Jane Jamison Read online

  “There was a reward after the first time he killed. But then he disappeared soon after that. This is the first time I’ve seen him in a long time.”

  And I blew his chance to get the beast.

  She started to apologize but decided not to. Could she help it if the werewolf had found her first? Did he even realize that it was a werewolf and not just a really big wolf?

  She watched the pockets of his jeans move up and down with his movements. If she didn’t know better, she’d swear his ass was teasing her, tempting her to reach out and get personal. “He’s a really big wolf, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah. I’ve never seen a bigger one.” He glanced over his shoulder and tossed her another grin. “You handled yourself okay back there. Aside from making me miss my shot.”

  Okay, maybe I should apologize. “Sorry about that. But I didn’t know you were there until you fired the shot.”

  “I’m just glad he didn’t hurt you.”

  The sincerity in his voice sounded real. She hurried up, catching up with him as he increased his pace. They continued walking the rest of the way, exchanging tidbits about Passion and Tony’s Diner. The conversation was light, allowing her to concentrate more on the way his body moved. He was comfortable in the wooded surroundings, surefooted with an easy gait, but she had a feeling that his kind of confidence would serve him well in any type of situation.

  “Here we are.”

  He waited for her at the edge of Parking Lot A. She wiped the sweat from her brow and noticed that he didn’t have a drop of sweat on him. Was she easily overheated?

  “My Range Rover is at the far end. How about if I meet you back at this entrance? You can follow me from there.”

  “Sounds good. I’m in the Jeep parked over there.”

  She watched him as he strode away, not ready to stop admiring his body. Just as she started moving toward the Jeep, he turned and caught her checking out his butt again. He gave her a searching look then grinned.

  Crap. He caught me looking.

  She ducked her head and lifted her hand in a quick wave. Something told her he’d caught a lot of girls checking out his butt. She put her gear into the backseat and slid behind the wheel. In a few seconds, a black Range Rover pulled in behind her. Blake honked the horn then maneuvered his car into position at the exit and stopped, waiting for her to pull in behind him.

  * * * *

  Burl Scaggs shook off the aftereffects of his transformation to human form. He sat on his bunk and turned his head to gaze at his eyes in the cracked mirror sitting on the barrel that served as his nightstand. The small room behind the automobile repair shop wasn’t up to his usual standard of living, but it was only temporary. Working with his hands, getting them dirty repairing cars, was a welcome change of pace. Soon enough, he’d return to his real life in Denver.

  He rubbed the coarse stubble that covered his jaw. He’d long ago stopped hiding his face behind a full beard and mustache. Gone were the glasses he wore to work so he could read the small numbers on the never-ending stream of papers. Shifting to his werewolf form strengthened his eyes, and as long as he was able to get out of the city and run under the moon whenever the bloodlust took him, he could endure the day-to-day monotony of his accounting job and the boring chatter of his so-called friends.

  The people he worked for in his normal life wouldn’t recognize him if they saw him now. On his vacation, he’d exchanged his suits and ties for jeans and work shirts then headed to one of the outlying towns surrounding the city.

  But it had been a long time since he’d last come to Passion. It was almost ten years ago to the day that he’d first found his way into the woods surrounding the picturesque town with its art galleries, restaurants, and rental cabins. Ten years ago he’d almost taken the girl with the long curly brown hair and spattering of freckles over her nose. She would’ve made a good fuck and subservient pack member. But the man and the boy had gotten in his way.

  He licked his lips. He’d never gotten over losing the girl. Had, in fact, searched for her later, but had come up empty. She hadn’t lived around Passion or Denver, and he’d failed to find out where she’d come from. Realizing that he’d never find her had been a bitter pill to swallow.

  But now she’s back.

  She was pretty, even more now than she’d been ten years ago. She had an extra something about her that made his mouth water and his cock throb. That and the fact that she was the only girl to have ever gotten away from him made seeing her again a dream come true.

  If only that damn man and his boy hadn’t gotten in my way the first time.

  To exact payback, he’d come back five years later and had taken the man who’d prevented him from having the girl. He only wished that he’d killed the boy, now a young man, as well. He had, in fact, thought he had. Who knew the boy was made of stronger stuff? He’d torn him apart and, thinking him dead, left him beside his father’s body. Instead, the young man had survived and his wounds had changed him into a werewolf.

  Another five years passed with him waiting as long as he could. But the bloodlust had grown too powerful to withstand. His inner beast’s need to kill was a yearning that would never go away. Once its call grew too loud, he listened and hurried to do its bidding.

  Still, if he had finished the job five years ago, the young man wouldn’t have been around, and he would’ve gotten the girl today.

  He lay back on the bunk that served as his bed and stared at the single lightbulb hanging by a cord from the ceiling. A moth flew around the light, destined to be consumed by its obsession with the heat.

  He’d overheard Branson and the woman talking as he hid in the bushes, his need to slash them with his deadly claws pulling at him even as his human mind warned him to stay hidden. She’d said her name was Samantha Chambers. Not that he’d forgotten her. He remembered her name from ten years earlier, when he’d asked about her at the campsite following her rescue. Since the girl had been returned in a short time and in good health, the news media had dropped the story for more titillating ones.

  The young girl had grown into a beautiful woman, as he’d known she would. He hadn’t expected to get another chance at her, but luck was on his side. He’d come to kill, but killing her wasn’t his first choice. Instead, he’d kill Branson for getting in his way again, keeping him from fulfilling the job he should’ve finished earlier.

  He reached over to the cigar box on the barrel and flipped it open. Without looking, he found the furry object and held it up to study it in the dim light. The rabbit’s foot had deteriorated over the years, but its two colors were still clear enough. He held it higher and remembered how he’d snagged the necklace away from its owner. He’d seen the dying light in the man’s eyes flare with anger one last time as he’d ripped it from the man’s bloody neck. Smiling, he tossed it back into the cigar box.

  The growl came low from deep inside his throat. He’d seen how Branson had looked at her, the desire, the yearning evident in the way he treated her even though he’d been angry with her. If the young Branson took her as his lover, he’d take extra delight in spreading her legs and fucking her. Maybe he’d even tear Branson apart first, putting him near the edge of death. Then he’d make Branson watch as he transformed back into his human form and shoved his cock first into her mouth, then her ass, and finally into her pussy. After he fucked her, he’d let his werewolf take over to make her scream for Branson to save her. He’d laugh as Branson choked on his own blood then sink his fangs into her neck, all while keeping his gaze on the dying man. If only he could keep him alive long enough to see her turn. But that would take too long.

  Burl sneered. Once he changed her, he could take her back to his home in Denver and put her in the special windowless room hidden in the rear of his basement. The last girl, barely of legal age, had lasted only a few months before taking her own life. He hadn’t found anyone he liked well enough to take her place—until now.

  Again, Branson’s face came back to haunt h
im. His gut tightened, warning him to be careful. Branson had survived the first attack, which meant he was now a werewolf. He should bow to him as his maker, but he doubted the young man would do so. He had too much independence, too much freedom, and too many years had passed for Burl to claim that right.

  Using his inner werewolf’s speed, he rose from the bunk and caught the moth in his hand. He could feel it flutter against his palm, searching for an escape. Pretending that the moth was the young Branson, he squeezed his hand together, crushing the bug.

  “I’m going to crush you, you little turd. I’ll crush you, then take what should’ve been mine ten years ago.”

  He opened his fist, studied the squished remains of the moth, then wiped it on his jeans. Until the next opportunity to get Samantha Chambers came along, he’d have to take someone else to quench his need for blood. He smiled, letting his fangs slide out.

  * * * *

  Sam parked her Jeep behind Blake’s vehicle then paused to look at the home. The house was situated on a large lot, maybe even five or more acres, outside the town limits of Passion. Although the blue-frame home with white trim looked cozy, with a large porch with potted plants hanging from hooks from the overhead beams, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. After all, what did she know about Blake except the fact that he’d saved her from the werewolf? Granted that was a lot, but had his main goal been to save her or to shoot the werewolf? She’d just gotten in the way. And then there was the other question. Did he know it was a werewolf? He hadn’t acted surprised at the wolf’s size and appearance.

  Maybe she should check in with Loren and tell her where she was before walking into a strange man’s home. She reached behind her and lugged her backpack into the front passenger seat. Pulling out her cell phone from the side flap, she quickly dialed Loren’s number. Loren had lived in Passion most of her life. If anyone could tell her something about Blake, it would be her.

  Blake moved toward the house, paused, and waved for her to follow. “This is it.”

  She lifted one finger as she held the phone to her ear. Loren picked up on the third ring.

  “Talk to me, lady.”

  Sam smiled. That was Loren. Straight to the point. Loren was of Chinese-American heritage and had been brought up in a very strict Tiger Mom Asian household where women were supposed to follow time-honored traditions to the letter, and nothing except the best was expected from their children. But Loren was the original free spirit and had split from her family as soon as she could. As a waitress at Tony’s diner, Loren wasn’t living up to her family’s expectations, but she didn’t, as Loren put it, “give a rat’s ass what they think.” Sam loved Loren’s short, spiky black haircut and the trendy clothes she wore. She loved Loren’s zest for life and how her new friend was more than willing to tell anyone and everyone exactly what she thought.

  “I’ve got a question for you.” Sam smiled at Blake, who waited patiently on the front lawn.

  “Shoot.”

  “Have you ever heard of a guy named Blake Branson?”

  Loren’s quick intake of air had Sam turning to face away from Blake to hide any reaction she’d have to Loren’s answer. “Is that a good gasp or a bad gasp?”

  “Girl, he is primo stock. Hotter than hell and, from what I’ve heard, an amazing lay.”

  Sam glanced at Blake then turned her head again. She could easily imagine that he was as great in bed as rumor had it. “Okay, other than his reputation as a good sex partner, what do you know about him?”

  “Let’s see. He’s got a good rep around town as a standup guy who treats people well and women with respect. But not too much respect, if you get my meaning.”

  “So it’s okay if I go home with him?” She grimaced. She hadn’t meant for it to come out like that.

  “As in going home with him for the night? Hell, yeah! Go for it, girl. I know I would.”

  Sam held up her finger again to Blake, signaling him that she wouldn’t be too much longer. Besides, her hand was throbbing, and she wanted to find some pain meds fast. “No, not like that. As a friend. He kind of saved my life tonight.”

  “What? What the hell happened? Do you need me to come to you? I can round up at least five guys to help us pound down anyone you need us to beat up.”

  “Calm down. I’m fine. I just wanted to check with you first. I’ll tell you everything when I get back to the apartment.” Loren had been nice enough to let Sam stay with her until she could find a place of her own, but both girls liked living with each other so much that Loren had invited her to stay indefinitely.

  “You bet your sweet ass you will. I’m going to want all the deets.”

  “Look, I’ve got to go. He’s waiting on me. But in the meantime, can you call Tony, and tell him that I won’t be in tonight? I cut my hand, and I’m going to need to take a few pain pills tonight. I wouldn’t be much good at holding a tray of food.”

  “Are you all right? If you need me, I’m there.”

  Sam smiled, warmed by Loren’s concern. “No, no. I’m getting it looked at now. Just tell Tony I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about Tony. He’ll get over it. Just take care, okay?”

  “I will. See you in a few.” Ending the call, she kept her gaze averted from Blake’s until she could steady her nerves and take a deep breath. Here I come.

  Chapter Three

  Blake opened the front door of his home then stood back to allow Sam to enter first. She smiled her thanks and stepped over the threshold.

  From the first moment she set foot in the house, she could tell that this was a man’s house. Comfortable furnishings of primarily tans and blacks dominated the open living room area. Two leather recliners as well as a huge leather sectional couch filled the room, with a large flat-screen television mounted on the wall over the stone fireplace. Her gaze drifted from the living room into the dining room, where she saw a sturdy oak table with four chairs. Very few photographs hung on the walls, giving the interior a less-than-homey feel. Yet, at the same time, she could easily picture herself living there.

  Having been raised in a wealthy family, she’d lived in various houses across the country. Her family owned homes in New York City, Miami, Chicago, Dallas, and Los Angeles, not to mention homes in France and England, but none of those elegantly decorated houses had ever seemed comfortable to her. She’d felt more like a visitor in those homes than she did in Blake’s house.

  He caught her studying the house. “I know. It’s kind of rough, but that’s because there are three of us living here.”

  “Three?” As in three men? Or did a woman live there without making her mark on how the house was decorated?

  “Yeah. I live with a couple of my friends.” Blake’s intense blue eyes searched her, but she didn’t know whether he was expecting approval or a challenge from her.

  “That’s nice. I live with a friend of mine, too. She kind of took me in when I moved to town, and since we both enjoyed the arrangement, I stayed on.”

  His smile could’ve melted an ice queen. And she was no ice queen. Her stomach did a strange flip as he kept his gaze steady. She held up her hand. “Didn’t you say something about getting my hand looked at? This doesn’t look much like a clinic.”

  He tipped his head toward the kitchen. “Come on. Victor’s probably down in the basement.”

  She stayed rooted to the spot. “The basement?” A tickle of anxiety eased into her.

  Blake had started toward the kitchen but turned back when he realized she hadn’t moved. “I know it sounds strange, but I swear I’m not about to lock you up in some hole-in-the-wall room and turn you into a sex slave.” He blinked. “Not that any man wouldn’t want you as a sex slave.”

  He grimaced. “Sorry. I hope you know what I meant. Sometimes I say things my brain should never let past my mouth.”

  For a moment, her libido got in the first word before her sensible mind took over. If she could be anyone’s sex slave, she’d be his. “Don’t worry about it. B
ut I have to admit that I’m not very keen on basements.”

  “This isn’t your average basement. Come on. I’ll show you.”

  He pivoted and strode through the kitchen. She hurried to catch up to him, but he was already waiting for her at a door on the opposite side of the room. He opened the door and led the way down the stairs.

  He’d told her the truth. She’d only taken a couple of steps when she stopped and let her mouth fall open.

  A group of people sat on a long bench on one wall while a pretty woman dressed in a formfitting shirt and jeans took the blood pressure of a young pregnant woman. A man, striking in his lean face and longish hair, glanced up at them, his gaze darting from Blake to her then back again. He nodded once at Blake then went back to listening to a man’s chest through a stethoscope.

  Blake waited for her at the bottom of the stairs. “See what I mean? This is not your average basement.”

  “Hey. What’s up, man?”

  An incredible-looking man slammed a hand down on Blake’s shoulder. He was already looking her over before Blake had a chance to answer.

  “Reed, this is Samantha Chambers. Sam for short. At least that’s what her friends call her.”

  Reed surprised her by jumping onto the step in front of her then taking his time to check her over. Light-brown eyes sparkled with the beginnings of laugh lines at their edges.

  “Hi. I’m sure we’re going to be friends, because any friend of Blake’s is a friend of mine. So that means I can call you Sam, right? I’m Reed Hudson. Welcome to the Underground Clinic.”

  The same kind of sensation she’d experienced with Blake rushed through her, making her tighten her grip on the railing. What was with her? She’d never had such visceral reactions to any man before, and now it had happened twice.

  He offered her his hand, but Blake pushed him out of the way, took her hand, and helped her the rest of the way down the staircase. “This isn’t called the Underground Clinic. In fact, it doesn’t even have a name, although, yeah, it is a clinic.”