Blood Wolf Dawning. Rhyannon Byrd
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increasing problems with her powers, none of them had ever figured out her secret—and she sure as hell never planned on telling them the truth.
Now, after everything that had happened and all the time that had passed, she could hardly believe he was standing in front of her. All the pain she’d tried so hard to bury these past years came rushing back in a surge of emotion, cutting its way through her insides like a scalpel, and she shuddered as she took another step back from him, shaking, no doubt turning as pale as a ghost. She watched his eyes darken with sympathy, and her palm tingled with the urge to slap his beautiful, faithless face.
“I didn’t know,” he said again, the rough words sounding scraped from his throat. “I would have come home sooner, Sayre. I wouldn’t have stayed away. I was only trying to—”
“Stop!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear it, because if you say you left to protect me from your big bad self, so help me, God, I just might have to kill you.”
He pulled in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he shoved one of those big hands back through his thick, dark-as-midnight hair. She’d never seen it as short as it was now, the ends only just brushing the back of his collar. “You know, I should have left for that reason. But I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have had the strength. As bad as I am, Sayre, I left to protect you from something even worse.”
“Oh, God, that’s funny,” she said with a choked laugh, wrapping her arms around her middle. But no matter how tightly she squeezed, she still felt like she teetered on the cusp of falling apart. “What could be worse than you?”
He flinched at that brutal assessment, but didn’t back down. “It’s a long story and we don’t have the time to get into it now. I just...I need you to trust me.”
“Cian, just stop,” she said with a derisive snort. “I honestly didn’t know you could be this freaking hilarious.”
“This isn’t a goddamn joke,” he muttered, giving her a look that seemed to say he was thinking of putting her over his knee and swatting her backside. And, God, did that piss her off. He’d lost the right to even think about putting his hands on her.
“You’re damned right it’s not a joke,” she seethed, crackling with so much energy she was in danger of singeing her beloved garden. “Now get the hell off my land!”
“Sayre.” He said her name on a long, drawn-out sigh, sounding too much like an adult who’d lost his patience with an unruly teen, and she felt her fury tip from emotion...right into action. Bathed in a fiery shower of sparks, she reached behind her and whipped out the gun she always kept tucked against her lower back when she was outside on her own. Just because she didn’t need the weapon didn’t mean it didn’t come in handy. Especially when dealing with rowdy human males who wandered onto her land, thinking they could cause trouble with the woman who lived there on her own. And right now, it felt unbelievably sweet to point the gleaming barrel directly at Cian Hennessey’s no-good heart.
He shot her a dry look and slowly arched one of his raven-black brows. “It’s a pretty toy,” he drawled, the lazy way he crossed his muscular arms over his chest telling her he didn’t believe for one second that she’d shoot him. “But you know that bullets won’t kill me, Sayre.”
“They might not kill you, but they’ll hurt like a bitch.”
“You really think I could believe that you’d pull the trigger? You’re a healer, not a—”
“Seriously?” she laughed, cutting him off as she unlocked the safety with a practiced flick of her thumb. “You might have watched me grow up, Cian, but don’t for an instant think that you know what I’m capable of as a woman. I’ve had to deal with more crap since you left than you could ever imagine. People change. I’ve changed. So when I pull a gun out, you can bet your ass that I plan to use it.”
His sexy mouth pressed into a hard, irritated, challenging line. “Then do it.”
She aimed for less than an inch from the toe of his right boot, and fired a perfect shot.
“Shit!” he cursed, jumping back a step. “What the hell, woman? Have you lost your bloody mind?”
“I told you I’d do it.” She kept her tone hard and cold, determined to make him see that she meant business, and slowly raised her aim. “So tell me, Cian. Do you really want to play this game?”
He worked his jaw for a few seconds, no doubt cursing her to hell and back. Then his scowl smoothed out, and his eyes narrowed to the point that it was impossible to read the look in them. Whatever he was thinking as he calmly turned on his heel and headed back to his car—the back view of his tall, powerful body damn near as mouthwatering as the front—was something he didn’t want her to pick up on. And that made her nervous.
When she called his name out, just as he was opening his car door, he looked back at her over his broad shoulder, and she gave him a sharp, icy smile. “If you like your body without any extra holes in it, don’t bother coming back.”
Knowing Sayre needed some time to calm down, Cian climbed back into the Audi. He drove nearly a quarter of a mile down the mountain, then pulled over into a flat grassy area on the side of the road and parked. Though he never would have believed it, the beautiful little witch had been ready to put a freaking bullet in him. He’d have been incredibly proud over the way she’d stood up for herself, if her target had been anything other than his own body...and the circumstances weren’t so serious.
But they were, which was why there was no way in hell he was tucking his tail between his legs and running. This was nothing but a change in strategy, and a good hunter always knew when to step back and regroup. So while he might have let her think she’d won the first round, he was already focused on the second, determined to be the one who came out on top in the end.
On top of her, you mean, the wolf’s gravelly voice rumbled in his head, and he rolled his eyes at the beast’s wishful thinking. Not that it wouldn’t have been nice—and by nice he meant fucking exceptional—but he knew that sex was the last damn thing he could afford to think about in connection with Sayre. Too much of that already took place when he finally allowed himself to sleep.
Though he’d tried not to, Cian had been dreaming about Sayre Murphy from the moment he’d walked away. Hell, even before that, when he was still living in the Alley and fighting his need for her on a daily basis. But the dreams had been...evolving over the last few months, and while many of them were more nightmare than fantasy now, the erotic ones were becoming shockingly intense. Not that they’d ever been tame—but there was a feverish, visceral edge to them now that had him strung so tightly he was surprised he hadn’t snapped. Over the past few weeks, he’d awakened so many times thrusting and clawing at his sheets that he’d started to feel like a perpetually randy teen again, and God only knew he’d spent too many years perfecting that testosterone-driven stage of his life.
But even his dreams hadn’t done the reality of her justice.
Sayre at eighteen had been beautiful. But Sayre at twenty-three was enough to make him want to sell his goddamn soul for the chance to touch her. She was that incredible. So earthy and warm and sensual that it’d taken every ounce of his strength to claw on to his control when he’d approached her, instead of taking her down to the ground and claiming every inch of her lush little body for his own.
Only the certainty that she’d hate him in the end had enabled him to fight that fierce, possessive pull. That...and the fact that he had no business touching her when he could never give her the things she deserved. Christ, he couldn’t even give her next month, much less promises of love and a family and forever.
Careful to stay hidden, he made his way back up the mountain on foot and studied her cabin from the shelter of the woods. The place was small but