He moved in even closer, wanting to clear his throat to warn them he was here, before he intruded or startled them too much. But all that came out was an alien huffing sound.
"What the hell was that?" Chris said, as all of them began to stand.
"I've got my gun," Matt said, and that's all it took.
Chapter 6
HAVING BEEN SHOT ONCE IN THE LINE OF DUTY WHEN HE WAS on the police force, Cameron didn't need to be reminded how much that hurt, nor did he want to be injured way out here in the middle of nowhere, if Matt or his buddies decided to shoot him.
Cameron whipped around and headed away from the tent the way he had come, following his trail back through the woods, surprised to find his footpads had left a scent for him to track.
Chris exclaimed, "Shit, it was one of them! One of the wolves. Look at all the damned tracks! Break up camp before they come back for us. Hurry!"
The panicked group hurried to strike camp, but Cameron kept running, following his tracks, keeping his paws in his original footsteps so that he could make better time. The tracks looked huge in the snow, like his paws were much larger than they were. Which probably contributed to tales of wolves that existed as gigantic beasts.
He raced on and on, realizing now he'd traveled a distance much greater than he'd first suspected, yet he felt free and wild, not tired and cold as he might have imagined.
After a good long while, he smelled smoke from a wood-burning stove and knew he was getting closer to the cabin resort, when he nearly plowed into a wolf. He stopped on the proverbial dime and stared at the wolf, russet in color, his brown eyes shining in the dark, his expression surprised more than anything. As much as Cameron himself was surprised.
He expected a confrontation, but the red wolf just studied him with interest, sniffed the air, and remained standing in place, not moving an inch in any direction, his ears alert, twitching back and forth. His posture seemed relaxed though, unlike Cameron's. His was stiff, apprehensive, unsure of what would happen next.
He sensed the wolf was an alpha, holding his tail straight out behind him, not tucked, his head held high, not bowed. Cameron was standing in the same manner, waiting to see what the other wolf would do first. He couldn't get over the fact a red wolf would be in the area. Gray maybe, living somewhere in the wilderness. The white wolves, Kintail's, absolutely. But not a red wolf, that he thought was extinct in most areas.
Then the sound of snowmobiles zooming off through the woods from miles away, caught their attention. Chris and his buddies, Cameron suspected. He twisted his head around to look in that direction. When the snowmobiles headed farther away and weren't driving in his direction, he turned back to observe the red wolf, but he was gone, vanished, like a flake of snow against a snowbank.
Cameron looked around, didn't see any sign of the wolf, sampled the air but couldn't get a whiff of him the way the breeze was blowing. He thought about Faith, about the bed, about snuggling, and felt the adrenaline rush begin to drain off, then loped toward the cabin resort.
When he reached her cabin, he stared at the wide open door. For an instant, he worried that someone had broken in. Then he wondered if he was the one who had left the door open. He headed inside and nudged it closed with his nose and paws. Then he jumped on the bed and joined Faith, although he didn't attempt to crawl into the sleeping bag with her. Too much trouble and he was plenty warm enough.
Closing his eyes, the last vague thought he had was he'd experienced one hell of a dream.
Faith snuggled closer to him and sighed. The dreams and Faith's touch finally faded away, but before long Cameron bolted upright in bed and stared at the cabin, the hour still early, his whole psyche turned upside down. Thankfully, Faith's face was cloaked in blissful sleep, and he hadn't awakened her. He swept his hand down her hair, every ounce of his physical being craving her, and yet, now, for some unfathomable reason, another part of him warned she was dangerous and to avoid entanglements with her at all costs.
So why the hell was he wanting to prove she wasn't in the least bit dangerous?
He climbed out of bed and found he didn't have a stitch of clothes on, when he thought he was wearing at least his boxers and jeans when he fell asleep last night. He vaguely remembered Faith carefully removing his parka, shirt, boots, and socks like an angel to his rescue. The braided rugs were wet, too, and he wondered when that had happened. Maybe Faith had spilled water before she retired to bed.
He tugged on a pair of jeans, but didn't bother to secure his leather belt or the top button and zipped them only far enough to keep them on his hips as if he might want to shed the pants any moment, so why fasten them all the way? He walked over to the window and stared out at the bleak white landscape, wondering why he was feeling so unsettled. He wasn't feverish, yet he didn't feel right. But he couldn't pinpoint what was wrong. Cabin fever maybe? Too bad the most vivid, unreal dream he'd ever experienced hadn't resolved the bizarre feelings snowing him over. Yet he kept wondering, what if the dream was true? That he'd really heard the guys in the hot tub outside the cabin last night and incorporated their ramblings into his dreams?
He let out his breath. Nah. Just a case of recalling situations he'd been in earlier in the day or past several days and mixing them up in a dream. Although he couldn't account for why he'd envision a red wolf. Then he recalled watching a program about the ones reintroduced into the wilds of North Carolina a week ago, and saw Wolf with Jack Nicholson the night before last, and then the Howl of the Wolf after that. And then? Cameron dreams he's a wolf?
He shook his head. No way had he turned into a white wolf during the night. After being attacked by the one, and seeing them with Lila, that was the reason for the surreal dream.
Man, he'd had his fill of wolves for a lifetime.
"Are you feeling all right?" Faith asked from bed, her voice silky with sleep.
He didn't look at her. Didn't want to. He hated feeling out of control, out of sorts.
"Much better." Which was the truth, to an extent. His arm did feel better, but his mind was in turmoil.
"What's wrong?" Her voice warned him she under stood him as well as he knew himself.
"Nothing. We're snowed in." He pulled the door open, let in the cold air, some part of him wanting to freeze the unwarranted emotions he was feeling now out of existence.
The snow halfway blocked the entryway except where something had run through it. He stared at the sight, trying to figure out what would have made the impression, and noticed then how wet the braided rug was next to the door. Hell, Faith must have left the cabin sometime during the night despite him telling her not to.
He attempted to see beyond the piled-up snow, but it was stacked too high to observe what had happened clearly.
The box springs squeaked, and then Faith's footsteps padded across the floor. Cameron turned to look at her and couldn't help raising his brows. She was wearing a footed one-piece sleeper contraption covered in white bunnies and pink flowers on a lilac background. Her blond hair appeared tangled from a night of restless sleep, or a lover's tryst. She looked soft and huggable in the chilly room.
Frowning, she hurried toward him. "Are you sure you're all right?"
His gaze shifted to her bunny outfit and the long, lilac zipper that reached from the neckline all the way to the pubic bone. His thoughts instantly switched from running in the wild, to pulling that zipper down as far as it would go. "Plenty of food and firewood. We'll stay warm enough."
The craving to be with her overriding the urge to leave, he shut the door and locked it.
She reached out and touched his hand. "What about your wound? We need to get it checked out."
"Feels good as new." His voice had already taken on a husky tone, and he sifted his fingers through her silky hair, wanting to feel every inch of her, to breathe in her scent, to taste her. Already, he seemed to sense more—her own interest in him—but it wasn't the expression on her face. She looked worried, not sexually ready. But it was her scent that indicated she was interested. A subtle change in the way she smelled was all it took to make him want her even more. As if the scent was a trigger of acceptance and willingness.
Not to be thwarted in her concern for him, she said, "It's still really dark in here. How can you see anything?" She turned on a gas lamp, then examined his exposed skin, her lips parting slightly, looking damned kissable.
As much as he hated to admit weakness, he explained what had been bothering him.. "I felt I needed to get out of here."
"Maybe it's cabin fever." Her eyes took in his naked torso, shifting downward to his pants, only partially zipped. Her gaze shot back up to his, but he didn't think she was shocked as much as intrigued. She touched his shoulder in a reassuring way, her fingertips leaving a streak of heat behind, then ran her hand down his arm until she reached his fingers and took hold. "I've been snowed in for a few days, but it doesn't bother me. Maybe we can play games or something."
"Or something." Despite his brain warning him to keep his distance, he wanted to kiss her and much more. He settled his hands on her shoulders, his thumbs caressing them in little circles, his gaze focused on that sensuous mouth of hers, curved up slightly.
Every nerve ending was attuned to the way she felt, the soft fuzzy fabric of her pajamas, the curve of her shoulders, the swell of her breasts rising and falling with every breath, even her nipples protruding, begging to be fondled, and the way she relaxed under his touch as if she savored his strokes as much as he did stroking her. She tucked her hair behind her ear, the motion surprisingly sensual. Nibbling her creamy earlobe came to mind. His libido ratcheted up another notch.
"I promised I'd keep you in bed longer this morning," he said, his voice deep and raspy as he swept his hands down her arms to her fingers. He lifted one of her hands to his lips and kissed the top of her hand, and then with the same kind of appreciation, the other, her skin delicate like peach velvet.
She smiled coyly, her green eyes narrowed a bit. "Are you sure you're all right?" Her voice was husky with need, too, and he smiled with the knowledge.