Exactly. Because you saw my dad.
“But it had to be you. How many others could there be with those distinctive green eyes, thick black coat, and a diamond pattern on your forehead? You’re very unusual looking. And larger than most wolves, too.”
Right, but I’m not a— He caught himself before he finished the sentence. He was only thinking, but he had an uneasy feeling she was hearing some of those thoughts. He didn’t want to take a chance that he’d plant an idea in her head.
“Anyway, I’ll miss you, wolf. I wouldn’t mind having you drop by now and then, but I don’t suppose that’s wise. The more often you’re spotted near a residence, the more likely someone will decide you’re a danger to small children and lapdogs. You need to stay away from people. I promise I’ll be more careful about bears from now on, so you can relax on that score.”
He couldn’t seem to stop gazing at her. She was so beautiful, with her soft hair framing her face and her gray eyes filled with affection for him. He could easily stay away from other humans, but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stay away from her.
“Go on, now. Eat your hamburger.” Reaching out, she stroked his head. “I didn’t mean to distract you.”
The warmth of her touch ran through him like a jolt of electricity. He quivered in reaction.
“Your coat is incredibly soft. I always imagined it would be coarse, but it’s not.” She looked into his eyes as she combed her fingers through his fur. “We do have a connection, don’t we?”
Yes. He leaned into her caress.
“I think that’s very cool, but I don’t want to put you in danger.” With a sigh, she lifted her hand and stood.
Please don’t stop stroking me.
“Finish that hamburger. It’s time you were on your way.”
He swallowed a whine of longing. The urge to stay and somehow blend their two very different worlds had become powerful, almost too powerful to resist. No doubt the Wallace brothers had felt this way, and they’d succumbed. He would not, by God. He would not.
Summoning all his willpower, he returned his attention to the hamburger and finished it off. When he looked up, she’d moved into the living room. He walked out of her bedroom knowing he’d never see it again.
Good thing he needed a bathroom break. At this moment, it was the only thing propelling him out the door. Yet his belief in a clean separation of the two species—human and Were—was the only world order that made sense to him. He had to adhere to it, no matter how much he longed to hold on to his connection with Rachel.
“Come on, wolf. Let’s get this over with.” Striding toward the back door, she opened it with a dramatic flourish. “I’ll bet you can hardly wait to be free again.”
No. I want to stay.
She turned back to him, her expression puzzled. “You do want to leave, right?”
There was only one good answer to that. Lifting his head, he met her gaze. Yes.
“I thought so.” She opened the screen door and held it for him as she walked out on the deck. “Then go, wolf. And don’t pick any more fights with bears, okay?”
To his astonishment, she sounded emotional, as if she might be on the verge of tears.
I won’t.
“Good,” she murmured. “Now, take off.”
He did. This time when he bounded down the steps, he didn’t stumble. He was stronger now. At the bottom he looked back.
She stood with her arms wrapped protectively around her midsection, as if in pain. Her expression was bleak. “Go!” she called out.
He sprinted for the trees. Lingering would only make everything tougher on both of them. He emptied his bladder and started the journey back home. It was only later that he realized that she’d made some response to every telepathic thought he’d had.
That wasn’t supposed to be possible.
Chapter 7
Rachel pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed the buttons that connected her to Lionel. “He’s taken off. He went to the right, headed around the lake.”
Lionel’s voice came through the phone. “I’m on it. How is he?”
“I hope he’s strong enough. It was weird, though. I imagined I could hear him thinking.”
“Yeah, well, you know what they say about artists. A little bit strange.”
“I know. Flaky as hell. Follow him, okay? I need to know he’s made it to . . . wherever he’s going.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Text me if you get a chance, to let me know the situation.”
“I will. Go pour yourself a glass of wine and relax.”
“Fat chance.” She disconnected and stood staring at the spot in the woods where the wolf had disappeared. Stay safe, wolf.
An answer popped into her head, as if from a radio transmission. Always, Rachel.
She told herself she’d imagined the response. She’d wanted to believe he was okay and she’d fabricated his telepathic message to make her feel secure. But then she thought over their last few minutes together and what she’d admitted to Lionel.
While she’d talked to the wolf and stroked his fur, he’d looked into her eyes as if absorbing every word. She’d swear that he responded, somehow, because she’d felt communication flow between them.
No doubt she was letting her overactive imagination run away with her again. She couldn’t really read a wolf’s mind.
But what if she could? She’d heard of people who communicated mentally with dogs, cats, even horses. Why couldn’t she receive the transmissions of this wolf, especially if they had a special connection?
Closing her eyes, she tried to tune in again, but all she got was static. She sent out a question. Where are you? No answer came back. That made sense. If he was running for his life and concentrating on protecting himself, he wouldn’t have time to play telepathy games with her.
No, she couldn’t expect little messages of comfort when his very existence was in jeopardy. But she couldn’t leave the deck and go back inside. That would seem like deserting him.
So she’d stay right here and enjoy the view, something she didn’t do often enough. Polecat Lake, despite its unlovely name, was gorgeous. Evergreens framed the waterline except for the mirror-image clearings, where her cabin sat on one side and Jake’s on the other.
Off to her right, a vista both she and Jake could enjoy, mountains rose in eternally snowcapped splendor. Had she been a painter instead of a carver, she’d be moved to capture them with her brush. But she’d always been drawn to the tactile pleasure of woodworking.
The cell phone in her hand chimed. Eager for news, she opened the text from Lionel.
Picked up his trail. No blood.
She answered immediately. Good. Knowing that the wolf wasn’t bleeding loomed large in her mind. He had to make it to safety. He had to.
Humans. Must avoid.
She drew in a quick breath. She hadn’t imagined that communication. The words had come through clearly, and they could be from only one source.
Somehow in the time they’d spent together, she’d managed to tune in. The connection wasn’t perfect or constant, but in times of intense concentration on the wolf’s welfare, she was able to pick up his thoughts.
Leaning against the deck railing, she clutched the weathered wood with both hands and focused on the wolf. If he was in danger from the humans he’d sensed nearby, she’d hear his panic. She could text Lionel, who might be able to get there in time to intercede.