a strangled cry and jerked right out of bed, poised to ward off her attacker. But she was alone, the nighttime silence broken only by the desperate gulping of her breath. She sank to the mattress a moment later, head in her trembling hands, and wondered what she’d lose first: her mind, her body, or her soul?

  CHAPTER TEN

  Don’t worry. The ranch is safe.

  Chill out. She’ll be fine.

  Kyle slammed a fist into the uneven wallboards of the old bunkhouse on the outskirts of the ranch, replaying Cody’s casual words. Like he could just go home and call it a night. Turn his back and walk away.

  The thing was, he’d done that a thousand times on the job. So what was so different this time?

  It’s completely different, his wolf snarled.

  This wasn’t a job. This was Stef.

  It was bad enough he’d screwed everything up by bringing her to the dining hall then caught her off guard with that stolen kiss. There was no way he could just drive away after what that kiss did to him.

  It had taken everything he had to give her some space that afternoon. That evening, too, while his wolf paced his insides to bits. Now, he was supposed to be settling in for the night in the old bunkhouse. Instead, he was tearing down the walls.

  Chill out? Don’t worry?

  Easy for Cody to say. He wasn’t the one with a…a… Kyle struggled to finish his own thought. How would he fill in that blank? A friend whose life was on the line?

  Friend? His wolf grunted. What kind of pansy-ass word is that?

  He pulled his fist back from the splintered hole he had just made, and a breath of night air filtered in, carrying the truth. Stefanie wasn’t just a friend. She’d always been more than that, and the grown-up version of the spunky adolescent stirred things in him that he could never associate with just a friend. The way he’d lost himself in her scent and in her kiss told him she was more than that. Much more.

  Try mate.

  And right on cue, it all came back: the flavor of her kiss, the texture of her skin. The trust in her eyes, giving his wolf all kinds of bad ideas—and his human side, too. He was breathing far too quickly just at the memory of it. He’d never had a kiss like that.

  Mate. Mine!

  Maybe the tingling had nothing to do with her being a Changeling, and everything to do with being his destined mate.

  Destined mates were rare occurrences; the realization should have been a cause for celebration. But if Stef was his mate, destiny had a twisted sense of humor. She’d been brutally claimed by a rival male, and fighting for her would mean dragging his whole pack into trouble—maybe even war.

  Christ, could she really be his destined mate?

  No, it had to be the Changeling in her, right?

  He kicked the door open and stalked out into the night. Maybe a run would help. Taking a deep breath, he shifted, letting the wolf out at last. And thank God for that, because things seemed clearer when he was in canine form. Simpler. There was duty and honor and the pull of the moon and not much else. He could run and howl and let his soul out of its dungeon for just a little while.

  Except tonight, there was more to it than that. There was a tickling, insistent feeling. A hunger. What was that all about?

  Try love. His wolf grinned, leaping over a ditch.

  Love, or greed?

  Love, the wolf insisted, and then chuckled. Maybe with just a little greed.

  Whatever it was, the emotion came paired with hate—that burning, foul taste that came when he pictured the scar on Stef’s neck. If only shifters could jump time the way they jumped between two bodies; he’d go back a week and stop her from stepping foot on North Ridge territory in the first place. What had she been thinking, going there alone? He wanted to ferret out her boss, rip him limb from limb then throw the pieces into the same gully where he’d stash the gutted remains of Ron, once he got his claws on that son of a bitch.

  First Ron, then the boss, his wolf corrected.

  That’s when he knew he was in trouble. Because when his human side let the wolf become the strategist, well…

  I got this, man. Trust me.

  That might have been comforting, except for the fact that you could never trust your inner wolf. That was the first thing he’d decided when he’d been turned. Wolves were all about impulse and instinct, not reason or logic, and only the latter would save Stef.

  Wanna bet? his wolf muttered back.

  He took off on a wide arc around the ranch, padding fast and furious over rough terrain. Up past the creek and the fork in the trail marked by a bull’s skull, then higher still to a ridge where he paused. Sat. Studied. Below, the lights of the ranch shone yellow in the inky night. It was quiet; everyone was tucked into their homes and settling in for family time.

  The old stab of envy hit him, and his wolf parked his rump on the cool ground, lifted his muzzle, and howled. Long and low and warbling, wishing his wasn’t the only voice filling the desert air that night. He could hear the empty echo of his own howl stretch into the hills then fade into darkness.

  Behind the eastern hills, he could feel the pulse of the moon, taunting him. Soon, it would rise over the horizon, plump but for a sliver at one edge.

  Tomorrow, most of the pack would be out to revel in the moonlight, but tonight it was just him. He gulped then and stopped singing, listening to the desert slumbering. The quiet could mean anything: just another peaceful night, or danger in the shadows.

  He gave his wolf coat an unhappy shake and took off again.

  Chill out. She’ll be fine.

  How could Stefanie be fine if some bastard of a shifter was after her? How could she be fine without someone to protect her?

  He completed a full loop, always testing, searching, alert for anything out of the ordinary. Catching the recent scent of Zack and Rae bolstered him a little. The pack’s best eyes and ears were on duty that night. Not that he could relax, but he could leave the outer perimeter to them. He needed to be closer.

  Closer.

  Very close.

  He circled the ranch, spiraling in endless laps until his paws were trampling a path around a single building: the guesthouse. He could scent his brown-eyed girl inside—the pure, uncomplicated soul that was Stefanie. The smell of all-consuming fear came through the walls, and it killed him to know she was afraid. If he could, he’d slip inside and turn a few circles around her body, too. But she’d hardly be comforted by a wolf crashing through her door, so he settled for circling the house again and again.

  He lost count of laps by the time two wolves trotted past, and though Kyle knew perfectly well they were packmates and not intruders, he couldn’t hold back a growl. A don’t fuck-with-my-foul-mood growl that carried over the deserted lane.

  One of the wolves was sunny blond, the other the color of champagne. Cody and Heather, their fur thick with the musk of sex. And why not? They’d put in a long day’s work and earned their reward: a little downtime together. Nothing wrong with a little fun.

  Except fun didn’t fit into Kyle’s world right now. Not with Stef in danger. Not with everything out of balance.

  He snorted at himself. Who was he kidding? There hadn’t been fun or balance in his life since…since… His mind went into rewind, searching his memories until he came up blank.

  When Cody shook his fur and approached, the fur on Kyle’s back spiked into a razor’s edge.

  Didn’t I tell you to go home?

  Kyle bared his teeth in response and let a growl build in the back of his throat. The empty house on the edge of the ranch wasn’t home. Wherever Stef was, that was home.

  I dare you to take another step, his growl conveyed.

  Cody halted in his tracks and cocked his head. It wasn’t often that the pack’s co-alpha got ordered around. Not by anyone but his brother, at least.

  Cody stretched his muzzle out toward Kyle. Hey, man, I told you not to worry about—

  Kyle snapped at him. If he wanted to worry, he damn well would.

 
That was his wolf half, at least. The human part buried deep inside watched in shock as his jaws clicked together an inch in front of the co-alpha’s nose.

  There was a moment of surprised silence before Cody started rumbling, too, taking up a fighting stance.

  Watch it, Kyle.

  You watch it.

  You—

  A high-pitched whine broke in to their snarling match as Heather stepped between them and nudged Cody back a step. Um, guys?

  Kyle gave himself a rough shake. Jesus, he’d just snapped at one of the pack’s two leaders—and the closest thing he had to a friend. What the hell was he thinking? It wasn’t Cody he wanted to tear to pieces, it was Ron.

  But he’d be damned if he let anyone—anyone!—close to the guesthouse tonight.

  I told you she’d be fine, Cody’s voice sounded in his mind. It was gritty, like voices always were when they communicated in wolf form.

  I told you I wasn’t leaving, he spit back.

  Then Heather chimed in again—Boys, boys. Enough already!—and Cody sighed. He turned to Heather and rubbed his muzzle along her neck. Then the two of them turned and walked away, their sides brushing.

  Be my guest. Cody’s tail flicked as he went. Stand guard all night.

  Exactly what Kyle intended to do.

  He could hear Heather pushing her thoughts to Cody, forcefully enough that he could hear her, too.

  I remember someone standing guard outside my house all night, she said, a little tease in her voice.

  That was different, Cody answered, letting Kyle in on every word.

  Heather just laughed. Wanna bet?

  Cody pulled up short and swung his head between Kyle and the guesthouse until a soft kind of realization washed over his eyes. He blinked a few times then shook his ruff. Jesus, man. I hope you know what you’re doing.

  Kyle kept his answer to himself. Christ, I hope so, too.

  He watched them go, that perfectly matched pair. Heather wound herself along Cody’s side then dipped under his neck in a wolf sign of approval. The two trotted off, and the image stuck in Kyle’s mind. Of being rubbed that way—by Stef. Of trotting into the night, side by side. That easy acceptance, that instant understanding. That sense of belonging.