Dani Harper - Storm Warrior

The mastiff must have a similar compulsion. Why he chose to follow the tour bus around, Morgan couldn’t imagine. Maybe the bigger the dog, the bigger the object of its obsession. She’d already checked with the bus driver, but the man was new and had never seen the animal before. The young tour guide was no help either. Thank goodness there were just a handful of miles between towns in this very tiny country. Still, she fell asleep wishing she could do something for the enormous canine.

The dream began with a scent. The smell of cool, damp earth and rain and the faint whiff of horses. She was naked, lying on furs and facing the open door of a tent made of skins. The breeze was slight but enough to make her shiver and cause her nipples to harden. Her ass was warm, however. In fact, her entire backside was heated, pressed tightly against a very large, very male body. Not a stranger, although in the whimsical reality of dreams, she didn’t know who he was. She wasn’t afraid, although she could feel the rock-hard muscles of his arms, his chest. He was a powerful man, yet every instinct told her that she knew him as well as she knew herself—she could feel the bond between them more powerfully than even his touch. As if on cue, his large hand, calloused and work-hardened, slid over her hip and traveled gently upward. Her skin tingled deliciously beneath the rough palm, and she shivered again, not from cold but from pleasure as his hand rubbed over her breasts, fondling and squeezing.

His hot breath tickled the back of her neck as he applied soft open-mouthed kisses and measured bites. His broad fingers tugged softly at her nipples until she felt an answering tug deep in her core. She writhed, impatient for more. His hand slid between her legs where she was already slick. He teased at her clit then stroked her deeply until she gasped. Now, now, now …She ground her ass into his groin, feeling his erection thick and hot, wanting it inside her, filling her, claiming her…

Suddenly, a deafening crash overwhelmed all her senses. It filled the entire world, echoed and re-echoed, and Morgan sat bolt upright, clutching her ears. Where the hell was she? Lightning strobed away the darkness, and she recognized the hotel room.

Her head was ringing as she sat there, waiting for her heart rate to slow down. Although whether it was hammering from fright or arousal, she couldn’t say. A cold blast of wind made her look up to see rain slanting inside the open window. Oh crap. Morgan got up, slipping a little on the wet hardwood floor as she reached for the window frame. Nothing happened. She struggled for several minutes to work the old sash window loose. It jerked and slid only an inch at a time, as she tried to remember if the classic advice to stay away from windows during thunderstorms was true. Finally, the casement was closed, and the storm, which must have been passing directly overhead when it awakened her, moved off toward the north.

Relieved, she was straightening the twisted and wet curtains when another flash of lightning made her stop dead and stare. A familiar creature, blacker than the night, sat at the edge of the parking lot. Looking up at her.

The electricity’s out.

Morgan simultaneously jumped and yelped at Gwen’s voice.

“Did I frighten you, dear? I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay. The storm’s made me jumpy, that’s all.” Morgan could hear the clicking as Gwen pulled at the lamp chain several times to no effect.

“I was just saying the electricity is out. Perhaps, I should go downstairs to see if they’ve a torch we can have.”

“That’s okay, I can go. I’m already up.”

“That’s very sweet of you, thank you. But mind you be careful on the staircase and promise to tell me all about it if you see any ghosts. It’s just the kind of night for it.”

Morgan dressed quickly in the darkness. She suspected her sweater was inside out and one of her bra straps felt twisted around, but such things didn’t matter under her jacket. She promised Gwen to ask about some milk for her and left the room. She was thankful to see a scattering of emergency lights in the hallway and along the sweeping stairs. Gwen’s ghosts didn’t worry Morgan—she was much more concerned about breaking her neck.

The lobby that had seemed so quaint and charming a few hours ago looked different in the dark. With its antique furniture and heavy woodwork, it resembled a scene from an old movie. A horror movie, maybe something with Boris Karloff or Bela Lugosi. All it needed were cobwebs. Morgan’s ringing of the countertop bell brought no response, but she wasn’t surprised, considering it was the middle of the night. She hadn’t been overly optimistic about finding a flashlight—what Gwen called a torch. On impulse, she borrowed an umbrella that someone had left by the door and headed outside.

The storm had moved fast. Lightning now flickered in the hills, and thunder growled faintly after it. The rain hadn’t diminished, however. Morgan gripped the umbrella with both hands and turned it against the wind, hoping it wouldn’t blow inside out. She’d have a hard time explaining to its owner what she’d been doing. She wasn’t sure she could explain it to herself. She just had this burning need to make sure the dog was all right.

Rain blew under the umbrella and soaked her until she finally gave up on it altogether and folded it under her arm. She walked around the building slowly, using a hand to feel her way along the walls. The entire town was dark, its quaint streetlights useless. There were candles lit in the windows of the pub across the road, but there were no other signs of life as she rounded the corner to the back. Suddenly she caught sight of the dog. He was right where she had seen him from the window, still sitting in the mostly empty parking lot. And still staring at her.

Morgan hurried under the back-door awning. It didn’t offer a lot of protection from the sideways rain, but it was something. “Come here, boy. C’mon, it’s too miserable to be out here. Come inside with me like a good boy, c’mon.” She crouched and waggled her fingers, then drew the tinfoil packet from her pocket and unwrapped the roast bone she’d saved. “Look what I brought for you.” She waved it, hoping the animal would catch the scent. While she might have imagined the dog’s surprise, there was no denying the dog wasn’t moving. As still as a concrete statue, he stared at her as always.

“All right, then, bud, I’ll come to you.” She was already soaked to the skin, so a little more rain couldn’t hurt. Experience told her that making eye contact with a strange dog communicated challenge or threat, and so she kept her eyes averted. She stopped five or six yards away and gently tossed the bone at his feet. Then she turned sideways and just stood there, waiting. Ordinarily that was a clear canine invitation to investigate. But the dog didn’t come over to sniff her as she had hoped. Nor did she hear any sounds to indicate that he was checking out the bone. She turned her head and was amazed to find the animal was gone! The roast bone lay untouched on the wet pavement.

“Damn it,” she muttered in frustration. Leaving the bone, she hurried back to the hotel and fumbled in her soggy pocket with cold, numb fingers for a key card. Which was worse, Morgan wondered, that she was being followed by a disappearing dog or that she’d been dumb enough to go out in such weather to try to help it? I could have been struck by lightning, for heaven’s sake. And just what would she have done with the dog if she’d managed to coax him inside? The canine outweighed most humans. It would be like wedging a wet pony into her cozy hotel room. At least she had an understanding roommate. Gwen would no doubt have welcomed a chance to test the dog’s energy or some such thing.