Wind Howl

Wind Howl

Vonna Harper

Wind Howl Copyright © August 2009 by Vonna Harper All rights reserved. This copy is intended for the purchaser of this e-book ONLY. No part of this e-book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without prior written permission from Loose Id LLC. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. ISBN 978-1-60737-420-6 Available in PDF, HTML, Microsoft Reader, and Mobi Editor: Ann M. Curtis Cover Artist: Artist Name Printed in the United States of America

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About this Title Genre: Shape-shifter Paranormal Previous Title: Storm Howl Carlan Nashel is a sensible, responsible, intelligent woman. She doesn't believe in spirits or paranormal wolves. She doesn't! So why can't she shake the feeling that her brother's spirit is watching over her, and that he wants something more than for her to take care of their aging parents? She returns to her childhood home to make arrangements for her family, and visit the Gorge where her brother died to say her last goodbyes. But a storm drives her into the trailer and the arms of the man who took her virginity in high school. A man who, like her brother, was irrevocably shattered by these mountains. Storms rage, inside and out, but Carlan and Brett will have to accept more than each other again; they'll have to accept the wolf spirits, including Carlan's brother, to survive the howling and learn to love. Publisher's Note: This book contains explicit sexual content, graphic language,

and

situations

that

Domination/submission (mild).

some

readers

may

find

objectionable:

Chapter One “Are you happy? You got me up here, now leave me alone!” Expecting no response, Carlan Nashel gripped the steering wheel and stared out at what she could see of the woods-surrounded parking lot. Rain sheeted down her windshield, making it hard for her to remember that it was daylight and not the middle of the night, and she wasn't having yet another of her disturbing dreams. “I need to sleep. Is it so much to ask for?” Obviously getting a few uninterrupted hours of sleep wasn't going to happen, and sleep deprivation was digging holes in her mental state. Otherwise, she wouldn't be here. Especially today. “You're probably laughing at me. Messing with my mind. Do you think you're going to accomplish something by making me see where—where you know what happened.” It had been raining since a little after dark last night, and according to the weather report, the early spring storm was going to hang around through much of the day. So why was she here? Releasing the steering wheel, Carlan rubbed her sweaty palms on her jeans. The wind accompanying the rain slammed into the side of her car, shaking it. No one, repeat, no other person, was anywhere near that awful/awesome place called The Gorge. She wasn't going to pull on her allweather coat, get out, and make the short trek to the river; she wasn't! Instead, in just a few seconds, she'd head back to where she was needed.

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“Do you know what's happened to our folks, bro? The hell you're putting them through? Wait, how could you? You're dead.” No matter how many times she'd forced herself to face the fact that her big brother, Skye, had died in a horrible accident up here last summer, reality made tears burn her eyes and grief tighten her heart. “You knew better. Damn it, you aren't—weren't—stupid. I always thought you had a brain.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Goes to show how much I really knew about you. And now I'm left to pick up the pieces and try to keep our folks from self-destructing from grief. After everything they've gone through since Dad's accident, it isn't fair!” Swamped by emotion, she pounded her fists against the steering wheel. Sis, I'm sorry.

Claustrophobic didn't come close to describing how Brett Schneider felt. Put him in a one-person travel trailer and surround him with a storm that showed no sign of letting up, and cabin fever was bound to strike. Granted, the rain and wind were supposed to run their course later today, but in the meantime, there wasn't a thing he could do—except get out of the woods he wasn't sure he really wanted to be in anymore. Sitting up, he carefully scooted off the double bed he'd been sprawled on, and took the three steps necessary to reach the window over the so-called table. No surprise, his right leg protested, prompting him to gently massage his thigh. The evergreens that made up his world were a sodden mess. Although the debris that littered the ground obscured the underlying mud, he knew he'd sink up to his knees if he left the narrow gravel road that led to his trailer. Bottom line, it'd be several days before things dried out enough for him to get back to marking the trees that Schneider Logging had a government contract to bring down. There was no reason for him to stay here asking himself questions and trying to make decisions. So why hadn't he already jumped into his rig and taken off?

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Good question, the career logger inside him said. Lethargy, maybe? Old age setting in? No, he yet had to see thirty. Then what? Telling himself he hadn't wanted to make the short, wet sprint from the trailer to his rig provided a bit of an explanation, but as he studied the treetops fighting the wind, Brett admitted that wasn't it. The forest he'd been born and raised in wanted something from him. It wasn't about to let him go. Fuck that! He was no longer the helpless man he'd been not more than a year ago. And yet he couldn't force himself to leave. Then what was he?

Carlan had been trudging along with her head down as much to avoid the largest rain puddles as to protect her face, but now something made her slow her steps. She lifted her head. With spots of snow still in places and the ground now saturated with rain, the hikers and campers of the summer season had yet to invade the area. Why, then, did she feel as if she was being watched? It was a little after noon, hardly time for the shadows to take over, so why this shiver down the middle of her back? The easy explanation was that her nervous system was out of whack because she didn't want to be here. However, she couldn't quite buy that. Someone unaccustomed to the forest might not feel comfortable with trees closing in from all sides, but she'd grown up here in southern Oregon. The forest had once been her playground, her backyard. Once. The way-out-there explanation was that her dead brother had found a way to reach her from wherever he was. Except she knew better. Although she had yet to reach The Gorge area with its man-made path and protective fencing, the river's endless scream made her feel as if she were already there. The ancient volcanic spill that had transformed a normal

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streambed into too-narrow channels and steep drops drew her to it, much as shock and fascination made people stare at an accident scene. For a moment, she nearly turned tail and ran back to her car, but then her attention was drawn to the five-foot-high chain-link fencing designed to keep people from getting too close to certain death. Just beyond the fence lurked the river that had taken her brother's life. Her heart filling her throat, Carlan forced one step after another until she reached the barrier. Pulling her hands out of her raincoat pockets, she laced them through the icy, wet metal and peered over the top To her right was a hundred-foot-high waterfall. Thousands of years ago, cooling lava had created a channel so restricted that during spring runoff, the overflow shot high into the air before crashing into the dark, swirling pool at the bottom. Several fallen trees spanned the river, looking like footpaths for the insane or fatally fool-hearted. “All right,” she said. “I'm here. What more do you want from me?” “Sis, I'm sorry.” “Stop that!” Releasing the fence, she pressed her hands against her ears. Stress, tension, and sleep deprivation had conspired against her to make her think Skye's ghost was talking to her. Any more of this and she'd have to see a doctor, but what kind? A medical doctor would probably focus on her physical symptoms and prescribe something to slow her heart rate. On the other hand, a shrink would try to get into her head, something she both needed and feared. Rain ran over her wrists and down into her coat sleeves. Shivering, Carlan lowered her arms and shook her hands, but the damage had been done. She felt her sweatshirt sticking to her. Fine; good, in fact. Sanity said she'd given into the most irrational impulse of her life by coming here. Despite the gnawing sense that she'd never find closure unless she stood at the exact spot where Skye's life had ended, what was the point if she was so cold hypothermia set in?

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“I'm going,” she announced. “Getting out of here. I can't help it if some part of you is still hanging around, just as I didn't have a hand in your dying.” Half expecting the voice in her head to reply, she tucked her hands under her armpits. Only the storm spoke to her, saying ancient things about a timeless place. She'd done it, gotten the monkey off her back by making the trip to The Gorge. Her goal met, she needed to refocus her attention on parenting her parents. Buoyed by that thought, she started to turn back the way she'd come, only to be hit by a wind and rain gust that nearly knocked her off her feet. Something that felt too much like an icy hand slammed into her shoulder and spun her toward the river. Terrified that the ghostly apparition had found a way to actually touch her, Carlan screamed, “Stop it! What are you doing?” “Trying to help you.” Skye? She shook her head. Hard. Impossible. But who else? “Leave me alone. Just leave me the hell alone!” “I can't.” Even with the relentless wind, she had no doubt which direction the voice came from, and although it was the last thing in the world she wanted to do, she stared behind her into the woods up the trail from where she was standing. No fewer than eight yellow eyes glittered back at her. Eyes that could belong to only one thing: a wolf pack.

“What are you doing here?” Blinking, Brett stared at the passenger's seat as if expecting someone to answer, but he was alone in his truck's cab. More to the point, he'd just pulled into The Gorge parking lot. Instead of it being empty, as logic said it would be on a miserable excuse for a day like this, a dark gray car was parked close to the foot trail.

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Throwing his truck into park, he pondered not the car's presence, so much as why he'd pulled in instead of continuing the trek he'd barely started down the mountain. The gray car sported an out-of-state license, which pointed, kind of, to a tourist who'd heard of The Gorge and was determined to experience it no matter what the weather. If that was the case, he had no inclination to disturb the fool's insistence on communing with nature. Let said fool get cold and wet. Which didn't answer the question of what he was doing. A shrug did nothing to shake the cobwebs from his mind. Neither did rubbing his eyes and stretching his spine. Man, he really needed to get more sleep. That hazy shit that'd been entering his mind lately was back. He didn't know why he'd stopped or what he was doing here, but it felt like he needed to be here, doing…something. “Yeah, right.” Damn, his mind was fucked up lately. So why, then, was he killing the engine and opening the truck door? Why was he fighting the wind to get his ass out of the cab and ignoring the too-familiar ache in his leg? Why was he securing the cord on his coat's hood and making sure the top button was fastened? What he really wanted to know was, why was he placing his foot on the path leading to The Gorge?

Maybe to give him something to do other than question his sanity as he trudged along the familiar trail, Brett tried to recall the last time he'd been here. His brother, Jake, and he had debated coming back after the river had crushed the life out of Skye Nashel last summer, but they hadn't gotten around to it. Or rather, he'd talked himself out of the trip. He knew all too well about not wanting to revisit places filled with darkness.

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“What a damn fool thing to do, Skye,” he muttered, refusing to draw comparisons between Skye's fatal adventure and what he was currently doing. “Never gave a thought to what your stunt might do to your family, did you? Too busy being macho man to consider your parents and sister.” “It wasn't like that.” Nostrils flaring, Brett stopped and looked around, but although he listened intently for the better part of a minute, he heard nothing beyond his heartbeat and the storm. In some ways, he wished he had spotted Skye's ghost, because that was certainly preferable to the other explanation—that what he'd gone through himself just a few months ago not far from here had unhinged parts of his brain. Damn it, his accident was behind him. Except for a bunch of screws and plates holding his leg together, his life was chugging along just fine. So why has it been so hard to recommit to the only job you've ever done? a part of him demanded. His response was simple. None of your damn business. Even with the wind fighting him, Brett picked up his pace. He'd make sure that the tourist was okay, that's all. But although he should feel noble, all he felt was uneasy. And not alone. He thought back to what his brother had told him about the day he'd met Sarah, the woman who now lit up Jake's life. They hadn't been far from here, a shade over two miles to be exact, during a fierce snowstorm late last winter. Turned out, they hadn't been as alone as they'd thought when their separate worlds came together. Instead, they'd shared the snowstorm and their hotel adventure with a pack of wolves.

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Chapter Two Not paying any attention to what she was doing, Carlan ran. No matter how much she needed to, she couldn't bring herself to look behind her. She had to get to her car and lock herself inside it, nothing else mattered! She'd heard Skye's voice; she'd be locked up if she told anyone. Her boots made slapping sounds on the wet cement as she ran, calming her—at least she could hear something concrete—and bringing her closer to panic. I'm running from a ghost. How did she run away from a ghost, when she couldn't see it? And the wolves… She shivered. How freaky was that? She hadn't seen wolves, because the predators that once roamed Oregon and most of the United States had been exterminated long ago. Granted, wolves had been reintroduced to places like Yellowstone National Park and the state of Idaho, and a handful had even crossed the state line into eastern Oregon, but it would be years before the always-moving predators made their way this far west. Wild dogs, then? “No.” “Stop it!” she screamed at the voice that positively, absolutely couldn't be her brother's. “Leave me alone.” “I told you, I can't.” Even though she fought the pull with every fiber in her, Carlan slowed and looked to her right where the voice had come from. She blinked. It couldn't be. Yet the wolves with their compelling eyes were right there, only a few feet away, and not back where she'd left them, standing at the base of a massive pine.

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There were four of them, one slightly larger than the others. His eyes bore into her, carving even deeper holes in her sanity. “Carlan? I didn't mean to hurt you or our folks.” Jamming her fist against her mouth, she started to back away from the predators. Yet if she continued moving in the direction she was headed, she'd only put more distance between herself and her vehicle. Everything in her shrank down to a simple and primitive fact: she had to get past the pack. One step became another followed by yet another. She walked without looking where she was going, because she didn't dare take her eyes off the magnificent and deadly creatures some fifty feet away. Rain sheeted off them, and the wind tossed their coats, but they seemed oblivious to the weather. Their muzzles were open, revealing killing fangs, and their ears pricked forward, as if determined to hear every sound she made. Their black noses twitched. “Oh God, God!” she exclaimed as she drew even with them. Her heart pounding wildly, so fast, she was afraid it would explode from the fear itself, she took two more trembling steps, and then she was past them. Another “oh God.” She broke into a run. Her boots, although rainproof, hadn't been designed for hard use. Twice she nearly lost her footing, but she continued her panicked charge. Nearing a fallen limb, she slowed. She noticed movement ahead of her on the trail. Dear Lord, not more of them. For an instant, she thought she was going to lose it, but the entire mountain couldn't have conspired against her. It just couldn't be another wolf or her brother in ghost form, it just couldn't. She squinted. Thank you, God, for small favors. It was a human. “Help me!” she cried. Ignoring the beginning of a cramp in her cold thighs, she jumped over the limb and sprinted toward the stranger. “Help me, please!” To her relief, he held out his arms. She threw herself into them, whimpering but determined not to scream.

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“Thank you.” Feeling safe, finally, she suddenly started. “Are you armed?” “Armed? No. What's going on?” Something about the man's voice nudged a memory, as did his hard embrace. Unable to concentrate on that, Carlan wrapped her arms around his middle and looked back over her shoulder. No wolves stood at the base of the large tree. No voice shattered her thoughts. Gathering her courage, she pushed herself out of the man's arms and backed up a step. She looked behind her again for reassurance. The spot where the pack had been was deserted. Had she imagined everything? “Are you all right?” the stranger asked. Another prick of recognition captured her attention. There was something about the man that was not simply familiar but seemed somehow…vital. Like her, he'd buried himself under layers of all-weather clothing, so she could only guess at his body's contours. She guessed he stood maybe two or three inches over six feet, and he sported no-nonsense shoulders, a straight back, and a slightly unnatural cant to his stance, as if he put more weight on one leg than the other when he walked. His hands were in his pockets, as if to reassure her that she was safe around him. Instead of hunching forward against the storm, he faced it squarely. “Are you all right?” he repeated. “I don't know.” His voice took her another step toward recognition. “I, ah, I didn't expect to have company.” Lame. “I take it that's your car in the parking lot?” The wind threw its weight against her right shoulder and threatened to tear off her coat, but she barely noticed. “Brett?” she managed. “Brett Schneider?” “Yes.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Oh my. Carlan.” “Yes,” she whispered.

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They stood and stared at each other. Her heart seemed bent on breaking free of her chest, and she couldn't remember why she'd been running. She'd known their paths would cross sooner or later. In fact, she'd wondered why she hadn't heard from him since she'd moved back to Prospect a few weeks ago to care for her parents. But even if he'd called or dropped by, what would they have said to each other? Worse, how would they have acted? Back when they were in high school, he'd embodied everything a rugged lifestyle represented, but he'd still been filling out, not yet a man. Carlan stared at his body. He'd become one over the intervening years, a little taller, yes, but much more telling, his physique had matured. She saw not the jock he'd once been, but someone who'd shouldered adult responsibility. He might not be as densely muscular as he'd been when his life revolved around football, but neither was she the skinny girl with big breasts she'd been when her world had revolved around him. This man fit solidly within the only world he'd ever wanted, the world she'd once told him she wanted nothing to do with. It had been years since she'd stood face-to-face with someone more at home in the wilderness than surrounded by concrete. Maybe that's why she didn't know how to respond, how to handle her reaction. “What were you running from?” he asked, the question pulling her away from whatever spell held her. “What? Maybe my imagination.” “No, you weren't.” “I don't know what to tell you,” she said, because anything more might label her as demented. Besides, she needed time to try to make sense of what had just happened. “What are you doing here?” “I could ask you the same question.” “You can't guess?” “Because of what happened here to Skye.”

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“Yes.” The cold she'd forgotten about returned in full force, making her shiver. Brett withdrew a hand from his pocket and started to reach for her, then stopped. “Maybe I have no right asking, but have you been here since the accident?” he asked. As children growing up in the rural community of Prospect, some twenty miles down the mountain, she, Brett, and their classmates had made The Gorge part of their extensive playground. In one day, that all had changed. “No, I haven't.” “And you chose today?” The truth, not that she wanted to tell him, was that the day had done the choosing. After stress- and work-filled weeks of parenting her parents, she'd woken up this morning knowing she could no longer put off the inevitable. “I know it doesn't make a lot of sense. Now that I'm here, I wish I wasn't.” “Because something spooked you?” “Please forget what you saw and heard. I just—my imagination—” “Imagination, or too much thinking about Skye?” “Maybe that's it,” she said. “That and the weather. What about you? What has you out in this miserable excuse for spring?” For a long time, she didn't think he was going to answer. His attention left her and went to their wild surroundings, and if she'd dared, she would have asked if he'd seen the wolves too. But not only didn't she want him thinking she'd lost her mind, wolves weren't what she wanted to talk about. It had been too long since she last saw him. “You're the last person I expected to see today,” she said. “I didn't expect to see you either, but it had to happen, didn't it?” Was that a note of bitterness in his voice? Maybe, but then could she blame him for the way she'd ended their hot and heavy teenage romance? If

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only she'd done a better job of expressing herself, of explaining her fears. She'd tried; he just hadn't listened to the emotion behind her stumbling words. “Yes,” she belatedly replied. “It had to happen.” She gave him a penetrating look but couldn't see behind the mask he wore. “Why are you here?” “I've been staying near Fern Trail the past few days, setting things up for a logging operation.” Fern Trail started a few miles northwest of The Gorge, so his being in the neighborhood made sense, kind of. “You're not there today,” she pointed out. “Because we're not going to be able to get anything done until the ground dries. I decided to head home.” “And on a whim, you pulled into The Gorge parking lot?” His shrug seemed too casual. “Pretty much. I'd think you'd be relieved. The way you were running—” “Nerves, all right. Don't rub it in.” “I didn't mean to.” “We're logging? Your brother, Jake, you mean? Is he here too?” “No. I've been a one-man operation this week. Look, you and I have a lot of catching up to do, but not like this. You're shaking, and your lips are blue.” She touched her lips but couldn't feel anything, and warmth was leaving her fingers. If she slipped her hand under Brett's coat and rested it against his chest, she'd be not just warm but hot. Despite the risk, she'd slide her fingers over his flesh in an attempt to reconcile the difference between the teenager she remembered and the man he'd become, yet that wouldn't be enough. Nothing short of him burying himself in her would do. After all this time, she still wanted him. Shaken by the thought, she rammed her hand into her pocket. His coat was gray or brown; wet, it was hard to be sure. His soaked jeans looked bleached of color, just like their setting. He had, she concluded, taken on the

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hues of their surroundings. She probably had too. There they were, two mortals in danger of drowning or freezing or both, but instead of putting together whatever it took to change conditions, they kept staring at each other. Not only that, but she was fast sinking into the past and the night she'd handed him her virginity—the first of many nights before reality had ended what had once given her life meaning. “I'd forgotten how overwhelming the river sounds here,” she admitted in an effort to put distance between herself and Brett's role in her past. “The never-ending anger.” Although rain clung to his lashes, Brett didn't blink. She'd never been stared at as intently as she was at that moment, making her wonder if he was reading her mind. “You don't need to be listening to that right now,” he said, instead of commenting on their shared history. “What you need is to get warm and dry.” “I know. My car—” “Not that.” He frowned. “Carlan, my trailer's only a few miles away and still warm.” “Your trailer?” “Maybe it's coincidence that we ran into each other, but I don't think so.” Taking his attention off her, he scanned their surroundings. “I want to take advantage of that, starting now. I hope you feel the same way.” “Listen to him. And answer him with the truth.” “I, ah, I do.” Despite the alarms going off in her head, she asked herself what might happen once they were settled in the small space with the wilderness on all sides, rain hammering on the metal sides, and memories surrounding them. Maybe he sensed her question, because he reached out and took hold of her elbow. Lightning flamed and returned life to her elbow, and she was transported back to those unwise and wild teen nights they'd spent in each other's arms, their bodies melded together.

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Shaking from the weather and memories and the mysterious essence closing in on all sides, she started to lean toward him, only to stop on frozen legs. There was no denying the intense yellow eyes staring back at her from the trees.

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Chapter Three As someone who'd been in shock himself, Brett figured he recognized the signs. Not only wasn't Carlan acknowledging his existence, she seemed oblivious to her discomfort. He, however, couldn't ignore her slight, shivering body, so he pulled her against his side. Doing so touched emotions and nerves he never expected to encounter today. Damn! The years hadn't blunted her impact on him. If anything, her absence had only made his feelings for her stronger. Trying to push aside his newly awakened senses—and more—he turned her toward him and vigorously rubbed her arms. Although she didn't resist, she looked back over her shoulder. “Oh God,” she gasped. He followed her gaze. Until that moment, he'd been skeptical about what his brother had told him about there being a wolf pack in these parts. No longer. There stood four of the primitive beasts, one of them standing slightly ahead of the others and big enough that he could easily be labeled the alpha male. Instead of throwing up the logical argument that no wolves lived in this part of the state, Brett concentrated instead on trying to accept the unbelievable. Despite their powerful bodies and no-nonsense fangs, he didn't believe they were preparing to attack. There was something unreal about them. Almost surreal. Yes, rain had made the expected impact on their thick coats. That aside, they didn't move a muscle and were positioned in a way that made him wonder if they were posing. Too bad he didn't have a camera on him.

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“You see them, don't you?” Carlan whispered. “Yes.” “That's…that's what I was running from.” Tightening his hold on her, Brett debated placing his body between the wolves and her, but would that make any difference if they attacked? “Where did you first spot them?” “When I was right at The Gorge.” She shivered, whether from cold or fear, he couldn't tell. “Why do they keep staring at us?” Us. “I don't know. Listen, I have a rifle in my rig. We're going to walk slowly toward it. Don't make any sudden moves. It'll be all right.” Whether she shivered or shuddered, he couldn't tell. “They don't live here,” she said. “They can't really be.” Just like that, she'd zeroed in on what had his nerves the most on edge. Just the same, he didn't believe they were in danger from the predators. Problem was, he couldn't say what had brought him to that conclusion. “If you're looking for logic,” he said. “I can't give you that.” Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her against his side. Then he started walking with his head turned so he could keep an eye on the pack. Carlan kept pace. Within less than a minute, he could no longer see the wolves. Without them to claim his full attention, it slid to the woman he was guiding. There wasn't nearly enough to Carlan. Granted, except for at Skye's funeral, he hadn't seen her since high school graduation, and over time his memory had misted, but she'd seemed not more substantial back then, but something intangible. Hoping that something would come to him, he concentrated on guiding them around the deepest puddles and ignored his wet, icy hand. The longer they walked, the longer and stronger her steps became. He didn't try to say anything, because he didn't trust his teeth not to chatter. Besides, the ache in his damnable reconstructed leg was taking a hell of a lot of concentration to keep at bay.

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Yeah, his leg. It was a huge part of why he hadn't gone to see her since she'd returned to Prospect. The last thing he needed now was to hear her say, I tried to warn you. It was possible she didn't know about his accident because her parents had been too preoccupied with grief to tell her about it. If that was the case, he'd try to keep it that way. No artificial lighting illuminated the parking lot, but it was what passed for daylight, and he was relieved when their respective vehicles came into sight. His thoughts started to turn to the wondrous task of getting both of them into a dry truck cab when the missing word bloomed inside him. In the past, Carlan had seemed more alive than she did now. Back then, it had been easy to be optimistic—albeit ignorant—about their futures. Mostly they'd just had the hots for each other, in spades. “Your car will be fine here,” he told her. “No one's going to come in.” “Except for the wolves.” “Except for them.” He waited until he'd steered her to his rig's passenger's side and unlocked the door. “Get in. I have something to tell you.” He thought she might need help climbing in, but she easily pulled herself up and sat. She was shaking so that she bounced on the vinyl, prompting him to close the door and hurry around to the driver's side. He climbed in, shut his door against the storm, and turned on the engine. As hot air whooshed up from the floor heater, he started to rub his right leg, then stopped. “Problems?” she asked. “Old age.” “You're only a few months older than me, so I know it's definitely not that.” The macho teen he'd once been would have denied any human frailty, but that kid no longer existed. In its place lived a man still coming to grips with his own vulnerability. “Minor mishap. Cold has a tendency to bite.” “That's what my dad always said.”

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“He should know.” “Yes, he should. His back is never going to get better.” Instead of pulling the truck out of park, Brett studied the area where they'd come out of the woods. She did the same. And to his relief, she didn't say anything more about the accident that had destroyed her father's back and his ability to earn a living logging when she was twelve. “Still no sign of them,” he said unnecessarily. “That something I wanted to tell you—we aren't the first people to have seen the wolves.” “Who? Forest rangers?” She sounded so hopeful, it almost broke his heart. “Maybe hunters or campers?” Brett shook his head. “No. My brother and the woman he met the day he saw them.” Her attention snapped from the wilderness to him. “What happened?” “You'll have to ask him. Jake hasn't been in a mood to give many details.” “Did they attack or show signs of aggression?” “No. That's one thing he was clear on.” She nodded and held her hands down by the heat vents. “What about…” “What about what?” “Never mind. Brett, I want to leave.” “What if the wolves follow us? They did with my brother, showed up in more than one place.” What little color remained on her cheeks faded. “I know. They've already done that with me.” Nodding, he started the truck moving. Much as he wanted to ease her mind, he couldn't think how. “Look,” he said to change the subject, “I'm sorry about your dad's stroke. The poor man's already had enough health problems. That's why you moved back, isn't it?”

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“The stroke, and everything else that's happened to my folks since Skye's death.” She leaned forward until her forehead nearly touched the dash. For a moment, he thought she was crying, and wondered what in the hell he should do. “I don't want to talk about it,” she said as she straightened, her voice tight. “Not now.” “All right.” But you need to. There wasn't any traffic on the mountain highway, which was just as well, because both the center and fog lines needed repainting, which made staying in his lane difficult. Between the rain hitting the roof and the slap of wet tires, he decided to wait before trying to come up with something to talk about. In the meantime, he let his mind wander. He'd once loved Carlan so much, he hadn't been sure he'd survive their breakup. Not long after, she'd taken off after high school graduation to find her fortune and future beyond the mountains that owned his soul. He'd known her since they'd both been in diapers. For years he'd thought of her as nothing more than another playmate, a fellow hick who was always game for wilderness hikes, like where they and their friends pretended to be part of a Native American scouting party or bear hunters or even explorers. Then things had begun changing, beginning with her developing a pair of intriguing bumps on her chest. Soon after he'd started having wet dreams, and from then on, being near her got really complicated. No longer was he content to tease and tickle her until she hauled off and punched him. Instead, he spent incredible amounts of time designing excuses for touching her, particularly those intriguing bumps. She sometimes slapped him away, but other times, she let his fingers linger. Not that he'd ever tell her, but he keenly remembered the first day he'd seen her wearing a bra. Every student above the third grade, all twenty of them, had been playing baseball, with her on one team and him on the other. He'd been catching, and suddenly, there she was, running right at him from

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third base. Instead of trying to tag her out, he gaped at the mesmerizing and no-longer-jiggling mounds, and she'd slid home safe. “The mountains never change, do they?” she said unexpectedly, pulling him from his thoughts. “Oh, trees grow and die to be replaced by new ones, but the mountains themselves are timeless.” “Yeah, I guess they are.” She glanced over at him. “You sound as if you don't agree.” “It's not that.” Turning his attention back to the road, he debated telling her what was on his mind. At one time, he didn't think there'd been anything they couldn't talk about, but a great deal had changed. He sighed and decided to try anyway. “I don't look at the woods now in the same way I did as a child. Acknowledging they're how I earn a living gives me a certain mind-set.” “But they still have a hold on you, don't they?” she asked. “Nothing's changed for you when it comes to that.” How little you know. “A lot has, Carlan, for both of us.” “Yeah, thanks to my brother.” He'd been thinking about his accident, not that he had any intention of bringing that up. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I just said I didn't want to talk about him, didn't I?” “It's all right. Anything you need to throw out there is fine with me.” Maybe. “Are you sure about that? There's a lot of baggage between us. The way things ended…” “Better then than after we'd gotten married,” he said, remembering his crazy, immature plans to give her an engagement ring right after high school graduation. “Good point.”

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Once more she turned toward him. This time she stayed that way, and her small hand wound up on top of his. Something sizzled deep inside him. So much for telling himself that his days of adolescent hormones were behind him. She was expecting a response. However, between the heat churning in the cab and more heat slipping from her hand to his, his mind went the next thing to stupid. In a few minutes they'd reach his trailer, with the double bed that dominated the small space. She'd probably want to take off her coat, and of course, so would he. After that— “Brett, can I ask you something?” “I guess.” “Have you ever wondered why neither of us got married?” “Probably for different reasons.” In a town the size of Prospect, even if people moved away, there was always someone who knew what they were up to. Her folks had kept him informed about her various jobs in the several cities she'd lived in, and he suspected her parents had brought her up to date about what he was doing, not that much changed over the years. Logging had owned him, plain and simple. “I guess. You've been happy, have you? Doing all right financially? I'm sorry. I have no right asking.” “I'm keeping a roof over my head, but Jake and I are never going to get rich, not that you don't know that.” Sighing, she took her hand off his and placed it in her lap. Not having her touching him settled his nerves a bit, just not enough. “That's one of the things I threw at you when I was trying to get you to take off for the bright lights with me, wasn't it?” she said. “I'm sorry. I had no right demeaning your career choice the way I did.” “You had your reasons. Your dad's situation, for one.”

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“I couldn't help it. Seeing him go from healthy, proud, and fulfilled to this bitter, pain-filled shell of a man after a tree tried to bury him pretty much defined my growing up.” “And that made it impossible for you to listen to me.” “Oh, I heard you,” she muttered. “I just didn't buy your insistence that the same thing wouldn't happen to you.” “Just like you couldn't guarantee what would happen to me if I followed in your dad's footsteps.” She didn't say anything after that. Damn it, why had he jumped into the middle of what had blown up around them? In fact, she had every reason to order him to turn around and take her back to her car. When she didn't, he vowed not to bring that up again, and not just because he didn't want to return to an ancient argument. She'd been right, damn her. His held-together leg was proof; that and certain things that kept running around inside his head. Note to self: Stay clear of that particular emotional land mine. Stick to safe subjects like wolves. Distracted, he nearly overshot the gravel one-lane road leading to the logging site. By hitting the brakes with more force than he'd intended, he managed to turn onto it, but his leg protested the sudden effort. In preparation for a bumpy ride, he tightened his hold on the steering wheel. Already, the highway had faded into the distance behind him. It was just him and Carlan and the wilderness. And maybe a predator pack of wolves.

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Chapter Four Even before she'd climbed the stairs leading to Brett's trailer, Carlan berated herself for bringing up their breakup. They could talk about any number of things, such as gasoline prices, the job market, how long the Democrats were going to be in control, how many reality shows constituted too many, whether they'd see the wolves again and what they really were. Anything but them. Instead she'd stepped into the past with two feet. It wasn't that she didn't trust him to handle the subject in a mature way. What she lacked decent control over was her reaction to him. There they were, two people with a common past that included sex in the cab of his first truck, more sex on the ground behind the gym on a night too cold for that particular activity, even more sex in her bedroom when her parents and brother were gone. The stumbling sex hadn't lasted that long, she reminded herself as she entered the masculine space of Brett's logging/on-site trailer, only during their senior year. But before everything had fallen apart, he'd been her world. She'd love him so much! More than she'd known it was possible to love. And along with that passion had come fear for his safety spawned by her dad's crippling logging accident. “It's not much,” he said from his position between her and the door. “I hope you didn't expect—” “I didn't.” You're alive and well; that's what matters. All my fears are for nothing. The storm was trying to hammer its way inside, prompting her to wonder why he hadn't closed the door. Rain had saturated everything near the door.

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He was no longer looking at her, and something about his stance propelled her to his side. Together, they stared at where they'd come from. Brett's truck, which was parked as close as possible to the trailer, blocked much of the view of the wilderness but not all. And there, to the left of the rig and just ahead of a bank of trees, stood the four wolves. “They're terrible, and beautiful,” she whispered. “Magnificent,” Brett answered, and she thought she detected a bit of awe in his voice. Thanks to the cab's heater, she'd stopped shivering, but although the trailer was equally warm, she now trembled. She thought he was too. She'd called the wolves beautiful, while he'd replied that they were magnificent. Both terms were right on. At the same time, they didn't do reality justice. The wolves represented everything primal in life. As pure predators, they engendered extreme emotions in people. In the past, those emotions had led to the wolves being hunted to extinction in most of the United States, but yet, beyond everything that made any kind of sense, a pack was here. Primal and primitive. Instinct and speed and killing machines. Capable of complex social relationships and deep commitment to each other. Thinking of everything wolves represented, everything they were capable of, everything they'd been accused of, she half believed she was slipping away from Brett and walking to where they waited for her. And why wouldn't they? After all, they accepted her. “Carlan, are you all right?” “What?” Brett's voice pulled her away from their compulsion. She wondered how she'd gotten the idea that they accepted her. “You're pale, like you might pass out.” “I can't help it.” “Why not?” “Do you have the courage to tell him about me?”

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No! she nearly screamed at her brother's voice inside her head. I want nothing to do with you! “Carlan.” Grabbing her shoulders, Brett pulled her so close, his breath heated her hair. “What's going on?” “Noth-thing.” “The hell it isn't. I'm going to shut the door. We can still watch them from the window.” Although she'd have to step aside in order for him to block out the storm, the task was beyond her, compelling him to guide her. Even when he released her, she continued to feel touched. More alive than she'd ever been. And deeply shaken. Instead of walking over to the window, though, she remained at Brett's side while a thousand memories swirled around her. Maybe as long as she concentrated on Brett, her brother would leave her alone. On a day when the wolves had shown themselves and she'd discovered that her brother's spirit still hung around, anything was possible. She might have told Brett what she was thinking if she didn't suddenly feel as if she was having a hot flash. Desperate to shed her heavy coat, she started unbuttoning it. The moment she pulled it off her shoulders, something, Brett's essence maybe, touched her. Wondering if he was aware of his impact on her, she stared up at him. Although he still wore his raincoat, he'd removed the hood, revealing dark hair plastered to his scalp. The years had been kind to his hair. As far as she could tell, it was as rich and thick as it had been back when she'd run her fingers through it whenever she could. As for his eyes, his beautifully deep eyes, tiny lines now bracketed them, and his gaze had taken on a depth that hadn't been there when they'd been so damn young. Maturity had a way of doing that, of course, but it seemed to her that more than the years were responsible. Maybe life had kicked Brett, just as it had her.

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Taking her coat from her, Brett draped it over the doorknob. Then he removed his own and hung it from a kitchen drawer handle. She should make a joke about how he needed to put up a clothesline, but that would have to wait until the energy stopped speeding through her. Feeling nearly as unsure as she had the first time she'd undressed for him, she half walked, half stumbled over to the window. Using her sweater sleeve to wipe off the condensation, she studied the wild world she'd once believed she'd relegated to her childhood. Rain pressed against the pines, making the branches droop. They made her think of countless old, tired men. In sharp contrast, the man beside her was anything but tired or old. “There they are,” he muttered. “They haven't moved.” Why not? she nearly asked but didn't, because on a level, so deep there was no reaching its roots, she knew they'd been looking for her. And not just her. Brett too. On the brink of telling him that, a shock slammed into her. It started at the top of her head but quickly spread outward. Her fingers tingled. At the same time, her arms became so heavy, she couldn't lift them. Her suddenly loglike legs were locked in place by knees that might give out at any moment. Yet despite the possibility she might collapse, she'd also become weightless. She could, given enough room and strength to accomplish it, spread her arms and take flight. Once she'd left the ground, she'd float and soar, her body pulling in yet more storm-spawned electrical charges. But even as she reveled in her weightless state, Carlan would struggle to return to where she'd left Brett. Without words to describe what she was experiencing, she'd wrap her body around his and hold him tight until the electricity snapped from her to him and back again. They wouldn't remove their clothes so much as the garments would catch fire and be reduced to cinders. Boldly naked, she'd lean back just long enough to drink in his physique before sliding her body against his.

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A long, low howl barely penetrated the fog she resided in. Only marginally aware of what she was doing, she rested her head on Brett's shoulder and took in the scent of damp clothing, wet hair, and man. He also smelled of something ancient, the land probably. Every line of his body had been carved by mountains, trees, and boulders. In short, he represented everything she'd driven away from at eighteen. Because of circumstances beyond her control, she hadn't been able to stay away after all, and he was back in her life again. At least for today. “We have to accept it,” he said. His words were quiet and calm, in contrast to the tension she sensed riding his muscles. “The wolves exist.” “They do for us,” she clarified. He muttered something that came from somewhere deep in his core, a combination of sound and vibration perhaps. Whatever it was lapped at her muscles and hardened her nipples. Not trying to stop herself, she slid her arm around his waist and spread her fingers over his side. Her head remained on his shoulder. Brett cleared his throat. “I'm sorry I didn't come see you last summer after Skye died,” he said. “You didn't stay long.” “I couldn't. My job—I tried to get my folks to visit me, but Dad said his back wasn't up to it. Although it was like pulling teeth trying to get them to talk, I called them almost every day after Skye's death, and I visited over the holidays. Then Dad had his stroke, and suddenly, my job didn't matter. I quit and packed up my belongings while he was still in the hospital. Now…” “Now you're here.” “Yes.” He executed a slow pivot in her direction. The shift might have been nothing more than his decision to get a better look at her, but she didn't think it was that simple. When he rested his hands on her shoulders, she was positive it wasn't.

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“I've often thought about you,” she admitted. “Wondering whether the risks of what I was doing had caught up to me, like you said they would.” Even with an uncomfortable silence hanging between them, she didn't go in search of anything to say, but then, how could she? Granted, time had left its impact on him, on both of them, but the years and separation hadn't changed the way she responded to him. He was sex, pure and unbridled sex. Yes, a brain and heart went with the work-carved body, but she didn't care. Flames danced over her skin. Heat pressed against the sides of her neck and over her breasts with even more pooling between her legs. A world apart from wanting to keep her vulnerability from him, she slid her fingers over his hip bones before reaching his waist and pressing her fingertips against his spine. At the same time, she rocked forward. The trapped mound that was his cock ground into her belly. “Damn you, Carlan.” “For what?” “Maybe for being you.” His hands spread over her buttocks, and he held her there with his cock all but bruising her and a thousand words no longer needing to be said. Sliding her hands over his ass, she met him strength for strength. Although her lips ached with loneliness, she didn't try to pull herself together enough to lift herself onto her toes and go in search of his mouth. Kisses were expressions of intimacy, while these moments and this place were all about sex. One of the wolves howled. The sound might be random or filled with meaning. Whatever the answer, it would have to wait. First and foremost came what was happening between her and Brett. Surrendering herself, she leaned into him until his strength flattened her breasts.

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Another wolf joined the first, the resultant sound stereophonic. It pulled her out of herself and helped her drift. Her body knew only Brett's presence, but her mind came alive with a thousand impressions. She'd had scant control over the compulsion that had brought her here today, had known only that the time of denying her emotions where her brother was concerned had to end. But instead of facing his essence, she'd let this man lead her away. He'd done more than that. In the space of a few seconds, she'd gone from taking in Brett's temporary home to throwing herself at him. Too deep in herself for fathoming how that had happened, she drank in the smell of wet clothing and male warmth. There was something beyond heady about his scent, size, and strength, an indefinable substance perhaps, and maybe her long months of celibacy and the role he'd played in her defining years said it all. And maybe the answer didn't matter. Limbs trembling, she ground herself against him. But no matter how much her hips swayed, it wasn't enough. She needed more than an embrace, more than her pelvis sealed to him and his arms locking her in place. If she could have, she would have crawled into his skin. They'd become one in ways that weren't possible with sex alone, their separate flames coming together and lifting higher, going further. “Damn you, Carlan.” “You already said that.” He rolled his knuckles over her spine, the pressure strong enough that she felt it all the way to her womb. “I can't think with you here like this.” “Do you want me gone?” “No.” Instead of leaning back and going in search of whatever message might be in his eyes, she rested her cheek against his chest. Doing so made her dizzy, and she listened to his heartbeat. His deep and rapid breathing carried

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messages a more calculating woman might have used to her advantage, but her own heart pounded, and she could barely keep enough air in her lungs. She had no idea what, if anything, she was looking at. Looking for. When her shoulders started aching, she ordered her muscles not to release him but to relax. Bit by bit, a little of her desperation slid out of her. She still wanted him, might always want him, but the sex didn't have to take place this moment. She'd wait, touching and caressing all the while. The thought had barely formed when her pussy clenched and moisture slickened her passage. A low animal-like sound rolled out of her. “What?” he asked. “I'm holding you too tight?” “No, no. I…I'm feeling overwhelmed.” “You aren't the only one. Believe me, this isn't why I asked you here.” “And holding and being held isn't why I came,” she said. “It's just that after everything I've been through lately, I didn't want to be alone.” “I didn't want that for you.” “So…so we're together. And a million things are going on in our lives.” “Yeah.” Something about his tone caught her attention, but she didn't know how to ask him to tell her what he was thinking about. “So,” she tried, “you and your brother have your own logging company. Given what's happened to the building trade, it's amazing that you're able to keep going.” “Staying small helps. That, and bidding on every Forest Service maintenance contract we think we can handle. A lot has changed since when I started out, and even more from the days when your dad was working in the woods.” “He doesn't talk about that. I don't know whether that's good or bad.” “Skye once told me he didn't want his son logging and that played heavily into Skye's decision to get on with Fish and Game.”

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“You never considered doing that, did you, even when I begged you to.” “I wanted to start making money right away, not wait until after college.” “Even if the risk—no, I'm not going to go there. That's history.” “Yes, it is.” Leaning forward, he touched his lips to her forehead. “No one can change the past. There's just the future.” “And the present, if you have the courage to grab it, sis.” “Leave me alone,” she ordered her brother's ghost. “I don't need you telling me how to run my life, not after what you did to yours.” “Then run it.” “I will, damn you. I will.” Pushing away from Brett, she sank to her knees, her hands gliding down Brett's thighs as she did. Groaning, he caught her soaked hair in both hands. Even if he'd anchored her head, she would have continued, but his hold was only a wordless communication. Feeling as if she might float forever in the world she found herself in, she wrapped her arms around his legs and rubbed her cheek against his cock. “This is what I want to do,” she told Skye. “Deal with it.” When she increased the pressure on Brett's cock, he groaned again, the sound even rawer than the first. Driven by the rumble racing throughout her system, she turned her head so she could press her other cheek against him. His fingers jerked. “Do you want me to stop?” she asked. “No. But why n—Are you sure this is what you want to do?” “I'm not sure of anything.” She spoke so that her breath washed over the trapped mound. “Neither do I.” Taking his words as approval, she lightly raked her teeth over taut, wet denim. Again and again, she ran her teeth along his contours. As long as his

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clothing was in place, she couldn't hurt him, couldn't touch him really. But even with impatience making her jaw ache and her pussy tighten repeatedly, she fought the beast this setting had spawned. She wasn't an animal, not yet. Despite the disjointed sounds of their breathing and tension threatening to snap her spine, a long and plaintive moan sped along her nerves. With as much of his cock in her mouth as she could manage, she acknowledged the other presence. “I don't understand what's happening,” she told her brother. “If you do, I need you to tell me.” “Live. Embrace the moment.” “Is a moment enough?” “Only you can answer that, you and him.” Not bothering to respond, she concentrated on what she was doing. She was on her knees inside Brett's trailer and trying to deal with the sexual tension demanding she take Brett's zipper tab between her teeth and pull down. But even as the zipper gave up its hold on his jeans, her brother's essence continued to press against her. Done with her first task, she tackled the button with fingers that had nearly forgotten how to work. With each moment, Brett dominated more of her world. “Damn, damn,” he hissed. He surrendered his hold on her hair only to press his fingers against her scalp. Much as she wanted to say the same, she didn't trust herself to try to speak. Maybe she'd forgotten how to make human sounds. Although his jeans still caressed his narrow hips, his cock now filled the gap she'd created. He wore plain white briefs, and dark male flesh pressed against the slit, prompting her to peel back the cotton and free him. Sucking in his breath, he started to rock away, prompting her to clamp her hands around his buttocks.

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“Please stay,” she begged. “I wasn't—” “Why is this happening?” Not waiting for the answer she knew wasn't there, Carlan ran a wet tongue over the mix of hard cock and satin flesh. A shudder rocked him. Oblivious to his fingers pressing against her scalp, she bathed every exposed inch of him. She might have lost courage if not for his cock's sweet, vulnerable skin. Turning her head this way and that, she licked its length and breadth, pausing at the tip and lapping at the drops that gathered there. Her damp licks came faster and faster. Her neck burned, and blood swelled the veins on her temple. They should have begun with a conversation about life's lessons and lumps followed by gentle touches, a companionable hug, perhaps. From there they'd move on to the touch of lips against lips, all civilized. Instead, here she was, crouched before a man she'd barely seen or spoken to in years, a man who'd recently seen her at her most vulnerable. Her head pulsing in time with her heartbeat, she stared at the first cock she'd touched and taken into her. “I don't know what I would have done if I hadn't run into you,” she admitted. “Maybe lose my mind.” “You're not that kind of woman.” “How do you know?” she asked, unable to take her eyes off what was deeply familiar and yet new. “We haven't so much as spoken in years.” “You always knew what you wanted to do with your life, live it to the fullest, beyond Prospect's narrow confines.” “I did say that, didn't I?” “A number of times. I didn't want you to leave.” “Just as I didn't want you to stay. That's what it all came down to, isn't it? Different goals.”

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“It was more complicated than that,” he muttered. “So complicated, we couldn't work through things.” “So we broke up.” “It took me a long time to get over you.” I'm not sure I ever did. Maybe that's why I never married. “I hated graduation night, knowing we weren't going to spend it together.” Giving up trying to focus, she again rocked forward. At the same time, she closed her thumb and forefinger around the hard ridge where his foreskin had once been, lifting and drawing his cock to the side. His breathing again raged, and he went back to using her hair as reins. Drinking in a great draught of the scent of precum, she lathed his vein-corded underside. Her tongue was no match for his steel, and she reveled in the difference. Rhythm came from a place she'd never been. She became tireless and insatiable. Hands roaming his buttocks and knees by turn, she bathed what she longed to bury deep inside herself. Dizzy didn't say the half of it, but even as her vision died and her nostrils flared, she fed off this sudden drunkenness. His essence was everywhere in her, her tongue satiated and still starving. She slurped and sucked, barely touched and plowed, and each time she did, her cheeks flamed, and her belly clenched. He kept making raw sounds, swaying and jerking by turn. Degree by degree, the interior heated. Her clothing abraded her skin, her bra clamping against her now too-big breasts. No matter how many times she twisted her hips about, her panty's crotch trapped her sex. Finally though, the strain on her knees demanded attention. Her mouth wide around his half-swallowed cock, she acknowledged the rough vinyl. For a few more moments, she held discomfort at bay while taking him deep and deeper yet, and although her head felt as if it might explode, she didn't give a damn. At the touch of cock against the back of her throat, she blinked away tears. Then she started to gag.

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Reluctantly freeing him, she tried to drop her head so she could concentrate on breathing, but he wouldn't let her. Her head immobilized by his grip on her hair, she stared at her flesh-colored world. “What?” she managed. “Any more of that, and I'm going to come.” A vision of him exploding, not in her mouth but all over her breasts, pulled her back into reality. Using his legs to brace herself, she planted her feet under her and stood, her knees creaking. “Like you did the first time?” she couldn't help asking. “Don't remind me.” “It's all right. I didn't know what to think or how to react, but we figured things out.” “We did, didn't we.” Carlan winced. “We thought we had, but we were wrong.”

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Chapter Five Wrong. The rain hadn't let up, and the wind had increased. But even as the storm attacked his trailer, and the wolves, maybe, continued their vigil, Brett wouldn't care if his temporary home was upended. How could something so inconsequential enter his mind, when his cock raged and his hands were all over Carlan, his mind full of what they'd been talking about. Already he'd wadded her sweater under her armpits and pushed her bra up over her breasts. Damn, but her breasts were fine, the areolae dark against pale cream. It didn't matter that he'd seen, fondled, and nibbled other breasts. Hers were the only ones he cared about, claimed all his attention. Half drowning in a swirl of emotion, he grabbed her around the waist and lifted her onto his high and too-narrow bed. Leaning forward, he lightly closed his teeth around a hard nipple. With it securely and gently trapped, he tongued what intruded into his mouth. “Oh shit, shit!” She started to place her arms behind her for support, only to surge forward and lock her hands around his shoulders. Although she trembled, her grip was strong. He couldn't bring anything into focus. His world became a swirl of stormy hues and a mind that refused to settle on anything. Fighting impatience, he reluctantly released Carlan's nub only to lay claim to the other. Taking hold of her thighs, he started to spread her legs, only to stop. Silently cursing her jeans, he tried to will himself to back off long enough to shed the rest of her clothes, but her taste had already reached the back of his throat. Opening his mouth farther, he drew in her sweet, swollen flesh.

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“Shit, oh shit.” Her nails dug into muscle, pressed against bone. A burning sensation lanced the fog he'd embraced. He no longer knew her. She'd changed from an innocent teen into an adult who'd recently lost her brother and shouldered responsibilities for her parents. Yes, at this moment she might want nothing more than what he was offering her, but once she'd been satisfied— “Aha!” By putting his full effort into it, he backed off so he no longer sucked on her breast. His lips slack around the breast, he lightly bathed her nipple, chuckling when she twisted and turned. By turn, he licked the underside, left and right, even along the top, much as she'd done to his cock. Not long ago she'd sat frozen, but now need kept her in constant movement. The scent of sweat touched his nostrils, but whether it came from her or him, he couldn't say. He wanted her under him, naked and slick with her own sweat, her pussy hot and wet. “She's my sister; don't ever forget that.” Shaken, Brett struggled to close his mind to anything except Carlan. “I'm trying to guide her to a truth about herself, one I hope will set her free. She deserves the truth from you as well.” “Go away,” Brett silently railed at what, beyond all logic, was Skye's voice. “Listen to me. If you don't tell her what's been going on inside you, the two of you don't stand a chance.” Unnerved, he lost his hold on Carlan's breast. “What?” She arched toward him. “Don't—please, don't stop.” Distracted and disbelieving, he lightly raked his teeth over the breast he'd been ignoring. She mewled. The grinding sensation in his belly spread down, taking his mind with it. No longer housing her breast, he claimed her shoulders and pushed so that she fell back onto the bed, her head turned toward him, and her sweater still bunched under her armpits.

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“There has to be more than sex between the two of you.” “Leave, damn you. Leave! You're dead.” “Am I?” Taking hold of the waistband of Carlan's jeans, he dispensed with both fastening and zipper in a single desperate move. Then he tugged the wet and sticky denim down over her hips. Inch by quick inch, he exposed her thighs and knees while she cupped her breasts and her head thrashed. Skye wasn't here; he wasn't! Impatience made him awkward, but he managed to pull off her tennis shoes without untying the laces. Her socks came next. Leaving her jeans clinging to her calves like rope bindings, he took hold of her ankles and lifted her legs, resting them against his left shoulder. She started. “What—” “What am I doing?” Sliding a hand under her equally wet panty, he pressed his thumb against her crotch. “What we both need.” “Shit, shit.” She thrashed her head back and forth on the bed. “You didn't used to curse,” he told her. “And you didn't used to manhandle me.” “That's what you think this is?” “I don't know anything, Brett,” she said and tightened her thighs around his hand. Wondering when he'd confess the same, he waited her out, waited for Skye. After a moment, the tension in Carlan's thigh muscles relaxed. His vision blurred again. Running his thumb under her panty's crotch, he stroked soft, swollen, hot, and damp flesh. There it was, that tiny, complex knot of flesh, the core and center of a woman's pleasure. Whether he went after it with determination or barely touched made little difference. One moment her clit was there waiting for him. The next, it disappeared within satiny folds. Claiming it became a game

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without rules, an instinctive dance. She gasped and jerked, tried to crawl away only to push herself against him. The cold moisture her jeans had deposited on her legs became warm under his hands, then slid into hot. Giving up trying to capture her clit, Brett turned his attention to her labia and the wet cave between them. After coating his forefinger in her cream, he parted her and slid in. Her breath snagged, then exploded. “You know me…so well,” she wailed. He'd have to tell her how wrong she was, but not now. Biting down on a moan, he went deeper. Her sex juices drenched his finger as her inner muscles closed around him. “Brett! You're killing me.” “You don't want—” “I want, I want!” Maybe it was the way her heels pressed against his shoulder that distracted him. Maybe his impatient cock was responsible. Either way, frustration slammed into him. Damn it, as long as her jeans roped her, there was no spreading her, no fully claiming and controlling. Drawing his fingers out of her, he started to lift her legs off him. “No! Please, don't tease me,” she begged. “That's the last thing I intend to do,” he told her, although maybe later, once the potent rush of need had been dealt with, he might take her down roads intended to bring her to the end of sanity. He'd love to hear her scream. Only her voice. The damnable wet denim resisted, but finally he'd untangled it enough that he was able to pull it off her feet. Her panty was a much easier matter, which left her nude from the waist down and her other garments all but useless. If it were him, he'd hate having a sweater wadded around him, which

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prompted him to lower her legs to the bed. Still cradling her breasts, she regarded him. Ignoring the questions in her eyes, he drew her hands off her and positioned her arms over her head. The loose and bulky sweater offered up no resistance, and in seconds, he'd tossed it aside. Deliberately not meeting her gaze, he reached behind her and unhooked her bra. Her sigh was a little thing, albeit long and deep, as she extended her arms toward him. Much as he wanted to draw out the final disrobing, he couldn't stop his fingers from claiming her bra and yanking. “Just like that,” she said, her hands fluttering. “Yeah, just like that,” he parroted. The words dispensed with, he again took hold of her ankles and lifted. This time, he planted one leg on each shoulder and spun her toward him, improving his view of her exposed sex. Her thigh muscles tightened and then relaxed. His intention, maybe, had been to continue what he'd tried to accomplish when he'd first plundered her, but before he could put his mind to spreading her even more, the voice returned. “I can't stop what's happening. This is between the two of you. But she deserves a whole man, not one running from his demons.” Should he tear himself away from Carlan? Confront what of Skye was here and insist that he didn't know what he was talking about? He couldn't, because Skye was right. “Brett, you're doing it again.” “I'm sorry. It's the last time.” Maybe. Dropping to his knees, he pulled her even closer. She reached for him, stopped. The earthy scent of an aroused woman penetrated every molecule of his being as he placed his head between her legs. Whining, she splayed her legs outward.

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Tongue wet and extended, he touched. Flesh like satin, like silk, like magic, gave way before his assault. He pushed her sex lips one way and then the other, sometimes separating them so he could bathe at her entrance, sometimes licking long and smooth while she dug her fingers into the sleeping bag that served as bedding. There was nothing human about what escaped her throat, and her cream was endless, challenging him to drink himself into a stupor. He slipped his tongue in. She jerked and might have wrenched free if he hadn't increased his hold on her hips. Once he was sure of his control, he went after her again. Curling his tongue, he ran its tip over the top of her pussy. She tried to press her buttocks into the bed, and her entire body shook. Wanting to both please her as much as possible and keep her off balance, he started to withdraw, only to extend his tongue to its full length and push in. “Oh, oh, oh!” She had a beautiful voice, strong and rough at the same time. He didn't believe there was any sound she could keep locked inside her. Propelled by the thought, he swiped here and there, reaching deep until his jaws ached, only to back off and fatten his tongue so it touched every inch of her channel. He was swimming inside her, taking her to the edge while risking the same himself. Thin, hot rivers of need carved their way through him to burn his muscles, but even as he stood at the edge of a climax, he forced himself to focus on her. His jaw ached, forcing him to shut his eyes and concentrate with his tongue settled along her length. Tiny shivers flickered through her, but he didn't believe she was climaxing. And if she was, he'd make it his mission in life to kick her up another notch. She needed and deserved to explode, to believe she was dying and not care, to rip free of anything that might constitute civilized behavior. Eyes open again but unseeing, he pulled out, drinking of her gifts as he did. Grabbing his hair, she tugged. “Not…not…”

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Ignoring what had no rational thought behind it, he again licked her from rear to front while she clawed and cried. Then he turned his head to the side and sucked a labium into his mouth. Bellowing, she bucked under him. Her thighs became vises against the sides of his head. Still he held on, rode with her through her moaning, crying, screaming climax. Her body moved in relentless waves. Yet despite the strength that threatened to crack his skull, he sensed her underlying weakness. She was his. He'd claimed her. For now.

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Chapter Six Feeling as if she'd been split apart, Carlan oozed into the sleeping bag. She had a measure of control over her upper body, but from the waist down, she likened herself to melted butter. Yet she became aware of a growing restlessness. Yes, she'd just climaxed, wonderfully so, but it had happened because Brett had manipulated her. Despite wondering if she was crazy for finding any fault with his approach, she rolled onto her side and propped herself up on her arm. Although she couldn't see out, her memory of the wolves remained vivid. “What?” Brett asked from where he stood a few feet away. “The way you're looking at me—” “Do you know why this is happening? Any of this.” She ran her hands from her throat to her crotch, lingering at her sensitive, hot, and wet flesh. Usually modest, she had no desire to reach for her clothes. “Do you want a flippant answer or the truth?” “I don't know,” she told him, summoning the strength to sit up. Grayblack clouds had turned the trailer's interior monochromatic, but that didn't stop her from sensing his tension. “I'm not sure we'll ever know,” he said, his hands bracketing his erection. “Some things are better left unexplored.” Like my emotions where my brother is concerned? “Maybe. Maybe not. But how will we know if we don't at least address—” “You want to do that now?”

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Alerted by equal amounts of confusion and disbelief in his voice, she focused her full attention on him. Where he'd stripped her naked, she'd left him partly clothed. Worse, she'd done nothing to resolve his sexual frustration. Not sure she could trust her legs to support her, she slid off the bed and planted herself in front of him. After taking a calming breath, she dropped to her knees but made no attempt to take his cock into her mouth. Instead, she undid his laces and pulled off his boots, followed by his socks, while he waited with his hands fisted. Next came his jeans and briefs. She was about to stand when his right thigh caught her attention. A number of scars marred it. In addition, a still-healing long scar ran down the side of his calf. His knee sported obvious signs of reconstructive surgery. Her hand less than steady, she lightly stroked his knee. What had he said, something about a minor mishap? “You have a rod in your leg there, don't you?” she said. “Yeah.” His brief but honest answer made her stop touching his leg. Hot bile rose in her throat. “How did it happen? Where?” “I'm not going to answer that now,” he said. Taking hold of her arms, he drew her to her feet. Or ever, she finished for him, sensing he'd shut himself off to any more prodding or questions. She might have told him that eventually she'd insist on learning everything, if his cock weren't now trapped between them and she hadn't wrapped her arms around his shoulders, his mouth mere inches from hers. Again feeling as if she were melting, Carlan parted her lips and leaned forward. As she did, her breasts brushed his flannel shirt, sensitizing her nipples into hard points. Wondering how she'd let the matter of finishing her task of stripping him slip her mind, she reluctantly released him and took on what should have been an easy job. But between the damp fabric and her impatient fingers, getting rid

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of the shirt and undershirt took too damn long. By then the letheragy brought on by her climax had slipped off into a place she might never find again. Growing hungry, she pressed her breasts against his muscled chest. No matter what had happened to his leg, the rest of his body looked perfect. He'd been modeled and shaped by a physical life. She'd grown up around men who made their living from the forest. As such, she'd taken a rugged existence for granted, something she'd gladly left behind as soon as she could. Only now she was back in that rugged world, in the arms of a man who had never wanted anything else. Today she fed off not just his physicality, but everything it represented. His mouth was soft, his lips barely parted. They kissed without her knowing how they'd gotten to that point, touching from breasts to thighs, and everything alive in between. She needed to start slow; otherwise, she might not have any more control over this than she'd had over her climax. But her nerves and muscles cried out, and she sensed the same in him. Kiss, just kiss. Slide my tongue out and run it over his mouth. Taste a bit, maybe explore a little. She'd been wrong. There was no just between them, no a bit, nothing resembling a little. Floating in something she didn't try to define, she examined the difference in texture between teeth and inner lip and met the wondrous challenge inherent in touching his tongue. She wanted so much. Hunger made her bold. And when she paused, thinking to regroup, he came after her. He didn't so much part her lips as plunder them, his invasion sure. After feeling more dead than alive since the day Skye had died, this renewal shook her in ways Carlan hadn't known were possible. His larger and stronger body didn't just tower over hers; it demanded. If it had been anyone else, she might have been afraid, but this was Brett, part of her childhood and an essential part of the journey she'd taken since then. His lips flattening hers, he snaked an arm around her waist and forced her against him. Off balance, she clung to his shoulders. Outside, the storm

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continued. She was becoming like the trailer, a slight weight helpless against Brett's greater size and strength. Maybe she should learn from the terrible lesson her brother had failed and break free, before it was too late. “No! Don't be afraid.” “Skye? What are you doing—” “Guiding you; trying to, anyway.” Desperate to free herself from the hammering in her head, Carlan dug her nails into Brett, her stance widening in invitation. He stepped into the space she'd created. She loved the press of his thighs against her, the strain in her back, his cock prodding her belly. Their mouths still together and their breathing quick and hard, she again floated. No longer did her legs anchor her to the ground. Instead, she levitated. At the same time, her pussy tightened repeatedly. Her creamed labia were hot and alive, demanding. A moan rolled up from somewhere deep, the sound naked and vulnerable. It died, only to be repeated by another primitive cry. She pushed her pelvis toward the man responsible. Even as her spine threatened to cramp, the press of his cock pulled her deeper into herself. She might not survive this! Might drown. “Don't think that! Whatever you do, don't go there.” “Skye, stop it.” “I can't.” “What is it?” Brett asked. “Nothing.” She shook her head, unable to acknowledge Skye's presence. “Nothing.” “Don't tell me that. Something—” “It's all so overwhelming,” she said, hoping to divert him. “Maybe you don't know what I'm talking about, but—” “Oh, I think I do.”

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It was the wolves' doing. If it weren't for the beasts, the two of them could fuck without their minds getting in the way. But what about her dead brother's voice inside her head? Before she could decide what, if anything, to tell Brett, he spun her around so her back was to him. One arm flattened her breasts and anchored her against him. Splaying his free hand over her belly, he pressed down until she half believed they'd reached her womb. Surrendering to the fantasy, she closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. He was so warm, warm and strong, strong and knowing. He massaged her belly with small, soft movements that weakened her and brought yet another moan to the surface. Sagging in his embrace, she kept her eyes shut. Unlike many of her city friends, she'd seldom indulged in a massage. Now she knew why. Whatever a masseuse did couldn't hold a candle to what Brett was accomplishing. Not only did the press of fingertips over the swell of her stomach travel to her core, he'd brought his heat with him. That flame met with her own, and they fed off each other, flames bursting high. “Oh God, oh God.” She was asking herself if she needed to claim responsibility for the cry, when his hand left her belly and slid lower. One maddening inch at a time, he worked his fingers through her pubic hair. His hand became a brush stroke. Obeying a primitive call, she widened her stance and thrust her pelvis forward. Awash in impatience and pleasure, she followed his every move. She loved the way he created no less than five paths in the softly curling thicket, the easy parting of sensitive hairs. Her arms ached, prompting her to reach behind her. Finding his hip bones, she closed down on them but held no illusion that she had any control over him. Not that she wanted any. Twitching sometimes, frequently sighing, she silently begged him to hurry. Finally, thank goodness, he cupped her mons.

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“You want this, don't you?” he said into her ear. “Need me laying claim again.” “Just…do it!” By turn, she pressed her backside against his cock, only to bow her spine and offer her sex to him. “I intend to,” Brett growled. “Hell, I have to.” She might have asked what he meant if his hold on her hadn't tightened. Captured, fully captured, she froze. Her mons became a burning coal, a heated mass. Belatedly, she acknowledged her knotted nipples, but although she longed to rub them against his arm, she couldn't think how to move. Only a few hours ago, surely no earlier than yesterday, she'd been in control of her life and world. So what had happened? Where had Brett come from, and how had she become his possession? As he continued to cradle her, simply cradle, she admitted what she didn't want to. Telling herself that she'd been in charge had been a lie. If it had been the truth, she wouldn't have come to The Gorge. “I want to have sex with you,” she muttered. “I know.” “Then…” “Then why aren't we? Maybe because I'm as overwhelmed as you are.” A man with a physically carved and conditioned body should be secure and confident, shouldn't he? But despite her need to see him as perfect, she couldn't shake her memory of that badly and recently scarred leg. “We aren't kids anymore,” she came up with. “No, we aren't. And we can't explain what's going on outside.” As if in response to his comment, a howl slipped through the metal walls. Although it faded away, remnants of the sound remained. That, coupled with Brett's hand near her cunt, became her new reality. No matter what responsibilities awaited her back at her parents' place, this was her present.

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Before she could agree with him, his fingers went on the move again. Swamped by anticipation, she rotated her knees outward. The mental image of how she'd splayed herself for this man from her past made her shudder, but it was too late to take back her dignity and personal space, too late to remember who she'd been before he'd walked back into her world. Sex juices leaking from her, Carlan stepped away from the wanton woman she'd become and mentally studied herself. Her mouth was open, her eyes glassy and nostrils flared. Red blotches highlighted her cheeks and throat, and her breasts had never been this swollen or her nipples so dark and hard. Then Brett slid a finger into her, and nothing else mattered. The invasion lasted only a few seconds, but she knew he'd repeat, and the waiting became her world. Both all too soon and not soon enough, he entered her again, his forefinger sliding over slick surfaces. She needed this easy controlling of her body, the confident invasion. Brett knew her in ways she didn't know herself. Either that, or he'd taken her to where self-determination no longer mattered. Her cunt belonged to him. Whether he demanded surrender or slipped in didn't matter, because she kept herself open to and for him, shaking and floating at the same time. Her nails occasionally dug into his hips, but even when her fingers threatened to cramp and his breath rasped, she couldn't begin to pull herself together. Brett had housed part of himself deep inside her and with that had become her everything. She swayed, moaned, and swayed again, while the storm attacked their shelter. She had no doubt that the wolves kept their vigil.

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Chapter Seven Hungry, she turned in Brett's arms, even though doing so robbed her pussy of his presence. Standing on her toes, she struggled to align herself with his cock, but the difference between their heights was too great. Just the same, she offered herself up to him. “I don't want you here,” she told Skye. “This has nothing to do with you.” “Doesn't it?” “You're sure?” Brett asked. “You're ready for this?” “There's nothing I'm sure of, but I'm as ready as I've ever been.” He went still, prompting her to slide a hand between their sweaty bodies and run her fingers over the base of his shaft. He jerked, and his breath rasped. “I'm not going to be able to hold back,” he muttered. “I don't want you to.” “I can't think about you, bro.” “I know.” On a groan, Brett took hold of her waist and pushed her off him. Then, lifting her up and back at the same time, he deposited her on the bed again. Her legs dangled over the edge. Before she fully comprehended what had just happened, he pushed her knees apart and tugged her toward him so that she was barely balanced. Gripping his shoulders, she steadied herself. Then she tilted her pelvis toward him. His eyes slid from dark to black, and he took hold of his cock and aimed it at her opening. Any other bed would have been too low to the ground, but this one had been placed on top of some storage drawers. As a consequence, he slipped in as easily as if they'd done this a thousand times. He more than filled

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her; he completed her. Sucking at air, Carlan willed her pussy muscles to relax. Unbelievably sensitive nerves telegraphed his journey. Locked in a world that revolved around what was happening to her cunt, she marveled at his size, texture, even his shape. Brett's cock demanded and took, allowed no resistance. It had one goal and mission: to skewer her. “Hmm, hmm.” The sound was primitive and small, flowing from a woman in over her head who nevertheless couldn't fathom wanting anything else. He was in all the way now with his balls pressing against her, his potent body arching toward her, and his hands hard on her thighs. Years of supporting herself had matured her. She took pride in managing her life and making her own decisions, or rather, she had until this afternoon. Now she could barely remember what all that pride and independence had been about. His cock became her world. Between the pressure against her inner walls and the way he loomed over her, she barely heard the rain. Still, something resonated in her, not a rhythm or beat, perhaps a pulse. She swayed in time with it. The pulse, if that's what it was, seemed centered in her pussy. From there it radiated up and out and swam through her veins. Brett started moving. She couldn't call what he was doing thrusting or even fucking. Instead, he seemed to be dancing to a tune only he could hear. Not long ago, he'd told her he didn't trust his self-control, but there was nothing frantic about the slow, silken slide of cock against pussy. Each forward push was long and sweet, languid even. As such she easily kept pace, her response under control. They could make love like this for hours. Why? Wouldn't it be more exciting to match the pace of this thing called fucking with the rain and wind? Torn between the options that, in truth, were out of her hands, she picked up his beat. She felt as if she were on horseback, moving over a level plain at a smooth and leisurely lope. Her mount flowed under and inside her. The horse

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was tireless and wise in the ways of this land they were on. It could go on forever, taking pleasure in the easy pace. Granted, there'd be no climax, but as long as small electrical charges fired her muscles and nerves, she was content. Then growing heat throughout her made a lie of what she'd just told herself. Acknowledging the fire, she opened her eyes and gazed up at Brett. His mouth was twisted to the side, the veins at the sides of his neck swollen. Even as he rocked and rolled in halftime, she pulled back from herself so she could concentrate on him. She'd been wrong to liken him to a lazy pony, when he closely resembled a stallion fighting the rage of hormones. She was being ridden by a stallion, a woman skewered by a beast interested in only one thing: fucking. The reason behind his pacing didn't matter; it no longer contented her. Tightening her sex muscles, she leaned forward and increased her hold on his neck. That accomplished, she rubbed her breasts against his chest. His movement stopped. “What?” she asked. “Lost my concentration.” “So did I.” “What about logic or sanity?” Although she should admit she'd lost touch with both, she had no interest in speaking. Her nipples barely brushed him, the slight sensations running like an unending chill through her. Relinquishing his hold on her hips, he slid a hand over her thigh and squeezed her knee. After another squeeze, he began a slow journey along her inner thigh. Tearing her attention off his face, she studied what he was doing. Just the same, she didn't see it coming when he worked a finger between their sealed bodies. For a while, he let his finger rest there, doing nothing, promising nothing. Then he started to withdraw it, only to change direction. His fingertip now pressed against her labia. “You're wet,” he muttered. “Something you're trying to tell me?”

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“You know damn well what—” “Just trying to lighten the mood a bit.” With that, he plowed into her. Shoved back by his strength, she released his neck and braced her arms behind her. One, maybe two seconds later, she understood why he'd done what he had. She wasn't just off balance. Now there wasn't a thing she could do to escape him. Her feet had been dangling, but she found something, part of the underbed drawers maybe, to anchor her toes against. That done, she lifted her buttocks a scant inch off the sleeping bag. By leaning back even more, she further opened herself to him, presented herself as the bitch in heat she'd become. Fuck me, fuck me, chanted through her. Taking the crude words as her battle cry, she clamped down on the male invasion. He groaned, then gathered his muscles and rammed into her. Her pussy walls wept and burned. With her now willing and weak, he lost no time reaching a crescendo of movement that tossed his hair and made the veins on the sides of his neck stand out. His groans became grunts, followed by animal sounds. Advance became retreat followed by advance, the pistoning movements coming faster than she could keep up with. Still she tightened and released her pussy muscles in response to his attack, while burying herself in her own rhythm. Fired by the rapidly approaching goal line, she threw off all caution. Sweat plastered her throat, and a fine trickle ran between her wildly gyrating breasts. Her inner thighs stuck to him. A slap-slapping sound stood as testament to his driving power as did his harsh breaths. She tried to focus on his expression, but her mind kept skittering away to concentrate on what was taking place within her own body. She'd gone past the point of no return. Only the end remained, an end as wild and strong as it must be to ride an ocean wave. An ocean wave? Here in the middle of the woods? Before she could decide how she might wed the two, she started to split apart. With no awareness beyond surviving and relishing the tearing, ripping

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sensation, she dived fully into the heat that was her explosion. She became a rag doll trapped in a wolf's fangs and being tossed about. The shaking seemed to last forever and yet, be over in a heartbeat. Between beginning and end, she lived a thousand lives, all of them centered around one thing: her climax. Oh God, yes, climaxing! Everything loose and hot and swirling, gasping and moaning at the same time. She was still shaking and being shaken when he abruptly pulled out. “What—” “Ah!” he groaned. “Ah, ah!” A wash of hot cum coated her belly. Some ran down her side. Lifting a tooheavy arm, she swirled her fingers in his gift and spread it over herself. Looming over her, he fairly howled. And when he had nothing left to give her, she placed a finger in her mouth and sucked. “I didn't have a condom,” he explained. “That's why I pulled out.” “It never occurred to—Thank you.”

When he'd climbed onto the narrow bed, Carlan had made room for him. She'd curled onto her side with her breasts and belly pressed to his side and his arm serving as her pillow. Maybe he'd dozed off, because he didn't remember anything until, muttering, she sat up. “What?” he managed. “I have to go to the bathroom.” By the time she returned from the closet-size bathroom, he was sitting up, debating turning on a light against the gloom and telling himself there wasn't a third presence in here. Faint water droplets on her belly told him she'd cleaned his cum off her. Doing so was a logical act by a logical woman. Still, he wondered if it might be symbolic of something larger, like a return to sanity, at least on her part.

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Instead of returning to him, she leaned against the bathroom door she'd just closed. She didn't seem to know what to do with her hands, prompting him to look around for her clothes. “It's all right,” she said, as if reading his mind. “Kind of too late for modesty, isn't it?” “I guess.” “You guess? Don't you know—Why am I asking you for an explanation?” She sighed and brushed her hair back from her face. “Brett?” “What?” “I'm not—” Pressing a hand to her forehead, Carlan glanced down at the floor, then up at him. “Maybe it doesn't matter, but I want you to know I'm not that kind of a woman. I've never jumped in the sack with a stranger.” “We aren't strangers.” “We haven't seen each other for years.” My fault. You've been back for weeks. “What are you getting at?” “I don't know.” She ran a hand over her eyes. “That's it. I honestly don't know.” Maybe he should have said the same thing. Instead, he stood and, after she stepped aside, went into the bathroom. By the time he returned, she'd dressed, all except for her shoes. Even with her hair sex-tangled, she'd become a mature woman, no longer the wild creature he'd fucked. Looking at her, he was hard-pressed to remember how their paths had crossed today. “You didn't want to talk about it earlier,” he said, reaching for his briefs. “What about now? What brought you out on this damnable miserable day? Details, not just a few words.” “You want to hear—” “I think I need to.” She again fixed her gaze on the floor. “I didn't have time before to come to The Gorge, what with everything I've been doing for my folks.”

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“I'm so sorry about that.” He slipped into his briefs and, feeling less vulnerable, picked up his wet jeans. “Did you need to see the spot where…” “Damn it, Brett, what does it matter?” She was right. Whatever her motivation, it wasn't his business any more than his reason for not coming to see her earlier wasn't hers. He might have believed his stupid argument, if not for her clenching and unclenching fingers. “Because you're tied up in knots.” “Can you blame me?” Still avoiding his gaze, she stepped over to the front door and gripped the knob. “My dad's stroke on top of what happened to Skye has been pretty overwhelming.” Opening one of the drawers under his bed, he pulled out a dry pair of jeans. “He's pretty much paralyzed on one side, isn't he?” In much worse shape than me. She looked back at him, and her gaze dropped to his leg, then back to his face. “And confused and depressed. Mom's blood pressure isn't good, and she's having trouble with her hips. Unfortunately, her insurance won't cover replacement.” The way she held on to the knob, he wondered if she'd collapse without its support. “Sometimes, when things go bad, they really go bad. I haven't checked out every possibility yet, but I don't see them being able to stay in their place.” Carlan's parents lived in a small, two-story house that had to be eighty years old. The last time he'd driven by it, Brett had noticed that the roof needed replacing. There was no handicap ramp, but even if there were, the bedrooms were upstairs, which was far from ideal for a man who had to struggle to walk and a woman in just about the same shape. “Could you put in one of those electric lift things that go up stairs?” “I thought about it, but the house needs so much work. Either that, or a bulldozer. And they're nowhere near medical facilities.”

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Remembering the hours it had taken for an ambulance to reach him after his leg had been smashed, he couldn't argue. “So you're thinking you'll have to move them into the valley? How do they feel about it?” A shadow stole over her features. She didn't look older so much as deeply tired, overwhelmed maybe. “They're resisting. At the same time, they're leaning on me to make all the decisions.” Again she pressed a hand over her eyes. “Role reversal in spades. No wonder I jumped at the chance for a little roll in the hay today. I do appreciate the, what should I call it, change of pace?” He couldn't fault her for trying to lighten the conversation. Still, that wouldn't solve anything. After jamming his legs into his jeans and hauling them up and over his hips, he started toward her. If she asked what he had in mind, he wasn't sure he could answer. “The storm's letting up,” she blurted. Twisting the knob, she opened the door. “I need to get back. My parents—” A gust of cold and sodden air charged into the trailer. She'd already turned from him and was staring at their rain-washed surroundings. Suddenly, her spine stiffened. Joining her, Brett bumped his hip against hers, prompting her to make room for him in the entrance. With every second, his chest lost more heat. Her bare feet must already be numb. This time, only one wolf was visible, standing between the closest trees and the trailer. It was staring at them. Droplets from what remained of the rain slid off its sides and muzzle. “This is between Carlan and me,” the wolf said. “Don't try to stop her.” “Brett?” Carlan whispered. Although he longed to clutch her to him, something held him back. “What?” “The wolf's eyes…”

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“What about them?” Her tension was a living thing. Maybe a touch from him would bring her back to reality, but he didn't want to distract her. Besides, he'd been warned to step aside. “They're Skye's.” “We're too far from it for you to say that.” “I know what I know!” While he stood in the entryway trying to wrap his mind around what she was doing, she stepped barefoot onto the top step. She wasn't shivering so much as trembling, which reminded him of her response while she'd climaxed, but what was happening to her right now had nothing to do with sex. Staring at her, he half believed he was going to lose her, the wolf's control over her was that powerful. She swayed, leaning forward at times only to rock back, as if trying to break free of something. Much as he longed to drag her back, he sensed only she could fight this battle. “Don't hurt her,” he told the creature that defied description. “Whatever happens, leave her intact.” “What do you know about having it all together?” “You had no right!” Carlan screamed before he could respond. Every bit of her being was intent on the wolf now stalking toward her. “No goddamn right, letting yourself get killed! I needed you, bro. I needed you back when the river took you, and I need you even more now!” “I'm here.”

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Chapter Eight For too long, Carlan couldn't do anything except stare at the magnificent and frightening creature with her brother's rich brown eyes. In ways that went beyond comprehension, she knew she'd been waiting for this from the moment she'd learned of Skye's death. What he was doing in this animal form was beyond her comprehension, but she could no more deny it than she could think about putting on shoes. “I've been waiting for you,” came the now-familiar voice in her head—her dead brother's voice. “Why?” “Because you deserve it.” “You're damned right, I do. I hate you!” she yelled. “Absolutely hate you! How you could be so damnably stupid to—What did you think you were, invincible? Well, you weren't, were you? And it cost you your life.” “I'm sorry.” “Are you apologizing?” she demanded. “No, I don't want to hear it! You didn't have to—Damn it, you knew better!” “Yes, I did.” “Then why—” “A moment of inattention, a wrong decision. That's part of what I'm sorry about, that I don't have a better explanation.” “The witnesses said you were showing off for the woman you were with by jumping from lava to lava. You lost your footing and landed in the river. The…the last time anyone saw you alive, you were caught in the current and

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heading for The Gorge. My God, Skye, you grew up around the river. If anyone should know how dangerous—” “It was late summer, and the water level was as low as it gets. The lava was exposed and dry. I had a walking stick to help balance myself. I figured I was safe.” Aileen, the woman who'd been with Skye on that nightmare day, had told authorities she hadn't objected because Skye had insisted he knew what he was doing. It had been a perfect day, warm and calm, with other people around, some of them venturing into the river's shallow edges. At that spot, the ground was nearly level, which meant there wasn't much of a current. Only Skye had headed toward the middle, where the water was deepest and swiftest. And only Skye had leaned on a dried tree branch while stepping from one chunk of lava to the next, only to have the branch break. “You thought you were safe?” Carlan gave a short, deprecating laugh. “Guess you were wrong.” “As wrong as it gets.” She was talking to a wolf, and yet she wasn't, communicating with her brother—only that couldn't be, because he was dead. Maybe everything was taking place in her imagination, her sick and wounded mind. “I know what you're thinking, that I don't exist anymore.” On the verge of hitting Skye with more of her anger and grief, Carlan shook her head. Her body reminded her that Brett was watching from his trailer and listening to her side of the so-called conversation, but she couldn't tear her gaze off the Skye-eyed predator long enough to look back at the man she'd just had sex with. To ask if he could hear Skye as well. “I don't know what you mean by exist,” she said. “Nothing that's happened today makes sense.”

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“I felt the same way when I first realized what form I'm in now. The body I took for granted is gone, but my mind is still alive—for how long, I don't know. Sis, I never meant to hurt you or our folks. Please believe that.” “Do you know what happened to them?” “Dad's stroke and the arthritis in Mom's hips and you having to quit your job and move back home to care for them—if that's what you mean, then yes. I can't leave the forest, Carlan. I try, but something keeps me here with the rest of my kind. The wolves. Still, I'm aware of what's happening to those I love. It's been hell for Aileen.” “She and I spoke briefly at your funeral. Bro, I needed to hear you say you love us.” “You doubted that?” “No, not really. It's just—I lost my big brother, my buddy, the bane of my existence. Our parents lost their son, the child who was going to carry on their name. A woman you must have cared about had to watch you die.” “Yes.” “How does that make you feel?” “How do you think?” “Horrible,” she whispered. “Full of regret and loss.” “You do know me.” “Do you think—Is this”—she drew an imaginary line around Skye's wolf body—“your punishment?” “I'm not sure about punishment. All I know is, I want to do everything I can to try to make amends.” “How?” “Ask Jake and Sarah. They wouldn't have found each other without us.” “My God,” Brett blurted. “That's why the wolves—”

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“Why we were part of what happened between Jake and Sarah last winter, yes.” Remembering what Brett had said about wolves being in the woods during the storm that had brought Jake and Sarah together, she again looked back at him. Naked from the waist up, he extended a hand toward her but remained where he was. “We?” she said to Skye. “You were part of the pack?” “They're part of me. Even now, they're watching and listening. Sis, introducing Jake to the right woman was part of my attempt to make up for my stupidity. I knew Jake all my life. He was good to our folks.” “Yes, he was.” Carlan chewed on her lip, thinking. “Skye, you forced me to come to The Gorge to relive your accident. How does that make things right for me?” “Only you know whether you're better now than you were this morning.” “You're asking too much of me,” she snapped, even as her body handed her hot memories of the time she'd spent with Brett. “Carlan, I didn't want this for any of you.” “I know you didn't,” she said, meaning it. “Not any more than you wanted to die.” “Am I dead, really?” Her brother sounded lost and confused, a boy again. Not thinking what she was doing, she stepped forward, reached out, and touched the space between the wolf's eyes. A low rumble rolled out of the predator. “I don't know,” she admitted, putting distance between them again. “I don't know much about reincarnation. But you're being robbed of the peace that comes with death, aren't you?” “It doesn't matter. You're what concerns me. Are you going to be all right?” “Carlan?” Brett said from his spot in the doorway. “You're freezing.” “It doesn't matter.”

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She was still staring into her brother's eyes, at the man trapped in a wolf's body, when Brett joined her and slipped a jacket over her shoulders. Her feet had lost feeling, not that it mattered. “My brother's in there,” she whispered. “That's not a wolf, not really.” “I know.” “You could hear—” “Everything both of you said, yes.” He wrapped an arm around her but didn't pull her against him. The wolf that was her brother acknowledged Brett with a nod. “He wants you to heal emotionally. That's what this is all about.” “Is it really that simple?” Brett didn't answer, prompting her to press her fingers against his thigh. He drew in a deep breath. “What?” she asked. More silence followed. “Tell her.” “Tell me what?” she asked Brett in response to Skye's wordless command. “Today's about you,” Brett muttered. “Not me.” “You're wrong.” “Stop it!” Brett exclaimed, startling her. Leaning away, she stared at this man she'd given her body to. “Stop what? And what is Skye saying you're wrong about?” Instead of answering, Brett released her and stepped back. Although the distance between them frightened her, she forced herself to remain where she was. Hands rammed in his pockets and goose bumps on his chest, Brett started to walk away from her and the wolf, only to turn and face the predator head-on. “How did you know?” he demanded, his tone harsh and hollow. “A lot of reasons. Brett, I saw your accident.” “You couldn't—”

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“Yes. I could. Don't block yourself off from what I'm trying to tell you. Brett, just before I died, I experienced what you did.” “You had time for—” Brett started. “For fear and pain, yes.” “Brett?” she said. “What is he talking about?” Brett's rapid breathing reminded her of the wind that had accompanied the rain. “About why I haven't visited your father since his stroke.” “My father?” Confusion clouded her voice. The wolf was dividing his attention between her and Brett, his too-human eyes alive with emotions she needed to understand. If she'd been closer, she would have wrapped her arms around the powerful neck and held on as tight as she could. “I didn't want to see him helpless,” Brett muttered. “Do you think I want to?” “It's not the same.” “Of course it isn't. He's my father, not yours.” “But what happened to him…” Brett's hands were still in his pockets, and the way he stared at the wolf made her wonder if he hated the predator that wasn't one. “Don't stop now. She deserves the truth, and you need it.” “Let it go!” Brett demanded of Skye. “Do you really want me to?” Carlan felt herself slipping back in time to the night she'd told Brett that his career choice terrified her. She'd been putting things off for weeks while the storm of their lovemaking dominated her world, but each day, when she left Brett and returned home to watch her father struggle to function despite his long-ruined back, she'd had to face the possibility that the same might happen

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to the young man she loved. Logging wasn't just what Prospect boys did if they stayed in the area. It was also one of the most dangerous jobs in the country. She'd begged him to join her in exploring the world beyond the trees and mountains, but the wilderness's hold on him had been greater than hers. Turning his back on the wolf, Brett focused on her. “He's right. There won't be anything except sex between us unless I tell you, and the sex won't last.” His chest rose and fell. “The day of my accident, I had to face that I might lose my leg, even my life. It came close.” “My God.” “Yeah.” “Where did it happen?” “In the woods. I'd been logging.” “No.” Carlan lifted a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my God, no.” “Yes.” Pulling his hand from his pocket, Brett rubbed his forehead. “Lying there on the ground, I kept staring at my leg, trying to reconcile myself to the worst. More scared than I knew it was possible to be. Wishing I were anywhere but where I was.” “I'm so sorry.” “How do you feel, knowing I wasn't a macho man but a scared and hurting kid?” His self-disgust blindsided her. “Brett, Dad's accident was the defining moment of my childhood. I understand what it means to be crippled. Why do you think the thought of something like that happening to you scared me so much?” “But you couldn't live my life for me. I know that now.” He rubbed his leg. “There's something else, something I've never shared with anyone. Least of all Jake.” “What does your brother—”

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“Carlan, you aren't the only one who railed and raged. Your anger was aimed at your brother, mine was at both myself and my brother.” Eyes pressed closed against the heat in them, she waited Brett out. As she did, her breasts, belly, and crotch spoke to her. No man would ever mean as much to her as Brett did. In fact, at the moment, she was barely aware of the wolf's presence. “Doesn't make much sense, does it?” Brett asked. “No more than your outburst against Skye.” “Maybe not. Maybe.” “I think I know what you're saying. Everything had backed up inside you, and you had to let it out. Even though he was dead, you wanted Skye to know what you've been going through.” “I guess,” she muttered, opening her eyes. “No 'guess' to it. It's an honest emotion. Isn't it, Skye?” The wolf nodded his solid head. “When I had my accident,” Brett went on, “it was just Jake and me in the woods. We were working on the side of a steep hill: his idea. I'd tried to convince him we should wait until there was no wind before clearing that particular spot. Hell, we fought over it, but he insisted that because we could get our machinery in close, it made sense. A-lot-of-money sense. Besides, it wasn't as if we hadn't ever worked in those conditions.” “Jake pushed you to—” Brett ignored her and kept talking. “In the end, I agreed because we had bills to pay. I'd cut through this widow-maker and—” “Widow-maker?” “A tree with a trunk that branches near the top. Hard to judge which way those suckers are going to fall. I was getting the hell out of there when it twisted crazy going down. Maybe the wind was responsible; I don't know. It tipped toward me instead of the way I'd planned. I couldn't run fast enough.”

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Anyone simply listening to Brett might not catch the emotion behind his words, but she knew him in ways she was still coming to grips with. He was reliving his nightmare. “You could have been killed.” “I wound up trapped under that mother. Scared…scared shitless. And furious at everything that had happened. If Jake hadn't been there—He bucked the tree up into sections and then lifted the one on my leg off me. Took forever.” Oh God. “So, in addition to the weight on your broken bones, you felt the vibrations as Jake cut. And time passed.” A profound silence wrapped itself around them. The pain must have been incredible, but what choice did either brother have? No more than Skye had had, once the river had him in its grip. “Is that why you cussed Jake?” “That, and a million other reasons. I was trapped for hours. Determined not to let Jake know how much I didn't want this to be happening, same as him. I didn't let go until I was out of the hospital. It nearly did me in, because I had no business driving so soon, but I went back to where the accident happened and took an ax to the ground. Pulverized it. Called my brother every name I could think of, blamed him until I'd gotten it out of my system. Then I turned around and blamed myself.” His eyes had turned so dark, she couldn't begin to see the bottom of them. “If I hadn't blamed Skye the way I did, would you have told me what you just did?” She didn't expect him to rush his response. In fact, she wasn't sure she was going to get one. Just the same, one silent minute piled on top of another until she was afraid they wouldn't end. Finally, he sighed. “I want to say 'probably not,' but that doesn't say the half of it. There's been this huge logjam of emotion inside me. Shit I didn't know how to deal with.” “Tell him what you're thinking,” Skye silently begged her. “And tell me.” “Logjam?” she said when she could speak. “A shitload of emotion. Yes, that's how it felt for me.”

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If anything, Brett's gaze intensified. “Feelings so bottled up, you couldn't make sense of them?” “Don't hold anything back, please.” “It's been like that ever since Skye died.” She wasn't sure who she was talking to, maybe both her brother and lover. “Then today…today everything broke free.” Her mouth sagging, she stared at the wolf, who stared back at her with Skye's eyes. “You were ready to throw your anger at him,” Brett said. “Because he made me.” “Made or paved the way?” “I don't know.” “Don't you?” Brett was right. Just looking at the wolf convinced her, left no doubt that what of Skye resided inside had brought her here today. “Thank you,” she told her brother. “For freeing me.” “All I could do was be here. You had to make it happen.” “He's right,” Brett said. He took her hand, then turned so they both faced the creature capable of killing them. “You're the one who had the breakthrough.” Breakthrough. Freedom. “What about you?” she asked Brett. “Do you think Skye put that ax in your hand?” By the set of his mouth, she wondered if she'd have to weather another of his silences. Instead, he slowly nodded. “Something got me behind the wheel of my truck, despite the pain. Something planted my feet under me and controlled my legs while I hobbled to where it happened. And something was there when—” “Something?” “I didn't see anything, but there was a presence.”

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“Not just me, my companions as well.” Shuddering, Carlan looked around. But if the other wolves were there, she couldn't see them. “It's all right,” Brett said. “You're safe. We both are, aren't we, Skye?” “Yes.” As the single word swirled around her, Brett drew her into his embrace and pressed his mouth against her forehead. When she looked up, he parted his lips. Alive in ways she couldn't remember ever being, she answered his wordless message. Their kiss started easy but deepened. A warm shudder slid over and though her. She wanted one thing out of life: Brett, his mind and body. Desperate to let him know, she slipped her arms around his waist and pressed herself to him. Yes, he was aroused. The same as her. “Sis? Am I forgiven?” Pushing back from Brett's embrace took all her strength and will. Looking at the creature that was all she had left of her brother brought tears to her eyes and compelled her to tightly grip Brett. “Of course you are. Skye, does that mean you're free? You can—You no longer have to exist in this body?” “My job isn't finished. Neither is yours.” “What are you talking about, my job?” she asked. “Not just yours, both of ours,” Brett said. “Honey, there are a lot of decisions to be made. We have to determine what's best for your parents, and what you're going to do once they're safe and cared for. Then there's me, my future.” “Whether you're going to continue to log, you mean?” The way her heart hammered, she wasn't sure either Brett or Skye could hear her question. “Yes.” Once she'd seen Brett's career in black-and-white. Either he walked away from the inherent danger or she'd walk away from him. Now, wiser than she'd

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ever believed she'd have to be, she understood it wasn't that simple. But whatever the decision, they'd reach it together. A sigh she hadn't heard for too long tore her attention from Brett. Looking at the wolf, she slipped past the outer package to the brother she'd grown up with. That had been Skye's sigh, the soft and deep sound he'd always made when the world pressed in on him. “I don't want this for you.” Sorrow clogged her throat, and if Brett hadn't increased his hold on her, she wouldn't have been able to go on. “I want you to find peace.” “I want the same thing.” Ears perked forward, he stared into the woods. “I'm not alone. My companions—” “Who are they?” Brett asked. His tone gentle and strong, it rubbed her nerve endings and awakened places only he had ever touched. “Others like me. Those who still have work in this world to do.” She waited for Skye to say more. Instead, he started toward where he'd been looking. Just before disappearing into the trees, he turned toward her, and for a moment she saw not a predator, but her brother. Whole and strong. “Carlan?” Brett whispered. “I saw. Are you all right?” Blinded by tears, she pressed her cheek against his chest. “I am now.”

Other Loose Id® Titles by Vonna Harper Devil Man Storm Howl Cougar's Captive Fear Galen's Pet Midnight Soldier

Vonna Harper Mild-mannered, mostly harmless, with out-of-control imagination. Loves mountains, early morning walks, her grandchildren, and “hot” books. Has no marketable skills beyond writing which is no problem because there's nothing else she'd rather do. The product of the ultimate in a rural upbringing, Vonna has no interest in cities or panty-hose, but is passionate about plant nurseries and baseball. She's had over fifty books published, all but one fiction. Visit Vonna on the Web at http://www.vonnaharper.com.