Desert Hunt Page 7

  Then his hands were hitting a mattress on either side of her body, and he was transported back to this remote cabin in the hills, far, far from watchful eyes on the ranch. It was real. She was real. And her need was as great as his.

  “Zack,” she whispered, pulling him closer.

  He lowered himself, keeping his weight half an inch above her body, as if he might squeeze the goodness out of this if he went too fast. For once, he didn’t want to lose himself in a woman. He wanted to find himself there.

  Her hands traveled up his shirt and her fingers played along his spine just the way he’d imagined: the index finger first, callused and stimulating, then the middle finger, smooth and long. After that came the softer ring finger, and finally the pinkie, barely a brush.

  He wanted to hum and tell her to do it again, but all that came out was a grumble.

  His coyote sighed in exasperation. Can’t you get anything right?

  I’m trying!

  Try harder, his wolf muttered.

  “No good?” Her eyebrows shot up.

  “Very good,” he assured her, pulling her hand back into place. He said it again, ironing out the kinks in his voice, just for her. “Very good.”

  Rae turned on a smile that was all cheek and only a little lip, like she was trying to hold it back. Then her clever fingers found the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head. A breath later, she was wiggling under him, pulling her own top and bra off, and then settling back.

  He held his breath, and his coyote sighed inside. Very good.

  His eyes raked her torso, a masterpiece of mixed art forms. The cubist planes of her abdomen melted into the soft, impressionist curves of her breasts, then swept up the length of her neck to the chiseled planes of her face.

  Your turn, her eyes grinned.

  Zack felt the wolf rear up inside, body-checking the man and coyote aside. The beast’s hungry eyes locked on the prize, declaring all bets off. It was definitely his turn. And if there were any rules to this game, he was about to blow them to tiny bits.

  Chapter Twelve

  With all the electricity in the air, Rae expected a breathless tussle, a rush to fulfillment, the burst of a dam. But even after their lips met, Zack devoted a long time to nuzzling, staking his claim. The way he touched her suggested that sex came way down on a very long list that put worshiping and discovery above everything else.

  She was the one turning up the heat. It was her, pressing her hips to his. It was her, guiding him back to the bed until he had no choice but to ease her into position beneath him. Even then, his kisses were slow and sultry, like a dance on a long winter’s night. He seemed in no rush to peel off her layers, to get underneath.

  Very un-wolf-like, she decided. And very, very good.

  Nuh-uh, her wolf countered. This man is all wolf. Wait and see.

  She pulled off his shirt, then her own, eager for flesh to meet flesh. That’s when the beast flashed in his eyes, making her breath hitch. She saw impatient wolf paired with cunning coyote who was calculating how long he might stretch this night. Animal eyes that promised hot, pulsing passion and steel-hard muscle primed to take.

  He dipped his head, found her left nipple, and sucked it into his mouth, gentle despite the raw need pulsing off him. Her nipple peaked, and she could already sense what a satisfied mess she would be before the night was through. She was whimpering already, crying under the stimulation of his tongue and fingers.

  She arched back, completely at his mercy, and her wolf howled in glee. The irony wasn’t lost on her: the girl who refused to give any man an inch was suddenly handing herself over in yards. But hey, if she was going to dive off the high board, she’d do it with style. Zack was like no man she’d ever met. Alpha, but all heart. Wounded, yet giving. Passionate, but controlled.

  Mine, her wolf growled. All mine.

  The muscles of his shoulders and arms were edgy, like a sculptor had been in a hurry to finish his statue or just given up on hacking at stone that hard. She ran a hand down the landscape of his stomach, diving under his unbuttoned jeans and toward his groin. When her fingers found his shaft and closed slowly over it, she couldn’t help a little chuckle.

  “Gotcha.”

  “That was my line,” he mumbled.

  “Mine now.”

  All mine, her wolf purred as she worked him slowly up and down.

  He groaned into her chest and lay panting, motionless.

  Relish, she told herself. Do not devour. If any man deserved it, it was him.

  He tilted his head up, eyes seeking out hers, and there it was again, that secret, boyish smile. When she raised her free hand to cup his cheek, he leaned into her touch, humming as she explored him from base to tip.

  “Promise me you don’t bring all the ranch girls here on the back of your bike.”

  His eyes popped open. “I don’t. Never.” His voice was raspy, and she believed him. He shook his head and kissed her. “Never.”

  A clap of thunder brought on a flurry of hasty activity, the two of them rushing to tug off the last layers separating them. But even when her clothes lay flat on the floor and her hands gripped the headboard while her knees spread wide, Zack was tender and slow. A man in a museum, getting it exactly right.

  Using his fingers, he explored her folds and tunneled slowly inside, working her in languid circles until she was wide, wet, and crying for more. He shifted his weight, and she was sure she knew what was coming next. He’d line his body up with hers, lock his hips over hers, and slide home at last. Then they would rock, roll, and howl their pleasure into the night.

  But what Zack did next, no man had ever done to her before. He sat back, lifted her hips, and pulled her knees to his shoulders in one swift move. She couldn’t understand why it felt so right to lie back and let him, but something in her demanded this feeling of being thoroughly and utterly taken.

  Claimed? the voice of warning sounded, muffled deep inside.

  The raging heat in her smothered the worry right away. Tonight, she would not be denied—especially by herself. It was all about trust. His hung before her like a fragile thread, begging for reinforcement. What choice did she have but to wrap hers around it?

  When Zack paused, she could have burst from the pressure building inside. He tipped his head back and breathed deeply, like a weary man on the verge of claiming a hard-fought prize.

  Then he swiveled his jaw in a look that said, Make ready for me, my mate. Finally, he lifted her to his mouth like a meal too good to leave on the plate.

  Her eyes rolled back in their sockets as he feasted on her, his tongue ravishing every fold, every hidden corner of her sex. The action drove her deeper and deeper into a fog bank of bliss. The man consumed her so thoroughly, so eagerly, that all she could do was ride the exquisite movement of his tongue. Her head fell limp against the mattress—the pillow was long gone, a casualty of their movements—and listened to her own moans fill the cabin as she came undone. Higher and higher, tighter and tighter, until every muscle clenched and shuddered.

  Zack held her as she came, shaking and howling inside, then fluttered slowly back to earth.

  Heaven, her wolf sighed.

  She wanted to say something, but her legs were already wrapping around his waist, guiding him home. Hitting the orgasm of her life suddenly wasn’t enough; she wanted all of him.

  His green eyes studied her, glittering with need.

  Need. Not greed. The man was a prince.

  “Zack, please.” She was begging, but it was better than what her wolf was yowling inside.

  Fuck me. Fill me. Now.

  Another man might have reveled in the power he held over her, but Zack simply nodded, like her wish was his command.

  His green eyes narrowed as he pushed in, one delicious inch at a time. She was consumed by the slick, white heat of him, stretching her, tapping something deep in her soul. This was as emotional as it was physical, and she feared what it might make her say, vow, or promise. Her wolf wa
s trying to bare her fangs and lick his neck in preparation for a mating bite, desperately thirsty for more.

  Mate! Mine! her wolf cried, and she swore she could hear his reply.

  Mate! Mine!

  With a mighty crack, lightning split a tree outside, and the sound boomed over the hills. Zack hammered home then started pumping to a steady beat. Out, and slowly back in. Out, back in. Rae succumbed to the climax coiling inside like a spring, feeling it slip out of her grasp even as she tried to grab on and yoke it back. Zack’s pace went from strong and steady to deep and desperate as he, too, gave in to instinct. When he came with a low grunt, she found herself flying, then floating through space, her brain on standby as her body hung on through wave after wave of pleasure.

  Then she was nestled beside him, listening to his heart race. Two thick arms wrapped around her: protecting, not possessing. Promising.

  Even his sweat smelled clean. Honest. She burrowed against his skin, wondering if she could ever get enough of him.

  She hung there, suspended between dreams and conscious thought, marveling at this sense of peace filling the cabin. She could lose herself in dreams. Lose herself in plans, in hopes. But lose herself in a man? It seemed foolish and foolhardy.

  Yet it seemed so right.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Deep in the night, Rae’s eyes popped open. She lay still, struggling to comprehend what was tugging at her.

  It wasn’t Zack, not this time. They’d been up twice already, each time finding another way to dance into each other’s arms and bodies, and each time as good as the first. She wouldn’t be surprised if her skin was glowing like a beacon in the night. A beacon for him to find his way home to.

  Right now, though, Zack’s steady breath and relaxed limbs signaled sleep. She watched his chest rise and fall with every breath. Was there anything more appealing than a rock of a man babied by sleep? Especially a man whose moments of peace were as fleeting as his.

  She was tempted to brush the hair back from his forehead, to smooth a hand over his skin. But the force urging her awake was a different one. It came from beyond their intertwined limbs, beyond the cabin. From out in the night.

  Time to hunt, came the whisper, the call.

  Part of her wanted to jump up and obey, while the other part didn’t want to budge. She glanced down at her naked body, locked under the weight of Zack’s arm. Feeling possessed wasn’t supposed to feel so good.

  That was the frightening part: she wanted it. She wanted to be possessed.

  She told herself she couldn’t give in, not even to Zack’s wounded warrior appeal. A man like him could take away her freedom and smother her soul. She’d seen it happen again and again. Greer, the brutal alpha in Colorado had been like that. Roric in Nevada had the same heavy-handed style, as did Tyrone of Twin Moon Ranch. His son, Ty, seemed decent enough, but he had that same inner power — so much that it created a black hole all around him.

  Alphas were like that. They were all the same.

  Even Zack. He kept his power under wraps, but it would snuff her out if she stayed too close for too long. He’d erase the special part that was Rae and shape her into just another mistress. Whether that happened through brute force or her own dumb cooperation, the end result would be the same. She’d lose who she was. Lose everything.

  No, her wolf insisted. Our mate gives without taking away.

  He’s not our ma— Rae wanted to insist, but somehow, she couldn’t form the words, not even in her mind.

  She gave herself an inner shake. New moon. Time to go.

  Her wolf nodded in agreement. New moon. Time to hunt.

  The storm was clearing, and Zack had chased Jed away. No reason to wait.

  She slid slowly out from under Zack’s arm and padded silently to the door, where she hesitated, looking at her bow. Would it be that kind of hunt?

  She considered, testing the air. No. Not tonight. Tonight was a wolf hunt. The best kind.

  Still, gravity seemed to double its pull on her feet, trying to coax her back to bed. Just further proof, she knew, of what she had to beware of.

  Outside, she studied the sky. The storm was clearing quickly, heading south in search of a new stage for its mighty show. The first gaps were appearing between clouds, each twinkling with a pale star. Bit by bit, Rae cleared the clutter from her mind and focused on the task ahead of her. The hunt. It was her duty. Her passion. Her calling.

  She closed her eyes and let the moon pull the wolf out of her. Her shift started with a yawn that gave way to a stretch as another body emerged from inside. It came willingly, her body folding into its familiar second shape smoothly. She dropped to all fours and curved her back as golden brown fur broke out over her skin. Her nose stretched long, filling with desert scents while her eyesight faded to grayscale. Her wolf sniffed and whisked its tail, left, then right.

  Free at last.

  The first scent to stand out—jump out, was more like it—was Zack’s, and she fought the urge to hurry back inside. She tilted her nose higher to catch more distant scents, slowly honing in on her prey. There—there it was. Warm-blooded. Musky. Meaty. Something young and healthy. Something strong.

  She drew the scent deep into her lungs until it practically circulated in her bloodstream and she could imagine a dotted line snaking over the lumpy landscape to her quarry. Then she shook her furry body and set off on her hunt.

  Hunt. A term that was frequently misunderstood—especially her kind of hunt.

  Only certain hunts involved killing, and sometimes that task fell to her—to cull the weak and send their bodies back to the earth, their spirits back to the sky. That kind of prey often succumbed quickly, even gratefully. That’s what her bow was for—to deliver a quick and merciful end.

  Tonight, though, would be a different type of hunt, and it wasn’t about killing. It was the trickiest kind of hunt because catching prey alive and uninjured was a far greater challenge.

  Rae set off at a trot, ears perked, eyes wary. She would have one chance to get this right.

  She settled into a long lope, trying to foresee how tonight’s hunt would unfold. Her prey might flee, or it might fight—anything to stay safe. If only her prey knew what was best for it, her life would be a lot easier.

  Her wolf pulled its lips back in a grin. Now, what fun would that be?

  One mile stretched into two, then three, as she wound through the scrubby terrain, closing in on her prey. Her paws pounded over dirt and rock, nose high in the air. Zack’s style of tracking would be different: nose to the ground as he traced his quarry by following their trail. Hers involved teasing her prey’s location out of the myriad scents in the air and closing in on them. That meant she could take shortcuts without fear of losing the trail. But it had to be a fresh and active scent for that to work. A tracker like Zack, on the other hand, could follow older trails, and over longer distances.

  We’d be a good team, her wolf decided.

  She pushed the thought away. Hunting was a solitary occupation, right?

  Wasn’t always that way, her wolf grumbled. In the old days—

  Rae cut it off there. Yes, she’d heard the stories of the glory days, when entire packs would join the hunt and run as one in the night. But those days were gone. Her kind had become as rare as the species it was her job to protect, and group hunts even more rare.

  Still, it felt good to be out running in the night, even alone. Her heart pounded and her claws skittered over ground. She raced up a rocky mesa then padded to a stop and crept over a ridge. Below her, a tight little valley with a tall line of trees followed the meandering path of a stream. She could smell fresh water and the lush scent of the plants sucking it all in.

  There. Her quarry was there, in the shadows below.

  It was drinking from the stream in short sips, popping its head up regularly to scan the area before ducking down to drink again. Its movements were barely perceptible in the gray-on-black shadows, but once Rae had honed in on it, the shape
grew clear.

  A pronghorn. A magnificent desert pronghorn, one of the rarest of the rare. The pure white of its rump flashed against the landscape, while the darker lines accenting its curves blurred its edges, making it a mere ghost in the night. A female. Young, sturdy, and very much on edge.

  As the doe should be. The few pronghorns left in the wild were valued by trophy hunters for their beautiful pelts and one-of-a-kind horns. They’d been hunted to near-extinction before making a tenuous recovery—but who knew? Every individual was critical to the species’ survival—especially a young female like this.

  Except it was too early in the season for the gazelle-like creature to be in this neck of the desert. What was the silly doe thinking?

  Sadly, pronghorns weren’t known for their brains.

  She’ll be fast, though. Her wolf licked its lips. Fast enough to give a good chase.

  Therein lay the challenge. A wolf would have to be clever and fit to catch a pronghorn like this.

  Watch me, her wolf grinned.

  She pressed her belly to the ground and let the earth’s heat seep into her body as she formulated a plan. She’d circle and approach from the west, sticking to the thick line of scrub flanking the trees. Then she’d—

  A twig snapped on her right and the desert went deathly still. The pronghorn flicked its ears—once, twice—then fled.

  Rae cursed and whipped her head toward the intruder: a coyote, just coming over the rise. He’d been quiet, but not quiet enough.

  No, not a coyote. A wolf. Or was it a coyote?

  Something in between, she decided. A very sexy something with the imposing size of a wolf and the coloring of a coyote.

  Zack?

  She hated that part of her gave a happy zing to see him. The other part, however, couldn’t help a yelp of protest. He was ruining her hunt!

  She took off after her quarry, claws scuttling over the earth while her wolf lodged an entire catalog of complaints.