Linda Thomas-Sundstrom - Seduced by the Moon

In theory, anyway.

He’d only tested his survival skills once, when he was accidentally hit by an arrow fired at him by mistake. That hunter now spent time in a cell.

And by the way...that arrow had been a bitch.

Gavin searched the clearing.

The cabin looked quiet in the evening light, though he knew the woman hadn’t taken his advice and hit the road. A ribbon of gray smoke rose from the chimney.

Stubborn streak?

Who in their right mind remained resistant to a ranger’s warning, or stepped outside in the middle of the night to face anyone or anything that might be out there?

Not courageous, necessarily. More like impulsive.

Maybe she gets off on danger.

And just maybe he’d make it his business to find out.

Besides, he was ravenous for company, and the smoke coming from the cabin carried the smell of food. If he knocked on the door, was there was a remote possibly she’d invite him in for a bite?

Gavin shook his head, rubbed his eyes.

She shouldn’t be alone. The last death out here had been gruesome. Some poor doctor found in a gulley, sliced to shreds. Gavin had an idea about how that might have happened, and that idea didn’t include a slippery trail. But he couldn’t speak of it to anyone. Who’d believe him?

The doctor who had occupied the cabin died just ten days ago, which made the new occupant’s tenancy a quick turnaround. Possibly the woman was part of that man’s family.

She’d probably have her pants on today.

Smiling felt strange. So did the compulsion to go down there. He didn’t know why this woman’s presence was so intriguing to him that his vow of celibacy strained at its leash.

He was way too hungry for everything that cabin had to offer, for anyone’s good.

As for women? He hadn’t dared to sleep with one since he’d been mauled by a hell demon and his life, as he’d always known it, had ceased to exist. He had no idea how the beast, now an integral part of him, would deal with emotion. He wasn’t sure if this nightmare could be passed to others by way of something as insignificant as a scratch or a kiss.

There seemed to be no rule book for werewolves. No manual . Hell, it was possible there were no others like him, and he’d have to continue to play it by ear.

“Sorry,” Gavin whispered to the female below, though his insides quaked with a longing for what she could offer that bordered on visceral greed.

He craved warmth and closeness and the freedom to fill his lungs with the perfume surrounding this woman like an aura. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of her, and see where that led. Test himself. Push himself.

But he had a job to do and a vow to fulfill. He’d find the beast that had ruined his life, and take that beast down. “Not her,” he said to quiet his inner wolf. “Definitely can’t bother this woman.”

Want her , his wolfish side protested with a sharp stomach twist.

“Yes. Okay. I suppose I do,” Gavin admitted as he started down the hill toward the cabin as if pulled there by an invisible chain.

* * *

“Stop right there.”

Obliging, the man by the fence stopped at the gate.

Even if she hadn’t guessed that her nighttime visitor would return, Skylar’s first thought actually would have been ranger due to the light green pants and the shirt with a badge on the pocket.

She wasn’t sure how she noticed the clothing details though, given her initial surprise over how incredibly attractive the rest of him was and how well he fit her dream guy’s stats.

Tall and rangy, his outfit did little to hide masses of lean, well-honed muscle. Other dreamed attributes were there, too: the broad shoulders and narrow waist, the dark brown hair with its loose waves curtaining a chiseled face. From where she stood, it appeared that every body part seemed perfectly balanced and in accord with his beautifully united whole.

Just as she’d imagined.

This was downright uncanny, and maybe even a little scary. Still, while the hunky outdoorsman looked strong, he didn’t look primeval. His fingers didn’t end in razor-sharp claws, though she seemed to recognize him on whatever level of consciousness telegraphed heat.

Skylar felt her temperature begin to rise. Sensitive spots at the base of her spine tingled—a sign that though he hadn’t spoken yet, this guy truly was last night’s visitor, in the flesh.

“You’ve lost your gun,” he finally observed.

Velvet. Yes. His voice was like a velvet blanket, the vocalization of his appearance.

Skylar’s heart fluttered in her chest.

“Do I need it?” She regarded this guy almost rudely, unable to stop the flood of internal warnings about the impossibility of dreams coming to life.

But she couldn’t have made this guy up. He was standing in her yard in the last light of a long day, and was close enough for her to see his face.

She wasn’t dreaming now. That face and its perfectly symmetrical features struck her as being way too familiar.

“The apron suits you,” he said in a teasing manner that might have been inappropriate since they were strangers outside of her fantastically naughty dreams. Nevertheless, she smiled and ran one hand down the front of the dish towel she’d tied around her waist, glad she had on jeans for this reunion.

Her other hand clutched the gun hidden behind her back.

“I guess you’re determined to stay, ignoring the advice of the locals,” he went on.

“I have business to conclude here.”

“Can I ask what that business is?”

“Cleaning up my father’s things. He lived here on and off until recently.”

The ranger kicked dirt off his boots and looked down, suggesting that he knew what had happened to her dad.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” He glanced up again to meet her scrutinizing gaze.

Nervously, Skylar glanced away. The flutter inside her chest spread to her arms. She gripped the gun tighter so she wouldn’t drop the damn thing.

“Were you watching my father, too? He had an accident, they said.”

Skylar let the word accident hang in the air before continuing. “Was anyone patrolling around here when he died?”

Unable to resist the urge to look at him again, almost as if he requested it, she dragged her focus upward until their gazes connected across the small front yard.

Shudders rocked her with the immediacy of the connection, and she shifted from foot to foot to cover the quakes. He stared back at her with a seriousness that set off more alarm bells. His penetrating eyes were very light against his bronzed skin. Though she was unfamiliar with the dream man’s eyes, she was sure these were his.

You’re a handsome sucker, I’ll give you that.

But how do I know you?

Why have I modeled a dream after you?

If she’d met this guy before, she would have remembered, and yet her treacherous body was responding to him as though he’d stepped right out of her dream and was presenting himself to her now in order to culminate all those pent-up feelings.

While reading body language was a trick both her father and her own classes in medical school had taught her, this situation was different. Meeting his gaze was like sharing secrets without having to speak. It felt weird, and also incredibly sexy in a messed-up way.

“Two of us were on duty that night, but not near here,” he said in answer to the question she’d almost forgotten.

“Night?” she echoed. “Dad was hiking at night?”

“I don’t know that for a fact,” he replied. “Sorry again.”

Even in stillness, the ranger seemed to be moving, evidence of the wild streak he harbored. Chances were good he was a loner, preferring to live on the fringes of the city, communing with trees. Weren’t all forest rangers born with some kind of special calling for the great outdoors?