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Thankfully, the wolf was too busy starting the engine and plunking on his own helmet over his dreadlocks to notice her heart hammering. This close, she could feel every movement of his body. Beneath the soft leather of his jacket was a wall of solid muscle, flexing as he shifted on the bike.
And all she could think? Wow.
What an entirely unsatisfactory word. Something about being next to him, clinging to his body, felt oddly right, like coming home.
And then he ruined it. “Unfortunately, no subwoofers on this puppy.”
Though he couldn’t see the eye roll beneath her helmet, Cortana was certain he knew her unspoken response. Backing off the kickstand, Riaz gunned the engine, the explosive sound reverberating against the concrete of the garage and rumbling through her chest.
The bike jumped forward, and Cortana’s arms reflexively tightened around him. She knew werewolves ran warmer than the other species, but nothing prepared her for the intoxicating feel of the heat emanating from the sculpted contours of his body. Immortality aside, there was no denying the fact that the werewolf was a veritable Hercules, minus the curly red hair.
Mountain air whipped past them as they sped into the bleakness of night. Hairpin turns with no shoulders were taken at speed, something Cortana would’ve deemed recklessly stupid if the wolf hadn’t already proven his mastery of the vehicle.
Her heart thudded behind her breastbone, adrenaline pounding through her veins as Riaz’s laughter caught on the wind. A smile tugged at her lips, the wildness of the night infecting her. For the first time in years, Cortana felt hopelessness and apathy ebb, a thrill of excitement jolting through her.
She’d go so far as saying she was having fun.
All too soon, Riaz killed the headlight, then the engine. He slowly eased the bike to a crawl, his jean-clad legs extending to brace it when they stopped. With a jerk of his chin, he motioned for her to dismount. As she followed his instruction, late night air cooled the warmth that’d developed between them, whisking away any traces of his scent.
She waited as he walked the bike down a shallow ravine, hiding the vehicle amid the heavy brush. She couldn’t help watching him as he stretched his shoulders, shook out his hair, and propped his helmet against one handlebar.
“You just gonna stand there and gawk, Pet?” Riaz gave her a lopsided smile, full of male arrogance. “Or did you wanna take a picture for your scrapbook?”
A sassy hiss was out of her mouth before she even knew she’d bared her fangs. It was a reminder that he wasn’t dealing with some dewy-eyed pup, lovesick and gushing over his blazing eyes and bulging biceps. It has the opposite effect on Riaz: his grin turned blinding.
So, she threw the helmet at his head.
One hand easily caught the projectile, rolling it down his arm and down onto the handlebar in a move that looked choreographed. She shot him a glare in response, knowing that any trace of her amusement would only succeed in fanning his flame.
She followed Riaz’s lead as he began to stride through the wooded acreage toward the muted glow of light in the distance. Cicadas sung an early evening chorus around them as prey animals foraged in the undergrowth, the rustling of leaves and twigs the only indication they weren’t alone.
Ahead of her, Riaz strode with wolflike grace, moving noiselessly between trees and boulders with an inborn ability to spot the best path forward.
How much of it, she wondered, was instinctive versus learned? If she looked at his eyes right now, would she see the man or his wolf?
Itching for an answer, Cortana nearly spoke into the silence between them, only to be warned off it when Riaz lifted a hand to signal a stop.
Everything about him stilled, the man becoming akin to the boulders he stood amidst, and Cortana adopted the same posture. Her supernatural hearing caught the sounds of a two-way radio, the shuffling step of a night watchman patrolling the fence, and what sounded like the static whirring of machinery inside a building.
Slowly, Riaz turned his head and caught her attention. A predator gazed at her, refractory lens catching the light.
Wolf.
Chapter Eight
Undeniable, the urge to close the distance between them was a nagging ache beneath his skin. For a man driven by instinct, it was hard to strangle the impulses he felt with Cortana. Riaz struggled with the reality of the woman before him versus the woman his wolf wanted to believe she was.
Because his wolf claimed this woman was pack, and his instincts were never wrong—the creature was innately keyed into werewolves under his care and their wellbeing. They were family.
Cortana was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, a key figure in the community and lieutenant to one of the most powerful vampires in modern history. He wouldn’t admit it, but he’d done his research on her while she slept—both on the vexing laptop and by asking the other immortals who were familiar with her. At four hundred years old, she’d lived through countless wars and trials, overcoming each obstacle and emerging stronger on the other side.
She clearly didn’t need any help from him, but damn if his wolf didn’t bemoan that. The creature pushed at his skin, his claws tingling on the tips of his fingers, salivating for the shift. Riaz had work to do and no time for it.
“We missed the shift change, but we can still scope out the fence line.”
He knew Cortana would hear him, even if his voice was barely audible. While werewolves had the edge, vampires had similarly keen senses. He pointed toward the main building.
“The largest is where they manufacture colloidal silver, but we’ve yet to get blueprints. The brick building over there is for liquid sunlight, and from the way it’s built, our pack architect was able to draw a few ideas together about internal structure.”
