The woman— Myra, she’d told him her name was Myra—was moving around in the cabin, but she didn’t come close to the bathroom door.
Rage and fear teased him but he forced them away, forced his muscles to relax. He needed better control before confronting her. Either he’d attack and kill her, or she’d put him down again. Neither option was something he was willing to let happen, so he’d stay in the shower a while and hope he could get hold of himself.
Control. They’d taken it from him, turned him into an animal, but he’d escaped. And he’d vowed he would never allow himself to lose it again, either to another person or to the beast inside. In the early days, after turning, after escaping, he’d had plans for how he’d kill himself if he thought he was losing control. He’d run as far away from civilization as he could manage. Avoided all people for a time before he’d trusted himself to make limited forays into the populated world. Until he’d trusted himself enough to keep control.
For years now, it hadn’t been a big concern. Had he become complacent? So sure he’d created a life where he could manage the beast that he’d somehow let it slip, let it slowly take over?
When he heard the front door close, he turned off the water. Straining his ears, he could detect no sound or movement in the cabin. Exhausted, he carelessly swiped a towel over his body, rubbed his hair briskly, then wrapped it around his hips. He wasn’t surprised to find the cabin empty. But hewassurprised to find the bed remade with fresh sheets.
Most likely he should be upset. Furious and territorial. Right now, he could barely manage to remain upright. He felt like he’d been asleep for a month and needed another week. He knew it hadn’t been long, only because his stubble wasn’t that bad. He glanced out the window and saw it was full dark. All day then. Well, he’d been completely at her mercy for hours, and so far as he could tell, she’d only fed him and cleaned up after him. Still, it didn’t change the fact that she’d had complete control over him. And still could.
He made himself go to the kitchen, pull out the cold cuts. Though he didn’t quite have the energy to make a sandwich, he forced himself to eat the whole package of meat. A hungry werewolf was not a great idea. He’d been hungry the first time he’d turned. Ravenous. They hadn’t fed him for the day and a half he’d been held captive, before the full moon. So he’d already been hungry and hurt. He’d never really be sure how long he’d been a beast before he came back to himself, the remains of a deer at his feet.
Flashes from that night had haunted his dreams for a long time, visions of his attackers stumbling back from his enraged wolf, of the blood that had coated him when he’d finally stopped long enough to take a look. How much of it was from the freaks who’d abducted him and how much was from the deer, he was careful not to consider.
Pulling the sheets back, he dropped the towel and climbed into bed. He should fight. He should run. There were plenty of forests in the United States. No reason he had to stay here. Every reason to leave. He rubbed at his gritty eyes and tried to figure out what the best plan was.
The scent of something sweet and tantalizing drew Adam from sleep again. Before he’d figured out what it was, or recognized that someone else was in the room with him, a hand touched his shoulder and he reacted.
He grabbed the hand and rolled his body, knocking the intruder to the ground and covering her body with his. She made a slight sound of pain or surprise, and he froze. Somewhere in the midst of the fall, he’d realized who it was. Had he hurt her? Had she been about to hurt him? She’d been helping him, he reminded himself.
Underneath him, she was soft and still, not fighting back. He met her clear brown gaze. She wasn’t afraid. That was good, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to scare her, he just didn’t want her to hurt him. Control him. He tried to take a deep breath to clear his head—and realized his mistake when her scent filled him. Sweet and clean and hot. Jesus. His dick came to attention and he buried his nose in her hair, gave a tiny lick to her neck.
Taste exploded on his tongue. Unable to resist, he traced the line of her jaw until he reached her chin, gave it a quick nip, then found her lips. He traced them, as well, though she opened for him immediately. She lifted her head, trying to draw him in, but he made her wait. Her hands came up to his shoulders and pulled him closer. Her body under his was warm and compliant, making him want—
He froze. Compliant?
Blinking away the lust he’d let rule his mind, he forced himself to concentrate. Pulling back, he stared at her. Her body tightened, but only for a second, before she relaxed again. She met his gaze and he waited for her to do something. To overpower him, physically or mentally, he was ready for either. But she didn’t move, just stared at him softly.
This wasn’t right. She wasn’t being submissive. Wasn’t lowering her gaze or giving him her throat. But neither was she demanding he do the same. Hell, she wasn’t even demanding he get off her body. The mental puzzle was enough to pull him back from his instincts. The ones that had started off defensive and leapt into lustful. Damn, he’d only ever worried about rage controlling him, never lust.
He moved off her slowly, not backing down, but giving them both space. Crouched a few feet from her, he waited. She sat up carefully, keeping eye contact.
“Hello, Adam. You’re looking much better.” She tugged her shirt down from where it had ridden up slightly, and he had to fight not to follow the motion with his eyes.
“Myra.”
She nodded. “I wasn’t sure how much you’d remember.”
He gestured to the couch and she smiled and broke eye contact. His senses on high alert, he gave her his back, going to the dresser for sweatpants while she took a seat. When he turned, she’d made herself comfortable, curling her bare feet up on the cushions beneath her thighs, her weight leaning on the couch arm. Not in any way defensive. Was she so sure he wouldn’t attack? Or so sure she’d easily be able to stop him if he did?
He couldn’t stop the low growl that rumbled from his throat, which brought a wary look to her face. Maybe she wasn’t as carefree as she was making out.
“Would you like me to leave?” she asked. “You could come meet me at Michael’s house, or somewhere more neutral. We do need to talk, but I’m not here to cause you any trouble.”
He shouldn’t need the reminder that something was going on, something he needed to deal with. He wasn’t going to hide from the problem, even if it meant working with people and situations that made him uncomfortable. Unless…could the woman and Michael be the ones who were responsible for the sick wolves? There was one simple way of knowing for sure, and that was asking Michael. He was more powerful than the alpha. But now he was afraid. Afraid the woman was more powerful thanhewas, and could force him to…what? Or had she only been stronger than him because he’d been sick?
He focused his attentions on her without meeting her eyes. She would most likely know what he was doing, but she wasn’t worried. It only took a minute to decide, yes, she was more powerful than he was. But not hugely so. He wasn’t sure what that really meant. Could she force him to do something he really didn’t want to do when he wasn’t out of his head?
He was being an idiot. Being more powerful than someone else didn’t automatically make you evil. He’d never forced his will on another wolf. In fact, other than the incident in Arizona, he’d never seen it done when it hadn’t been necessary. Like an alpha helping a younger wolf maintain control. And he had to admit, that was what the woman, Myra, had done. Helped him keep from attacking.
He shook his head and got up to start a pot of coffee. He had been out of control, not because of Michael and the woman, but because of whatever was going on in the woods. He knew that, but still, she made him wary.
She didn’t react to his abrupt movement to the kitchen area, didn’t pester him for an answer. She seemed content to wait him out and by the time he had two mugs of coffee, he was calmer.
He brought the coffee to her, despite certain instincts telling him not to get that close. She reached for the mug he offered with a dazzling smile. “Thank you so much.” His answering grunt wasn’t his finest moment, but she didn’t seem too bothered by it. He sat in the chair and took a deep breath.
“What happened to me? What’s happening in the woods?”
