Love of the Wild (6 page)

“Morning,” he said gruffly, not wishing to be particularly polite to a man he didn’t know and to another who despised his guts. “What time is it?”

“Sunrise.” Dak just looked at him, giving nothing away.

But the other man took a few steps closer, unabashed admiration in his heated stare. “Good morning, Jim. May I call you Jim? My name is Crow. I’m a lowly traveler from Montana. An old friend of your host, Dak.” His wink aimed at his old friend made Dak grimace. Then his attention returned to Jim. “I’ll be staying in the area for a few days. I’m staying in Conxing, at the Howling Creek Ranch, with the King family.”

“Oh. Me too.” Jim doubted this arrangement was a coincidence.

Crow’s playful chuckle confirmed as much. “Great. I can show you around town, and maybe we can go hiking and camping too. Good country for that.” His appreciative gaze traced Jim’s body leisurely. Jim flushed with heat. It had been a long time since anyone had studied his nakedness, or even his general appearance, with such intensity and desire.

He cleared his dry throat and forced a tentatively courteous smile on his lips. “Oh. Yeah, sure. Sounds, um, great.”

Crow stepped closer, standing by the bed. He extended his hand. In reflex, Jim shook the man’s hand, his own disappearing into a big palm with calluses and scars. Crow held on to him several moments too long for it to be anything but purposeful. “I look forward to it, Jim.” Finally Crow relinquished Jim’s hand, backed off with a seductive chuckle, and returned to stand by the door. He looked at Dak with something like triumph. “See you later, Dakotah.”

Then he was out the door, and the cabin was empty but for Jim and Dak.

“Who is he?” Jim asked warily.

“An old friend, like he said.” Dak closed the door and walked to the fireplace, stirring the glowing embers back into a roar. He crouched and added a log. Soon a lively fire lit up the cabin.

His explanation gave Jim nothing to work with. “Is he always so, um, overt?”

“With his desires? Yes. He knows what he wants and isn’t afraid to go after it.” Dak glanced at Jim over his shoulder, his expression undecipherable. “Right now, that’s you.”

Jim bristled. He felt like a plaything, and he sure as hell didn’t like it. “I came here to work, not to romance the local hotties.”

Dak quirked an eyebrow. “Hottie, huh? He’ll be pleased to hear that.”

Jim barely held on to his self-control. He was infuriated. “I don’t care. I’m not a piece of ass for one of you to just grab for a night.”

Dak stood up, his head cocked as he surveyed Jim. “You could do worse than Crow. Despite his lack of manners to possible love interests, he’s a good man.”

Shaking his head with disbelief, Jim said, “Love interests? Oh my God. You people are insane.” He started to get up. Surprisingly, he didn’t feel the slightest bit woozy. In fact, his head was clear, and there wasn’t even a trace of pain. His ankle felt fine too. As he was about to toss the covers aside, he noticed Dak still staring at him. “Turn around.”

Shaking his head as though he couldn’t believe Jim had just said that, Dak crouched back to stir the fire with a poker. Sparks flew and flames intensified.

Jim got up, snatched his clothes from the chair, and dressed quickly. He didn’t want to waste time shaving, and he doubted there were even any supplies to trim his beard properly. Then again, Dak sported a clean-shaven face. Once Jim had put his shoes on and moved to the cabin door, he said, “Thanks for taking care of me. Again. I promise there won’t be a third time.”

Dak didn’t turn to him. “We’ll see.”

His tone suggested he was prepared for the worst. Jim felt like gnawing the man a new asshole, and not in the good sense, either. Damn him. “Fine, whatever. Hold your breath till I come a-knocking.”

Before he got out, though, he felt Dak’s hand on his arm, stopping him. Surprised, Jim turned to Dak, whose expression was kind of somber. His eyes were darker than before, not more brown, but gloomy, glinting like reflections of the moon on still waters. Jim shivered, suddenly a bit afraid.

Dak’s grip tightened as he growled out, “What are you really looking for here?”

The words popped out of Jim’s mouth before he could stop them, as though he’d been mesmerized to tell the truth. “To find werewolves and write a story about them.”

“I see.” Dak let go, and briefly Jim stumbled, his arm hitting the door.

Why the hell did I say that?
He was immediately defensive. “I’m a writer. I’m getting older. Younger journalists are taking all the good adventure stories. I thought an in-depth piece about werewolves in the heartland of America would be my chance to….” His voice faded as Dak’s grimace made him feel like he was about to be snapped in half.

“A nature journalist trotting on the final frontier to spark his dying career. Such lofty ambitions for such noble reasons.” With a sarcastic scowl, Dak loomed over Jim, who was certain he was in imminent danger of bodily harm. “Be on your way, then, little sleuth. Go run with the wild.”

Dak didn’t shove Jim out but looked like he damn near meant to. Jim backed onto the porch as Dak stepped forward, and at least Dak managed not to slam the door in Jim’s face.

“A
RE
YOU
all right, Jim?” Daniel asked after Jim had parked the truck in the driveway of the King house, turned off the ignition, and stepped out to find Daniel there waiting, concerned.

Jim plastered a polite false smile on his face. “Great.” He looked toward the big white house with the front door open—and Crow leaning against the doorjamb, looking ever so relaxed and sexy. “Listen, Mr. King—”

“Daniel, please.”

“Right. Daniel, I think, um, I should stay in town, at the inn. Fewer complications.” His gaze flicked over Crow again.

Daniel followed his gaze, and his stance tensed. “You’ve met Crow?”

Jim snorted. “At Dak’s cabin.” He held back saying the guy had been there practically for no other reason than to rattle Dak and to ensure a near-future booty call with Jim.

To Jim’s surprise, he heard Daniel mutter something unseemly under his breath, and it sounded a lot like profanities. Daniel rubbed a hand across his mouth, still glaring in Crow’s direction, obviously deep in thought. Jim was immediately put on alert.

“What’s going on?” he asked, worried.

Daniel started and faced Jim, apparently shaken out of his grim thoughts. He appeared conflicted about something. “Listen, Jim. Don’t take this personally, but I have to ask. Why are you really here in Conxing?”

Jim didn’t know how much Dak would tell his friends in town. But if he had learned anything in his years in journalism, it was that rumors spread faster than wildfire, and that the truth typically surfaced sooner or later.

“I came to find werewolves. I wanted to do a kind of human interest story on them to revitalize my failing career and—”

Daniel closed the gap between them as he got right into Jim’s personal space. “Does Dak know this?”

Jim nodded slowly. “I told him just before I left.”

But Daniel seemed almost frantic now, threading his fingers through his hair. “Does Crow know?”

Frowning, Jim was utterly baffled, and he was getting annoyed. “No. He was gone by then. Why?”

Daniel wasn’t done. “Why did you come to search for lycans
here
?”

“I spoke with a couple of people about Wyoming on a website: Spot the Shades.”

Daniel frowned, confused. “What’s that?”

“The site changes its designation periodically. It used to be Spot the Shrouded and Unmask the Unveiled. It’s like a paparazzi site with celebrities, only the site’s by people who’ve noticed the formerly Veiled somewhere, or suspect their presence.”

The frenzied look Daniel had sported shifted to resignation and disappointment. “And you’re part of this… witch hunt?”

Realizing Daniel’s positive image of him had changed drastically, Jim hastened to say, “No, it’s not like that. They’re more fans than crazy stalkers. No one there wants to hurt anyone.”

“And you know this how exactly?” Daniel had gone as stony as Dak, his tone cold.

Clearly Jim had worn out his welcome. “I’ve dealt with these people for a long time. I refuse to believe they’re bad or up to no good.”

Suddenly a new voice joined the conversation. “I’m not sure if I should applaud your innocence or your naiveté.” Crow came to stand close to Jim, his blazed gaze aimed at Jim dead on. Then he grinned and winked at Daniel, who shook his head furiously.

“This is not your territory, Crow,” Daniel said, a definite warning in his tone.

Crow cocked an eyebrow much like Dak had a habit of doing. “Perhaps. But do not make the mistake of forgetting who you’re talking to, cub.”

Initially bewildered, Jim began to wise up. Crow looked a lot younger than Daniel, and yet he had called Daniel virtually a child. That could only mean….

Crow’s dusky eyes landed on Jim as he sniffed the air noticeably. “Smart man.”

Swallowing hard, Jim took a step back. “
You…. You’re… wolves…. Werewolves
.”

Unsure whether he should run like hell or turn on his recorder to make sure he had his story, Jim felt fear trickling up and down his spine.

“Listen, Jim, there’s a lot you don’t know.” Daniel was talking to Jim like to a child or a frightened animal, soothing him, holding his hands up in a calming manner.

But Jim felt cornered and in danger, and he was backing off instinctively.
Guess I’m not getting my story today or ever
.

Suddenly he sensed a presence behind him.

Scared, Jim inhaled deeply, planning on shouting for help as loudly as he could.

But as he filled his lungs, Dak’s musky scent sent his senses reeling with pleasure.

“Jim.” As always, Dak remained calm. Jim turned around. Dak stood tall, serene more than threatening. From a few feet away, he made no move to get closer, only held Jim’s gaze with his own. “We need to talk. Will you come inside with us?”

Torn in two, Jim felt his heart skip a beat. His cock jumped in his pants at the sound of Dak’s voice. He had an opportunity to get answers. But more importantly, he’d get to learn more about his reluctant savior.

Jim made his decision.

“P
LEASE
,
SIT
.”
Daniel gestured toward the black leather couch in the large, open space that functioned as a living room, open kitchenette, and hallway to the front door and patio out back. The air was fresh and cool, lacking fragrances of any kind. Only a slight smoky aroma came from the fireplace. The ultramodern interior design still seemed unexpected, but even when he’d arrived the day before, Jim had liked the ambience.

Nodding, Jim did as he was asked and plopped down on his butt. Dak and Crow sat on the couch opposite his, but kept their distance from each other.

“Jim? Would you like something to drink?” Daniel asked from the kitchen.

“Sure, a beer.” Then he shook his head. “No, wait. Um, a whiskey, if you have any.”

Daniel chuckled. “One Glenlivet coming up.”

“No ice.”

Daniel nodded his understanding, headed to the liquor cabinet, poured three fingers of dark-golden liquid, and gave it to Jim, who accepted with murmured thanks. He downed the whole thing in one swallow, his throat burning while the caramel flavor lingered on his tongue. Daniel quickly refilled his glass before sitting down as well.

Jim decided to take the lead. “Look, I’m sorry I hid my purpose for coming here, but I didn’t want to alarm anyone about the possibility of werewolves in the neighborhood. Never know how people might take such news in the heartlands.”

“Perfectly understandable.” Crow sent a charming smile Jim’s way.

Dak growled low under his breath, and Jim was aroused, shivering. All the hairs on his nape stood on end, and his body was flushed with heat, his blood boiling. Why couldn’t he control his reaction to this man? Uncomfortable and blushing, Jim shifted on the couch.

“Could someone please tell me what’s happening here?” he asked, half-pleading.

“Shouldn’t you be recording this?” Dak cut in curtly. “You know, to get ready to out us to the world that would like nothing better than to destroy us?”

Taken aback by the verbal attack, though understanding Dak’s reasons, Jim stammered to explain he had no sinister motives.

But Crow beat him to it. “Don’t be so boorish, Dakotah. I’m sure Jim here has thought this through before coming here. I’m sure he has considered
all
the possible consequences of his actions. One can hardly blame him for career ambitions, and the world is not quite as dark as you paint it, old friend.”

For some reason, Jim didn’t want Crow on his side. “I don’t want to out anyone against their will. The piece I had in mind was like a human—um, lycan-interest story. To show the world wolves aren’t so bad. I can use pseudonyms and such. No one would—”

“Get hurt?” Dak finished for him, his angry stone mask in place. Jim really wanted to know if the man was even capable of smiling. “Are you really that stup—”

“Dak, please,” Daniel interjected, his tone rising sharply. “There’s no need to resort to name-calling.” He sighed wearily, rubbing his forehead. “I’m sure Jim meant no harm.”

“I didn’t. I don’t.” Jim needed these men—these wolves—to believe him.

Crow laughed heartily, as if nothing could be too grave. “Jim’s intentions aside. That’s not the important thing here, now is it, gentlemen?”

When Dak and Daniel exchanged glum glances, Jim felt trepidations. “What?”

Crow nodded toward Dak. “You’re the one he found first. This is
your
responsibility. For now.” The man took a leisurely sip of his bottle of water, seemingly without a care.

Worried sick, Jim faced Dak, whose face resembled a storm cloud. “Dak, what does he mean?”

His hazel gaze dropping to the floor, Dak asked, “How much do you know about lycans?”

Reaching into his mental notes, Jim recounted, “Werewolves can live for a very long time, maybe forever. They mostly live and hunt in packs. They’re territorial—”