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Her father would be angry if she didn’t get up soon. After all, the papers wouldn’t deliver themselves. Then there were her chores to contend with. Wallowing in bed wouldn’t make those looming problems disappear, either.
Hurry up,Loren told herself. With a sigh, she rolled over and attempted to peel her eyes open.You can still make it if you hurry.
Once she finally caught sight of her surroundings, delivering papers was the last thing on her mind. She wasn’t in her room. This wasn’t even her house.
The walls weren’t covered in peeling gray paint. Instead, dark wooden paneling encircled a room large enough to contain both her father’s living roomandkitchen.
The blue curtains shielding the window weren’t stained. In fact, the window itself was massive, stretching almost the entire length of the wall, beyond the foot of the bed. A large,spaciousbed, covered in a blue comforter, and a gray blanket draped over Loren specifically.
Because her nightgown was gone. So were her bra and underwear. She didn’t even have on socks.
The foreign room, the bed, the nakedness—Loren figured they should have affected her, but the only coherent thought to flood her mind was the same word in a soothing mantra.
Safe.This place was safe. This room was safe. This house was safe. Thefeeling seemed ingrained in the very foundation, more obvious than if someone had erected a sign proclaiming,“Nothing can hurt you here.”
When she tentatively placed her feet on the floor, she wasn’t afraid. But something was off. The pain was stillthere—her entire body ached—but it was as if it were held at bay by an invisible wall.
She could sense it lurking just beyond that boundary, but it couldn’t touch her. Nothing could. Just peace. It permeated the air like perfume, smothering any trace of fear before it could rise. And boy, she should have been afraid the moment she stood—wrapped within the blanket—and crept into a hallway that seemed waytoofamiliar.
The stairs led directly into an open kitchen overlooking a modest living room. She could see a white barn from here, visible through a large bay window.
The smells of cooking food drew her notice, and she padded toward the kitchen, following the scent. Someone sat at the center island, watching her approach.
Despite the strange calm, Loren knew instantly that she didn’t recognize this woman. She was beautiful, whoever she was, with curling dark hair and large blue eyes set in a delicate face that instantly conjured images of a porcelain doll.
“Hello,” she said warmly, fingering the rim of a steaming cup of tea. “You must be Loren. I’m Sonia, and I think we really need to talk.”
10
He smelled her everywhere. Her scent permeated his bed, his house. Even the fields were impregnated with it.
She didn’t smell like most women did, or evenwantedto. Loren Connors reeked of a strange mixture of horse, fresh air, and the faintest hint of cleaning supplies, as if all those things had become a part of her. Ingrained.
After last night, he could addbloodto that list. Rage ripped through him, mingled with regret. He should have never let her go back there. Any idiot could see how terrified she was of Connors. Hell, she reeked of fear.
His only comfort was that he didn’t spend enough time around the bastard to truly know him. His job was to keep his distance, watch, and report. Before Loren’s arrival, he avoided that damn house unless necessary—though he still wound up being called out at least once a month while on duty. Fred Connors was the sort of man who didn’t need lycan instincts to cause trouble—his alcoholism and inclination toward violence were more than enough. Nothing about the man screamed suitable placement for a minor. Bill hadn’t even known about the man’s supposed daughter until the day she appeared.
Loren Connors had thrown a wrench into his life long before he chose to intervene. There was something about her, an intangible quality that people like Naomi Tanner and Fred Connors were drawn to. A part of him sensed it, too.Easy bait, her aura proclaimed. Weak, broken spirit, won’t bite back. She was the mortal personification of a mouse, always hoping that a hawk wasn’t watching.
Though, the proverbial hawk in this equation wasalwayswatching her.
He could recall the exact moment she first set foot on his land. He had been gathering firewood when her scent hit him with the strength of a punch to the chest. Struck dumb, he stood therecountingthe milieu of flavors composing that foreign, feminine aroma.
Animal musk, stream water,Mr. Clean.
It amazed him still that his first instinct hadn’t been to hunt down whoever dared to trespass onto his property. Had it been her damn father, he wouldn’t have hesitated, but her…
Instead, he waited, puzzled by how her presence melded into the environment like it belonged there. This washerland, that wild aroma told him. He was just living on it. Instant attraction had been only natural—or so he told himself. As much as it disgusted him to admit, he’d felt a pull then and there—the primal urge to claim a lone female wolf who dared to venture so close.
Until he saw her and realized his mistake. That frail waif of a girl was no lycan. She couldn’t be.
The second time she came, he intentionally left those horses out, curious how she would react to them. How they would react to her. From a distance she could never fathom, he observed her approach. When she saw them…
It wasbecauseof those animals that he believed she was human. They let her go near them. Touch them—a courtesy they never tolerated from him, despite the years he owned the property. It was instinct. To them, he reeked of a predator’s scent. The dark one had even tried kicking him once, but they never showed the same fear toward Loren Connors.
If she really were lupine, he couldn’t explain the exception—not logically, anyway. At least her visits gave the animals some social interaction. Sure, they let him put food in the stable and bring them out to pasture, but that was it.
Once, he considered hiring human stable hands, but humans were instinctively nosy, and he relished his privacy. Fortunately, Loren kept to the barn, never venturing any further than that.
