Desert Blood (The Wolves of Twin Moon Ranch Book 2) (4 page)

Get away! Just keep him in your dreams. Nice dreams. Intimate dreams, where he’ll always be gentle and kind. Don’t let him close!

But he was close. Closer now. Power glinted off him like the sun off the ocean—power and something more. Not greed, not lust. Just…a yearning. That was it.

Heather searched for something, anything to say. “Guess I better go.” She spoke the words, but her limbs refused to move. Not when he stood so near.

“What’s the rush? Got a date?” With his fair hair backlit by party lights, he looked like the son of Apollo and not a mere mortal.

Heather shook her head. “No rush.” Definitely no date. But didn’t he have one—the dark-haired beauty? “You’re a good dancer,” she blurted as the image swung through her mind.

“Only with my sister. With anyone else, I’ve got two left feet.”

His sister? Heather’s mind pulled up the image of the woman. “That’s your sister?”

“My half sister, Tina. You remember Ty?”

The thundercloud? “Sure.”

“He and Tina came first. Then my father got together with my mother and had me and my little sister, Carly.”

Now it made sense. His dark-haired dance partner did resemble Ty, and when Heather replayed the scene, she realized they’d danced loose and light. Nothing like the intimacy between Ty and Lana. She exhaled. “Half sister, huh?”

Cody cracked a smile. “Doesn’t mean she’s only half bossy to her poor, innocent little brother.”

“Innocent?” Little? Sweet, sensual, yes. But not innocent. And nowhere near little.

The golden smile of a guilty man flashed. “Absolutely innocent.”

“Why do I doubt that?” she managed.

“I don’t know. Why?”

“Oh, just because.”
Because I see the laughter in your eyes. Because of the way you hide behind your smile. Because that nick in your ear tells a different story.

She’d been watching him the past few days. At first, she fell for that happy-go-lucky cowboy persona. But every so often, she’d catch his mask slipping, as it had when he watched his brother dance. Underneath, Cody’s eyes flashed with fierce determination—to do what, she couldn’t tell. Then he’d catch himself and paste the smile back on. How often had she seen that in her students? Once a child assumed a role—class clown, science nerd, beauty queen, whatever—it was hard to let it go.

Cody. Little boy, lost and lonely, or grown man, tough and unassailable? He hadn’t quite found his balance between the two.

Right now, the mask was firmly in place. “I was a very good boy!” He winked. “If you leave out the time with the skunk and the glue on the chair...”

She knew the type exactly. And how hard it was to break out that self-imposed persona. She turned to the car. “I really should get moving.”

“No dancing?”

Heather shrugged. Not invited. She was an outsider here, just as she’d been everywhere else.

“What’s the hurry?”

“They said I shouldn’t stay after dark.”

His voice dropped, face earnest. “One dance before you go?”

She tilted her head at him. “I thought you had two left feet.”

A grin, small but sincere. She wanted to reach out and grab hold of him—the real Cody, now.

“Let me prove it.” The way his words hit the air made Heather wonder what else he had to prove.

He put his hand out, and the gesture brought her to a different place, a different night. The night she nearly died. For a moment, all her muscles threatened to shut down. Heather swallowed the scream, blinking the panic away.

His eyes narrowed on hers, and she caught her breath. Unlike the eyes of that terrifying night, these were brown, tinged with gold. Safe eyes.

“Everything okay?” His voice was soft, coaxing her back from the edge of a cliff. Heather nodded robotically. She could do this.

“I’m fine.” Right. Now she was the one wearing a mask.

Slowly, carefully, like a man handling a spooked filly, Cody led her to the small space between her front bumper and a hitching post. His hands were callused and strong. Comforting, even.

The spinster’s voice was back in Heather’s head.
Not so close!
But only her ears got the message; the rest of her was melting fast.

Cody stepped into a slow dance. Not too close, not too tight, just…nice. They fit together just right, her chin just over his shoulder, his arm around the curve of her waist.

Get away! Get home!

Home? Home felt like right here.

Heather promised herself she wouldn’t get carried away. She’d head home soon. She’d—

Snuggle her cheek against his? The salty scent of the sea was there, so crisp and fresh she knew it wasn’t just cologne. Music drifted past, maybe on the same magical ether that made her feet so light. Her head felt light, too. The man who had turned down all of those women wanted to dance with her.

Her skin was tingling. “You definitely don’t have two left feet,” she murmured. He kept his nose to her hair. God, that felt good.

“The left foot is mine. The right foot is yours.” His voice was husky; his heart tapped an oath for every word. “We’re made for each other, you and me.”

The warning voice, meanwhile, cried from a distant and rapidly sinking ship.
Don’t trust anyone…

Then he stopped dancing and his eyes were on her lips, and it was impossible to heed anything but the call to meet him halfway. He leaned in just as she rocked forward on her toes, holding her breath as they kissed.

It was a meltdown kiss, long and light. So perfect that she had to close her eyes to take it all in.

His lips were soft. Silky. Innocent. Maybe the man hadn’t been bullshitting her, after all. Because kissing Cody was like riding a puffy white cloud through a gorgeous summer sky. She leaned in, wanting more. His lips shaped tiny letters over hers, starting with a gentle B, and then slowly moving on to an M that massaged her mouth. Then his lips opened, forming vowels—little A’s and O’s that tasted like heaven. That kiss stretched on and on, and she didn’t want the alphabet to ever run out. In the end, it was Cody who broke it off slowly, puckering so that they would only part at the last possible moment.

If it hadn’t been him there with his eyes closed, drinking in that kiss, it would have been her.

Her heart thumped, about to lean in for a second round, but a bat fluttered past, swooshing right over their heads.

They broke apart to let it pass, and to Heather, the separation hurt. It actually hurt.

So did reality: the fact that she should have been on the road by now. That this could never be.

“I have to go,” she whispered.

His face flickered, a signal that the mask was back. The cool bachelor, the jokester, was about to cover his tracks with a witty line. But no—he caught it and shot her a tight smile instead, one tinged with regret. “See you soon?”

Heather sucked in a deep breath. It could never be soon enough. She nodded then slipped into the car and drove away, eyes more on the rearview mirror than the road ahead.

CHAPTER SIX

Fear and desire. Cody had never smelled one so close to the other. He replayed the encounter over and over, through the night and into the next day. He wanted more of that kiss. Wanted to do it again and again, soft and light until he’d kissed away that haunted look in her eyes.

Who did that to her? Who scared her right to the bone? Because even when she lit up at his kiss, she was afraid. The thought had his wolf straining at its bonds. He wanted to chase after her car and stay close. Keep her safe. Make her his.

Mate! Don’t let her go!

It took a long and sweaty night for Cody to realize that it wasn’t just his wolf claiming her; the man was howling for her now, too. It was all he could do not to rush out in search of her at the crack of dawn. But one dance would have to be enough—for now.

He had to figure things out first. Like if he was really sure.

How can you not be sure?
the wolf growled.

Okay, maybe he was sure. But what did it matter if the pack would never accept her? And anyway,
she
had to be sure. And how the hell could he ever get past that step? It’s not like he could just out and tell her.

Heather, my wolf and I want you to be our mate. Let me bite you and make you mine forever.

Jesus, it would sound like some kind of horror show to her. And he’d never be able to explain. What would he say?

I promise it won’t hurt, baby.

Right. Like that would work, even if it were true. Mated wolves—male and female—all flashed sultry grins when they talked about the mating bite. Like it was the highest of all highs. But even if it were true, she’d think he was nuts.

And really, what did he have to offer her?

Undying love?
his wolf, suddenly a poet, filled in.

Like that would be enough. Bringing any human around to the idea of mating a shapeshifter would be hard enough. Bringing a frightened one—no matter how tough she pretended to be—would be even harder. He’d have to bide his time, give her space.

Except time was the enemy. Heather’s teaching contract only lasted for a few more weeks. He had only that long to convince her to stay. To be his.

Only that long to convince the pack to accept a human. But Christ, that would take an eternity.

Why wait?
his wolf murmured, low and angry.
We just take her now! They can’t stop us after the mating bite.

Cody pushed the beast back into its cage. That wasn’t the right way to go about winning his mate. For now, he had to wait. In the meantime, he needed to support Kyle with the murder case, even with Heather’s wild strawberry scent lingering in his nose.

He’d woken the morning after the kiss—Saturday—to the news that there’d been another highway murder, this time in Arizona. The killer was moving closer to pack territory. Cody drove three hours east in grim silence to where he’d meet Kyle. He tried listening to his usual radio station on the way but quickly flipped to a new channel. That lovestruck cowboy stuff was not what he needed to hear right now.

There, a classic road song. That was better.

He lasted all of thirty seconds, though, before flipping back to the crooning cowboy.
Waiting hearts and sharpened darts…
Junk, but somehow, it struck a chord in him.

Except he needed to keep his mind on the job and not the woman, so he turned it off again. But even that didn’t keep her out of his mind—all the way across the state and into the parking lot of the Graham County morgue where his packmate was waiting.

He followed Kyle’s heavy boots to the lower level of the building. Kyle flashed his badge, hammered down a corridor, and pushed through a pair of heavy metal doors.

“Officer Williams,” the coroner greeted Kyle. Behind him, a body lay stretched on the examination table.

Cody shook his head, glancing at it.
Jesus.
He couldn’t see her face, but she looked young. Too young to die such a violent death.

Kyle nodded. “Doctor Nguyen.” He motioned toward Cody. “This is Officer Hawthorne of the Nevada Highway Patrol.”

That was Cody’s cover story, one backed up by a genuine-looking badge. Kyle’s, on the other hand, was the real thing. He was one of the few pack members who worked a job in the human world—a job with fringe benefits as far as the pack was concerned. It never hurt to get a heads-up on crimes and investigations in the area, whether those involved shifters or not.

The coroner nodded without shaking hands and led them to the examination table.

She was the third murder victim in a series that had just extended from New Mexico into Arizona. Like the others, she’d been lured to the side of the highway then repeatedly slashed and left to die. So far, police had nothing. No prints, no witnesses, no leads.

Cody stepped up slowly, wishing he could somehow give this woman back her dignity. He could see her from the chest down, lying naked on cold steel, gashed in a dozen places. A shell without a soul.

“We have an ID on the victim,” the coroner started. “Age twenty-six, no criminal record. No sign of drugs or alcohol. Roommates reported nothing suspicious when she left home.”

Cody clenched a fist to keep his claws sheathed. God, he’d like to give the killer a taste of his own medicine.

The coroner went through his report in a monotone, detailing one gash after another. “Rough-edged blade, here, here, and here. But look closer,” he said, pointing to a slash on the victim’s abdomen.

Cody stepped forward, catching sight of her face. His hand splayed on the table to keep his knees from buckling at the sight of champagne-colored hair and startled green eyes trained lifelessly on the ceiling.

“What’s the matter, Officer Hawthorne,” Kyle goaded, “seen a ghost?”

Now that the first shock was past, Cody could see it wasn’t Heather. But the resemblance was close. Too close. He shot a mental roar off to Kyle to put him in his place and took grim satisfaction in watching the man wobble at the unexpected force of it. Didn’t hurt to remind the man who held rank here.

“This is the unusual part,” the coroner explained, oblivious to his audience. “A puncture wound, underneath.”

Cody froze. It was a worst-case scenario, if it was what he suspected. He forced a neutral expression over his face as he listened to the coroner go on.

“Most of the wounds are too deep and rough to ascertain if there are more puncture marks. But this one bears a trace.”

Cody followed Kyle’s eyes to the victim’s neck. “Nowhere else?” Kyle asked, voice a forced calm. His fingers scraped through his short, spiky hair.

“Nowhere,” the coroner said and continued with his report. “Evidence of rape…” His flat monotone only made the word uglier.

Cody slipped behind Kyle to lean in over the woman’s neck. He sniffed, close. Nothing but the last traces of a cheap perfume mixed with the acrid smell of fear. No trace of what he was looking for. He shook his head at Kyle.

“Whoever bled her, he was a thorough son of a bitch,” the coroner added. “Bled her completely dry. Not a drop left.”

Kyle shot Cody a meaningful look.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking?