Karen Whiddon - The Wolf Siren

When she emerged, instead of sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for her, Kane had stretched out, still fully dressed, and fallen asleep. Padding over on her bare feet, she studied his strong profile. Even asleep, she saw the inherent strength in his hawklike features. Emboldened, she let her gaze travel over the rest of him, his impossibly long, black lashes, high cheekbones, and firm yet sensual lips. An unfamiliar warmth began inside her. He really was dangerously beautiful. Tendrils of his thick dark hair curled on his tanned forehead, and his broad shoulders and muscular arms made him look virile in his T-shirt. Even his bare arm silky with hairs and his long fingered hands fascinated her. The same way one would marvel at a great work of art, she told herself. Nothing more.

Sleep had muted the air of isolation she’d sensed in him and identified with, making him appear unexpectedly vulnerable. If not for the power she sensed coiled within him, making his aura pulse with potent masculinity, that is.

Aching to touch the heat emanating from his flesh, she cleared her throat instead. Oddly enough, she felt more at risk now than she did when he was awake with his quiet confidence filling the room.

At the sound, he opened his eyes. His silver gaze locked on hers, making her catch her breath.

“All done?” he asked, sitting up. Momentarily struck dumb, she nodded.

“Great.” Pushing himself off the bed, he smiled at her. “I’ll only be a minute or two. Go ahead and sleep if you want.”

An instant of panic clawed at her. Unreasonable, but still... “Will you,” she began, trying to bring the words up a suddenly tight throat. “Will you play and sing again tonight?”

He went so still she wondered if she’d offended him. But his expression appeared neutral when he looked her way. “Do you want me to?”

Nodding, she glanced down, aware she’d begun twisting her hands together. “I would like that,” she managed.

“Then I will.” His easy tone made her think he hadn’t noticed her uneasiness. But then she was coming to realize he pretended not to notice a lot of her weirdness in order to put her at ease.

“But first, I want a shower.” Turning, he headed toward the bathroom.

“Thank you,” she said, right when he closed the door behind him. She wasn’t sure he’d heard her, but at least she’d tried.

Carefully she removed the bedspread, folding it neatly at the end of the bed. Then, peeling back the sheets, she slipped in between them, trying to lie on her back, propped up with a pillow, or on her side, stretched out like normal people. In the end, she gave up and curled up into her usual, comforting ball and lay inflexible and rigid.

She’d give anything to have the ability to drift off to sleep. Just close her eyes, and let herself get carried away to the land of dreams. Instead, she lay absolutely still, her heartbeat fast, her mind racing.

Though she’d tried to school herself against it, she stiffened the instant the door opened. Keeping her eyes closed, she felt his presence fill the room. Damn it. No reason for fear, no reason at all. But helpless against instinct, she couldn’t stop the dread from filling her. A few minutes later, the familiar shivers started. Clenching her jaw, she tried to keep her teeth from chattering.

“It’s okay,” he said, his deep voice calm and sure. “I’ll get my guitar. Just a minute.” She heard the sound of him unlocking the dead bolt, then the door opened and closed as he went outside.

Her jaw began to ache as she waited.

After what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was probably only a moment, he returned. Eyes still closed, she held herself rigid, hating that she felt so tense. She listened as he moved around the room, heard the click of the fasteners as he opened his guitar case, the rustle and creak of the bed next to her as he settled on it. She could barely contain her impatience.

And then finally, he strummed the guitar. As the soft notes filled the room, she loosened her iron grip on herself, letting them pull some of the tension from her. When he sang, his husky voice low and sensual, and just exactly right, she heaved a great sigh, willing herself to become unknotted.

One song ended—she wasn’t even sure of the words—and he began another. As the music filled her, releasing her from the iron grip of her damaged psyche, she smiled. Muttering a slurred thank-you, she let herself fall toward the blessed oblivion of sleep.

* * *

Kane kept playing, long after he’d watched Lilly fall into slumber. Though exhaustion made him unsteady, he knew he had to keep playing or he might do something he’d regret. Like touch her.

Hell, the aching need to lay a hand on her had only intensified the longer he was around her. Only the certain knowledge of how badly such a thing would freak her out kept him from giving in to the craving. He’d been surprised as hell when she’d let him hold her hand earlier. And pleased, more than he should have been.

Four songs in, as the last notes died away, he made himself stop. Moving slowly, his body uncomfortable and aching, he returned the guitar to its case. He then went to bed, hoping he could get to sleep. He had another full day of driving tomorrow.

When he opened his eyes again, the grayish light told him dawn had nearly arrived. He sat up, glancing over at Lilly, who still slept. Heading toward the shower, he braced himself for yet another long day of driving. South Bend, Indiana, here we come.

Though this was only their second morning together, Kane considered it odd the way he and Lilly seemed to have developed a routine. In less than forty-five minutes, they were on the road, both having showered and dressed. After running through a drive-through for breakfast, they hit the highway. Once again, Lilly was silent, so he again located a country-music radio station and turned up the volume.

Several hours later, fueled by two large coffees, he debated trying again to engage her in conversation. She was a quiet little thing, though her slender, wild beauty lit up the interior of his car. He knew she had no idea of her impact on him, though everything about her fascinated him, from the apricot cream of her soft skin to the long lashes framing her clear blue eyes. He struggled against the temptation to taste her lush mouth, to tangle his fingers in her careless tumble of thick, honey-gold hair.

Even the first time he’d seen her, emaciated and filthy, huddled on a cold stone floor with nothing but rags to keep her warm, he’d seen the light of her beauty shining through her damaged exterior. For the first time in his life, he’d wanted to kill another human being, to find the one who had done this to her and wrap his fingers around his throat.

Since he couldn’t, he’d managed to hold himself in check. The bastard, one Jacob Gideon, a prominent religious leader of a church called Sanctuary, had been arrested. The worst part of it was that Lilly’d believed Jacob to be her father. It’d turned out Jacob had killed her parents back when she and Lucas had been infants.

Shaking off his thoughts, he focused on the road. When she finally spoke, he nearly missed it.

“What’s your story?” Her soft-voiced question had him hurrying to turn down the radio. “How’d you get into the bodyguard business?”

He couldn’t help but smile at her description. “I’m actually a veterinarian. I work at a veterinary clinic in Fort Worth. I also work for The Society of Pack Protectors.”

To his amazement, she smiled back, making an ember smolder inside him. “Lucas told me about the Protectors. They...you helped free me and the others from Sanctuary. He said you’re sworn to keep safe others of our kind. Shape-shifters.”

Since he knew she’d believed her and her brother to be freaks of nature and hadn’t realized there were others, her calm acceptance now made him make a mental note to call Lucas and thank him for teaching his sister so much in such a short period of time. At least she knew some of her heritage.