Sadie Hart (15 page)

Ollie started to turn when Caine stepped to
the side, hands still wrapped around the tire and suddenly she was
spinning slowly, mesmerized by the soft, whirling glow of lanterns.
As the spinning stopped, she could see he’d lined four of them up
in a small circle around a blanket laid out on the ground. The
basket sat in the middle, a stack of paper plates tossed next to
it. Star moseyed around the edges, sniffing and no doubt waiting
eagerly for the basket to open.

Her heart expanded until Ollie wasn’t sure
she could breathe. Caine nipped her ear gently, and her eyes
drifted shut. “It’s perfect,” breathed.

“Good. Took all my brainpower to come up with
it.” He grinned against her cheek. “But you need a break, and if I
only get one night, I want to make damn sure you have the vacation
you need.”

Caine gave the swing another shove and Ollie
leaned into it, so that the wind caught her hair and whipped it
around her face. “So,” Caine called out from the sidelines. “Was it
worth waiting two whole days?”

“How’d you even find this place?” Her heels
caught in the dirt as she yanked herself to a stop, breathless.
Exhilarated.

“I went scouting the night you said yes.
Figured it’d be best to stay close, but I wanted some privacy too.”
He jerked his chin towards the small clearing. “Looks like a
well-used place.”

“It is. We used to play here all the time.
I’ve been a cop, a robber, and a knight in shining armor. All right
here.”

When Caine held out a hand, her gaze drifted
to meet his, steel on deep, dark brown, and her heart caught in her
throat. Empty of anger, frustration, and the thousand other
emotions he’d been struggling with since they’d first met, his eyes
were gorgeous. Compelling. A darkness that glittered now with its
own stars. “Well, tonight you get to be a princess.”

Ollie slid out of the swing and took his
hand, letting Caine guide her to the checkerboard blanket. Star
trotted over and plopped down, her nose pressed against the basket,
and she gave an exasperated sigh. The dog nudged the basket and
eyed them both. Caine chuckled.

“She’s hungry,” Caine said as he leaned over
to give the dog a pat, before turning to look at Ollie. “You know,
she reminds me of you.”

“Because she’s hungry?” Ollie’s hand went to
her middle, eyes narrowing. She knew she wasn’t skinny, but
tread-carefully-Mr.-Wolf she wanted to say, because big teeth or
not, calling a woman fat would be one hell of a way to ruin a first
date. Caine flashed her a grin.

“The whole Lassie motif. Save the victim and
then some. I always thought the collie could be more of a superhero
if Timmy would just stop distracting her by falling down
wells.”

Then he flipped open the basket and the sweet
aroma of freshly baked bread instantly made her mouth water. “Oh
God,” she said and leaned over to get a look inside. “Is that cake?
Do you know how many carbs are in this dinner?”

Caine tossed back his head and laughed, a
deep throaty sound so unrestrained it made her pulse leap. “Don’t
worry,” he said as he scooped out a plastic container and popped
open the lid to reveal lasagna, still steaming. “We’ll burn it all
off later.”

“Cocky, much?” Ollie asked, drawing another
soft chuckle as Caine shook his head.

“I actually meant a run. But I’d be up for
that too.” His voice lowered and he let his gaze wander. First to
her lips, and Ollie immediately wanted him to kiss her again. Lean
forward and take her lips with his. Instead his gaze skimmed lower,
an almost physical touch, like butterfly wings down her neck, and
then still lower, like a slow, erotic caress. She could almost feel
his fingertips tracing the scooped edge of her shirt.

“A run sounds good,” she said, breathless, as
she watched the predatory gleam in his eyes.

His gaze flicked back up and the hunger
simmering in his coffee-colored irises had nothing to do with the
food in his hands. “I’d rather kiss you again.”

“That, too.”

Caine’s gaze turned hooded as he leaned
forward, moving to set the bowl of pasta aside when Star darted in,
long muzzle honing in on the dish, and they both lunged to cover
it. A low oomph sounded as they crashed into each other. Star
shoved her head into the basket, plucked out a mini loaf of bread,
and was gone before they could react. White tail flagged high, she
darted into the woods with her prize.

“Star!” Ollie started to go after her when
Caine looped a hand around her waist and drew her back down to the
blanket, shoving plates and silverware aside.

“Let her go.”

Ollie had been kissed plenty of times in the
past, but no one made her whole body go tight with anticipation
quite like Caine. Her breath locked in her throat, unwilling to
slip past her lips as his head came down. He froze, a scant breath
away from her mouth, and he inhaled, breathing her down deep. Ollie
let out the breath she was holding so she could scent him too.

The thick furry scent of wolf, woods, open
air, it filled her lungs, but it was more than that. There was the
subtle touch of man there too, inexplicably him, and she savored
the scent of him the way one might savor the taste of chocolate,
rolling it around on their tongue.

When he kissed her this time it was with a
fast ghost of his lips against hers, there and gone, as if he’d
never been there at all, except for the lingering tingle that
darted from her lips, sending pleasurable sizzles throughout her
body, filling her with heat. Desire.

The next kiss was deeper, demanding. For
Caine, alpha wasn’t just a title; dominance exuded from every pore
of his body, was buried deep in the marrow of his bones. It was who
he was.

A growl snaked out between his lips, a low
vibration that skittered over her skin, and Ollie wrapped a hand
around the back of his neck and held him to her. Her fingertips
wound through his hair, before tracing down to tickle the line of
his jaw. She reveled in the way smooth skin turned to stubble,
scraping at her chin where he kissed her. She arched into his touch
as his hand slid lower, wrapping around her waist. He might have
been a man who seemed to always have everything under control, but
he trembled now.

“Caine,” she murmured, and he grinned against
her lips.

“Catch me.” The words were exhaled on a
breath and then he was gone. Starlight highlighted the firm line of
his jaw, the shadowy depths of his eyes—eyes that were growing
lighter by the second. Fur bled out over his skin and clothes in a
rush. In the time it took her to blink, Caine slipped from man to
wolf. The same color as the moon, with a black, star-speckled
saddle down his back all the way to the tip of his tail.

He turned his ivory muzzle to the side,
almond-colored eyes the lightest she’d ever seen them, and he
opened his mouth in a wolfish grin. With a twist of his tail, he
was off, bounding into the woods, and Ollie found herself
scrambling to hands and knees before she could even think about
what she was doing.

The dog half came fast and easy. One second
she was floundering to get to her feet and the next, long, gangly
legs ate up the ground as the wolfhound devoured the distance
between her and the running wolf ahead. Once upon a time her kind
had been bred to hunt wolves, rushing along green prairies and
through forests in pursuit of a predator she found beautiful. Caine
stretched out, his muzzle straining forward with each stride. An
answering determination pulsed through Ollie’s veins. She could
catch him.

One stride, then the next, until the distance
between them slowly diminished and she was at his heels, the white
underside of his tail almost within nipping distance. They circled
back, running full out until she thought her lungs would
explode.

But Caine faltered when they broke through
the woods into the rough, weed-tangled field where Claire Rawson
had died.

The scent of blood, death, silver—it all
lingered still. Not even the morning dew had been able to wash it
away. The predicted rainstorm might, but for now it was a
lingering, ever-present reminder of yet another woman she’d
failed.

They’d failed.

Because as much as Ollie shouldered the
blame, she saw the way Caine drew up, suddenly trotting, his head
jerked back against the shock of where they were now. She could
clearly see his sorrow. A whine crawled out of her throat and she
pressed her muzzle to his flank. Sorry.

He shook his head and pulled the wolf back,
slipping back into the lean, muscular body of a man midstride,
turning to look at her. He caught her head in his hand, tilted her
muzzle back so she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “It’s
not just you. She was mine to keep safe, too.”

What he didn’t say, but she heard
nonetheless, was just like Lydia Marks. Ollie shifted, stepping
into his arms as she wove hers around his waist. The guilt was an
easy burden when it didn’t sit on her shoulders alone. “He never
came back to this one. He’s never taken two in one pack. Never
randomly targeted someone who wasn’t a victim. Never left a gift or
notes before.”

Caine sighed and pulled her head against his
shoulder, hands tangled in her wild black curls. “He’s changing.
Evolving.”

“That’s not a good thing.”

“He’s still sticking to his timetable.”

She shook her head. “He picked this one up
way in advance. Two weeks to the moon. Who’s to say she won’t die
early?” No. They couldn’t depend on him repeating his old patterns
at this point. The Hunter was changing the rules, and he didn’t
have to leave her a note to get the message across. You don’t know
me. Not anymore.

Caine’s lips found the hollow of her throat
and he nipped gently, rasping over her skin, drawing a soft,
startled gasp from her. Her body stiffened, completely and utterly
attuned to the man holding her. How he could do with one kiss what
other men hadn’t been able to accomplish with a whole night in bed,
she didn’t know.

It was more than desire or simple arousal. It
was understanding, a deep, empathetic connection. He knew when she
needed comfort, sympathy, or someone to argue back. “No one,” he
murmured. “We’re not him, we don’t get to choose when she dies. We
just have to try to prevent it.”

“You’re not a Hound.”

He laughed, a rich sound, loud in the sudden
stillness of the night. “Hey, if your lioness buddy can be one, I’m
sure I can, too.”

His hands wrapped in her hair, and he pulled
her head back, exposing her throat. Baring his teeth, his eyes met
hers, more wolf than man. Without releasing her gaze, Caine tilted
his head and nipped over her throat again. Her knees trembled. That
was it. Caine made her feel vulnerable, emphasized it with
everything he did, but at the same time, somehow, she felt
stronger. And safe. She trusted him. Implicitly.

He’d forged her trust in the fire of his
gaze, the unyielding inferno that had demanded she tell him, trust
him, have faith in him right from the word go. It was the alpha in
him. The man a whole pack relied on.

She swallowed and Caine grinned, more wolf
than man. The shadows around him were broken only by the slivers of
starlight and the glow of a half moon. “I thought we weren’t going
to talk about the case.”

This time his tongue wet a warm line up her
throat, twirling over her pulse before he laid a kiss over it. His
growl triggered the racing jump of her heart as it picked up speed.
“You started it.”

But even before she’d finished, he was
shaking his head. “It was all over your face, sweetheart. The
guilt, the blame. Do you ever stop blaming yourself for getting
away?”

Ollie didn’t know how to answer that, so she
said nothing. Let him interpret the silence however he wanted,
because whatever he came up with, that was probably closer than
anything she could have brought herself to say out loud. She’d
wanted so badly for Rosalie Myers to live that day. To stop the
Hunter then and there. To have been enough.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? She was
never enough.

Not for any of the men she’d dated, not for
her father, not even as a Hound trying to save just one goddamned
person from this monster. After a while it just started to feel
like one giant self-fulfilling prophecy, where all the things she’d
heard as a child, what the niggling voice in the back of her head
still told her, were true. Good grades, putting herself out there,
and working hard, none of that changed the fact that she still
would never be good enough.

Caine’s eyes narrowed on hers, so intense and
intimate that she wanted to look away, but something in his eyes
wouldn’t allow it. Then his attention turned downwards, to her
lips, her neck, her breasts, and he leaned back to take it all in
without letting her go. His hand tightened in her hair when he
looked back up at her.

“You’re beautiful, you know that?”

The change in topic was jarring, and Ollie
found herself unsure how to respond. Her lips parted but the words
never came. She’d never been beautiful, not even to herself. Caine
leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. “Drop dead, fucking
gorgeous.”

The beat of her heart felt fragile, out of
control. He skimmed one hand over her hips, around the pudgy
fullness of her gut. “I love this, you know.” His smile reached his
eyes, satisfaction gleaming back out with all the brilliance of the
stars above them. “And definitely these.”

Knuckles brushed over her breasts, teasing
small circles around her nipples until she felt them perk,
straining for more, and she whimpered. She started to step into
him, but Caine’s firm hand in her hair held her back, and the
inability to move left her quivering. Caine brushed a kiss against
her mouth, feather light.

“If you’d died that night, I’d never have
gotten to do this.”