Dreaming of the Wolf (Heart of the Wolf #8)(42)

He lay there for some time, and at first she thought her dream lover had fallen asleep, but then he lifted his head, sighed, and rolled off her, then pulled her into his arms and held her tight. He kissed the top of her head, caressing her arm with a soft touch. He’d kiss her and caress her and nap and take her again and again all night long, and by morning, he’d be gone, and she’d still miss him. Until the night returned.

She’d started taking naps during the day to manage the nights. But a vaguely ominous worry crept into the dream. She couldn’t shake loose of the feeling that Jake was in danger—and all because of her.

But then something else seized her attention. A sound. Not a key, but… something… like… the sound of a plastic card being slipped between the doorjamb and the door with a hard whooshing, sliding sound.

Like someone was trying to break into her room.

Chapter 10

Alicia was cloaked in the warmth of her dream state, still wrapped in Jake’s arms when he turned to look at the rickety motel-room door that could easily have been shattered with a swift booted kick. His hand froze in midcaress along Alicia’s arm, as if he could recognize that someone was trying to break into her room. Then he set Alicia aside, climbed out of bed, and stalked toward the door like her knight without his armor.

For a second, she didn’t know what to do. Get dressed, her mind shouted at her. Get her gun, do something—before Jake is killed.

Her heart had picked up into a flight-or-fight mode, and the adrenaline was already pouring through her veins. But she couldn’t move. She was frozen in place, only able to stare at him and at the door.

Then she felt her mind awakening. She was still in a dream. Jake wasn’t really here!

Still half-asleep, she tried to break free of the dreamy fog that shrouded her mind. If she didn’t fully wake from the dream, whoever was trying to break into the scuzzy room would be in soon, and she could be in real danger.

Unless… she sighed deeply… that was only part of the dream.

The card scraping between the door and frame sounded louder, more urgent, and she opened her eyes in disbelief. She sat up in bed, pulling completely free of the dream, and found herself alone, but the plastic card continued to jerk up and down in the doorjamb in an attempt to disengage the lock.

Heart pounding as if she was running a race, she quickly considered her options as she thrust her covers aside and got out of bed.

If she turned into the wolf, she could face the would-be intruder with a set of frighteningly wicked canines. He’d most likely believe she was someone’s guard dog. And run like hell. Or she could get her gun, which she was still licensed to carry. But it was in her bag on the other side of the room. She might not be able to shift. She’d never tried to force herself to shift into the wolf, only to shift back into her human form. That knowledge sent a prickle of worry skittering over her skin.

Naked, she sprinted across the room, only to reach her bag when the lock clicked open on the door. Thoroughly immobilized, she shifted her gaze to the doorknob. And prayed her ability to shift would kick in.

To her profound relief, she felt the shift coming on. With heat suffusing every cell, her bones and skin and muscles painlessly melted into what felt like heated taffy—like her grandmother, God rest her soul, had made when she lived with Alicia and her mother.

In the next instant, Alicia was standing as a gray wolf next to a small dresser, her fur fluffed in offensive mode to make her appear larger and more threatening, her ears twitching back and forth, listening for every sound the intruder made, her tail straight out, her eyes focused on the door, her mouth still closed. She backed even farther into the dark corner.

A human couldn’t see her in the lightless room. Not unless light reflected off her eyes. And then? Her eyes could appear to glow yellow, green, or even red, she’d noticed when she’d glanced in a mirror one night and thought, “How cool.”

But she’d never bitten a human before, or a wolf for that matter, and the only notion she had was that she’d snarl and growl and look threatening. If he had a gun, though, would he be all that scared?

Getting shot didn’t appeal. They’d broken Ferdinand’s neck, so she knew she could die in more ways than just by a silver bullet. She laughed at herself over that. Would a silver bullet really kill, or was that strictly fantasy?

She remained quiet and watched, seething that this creep would break into her room. Yet it reminded her of the thugs who’d come to Ferdinand’s apartment, threatened him, and then killed him. Killed the other man he knew, too. If they had known she was there in his apartment, hiding under the bed, she was certain she would have faced the same death.

The door remained closed while her heart pounded pell-mell. What was he waiting for? Was he afraid? Waiting to see if she responded with a phone call to 9-1-1?

She glanced at her phone. Still charging. But if it had a partial charge, she could still use it.

The door opened just a hair, then farther, with no squeaking, no sound, except that she could hear heavy breathing and hearts pounding, both hers and his. He was scared. As much as she hated to admit it, so was she.

The door opened a little wider. A pinprick of illumination poked into the blackness from a flashlight. The lamp on the outside wall appeared to be out. It hadn’t been when she’d checked into her room, so the intruder must have knocked it out and was working virtually blind.