Author: J.D. Tyler

He studied her, the silence stretching out. "That's it? After months of watching you grieve, I get the short version?"

"Dean..."

"What was this facility where he was being held?"

What to say? "It's one of many places where someone pretty well-known is conducting illegal human experiments."

"Human?"

Mentally, she cursed her blunder. "As opposed to chimps and rats."

"Oh. What type of experiments?"

"I really can't say."

"Can't or won't? Come on, Rowan. I searched for months to get you a lead on your brother, and I'd never betray your confidence."

Hesitating, she looked into his dear face, read his concern. He was the one best friend she had, and he'd proven himself time and again. What was more, Nick had never forbidden her from saying anything. She needed to spill her guts to someone she trusted. That would be Dean.

"Bring the rest of the beer. We're going to need it."

Clearly intrigued, he fetched the carton. They carried their brews into the living room, placed them in the center of the coffee table, and flopped on the sofa.

And then, she proceeded to tell him everything. From her arrival and being met by shifters, to her wrenching departure. How she'd cried half the way home and just wanted to sleep for a fucking year and forget any of it ever happened. Except she couldn't because that's where Micah was, and where he obviously planned to stay.

When she finished, they'd killed all but two beers and Dean was staring at her, wide-eyed, having not said much for the whole story. Except to interject a question or a heartfelt "holy shit" here or there.

"You think I've gone completely off the deep end, don'tcha?" She picked at the label, feeling a bit fuzzy. Too much trauma and too little sleep on the trip back to L.A., throw in some beer on top of a skimpy Lean Cuisine, and it made for one tired, sad cop.

"Christ, I don't know." He pushed his fingers through his short wheat-colored hair, making it poke in every direction. "In all my life, I've never met a more steady, no-bullshit person than you. You've never lied to me. But this..."

"I know it's a lot to swallow. But it's true, every word." She learned toward him, anxious for him to believe her. "I need one person on my side I can talk to about all of this, someone who understands me and won't judge. It's always been you. Please don't humor me, or tell me I'm imagining things because of all the stress. I'm not. It's real."

She hadn't realized she'd raised her voice until he laid a hand on her knee and spoke softly. "It's all right, my friend. I need proof just as much as you do when it comes to just about anything I'm told. Job hazard, you know? But because we've known each other so long, I trust that you're telling me the truth."

"You'd still like proof, though, wouldn't you?" She managed a small smile.

"I'm an agent." He shrugged, as if that said it all. And it did.

"Thanks for listening, even if you're still skeptical about supernatural stuff."

"You're my best friend, and that's what friends do." Finishing off his beer, he set it on the table and watched her intently. "What will you do about this Aric guy?"

"What can I do? He said he doesn't feel the same pull toward me that I feel for him. Jesus, my guts are churning and I want to jump in the car and drive all nineteen hours straight through to get to him. What kind of stalker does that make me?"

"You're in love. Give yourself a break. And have you considered that maybe he's just scared?"

"Of what? Me? Commitment?"

"Wouldn't be the first man to run, initially. Could be he needs some encouragement. A little push. One thing for sure, you didn't help your quest to snare him by running home like a whipped puppy."

She curled her lip. "First, I wasn't on a quest to snare a man. I didn't want a boyfriend." Well, that was a lie. But still, she hadn't been actively looking. "And second, I didn't flee the scene like a criminal-I have a job. You know, that thing I do that pays the bills?"

"Whoa, don't bite my head off." His shit-eating grin was cute. "Aren't you conveniently forgetting the job offer the team's boss made to you?"

Frustrated, she waved a hand in the air. "Hellooo! Aric is on said team, and he practically shoved me into my car and launched me back to L.A. Unrequited love and work partners don't mix, as you and I well know."

He winced. "Good point. We've both tried that and failed, haven't we? But I think you ought to reconsider, because I get the sneaking feeling he's not as immune to you as you think. Take some time, is all I'm saying. Don't totally rule it out, or you could really regret it."

A recollection of Nick in his office sprang to mind, placing his fist over his heart.

Just listen to what this tells you.

"Okay, I promise I'll give it some more thought."

"Good. Now, what's to eat around here? I'm starved."

Some things never changed. And that was really, really great to know right now.

Familiarity was all she had to cling to.

After Dean left, Rowan got ready for bed and slid under the covers. Almost as soon as her head hit the pillow, she drifted off, sinking into sleep.

Even then, she couldn't stop thinking of Aric. Longing for her wolf.

Reaching across the vast distance, she pictured the field behind the building. Knew that was where she'd find him because she followed the pull. The damned yearning that refused to be denied.

The field appeared, and she found her toes sinking into soft grass. And across the short distance, the man she sought was bathed in moonlight, the glow illuminating his flawless skin, the lean, rippling muscles. He didn't see her, but stood with his head tilted back, dark auburn hair flowing, gazing at the stars. But he must've sensed her, and he spoke in a low voice as she approached.

"Do you believe that's where we go when we die?"

Moving close, she took his hand. It burned with heat but she didn't release him. "I don't know. I've always preferred the idea that we stay closer to earth, guarding the people we love."

He turned to look at her, a sad smile playing on his lips. "Being a creature of the earth, I like that idea better."

"Why would you be standing out here on a beautiful night like tonight and asking something like that?"

"I wasn't, originally. I was really just standing here, hoping you'd use that gift of yours to find me."

Cupping his face, love swelled in her heart against her will. Without her permission.

"And so I did. Make love to me, Aric," she said breathlessly. With him, she wasn't a cop, a protector. She was a woman, stripped to her bare essence, and it felt incredible.

"You don't know how much I want to." Stroking her face with one hand, he seemed to be memorizing her every feature. "But I can't. I have to go, soon, and I-I wanted to tell you good-bye," he whispered.

Fear seized her soul at the way he'd said that. So final. "Where are you going? Is it an op?"

"No, baby."

"Then what? When will you be back?"

"I don't know." He looked away.

He was lying.

"Tell me the truth, damn you! I deserve to know," she cried, grabbing his arm.

Agony lined his handsome face. "Before you left, I lied. I felt it, too, the pull. I never wanted you to go."

"Then why? I thought you didn't want me!"

"Oh, God. Nothing could be further from the truth. But you deserve much more than a loser like me." Before she could protest, he kissed her lips. Tasted with his tongue, delving into the seam as he pulled their naked bodies close. Then it was over and he backed away. Let go.

"Forgive me for what I did to Micah," he choked out. "Don't forget me."

Then he turned and walked resolutely toward the woods, like a man going to the gallows. She cried his name but she began to be drawn backward, the distance widening until she couldn't see him anymore. Fog swirled around her and she sobbed, lost, calling for Aric.

"Aric, no!"

She awoke, trembling, staring into the gloom of her shoebox of a bedroom in her apartment. Raising a shaking hand to her forehead, she rubbed, trying to clear her mind of the awful dream. The terror gnawing at her gut right now, her no-nonsense inner voice whispering what if it wasn't just a dream?

Glancing at the digital clock by the bed, she saw the glowing numbers read three fifteen in the morning. She couldn't very well call Nick at this hour and order him to check on a grown man because she'd had a bad dream.

No. She'd get past this. It was some sort of leftover anxiety making itself known now that she was home. She would call, but she'd wait until the morning and talk to Micah. Pump him enough to hear that everything was all right, and no one would have to know about her little meltdown.

Okay, bad plan. Screw that and go with instinct. That's what good cops did.

Switching on the bedside lamp, she stumbled from the room and went in search of her purse. Inside, she found Nick's card right where she'd put it. Then she retrieved her cell phone from its charger and made the call, pulse racing.

She didn't know whether to be relieved when it went to voice mail, but she left a message just the same. "Nick, it's Rowan. I know it's after three in the morning, but I have this bad feeling something's wrong with Aric. I had this dream and-well, it's stupid, but call me back anyway when you get this message. Doesn't matter what time. 'Bye."

The next call went to Aric's cell. There, too, she got voice mail.

"Aric, it's Rowan. Did you have that dream just now? The one where you said good-bye? Give me a call back as soon as you get this and tell me that was just some freaky trip, or that you didn't have the same dream, and I'll be happy. Please, call me. I-I miss you."

Damn it. She hadn't meant to add that last bit, but it slipped out. Pressing the END CALL button, she padded back to bed, but laid the phone on her nightstand. Short of driving back to Wyoming, she'd done what she could for now.

Closing her eyes, she drifted into fitful sleep. But this time she didn't dream at all.

Chapter Fifteen

Somewhere, a bird was chirping.

No, not a bird. But it was insistent, and pulled him back to consciousness. Aric opened his eyes and fumbled for whatever damned thing was making noise, chirping and buzzing on his nightstand. And of course, in his groggy state, knocked the device onto the floor. His cell phone, he realized.

"Fuck."

It was still night, and by the bedside clock, three twenty in the morning. Who the hell would call him at this hour? Leaning over the side of the bed, he groped for the phone. Lost his balance and landed on the carpeted floor with a thud.

A sizzling noise reached his awareness, and slowly it dawned on him that the sound was coming from the floor, where his palms and knees were braced on the carpet. An acrid smell reached his nostrils. What the hell?

Smoke. The carpet, smoldering.

Lunging for the lamp he switched it on and blinked, clearing his vision. The carpet was singed and blackened where he'd been kneeling.

"Shit!" Unreal. He was about to set his goddamned apartment on fire.

Scrambling into his bathroom, he sat on the tile, panting. He'd never been this freaking hot since he'd developed his gift as a Firestarter. In fact, he was burning up. Literally. Sweat rolled down the sides of his face, down his chest and spine. God, it was so hard to breathe. And his canines ached with the need to claim the woman who was hundreds of miles away, sleeping soundly. Unless that had been her calling?

Before he could check his phone, he had to try to get cooled off. Pushing himself up, he staggered to the shower and turned the water on cold. Climbed inside and leaned against the tile, facing the spray, watching the droplets hit his skin, then hiss and sizzle. At first he relished the cold water. It felt so good.