Masters 01 Master of the Mountain by Cherise Sinclair Page B

him, he had more personality? His mouth seemed to turn up into a smile when he was happy. His ears came forward when he was curious and went down when Logan scolded him. Even his tail had different positions like doggy sign language.
     
    Feeling absurdly brave, she knelt beside him and ruffled the fur on his neck.
     
    With a low whine, he shoved his head into her lap, knocking her onto her rear.
     
    A breath of fear quaked through her, and then she laughed. “Bully.” Sitting up, she wrapped an arm over his back. He licked her cheek and leaned in. God, he was sweet.
     
    “So, my friend,” she asked him and watched his ears prick up. “Shall we draw Ashley with a really big nose to match her tits? And plump her lips up to the size of dinner plates?”
     
    * * * * *
     
     
    Logan stood in the shadows of the forest, waiting for his brother and watching Thor cozy up to the city girl. He saw her stifle her fear—brave little sub—then laugh and hug the dog. She'd come a long way in just a day, hadn't she?
     
    Damned if she didn't pull at him like a riptide off the coast. An assertive city girl whose vulnerability over her looks could break a man's heart. That stubborn courage that let her pet Thor. Her soft mouth and obstinate chin and willingness to share her passion even when he shocked her. The woman would never be boring, would she?
     
    Jake walked out the back door and almost tripped over the two. Regaining his balance, he said a couple of words, making Becca smile. He walked across the clearing to join Logan, and they headed up Jackass Trail.
     
    “Pretty little redhead there,” Jake said casually.
     
    “Uh-huh.” Logan ducked under a low-hanging branch.
     
    “Looks well used. Must have had a good night.” A second's pause. “I noticed her wrists were bruised.”
     
    “Uh-huh.” A low bark sounded behind them, and a few seconds later, Thor appeared on the trail, trotting to catch up.
     
    “She's wearing your flannel shirt.”
     
    Logan knew that when an idea stuck in Jake's head, he held on more relentlessly than a damned bulldog. “You got a point to make here?”
     
    Jake reached down to scratch Thor's head. “I thought we agreed not to fuck women in the swinger groups.”
     
    Logan stopped. Hell. They'd made that rule before opening the place, and neither of them had broken it. Until now. “She's no swinger. In fact, she almost froze to death on the porch to avoid becoming one. I put her in my bed then and…” Their father'd always said only weaklings use excuses. “ Stand up for what you did .” Logan turned to face his brother and nodded. “Yes, I broke the rule.”
     
    “She's submissive?”
     
    Logan sighed. They were both dominants, and Jake would see her appeal. “Yep.”
     
    Jake leaned a shoulder against an incense cedar, and a grin appeared on his face. “'Bout time. You going to keep her?”
     
    “You're sure a nosy bastard.” Logan scrubbed his face, feeling the stubble. He'd forgotten to shave again. “She's a city girl. She belongs there, not here.”
     
    “That's a shame. She looks good in the shirt—better than you do.”
     
    Logan grinned. She did look good.
     
    “Why don't you keep her?” As Jake turned to scratch his back against the tree trunk, the dappled sunlight illumined his face. Hard and lean and tanned, like Logan's. But Logan's face lacked the long scar across his forehead, because he hadn't been attacked by his brother in the middle of the night and almost killed.
     
    Logan forced his eyes away from Jake's scar, feeling the heavy weight of guilt in his gut where it never left. And neither would the memory of being trapped in a building, bullets ricocheting off the walls, fighting off a berserk insurgent. He'd awakened from the familiar dream that night with real blood covering his hands and a real knife at his feet. Across the bedroom, Jake had struggled to his feet, blood streaming down his face. “ Wake up, Logan, dammit