His lips curved up at the corners. “Maybe this isn’t a dream.”
She sighed and pressed his hand to her naked breasts. “Nope. Pretty sure it’s a dream. Things this good don’t happen to me in real life. Just the bad stuff.”
Something flashed through his stormy eyes, something sad and hard, like maybe he understood the harshness of life.
She smoothed her hand against his cheek. She wanted to memorize every contour of his face before she woke. He turned his face toward her palm and inhaled.
He reached for her, cupping her face and bringing her down to meet his mouth. She moaned as his tongue teased hers. She melted against him, pressing every inch of her body into his.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Beau’s voice rained down on her like a bucket of ice.
She bolted upright and covered her breasts with her hand.
Beau stood in the doorway, his coat shedding snowflakes like a long-haired lab, his face twisted in a mixture of disbelief and horror.
If this was a dream, then why did she suddenly feel like a teenager being caught kissing a boy behind the bleachers?
She opened her mouth to defend herself, to ask what the hell Beau was doing in her dream.
“Where’s the wolf?” Beau addressed her but kept his glare on Braxton. “And who the hell is this?”
A growl erupted from underneath her. She looked down at Braxton.
His lips curled over his teeth, glinting dangerously as he pulled her close and glared at Beau. Braxton snagged the sheet and pulled it over her naked back.
Her stomach plummeted as she squeezed her eyes tight. “Beau, tell me this is a dream. Tell me this isn’t really happening.”
“Which part? That I walked in on you? Or that you were about to molest my patient?”
Her eyes popped open and the blood drained from her face. “Your patient? You know him?”
Beau gave her a hard look, his lips pressed into an angry line. “Yeah. I dug that bullet out of his hide less than an hour ago.”
Her head swam as she tried to make sense of Beau’s words. She looked down at Braxton. “But, that would…”
Braxton held her gaze. “That would make me a werewolf.”
***
Brutus shook the snow off his massive shoulders and cast a frustrated look around the log cabin that he’d managed to secure on short notice. The house was private and rested in the middle of nowhere, on the border of Missouri and Arkansas. They needed a place to set up base while they located their fugitive.
“Where’s Killian?” Brutus turned his attention to Lorcan, who was scouring the fridge once again. The werewolf could eat half a side of beef and be hungry thirty minutes later.
Lorcan tossed him a beer from the fridge in the kitchen. Brutus caught the bottle one-handed. “He’s in the shower. We scoured the whole city of Branson and there’s been no sign of the fugitive.”
Brutus took a long pull from the icy bottle, letting the liquid soothe his parched throat. “I’ve run the whole length of the area where we saw him go off the cliff. There’s no body. Any prints he might have left are covered by this fucking blizzard. Snow’s covered any scent I might have picked up as well.” They lived in the South where it never snowed. Just his luck mother nature started mind-fucking him with the weather.
“So, what’s the plan?” Lorcan leaned against the doorway, stuck a hand in his jeans pocket, and took a drink from his beer. “If we can’t find him, do we go home?”
“Have we ever gone home with an unfinished job?” Brutus held Lorcan’s gaze and curled his fingers into fists. No fucking rogue wolf had ever gotten the better of him. Not ever.
Lorcan slowly grinned, his white teeth glinting under the low lighting. “No.”
“Quitting is for pussies.” Brutus stomped to the large picture window and glared out into the dark winter night. He didn’t have the patience to wait. It wasn’t in his DNA. He was made for tracking and killing. That’s what made him an excellent Assassin. This time he was going to have to change up his method of attack.
“So what’s the plan, Boss?” Lorcan’s voice echoed through the room.
“We wait and watch for him to fuck up. With someone as volatile as Braxton, it won’t be long until he makes trouble. When he does, we’ll be there. I’ve got a silver bullet with his name on it.” He turned and faced Lorcan. “And I never waste a bullet.”
***
Damon Trahan slid out of bed, trying his best not to wake his slumbering mate, Ava. He’d spent the night explaining to her the assignment Barrett had put him on and why he was leaving at dawn. Assignment or not, he didn’t like leaving his woman. As fucked up as it sounded, Ava was the air he breathed. Since they’d mated a few months back, he’d yet to spend a night without her.
But he was a Guardian, sworn to protect Arkansas territory. No matter how shitty he felt about leaving Ava, he knew he had to do his job.