were prey and predator and it was only common sense.
In the afternoon, she perched on a rock, which gave her a view for miles in all directions. Dubh grazed the rough grass while Keira stared out over the rugged landscape of the moors.
This place was her prison, but she loved it anyway, and a sense of peace and fatalism seeped into her.
The truth was, she had no choices. This was her life. If she involved anyone else with her problems, she might very well get them killed. If she didn’t kill them herself, first. Maybe her wolf-man would come back. If he did, she would allow herself one more night of his company
As the sun sank low on the horizon, she returned to the keep, jumping down from Dubh as they got close, and sending the pony on his way with a pat on the rump.
What if the man didn’t return?
She climbed the ruined tower and perched on the highest part. Finally, she saw him in the far distance. He moved at a fast walk despite being weighed down by bags and other things. He had a rucksack on his back, a shopping bag in one hand, and a bottle of camping gas in the other.
He wouldn’t try and get close would he?
She gnawed on her lower lip. He was still safe. As he drew closer, she stood up and waved her arms.
He must have seen her because he dropped the bags and the bottle and waved back. Then he kicked off his boots and took off his clothes. And she wished he was nearer. He was as beautiful as a man, as he’d been as a wolf.
Finally, he stood naked and she swallowed. He folded his clothes, placed them in a plastic bag, and tucked them under a nearby bush. Even from here, she felt the shiver of magic—or whatever it was—in the air. Then he vanished and the huge black wolf stood in his place.
She scrambled down the tower and ran across the moor toward him. He stayed where he was and she collapsed to her knees and hugged him around the broad neck, digging her fingers into the silky fur. A warm, wet tongue licked her cheek and she burst into tears.
Again.
It occurred to her how tenuous her hold on her emotions really was. She teetered on the edge of total breakdown. She had to get a grip. She allowed herself one sniffle and then wiped her face on his fur and leaned away.
The wolf sat back on his haunches and grinned. Well, maybe it wasn’t a real grin but close enough. He rose to his feet and crossed to the rucksack. It looked heavy, bulging, but he picked it up in his jaws and trotted toward the house. Keira sat for a moment watching the slow wave of his plumed tail. Then she scrambled to her feet, picked up the shopping bag in one hand and the camping gas in the other, and hurried after him.
Once inside, she put the bag and gas down, and lit the candles in the wall sconces around the room. The wolf stared down at the note she had written. He glanced over his shoulder and wagged his tail, then gestured toward the rucksack. Keira crossed to where it lay propped on the floor. She pulled open the fastener and found a piece of paper on the top. Picking it up, she read the untidily scrawled words.
My name is Connor and I’d like us to be friends.
She blinked; he’d hardly want to be her friend if she burst into tears every few seconds. Instead, she bent down and investigated the remaining contents of the rucksack.
Chocolate. Fruit. Tins of soup. Steaks. A bottle of whisky. A huge cake.
Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. Very slowly, she unwrapped a bar of chocolate and placed a piece in her mouth. She stood there, her eyes closed as she savored the intense flavor. When she opened her eyes the wolf was watching her, head cocked to one side. She broke off a square of chocolate and held it out to him and he took it delicately from her fingers.
“Hello, Connor,” she murmured.
Turning away, she busied herself emptying the rucksack and shopping bag, nearly swooning as she discovered coffee and milk. He must be a mind reader to know of her cravings. Unable to resist, she set up her