“You’ll be fine, Uncle,” Zephyr said, with what Buck thought was entirely unwarranted optimism. “The senior staff run most of the activities. You just have to supervise your pack, and make sure the kids stay safe and have fun. And you won’t be on your own. You’ll have your co-counselor to support you. I’ve already got someone in mind.”
“Someone you seriously dislike?” Conleth murmured.
“I’ll pair you up with someone who’ll complement your strengths,” Zephyr continued, ignoring his business partner. “Don’t worry, she’ll be at your side practically every minute of the day. I’m certain you’ll make an excellent team. One moment, I’ll ask Leonie if she’s arrived yet.”
Buck opened his mouth to object, but Zephyr’s gaze had already unfocused. The back of Buck’s neck prickled. He didn’t hear anything, yet he still had the scratchy, unnerving sensation of distant voices, like the muffled sound of a radio playing in another room. If he concentrated, he could almost make out words…
Buck set his jaw, focusing on thetap-tap-tapof Conleth’s typing instead. Motherloving shifters. Why couldn’t they just send each other text messages, like nature intended?
Zephyr smiled, returning from his telepathic communion. He rose to his feet as the door opened. “Ah, excellent timing. Here she is now. Buck, I’d like you to meet…”
His mouth kept moving, but no words emerged. Or maybe they did. Buck had no idea, because at that moment a woman came in, and the whole world fell away.
She was the taste of smoke in the air; the shift in the wind before a storm. Every nerve in his body came instantly, electrifyingly alive. Adrenaline flooded through his veins; that familiar, addictive rush, which he’d thought he’d never feel again.
Which was damn bizarre, since the woman could not have looked less like a wildfire. She was all softness and curves, with a face shaped by smiles. Brown hair, probably. Buck couldn’t be sure, because he couldn’t lift his gaze that far. It would have been easier to reach into his chest and rip out his own beating heart than to tear himself away from her eyes.
Hereyes.
Buck been caught in a firestorm once, cut off from his crew and any chance of escape. He’d huddled under the flimsy protection of a fire shelter, choking on ash and smoke, while the inferno raged around him. He’d felt his hair scorch down to his scalp and his jacket melt into his skin.
That had been nothing compared to the heat that consumed him now.
Even from across the room, her warmth burned against his skin. Here at last was a fire he could not fight, that he did not want to fight, that charred his bones and turned him into a blazing pyre of hunger and need. He wanted to plunge into her, holding nothing back. To take and taste and give and have.
She was light and life and sex. She was home and heat and need. She was—
“Ohhellno,” Buck breathed.
She was his motherloving mate.
CHAPTER4
Oh thank God,was Honey’s first thought, immediately followed by:Oh, myGod.
She’d been braced for the worst. Having seen the crowd of other counselors, she’d expected to be saddled with someone less than half her age. Some nice, fresh-faced boy still in college, who would look at her as if she’d just risen from a crypt.
This man was definitely not a boy.
Nicewas also not a word that applied.Nicewas sunshine and daisies and fresh-baked cookies.Nicewould take one look at this man and run screaming in the other direction.
His hair had probably been dark once. Now it was iron gray, brushed back with the impatience of a man whose only requirement for a successful haircut was ‘shorter.’ From his tanned skin and the deep lines across his forehead, he’d spent most of his time outside, and also pissed off. An impressive nose gave him a distinct resemblance to a brooding eagle; remote, majestic, and fully capable of ripping a limb from anyone who dared get too close.
That dominating nose had clearly been broken at least twice, and each time reset by someone with limited patience and total indifference to esthetics. Honey could only assume he’d been injured in a truly unfortunate number of natural disasters. It was impossible to imagine anyone daring to fight this man, let alone landing a punch. He had resting headbutt-you-in-the-face face. Full grown bears would keep a respectful distance.Avalancheswould detour around him.
It was more than the breadth of his shoulders; the obvious strength in his compact, muscled body. Sheer masculine energy boiled off him like heat from a griddle. He utterly dominated every inch of space around him. He wasn’t tall—only a little above her own height—but hefelttall, impossibly tall, like a mountain crammed into a t-shirt and jeans. Even from across the room, his electric presence crackled against her skin.
He had the blackest eyes she’d ever seen, the irises so dark they almost merged with his pupils. And now those eyes were fixed on her, as though nothing else existed in the entire world.
It was like catching the attention of a tornado, or a thunderstorm. Honey couldn’t breathe, pinned by that intent focus. And he wasn’t looking at her with horror, or as though she must be some kind of bad joke.
No one had ever looked at her like this man. Not even her ex-husband.Especiallynot her ex-husband. If he had, they’d still be married.
You,those black-on-black eyes said, as they stripped her to the skin and shoved her against the nearest wall.Only you. Only ever you. Where have you been all my life?
Heat roared through her in answer. She’d never felt such instant, overwhelming attraction. If he had made a move to sweep her up in his arms, she honestly might have hooked her legs around him then and there, without an ounce of hesitation or shame.
Instead, he flinched—actually flinched, as if she was the dangerous one. His face locked down in a deep scowl.
