The Wolf Siren. Karen Whiddon

feel really good right now.”

      Though she dipped her chin to acknowledge him, she didn’t comment. Instead, carrying her overnight bag, she brushed past him and closed the bathroom door behind her. A moment later, he heard the shower start. When he did, something that had been clenched inside of him relaxed. Odd, but he hadn’t even realized he’d been so tense.

      He took to roaming the room, stopping occasionally at the single window and peering out through the middle of the closed curtains. Not that he expected to see anything—he was 100 percent certain they hadn’t been followed—but old habits were hard to break. Plus, during his twice-yearly stints working for the Protectors, he’d come to appreciate the value of being overly vigilant.

      The shower cut off, drawing his attention to the closed bathroom door. Though he knew it might be a bit of a cliché, he was a man and couldn’t help but picture her reaching for a towel, her pale and creamy skin glistening with water.

      A few minutes later, she emerged, a towel piled high on her head. Her long legs were bare under a soft black T-shirt that skimmed her knees. She barely glanced at him, claiming the bed farthest from the door. He watched her pull the ugly, patterned bedspread down and fold it neatly, before she slid under the worn sheets.

      “Here,” he said, tossing the television remote on the bed near her. “I’ll just be a few minutes.”

      Still keeping her profile averted, she ignored him.

      Since he could well understand her nerves, he moved past her, careful to act as if everything was perfectly ordinary. He hoped she’d be able to relax once he closed himself in the bathroom. Maybe find something banal on television to help lull herself back to sleep.

      The hot, as close to scalding as he could stand, shower improved his mood 100 percent. He dried off, dressing in loose gym shorts and an old T-shirt even though he preferred to sleep naked. After brushing his teeth, he opened the door, listening for the sound of the TV. Instead, only silence greeted him. Not completely unsurprised, he saw she hadn’t turned it on. Instead, she lay curled into a ball, her long lashes fanning the curve of her cheek. She didn’t move as he quietly approached her, though he could tell from the uneven rise and fall of her chest that she only pretended sleep. Even so, she was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

      Then, while he stood drinking in the sight of her, she began trembling. A horrible, violent shivering, reminding him where she’d been and what a man looming over her bed most likely meant to her.

      Horrified, he stepped back. His inner wolf snarled, evidently unsettled by the sudden, sharp ache just below his heart. Moving carefully, he crossed over to his own bed and pulled back the covers. A quick glance over his shoulder at her revealed her shaking hadn’t abated in the slightest. Poor Lilly was clearly terrified.

      His chest tight, he considered his options. Deciding, he snagged his car keys from the dresser. “Be right back,” he murmured, even though he knew she wouldn’t acknowledge his words.

      Unlocking his car, he reached into the backseat and retrieved his battered guitar case. While he was out there, he did a quick scope of the parking lot, reassured by the emptiness of the well-lit area. Even the highway seemed quiet. Not a lot of activity on I-90 near Billings at night.

      Back inside the room, he bolted the door behind him. Lilly continued to lie in the same position, her slender body still wracked by shudders. Cursing under his breath, he sat down on the edge of his bed and fumbled with the latches on his case, careful not to look too long at her.

      Once he had the old acoustic guitar out, he considered. He needed something soothing, not the rollicking bluesy-country music he generally favored. His entire family played one instrument or another. One of the first things he’d learned on the guitar was the old Beatles song “Let It Be.” Perfect.

      She gave a reflexive jerk of her shoulders when he strummed the first chord. Ignoring this, he continued softly playing, singing the words in his low voice. While he sang, his wolf tried to sense hers. So far, even though such a thing was common among Shape-shifters, he hadn’t been able to do this with her, not even the most minute fraction of contact. Kane couldn’t understand why her wolf seemed to be locked away most of the time, though he guessed this was the result of the torture and experiments she’d suffered while locked away in the basement of Sanctuary. He had hopes that eventually, with the passage of time, she’d be able to return to a semblance of normalcy.

      So he continued to play music for her, and for her wolf. He’d learned music not only calmed the savage beast, but provided a soothing balm to troubled souls.

      Gradually, her trembling appeared to lessen. Encouraged, he began another song. This time the old Bob Dylan tune “Blowing in the Wind.” Though several artists had done covers of this song, in Kane’s head he always heard Bob Dylan’s gravelly voice. Kane knew all the words to this one, too, and he sang with his heart, quietly paying homage to a beautiful woman who should never have had to endure what she had.

      Midway through this second song, Lilly opened her eyes. She turned her head and, after a moment of silent scrutiny, she pushed up on one elbow to watch him.

      Progress. He barely managed to suppress an encouraging smile. Instead, pretending not to notice, he launched into some old Judy Collins, refusing to reflect on how every soothing song he could think of was from four or five decades ago. What could he say? He’d always liked oldies.

      Once the last notes of the music died away, he placed the guitar on the chair next to his bed. “Good night,” he told her, inclining his head in a sort of salute before reaching up and quickly extinguishing the light.

      As he lay in the darkness, his heart inexplicably pounding in his chest, with his wolf wanting to howl mournfully, he listened. The faint sounds of the nearby interstate were muted, and the rest of the motel was quiet. But these things barely registered in his consciousness, because he attuned every fiber of his being to hearing her.

      At first, there was nothing, as if she was frozen in place. But then Lilly must have accepted the need to sleep or resigned herself to the inevitable. He heard the slight rustle of her sheets as she tried to make herself comfortable, the soft sigh that escaped her lips. And finally, her breathing slowed, became even and deep.

      The tightness eased in his chest. She’d fallen asleep. Why he should feel as if he’d accomplished a victory, he couldn’t say. This drive would take four long days, with three overnight stops. They’d made it through the first. He could only hope the next two would be easier for her.

      Eventually, he drifted into a restless slumber of his own.

      * * *

      Lilly came awake sometime in the dark of the night. As was her habit, she held herself utterly still while she gathered her bearings. The even breathing of the man in the bed next to her told her he was out, safely locked in the throes of REM sleep.

      Kane. He looked like a fallen angel, or at least how she’d always pictured them when her father had ranted. Maybe not Lucifer, but one of the others caught in the fallout. She thought this because she detected no malice in those amazing silver eyes of his.

      Everything about him affected her. Her experience outside of Sanctuary was too small for her to know why. She couldn’t understand her reaction toward him. Lucas had told her she could trust him, and she took what her twin brother told her as gospel. But the effect Kane had on her wasn’t like fear. He exerted some kind of magnetic pull on her, the way a candle attracts a moth. She wasn’t sure what it was exactly. An odd combination of trepidation and fascination, maybe. The latter worried her.

      Of course, it seemed as if everything made her anxious these days—ever since gaining her freedom, something she’d once hoped for but had given up on. Now she wished for normalcy, to understand how to interact with others without the crippling sense of trepidation. Lucas had said she needed to be patient, to give it time.

      But she couldn’t lie, not to herself. She suspected that the fear would always be with her. Even in Lucas’s home, she couldn’t control her immediate reaction if someone inadvertently startled her.