he murmured. He liked the idea of the massages. Maybe this could prove to be worth his time. How long had it been since a woman had grabbed his interest?
“I’ll need you to sign a contract, of course. To protect us both,” she said. Her gaze whipped around the house, so fast he could almost see her mind recalculating like a GPS. It was fascinating and disturbing, because he knew she was pushing him hard to go where he didn’t want to venture.
Hiring Keira would get Keegan off his back. Keegan already voiced his approval of her. She was better than a navy shrink and ten times safer than a damn mind-melder. And much sexier. The surge of sexual interest flared again.
But he’d be damned if he let her try any of her woo-woo techniques. She could clean the house instead, cook his meals.
“I need a live-in housekeeper. You’d have your own room downstairs by the kitchen and I’ll pay you the three thousand and you stay for the month. Come back tomorrow at oh-five-hundred with your contract before I leave for the base.”
A tentative smile. “You sure?”
The hesitant words contrasted sharply with her earlier confidence. She almost sounded like a child hopeful for acceptance. Dale’s curiosity was piqued.
He gave a rueful glance at his feet. “I’m not into all that New Age crap, but my feet could use some pampering.”
“It’s not massage. It’s a technique to free the energy.”
“You’re not going to nibble at my toes? Damn.”
Her mouth wobbled in a tentative smile. Dale chuckled, the sound rusty and grating. Hell, had it been that long since he laughed? “I’m teasing you. I’m not into having my toes nibbled.”
At her widening smile, he added, “There are exceptions, if the mouth happens to be wide, and lush...and a tad crooked.”
The most intriguing blush ignited her cheeks. Keira put her hands to her reddened cheeks as that lovely, wide and crooked mouth parted. “Oh-five-hundred sharp. I’ll be here. I’ll even treat you to coffee.”
She leaped down the steps, marched to her motorbike and with a kick start it coughed to life, and she took off into the night.
For a few moments Dale stood in the doorway, staring after her, feeling something tighten in his chest.
He shut the door and called his neighbor to see if Keira’s story was true. After talking a few minutes, he hung up and then dialed Keegan’s number. “Spill it. Tell me what you saw in her mind.”
“Dale, it’s late....”
“Tell me.”
“I couldn’t get a fix on her memories and who she is, but I’ll say this, you need her. Trust me on this. Do yourself a favor. Let go and don’t question, just go with your gut.”
Right. Last time he did that, his guts almost ended up spilling out on the table where he’d been tortured. Damn, he hated coyness.
“Keegan...level with me.”
“Already have, son. Find yourself help and get straightened out. I don’t give a damn who straightens you out, as long as it’s done. Hire a witch doctor if you must.”
“Already did.” He told the admiral about Keira. “You satisfied now? You’ll get off my back?”
“You’re doing the right thing, Dale.”
He snorted. “We’ll see. I don’t believe in any of that woo-woo shit.”
“Maybe you should. Maybe that’s the only thing that can free you.”
The admiral hung up, leaving Dale to ponder his cryptic words.
He went to the window and stared at the full moon, feeling the itch and pull of scar tissue. Or maybe it was the itch and pull of something deeper.
That wolf that hurt him, if he got his hands on the beast...
Dale went into the kitchen, opened the sliding glass doors and stepped onto his deck. A cool, refreshing breeze caressed his cheeks. He was a powerful Primary Mage, a Mage who could shape-shift into any life form. Right now the wolf called to him, the urge to run wild and free in fur. Closing his eyes, he stretched out his hands and called upon his magick, and shifted into a large gray timber wolf. He ran into his backyard, and leaped over the wood fence, giving a joyful yip as he raced through the woods. Senses filled with the night air, the sights and smells of the land.
Freeing and exhilarating, he relished the feel of leaves and earth beneath his paws. The wolf had no responsibilities, didn’t have to visit a shrink to keep his job. The wolf had no scars, only thick fur. The wolf would never be tied down and helpless and vulnerable.
His wolf had power.
And if his wolf ever got his big paws on the demon wolf that tortured him as a man, that SOB would pay with Dale’s claws.
The wolf grinned as he ran with the night.
Chapter 3
A gentle breeze stirred the American flag hanging next to the front door. Everything about this house, from the bright white paint to the neat black shutters and the truck in the drive, seemed normal.
But nothing was normal, especially not the man living inside.
Keira took a deep breath and steadied her nerves. When the door opened, she gave a bright smile.
“I hope you like your coffee black. Because I took you for a black-coffee guy.”
She thrust a steaming coffee cup at the man in the doorway. Dale Curtis stood military straight in a starched khaki uniform, looking crisp and fresh and undeniably more handsome than a man should look at 0500 hours.
Those scrutinizing gray eyes showed a hint of a smile. “Thanks. Come in.”
Carrying her valise, Keira followed him to the kitchen. Tension knotted her stomach. His older friend, clearly a superior, had done some kind of odd mojo on her last night. She remembered nothing except that his smile had been kind.
Still, she couldn’t trust that the older man wasn’t setting her up, even though he whispered into her mind that she was safe now. Right. Nothing was safe anymore. Not since the Centurions had torn her world apart.
This arrangement troubled her. Living with him wasn’t on her agenda, but she needed to buck up his powers so he could destroy the Centurion demons. Keira suspected he hired her only to fulfill an obligation.
The commander set down the coffee, then sat on a wood stool at the breakfast nook. His penetrating gray gaze seemed to bore into her. For too long, she’d operated alone, avoiding others, especially men. This close proximity unnerved her. Dale Curtis studied her, as if puzzling out her real identity. Her hand trembled as she fumbled in her case. Not this soon. She needed time, needed to gain his trust. But instinct warned that was something this man did not easily give.
He glanced at his watch. “Let’s
