Whichever it was, all she wanted to do was run. To feel the push and pull of muscle and sinew, to breathe in the scents of plants and earth and the small animals that called it all home. To hear the wind soughing through the branches.
How could she see in the darkness? Every tiny detail glowed with colors she couldn’t even identify. And since when did she know how the earth smelled?
Even her paws spoke to her. Here, roots rose above the dry ground. The ground was softer there, recently disturbed by the burrowing of a small animal. Dampness in this spot, a low area with tracks in the soft soil. Her nose told her it was from a rabbit.
An exhilarating, but also unsettling, experience. As she pushed through the underbrush, something moved. She was no longer alone. Maybe she never had been. A dark form shadowed her every movement. And she drank in the scent—male.
She unconsciously moved closer. Until they ran shoulder to shoulder beneath the moonlight.
Her heart threatened to take wing and outstrip her running paws. Every bump of his body against hers ignited a firestorm of sensation within her. She wanted—no, needed—something more. A sensuous craving crept from her very core. She panted with a heat she didn’t entirely understand. But it was something she unleashed in the innocence and relative safety of a dream.
He led her to a rise in the landscape. A rocky ridge where the trees pulled away, and the moon shone down on them.
His gaze glowed gold. His jaws dropped open, but in the moonlight, one side of his face seemed skewed.
Not skewed. Scarred. A horrible scar ran from above his eye to his muzzle. A scar she recognized.
Her dream thoughts screeched to a halt, and then reset, before resuming. Braden? But as a werewolf? Why was he in her dream?
He raised his nose to the night sky and howled.
The sound touched something within her. Something hot and primal. She lifted her muzzle.
And she howled with him.
* * *
The dreams continued to haunt Jessie into the daylight hours.
After nearly three weeks, she’d run out of insults to fling at the camera. Was she brave enough to pursue Troy for answers? It was difficult to garner respect from thugs when you shook like a leaf. She practiced a deep breathing exercise that she often used during long, hard shifts. It helped calm and focus her, reducing the shaking. By the time Troy arrived with supper, she was braced to tackle him.
He’d been for fast food. Again. Even if they decided to let her live, the burgers alone were going to kill her. Jessie took a final deep breath and went for it.
“I want to talk to Braden.”
Troy sneered at her. “Do you now.”
She lifted her chin. “It’s time he and I had a chat.”
The big man snorted a laugh. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“I need some answers.”
“Not sure you’re going to like them.” He handed her the bag. “Here you go. Enjoy.”
“You know, Subway has sandwiches. With real veggies.”
His entire face contorted. “Ugh. Who the hell wants that?” Then he grinned at her. It was more of a leer, with a side dish of pure perverted bastard. “With any luck, you’ll soon agree with me.”
He turned to leave.
Jessie pushed. “You tell Braden I want to talk with him.”
Troy moved so fast she didn’t have time to react. One second he was by the door, and the next he’d grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall.
His breath was hot in her face, his eyes glowing gold. “I’ll let him know you want a chat,” he growled. “But you do not order me. Ever. Got it?”
Gasping for breath, and her vision going black, she nodded. But he continued to hold her, his head slowly tilting sideways like a dog’s. Then he leaned forward and sniffed her. Starting at her breasts and traveling up her neck to her face. He pushed his hard body up against her. Pushed and ground his hips into her.
