“Damn good thing, too.”
The sound of footfalls coming into the house through the back door caught their attention. Sam stormed out of the bedroom.
“Lock the door,” Ryan warned Lelandi. Ready to shift and take care of the threat, he dropped his shirt on the end of the bed and took off after Sam.
As soon as they made it down the stairs, they saw Darien and his brothers stalking into the great room. “They shifted and took off,” Darien said, his brow furrowed, his face red. “Where are Carol and Lelandi?”
“Carol’s sedated and sleeping in her room. Lelandi’s with her,” Ryan said. “I’m staying with Carol until we catch the bastards.”
Jake growled, “You don’t tell a pack leader what he’s going to allow, not in his own territory, McKinley.”
Ryan suspected Jake was angrier about them losing the men who had taken Carol than that Ryan was making the rules in his brother’s territory. “I’m not budging on this.”
Darien looked at how underdressed Ryan was, and his own scowl deepened. “Where the hell are the rest of your clothes? You didn’t shape-shift out there, did you?”
Ryan had only managed to get his jeans on. Boxers were soaking wet, lying in the tub. Boots, socks, and a soapy down jacket remained on the bathroom floor, while his shirt was draped across the foot of the bed. No time for anything else when he thought the bad guys were storming the house and he might have to shift to take care of the menace.
Sam motioned to the stairs. “He had to wash the soap off Carol. But Lelandi was with him the whole time.”
Although Sam hadn’t really known what had gone on, Ryan appreciated the backup. But Darien glowered at Ryan, waiting for him to give his version.
“Hell, Darien, soap caked Carol’s hair and covered her body. She had soap in her eyes even. Lelandi couldn’t have managed washing her. What did you expect me to do? Leave her like that until you returned? As for guarding her until we catch these bastards? I’m staying with her, and that’s my final word.”
Darien’s scowl evaporated some. “As a bodyguard only. You can sit in the recliner at night and nap during the day. I’ll have others watch her while you catch up on your sleep.” Darien marched off to the stairs.
Tom glowered at Ryan and then headed up the stairs after his brother.
Sam moved toward the kitchen. “I’m getting myself another cup of coffee, and I’ll settle down here.”
Jake eyed Ryan for a moment more and then said, “Darien doesn’t like it that you want Carol for a mate. Bodyguard, my ass. Admit it, Ryan. You can’t quit thinking about her. But you can’t have her if you don’t believe in her abilities. Just remember that. She deserves better.”
He stalked off to join Sam in the kitchen.
Jake was right, of course. The thing of it was, no matter how much Ryan told himself psychics weren’t for real, he couldn’t help questioning his rigid beliefs. Hell, now he wanted to believe her more than he wanted to prove she didn’t have second sight.
So when did that happen?
Chapter 13
CAROL DRIFTED IN AND OUT OF NIGHTMARE WORLDS OF wolves and fighting, of teeth bared, growling and snarling, and of hackles raised, noses wrinkled, and amber eyes narrowed. Of the painful bite that changed her life forever. And then as if that wasn’t bad enough, she relived the pain jabbing her in the arm, the freezing cold and sticky wetness, her eyes burning, and exposure, na**d to the spring chill.
A whimper escaped her lips, and strong arms pulled her to a hot, hard body. She tried to recall when she’d felt those arms wrapped around her last in her drug- induced foggy conscience. She remembered hurried footfalls, the aroma of apple pies still lingering in the air… home. And… Ryan. That’s who had taken her from the cold and held her close, heating her chilled skin with his warm clothing and with his even hotter body. And now?
She smelled his unique scent, his maleness, the wind in his hair, the peach soap on his skin. Her peach soap? Had he showered using her shampoo?
No. She vaguely remembered him trying to rinse the soap from her eyes. The burning misery. She’d tried to cooperate. She really had tried. But her eyes had stung too much to oblige. Her brain had turned to mush again, and she’d slipped into darkness with no way out.
Then Lelandi had spoken softly to her, the noisy hair dryer nearly drowning out her words as Carol had tried to hear them. “You’re a match, dear Carol. You just need to ensure Ryan sees it before it’s too late.”
It was already too late. How could Carol love someone who didn’t trust in her abilities? Who believed she was lying? Or was just too dumb to know the truth?
She recalled the onions and garlic, the smell of the man who had kidnapped her, the feeling of hopelessness, of wanting to fight him off but being unable to. She tried to wriggle free and whimpered softly, attempting to cry out, to tell Darien and his brothers and Sam where she was. But then the crackle of gunfire sounded and she gave a small gasp.
“Shh, Carol, you’re safe. In your bedroom. With me, Ryan. You’re safe. Sleep.” Ryan’s words were sleepy, soothing, and masculine. His arms wrapped tighter around her, anchoring her to him, her lifeline, her protection.
She took a deep breath of him, blocking out all other memories and settling against his solid form. She felt a whisper of his warm breath against her hair and knew that if heaven existed, this was it. Maybe it wasn’t too late. Maybe she could convince the stubborn man of science to open his mind to another world.
She cuddled with him, his solid chest pillowing her head, his heart thumping with a steady beat against her ear, the heat of his body warming hers. His hand stroked down her back, lightly, tenderly in a comforting way. She purred like Puss, mesmerized with Ryan’s gentle touch. And could have stayed like this forever.
Hell, Ryan really was trying to be a gentleman here, but the way Carol’s fingers spread across his chest with a feather-light touch, the way she snuggled closer to him, one leg slipping over his, the way she softly purred like a kitten in ecstasy, he was having the damnedest time keeping their relationship strictly impersonal.
Her T-shirt had risen again, and her soft na**d belly was pressed against his hip, her bare leg touching his thigh. Was she still so out of it from the drug that she had no inhibitions? Or did she really want him, like he was dying to have her?
He let out his breath in a heavy sigh. His job was to guard her body, not ravish it. After what she’d been through last night and five months ago, she needed to feel secure and protected. So why the hell did he have to keep reminding himself of that?
Maybe because her silky smooth leg had slid up his thigh even further and was pressing lightly against his arousal. That’s why.
“Carol?” he whispered.
She didn’t respond. He figured she was asleep and wasn’t even aware she was putting him through all this torture. He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep for what was left of the early morning hours. Like that was going to happen while he kept his arm wrapped around the half-naked siren and she clung intimately to him.
The issues of her psychic business were quickly taking a backseat to his desire to have her—as a wolf would have his mate.
But then, Carol’s fingers teased his chest more than once, and he was sure she was waking up or already fully awake.
“Carol?” he whispered again.
“Hmm,” she finally said, and cuddled closer. “Do you ever wish you were human?” she asked softly, almost as if she was afraid to propose the question.
Ryan raised her face and gave her a dark smile. “I am human. What’s on your mind?”
She looked at him with those beautiful blue eyes, questioning, enticing. “I just wondered if you ever wanted to have sex with a werewolf but couldn’t because then you’d be mated for life.”
“If I wanted to have sex with her, I’d want her for life.”
Carol’s fingers swept across his heated skin again in a tantalizing caress, and now that she was awake and fully aware that he was with her nearly na**d and not in the least bit bothered by their close proximity and intimacy—
“Well if you were human—all the way—you could have a werewolf lover with no consequences,” she continued, her words still spoken in a hush, as if she didn’t want the world to know she was awake or that she was speaking to Ryan or even what she was speaking about.
“True.”
She rested against him in silence for some time, as he stroked her soft hair, his body hardening, his desire for her growing, despite his efforts to keep his burgeoning craving to have her in check. She wasn’t making it easy. Considering her quickening heartbeat and the subtle changes in the sweet scent of her, the hint of arousal—and even the way she touched him and stroked him softly, playing with him—she had to be feeling something for him also.
“I wonder how Sam and Silva do it,” she said under her breath.
“Pardon?” He could guess where this was going, and he was instantly interested, as long as she knew what she was getting into and was just as willing.
“Nothing.”
“Do what, Carol? You brought it up,” he pressed, hoping he wouldn’t scare her off with his enthusiasm.
She cleared her throat and whispered, “As hot and heavy as the petting is getting between them even in public, I wonder how they can hold back.”
“Maybe they aren’t.”
“You mean that they’ve already done it? Consummated the relationship? Are secretly mated?”
His fingers paused on her hair. “They’d let everyone know if they’d mated. No, I’d say they haven’t quite gotten there yet.”
“Oh.” She had to have gotten the picture.
“It’s perfectly acceptable.” He wanted to push her onto her back to demonstrate just how far werewolves could go with one another before being committed as mates, but he was still afraid she wasn’t ready. “We aren’t talking about Sam and Silva here, are we?”