I be afraid?”
“Not tonight.”
“Then yes, I’ll drive you to the compound, if that’s all right with you,” he said.
“Do I have a choice in the matter?”
“I suppose you can do whatever the hell you want, though the invitation to be our guest stands,” he replied.
She watched the tall Were brush sand from the hem of his jeans. In the moonlight, his bare shoulders appeared to be perfectly sculpted. She allowed her gaze to linger there.
“One thing, though,” he said, glancing up. He held out his hand, offering her the damp shirt he had removed before wading into the water after her. “Nakedness won’t do if we meet anyone else on the way to the car. This is the best I can come up with unless you remember where you left your own clothes.”
Cara glanced up the beach. “I came from that way.”
He nodded. “Maybe you can wear the shirt until we find your stuff.”
If she followed his suggestion, she would have to take the shirt from his hand...the same hand that had touched her and given her the first real thrill she could remember. She wasn’t sure she wanted another one. She was fiercely aware of his body, and the fire in his eyes held her strangely captive.
She took another step, then paused. The Were’s scent saturated the shirt he held out to her, overwhelming her senses.
Seeming to understand her reticence, he closed the distance and stopped an arm’s length away from her with the shirt dangling from his fingers. It was a dare. A challenge. She took the shirt and held her breath as she slipped it on. The musky fragrance embedded in the fabric surrounded her body like a cloud until she could barely smell anything else.
“Better,” the Were said. “Now let’s get the rest of you covered up, shall we?”
Cara only then dared to take a deep breath.
“You have to understand that my family is personally responsible for your safety while you’re in Miami,” he said. “That was the pact we made, and pacts must be honored. I’m guessing there would be hell to pay if we don’t keep you in our sights.”
The shirt was soft, well-worn, and the same color blue as Rafe Landau’s eyes. Cara liked those details, and she liked looking at Rafe. He was a fine male of the Were species, she supposed. But the way she felt around him was disturbing.
“What if I asked you to postpone the inevitable for a while longer?” she asked.
He said, “I thought you already did.”
“Your pack thinks I’m a freak.”
“Then you can prove them wrong.”
“How do you know I’d be able to do that?”
“Call it a hunch,” he replied.
Cara blinked slowly. Like her, Rafe was quick to make judgments. But that didn’t mean he was right.
“It’s just a feeling I have,” he explained.
“You don’t know me.”
He shrugged those fascinating bare shoulders. “We can walk along the shore to get your clothes. I like the sand. Moonlight makes it sparkle.”
Cara expected him to say more. He had to have questions.
“Maybe we can come back here sometime after you settle in,” he said. “Would you like that, Cara?”
Hearing a stranger say her name gave her a jolt of pleasure that she tried to ignore. She wasn’t experienced in the nuances of male-female relationships, though she wanted to learn. And she could do worse than having this handsome, understanding Were as a teacher.
Rafe Landau didn’t know her, though. Not really. Not at all.
So what would he think when he found out her secrets?
* * *
The time it took for them to reach the spot where Cara had left her clothes was too short for Rafe’s liking.
With Cara dressed only in his shirt, which hung a little below her hips, the whole situation felt too intimate. They weren’t lovers out here to enjoy the moonlight. He had become her guard—and her jailer, to hear her tell it. Still, having this rare and beautiful creature beside him made Rafe feel oddly content.
He had to wonder about the hidden dangers Cara represented. Her father had achieved legendary status among those of Rafe’s pack. Her mother was only mentioned now and then in whispers. What kind of life could Cara possibly have had with a family like that?
“Are you much like your mother?” he asked, undeterred by the probable insensitivity of the question.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Are you afraid of being like her?”
She glanced at him as they walked. “Sometimes.”
“Would your family have sent you here if they had suspected trouble for you among us?”
She shook her head. “Only at home can I truly be free.”
Rafe said, “I believe... I hope...you’ll find that doesn’t have to be the case, and that you’ll make friends here.”
The desire to see her face up close and in better light had become an urgent necessity. Rafe wanted to get to know every line and curve of her body. Cara might be dangerous, but she looked so fragile and delicious in his shirt.
Maybe fragile wasn’t the right word.
If Cara was anything like her mother, formidable was more like it. Rumor had it that Rosalind Kirk could shape-shift into many different forms any time she wanted to and that few enemies could stand against her. Nevertheless, if Cara was like her mother, and not entirely wolf, why did his wolf recognize hers? And why didn’t he sense any animosity in her?
“I won’t be here long. Surely you know that I can’t live among you,” she said, acknowledging his thoughts as if he had shared them with her.
“How do you know you can’t be happy here?” he asked. “At least you can give us a try.”
She gave the ocean a long look and said, “I have promised to try.”
Cara’s feet seemed to skim the sand. She was incredibly beautiful. Stunningly so. Yet there was no mistaking the powerful aura that surrounded Cara like her own personal fog. Rafe could only imagine how she might use that power if she wanted to.
Despite that, it took all of his willpower to keep his hands to himself. He wanted badly to console Cara, to reassure her that her visit would go well. He knew he was lying to himself about the possibility that she wouldn’t want to leave when the time came. For the moment, he tried to stick to the story that they could be friends, though that too was revealed as a falsehood each time Cara leaned into the wind and his shirt clung to the outlines of her sleek, wet body.
When she stopped, he stopped with her. She turned to face him, and his pulse sped up. Moonlight hugged her face, showing Rafe all the details he had been hoping to see. He held his breath.
She had high cheekbones and a wide brow. Though she was lean, her full lips lent her a softness that was lacking in her attitude. Her neck was long and graceful, her skin a smooth, unblemished ivory. Large eyes, framed by dark lashes, dominated her other features. Those eyes were a bright Lycan green.
She took a step, bringing her close enough for Rafe to feel her breath on his face. She said suddenly, in a hoarse, velvety whisper, “It’s you, isn’t it?”
Then she waited in silence as if daring Rafe to find meaning in those words.
She