She envisioned she was still at home in her own bed with the man in her dreams making wild passionate love with her. His fingers dipped in between her legs, caressing her into climax while she gripped his waist and never wanted to let go.

She felt the earth shift, the bed, the room, the whole world as she reached the peak and shattered with the most riveting ecstasy. Vaguely, she felt his fingers withdraw before he filled her with his arousal, hard and hot and very much ready for action.

But this time he raised her legs over his shoulders for maximum penetration and dove into her with hard, deep, satisfying thrusts, his face dipping to kiss her breast, to lick the nipple, her hands running through his hair as she moaned with satisfaction. He knew how to give her pleasure like she’d never felt before. His lusty gaze shifted to hers. His expression was still dark, and she couldn’t read it now. Before, he’d always been so pleased with her, to see her, to be with her, but now… something was amiss. As if he was tired of playing this game. But he was hers, her dream. He had to be here for her whenever she drifted off to her fantasy world of dreams.

She moaned as he stole her thoughts, brought her rising again on another tidal wave of pleasure, had her grasping for his sinewy arms, and he groaned, pumping into her until he was spent, then collapsed and didn’t move. He was heavy and sweaty and felt protective and manly and wonderful.

He lay there for some time, and at first she thought her dream lover had fallen asleep, but then he lifted his head, sighed, and rolled off her, then pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He kissed the top of her head, caressing her arm with a soft touch. He’d kiss her and caress her and nap and take her again and again all night long, and by morning, he’d be gone, and she’d still miss him. Until the night returned.

She’d started taking naps during the day to manage the nights. But a vaguely ominous worry crept into the dream. She couldn’t shake loose of the feeling that Jake was in danger—and all because of her.

But then something else seized her attention. A sound. Not a key, but… something… like… the sound of a plastic card being slipped between the doorjamb and the door with a hard whooshing, sliding sound.

Like someone was trying to break into her room.

Chapter 10

Alicia was cloaked in the warmth of her dream state, still wrapped in Jake’s arms when he turned to look at the rickety motel-room door that could easily have been shattered with a swift booted kick. His hand froze in midcaress along Alicia’s arm, as if he could recognize that someone was trying to break into her room. Then he set Alicia aside, climbed out of bed, and stalked toward the door like her knight without his armor.

For a second, she didn’t know what to do. Get dressed, her mind shouted at her. Get her gun, do something—before Jake is killed.

Her heart had picked up into a flight-or-fight mode, and the adrenaline was already pouring through her veins. But she couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, only able to stare at him and at the door.

Then she felt her mind awakening. She was still in a dream. Jake wasn’t really here!

Still half-asleep, she tried to break free of the dreamy fog that shrouded her mind. If she didn’t fully wake from the dream, whoever was trying to break into the scuzzy room would be in soon, and she could be in real danger.

Unless… she sighed deeply… that was only part of the dream.

The card scraping between the door and frame sounded louder, more urgent, and she opened her eyes in disbelief. She sat up in bed, pulling completely free of the dream, and found herself alone, but the plastic card continued to jerk up and down in the doorjamb in an attempt to disengage the lock.

Heart pounding as if she was running a race, she quickly considered her options as she thrust her covers aside and got out of bed.

If she turned into the wolf, she could face the would-be intruder with a set of frighteningly wicked canines. He’d most likely believe she was someone’s guard dog. And run like hell. Or she could get her gun, which she was still licensed to carry. But it was in her bag on the other side of the room. She might not be able to shift. She’d never tried to force herself to shift into the wolf, only to shift back into her human form. That knowledge sent a prickle of worry skittering over her skin.

Naked, she sprinted across the room, only to reach her bag when the lock clicked open on the door. Thoroughly immobilized, she shifted her gaze to the doorknob. And prayed her ability to shift would kick in.

To her profound relief, she felt the shift coming on. With heat suffusing every cell, her bones and skin and muscles painlessly melted into what felt like heated taffy—like her grandmother, God rest her soul, had made when she lived with Alicia and her mother.

In the next instant, Alicia was standing as a gray wolf next to a small dresser, her fur fluffed in offensive mode to make her appear larger and more threatening, her ears twitching back and forth, listening for every sound the intruder made, her tail straight out, her eyes focused on the door, her mouth still closed. She backed even farther into the dark corner.

A human couldn’t see her in the lightless room. Not unless light reflected off her eyes. And then? Her eyes could appear to glow yellow, green, or even red, she’d noticed when she’d glanced in a mirror one night and thought, “How cool.”

But she’d never bitten a human before, or a wolf for that matter, and the only notion she had was that she’d snarl and growl and look threatening. If he had a gun, though, would he be all that scared?

Getting shot didn’t appeal. They’d broken Ferdinand’s neck, so she knew she could die in more ways than just by a silver bullet. She laughed at herself over that. Would a silver bullet really kill, or was that strictly fantasy?

She remained quiet and watched, seething that this creep would break into her room. Yet it reminded her of the thugs who’d come to Ferdinand’s apartment, threatened him, and then killed him. Killed the other man he knew, too. If they had known she was there in his apartment, hiding under the bed, she was certain she would have faced the same death.

The door remained closed while her heart pounded pell-mell. What was he waiting for? Was he afraid? Waiting to see if she responded with a phone call to 9-1-1?

She glanced at her phone. Still charging. But if it had a partial charge, she could still use it.

The door opened just a hair, then farther, with no squeaking, no sound, except that she could hear heavy breathing and hearts pounding, both hers and his. He was scared. As much as she hated to admit it, so was she.

The door opened a little wider. A pinprick of illumination poked into the blackness from a flashlight. The lamp on the outside wall appeared to be out. It hadn’t been when she’d checked into her room, so the intruder must have knocked it out and was working virtually blind.

The flashlight’s faint beam was pointed in the direction of the bed, but it didn’t stretch farther than a few inches and so didn’t reach beyond the door, which still shielded her view of the intruder.

With what appeared to be fresh resolve, he moved quickly beyond the door, headed for the bed with flashlight and gun poised. Shit. He was armed and looked like he wanted to play really rough.

Despite the black hoodie hiding his hair and some of his profile, she saw his large hooked nose, and he looked damn familiar. She narrowed her eyes.

The creep that had tried to force her out of the restaurant in Breckenridge before Jake came to her aid. The same one who had been with the man she’d shot on the trail where she’d laid her mother’s memorial wreath. His light flicked over the empty bed, the covers tossed aside. His flashlight swept over the chair where her clothes now lay. Hell. He would know she was still in the room. That she hadn’t gone out to party. Party, right. The town boasted one rickety motel, and the whole place looked to have rolled up the sidewalks hours before sunset.

His gaze shifted to the bathroom. She barely breathed. Not once looking in her direction, he headed slowly for the bathroom.

Had he followed her all the way here from Breckenridge? She wondered if he’d watched her when she arrived at the hotel and then waited until she’d taken her shower, turned out the lights, and climbed into bed. Maybe waited until sufficient time had passed for her to fall asleep. Or had he just located her car and was working blind?

She didn’t think she had enough time to shape-shift and then dress and bolt from the room, start the car, and leave. No, she knew she didn’t have time for all that.

The thought of running out of here in her wolf form terrified her. She wasn’t equipped to deal with the wolf angle in the wild. She didn’t want to leave her car behind or her other possessions. And if she bolted out of here, the thug would discover that Alicia, the woman, wasn’t here and most likely would wait for her to return.

He slid the shower curtain aside with a swift jerk, the metal rings sliding across the metal pole with a scratching sound.

Now he knew for certain she wasn’t in there, and he’d come out, maybe try looking under the bed, or maybe glance in her direction and see her standing here as a wolf, staring him down in the dark.

He’d shoot her, and no one would ever know she’d disappeared, and no one would even care.

She changed her mind and was able to summon the shift again—to her astonishment and guarded relief—before he left the bathroom. Maybe having been a werewolf for seven weeks with a couple of weeklong breaks and then the trouble she’d had with it earlier, like she’d just had to get used to it again, had finally enabled her to get some control over this shape-shifting business.

She grabbed the gun from her purse.

As soon as the pinprick of light headed out of the bathroom and he followed, she wondered if she had made another mistake and should have stayed in her wolf form. Standing naked with only a gun in her hand for defense made her feel horribly vulnerable.

But then again, she could see well in the dark while he couldn’t.

That’s when he must have caught a glimpse of her, and he aimed his weapon with cold-bloodedness. She’d already anticipated his action and moved right before he fired a shot. The round hit the wall behind her, and she fired three times, all three slugs hitting something solid. His only response was a grunt, then he slid down the wall, leaving a trail of blood.