Now that they were up close and personal, Riehl found Alice Clark such a wee little thing, he could almost pick her up and put her in his pocket. He rubbed her slender back as she huddled against him. For some reason his heart had decided to do a jackhammer tempo. The wolf in him growled as she trembled, but he kept a stern hold on his beast. Now was not the time to go all Cujo on anybody and run the risk of freaking her out even further. But he angled his head and bared his teeth in silent warning as the two uniforms stepped out of the police car and approached a little too close.
The male uniform held up his hands in a placating gesture. The female narrowed her eyes on him and said deliberately, “Ms. Clark, do you need anything else from us?”
Riehl’s snarl deepened as Alice’s arms fell away from his waist. She would have turned away from him too except he refused to let her go. She turned her head instead. Her wild, adorable, gold-tipped corkscrew curls tickled his chin, and he wanted to rub his face all over her as she said, “No. Thank you for everything.”
“You’re welcome,” said the female. She gave him an extra glare before turning away with her partner as they went back to their shift.
Alice tilted her head to look up at him. He assessed her strained expression. Thin, gold, wire-rim glasses framed large hazel eyes, brilliant with flecks of blue and green, against cocoa-and-cream skin so lustrous it made his mouth water with the urge to lick her everywhere. Her delicate, somewhat ascetic features were smudged with tearstains and lingering traces of fear. Standing out in the frigid cold, her shivering had increased.
Those beautiful eyes of hers were stark with too much emotion and remembered horror. He came to another one of his quick decisions and told her, “I’m taking you home.”
Surprise bloomed like an unfurling flower in her tense, closed-down face. She asked, “You’re not going to question me?”
“Yes, but you’ve been through one hell of a shock. Anything we have to say to each other can be done in the comfort of your own place,” he said.
He put an arm around her shoulders and steered her toward his vehicle, a black, unmarked, late-model Jeep Cherokee. She didn’t protest but moved at his side like an automaton. He unlocked the doors with the key fob and opened the passenger door for her. Once she was settled, he moved swiftly around to the driver’s side.
With a quick sidelong glance, he made sure she had fastened her seat belt before starting the Jeep and pulling out. He could feel through the steering wheel how treacherously slick the road had become. The engine was still warm, so he turned the heater on full blast for her. If he had been by himself, he wouldn’t have bothered. In most instances, he generated enough body heat for his own comfort.
Riehl had come to realize just how used he had gotten to roughing it since he had taken the new job. A recruit at age twenty, he had been in the army for longer than most human life spans. His wolf was still not comfortable with the decision to retire. Whenever he was in compact living quarters like the vic’s—like Haley Moore’s place—he often felt as if he might knock things over if he moved too quickly.
In fact, these last several months he had been entertaining serious doubts about his decision to leave army life and settle in the city. He hadn’t been sure he could make the adjustment. The wolf had been satisfied with a roaming lifestyle, and the army had given him the sense of pack that he needed. It was the man who had gotten restless and decided it was time to make a change, but the restlessness hadn’t subsided when he had relocated and changed jobs.
In fact, it hadn’t subsided until just now.
He sent another thoughtful sidelong glance at his passenger. The storm was really dumping it outside, and white snowflakes had caught in her hair. They were melting in the warmth of the car. The remaining moisture sparkled on her like a net of tiny jewels. The line of her profile was sad, even stern, her delicate mouth straight and unsmiling. She was grieving, and he was the hind end of a donkey because he couldn’t stop staring at her, and all he could think about was what it might take for him to get her naked.
He felt it again, the shift of the world’s axis, the conviction that true north had moved and nothing would ever be the same again.