Spirit of the Wolf (19 page)
Read Spirit of the Wolf Online
Authors: Vonna Harper
Tags: #Man-Woman Relationships, #Ranchers, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Love Stories
“Is that what you want?” Matt blurted. His horse’s ears swung back toward him. “For me to forgive you for the way your insanity impacted me? If I do, if I acknowledge that you had no control over what happened, will you leave me alone?”
Of course his father didn’t answer; he never did. Instead the dead man nibbled at pieces of Matt’s mind.
A sudden thought had Matt sitting high in the saddle. Shit, what if that explained his inability to keep his hands off Cat? Was his damnable mentally ill old man trying to take his son down the same path?
Cat!
The back-to-back barrel-racing training sessions had gone well. Listening to the two seventeen-year-olds giggle, Cat wondered if she’d ever been that silly. Hopefully not. Probably not because her parents would have never allowed it. Bottom line, she’d enjoyed the girls’ enthusiasm and felt good about what they’d accomplished today.
Now the two were gone, she’d fed her horses, and it was time for her to get something to eat. Instead of going inside, however, Cat continued to watch the roan mare pick through hay. Betsy was pregnant but because she wasn’t due to give birth until spring, she hadn’t lost her girlish figure. Of course, the term
girlish
was relative. No one would ever call Betsy lean and mean.
girlish
was relative. No one would ever call Betsy lean and mean.
Burying herself in work today had been good for her, Cat acknowledged. For hours she’d focused on what paid the bills. Okay, so Ghost Wolf continued his residence in a part of her mind, but at least she’d stopped feeling overwhelmed by recent experiences. She also had a plan, thanks to a call to Helaku, who’d said of course he’d look at her photographs whenever she brought them to him.
And if Helaku didn’t sound surprised by either the call or her request . . . chalk that up to her overactive imagination.
The roan blew out a breath, which sent hay scattering. Cat tried to swallow. How long had it been since she’d had something to drink? She tried to put her mind to what she could fix for dinner only to have her thoughts slide to Matt.
She should have called and let him know he wasn’t the only one who’d seen Ghost Wolf today. Once she had, she’d apologize for cutting and running when their paths crossed on the road to his ranch. Somehow she’d explain that the things Addie had told her had knocked her off balance emotionally and she hadn’t been in any shape to talk to him.
Except talking wasn’t what she was interested in.
Raking her fingers down her braid, Cat went in search of enough air to, hopefully, counter need. Yes, fucking. Not talking. Two bodies threatening to combust and clothes being yanked off and hands grasping body parts.
No matter how dangerous the act, she couldn’t stop herself from running her hand between her legs. Pressing her middle finger against her opening, she pretended it was Matt’s cock.
Forget dinner. She’d stumble into her bedroom and masturbate, or maybe she’d rip off her clothes and sprawl on the recliner where Matt had used and abused her.
Damn, she needed abuse!
Flattening a hand over her flaming cheek, she opened her legs even more and added another finger to the rough massage. Could she make herself come like this? Climax out in front of Mother Nature and ancient Native American gods?
Surprised by the thought, she forced her hand to still. Her fingers remained against her crotch, however, ready for action. She’d been raised by parents who hadn’t given religion the slightest priority and seldom went to church herself. As central Oregon had spun its web around her, she’d embraced Mother Nature. If she was going to believe in anything, it would be land, sky, and water, because without those things, this incredible place wouldn’t exist.
If only she knew more about how and what Native Americans worshipped.
At that, a mental lightbulb went on. She could start selfeducating herself by getting on the Internet. Armed with purpose—and distraction from sexual heat—she planted one boot ahead of the other. Before she could take another, however, a new sensation struck.
No, not new. Just more than she could handle.
Compartmentalize, yes, that’s what she’d do. Ghost Wolf had found her again. He stood on a nearby rise, completing a triangle with her and her house being the other two points. The horses paid no attention. The wolf pack wasn’t with him. He was glaring at her—no doubt about it, glaring. Hatred streamed from him and threatened to burn her.
Logic, getting done what needed to be done. One step followed by another. Arms at her sides and hands lifted a little in case . . . in case what? She needed to fight Ghost Wolf? Lots of luck with that. Concentrate on getting the walking done. Head like an arrow for the front door. Give thanks because all it would take was a quick turn of the knob. Less than a minute and she’d be inside. Safe.
Unless Ghost Wolf could walk through walls.
No matter that she reached for self-control with every bit of strength she had in her, the possibility that he was a ghost unhinged her. Clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming—which might have shattered her—she broke into a run.
So did Ghost Wolf.
Out of the corner of her eye, she noted how perfectly every muscle worked with the others. Unlike dogs, whose back ends often tried to outrun their front legs, Ghost Wolf moved like flowing mercury, like a waterfall. Coming toward her. Overtaking her. If she wasn’t so afraid she couldn’t reach the house in time, she would have applauded his grace.
Breathing like a freight train, Cat took the three steps leading to the porch in a desperate leap. Ghost Wolf’s breath seared the back of her neck and arms. Screeching, she grabbed the knob with both hands and twisted, bending back a nail as she did. She squeezed through the opening, ripping her arm on something, and whirled, slamming the door and leaning against it as she fumbled with the lock.
Outside, Ghost Wolf breathed.
She hadn’t bothered with a dead bolt; who locked their doors out here? If the beast threw himself against the door, would it give way?
A massive wolf in her living room, claiming the space and backing her into a corner much as Matt had the last time he’d been here.
Was something of Matt in the creature?
To her surprise, she laughed. Then because she had nothing to do except listen to claws scraping on the porch floor, she pondered whether she was on to something or out of her mind. Nothing came together, no logical explanation, not even a supernatural one—not that she knew anything about the supernatural, which until the past few days she hadn’t believed in.
Time for a course correction. She was no longer a cynic. She could no longer scoff at ghost hunters and psychics. When it came time to write her memoir, this chapter would be a doozy.
One not a soul would believe.
Except for Matt.
The claw sounds faded and then ended, leaving her in silence. After checking to see if she’d indeed engaged the flimsy locking device, she sprinted across the room and pushed
the
recliner in front of the door—like that was going to do any good.
the
recliner in front of the door—like that was going to do any good.
She had to go to the window to see if Ghost Wolf was still around, but what if her presence prompted him to leap at the glass? Shaken by the thought of blood staining his fur, she gripped her upper arms and hugged herself. Maybe the beast didn’t bleed.
“What are you?” she breathed. She wondered if he could hear her. “I don’t understand. That’s the hell of it—I don’t understand.”
Don’t you?
Closing a hand over her throat to stifle a shriek, Cat waited out the impossible. The question had to have come from her subconscious. No way could the beast out there have spoken to her.
Forcing one foot in front of the other, she slowly killed the distance between herself and the picture glass window she’d always loved but now feared. She’d bought this place as much for the unspoiled setting as for the practical acreage. Maybe in reaction to her parents’ insistence that she couldn’t, wouldn’t, and shouldn’t live here, she’d insisted the fifty-year-old house was perfect. What did they mean, isolated? She was surrounded by horses, antelope, deer, rodents, snakes, insects, and more bird species than she could ever identify.
She’d fallen heir to several thankfully neutered barn cats and an elderly hound. After Roscoe died last year, she’d needed time to mourn the loving dog. Now, as soon as it was old enough to be weaned, she’d take ownership of one of Daria’s puppies—two if Daria had her way.
But would a dog be safe here?
No matter how slowly she walked, Cat eventually reached the window. Not giving herself time to chicken out, she all but pressed her nose against the glass and cupped her hands against her temples to block out the glare.
Nothing. The trees she’d planted swayed to the wind’s tune, and butterflies and hummingbirds laid claim to her roses.
For the first time since moving here, she feared her solitude.
After back-stepping, she dug out her cell phone. Out of habit, she started to call Matt, but she couldn’t. Didn’t dare.
But if not him, then who? No one, not even Helaku, would believe what had just happened.
Staring out the window again, she acknowledged that it wasn’t just the solitude she couldn’t deal with. She suddenly hated this place she’d believed she’d always love.
As for Matt, how in the hell did she feel about him?
Beyond the physical, that is, she amended, because she’d die needing his body plastered to hers.
19
M
att should have driven to Cat’s place. Okay, so the road was a less-direct route than cross-country, but a horse was slower. Keeping the six-year-old pinto to a trot, he mentally replayed what he’d done since getting the cattle in place earlier today. After closing the gate behind the small herd, he’d gone to the barn where he’d rubbed down the quarter horse he’d used for the roundup. The whole time his hands had been at work, his thoughts, hell, more than that, had fixed on Cat. At the same time, he acknowledged that caring for the horse had been a personal act, flesh touching flesh.
att should have driven to Cat’s place. Okay, so the road was a less-direct route than cross-country, but a horse was slower. Keeping the six-year-old pinto to a trot, he mentally replayed what he’d done since getting the cattle in place earlier today. After closing the gate behind the small herd, he’d gone to the barn where he’d rubbed down the quarter horse he’d used for the roundup. The whole time his hands had been at work, his thoughts, hell, more than that, had fixed on Cat. At the same time, he acknowledged that caring for the horse had been a personal act, flesh touching flesh.
Maybe grooming had tapped him into Cat, although more likely muscle memory was responsible for his dangerous fixation. His body responded to hers in every way possible, just as hers had to his. Beyond all reason, he’d known he couldn’t let the day end without seeing her again.
Without reassuring himself that she was all right.
Damn it, Ghost Wolf had it in for him, not her. The creature had no reason to hate or harm her while . . . Groaning, he pressed the heel of his free hand to his forehead.
He couldn’t think worth a damn, couldn’t comprehend why Ghost Wolf wanted him dead, if that was it. Instead of working his way through the question, he’d saddled the pinto because he needed to feel something living under him and had taken off for Cat’s spread. The time factor involved in getting to her hadn’t concerned him until he’d covered some three miles, and of course by then it was too late to turn around.
Even with the saddle between him and the pinto, the animal’s heat seeped into him. Lifting himself off the leather, he tried to release some of the pressure on his half erection. During those moments when the rough terrain distracted him from thoughts of Cat, his cock settled back into its natural state only to spring back to life each time she stormed into his mind. Despite his attempts to convince himself there was no reason to be concerned for her welfare, he couldn’t shake off horrific images of fangs ripping into feminine flesh.
I’m a mess, Cat. Any chance you’d fuck my brains out so I no longer have to think?
Not long after taking off, he’d carried on a mental conversation with Ghost Wolf. He’d pulled out one argument after another for why the predator had no earthly reason to want anything to do with him, but therein was the rub—
earthly
didn’t factor in.
earthly
didn’t factor in.
Okay, he’d ride to Cat’s place and hang around, unseen of course, until he’d convinced himself that neither Ghost Wolf nor the pack was around. That done, he’d return home, before dark.
Why did that matter? He wasn’t afraid of the dark.
Or rather he hadn’t been for years.
The land around Cat’s spread was nearly as flat as the proverbial pancake on three sides with a small hill to the west, which was where Matt and his mount now stood. He liked being able to look down without her knowing, but he also felt disloyal. She’d made it clear she didn’t want to see him today or for the foreseeable future. The hot and heavy and simple relationship they’d enjoyed was behind them, history. It was time to sever what little remained of their ties so he could focus on staying alive.
On learning what the hell was happening.
When the pinto lowered his head and pulled at grass despite the bit in his mouth, Matt started to pull up on the reins, but what did it matter? Other things were much more important.
His body felt as if it were becoming electrified, the sensation an unwanted reminder of the time he’d inadvertently touched an electric fence while standing on wet ground. The stinging shocks also reminded him of what it had felt like to want Cat so badly he hadn’t cared about the consequences—or her.
Yeah, that had been him, a dumb, stupid stallion determined to shove himself into the nearest pussy. Fortunately, the
mare
had been equally in heat.
mare
had been equally in heat.
Still fighting the electrical charges, he stood in the stirrups while studying every inch of land below and around him. He’d done the same earlier today while trying to convince himself that the wolf pack wasn’t near his herd. As soon as he’d assured himself Cat was safely in her house, he’d—Wait, was she in there? What if she was somewhere else, outside alone?
Her truck was parked between the house and barn. Surely she hadn’t taken off on foot.
Telling himself she might be in the barn, he pressed his heels against the pinto’s sides, but before the animal could start down the hill, he stopped him and dismounted. Maybe the pinto would stay around; maybe he would take off for home and hay. Matt would deal with that later.
He’d taken a half dozen or so steps when he realized he wasn’t simply walking. Instead, every movement felt like gliding. The more territory he covered, the more right what he was doing became. Not only did he no longer feel as if he’d touched a live wire, but also a sense of peace was taking over. This might be Cat’s land, but he, too, belonged here. The wind-sanded dirt and rocks welcomed him, waited for his boots to press down on them. These smells were part and parcel of him and the breeze essential to his genetic makeup. If necessary, he’d explain that to Cat, but hopefully she’d be so glad to see him and strip for him there’d be no need for an explanation.
Yes, she was here. In the house. He knew because her scent was separate from that of sage and earth. Pausing, he drank in the familiar and new and wrapped himself around her essence. A moment later, he stiffened. Unlike him, she wasn’t comfortable in her skin. After a few seconds spent listening to her heartbeat and finding her breathing’s rhythm, he acknowledged something else: Cat wanted to be anywhere except where she was.
Why? She’d always said she loved her land. Nothing had happened to change how she felt. Nothing except for Ghost Wolf.
And the way he’d acted around her the last few times.
He was trying to come up with an explanation for his aggressive behavior—no easy task when he simply wanted to be—when a new sensation tore into him. His already-alert senses sharpened.
There. Ghost Wolf. Coming from the back of Cat’s house and striding toward the corral that held her horses.
Fascinated, Matt watched as the great creature silently approached the nervous horses. He’d never heard of a wolf pack taking down a healthy, fully grown horse, not that it mattered. Only right now and Ghost Wolf did. Whinnying in alarm, the horses crowded the corral’s far end. One broke free of the group. Bucking and galloping by turn, it repeatedly circled the confining enclosure while Ghost Wolf settled himself on his haunches and watched.
The strength in Matt’s legs increased with every step as he headed toward the corral. He felt no need to run, and what thought fragments entered his mind soon slipped away. Somewhere deep inside lurked the possibility that his life might be in danger, but it didn’t matter.
As another horse joined the panicked one, Matt started to run his hand over his middle only to stop and frown. What was the old hunting knife with its sheath doing tucked into his waistband, and why had he thought he might need this particular one?
“No! Goddamn it, don’t you dare!”
Cat’s voice turned Matt toward the house. The front door slammed behind her. Holding a slender fire poker over her head, she hurried down the stairs and toward the still-sitting Ghost Wolf looking like a mother grizzly defending her cubs.
“Don’t!” Matt warned as he hurried toward her. “Stay away from him.”
Openmouthed, Cat gaped at him. “What are you doing here?”
Instead of admitting he didn’t know, he said, “You can’t beat him. He’ll kill you.”
That’s not what I’m here for.
Not believing what he’d just heard, Matt struggled to divide his attention between woman and beast. Moments ago he’d believed he belonged here as he’d never belonged anywhere. Now he wished he was anyone except who he was.
“Did you hear that?” Cat’s question barely reached him.
“Yes.”
“Oh, God!” Cat tried to run her fingers into her hair only to be stopped by her tightly done braid. “I don’t believe this is happening.”
Ghost Wolf had stood up while Matt’s attention was on Cat. The predator’s two-hundred-some pounds on a nearly six-foot-high frame dried his throat. Battling awe, disbelief, and something he refused to name, Matt simply accepted that Ghost Wolf existed. That done, he once more turned his attention to Cat, who continued to hold the fire poker like a weapon—a useless one.
Was the knife he should have gotten rid of years ago any better?
Every line of her body said she was willing to do whatever it took to save her horses. She had to be afraid, yet she faced the predator square on, which earned her his utmost respect.
More than respect, he amended, because Cat barely resembled the woman he’d believed her to be. She’d cast aside the civilized, sensitive, and sensual nature that had served her up to now, and she’d become an animal.
This beautiful creature ready to pit her puny weapon against a killer clawed at his sanity and reached deep inside to the beast he’d never before acknowledged. Feeling animal himself, he studied the female of the species they’d both become.
When she started walking again without taking her attention off Ghost Wolf, her reckless courage enveloped him. He breathed in her raw scent until it touched his cock and settled into him.
I didn’t expect that from you.
“Who is he talking to?” Cat demanded. “You or me?”
“Maybe both of us.”
Her eyes narrowing, she shook her head. “Oh, hell, it doesn’t matter. Listen to me, Ghost Wolf, or whatever you call yourself. If you hurt one of my horses, I’ll kill you.”
How?
Mouth hanging open, Cat shook her head. In the space of a couple of seconds, she’d gone from mother grizzly to confused woman. “I don’t know,” she muttered. “Somehow.”
You can’t. I’m timeless. Never-ending.
If asked, Matt couldn’t have explained why he was walking toward the woman who’d spent more time naked than clothed around him. Even with his ability to think splintering, he didn’t want her standing alone.
Stop!
“Why?” he demanded of Ghost Wolf. “What does what I do matter?”
You’re mine. You belong to me.
“No!” Cat screamed.
Yes.
“Why?” she demanded. “And what does hurting my horses have to do with—”
I wanted to see how you’d react to a threat.
Pressure built along Matt’s temples. Maybe Ghost Wolf’s unspoken words were responsible.
Perhaps Cat realized something was happening to him, because she stared at him with eyes that said she’d lay down her life for him.
“Leave us alone,” he told Ghost Wolf. The pressure in his skull continued to build, and he massaged the sides of his head. “You’re a wolf. You belong with the pack. They accept you.”
They do as I command, but I’m not one of them.
“Who are you, then?” Cat demanded.
As Ghost Wolf turned his attention from him to her, Matt chastised himself for not asking what might be the most important question. At least his headache had leveled off. As long it remained like this, he could concentrate. And maybe, somehow, he’d comprehend how this conversation could be taking place.
Who am I? You found the answer in the cave.
“I don’t understand.” Cat sounded young and frightened. “The drawings, you mean?”
Dismissing Cat with a curled lip, the creature settled his gaze on Matt. Time passed, each moment heavy and densely layered. The longer he fought to meet Ghost Wolf’s dark stare, the more he felt himself being drawn back in time to when his mentally out-of-control father had insisted he could see the past, present, and future in his son’s eyes.
“Stop it,” Cat blurted. “What are you doing?”
Pulled out of memories he thought he’d buried, Matt blinked the scene back into focus. The wolf creature now stood less than twenty feet away. Even with everything he had to comprehend, Matt pondered why Ghost Wolf’s nostrils weren’t moving.
Maybe the beast wasn’t alive.
I need you. You more than the pack I’ve waited for all this time. Knowing you were nearby kept me going. Without you—
“Matt, can you hear me?”
Angry, Matt spun toward Cat. His intention had been to demand she shut up so Ghost Wolf could finish. However, everything changed when his attention settled on her. Her eyes widened as her gaze slid to his cock.
“Now?” she asked.
Nodding, he slid his hand over his erection. In his mind’s eye, her clothing no longer existed. Instead she stood naked and ready for sex, her body saying that nothing else mattered.
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