Wolf at the Door (8 page)

It had been hard enough for him to listen to
what she’d been through; he just hoped she didn’t have to relive it
every night. Hoped that somehow she managed to find peace. This was
his fault. He’d forced her to dredge it all up, but when it was
done, he just hoped she might be able to go back to some semblance
of normal.

He hoped, but after seeing the shattered bits
of fear still roiling in her eyes, he wasn’t so sure.

***

You’re safe. Safe. Here. Now
. The
familiar litany reverberated in her head. A mantra she’d recited a
hundred thousand times while she stared her reflection down in the
mirror. She’d left Charles, escaped, he couldn’t find—

Her gaze met Brandt’s in the mirror and she
froze.

This time, oddly, it wasn’t fear that stole
through her then. It was anger. A flash fire that suddenly burned
bright inside her. She was
supposed
to be free, damn it.
She’d lived through it last time. She’d gotten away. How the hell
had he found her again?

She fisted her hand in her shirt, just over
her heart. What else did the man want to take from her?

“Timber,” Brandt said softly.

She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to
look at Brandt any more, not even through the mirror. He’d watched
her while she’d been nothing more than a screaming banshee. Seen
her here, while she’d tried to pull herself back together. To
reassemble the sharp edges of her soul when they no longer fit just
right.

She was jagged, rough, scarred,
incomplete.

“You’re okay.” His voice drifted around her,
and she found herself leaning back against the wall beside her
shower. Okay?

She’d told herself that every day since she
left Charles. It’d taken her a long time to believe it. It only
took Charles one day to destroy that illusion.

“I wish he’d die,” she said finally, because
it was the only thing she could think of to break the silence now
stretching out between them. It was the only way she could be
certain this could truly end.

Brandt stepped closer, and it should have
made her nervous. Should have set her heart racing all over again,
but something inside insisted he wouldn’t hurt her. She wanted to
argue, that it was exactly this kind of man who could destroy her.
A man she could trust, have faith in, feel safe with, and he could
throw it all away, and she wouldn’t ever see it coming.

But the moment his hand slid along her
shoulders Timber felt herself leaning into his embrace. Tears
burned at the back of her eyes and she tried to blink them away.
God. But he’d already seen her screaming her fool head off, he
didn’t need to see her crying too.

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Timber let Brandt lead her back to her
bedroom, but she never could sleep after a dream like that. But
what was she supposed to tell him? He was sleeping on her couch. He
didn’t need her up all night reading in the chair next to him.
Exhaustion tugged at her, a constant, aching pull. She needed
sleep. Normally her psyche gave her a break every now and then. At
least enough to catch a few hours. But with everything going on, it
was no surprise she wasn’t sleeping at all.

Timber lingered in the doorway to her room.
Brandt had paused with her, as if sensing her reluctance. “What do
you normally do instead?” he whispered, the kindness in that
question squeezing her heart.

“Read. Coffee. Stare at the clock until dawn.
Before Becky’s death, I’d go for a run.” And the moment she said
it, that was what she craved. To let the moonlight gleam along her
fur, the wind chasing her as she ran. Freedom. It was the one thing
that reminded her that she was no longer chained to a bed. That she
was
free
.

Running had always helped her sleep.

She could feel him studying her, but her gaze
was locked on her bedroom window and the tree beyond.

“You’ll have to stay with me,” he said
softly, and for a moment she didn’t understand. She watched him
mutely as he walked over to the bedside table and picked up his
gun. “Can’t say I’ve ever run with a wolf. Are wolfhounds
faster?”

He cocked his head to look at her, a bare
attempt at a smile on his face, at a
joke
, and she laughed,
surprising the hell out of herself. “Can’t say I’ve ever run with a
wolfhound, either.”

“I’ll need my holster.” He jerked his chin
toward the hall and the stairs beyond.

She understood his reasoning. Clothes,
jewelry, it all shifted with them. It wasn’t something she’d ever
understood, it was just part of the magick of being a shifter. But
it also meant that Brandt could bring his gun, and if danger found
them in the woods, he could shift back and immediately be armed.
Timber swallowed back the growing lump in her throat. “Thank
you.”

Brandt nodded. “Just stay with me. No running
off out there.”

“Yes, sir.” She flashed him the first real
grin she’d felt in days.

She followed him downstairs, waited while he
clipped on his holster, then rushed to the front door. The moment
the cool night air hit her she felt her wolf rise, eager. The
animal had lived in fear and desperation for as long as she had,
but it knew as well as she did what a night run meant. The beast
trembled inside her, and she glanced back at Brandt as he stepped
out beside her, shutting the door behind him.

“Go ahead.” His gaze scanned the front of her
house. Watching. Alert.

For the first time since before Charles, she
let someone else watch her back. Timber let the wolf out. The
change was fast, a rush of magick and then she was standing on four
feet, the rich scents of the night filling her. Her tail wagged and
she turned back to Brandt, ears pricked forward, to see a gangly
dog standing next to her.

He was taller than she was, all lean legs and
wiry gray fur. His ears were floppy and short, his muzzle long,
with gray curls that poked up on his nose. She opened her mouth and
let her tongue loll out in a canine grin. His eyes hadn’t changed
at all. They were still the same mocha brown. His whipcord tail
wagged, and that was enough for her.

Timber spun, her lean wolf body lunging into
the night. Her fur was black, specked with silver on her
underbelly. A human would have had trouble spotting her as she ran
through the shadows. Brandt had no trouble staying with her. His
long strides ate up the ground beside her as he kept pace for a
while, and then lowered his head to blow past her.

A thrill darted through her wolf, and she
felt the animal dig deeper, charging after him, a joyous howl
bursting from her. Brandt spun back then, and for a moment reality
kicked in. She shouldn’t be making noise. Shouldn’t be—

He shouldered into her and leapt away, the
lean gray body dropping easily into a play bow. A yip and then he
was gone again. Never running straight away, always keeping her in
sight. But the message was clear.
Let loose.

And that’s exactly what she did.

With a soft, playful snarl, Timber darted
after him. They danced under the moonlight. Two canines, wolf and
hound, running over the clipped grass of her back yard, careening
around the trees in the small copse beside her house. They never
strayed far, Brandt always steering them home, but in the hours
under the moon she felt free.

More than that, though.

She felt happy.

Chapter Eight

His left arm
was numb, heavy. With a groan, Brandt shifted, still half asleep,
as he tried to coax some feeling back into the limb. Damn. Sleeping
on a couch was like medieval torture. He’d be lucky if every cell
and molecule didn’t ache today.

Blinking blearily into the soft morning light
that filled Timber’s living room, he found himself staring at the
soft purple hair scattered over his chest. Her hand clutched at his
shirt, as if even in sleep something stalked her, terrified her,
and she was clinging to any hope of safety. Then again, after
hearing her screams last night, he had no doubt that something in
her dreams still stalked her. Terrified her.

Unable to help himself, Brandt reached out
with the arm not trapped under Timber’s weight and brushed aside a
long strand of hair. Her skin was so soft. She was also beautiful.
Purple hadn’t exactly been on his list of sexy colors, but seeing
it now, the way it framed her face, bringing out the red of her
lips, making them look so perfectly kissable...

Brandt leaned his head back against the
armrest with a sigh.

She was a
job
. Someone to protect. A
victim.

He sure as hell shouldn’t be obsessing about
kissing her.

Timber snuggled closer into his chest with a
soft moan, and desire flared like she’d tossed a lit match into a
pool of gasoline. He went up in a whoosh of flames. Especially when
one thigh slipped over his, pinning his hips against hers.

He’d been a fool to end up like this. A
bloody, damn fool.

He’d taken her out on a run last night
because he suspected, after seeing the longing in her eyes when she
gazed out the window, that a good run, free in the moonlight, was
the only way she would find any peace. Or get any sleep. And after
hearing those heart-rending screams, he simply couldn’t deny her
that relief. She had been happy, too. Free. Running and playing
outside like a pup, the little girl within her free and happy.
She’d still been laughing when they shifted back and went back
inside for the night.

Just the memory of her laugh made him
smile.

But the moment she looked at those stairs,
she’d hesitated. All the fear she’d shed earlier had stormed back
into her eyes. With hindsight, he understood exactly how she’d
ended up sleeping on the couch next to him. But at the time he
hadn’t expected one movie to turn into three, or that somewhere
along the way he’d fall asleep, and so would she.

And he sure as hell hadn’t expected to wake
up with her tangled around him, her so-perfectly-kissable lips just
inches from his as she snuggled into his neck. Brandt drew in a
long, deep breath and begged for restraint. Then her eyes opened,
and any rational thoughts he had fluttered right back out of his
mind. Brandt swallowed.

“Morning,” he said, the word sounding rough,
even to him.

Her gaze slipped down to his chest and her
fingers played against his shirt. Brandt just focused on breathing.
Breathing and ignoring the heat of her hips against his. Damn, but
she had to feel that. Then her hand pressed flat against his chest
and she moved, rising up until her lips snared his in a kiss.

Shit
. Brandt gripped her hips, but he
couldn’t push her away. Instead, he dragged her closer, his body
straining up into hers, his mouth opening to invite her inside. Her
tongue writhed against his, teasing, tasting, and Brandt growled, a
low, dark sound. Then he rose up, turning her gently until she lay
on the couch with him leaning over her.

He broke the kiss first, but he didn’t pull
away. Not when his lips found the edge of her jaw, the smooth
hollow with her pulse, the curve of her neck. Timber shuddered
beneath him, her breath a whisper against his skin. Brandt pressed
his face into the side of her neck and inhaled. Her scent rolled
through him—wolf and female—and he wanted nothing more than to
taste it again.

But he’d already crossed far too many lines
this morning.

“Sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse, and
tried to pull back.

Timber’s ragged laugh hiccupped beneath him.
“My fault. I started that one.”

Though he couldn’t for the life of him figure
out why. She was blunt, callous at times, off-putting. She’d made
no secret about her dislike of having a Hound around the house, and
yet her fingers were still clutching his shirt, one leg still
wrapped around his, holding him to her.

“Thank you,” Timber said, reaching up with
her other hand to run her fingers along the edge of his jaw. “For
last night.”

A tinge of fear and sadness crept into her
gaze.

“Any time.” Though, if they always ended up
like this in the morning...

Her eyes softened as she stared up at him. “I
don’t know what it is about you that makes me feel safe.”

Hell. He didn’t know either, but he was
honored. Judging by the dark circles under her eyes and the
panicked screams last night, he didn’t think she ever got much
sleep. And the wary, everyone-out-of-my-life attitude she
maintained told him she didn’t let many people in, either. The fact
that he could help her feel safe, even just a little, shocked the
hell out of him.

Brandt touched her temple, trailing his
fingers down along the length of her hair. He watched as she closed
her eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch. Most people wouldn’t
realize the vulnerable she voluntarily put herself in when she
closed her eyes, but it took trust to take away one of your senses
in the presence of another person, especially for someone like
Timber. The fact she could trust him at all, even for a
second...Brandt shook his head.

She released him then, slowly, and he mourned
the loss of her warmth when she began to pull away. Brandt dragged
himself off the couch and took a few steps back, needing to put
some distance between them. Something about her made his brain
short-circuit, especially when she kissed him.

Timber rolled to a sitting position, and
Brandt watched her notice where she’d ended up on the couch, an
edge of a smile touching her lips. She looked up at him, not shying
away from the moment like most would. “So, what’s on your list for
today?”

He opened his mouth to answer her when he
heard his phone ring, muffled and soft. It sounded again and
Brandt’s eyes tracked the noise to the couch, where a sliver of
black peeked from between the couch cushions.