Dark Wolf Rising

He was too tall, too rugged, and too damn good-looking, and he probably knew it. Add to that the obvious fact that he held some sort of position of authority in this area, and Chelsea knew he was the kind of guy she normally went out of her way to avoid. Of course, the last time she’d seen her sister, Perry had accused her of avoiding all men, making the snide assessment that she should either go lesbian or resign herself to being alone for the rest of her life. She’d told her sister to mind her own business, then changed the subject, but Perry’s words had stayed with her, proving difficult to forget.

As a modern, educated woman, Chelsea knew, deep down, that her cool attitude toward the opposite sex had been born from a soul-deep fear of ever becoming like her mother. Perry had dealt by immersing herself in the party scene, earning a reputation as the girl who would try anything at least once, whereas Chelsea had simply closed down, withdrawing, just like an oyster hiding within its shell. Despite her worldly views, she had little experience when it came to male animals, especially ones like the hunk standing so close to her bus…staring at her as if he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to strangle her or eat her alive. His warm, utterly male scent, a seductive blend of heat and spice and the outdoors, was actually causing drool to collect in the corners of her mouth.

Amazing.

The whole “mouthwatering” reaction never happened to her, unless she was confronted by the scent of fresh baked brownies or watching a Gerard Butler movie. Despite her skeptical attitude toward the male species, even Chelsea had found herself a victim of the Scotsman’s compelling sexuality.

But Butler had nothing on this guy. A quick flick of a glance over his body revealed a physique that was long and lean and powerfully muscled. The kind of body that would be hard and hot to the touch. That would ripple with muscle as he moved over a woman…as he moved inside her. Hard and deep and fast. Then hard and deep and…deliberately slow.

Giving herself a sturdy mental shake, Chelsea fought the urge to fan her face, and struggled to get her mind out from between the sheets and back on important things, like staying alive and finding her sister. But that was proving decidedly difficult to do, seeing as how she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off him. God, what was happening to her? Were her hormones revolting, demanding satisfaction after being bludgeoned into submission for so many years? And if so, the timing couldn’t be worse. Why now?

Unfortunately, she had a feeling the answer to that question was staring her right in the face.

Okay, so he wasn’t her type, but he was certainly a pretty piece of eye candy, if one went for the rugged, alpha breed of male, complete with bulging muscles, tattoos and faded scars. Which she didn’t, she reminded herself, while her body reached supernova levels of heat in an embarrassing, shocking, completely unforgivable act of betrayal.

His hard, sleekly muscled physique attested to what had to be an athletic lifestyle. Even his forearms were marked by ropey muscles and lean lines of sinew, his dark body hair lying flat against the deep, sun-darkened color of his skin. Without doubt, he was the most masculine thing Chelsea had ever set eyes on. He belonged here in the wild, rugged terrain of the forest, as if he were a part of it, completely at home within its primitive landscape.

As she watched him, he flexed his big hands at his sides, like he was working out a cramp, his arms rigid, powerful biceps stretching the seams of his black T-shirt. A fierce wave of tension emanated from him, blasting against her face like a hot wind.

And yet, despite the predatory intensity that surrounded him, all but oozing from his pores, she didn’t fear him. Was the gun in her lap giving her a false sense of safety? Somehow, she didn’t think so. Chelsea knew how she should be feeling, but there was something in his expression—something dark and uncomfortable—that said he was as wary of her as she was of him, and it bolstered her battered sense of security.

“Well?” she snapped, relieved by the waspish sound of her voice, having been half afraid she might actually purr at him when she finally located her ability to speak.

“Well what?” His voice was hard, deliciously deep and roughened around the edges.

She fought the temptation to roll her eyes, thinking they certainly grew them breathtakingly big around here, not to mention gorgeous, but obviously not too bright. “What. Do. You. Want?” she asked slowly, enunciating each word with patronizing precision.

He blinked, and then the corner of his mouth suddenly twitched, and a smooth spill of surprise warmed her insides at the fact that he’d reacted to her sarcastic tone with humor, rather than anger. Not that she wanted him angry, mind you.

No, all she wanted was for him to leave her alone, so that she could get some sleep, and then get on with her search…while doing her best to forget this fluttery feeling he’d put in her belly. It felt good, damn it—dangerously good—and that made her more nervous than his primal intensity ever could. Sexual desire was a dangerous trap that couldn’t be trusted any more than the male species could be. She had to find some way to ignore it, no matter how good the rush in her pulse felt, as if she were stretching to awareness after a long, heavy slumber.

Part of her wanted to shout So this is what it’s all about!—while the other part snarled For the love of God, what kind of idiot starts thinking about having sex with a total, behemoth-size stranger?

Apparently her kind, she realized, since she couldn’t get the thought out of her head of what it’d be like to be covered by this sexy-as-hell hunk.

Thunder suddenly rumbled in the distance, signaling an approaching storm, bringing with it the crisp scent of rain. Chelsea glanced toward the swollen sky, and then softly, in a tone completely unlike her, she heard herself say, “It looks like a storm’s coming. You wanted to talk, so talk, before it starts to rain.”

He looked up, staring at the sky…at the moon, and when he lowered his head, once again trapping her in the piercing intensity of his stare, the look in his eyes burned even brighter, as though that silver gaze was somehow glowing, fired with heat from within. Glowing eyes? She blinked, shaking her head, knowing she needed more sleep. God, she’d been pushing herself so hard, she was getting delusional.

After what seemed like forever, he finally asked, “What are you doing here?”

The gravelly sound of his voice raised chill bumps on her arms, and she resisted the urge to reach out and smooth the deep furrows between his brows, then the harsh lines of frustration bracketing his sensual mouth. Instead, she reached up to the visor and took down Perry’s picture, holding it up for him to see. “I’m looking for this girl. She’s my sister. Have you seen her?”

He glanced at the photo that had been taken on Perry’s last birthday. “No. Never set eyes on her before. She isn’t here.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until I’ve found her.”

He drew in a slow, deep breath, taking a step closer to the bus, bringing the details of his ruggedly gorgeous face into a sharper focus. The ink-black hair, cut severely short, emphasizing that spectacular bone structure. The dark, mesmerizing glitter of those heavy-lidded eyes. The strong line of his nose, as well as the shadowed hollows of his cheeks. Each detail was almost painfully beautiful, and yet, perfectly masculine.

The air seemed to crackle between them, as if something was building…growing stronger, layer upon layer upon layer, each one gaining in intensity. Something powerful and electric that you couldn’t see—that you could only feel…sense. His breathing grew deeper, his chest rising and falling as if he were exerting some kind of physical effort, when he only stood there…staring…watching.

The way he suddenly shoved his hands back in the pockets of his jeans caught her attention, and she could have sworn he was struggling for some kind of control over himself as he asked, “What makes you think your sister is here, on our mountain?”

Instead of answering his question, Chelsea returned the photo to the visor and posed one of her own. “Our mountain? What, you own it?”

He shrugged those impossibly broad shoulders, and her eyes snagged on the intricate design of the tattoo swirling over his right biceps, just visible beneath the tight stretch of his sleeve. It made her heart beat even faster.

“In a way, yes. This is private property.”

A sick feeling swept through her stomach. “Your boy soldiers over there claimed the same thing, but I don’t see how you can own an entire mountain. And I was on a public highway,” she argued.

“Which you then turned off of,” he explained, his voice a low, mesmerizing rumble, “and onto a private road.” He arched one dark brow as he added, “I assume you missed the clearly marked signs when you exited the main highway a few miles back?”

“Must have,” she said tightly, wondering what the hell she was going to do. “So what now? Are you going to waste your night trying to kick me out of here, or go back to wherever you came from and leave me alone?”

“I’m not going to try anything,” he murmured, while something that almost looked like regret flickered through those beautiful gray eyes. “I am kicking you out of here.”

With a tired sigh, Chelsea shook her head again. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but you aren’t leaving me much choice. In fact, you’re acting like a complete and total ass.”

Then she lifted the pistol from her lap…and pointed the barrel right at him.

Chapter 2

Though there wasn’t anything particularly funny about having a gun pointed straight at your heart, Eric had to fight the surprising urge to laugh at the human’s audacity. A bullet wouldn’t kill him, but it would still hurt like a bitch. He should have been furious that she was threatening him, but that wasn’t the source of his anger. Instead, he was uncomfortably aware that the more she stood up to him, the harder it was for him not to pull her out of that goofy-looking bus and show her just how much danger she was courting here.

Running his tongue over the edge of his teeth, he said, “I’m thinking you probably hear this a lot, but you’re too gutsy for your own good, lady.”

She smirked, but didn’t bother to lower the weapon. “Maybe I’ll be more understanding if you just tell me what the big secret is. Why all the urgency for me to leave? Afraid I’ll stumble across something I shouldn’t? Are you guys part of some religious cult?” Her brows lifted with curiosity. “Do you like to run around naked and worship the moon?”

“Something like that,” he offered drily, still struggling against the driving urge to drag her out of the bus and take her to the ground, where he could press her into the soft, damp grass. Without doubt, she was a shock to the system. Instead of sharp angles to match that sharp tongue, the woman possessed a glowing, fresh-faced softness that made her look entirely adorable—and he had to fight back another grin as he imagined what her reaction would be if he expressed that opinion out loud.

Hell, knowing her, she’d probably shoot him the finger again. Either that, or just plain shoot him.

As if reading his mind, she said, “I’ll put a bullet in you if I have to, though I’d rather not. Can’t stand the sight of blood.” She slowly lowered the weapon back to her lap, but kept her finger close to the trigger. “So don’t tempt me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” His tone was even drier than before. “But you still need to get lost.”

“You know, even if you succeed in making me leave—” her breasts swayed with a delicious jiggle beneath the tight green T-shirt as she shifted in her seat to face him “—I’ll only come back.”

She drew in a shaky little breath after making that rather forceful announcement, and for the first time since this bizarre confrontation got started, Eric managed to see past his frustration and lust, down to the exhaustion and worry haunting her gaze. And he didn’t like it. What the hell had this woman gotten herself into? And why the fuck was he getting uptight about it? He damn well knew better!

“Do you have any idea how unsafe it is, what you’re doing, coming to the mountains by yourself?”

She gave a negligent roll of her shoulders, then lifted her free hand to push that thick fall of hair behind her ear. “I came armed. I’m not stupid.”

He flicked a dismissive glance at the gun in her lap, and a rude sound rumbled in the back of his throat. “It’s a nice weapon, but isn’t going to do you much good up here.”

She arched one slim brown brow again. “And why is that?”

“Just trust me on it,” he muttered, wondering if lightning was going to come down and fry him on the spot for the things he was thinking about doing to her. It was one thing for the Runners to take human lovers, seeing as how they were half human themselves—but Eric was in an entirely different situation.

“You can’t stay out here in your car,” he growled, the sudden pronouncement making her jump. “It isn’t safe.”

Carefully recovering her composure, she jerked her chin toward Hendricks and Franks. “Why? I won’t go snooping where I don’t belong. And no one was bothering me before those two showed up.”

The headstrong woman had no idea how lucky that made her, and Eric wanted to keep it that way. “Save your breath and stop arguing, sweetheart. I’m not trying to jerk you around. You really can’t stay here.”

“First of all, I’m not your sweetheart,” she snapped, obviously irritated by his choice of words. “And secondly, if you won’t let me stay in my car, isn’t there someplace in your town where I can get an…inexpensive room for the night?”

It was the hesitant way she’d said inexpensive that finally clued him in, making him wonder if she was sleeping in her car not because she was careless with her safety, but because she simply couldn’t afford to sleep anywhere else. “I’m afraid not,” he rasped, while something painful twisted in his chest. She was clearly in need of rescuing, and it bothered him that he couldn’t be the one to do it. That he was more harm to her than help.

“Hmm,” she murmured, and he could see the wheels spinning again in her head.

“Trust me,” he said gruffly, “the best thing for you to do is to stay down in Wesley. It’s only about an hour from here.”

“Yeah, I know where it is.” She looked away for a moment, chewing on that lush bottom lip, her gaze even more troubled than before when she finally brought it back to his. “You really think I can just go? That I can just give up and leave my sister to the wolves?”

Suspicion narrowed his eyes. “What the hell does that mean?” he demanded, watching her closely. Did she know what he was? What they all were?

“It’s just an expression.” Her voice was sharp, a slight frown settling between her brows. “I know she’s in trouble, and I refuse to let it go and just sit at home wringing my hands, hoping a miracle will happen and some big burly man will step in to rescue her.”

She her cut her gaze away again, but not before he caught the luminous wash of tears glistening in her eyes. Aw, hell. Knowing he wouldn’t be able to take it if she broke down—that he’d rather have her angry than sad—Eric curled his lips and said something guaranteed to piss her off and get her back up. “Some big burly man, huh? I get it now. You’re one of those women who has guy issues, aren’t you?”

She snorted, shooting him a withering look from the corner of her eye. “Not any more than you have women issues.”

“The hell I do,” he drawled, aware that he was taking some kind of perverse pleasure in verbally sparring with her. “I happen to like women just fine.”

Her head tilted slightly to the side as she studied him. “I’m sure you like them when they’re on their backs. Other than that, I doubt you have much use for them.”

Eric gave her a slow, cocky smile and clucked his tongue. “Like I said…issues.”

She opened her mouth, no doubt to make some cutting remark, but then quickly pressed her lips together, choking off whatever she’d been about to say. Judging from the color creeping into her face, he figured she’d probably just realized she was revealing more about herself with this particular interchange than she wanted to, while accusing him of being…what? A guy?

Yeah, he liked sex. What man didn’t? Lately, Eric just didn’t like how he felt after he’d finished it—as if there was something better that he couldn’t reach. Something he wanted, but couldn’t get his hands on. Which was exactly how he’d felt an hour ago, muttering a low apology under his breath as he’d rolled off Crissy Cowell’s soft, warm body, extricating himself from her grasping arms as he’d turned his back to her and retrieved his cell phone to take Hendricks’s call.

He’d felt bad about turning away from Crissy to answer the phone, but there was no denying that he’d been thankful for the excuse to remove himself from the Lycan’s clingy post-coital embrace. Never one to cuddle, it wasn’t the first time Eric had felt a piercing sense of relief at freeing himself from a woman’s hold once their passion was spent—though it seemed that recently, no matter how physical the encounter, his body was left burning with a restless hunger for something more.

Not that there was anything wrong with Crissy, a well-respected pack female who owned the local garden center in Shadow Peak. She was nice, pleasurable and more than easy on the eyes. No, the problem was his and his alone.

A shrink would probably tell him he was psychologically punishing himself—perhaps even seeking some kind of screwed-up atonement for the destruction his father had caused, but Eric knew it was more than that. Still, guilt poured through his veins as steadily as his blood these days, until it felt as much a part of him as an organ or a limb—just a constant, sickening acceptance that his life would forever be tainted by his association with Stefan Drake: father, pack Elder…and psychotic son of a bitch.

The weight of the shame he carried in his gut over the horrifying events that unfolded five months ago had yet to lessen with the passage of time, and the Runners often told him he was working himself into the ground to pay for crimes that weren’t his. But while there were some in the pack who had seemed to accept his innocence, Eric was aware of the accusatory sneers still sent his way…and he knew there were more than a few who blamed him all the same. For some, the sins of the father were often the hardest to forget…or forgive.

And yet, he was certain that this incessant hunger, this craving gnawing away at him from the inside out, had more to do with his future than it did with the past. Always one with a healthy sex drive, Eric had never before questioned his lack of interest in making a commitment to one of the women in his life. After being abandoned by his mother at an early age, he didn’t need to be psychoanalyzed to understand the wounds that had been cut into his emotional fabric—but his commitment issues had never interfered with his enjoyment of the opposite sex. Even now, the problem wasn’t that sex didn’t feel good. Sex was sex, and it sure as hell didn’t feel bad.

It just didn’t feel…right, whatever the hell that meant.

And I sound like I’m losing my bloody mi—

“You know,” the human murmured, interrupting his irritating train of thought…apparently unable to hold back what she’d wanted to say before. “I realize this may come as a surprise to you, but just because you’re a guy who looks like God’s gift to women doesn’t actually mean that you are.”

The second the words left Chelsea’s mouth, a low, rich vein of laughter jerked from his chest, seeming to catch them both by surprise. Her toes curled inside her socks at the delicious sound, while her face burned with color as she realized what she’d just said.

Wow. I’m so smooth. Why don’t I just shout it to his face that I think he’s hot?

“Come on,” he drawled after his laughter had died down, his mouth kicking up at one corner in the wickedest grin she’d ever seen. “You’re judging me by my looks, and that isn’t fair.”

Maybe not, but Chelsea still wanted to curse at him for flashing her such an irresistible grin, the dimple in his cheek enough to make her groan. Not to mention the high-voltage sexual energy he was blasting at her, making her head spin. Given her lack of a social life, Chelsea knew her family and friends probably thought she was still a virgin, but they were wrong. She’d had sex. Not a lot, mind you, but enough times to know what it was all about. But her experiences had all been with cerebral types who were easily controlled and easily forgotten. She’d never played with a rugged, testosterone-laden male before, and she doubted she’d even know how to if she tried.

Her looks, or lack of them, had always made it easy to avoid charming, oozing-sex-appeal-from-their-pores Neanderthals like this guy, for the simple fact that they ignored her. No, that wasn’t right. They simply didn’t see her, as if she were a ghost. Something they looked right through. Not even a blip on their radar.

But this guy…he noticed. He was staring right at her, that strangely compelling gaze making her feel as if he didn’t want to be looking anywhere else in the world. As if he saw her in a way that no other man ever had, and she resisted the urge to pull her shirt away from her skin, seeking relief from the blistering warmth sizzling inside her, despite the nighttime chill in the air.

And maybe she was just wasting both their time, keeping the argument going because she liked the look of him. Who said she couldn’t start her bus, head down the road a ways, wait for them to leave, then turn around and come right back to find some other nearby place to camp for the night? According to the bleary-eyed girl she’d talked to at the strip club down in Wesley, Perry had only worked at the club for a couple of days before heading up into these mountains to stay with her so-called boyfriend. There was obviously a hell of a lot more to the story, but considering this was her only lead, Chelsea had to go with it.

She’d tried asking some locals in Wesley for assistance, thinking they could point her in the right direction, but none had been able to help. They knew of some private settlements in the mountains, but couldn’t tell her where they were…or anything about the people who lived there. The whole situation was eerily unsettling, but she couldn’t turn back now. She had to keep searching every small town she stumbled across up here until she found Perry, whether these guys liked it or not.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t start with another part of the mountain and work her way back here—hopefully avoiding the gorgeous jackass watching her with those unusual eyes.

“Fine,” she said, blowing out a rough breath of air. “Have it your way.”

Surprise lifted his dark brows. “You’ll leave?”

She allowed her own mouth to curl in a cocky smirk. “Yeah, I’ll leave. But not before telling you how ridiculous you look with that red lipstick smeared all over the corner of your mouth. I hope she was a brunette. A blonde could never have pulled off that color.”

He quickly lifted his hand, wiped at his mouth, then glared at the red smear on his fingertips. “Son of a bitch,” he growled, scrubbing harder at his face. “Hendricks should have told me.”

“It’s all gone now,” she murmured, taking pity on him. “You’re clear.”

He grunted something foul under his breath, then stepped closer and placed one hand over the window ledge, curving his long fingers over the door frame, as if he could keep her in place with that simple touch. “Where will you go?”

“That’s none of your business,” she said quietly, staring at those dark fingers, imagining them on her body…against her skin. Shaking herself, she set the gun on the passenger’s seat, then turned the key in the ignition…but nothing happened. Just a sad, pathetic wail of sound from the engine, followed by a rapid clicking noise. Gritting her teeth, she turned the key again…and again, but with the same results.