“Uh-huh.” She ran a shaking hand through her hair. “Same old, same old.”
Since the accident that had stolen her memory almost two years earlier, she’d been having nightmares. Or, more specifically, the same nightmare over and over. Strangely though, it had nothing to do with the crash that nearly killed her. Had killed her in fact. She’d died on the operating table three times, but twice the trauma team had managed to bring her back.
The third time, it hadn’t been the skill of the doctors that saved her. Instead the latent lycanthrope blood she’d inherited from her father kicked in and transformed her from a ‘potential’ into full-blown wolf. One of the few full-on female wolves in their pack.
Her mother moved into the room, coming to sit on the bed next to her. Gently she drew Sax into her arms, holding her as though she were still a child and all hurts could be eased with a cuddle and a mother’s love. Sax leaned her forehead on her shoulder and let out a sigh. If only it were that easy.
The accident had lasting effects, other than her transformation. She’d lost her memory of the last seven or so years. The last thing she remembered was thinking about going in the army, then…nothing. Her parents told her she’d tanked the entrance assessments, which had surprised her considering how fit she’d been, still appeared to be, but they had no reason to lie to her.
Since then she’d worked in her parent’s hardware store, a job she’d gone back to after the accident, even if it didn’t seem ‘right’. She’d never told them that, the same as never admitting the nightmare wasn’t about the accident, when a semi had plowed into the side of the car she’d been traveling in, killing her two best friends and leaving Sax clinging to life by a thread.
But instead of visions of trucks bearing down on her, and the scream of metal as the car broke apart, her nightmares were about soldiers and explosions. About being caught in a fire fight and running out of ammunition, bullets flying by her head as she tried to take cover. About blood and body parts on the sand, and a guy. Well, lots of guys, but one stood out. With piercing blue eyes and dark hair, he had to be the most attractive man she’d ever seen. Dressed in combat clothing, and carrying a rifle, he yelled orders despite the chaos going on around him. Even in the dream she was drawn to him, couldn’t stop watching him. Even when the dream began to break up, blood and fire consuming her as it always did, she saw his face, contorted in pain as though he watched everything that mattered to him disappear.
Drawing a shaky breath, she put the image of her dream guy’s face from her mind. She had no clue who he was, or what sparked the strange dream. Just her luck that the one guy she found attractive was not only human, but a frigging dream to boot.
“It’ll pass,” her mother murmured, voice soft as she rubbed Sax’s arm. “I promise. Time heals all wounds, even the ones we can’t see. You going to be okay now? You need some rest for tomorro—hmm.”
“Tomorrow?” she asked. “Why…what’s happening tomorrow?”
She leaned back. Her mom’s face had gone beet red,
“Your father invited Robert to lunch tomorrow.” Despite her soft voice, worry seeped from her mom’s pores. “It’ll be good for you, love, to get to know him a bit. You have a—”
She held up her hand. She’d had this lecture lord knew how many times. “I know, I know. I have a responsibility to the pack. Yadda yadda. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Please be nice. For me?” her mother begged. “We’re a small pack and the Culsons are much more powerful. A link would benefit us all…you know it would.”
“I know, Mom.” She sighed and nodded. No way out if it. Even if she did think Robert was a jumped-up mommy’s boy convinced of his own self-importance, she still had to play the game. Toe the line. Make nice. Shit. “I’ll be good, promise.”
She beamed and dropped a kiss on Sax’s temple. “Thank you, sweetie. Now, you get some sleep. Night night.”
“Sure. Night, Mom.”
She flopped back on the bed, watched her close the door behind her, then waited for the footsteps along the landing. As soon as her parents’ door clicked shut, she slid out of bed and pushed the power button for her laptop. She might have to play nice for Robert the next day, but that didn’t mean she had to be a total angel.
The screen flicked on and she opened a browser, searching for the link she’d saved earlier. Some one-night stand service….
“Madame Eve,” she muttered, inputting her requirements, describing the guy from her dream. “I really hope you’re as good as they say you are. Because this is going to take a miracle.”
Then she hit submit.
Chapter Two
He shouldn’t be there.
Guilt beat at Barrett as he stared out over the twinkling lights of the city below him without seeing them. To his left in the corner of the balcony, a dinner table was set for two, both seats currently unoccupied. Silverware sparkled in the soft candlelight and a breeze rustled the white linen tablecloth, carrying the scent of the roses in the centerpiece across the balcony to him. Soft music played in the background, something classical with pianos and violins, totally different to the heavy rock music he’d listened to for the last year.
All in all, a scene set for romance and seduction. The perfect location for the one-night stand his meddling little sister had arranged for him. A wry snort of amusement escaped him. Since he’d started this by setting her up, turnabout was fair play.
But he really shouldn’t be there.
He turned, leaning back against the railing to glance inside. Lifting his glass, he knocked back the couple of inches of whiskey left, hissing when it burned all the way down to his gut. He had to admit, when it came to luxury, Madame Eve didn’t pull her punches. He’d been given a plush suite in one of the best hotels in town. With the name Castillo over the door, it would be. Even Barrett, who’d never given two hoots about five-star luxury and penthouses, found himself impressed by the Castillo hotels. Although he never thought he’d end up in one waiting for a woman to show up for a one-night stand.
What the f**k am I doing?
A frustrated growl escaped him as he shoved a hand through his short hair. It had grown out from the buzz cut he’d been keeping it in since leaving the army, and curled around his fingers like a jealous lover. He stopped and grimaced. He had orders from Mel to ‘look nice or else’ and mussed hair was so not going to cut it. At least he’d made an effort and shaved his beard off. Every time a cool breeze hit his face, it felt weird, as though he were nak*d. But not as weird as the prospect of talking to…hav**g s*x with….
He swore, blunt soldier’s curses falling from his lips.
He shouldn’t be there. It’s too soon after Saxon.
Guilt and shame warred within him. The docs insisted he should be getting over the worst of the grief by now. That he needed to move on, not forgetting the love he’d had for Sax, but savor it as a fond memory instead. Fond memory, his ass. It still felt like his heart had been ripped clean from his chest, the raw edges mangled and bloody. Agitation rose to fill him with energy and he pushed off from the balcony rail to stride into the room.
Dropping the empty glass on the table, he grabbed his phone. It was no good, he couldn’t do it. He’d ring Madame Eve…oh shit, no. He couldn’t. All contact via e-mail. He should have remembered that from when he set Mel up with her one-night stand. Hand shaking, he swiped at the screen on his phone. If he could get an email off to Madame Eve, perhaps his date could be contacted before she arriv—
Knock knock.
He froze at the soft sound, index finger poised over the screen. Shit, she’s here. He glared at the door as though it were a creature from a nightmare. Fuck, what should he do? Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath and opened them again.
Okay. It didn’t matter who the woman on other side of the door turned out to be. It made no difference if she was a walking wet-dream, he couldn’t do it. He didn’t want a tall, leggy supermodel or the ultimate fantasy, he wanted small, curvy and sassy. He wanted Sax and always would.
Putting the phone back on the table, he strode across the room, his decision made. He’d let the poor girl in, explain the situation, then leave. She could have the room for the night and he’d reimburse Madame Eve whatever costs were necessary so his date wouldn’t be out of pocket. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. She expected a night of romance and…. He cut the rest of the thought off. Not her fault he couldn’t go through with it.
Approaching the door, he paused for a second in front of it, hand flat on the smooth, cool wood. His heart ached, throbbing as a pang of longing filled him. He’d heard stories of Madame Eve’s abilities, whispered rumors of more-than-human abilities spanning time and space that she brought to bear to create a perfect match. Why couldn’t…. He sighed. Time and space, but not death itself, and the last time he checked, the Grim Reaper didn’t run a matchmaking service.
He reached for the door handle.
Time to face the music.
***
Oh my god, she’d actually gone and done it. She was really here.
Sax dropped her hand from the door and straightened her dress. Her heart hammered, anticipation and nerves sending the organ in to overdrive to match the butterflies racing each other around her stomach. Who knew it could be both so easy and so frigging difficult to sort out a one-night stand?
The service—and Madame Eve—had been fantastic, and arranging it all through email rather than over the phone made things so much easier. Since her email was locked down six ways to Sunday, and had been since she’d caught her father snooping around her laptop six months ago, she’d been able to sort things out without her parents knowing. They were so intent on her ‘getting to know Robert’ and uniting the packs through their mating, she’d been surprised her family hadn’t stripped the pair of them nak*d and locked them together in a room overnight already.
“Gah!” She shuddered, a wave of rejection clomping down her spine in hobnail boots. Robert wasn’t unattractive. He was attractive, in that cookie-cutter, jock sort of way. She didn’t want cookie-cutter, or the jock type. She wanted lean and mean, a soldier-type with short hair, scars…. She closed her eyes for a second and shivered as the face of her dream-guy filled her mind.
She wanted blue eyes, and human, not a wolf. Not Robert. And when she got back home, she would tell her parents as much. Yeah, she knew the issues with the packs, but it wasn’t the frigging dark ages for heaven’s sake. Women, even wolf-women, were not bartered in marriage anymore.
Where the hell was this guy?
She frowned and studied the still-closed door. Reception said her date had already arrived and told her to come right on up. Opening the slip of paper in her hand, she checked the room number, glancing up and down the corridor to check the adjacent numbers. On the top floor of the small, but luxurious little hotel there weren’t many. Yeah, right room. So what gave?