Page 37 of The Alpha Dire Wolf (Bloodlines & Bloodbonds #1)

Sylvie

W aking to the smell of fresh wood burning was exactly the sort of peaceful rise-and-shine I needed.

After the events of the day before, peace, quiet, and healing was the name of the game.

A drowsy smile crossed my face. I’d always loved campfires and log fireplaces.

The crackling of logs and the dancing of flames as they reached for the sky in a never-ending dance, it all came together to put one at ease.

Maybe Lincoln and I can have a campfire sometime. Sit around it on the fall in sweaters, under a blanket with the stars above. That would be nice. And cute. We could put the fire pit where the oak tree was and—

I shot up in bed, sniffing again. There was no mistaking that scent. Flinging the sheets free, I leaped from bed.

“Linc!” I cried, stumbling as my foot didn’t quite clear the comforter. “Lincoln, wake up!”

The problem was, we didn’t have a firepit. And my grandmother had blocked the wood-burning fireplace years ago due to insurance rates on her aging home. Which meant that if I was smelling smoke so strongly, the house itself had to be on fire.

I raced from the bedroom in my short-shorts and light gray T-shirt with faded original Star Wars logo on it.

“Lincoln!”

He wasn’t in the spare room I’d made up for him the night before. The sheets were neatly folded and, thankfully, bloodless. He’d regained enough strength to hold himself upright for a shower, but that had been about all he’d had in him. Sleep had come shortly after.

“Damnit, where are you?” I yelped, racing down the stairs while calling his name repeatedly as I booked it for the back door, desperate to escape before the flames engulfed the rest of the house.

I was out the door in a flash—

And immediately caught up in something that wrapped itself around my chest and hauled me off my feet. I kicked and screamed. The tree-thing had me! It was back!

“Get off me! Let me go! You can’t have me! Lincoln, help! It’s back!”

I hauled back and kicked hard against my captor, making solid flesh-on-flesh contact.

Something grunted, and I stilled. The tree-thing didn’t have flesh.

“It’s okay,” Lincoln said, speaking in a low rumble right into my ear, his lips a fraction of an inch away. “I’m right here, Vee. I’m right here. I’ve got you. You’re safe. I promise. I promise.”

I sagged. He was right. I was safe when he was around. Every time, he’d worked hard to protect me. To keep me alive. I could trust him.

“What’s wrong?” he wanted to know.

The answer didn’t come right away. As I regained my senses, realizing it was his arms around me, it banished the fear. Replaced it with a warm blanket of safety that melted my fears and had me curling up against him. The nightmare was over.

Fresh burning smoke came to me once more.

“Linc?” I asked, on the verge of hysteria despite his grip. Too much had happened to me. It was too much. The attack, the truth about who he was, what he was. I couldn’t handle it. I was breaking.

“Yes, it’s me, Vee. It’s me.” He took a breath. “Did you have a nightmare?”

“No!” I yelped, standing upright. “Linc, the house is on fire. We need to get away!”

I tried to wiggle free, but it was like fighting against steel bands. His arms didn’t yield a fraction of an inch. He held me fast and firm.

“The house is not on fire,” Lincoln said calmly, lifting me from my feet and moving through a swaying turn like we were slow-dancing. “See? It’s not the house.”

The bass of his voice ran down my spine and out in all directions, soothing me and filling me with something else.

Flames and smoke were in view now. They weren’t coming from the house. Just like he promised. In the middle of the backyard, where the old oak tree used to be, was a pit. And stacked nearby was fresh-cut wood, most of it blackened and dead on the outside, and rotting on the inside.

Comprehension dawned.

“You’re burning the tree,” I whispered, gathering his shirt in my fingers and trying to fight down the demons in my head. The demons cried out, warning me that the tree-thing was still out there. That it would come back.

I could do nothing to stop it.

I hated being helpless. It was a horrid feeling. But it was all I had. I couldn’t turn into a giant wolf like Linc. I could do nothing to fight back.

Lincoln grunted an affirmative. “What’s left of it.

A loft of the core went into that … thing.

Most of what’s left is rotted or in pieces.

I cut up what was left, including as many roots as I could hack apart, and I’ve been burning that and shoveling in the rest as fast as I can gather it.

It’ll take a bit, but I’ll get as much gone as possible. ”

I watched the flames for a minute in silence.

Imagining each one as a death cry, robbing the tree-monster of part of its power.

Pushing away from Linc, I walked up to the pile of wood, grabbed a piece of rotted oak, and tossed it on the fire.

Then another. And another, hurling each piece into the fire until ashes jumped and sparked.

“Why are you doing this?” I asked as Lincoln walked up behind me, watching my back and keeping me safe from surprises.

“Because,” he grunted, wrapping his arms around me once more, this time from behind. He pulled me back to his chest as he lifted me from the ground, stopping my attack on the logs. “I don’t want there to be any lingering link between that thing and this beautiful place. I want you to feel safe.”

“Oh.”

The heat of his body pressing against me reminded me of how little clothing I was wearing. My shorts were halfway up my butt by that point, and I didn’t have on a bra. His arms were brushing against the sides of my breasts, pushing them slightly together, his hands clasped gently over my stomach.

It was far more intimate than I thought.

“You can put me down now,” I said, wondering how long it would be before his arms shook with the effort.

“Do you promise not to try and kick me between the legs again?” he said humorously, referencing my earlier struggle.

“No,” I said, but I didn’t mean it.

Lincoln chuckled. “You should never be in sales. Your technique sucks.”

But he set me down anyway. I stepped to the side, not wanting to get close to the fire as it burned higher and brighter for the moment thanks to my additions. Finding a place to stand, I shook myself out, throwing off some of the bad energy that started the morning.

That was a mistake. With my lack of clothing, and the flimsy old pajama shirt, Lincoln’s eyes tracked everything as it bounced and jiggled for his enjoyment. Firelight flickered across his pupils as I watched them drink in my body.

Self-conscious at the attention, I folded my arms over my breasts, hoping he hadn’t noticed how quickly they stiffened under his interested, attentive gaze, which I had not prepared for.

“There’s not a lot left,” I said, swinging back to the fire, only to realize it gave Lincoln a full view of my ass cheeks as they hung out from my shorts.

There was no winning apparently.

“I’ve been up for a few hours.” Nothing in his voice betrayed any emotion.

What was he thinking? Had he just admired what he saw because he was a man? Or was it something more? The things he had said the day before had been … intense.

But he was wounded then. Badly hurt. He didn’t mean any of that. It was just the pain talking.

That’s what I told myself.

“Oh.”

In my peripheral vision I saw him nod. “I let you sleep. You needed it.”

“I wasn’t the one hurt.”

“Yes, you were,” he said gently. “Up here.”

He reached over and lightly tapped my head. His hand didn’t linger.

I glanced at him. He was wearing the tattered remnants of his clothing, cleaned as best as I could and hung to dry overnight.

Using the washing machine would have wrecked it even more.

Through the holes, I could see the healing of his wounds coming along far faster than any normal human could hope for.

“You’re obviously healing up. You look it. Good, I mean. Um, like, you look better,” I said, tearing my eyes away from the muscled arms and fit torso visible from a dozen or more different holes.

“I told you,” Lincoln said, ignoring my flub. “I heal fast.”

“Yes, you did, but I think it’s okay if I’m still a bit skeptical of it all until I see it happen. After all, I did only learn that your world existed last night.”

Lincoln grunted, still staring into the flames.

“Thank you for doing the burning,” I said.

Another grunt. “No thanks are necessary.”

“Well, thank you for yesterday then,” I said, fidgeting with the hem of the cotton shirt, twisting it tightly. “Saving my life and all that.”

He glanced down at me. I smiled up at him. His eyes grabbed me and held me, rooting me to that spot.

“I told you,” he said, his voice the rumble of a freight train, “I won’t let anything happen to you. I’ll protect you no matter what. With every ounce of strength I possess.”

Lincoln was a very, very strong man.

I nodded. I didn’t know what else to say, and I doubted I could have spoken anyway at that moment. My throat was all closed up. My body was on fire from the way he looked at me.

The memory of being pressed up against him was loud and clear in my mind. Refusing to leave, despite the dozen eviction notices I served. It continued to trespass, hammering at me over and over again—a call I was finding impossible to ignore.

To do that, you must find the guardian. They will be drawn to you—a partnership, a call impossible to ignore.

Those damn words again.

“I should go inside,” I said hurriedly, brushing past him and heading into the house.

I got all of two steps past the threshold.

Lincoln was there, his arms around me once more, pulling me back against him. My back, his front, touching in dozens of spots. My waist to his … lower. He held me fast, preventing any escape. Everything of his was hard. Everything of mine, so soft in comparison.