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"She's had enough to deal with," Nick agreed. "You did the right thing giving her some time."
"Thanks."
"But don't take too long to tell her the rest. It's a delicate balance between giving her time to adjust and coming across as though you were hiding the truth."
"Yeah, I know." Hanging his head, he studied his shoes. He was so damned tired, his body still healing, and yet he hadn't been able to rest for worrying about her.
"You're about to fall over. Go crash for a while, or you're not going to be any good to the team or your mate."
"I think I'll do that."
He'd try, anyway. Back in his quarters, he tossed on the bed and fantasized about a striking, raven-haired woman who might not want a thing to do with him. He thought only of kissing those plump lips, caressing toned, soft, honey brown skin. His lids grew heavy and yearnings followed him into his dreams where she tormented him endlessly, leading him to the edge, so in danger of falling. Only to pull back and leave him hurt, confused.
God, her lips were soft. His tongue slipped inside and he explored her mouth, groaning at her sweet taste. His fingers dipped into the swell between her breasts and stroked the creamy mounds. Sought lower, skimming down her flat stomach . . . until she caught his hand.
"Ryon."
"Baby, please. I need you."
"I can't." She shook her head.
"Why not?" Pulling back, he studied her expression. He saw fear, confusion. Not the ideal emotions to inspire in his mate.
"This is too soon," she said softly. "I don't know how I feel about this. About whether there's an us."
His wolf howled inside and a bubble of panic lodged in his throat. "Of course there is. Don't you feel something growing between us?" he asked hoarsely. "I already care about you, Daria."
She shook her head. "I cared about someone else not too long ago, and he broke my heart. I thought what he and I had was real, but it wasn't. How can I trust again?"
"Let me show you." He was begging shamelessly, and he couldn't help himself. "Let me prove how good it can be with the right man."
"I don't think I can. I'm sorry." She gave him the saddest smile.
Then turned and walked away.
"Daria, no! Don't leave me!"
Ryon bolted upright in bed, heart hammering in his chest. Not a vision-that wasn't his gift. Just a dream turned nightmare, he realized. A horrible, stupid nightmare with no basis in reality. God, he wanted her so much.
As proof, his unsatisfied cock was hard and aching, pointing at the ceiling. He needed relief or he was going to die of blue balls. Unzipping his jeans, he pushed them down far enough to free his tackle, and cupped a hand, squeezing the tight orbs. It felt so good he did it again, manipulating the sac and teasing the perineum. One finger trailed down to his hole, giving it a naughty rimming and stimulating his arousal to near pain.
Taking himself in hand, he gripped the hot, hard flesh and began to stroke. Up and down, hissing in pleasure at the little shocks of sensation that skittered from his nerve endings to heat his groin. The feeling was awesome, but it was nothing compared to what happened when he imagined Daria crouched between his thighs, jet-black hair spilling over his lap as she sucked him down her throat.
"Oh, shit."
That tripped his trigger, and his hips bucked as he worked his rod with abandon and just let himself go. In seconds that familiar buzz started at the base of his spine, signaling orgasm. His release exploded like a shot from a gun, creamy white ropes of cum squirting to land on his stomach and chest. On and on he spurted until his balls had emptied and he was jerking with aftershocks, wishing it hadn't ended so fast.
"Damn," he rasped. "Time for a shower."
Now that the high had ended, he felt empty. Sort of lost. With a sigh, he rose and padded to the bathroom, turning on the water to let it get hot. As he stepped into the steamy spray, he groaned and tried to shut the nightmare out of his mind.
But now that it was stuck in his brain, he couldn't dislodge it.
Getting to know Daria, much less winning her over, might be his biggest challenge yet.
. . .
On the second day of her stay, Daria awoke feeling much better. So much, in fact, she was suspicious of exactly why she wasn't hurting beyond a twinge or two. And why in the hell the scratches on her body weren't more than pink, healing lines that looked a few weeks old instead of two days.
She stared at one of the marks on her left arm in growing dread. What kind of medicine speeded healing like that? Nothing she'd ever heard of.
It was then that she noticed two faint puncture marks inside her wrist.
Again, the memory of voices, the men shouting as they worked to save her life, flooded in. This time came the recollection of a slight, pinching pain on her wrist. Had she imagined that? If so, why were there marks on her skin?
Restless, she glanced at the chair beside the bed, wondering where Ryon had gone. Her new protector had been by her side off and on since his team had brought her in, and at first she was relieved whenever he would duck out. Then the stretches of time he was gone seemed interminably long, when she was awake to realize it. Now, she had to admit to herself that she missed him.
They had talked a little, though he avoided the subject of the Pack's specific missions and the paranormal world they fought in. Instead, he made small talk about Wyoming, his friends in particular, their strengths and idiosyncrasies. They were an odd group, but close as brothers, and his love for them shone with every word. As if her thoughts had conjured him, Ryon stepped through the door carrying a plastic grocery sack and approached with a tentative smile on his sexy face. "How are you feeling?"
Her heart lightened just to see him, though she kept her enthusiasm in check. "Almost human again."
He looked away, his expression sheepish, and she wondered what on earth was wrong with him. But then the odd moment passed and he brightened again.
"Well enough to get out of here and have a bite to eat in the cafeteria with me? The food there is awesome."
"They're springing me so soon?" she asked in surprise.
"If you promise to take it easy for the next few days. Nick took the liberty of having one of the guests' quarters made ready for you, if you'll do us the honor of staying while you recuperate."
"That's nice of him." It was. She also found it faintly disturbing, being taken in just like that by a compound of men she didn't know and who didn't know her, but she knew her nerves were on edge. Anyone's would be after what she'd been through.
"Great," he said, taking her words as acceptance. He looked vastly relieved, more than he should at the news that a stranger was staying. "I put your clothes and camping gear in your room already. I hope you don't mind."
"Of course not. Thank you." She gestured to the sack. "What's in there?"
"Oh, these are some of your clothes. Didn't think you'd want to leave here with your butt hanging out of that gown. Not that I'd mind."
His statement and the impertinent grin made her laugh. "You must be a handful."
"I can be. Want to find out?"
He was so cute, she couldn't possibly take offense. "Not before you feed me. I was promised a meal, right?"
"You bet." Handing her the sack, he backed away. "I'll get a wheelchair while you get dressed."
"A wheelchair? I don't think I'll need one of those."
"Trust me, you do. After what you went through it's a miracle you're breathing."
"And why am I breathing?" she asked pointedly, gesturing to the pink scars on her arm. "Why am I practically healed?"
"All in good time. Baby steps, huh?"
Frustrated, she watched him walk out and shut the door behind him. Clearly, he was reluctant to get into many more details with her, but given the way she'd reacted to his delusion of being a wolf shifter, she wasn't really surprised.
But was it a fantasy on his part? She should be dead, not getting ready to leave, even in a wheelchair. Her bizarre recovery aside, she'd soon get the straight story on Ryon. She was sure his teammates would clue her in that he was suffering from some sort of mental illness and they humored him. That was the only explanation, and it made her sad.
Getting dressed took her longer than she had imagined, and she was just slipping on the borrowed tennis shoes Ryon had brought when he walked through the door pushing the wheelchair. But he wasn't alone.
"Daria, I'd like you to meet my commander, Nick Westfall."
Ryon's boss was an imposing man with short, feathery dark hair with the slightest bit of silver at the temples, and steely blue eyes. He carried himself with his back straight, his projected demeanor warning don't mess with me even though he had yet to open his mouth. When he did speak, however, his tone was kind.
"Miss Bradford."
"Daria, please."
He nodded. "I'm Nick. I try to keep my team in line, and sometimes I actually succeed. We're glad to have you here, even though it's not under the best of circumstances."
"Thank you. I appreciate your taking me in like this. I could go to a hotel if it would be less trouble-"
"Not at all. It's our pleasure, and we wouldn't hear of turning out a fellow nature lover after what you've been through." His lips turned up a bit. "You might want to hide out here anyway, at least until the media frenzy dies down."
She stared at him. "I don't think I like the sound of that."
"We have some reporters lurking outside the first gate, and they've asked to talk to the biologist who found the body in the woods. If you want to speak with them, I'll set up a place for you to meet."
Shuddering, she rubbed her arms. "And if I don't?"
"I'll make them go away."
Simple as that. She had no doubt he would follow through, and with pleasure. "I don't want to relive what I found for the media. Let the authorities talk to them."
The commander's expression reflected approval. "I think that's a wise decision. You will have to talk to Sheriff Deveraux, though. Ryon told him your story, but he wants a statement from you directly."
"I guess that's to be expected, but I don't want to talk to anyone else."
"Then you won't. Now, I'll leave you in Ryon's capable hands." He winked, turned and left.
"Nick is an interesting man," she said to Ryon.
"He's the best superior I've ever had." His voice told her of his real affection for the man. "He'd do anything for any of us."
"He strikes me as that kind of boss and friend."
"Yeah." He paused. "Are you hungry?"
"Starving." Her stomach rumbled again.
He helped her into the chair, holding on carefully when she swayed. Perhaps she did need the thing after all, since she wasn't nearly as steady on her feet as she'd thought she would be. He didn't say I told you so, just got her situated and rolled her out by an adorable blond male nurse who waved at them as they went past.
"That's Noah," Ryon told her. "He's a fixture around here."
"Yes, I met him. He came in to check on me from time to time. Very sweet guy. Does he live at the compound, too?"
"All the staff does."
That was so weird to her. "Why?"
"My team is required to live on base. We get dispatched at a moment's notice so it would waste valuable time if we had to wait on everyone to get here from town. Living on-site, we can train, plan maneuvers, discuss ongoing cases, and generally be ready for whatever comes our way. We get time off, though. We relax when we aren't busy."
