But he’d never reacted to any woman with such intensity. To any female. His experience might have been somewhat limited to the more daring Black Hills wolfettes before he turned eighteen, or the easy pickings at the Graymarket Trading Company Saloon and Casino in town, but Calhoun Seven’s ladies were extremely skilled and talented—and knew exactly what to do to get a male hot and fevered. And yet…he’d never been on fire like this, flames licking into every one of his cells, turning his groin into a blazing inferno.
Within him, his beast nearly burst out of his skin, almost forcing a shift to fanged and hairy. The growl filled his chest, vibrated low in his throat. The wolf wants what the wolf wants. Somehow Dog had known, had led him down here to this place. Ready to pounce. Ready to claim. Ready to own.
“Down, boy,” he muttered. “You can’t have her. She’s mine.” He shook his head, poleaxed by the wave of fierce possession that hit him. “And how the hell did you even know?”
The wolf recognized her. Sensed her? Scented her? Sniffed and audited the blasts of fierce pheromones sent over the airwaves by Radio Free 1-800-Mate before he’d even laid his human eyes on her or caught her sensual moss and berry scent. That’s what the pacing, the edginess…the agitated anticipation…had been all about.
He’d never seen this female before. But…he knew her. Somehow he knew her. Her scent socked him again, at once woodsy, crisp, and sweet.
With a sudden burst of clarity that launched him straight into zero gravity amazeballs territory, he saw her soaring over his head, her silhouette a slash of ebony against the daytime sky. Keeping pace with him at midnight when he raced beneath the fullness of the moon. Lobbing walnuts at him in jest. Or when she rescued him from an abyss of despair by tossing shiny gifts onto his porch. His raven. His….
Annabel Lee.
She paused—froze more like—one graceful arm raised above her head as she washed herself. Her other arm bent, her elbow bobbing up, back, around and he imagined the slow, almost caressing circular motion of her hand in the place where her tits would be. Stroking, stroking. Beyond bathing. He shut his eyes, nearly groaning, envisioning the slick, plump flesh beneath her fingers as she teased her nipples to aroused, erect points.
Had he said the name out loud? Had she heard him?
No question she knew he watched her. An imbecile suddenly struck dumb and brainless. Unable to move except for the cock whipping to attention and saluting against the tight confines of his jeans.
Usually, when other shifters were around, members of the Black Hills pack especially, their thoughts, their conversations, bombarded him. The t’ai chi techniques Gee had taught him had helped with that, as he’d proven to himself with his excursions into Shady Heart. But as he gazed at the graceful sway of the female’s back…he heard…nothing. Nothing at all. Not even a murmur. Silence far beyond the muted vibe he got off Gee, when the ancient werebear imparted his rare words of wisdom. This took him into deep and profound country, a restful well of peace that Bengay-balmed his psyche, a set of earmuffs for his clanging nerves.
Was she human then? He didn’t get as chaotic a read with humans as he did with weres, their voices mere whispers, the buzz of mosquitos. No visions of their deaths to haunt him.
But this female…. Blessed stillness enveloped him. Soothed the savagery once so ready to erupt, that he’d forced into submission only through a decade of solitary living in the woods, and long hours of t’ai chi training that channeled his innate ferocious tendencies. Tendencies that nevertheless always lurked below the surface.
He shut his eyes, breathing her in.
“Brick.”
He snapped his eyes open again. The harsh, blunt, one-word syllable of his name fell from her lips, soft and lilting like a song, producing a magical effect on him. Calming. Sweet music played in his brain like a movie score, her unique theme, swelling when she came onscreen. But the soundtrack remained hushed. Quiet. He did not hear her inner thoughts. Tranquility bathed him. But did nothing to tamp down his sexual excitement.
He was still aroused, maybe more so. He wanted her. Badly. The wolf paced with anticipation. Would bite through the leash of Brick’s tight control to get at her if he let him. They both wanted her.
“Turn around, Annabel Lee. Let me see you.”
She did not move, except to lower her raised arm from its frozen position. “Why do you call me that…? Annabel Lee?”
“I don’t have another name.”
“Summer,” she said. “I’m Summer.”
Yeah. Def. When the berries plumped sweetest. “Suits you.” His raging arousal made the words hoarse and jagged. Too harsh for this gentle female. “Turn,” he murmured. “I want to see your face.” A low growl escaped him before he could bite it back. “Your breasts.”
She turned then, slowly through the water, rounding to face him.