Caleb (2 page)

Ah,
Caleb. It’d been such a long time since she’d met a man who’d piqued her
interest, she wasn’t sure certain parts of her hadn’t atrophied. She’d even
debated whether she was hormonally deficient, but one second in Caleb’s
presence, one brief connection with his energy, and suddenly more hormones than
she could contain were running amok, making demands and taking over her thought
processes. It was as lovely a surprise as his feigned indifference was
irritating.

Like
he was fooling anyone. Allie huddled deeper into her coat and blew out a
breath. Mr. Studly-but-silent wanted her. He was just, for some reason,
resisting doing anything about it. Well, if he thought he could out stubborn
her, he was in for a shock. She’d once perched in a tree for three rainy, wet
miserable days, drawing crowds and newscasters until the city had agreed to
hold off cutting down a tree until the baby raccoons who lived there were old
enough to move on. Momma raccoon hadn’t been any more thrilled with her sit-in
than her butt, which sported a bruised imprint of that branch for a week, but
she’d stuck it out because there were some things worth fighting for. The lives
of innocents being one of them.

Nope,
no one, but no one, could out stubborn her. Sooner or later, she’d have Caleb
talking, and once they dealt with whatever issue he felt kept them apart, the
man was going to stop hiding his attraction and start doing something about it.
And when he did, he damn well better not turn out to be a dud. She absolutely wouldn’t
forgive him for that. Not after making her work so hard.

The
growl, coming from the right, stopped her in her tracks. Low and threatening,
it rumbled along her nerves, bringing every childhood nightmare to the fore.
She searched the shadows for the source, but it was too deep to see anything.
And truth be told, since it didn’t sound like she was facing a Chihuahua with
an attitude problem, she wasn’t too anxious to get up close and personal with
whatever she’d disturbed. The growl came again. Deeper. Louder.

She
scouted the side of the road for a weapon. The most she came up with was one
rotted twig and a handful of loose gravel. None of which looked substantial
enough to take on what suddenly stepped out of the gloom.

It
wasn’t a Chihuahua, or even a dog. It was a wolf. She’d never seen one before,
but that didn’t diminish her conviction. And it was huge. Its back stood as
tall as her chest. Its head was massive and so were its fangs—dear God—she
could have used those last Halloween when she was trying to scare off the
rambunctious teenagers egging her house. She backed up another step. The wolf
took two forward, coming into the light, its coat glowing as eerily white as
its eyes blazed a ghastly yellow.

Lowering
its head, it stepped closer, the hackles on its ruff raised in a clear threat.

Three
emotions ripped through her at once. Fear, disbelief, and anger. Of the three,
the last took root. She was so sick of this. Every time she got a new life
started, something came along and yanked the rug out from under her. First it
had been her father, then her fiancé, and lastly the pompous head chef at the
plush Empire Hotel.

Maybe
she didn’t have a thick ruff to puff up and make her look bigger, but she had a
ton of pent-up resentment and plenty of attitude to bring to the discussion.

“Back
off,” she warned with a growl of her own, trying to project aggression rather
than fear, throwing some mental force behind the effort. Just in case animals
really were naturally telepathic.

To
her surprise, the animal paused and tilted its head, almost as if it were
listening. She added more “back off” aggression to her mental litany. Reaching
into her pocket, she worked her keys between her fingers. With a start, she
felt the small penknife attached to the chain. She’d forgotten about that.
Using her coat as a brace, she pried the blade open. It wasn’t much of a
weapon. At most she could take out the wolf’s eye, while it could do a hell of
a lot more damage to her, but if she was going to die here tonight, she was not
going meekly.

She
pulled the knife out of her pocket. The keys jangled obnox iously. The wolf
lifted its lip, displaying those vicious teeth. It was trying to intimidate
her, and on many levels it succeeded, but on another level it was really
pissing her off. At no time in her life plan had she written down to die as
tabloid fodder under the teeth and nails of a killer wolf. She gripped her
makeshift weapon and took a fortifying breath.

If it
wasn’t on her to-do list, it simply wasn’t getting done.

Her
bravado lasted right up until the huge wolf moved, more of a shifting of its
weight than a real step, seeming to float over the frozen ground. Every
survival instinct screamed
run
. She managed one panicked gasp and a step
back before it caught her, shoving its nose into her crotch, snarling when she
flinched.

If it
was a warning, she was incapable of heeding it. Terror was a great motivator
and having this thing so close scared her witless. Jabbing downward with the
knife, she aimed for the wolf’s right eye. At the last second, the animal
jerked its head aside. The blade hit bone, deflected and sliced down the wolf’s
snout. The fur of its muzzle brushed the side of her hand as metal tore through
flesh, the softness a shocking counterpoint to the violence of the act. The
ferocity of the wolf’s response was a raspy snarl that defined retribution.

Oh
shit!
She jumped back. Now she’d
pissed it off.

The
wolf reared up. Its huge paws slammed into her chest, driving the air from her
lungs. Her keys went flying and so did she. There was a moment of
disorientation, and then she was on her back on the ground, staring up at the
gaping jaws of the wolf as shock waves from the hard landing reverberated
through her body.

The
wolf was in no hurry now that it had her pinned. It lowered its head with
taunting slowness, jaws angling in, spreading wider as they got closer to her
neck. Its claws stabbed through the padding of her coat into the ridge of her
collarbone with equally agonizing slowness. She tore her gaze off those
gleaming teeth, crashed into the barrier of the wolf’s eyes . . . and paused.

If
she didn’t know this was an animal, didn’t know it was incapable of human
emotion, she’d swear the beast was laughing at her. Playing with her like a cat
played with a mouse. Amusing itself on her fear.

As if
sensing her thoughts, the wolf’s grin broadened, wrinkling its snout into a
savage grimace that hit squarely on that primal core of genetic fear every
human possessed. A drop of blood dripped from its wound, slapping her cheek in
a hot splash. She cringed and closed her eyes when the animal leaned in, its
fetid breath hitting her face a split second before the equally repugnant
roughness of its tongue touched the same spot. The chuff of air it emitted
sounded too damned much like laughter. She opened her eyes, took in the wolf’s
expression, and just knew deep down in the only place that mattered, that the
animal was getting off on her terror.

The
sick son of a bitch.

Anger
surged up behind her fear, swamping it in a torrent of backed-up rage. She
glanced down between their bodies and found inspiration. Grabbing handfuls of
the coarse fur on either side of the bloody muzzle, she braced her arms and
added a snarl of her own to the mix. “Fuck you.”

Before
the last syllable ended, she drove the hard point of her mini boots up into the
beast’s groin, feeling a sense of satisfaction as they sank deep into the soft
flesh before striking bone.

She’d
never heard a sound like what came out of the wolf’s mouth as it reared back
and spun around snapping savagely, missing her foot by a breath. She didn’t
wonder at it or catalog it for future reference. She just scrambled to her feet
and took off running, the hoarse howl that followed her raising the hairs on the
back of her neck and sending a chilling surge of adrenaline through her body.
One glance over her shoulder showed the wolf in pursuit, eyes glowing eerily
bright, all illusions of laughter gone from its expression as it raced after
her.

Oh
God, she needed a miracle.

She
didn’t hear or see a thing, but one minute she was running for her life and the
next something big and hard knocked her flat on her butt directly in the path
of the oncoming wolf.
Oh God. Oh God.
She threw her hands over her head,
curling herself into a ball, making herself as small a target as possible for
those fangs.

Moonlight
winked under shadow. There was a loud thump and then a vicious chorus of snarls
punctuated the night, swiftly followed by the bone-chilling clash of sharp
teeth. She lowered her arms in time to see two shadows blend into one hellish,
writhing mass of primitive fury.

Another
wolf, Allie realized as she rolled to her knees and panted for air. Her miracle
was another wolf, black and as big as the first, and from the timbre of its
growls, more than a little ticked off. Good. She hoped it killed the first.
Though it was irrational, she couldn’t help but attribute human characteristics
to the first wolf, and if she’d had to analyze him, she’d have pegged him as a
serial killer run amok. He just had that cold, disconnected feel to his energy.

She
lurched back as the two wolves rolled toward her, barely missing a slash from
the gray wolf’s teeth as they whirled past. She needed to get out of here. She
also needed her keys because without them she had nowhere to go and no defense
at all. She cautiously edged to where they gleamed in the moonlight, swallowing
back terror, reaching for the anger that got her through so many scrapes as she
took another step. One more and she was within two feet of the wolves. One foot
from her keys. Never taking her eyes off the fighting animals, she stretched
for the leather key chain. The second wolf glanced her way, its deep green eyes
glowing red around the edges. For one brief moment their gazes connected and in
the fringes of her mind came an impression of fury, determination, and an
imperative.

Run.

As
she blinked in shock, her fingers an inch from the keys, the first wolf moved
in, taking advantage of the second’s distraction. His teeth flashed eerily in
the moonlight as he dove for the black wolf’s neck. With a twist of its body,
it had her savior pinned.

The
order to run echoing in her mind, every sensible instinct telling her to obey,
she stood there, and knew—just knew—she was the stupidest woman alive because
even though he wasn’t human, and even though he probably planned on eating her,
too, she couldn’t just leave the black wolf to die. Not when it was her fault
he’d been distracted in the first place. Not when he’d saved her life. She just
wasn’t made that way.

Grabbing
the keys, she hustled to the left and took aim. With a quick prayer that God
really did watch out for fools and idiots, she kicked the gray wolf as hard as
she could, right in the testicles.

“Leave
him alone!” she hollered, terror and anger pitching her voice to almost the
same high tenor of the gray wolf’s muffled howl.

It
turned, its eyes glowing, fangs dripping blood, and came at her, one measured
step at a time, looking no weaker from the fight, and none the worse for her
kick. And that smile, that totally evil smile was back on its face as the
powerful muscles in its shoulders bunched in preparation to take her down.

Oh
God, she should have run when she’d had the chance.

This
time the thought that pushed into her mind was more coherent.

Goddamn
it. Run!

She
blinked. She’d recognize that deep baritone anywhere. That was Caleb’s voice.
The second wolf heaved to its feet, blood pouring in a dark river from its torn
neck, and charged the first, colliding with the gray wolf’s side in a violent
crash. Air grunted from the gray wolf’s lungs before momentum carried it and
those gnashing teeth away.

Allie
dragged a shuddering breath into her own lungs, assimilated the near miss, and
then for once did as ordered. She ran. Straight down the road toward her house.
As fast as she could, the sounds of the battle not fading from her mind with
distance, actually seeming to increase with each step she took until she wanted
to cover her ears and scream from the primitive fury battering her sanity.

With
a suddenness that made her stumble, the noise stopped. No grunts. No snarls. No
snapping of teeth. Just a hollow aching void that hurt more than the rage. She
stopped running, clutched her side against the searing stitch, and listened.
The calm of the night enfolded her once again in an ethereal beauty, unfazed by
the violence she knew had occurred, revealing nothing of the outcome.

And
then it came, that strange connection and along with it the knowledge that
that
was what she’d been searching for. It wasn’t as strong, and it wobbled with an
uneven tempo, but the voice came to her again.

Run.

It
was Caleb’s voice. She knew it in her bones. She’d studied up enough on psychic
phenomenon to be convinced it was possible, but she’d never thought to
experience it. But she was. With Caleb Johnson. And he was telling her to run
in a mental voice so weak it was barely audible. Instead of running, she
hesitated.