Wolf at the Door by Sadie Hart Page A

anything else.
    “Timber,” Brandt said softly, and he waited
for some of the fear to ebb from her face. “I don’t give up.”
    “Nor does Charles.”
    Brandt shook his head and stepped closer. The
heat of her skin warmed his as he leaned into her. He didn’t want
her able to look away, not right now. “I don’t care about him. What
I need to know is, are you going to give up?”
    Strength flooded back into her then. There
was an edge of steel to her eyes, a hardened line in her jaw, a
tension in her shoulders. “No,” she whispered, and that one word
came with all the determination anyone could wish for.
    Brandt couldn’t help it, then. He ran his
knuckles along her cheek. Her skin was soft, but he could feel the
cord of muscle in her jaw, still locked and tense. “Then you’re
going to be okay.”
    And, God, he hoped he wasn’t lying.
    “And know this,” he continued. “If he does
get you out from under our protection, you won’t be alone, because
I’ll still be fighting to get to you.”
    The corners of her mouth edged up in a small
smile. “I’ll hold you to that.”
    “Good.”
    Because that was one thing he could guarantee. He wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself like the
Hounds before him. That was one faith she could cling to. That,
even if every other thing they feared came to pass, at least this
time there was someone fully committed to getting her back.

 
    Chapter Eleven
    Timber
thrashed awake, her legs tangled in sweat-stained sheets, a scream
lodged in her throat. She fisted her hands against her pillowcase
and bit down on the fluff, refusing to scream. Just a dream. It was
just a fucking dream. And she was so tired of having them. She
closed her eyes, ignoring the wet streak as a tear slipped down her
cheek.
    She couldn’t keep doing this.
    Couldn’t keep hiding. She felt like a kicked
pup, constantly feeling sorry for herself, whimpering in the
corner. Today had been a start, at least. She flexed her hands,
remembering the feel of metal against her palms, the kick of the
gun when it went off. The stink of gunpowder. Brandt had made her
wear earmuffs, but it’d done little to muffle the noise.
    Timber gusted out a long breath. She’d ripped
that target to shreds, until there was nothing but a gaping hole in
the silhouette’s chest. For the first time in a long time, she’d
felt powerful. Strong. Unbeatable. She’d never been much of a gun
person. She could shift into a wolf, had fangs and claws that could
tear a person apart. But at the Enforcement’s shooting range, she’d
felt more powerful than she could have imagined.
    Yeah, it was a start. No more letting
nightmares ruin her life. She’d locked herself in solitude. Oh,
sure, she’d helped people. But Bear Creek had never been a
permanent pack. The women had come and gone throughout the years,
the pack just a stepping stone to a different life. She hadn’t had
a friend, someone constant in years.
    Not until Brandt.
    Her fingertips brushed her cheek, and she
could almost feel his rough knuckles skimming along her skin. He
made her want to have someone in her life again, made her want to
be touched. To laugh and smile and have someone to share new
memories with. Her breast tingled as she remembered how close he’d
gotten, his breath against her lips, when he’d made her that
promise.
    Her fingers slid to her lips, recalling his
kiss, and heat pooled between her thighs. She wanted to kiss him
again. Timber leaned back in her bed with a groan. And now she
definitely wasn’t going to sleep. At least this time it wasn’t
because of the nightmares.
    With a sigh, she shoved off the bed. Slamming
her feet into her slippers, she made her way down the stairs.
Brandt was sprawled out on her couch. A loose sheet hung around his
hips, his bare feet sticking out one end.
    It was the other end that made her mouth
dry.
    The silver moonlight drifting through her
curtains seemed to carve him out of alabaster, every muscle, every
hard