Her feet slipped. She regained her balance, slowing her pace. There was only a foot to go. She could peer down into the darkness.
The ground moved away, and a strong hand grabbed her, flinging her back to the bench. She hit hard, the breath whooshing from her lungs. Her eyes widened.
A man stood between her and the cliff, the fog swirling around his legs, his eyes a devastating metallic gray.
She struggled to breathe, unsure if it was the impact or the vision that stole her breath.
He settled his stance, his chin lowering. Dark hair fell to his shoulders in waves. His bone structure was masculine and rugged, yet sharp and somehow dangerous-looking. He stood at least six and a half feet tall, and his body was one long line of muscle. Power emanated from him and glittered in those impossible gray eyes. “Do not.” When he spoke, his voice was a guttural rumble.
She couldn’t move.
For the longest time, she could do nothing but stare at him. Then he slowly faded away.
For days, for months, for years, she’d convinced herself that she’d fallen asleep on the bench. Now, holding Garrett, she wasn’t certain. He was exactly the image she’d seen that night. How was it possible? That was the true reason she’d agreed to accompany him on this glorious trip. While she craved adventure and a sense of life, it was that dream that had her pressing her palms against his rock-hard and surprisingly warm abdomen.
If it was a dream.
She was shaken out of her memories as he pulled into a small camping area with the rest of the riders. They all cut their engines, and the silence pounded in her head. Reluctantly, she released him and pulled off her helmet.
“You’ll be sore.” He reached back and helped her off the bike, holding her arm until she gained her balance.
Her butt and thighs ached. “I am.” Then she looked around at the myriad of picnic tables, and her stomach rumbled.
He swung off the bike with a catlike grace, standing so tall he blocked the entire camp from her view. “We’ll stop here for a quick dinner and get back on the road so we can make camp before it’s too late.” His gaze was veiled, his tone mild.
For some reason, she shivered. If the man in her dream wasn’t real, then she’d just driven to the middle of nowhere with a broad and muscled man she didn’t know. At all.
What had she been thinking?
* * * *
The drive to the campground had been pure torture with the tiny human all but wrapped around him. Garrett gently took Dessie’s hand and led her to a picnic table near an outcropping of rocks. The wind rustled fall bushes with surprisingly full red flowers. “We’ll eat here.” He had to get away from her, if only for a few minutes. His abdomen remained heated, as if he could feel her small hands still pressed against him.
She swallowed and looked around.
Honor rescued her. “The outhouses are this way.” She tucked her arm through Dessie’s, and they made their way along the rocks toward wooden outbuildings.
Sam tossed riding gloves on the table, but there was no heat in his tone as he said, “What are you thinking?” His thick hair ruffled in the light breeze.
“I don’t know.” Garrett scouted the entire area, looking for threats. “There’s something about her I can’t figure out.”
Sam’s gaze flicked around as well, and then he settled, sitting on the bench. “You might have to be a little more firm in questioning her. I know—giving her an orgasm and then making sure your mark has a safe helmet is one way to go. Perhaps you’d like to continue and wrap her up in a blanket and snuggle her to sleep? Read her a bedtime story?”
“Shut up,” Garrett said, also without heat.
Sam lifted sandwiches out of a cooler.
“Uncle Garrett!” a small child yelled, running full force toward him from the parking area, her hair flying in the breeze.
He crouched and patiently waited until she smashed into him, catching her arms at the last second so she wouldn’t be hurt. Then he lifted, spun her around, and settled her at his hip. “How was the ride, Lyssa?”
Her curly hair was a combination of wild colors down her back, mostly dark brown with all sorts of natural highlights. Her eyes were a violet-blue, and her features fragile. Her bottom lip pouted out. “The movie quitted. We only got to watch Little Kittythreetimes.” It figured her brothers had let her choose the movie. Although three times had been pushing it.
Garrett watched the other toddlers make their way toward him. The three-year-olds were triplets, their parents a witch and a grizzly bear shifter who had some dragon blood in him. Immortals could have lineages from different species, but their inherent nature could only be of one. Lyssa was all witch, like her mother. “Here come your brothers.”
She turned to watch them. “Tack brung my kitty.”
“He did.” Garrett watched the shaggy-haired boy trudge along, kicking every rock on the way but being careful of the stuffed animal. He was his father’s son, all bear shifter. Stocky and strong already.
