Legend of the White Wolf (23 page)

   
Bad plan.
Her fingers felt fur and lean, mean wolf instead. As soon as she touched him, she about had a heart attack. He growled, whipped his head around, and bit her.

   She screamed and fluorescent amber eyes peered at her in the dark, then the shine in them faded. Her heart beat pounding, she jumped back, favoring her throbbing hand, and ran into one of the tent poles. The pole toppled and the tent collapsed.

   Feeling suffocated, Faith scrambled away from the center of the tent, trying to extricate herself from the tomb of polypropylene fabric. Her hand touched fur again and she jerked back, afraid he'd bite her once more. She thrust her hands out madly in another direc tion. The canvas elevated near her. He'd slipped in front of her, like a dangerous predator, unwilling to let her escape.

   A tongue licked her injured hand, and she gasped.
The taste before another bite?

   Again, she crawled toward what she hoped was the tent opening, but all she found was more tent, and then Cameron's soft bedding. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she scrambled over his blankets and sleeping bag and tried to locate a way out.

   And then she touched bare skin—Cameron's thigh?

   Before she could jerk away, a large hand grabbed her wrist and held on tight. "Stay."

   
God, Cameron.
Barely breathing, she didn't move.

   "I'm sorry, Faith. I didn't mean to bite you." He sounded remorseful, but worried, too.

   Her hand was stinging so badly, she was sure he'd broken the skin. Her heart pounded like a sledgehammer while she tried to come to grips with the truth.
He
was the wolf. It made the only sense and yet no sense at all.

   But he was the wolf—he admitted biting her, had been chasing her earlier, had saved the dogs and her from the other wolves—which was the only reasonable explanation that fit. The dead men—the ones who had been wolves before Cameron had killed them—they were like him. He was one of them.

   She groaned and collapsed onto the bedding. Could Cameron's bite have transferred whatever he was to her, and she'd be like him now?

   "What were you doing in here?" He pressed her hand against his face and breathed deeply.

   She swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart, to drum up the courage to speak. What
was
she doing in here? Oh, yeah, his wound.

   "I was going to put some salve on your injury."

   "Do you still want to?"

   What a disaster. She closed her eyes to still the pounding in her head. "We need to erect the tent first. But I can't see anything."

   As if he was afraid she'd escape, he didn't release her, but moved away slightly and turned on a lantern. But she wasn't exactly afraid of him. Not after what he'd done for her and for the dogs. He'd risked his life to protect them.

   That's when she saw every muscled naked bit of him as he elevated the tent with his free hand, then released her and pushed the lightweight fabric upward with the other, like Atlas only the world wasn't on his back.

   She'd gotten an eyeful when he went to dress in the snow, but that was only his remarkable backside, toned from his back to his butt and legs. But now, she got to see all the goods again from his corded chest all the way down to his well-toned thighs. Despite the cold, he was totally aroused. Her gaze shifted to his face and he raised his brows, waiting for a response.

   She cleared her throat, glanced back at his glorious erection and said, "I'll get the tent pole."

   He smiled a little, and pointed with his head toward the bedding between his legs. And sure enough, there was the pole sitting between his feet.

   "Oh."

   His wolfish grin made the heat rush through every nerve ending.

   She hurried to set the other tent pole, knowing his injured shoulder had to hurt something awful, and he had to be freezing.

   He released the tent with a groan, sat down on the bedding, and pulled his wool blanket over his lap.

   She examined the bite as he watched her. "It doesn't look half as bad as the other bite did."

   He didn't say anything, but reached up to touch her cheek. His gentle caress felt like a prelude to something much deeper.

   This was
so
not good. She knew he wanted her and she knew it wasn't right, not when he was whatever he was. "I'll just cover the wound with this salve."

   When she smeared the smelly stuff on, he hissed, and she looked up at him. He gave her a half smile. "Stings."

   "I'm sorry. Hopefully, it'll kill any germs." She instinctively clasped her hand on his forehead, but his skin was normal and not feverish, thank god, and she hoped it stayed that way. She pulled the bandaging from the first aid kit and began wrapping it around the injury, trying to be gentle, although his muscle was rigid as she worked, and she feared she was hurting him.

   "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to touch an injured animal?" He relaxed a little and leaned his head closer to hers, his face touching her hair with an amative hint of a nudge.

   "You're not a wolf now." She couldn't help that her voice was tinged with annoyance. What did he think? She was stupid? Of course she knew to be careful around an injured wild animal. Even a pet that had been hurt could react viciously to helping hands. "F
urthermore
, how could I have known you were a wolf when I came in to take care of you? Besides, it's too late for the warning."

   "Do you often go into dark places without regard to your safety? What if I'd thought you were one of Kintail's men?" he scolded.

   "I smell too nice. Besides, I've got the gun and pepper spray."

   His brows rose in a roguish way. He tenderly touched her cheek with the back of his hand. "You'd actually use those on me? But I know martial arts and could have you just where I wanted you in a matter of seconds."

   The vision of him flipping her onto her back with an expert martial arts move, the can of pepper spray tossed one way, the gun the other, and the aroused hunk landing squarely between her legs, pinning her to his soft bedding flitted across her brain. Just the images that brought to mind started an ache between her legs. She grabbed his wrist, stopping him before things got out of hand. Before she changed her mind and let him get out of hand, rather.

   When they'd made love before, it was one thing. She didn't know what he had become. Now, she did. But then she frowned at him. Had he already known?

   His eyes were clouded with desire, his voice coated in lust. He definitely had sex on the brain. Not that she wasn't having a tough time keeping her own mind on business. Trying to take care of his injuries, she had every intention of returning to Charles's tent before she got herself into more trouble.

   "Stay with me. For a little while?" He took her face in his hands, his brain definitely now residing in the lower part of his anatomy.

   She closed her eyes and breathed in the cold air, the slight cologne Cameron wore, and opened her eyes. "Do I have a choice?"

   "About what's to be? I doubt it. About staying with me? It'll always be your choice."

   Before, she was afraid to become too attached to the hunk, and then they'd go their separate ways. But now… now how could she knowingly make love to someone who was part wolf, part man? On the other hand, what if she was half and half now, too? She didn't feel any differently except her hand throbbed with a vengeance. She didn't feel like she was having any symptoms of cabin fever like he'd had which she was now thinking had all to do with what he was. But then again, he had experienced those symptoms several hours after the first wolf had bitten him.

   "Do… do you have any control over it?"

   "When I'm around you, I want to be human and it seems to work."

   "Seems to? You don't know for sure?"

   "I've only changed three times, and every time when we were close to each other, I changed back."

   Close. She didn't think it had to do with him being close to her as much as he was lusting after her—at least the times as far as she could tell, first when he pinned her to the snow. The second time after he bit her, she thought it was more because he felt badly and the emotions swamping him precipitated the change. Unless it had to do with her being on his bedding, and he wanted her again. "Three times? When was the other?"

   "Middle of the night. I thought I was dreaming. Oh hell, Faith, I overheard Chris and his friends talking in a tent. They might have been discussing you."

   "What about? Why didn't you say before?"

   "I thought it was a dream." He sighed. "They were talking about a man doing research and how Chris believed his daughter would join them."

   "Join them? In what?"

   "Finding the magical wolves? They were looking for Bigfoot when your father went with them. But he must have gotten separated from them when he saw what he did. Then he was shaken up, and no wonder, and returned home to write his paper."

   "So what if Kintail learned of it and sent someone to spy on him? Hilson." She let out her breath in exasperation. "Do you think he could be one of Kintail's people?"

   "Maybe."

   Well that decided that. So he did want the research and not her.

   She looked up at Cameron. "I need to return to Charles. To watch over him."

   "Lie down with me, Faith, for just a little while."

   He half pleaded and half commanded. The commanding made her think of Hilson. Always in charge. Always bossing her around. But the pleading,
that
… was another matter entirely.

   She came to her senses and shook her head. "You'd better get something on before you freeze." Hating to reject him further, she decided she had to leave because she was certain she'd hate herself more if she stayed.

   Besides, Charles needed her, as badly injured as he was. She'd never forgive herself if he got worse, and she wasn't there to monitor him closely. And they required some answers from him also, soon.

   But before she exited the tent, Cameron groaned, and she glanced back at him. He'd slipped into the sleeping bag, his face white with pain. And then she was really torn. Stay with Cameron for a little while, just until he fell asleep?

   Or return to Charles pronto and save herself?

FAITH'S WISHFUL EXPRESSION MADE CAMERON THINK SHE was trying to decide whether to stay with him longer or not. But her soft green eyes shifted to the opening of the tent, and he knew he was losing her.

   He reached out and touched her uninjured hand, wanting desperately to pull her into his embrace, to hold her tight, to make everything that had happened in the last several hours fade away, but he couldn't force her. Her jaw clenched.

   "Faith." He meant to say her name softly, but it came out as lust-drenched pleading to his ears.

   "Just for a little while. But I've got to go to Charles before long." Her gaze flickered to Cameron's and she looked down at the bedding.

   Then she crawled into the sleeping bag with him, and laid her head on his chest, her arm over his waist, and even one leg propped over his. For an hour, she rested with Cameron, his hand stroking her hair as he held her tight. But she seemed tense. He could tell from her breathing she wasn't sleeping, her body stiff, but she laid against him just the same, her body heating his. This had to be enough for now, and he was grateful for any concession on her part, but then she pulled away so tentatively, he was certain he could still keep her close, if he just pushed a little harder, even though he didn't want her that way.

   She had to accept him for what he was even if it killed him to see her go. He was certain her reluctance didn't mean she hadn't wanted to be with him. Maybe that she was truly worried about Charles. Or maybe that she was unsure of being with Cameron. That bothered him as much as her not staying with him for a little while longer.

   She rubbed her injured hand again, then slipped out of the tent, leaving him to face the bitter cold. With her there, the tent had seemed so much warmer, full of her light. He ground his teeth and sank against the bedding.

   The damn pain from his injury wouldn't subside, and he wanted her. And every inch of him was freezing. He growled and jerked his sleeping bag aside, then yanked his clothes on, feeling like he was sitting in his freezer. He couldn't understand why he desired Faith so badly. Not that he hadn't been interested in her from the beginning, and he admired her tenacity and resolve despite all that they'd been through. But everything about her triggered a deeper interest, a need to possess, to make her his, when he didn't think he'd ever feel that way about a woman.

   He doubted her resolve to tend to his injured shoulder had everything to do with it. His hang-dog expression had upset her, and she'd been feeling badly about abandoning him. Come to think of it, no one had ever nurtured him so far as he could recall, which endeared her to him even more.

   Then he had to change into the blasted wolf again, and worse, bite her. He'd tasted her blood, knew he'd broken the skin. He prayed he hadn't infected her with the magical wolf's virus, or whatever the hell it was.

   Damn the change and his lack of control over it. He jerked the sleeping bag to his chin, and slammed his eyes shut, but sleep wouldn't come. Not with the way his mind kept working over all that had occurred since he'd first met her. All he wanted was the siren curled beside him, her head resting on his chest, his arms wrapped around her bundled body, listening to her steady heartbeat, breathing in the fragrance that was all Faith—a hint of something floral, and definitely something sexual. More than anything, he desired her acceptance. And now what? Had he changed her also? Annoyed with himself for his lack of restraint, he curled his fingers into fists.