Lying in the semidarkness, she longed for the eye mask that was tucked in her bedside table drawer. But she dared not get it out. The wolf might think she had secret plans to ambush him in his sleep.
On the contrary, she didn’t plan to disturb him until dawn. But in the morning, he’d need to go out to relieve himself. Once he was outside, nothing would prevent him from leaving. But he was still too sick, even if he didn’t realize that.
She couldn’t imagine tying him up to a deck support, though. A rope would never hold him. She’d need a chain and a large eyebolt, and even then, what sort of collar, if she even had one, would keep a wolf his size from getting loose? He’d hurt himself all over again lunging against any restraint she used.
Yet somehow she had to keep him here at least another day. That would require a creative maneuver on her part. She thought of the large cut of round steak she’d bought at the general store today. Maybe the wolf could be bribed.
• • •
The water helped, but Jake was starving. Shifts always made him hungry, but he’d never had to engineer a midshift reversal before, and he’d discovered that revved up his appetite even more. To make matters worse, he’d achieved only some of the healing he’d been angling for.
He was far from healed, but he planned to blow this taco stand first thing in the morning. She’d have to let him out for obvious reasons, and once she did, he was gone.
The evening had been a fascinating experience, but he’d come way too close to accidentally revealing himself. He wasn’t about to take that chance again, which meant he had to get out of this cabin so he could heal properly. A plane ticket to San Francisco sat in a desk drawer in his cabin, and he would be on that plane, come hell or high water.
He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted by Rachel, even if he was currently stretched out on a quilt that smelled like her and made him want to stay. And he couldn’t let himself think about how she’d looked standing in the kitchen doorway wearing a nearly transparent tank top and running shorts, both in apple green.
And holding a baseball bat. His nose ached from that whack she’d given him. Unless he could shift soon, he was liable to end up with a bruise. But he could explain a bruise a lot easier than he could explain shaved fur.
He couldn’t blame Rachel for hitting him, either. She’d sensed something major was happening in her kitchen and she’d been right to react that way. If she’d had the tiniest inkling what those flickering lights actually meant, she would have hit him even harder.
He hated deceiving her, hated it worse than he’d expected to. She’d been so earnest and sweet about his injuries and his need for privacy. She’d jumped to all the wrong conclusions, but she was trying so hard to take care of him, even as he plotted his escape.
A woman like Rachel didn’t deserve to be jerked around like this, but he had no choice. That bothered him. It bothered him even more than the gnawing hunger that kept him awake until the sky grew lighter, signaling another Alaskan summer day.
Rachel woke early, sat up in bed, and immediately looked over at the corner where he lay. “Good morning, wolf. I hope you slept well.”
Not a wink. But he’d taken comfort in knowing that she had slept. He’d listened to her soft breathing and been content. The bears hadn’t come back, but he’d been ready to fight them off if necessary.
She looked adorable all tousled from sleep, her tank top slightly askew. He regretted that this would be the one and only time he’d see her waking up in her bed, because soon he’d be headed through the woods toward home.
Combing her hair back from her face, she swung her long legs out of bed and stood. “I’m sure you need a bathroom break.”
This was it. She’d open the back door, and he’d be out of her life. He’d never be this close to her again, and that was best . . . for him, for her, for the future security of Weres. If leaving her made him sad, he’d just have to let it go.
“When you come back in I’ll have a wonderful treat for you.”
Surely she didn’t expect him to waltz back into the cabin like a trained dog. He wondered what that imaginative brain of hers had come up with.
“I’ll go get it.”
Watching her walk around barefoot in that skimpy outfit was enough of a treat for him. It helped him forget the pain in his side and the empty feeling in his gut. Rising slowly to his feet, he followed her out of the bedroom.
She went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. His stomach clenched. Good thing she didn’t know how hungry he was. When she pulled out a package of meat, he resisted the urge to rip it from her hands. A real wolf would have.
“You can have this after you take care of business.” She pulled the cellophane off a heavenly-smelling slab of beef, opened a cupboard, and took down a platter.
One quick lunge and he’d have that meat. But then what? Could he imagine himself carrying it to some other part of the cabin and eating it off the floor? No, he could not. He was Were. He had his standards.
“Time to let you out the back door.” Opening a kitchen drawer, she took something out and tucked it in the waistband of her shorts.
She’d done it so quickly he hadn’t been able to see what it was. But it was too small to be of any consequence to him, so he forgot about it.
Then she hoisted the platter, walked through the living room, and unlocked the door to the deck. “I’ll leave the storm door and the screen open, and when you’re finished, you can come back and get your steak.”
Oh, she was clever, all right. She’d obviously figured out that he planned to run off the minute she opened that door. She was also smart enough to realize that tying him up was not a solution.
She’d hit upon the one thing he would find nearly impossible to resist. He couldn’t remember ever being this hungry with no immediate way to fix the problem. He longed for that meat.
Standing with one hand on the doorknob and one hand holding the platter at shoulder height like a waitress in a restaurant, she glanced down at him. He licked his chops, unable to help himself. The smell of that steak drove him crazy.
After she opened the door, he could knock her down, take the meat, and be off. But thinking such a thing filled him with shame. She’d been nothing but kind to him. If he shoved her to the floor, she could hit her head or twist an ankle, maybe even break a bone.
He, of course, wouldn’t be around to find out what had happened to her. By talking with Ted, he’d find out eventually what sort of damage he’d caused, but what if he knocked her unconscious and the bears came back?
The knob clicked softly as she turned it. “I know you don’t understand what I’m saying, but if only you did, I’d want you to think about the wisdom of resting here for another day. I’d want you to think about eating this steak and then lying on the quilt in my bedroom while you regain your strength. If you run away, you’ll have to fend for yourself, and you’re not well yet. It could be risky for you.”
She had a point. He’d have to make it around the lake and into his cabin before he could shift again. Shifting outdoors in broad daylight was asking for trouble. So he’d have to go home as he was, slowed by his injuries.
A black wolf moving through the woods during the day could be spotted, chased, possibly even shot by a rogue trophy hunter. When he was fit, he had a decent chance of escaping that fate, but he wasn’t at the top of his game. Then, if he even made it to his cabin, sneaking in undetected would be tricky.
And he was so hungry. He wouldn’t be able to eat until he got home, either. Lack of food was making him dizzy. That would also hamper him on the journey back.
Yet every moment he spent with her in this cabin was filled with danger, too. He was essentially trapped here, and all his Were instincts screamed that he couldn’t let that continue. He had to leave and take his chances getting home.
Maybe he could grab the meat before he left, though. He wouldn’t knock her down to get it, but two could play the game she had in mind. While she tried to coax him in, he’d try to lure her out.
“Okay, wolf. Make the right choice.” She opened the storm door and then the screen.
Freedom! He bolted out the door but stumbled on the steps and almost fell.
“Careful!”
Embarrassed, he straightened and kept going. He really was weak, damn it. He needed that steak to boost his energy level. After ducking around the corner of the cabin to find privacy for the task at hand, he returned to the steps.
Climbing them winded him, which was alarming. If he couldn’t navigate three steps without panting, what chance did he have of making it home safely? He’d always counted on stealth and speed, and he had neither.
The steak might revive him, though. He’d carry it into a secluded part of the woods, eat it, and then maybe rest a little. If he found a good enough hiding place, he’d wait until dusk to finish the trip.
Both the screen door and the storm door were still open, as promised. Rachel stood five or six feet back from the door, and she lowered the platter so he could see the meat. “Come and get your reward, wolf.”
He edged toward the door and stopped short of the threshold. Come toward me, Rachel. Tempt me with that steak.
As he’d hoped, she came closer. “You can smell it, can’t you? I see your nose twitching. Lucky I didn’t hurt your nose last night. I feel guilty about that.”
He had far more reasons to feel guilty about last night than she did. He put one paw into the room. As long as the door stayed open behind him, he could get away. She couldn’t close it from where she stood holding the platter.
Once he realized that, he grew bolder. He might not have his old speed for long, but he could manage it for a few seconds. Stepping cautiously toward the platter, he gathered himself. Grab the steak and run. That’s all he had to do. She couldn’t get to the door fast enough.
Seizing the meat in his jaws, he whirled at the same moment the screen door slammed shut. What the hell? The steak dangling from his jaws, he turned toward her in confusion. How did you do that?
“Sorry, wolf.” She held up a narrow spool of fishing line. A nearly invisible filament stretched from the cardboard spool in her hand to the handle on the screen door. “It’s for your own good.”
She’d outsmarted him. Damn it. Humiliating though that was, he couldn’t help admiring her ingenuity. Apparently he wouldn’t be escaping today.
As that truth settled over him, he waited for anger and frustration to heat his blood. Instead he felt a far more dangerous emotion. Relief.
It seemed that he wasn’t all that eager to leave after all.
Chapter 5
When Lionel drove up around ten that morning, Rachel heard his truck and closed her bedroom door before going out to meet him. She’d debated whether to tell him about the wolf at all, but she trusted him completely, and discussing the odd situation with someone else would help ease her mind.
Lionel climbed out of his old blue Dodge with a smile on his broad face, as always. He was built like a linebacker, which made him very handy to have around when she had to wrestle large pieces of wood into submission. She didn’t have a little brother, but she would have wanted him to be sweet and funny like Lionel.
He wore his dark hair down past his collar, and he shoved it away from his forehead as he walked toward her. She smiled at the unconscious gesture. When she’d hired him two years ago, he’d been less sure of his place in the world. Today he carried himself with the loose-hipped, casual stride of a nineteen-year-old who had decided he was someone of value after all.
Part of that confidence might come from the totem on a silk cord around his neck. She’d carved the small wolf for him last year, and it had become his badge of honor. It signaled to everyone in Polecat that she thought enough of him to give him a job and one of her carvings. She was grateful for the impulse that had prompted her to do both of those things.
“How’s it going, Miss M?” He’d come up with that nickname on his own. His grandmother was a Bette Midler fan and he’d grown up hearing about The Divine Miss M. Because he hadn’t felt right calling her Rachel, he’d decided on Miss M, and Rachel was honored to share a nickname with Bette Midler.
“I’m fine.”
“Just wondered, because you don’t usually come out to meet me. Is there a problem?”
“Sort of. Well, I hope not.” She’d discovered early in their relationship that Lionel picked up on her moods very quickly.
He had an artist’s soul, and she’d encouraged him to try carving as a way to express his creativity. So far she’d seen no evidence he was doing it, but he could be working in secret. That would be like him, to want to surprise her.
“So what’s going on?”
She took a deep breath. “I have a wolf in my bedroom.”
His face turned a dull red. “I don’t think you should be telling me that, Miss M. I know you’ve been going online looking for guys to date, but—”
“Not a guy-type wolf, Lionel. An actual wolf. A big black wolf.”
His embarrassment was replaced with alarm. “Wow. Did you kill it?”
“No! Would I do something like that?”
“I didn’t think so, but I can’t see how you’d get a real wolf into your bedroom unless he was dead, and I thought maybe you needed help getting rid of the evidence, which I would totally do for you, even if it meant we’d get in trouble.”
“I could still get in big trouble for not notifying Fish and Game that I have him. I took him in the house because he’s hurt.”
“Bad?”
“I think he’ll make it.”
Lionel exhaled noisily. “Good. That’s very good. But listen, you should call Fish and Game right now and make up some story about why you didn’t contact them earlier. I’ll back you up.”