The Black Wolf. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

him in on some of the special things she could do.

      The only question now was how long she might make him wait for another chance to see her, and if she already knew that was what he wanted most.

      * * *

      The Were wasn’t going away. Cara sensed his determination to corral the guest who was MIA and fulfill his obligation to the pack. She also sensed that he was genuinely interested in her for reasons of his own. This Were male had a different agenda. He seemed to be as curious about her as she was about him.

      She rode the crest of another wave, feeling extraordinarily light, but guilt over the promise to behave that she’d made to her father left her nauseous. Her family never broke their promises. Would she be the first to do so? If the Landaus’ walls didn’t keep her in line, her family’s reputation for integrity would.

      As the wave that brought her back to shore receded, Cara stood up. Taking a few steps forward to avoid the drag of the tide, she said to the Were on the beach, “You are persistent.”

      “Persistence is my middle name,” he returned. “I’ve been told it’s a virtue.”

      Cara didn’t wipe the water from her face, liking the coolness it provided. “You’ll take me to your pack yourself? You aren’t afraid of being alone with a member of my clan?”

      “Should 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