Cynthia Cooke - Running with Wolves

He nodded, an eager smile lifting his lips. “I think coffee would be a great idea.”

He was concerned about her. Why? He didn’t even know her. She climbed the steps up her porch and hurried into the kitchen with Buddy close on her heels. She went right to the sink and busied herself filling the carafe of the coffeemaker with water. Still trying to determine what had just happened. She’d become so lightheaded, she’d almost fainted and this man, this stranger, had caught her in his more-than-capable arms and she hadn’t wanted him to let her go. She sighed. To make matters worse, this man who had shifted her libido into overdrive was sitting at her kitchen table.

She tried not to think about that. Or about the fact that she felt so comfortable around him. Sometimes he looked at her as if he knew her. As if she knew him. Crazy. And the way she felt when he touched her... She had definitely never felt like that before—all tingly and aware. She glanced at him, sitting in one of her kitchen chairs, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked good there. He looked...comfortable.

Once the coffee began brewing, she put a kettle of tea on for herself. Jason stood and perused her pictures on the wall. Photos of herself with her parents back before Dad had died and everything had become so hard for them.

“Your mom and dad?” he asked. His words were casual, but there was nothing casual about the tension in his shoulders. Why was he looking at them like that?

“Yep,” she said and filled her grandmother’s antique cream jar with milk and set it on the table with the matching sugar bowl. She used the set every day, trying to feel closer to her so she wouldn’t miss her so much. Some days it worked; some days it didn’t.

“Where do they live now?” Jason asked.

Was there more than idle curiosity in his voice?

“They aren’t. Living, that is,” she said more harshly than she’d meant to.

Confusion wrinkled his forehead. “Oh. I didn’t know. Sorry to hear that.” And he looked it, too. Much more than he should for someone who had no idea who she or her parents were.

Anxiety twisted through her as it hit her again that she’d invited a man she didn’t know into her home. She was alone with a complete stranger. A too-good-to-be-true stranger.

And no one knew.

“I know what it’s like to lose your family,” he said as sadness filled his eyes. “To be alone.”

She gave herself a strong mental kick for being so paranoid. Here was this nice guy, who had done nothing but help her and try to make small talk, and she was thinking the worst of him.

“I’m sorry about the apartment,” she said, deciding the best thing to do would be to change the subject. “I’m afraid Mr. Henderson was right and I’ll need to get the foundation checked. I don’t think it’s inhabitable.”

For a moment he didn’t say anything, just sat at the table as she placed the steaming mug of coffee in front of him. She dropped into the chair across from him and added milk and honey to her tea.

“I am a contractor. I do remodels for a living and I don’t believe the problem is with your foundation.”

She perked up at that news. “Really? That would be great news because, honestly, I can’t afford that kind of extensive repair.”

She took a deep drink of the soothing chamomile. At first it hit the spot, but after a second her stomach flipped over on itself, sending a painful cramp slicing through her abdomen. She grabbed her middle and bent over.

Jason stood. “Are you all right?”

She tried to straighten but was in too much pain. She wanted to assure him that she was fine, but another racking wave shot through her. “I’m sorry. I must be coming down with something.”

“You should lie down.” He reached for her, his hand on her arm, pulling her out of the chair.

“Oh, I couldn’t. We still need to discuss....” Sudden weakness and a spike in her temperature killed the words on her lips. But she had to say them. They had to talk. How could she sleep with a strange man in her house? And what was she going to do with him? He couldn’t stay in the apartment, foundation issues or not.

“I insist.” He slipped his hand around her waist, helping her walk. And once he did, once she stared up into those gorgeous pale bluish-gray eyes of his, she knew she couldn’t fight him. But more than that, she knew she didn’t need to fear him. Though, for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine how she knew.

He led her into the living room and over to her large comfy couch. “Just for a little while,” he said as she fell into the deep cushions. He pushed the hair back from her face and it took all the effort she had not to tip her head into his hand. To seek comfort from him.

“I’ll check out the cracks in your apartment to see what needs to be done, then we’ll talk.” He looked around the room, noticing the cracks she’d tried to spackle on the wall above the TV.

Before she could respond, she started to drift off. She felt the warm familiar threads of her grandmother’s afghan being pulled up over her shoulders, and heard him softly whisper in a deep, commanding voice, “Buddy, stay.

“You’ll be safe for now,” he whispered, and she couldn’t help thinking what an odd thing for him to say, but before she could determine what he meant she succumbed to the dark.

* * *

Jason left the room with Buddy keeping watch over Shay and walked outside. The afternoon was growing late. With the shortened days of fall, soon it would be dark. He walked back down the road toward town and his truck, which he’d left parked outside the small grocery store.

His wolf scent was much stronger than hers. But with the crystals on his wrist, he had another day’s protection from the Abatu before the stones stopped working. Then he’d attract the demons himself. If only it hadn’t taken him so long to find her.

He had hoped he’d have more time to build her trust before he had to drop the truth on her and explode her world. But time was a luxury they no longer had. From the size of those cracks on her walls and the way the change was affecting her, they would need to get on the road first thing in the morning or risk what would be coming through those walls after them.

He climbed into the truck and drove it back to her house, parking in front. He had all the necessary supplies he needed in the back—rope, knife, flashlight, water, extra food, extra clothes. He just hoped he wouldn’t need to use any of them. But she was changing fast and from what he could gather, she had no clue who she was or what was happening to her.

How could Dean have been so careless? He knew the danger a fledgling wolf faced. How could he not have prepared her or at least told Lily what to tell her? He ran a hand over his face and wondered when Lily had died. Maybe they hadn’t had time. That was the only explanation that made sense. Maybe they’d died too soon, when Shay was still too young to understand.

Grief tugged at his insides and he wished once more that Dean had chosen to stay at The Colony. Obviously if he had, he’d still be alive today and there wouldn’t be as much dissention in the pack.

Malcolm was a good leader. A strong leader. But there had been grumblings about his methods, his integrity and honor. Not something anyone would ever have said about Dean Mallory. Dean had been as honorable as they came, which was why he’d left to marry Lily when she’d become pregnant. It was the right and honorable thing to do. The only thing to do.

As Jason sat there staring at the little house, thinking about Dean’s daughter inside, he couldn’t help wondering if Lily had known the truth about them. Had he ever told her? Or had he gone to his grave never letting the love of his life know his true nature? That he wasn’t like everyone else. That he wasn’t human.