9. Allie
Allie
T he lightning strike hit so close I could smell the ozone in the air. Rain followed immediately, not the gentle drops that build gradually but a torrential downpour that soaked us both in seconds.
While my hair whipped around my face in the wind, Tressa howled and barreled into the gloomy interior.
“Get in,” Hail shouted over the thunder, grabbing my hand and pulling me in with him.
By the time he’d wrestled the shed door closed, we were both completely drenched.
Tressa shook water from her fur and gave us a perturbed look.
The shed was tiny, maybe eight by eight, and not only filled with various tools, but shelves also lined the sides, leaving only a small passage between them. Barely enough room for two people, let alone two people and a wolf the size of Tressa.
“Well,” I said, wringing water from my ponytail, “that escalated quickly.”
“Prairie storms don’t-don’t play.” Hail turned from securing the door.
My breathing came to a halt.
His shirt was plastered to his chest, outlining every muscle and every ridge of his powerful torso.
Water dripped from his dark hair onto his shoulders, and when he moved, I could see the play of strength beneath the wet fabric.
The green skin seemed richer when wet, and his tusks caught what little light filtered through the small window on the back wall.
He was beautiful in a way that made my chest tight and my pulse quicken.
And he was staring at me with the same intensity, his dark eyes roaming over my face and lower before snapping back up with visible effort.
I glanced down and realized my shirt had become basically transparent and clung to every curve. Heat flooded my cheeks and other places, but I didn’t have anything to cover myself with. More importantly, I found I didn’t want to cover myself. Not when he was looking at me like that.
“Sorry.” Hail’s voice came out as rough as stone. “I should…I should look away.”
“It’s okay.” Was that my voice sounding breathy? “We’re both adults.”
Thunder crashed overhead, making the shed shudder. The sound was so loud it vibrated through my bones, but I barely noticed. All my attention was focused on the way Hail was looking at me, like I was something wonderful and dangerous at the same time.
He took a step closer, and the shed suddenly felt even smaller. The air between us charged, going electric in a way that had nothing to do with the storm.
“Allie,” he said softly, and there was something in his voice that made my heart come to a halt.
“Yes?”
“I want to…I mean, would it be alright if I…”
Another lightning flash illuminated his face through the small window, and I saw uncertainty mixed with raw desire there.
I sensed this strong, gentle man who could shape clay into beauty was nervous about getting close to me.
The vulnerability in his expression and the way his hands flexed at his sides like he was fighting not to reach for me, made something hot and urgent unfurl in my belly.
My restraint collapsed.
Instead of answering with words, I moved toward him. The space was so small that one step brought me close enough to touch his chest, to feel the heat radiating from his skin despite his wet clothing. Close enough to see the way his pupils dilated when I placed my palm flat against his sternum.
His breath hitched at the contact. “Allie.”
“What did you want to say?”
He shook his head.
“There’s nothing you can’t tell me.”
“I…” He swallowed hard, and his predatory gaze dropped to my mouth. “I want to kiss you. If-if-if you-you-you want.”
My chest ached because he sounded so nervous.
“I think you should.”
“What?” he barked, his eyes widening.
“Kiss me. We should do it. Why not?” I tilted my face up to his.
His expression shifted, the uncertainty giving way to dark hunger. “I was trying to be a gentleorc.”
“I don’t want a gentleorc right now. I want to know what it feels like to kiss you.”
His hands came up to cup my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones with incredible gentleness. The contrast between his obvious restraint and the heat in his eyes made my knees quiver.
Then he was bending down, and I was rising on my toes, and our lips met in the space between.
Our kiss started soft, tentative, like he was still afraid I might change my mind. But when I made a small sound of encouragement, pressing closer to him, he deepened it. One hand slid into my wet hair while the other settled at the small of my back, pulling me against him.
His tusks should’ve made this awkward, but they didn’t. They were just part of him, part of what made him unique and wonderful. When I traced the edge of one with my tongue, he made a sound deep in his throat that sent fire straight through me.
I’d never been with anyone who wasn’t human, never even considered it before.
Yet with Hail, the differences between us felt like discoveries rather than barriers.
Each unfamiliar sensation, from the slight roughness of his skin against mine, to the strength in his hands as they held me, sent excitement through me.
It wasn’t despite his differences that I wanted him; it was because of them.
“Allie,” he breathed against my mouth, my name sounding like a prayer and a curse wrapped together.
I could feel his restraint in the careful way he held me and in the slow pace of his kisses. He was afraid of overwhelming me, afraid of wanting too much too fast. But I was past caring about caution.
Thunder boomed again, but this time I barely heard it. The whole world had narrowed to this moment, this male, this feeling of rightness that terrified me even as it pulled me under.
I was fighting the way my heart wanted to open to him, the way my body wanted to melt into his. I’d learned the hard way that caring about people only led to pain. But Hail made it impossible to keep those walls up. Every gentle touch and every reverent kiss chipped away at my defenses.
Before I could think better of it, I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him with all the desperation and longing I’d been trying to suppress.
He caught me, his hands spanning my waist as he lifted me off the ground without breaking the kiss. My legs wrapped around his hips, and he pressed me back against the wooden door, supporting me with his hands beneath my thighs.
This kiss was different. Hungry, urgent, full of all the things we hadn’t said to each other.
His mouth moved against mine with a passion that made my toes curl and my core clench with want.
His heart slammed beneath my palm, and I nearly swooned when he pressed the evidence of his desire against my groin.
He kissed me like he was falling, and I was the last bit of rope, like he’d been waiting his whole life just to touch me. When his tongue swept into my mouth, I arched against him, a moan escaping that he swallowed greedily.
“Fates, Allie,” he groaned, his lips moving to my throat. The feeling of his tusks grazing my skin sent fire down my spine. “You taste good. Feel good.”
He explored the sensitive skin of my neck with his lips and tongue, and the gentle scrape of his tusks sent me all the way to the moon and back. I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him to me, never wanting this to end.
But when his mouth found that spot where my neck met my shoulder, when he sucked gently at the skin there, reality crashed back in. This was moving fast. I was supposed to be protecting myself. Getting involved like this was dangerous for both of us.
Yet I couldn’t make myself stop.
When he lifted his head and looked down at me, his eyes had gone dark with want and something deeper. Seeing all those emotions there should’ve scared me but instead, it made me want to dive headfirst into whatever was growing between us.
“I should walk you back to the hotel.” His hands tightened on my thighs like he couldn’t bear to let me go.
“We could stay here. Wait out the storm.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them.
I felt his body’s response to the suggestion, pressing against the front of his pants and…vibrating? Nah, that couldn’t be right.
“That might not be a g-good idea,” he growled against my throat.
“Why not?”
“Holding you feels…like coming home.” His eyes flashed with heat, but he stepped back, giving us both enough space to breathe. “You don’t know what you-you do to me.”
“Tell me.”
For a moment, I thought he might. His lips parted, but vulnerability crossed his face. He shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair.
“The rain is still com-coming down hard.” He nodded toward the window.
I let him change the subject, sensing he needed the moment to collect himself. Outside, the rain continued its assault on the shed roof, a steady drumming that created a cocoon of intimacy around us.
Each flash of lightning through the window illuminated the strong lines of his jaw, the curve of his tusks, and the intensity in his eyes as they tracked my every movement.
Rumbles of thunder were followed by flickers of lightning through the small window. The storm seemed to be moving away.
“At least the floor’s dry,” I pointed out, dropping beside Tressa who’d laid across the back, below the window.
At least she wasn’t trembling or afraid.
Maybe, like me, she loved storms. There was something wildly electric about them that thrilled through me.
I used to watch them pass from my bedroom window when I was little.
Sad that I’d stopped doing that long ago.
After a pause, Hail settled beside me.
There wasn’t much room. My shoulder pressed against his elbow, making the difference in our sizes even more apparent. His hand was easily twice the size of mine, his thigh about the same. His bigness made me feel protected.
“You’re small,” he said, echoing my thoughts. His voice carried wonder, like he couldn’t quite believe I was real.
“You’re big.” I looked up at him. “Does our size difference bother you?”
“No.” He turned to face me more fully. Flames still flickered in his dark eyes. “Do you know what bo-bothers me?”
“What?”
“I want to kiss you again, and we’re st-st-stuck in a shed the size of a closet with my wolf watching us.”
Tressa thumped her tail without lifting her head off her front paws.
“She’s tactful,” I said.
“She’s judging me. I can tell.”
I laughed, the sound seeming to surprise both of us.
Here, in this tiny shed with Hail, I felt safe. Safer than I had in months.
The realization scared me. Safety was a mirage, a trap I’d fallen into before. Every time I’d let myself believe I was protected, I’d been proven wrong. Yet here it was, wrapping around me as surely as Hail’s arms had a short time ago.
He brushed something from my cheek. “Clay.” He showed me the smudge on his thumb.
The simple touch sent shivers through me. “I probably have it everywhere.”
“A little. It su-suits you.”
“Clay suits me?”
“Working with your hands suits you. Creating something beautiful suits you.” His soft, intimate voice felt like a caress. “Being here in Lonesome Creek suits you, m-most of all.”
My chest cracked wide open at his words. The walls I’d built around my heart were fragile. They might crumble at his slightest touch.
“Hail.” I bit my tongue to hold the words back. I wanted to tell him everything. About my father, about Will Carmichael, about the phone calls and the constant fear. But the words stuck in my throat.
“It’s alright,” he said, as if he could read my mind. “You don’t have to s-s-say anything until you’re ready.”
“What if I’m never ready?”
“Then you’re not. That doesn’t change anything between us.”
“How can you say that? You don’t know what I might be hiding.”
He was quiet for a moment, studying my face in the dim light. “You make me feel like I’m not alone anymore, and that’s enough. Whatever else there is, we’ll-we’ll figure it out.”
The certainty in his voice made my throat tighten. “You have too much faith in me.”
“You don’t have enough faith in yourself.”
A flash on my inner left wrist caught my eye, and I lifted my arm, frowning in the dim light. “What the…”
A golden mark had appeared there, like a tattoo drawn by an invisible hand. Circular, it was about the size of a quarter, with an intricate pattern in the center that looked Celtic.
I rubbed it with my fingers, but it didn’t smudge or fade.
It wasn’t just on my skin but seemed to glow from beneath it, as though it had always been there, waiting to emerge.
My heart raced with a mixture of fascination and alarm.
I’d never seen anything like it, yet somehow it felt familiar, like a word on the tip of my tongue. Or recognition. Belonging.
Hail stilled. When I looked up, his face had gone pale.
“This wasn’t there before,” I said. “What’s happening to me?”
He swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the mark. “Allie, I need to tell you something.”