«Okay.» He stood and put on his jacket. «I've got to interview a witness in one of my other cases. I'll see you tomorrow.»
Danny didn't reply. Taran walked out, leaving the novice staring at the information on Stephan Navratil.
On Thursday afternoon, in a feat typical of Houston's bipolar winters, the temperature plummeted from the mid seventies to the mid forties in three hours. Lark had expected to get home before the cold front blew in, but she lingered too long in the grocery store. When she stepped out around four-thirty in her flannel lounge pants and her long-sleeved thermal Astros shirt, the wind seemed to cut her in two. She squealed in chilly shock as she jogged with the cart to her car.
Back at Taran's she headed straight for the fireplace. When she had a nice crackling blaze going, she put away the groceries. Then she poured herself a stiff brandy and took it with her to the bathtub.
She'd seen little of Taran over the last three days. He went to work in the morning and came home late at night, undoubtedly avoiding her. In spite of what he'd said, he probably felt crowded.
She'd been checking in with him via text as ordered.
His protectiveness thrilled her, but she wouldn't lie to herself-he cared for her like a big brother, nothing like the way she cared for him. It made living under the same roof bittersweet. She needed to go home before her heartache worsened.
She lolled in the bathtub until after six. Then she towel dried her hair, put on clean lounge pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt and headed for the kitchen at the other end of the house. She stopped in the den to poke at the fire and sip from the brandy she still nursed. When she glanced over her shoulder, she started to shake.
A lamp on the loveseat end table glowed. She hadn't touched it. She turned to look at the sliding glass door that led to the backyard; closed and locked when she went to take a shower, it now stood partially open. She hadn't touched the light on the deck, either, yet it blazed in the darkness.
Anyone creeping around the backyard could see her perfectly, and she couldn't see them.
Her heart began to trip like a jackhammer at the sound of paws scrabbling on wood. Her throat tightened in fear. She forced herself to exhale, fighting blind panic.
An enormous brown shape materialized out of the darkness into the pool of light on the deck.
She recognized Taran at the last minute and clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the scream.
They stared at each other through the open door. He turned and ran back out of the light. She slowly sank into the couch in front of the fire, the glass of brandy still in her hand. She took a big swig and set it on the end table.
Oh shit, that was stupid, she thought as smooth fire flowed down her throat and burned in her chest. Tears poured from her eyes and she doubled over, choking and coughing. She started to laugh, which made her cough more, which made her eyes water more. She didn't hear Taran come in until he kneeled in front of her, murmuring into her hair.
«Lark? Lark! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were there. I didn't mean to scare you, baby…»
«No, it's okay, I'm laughing, I'm-wait. Huh? Did you just call me baby?»
Only in her dreams did he ever call her anything other than her name. One little word sent a new fire, this one slow like honey, coursing through her veins. She felt a hot flush in her chest and up the back of her neck.
She gasped as he cupped her head in his hands and tilted it back, brushing the hair away from her face. She ventured a peek at his eyes, surprised at the fear and worry in his expression. What on earth could scare him?
«Taran? Are you okay?»
«No,» he muttered hoarsely, his mouth hovering over hers. «Not really.»
Glimpsing a flash of lustrous green as he raised his eyes, she immediately dropped her gaze. She stared at the vein twitching in his jaw.
He'd thrown on jeans, but nothing else. She always took care not to stare at him overtly, lest he notice, but now her eyes feasted on the smooth golden expanse of his shoulders, the rippling biceps and wide chest inches away from her.
He rubbed his thumb across her cheek, skimmed it down her nose and dragged it slowly straight down over her bottom lip. She couldn't breathe. Though his huge hand traced her face as softly as a breath, her skin tingled everywhere his fingers wandered. The currents ran all the way down her spine, and she closed her eyes as a small sigh escaped her.
His body vibrated with leashed tension, belying the controlled precision of his movements.
Afraid to break whatever spell possessed him, she tried not to move, but she couldn't sit still beneath his touch. She turned her head to kiss his hand, and impulsively ran her tongue across his palm. He jerked, and when his mouth came down on hers, it wasn't gentle at all.
He wrapped one hand in her hair as his tongue plundered her mouth. With his other hand, he caressed the side of her neck, his thumb stroking hypnotically up and down over her throat, and she purred at the delicious tremors he ignited.
She parted her legs to pull him closer, smiling against his lips when he shuddered. None of her dreams compared to the reality of his hot, greedy mouth on hers, the rough sweetness of his tongue, the hard strength of his hands on her skin and in her hair. She half-expected to wake up any second.
Slowly she slid her hands up his arms, around his broad shoulders and over his back, delighting in his skin and his muscles and his pulse beneath her palms. She'd wanted him more than anything in her life. She'd never thought she could have him, and now that she held him in her arms, her mind almost refused to accept it, even as her body burned and rejoiced.
Taran buried his face in her neck with a muffled groan. The powerful alpha-so much bigger, so much stronger than her-wrapped his arms around her waist so tentatively she thought her heart would break.
He still smelled a little of his cologne and the indefinable, unmistakable odor of a changing or just-changed wolf. She likened the scent to clean soil and fresh leaves, with a hint of pine.
Taran breathed heavily as she trailed her open mouth across his shoulder and up his neck. His skin was hot against her tongue. «You want me,» she breathed. «You want me.»
«Fuck, Lark, yes,» he groaned. «I can't even… Christ, baby, I'm sorry.»
«Why?» She ran a finger down the scar on his cheek. The vein in his jaw began to twitch again.
«What's there to apologize for?» she asked softly.
He started to answer, but she crushed her mouth to his. She'd never taken a man's mouth like that before. She twisted her fingers in his silky amber locks as she raked the roof of his mouth with her tongue and arched against him.
She whimpered in protest when he suddenly broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers.
«Tell me to stop,» he rasped. «Tell me this is a mistake, and we need to stop, and I will.»
«Why?» she asked angrily. Hurt and confused at his sudden hesitation, she drew back. «You're the big bad alpha! You started it, damn it. You think it's such a mistake, stop it yourself.»
She cried out when he slid his hands under her, cupping her ass and pulling her hard against him, his stiff cock pressing into her stomach. His hot breath stirred her hair. She felt him smile.
«Are you challenging me, silly brat?» he growled.
His hands burned through her lounge pants. She hadn't put on panties after her bath, and she squirmed at the sensation of soaking wet flannel between her legs.
«I'm serious, Taran.» Her voice shook. So did her fingers as they drifted through the curly golden hair of his chest and stomach. «You can't start something like this and then act like you didn't mean to do it. And you can't call me 'silly brat' while you're squeezing my ass.»