She wondered why they were trying to convince her they weren't interested. It didn't actually make any sense. She didn't have any claim on them. Why would they let her get away with acting as if she did? She didn't think they'd allowed it strictly from a reluctance to behave as badly as she had—not for the sake of politeness.
She didn't know enough about any of them to understand their motives or even begin to. All she knew was that she was behaving pretty bizarre herself. She didn't have a particularly possessive nature ordinarily—
certainly
not enough to behave like a witch over guys she had no reason to consider ‘hers'. She supposed she didn't really need to to feel threatened by what she'd seen. She was attracted to the guys. Maybe what she'd felt was more in the nature of envy or crumpled ego? She was so much
older
than those girls!
The guys didn't actually make her feel that way, though, she realized in surprise.
Con had called her baby, she recalled, biting her lip in sudden amusement. She hadn't felt the least bit ridiculous at having a man easily five years younger than her, possibly—alright
probably
more like eight or ten—calling her baby, though. Far from it, she thought with a shiver of remembered passion. He'd made her feel beautiful and infinitely desirable. She'd been so delirious at the time, she'd hardly registered anything he'd said on a conscious level, but it had heightened her arousal, sent it through the roof. She almost thought he could've
talked
her through a climax.
It bothered her that she was behaving so uncharacteristically around the guys. Maybe she could put it down to hormones. Maybe it was a combination of factors. Maybe she had a wild streak she'd never consciously acknowledged but that had been there all along, only waiting for the right circumstances, or maybe the right man—correction men—to trigger it?
Without a doubt, they'd taken her on a wild rollercoaster ride of emotions she wasn't accustomed to dealing with.
She was still struggling with the insane idea of taking them up on those heated, hungry looks they sent her way when she knew she shouldn't even be considering a fling with one of them, let alone all of them.
Would Con be jealous, she wondered abruptly? Or would he consider it a matter of course? She didn't get the impression that they were a lot more familiar with each other than she was with them and that seemed to preclude the possibility that they'd ever shared a woman before—and she still got the impression that all of them fully intended to jump her bones if they got the chance. She could be wrong. Even if she wasn't, it didn't follow that there wouldn't be trouble.
Was that being conceited? Or realistic? Even if they did fight over her would it really have that much to do with her? Or would it just be a matter of claim jumping?
She didn't want them fighting for any reason that even remotely involved her.
If it was just a fling, though, what obligation did that put her under? There wasn't a relationship and there wasn't ever going to be one. In a few days, they'd move on and she'd never see any of them again. Even if they hung around,
she
would be leaving before much longer and she still wouldn't cross paths with them again.
It was that kind of thoughts, she realized wryly, that was leading her down the path of insanity. The fact that she wouldn't see them again and would never again have the opportunity for such a wild adventure was pushing her closer to taking a leap she would probably regret instead of steadying her.
Her preoccupation with her whining coochie had completely distracted her from everything else, she realized after a while, embarrassed to discover she'd dismissed both her reason for being in the area to start with and the supposed danger Balin and the others had implied.
Thinking it over didn't seem to be bringing her any closer to answers, though. She couldn't dismiss it entirely. There had been definite vibes of hostility when she'd been in town and the restlessness seemed to be growing. She'd noticed it from the time she'd arrived,
before
the biker gang, so she certainly couldn't put it all off on them. Maybe they were still partly to blame for it. She'd thought the whole town was unsettled by the wolf situation and resentful of an outsider being sent to ‘observe’ instead of wipe out the wolf population immediately. It didn't really make sense that that was entirely the problem, though. There hadn't been any more attacks reported since her arrival. They'd flatly denied anyone had been attacked
prior
to her arrival. Why would the tension be escalating unless it was from another source?
Why would the bikers not realize they were the cause, though? Surely, given their gang affiliation, or at least the appearance of it, they were used to people being put off by them?
What had Xavier almost told her that the others hadn't wanted him to tell her? The full moon thing? It was an absurd explanation for the strange way everybody seemed to be acting. They had to know she would dismiss it as ridiculous, but they hadn't wanted him to say it. Why?
Moving to her computer, she connected to the internet and cruised references to the full moon for a while and finally gave up when she didn't see anything that might reasonably explain his reference to it. Maybe they knew of something
planned
that was supposed to happen that night? A drug shipment? That seemed a little wild. She didn't really believe the bikers dealt in drugs. There was absolutely nothing she'd observed that supported that theory. Drug dealers
used
and she couldn't see any sign that they did.
Nothing else came to mind, though. She drew a perfect zero. If they'd been close to the coast she might have considered gun running, but they were a long way from
any
coast. Ditto regarding stolen cars, or any other kind of stolen merchandise. What could they steal around here? Dirt?
She was still convinced it must be
something
illegal.
So maybe she would just steer clear of town, even though she didn't like being
ordered
to?
Getting up from her computer, she went about gathering what she thought she'd need for her nightly attempt to track down the wolves and dropped the items in her bag. Relieved when she'd tiptoed out of the cabin to discover the bikers were no where in sight, she walked briskly toward the trail into the woods until she was out of sight of the cabins.
She hadn't been following the trail more than a few minutes when she heard the baying of wolves and it wasn't nearly far enough away for her comfort. Cold fear instantly washed over her like a tidal wave as the unbidden memory of how nearly she'd been attacked filled her mind. She'd been studiously trying
not
to remember how badly it had scared her because she didn't really have a choice about whether to do her job or not.
Freezing in her tracks, she began to search her bag frantically for her tranq pistol. Just about the time her fingers closed around it, though, it dawned on her that the baying hadn't just been close to start with. They were coming her way!
From both directions!
Unfortunately, she had already whirled around to run back toward the safety of the cabins before she realized the pack had split and she was caught between two converging groups. Her first indication that that was the case was when she caught the dim outline of shadowy shapes heading toward her. Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as adrenaline spurted through her. For a split second, she actually thought it was Con and the others—the racing group
seemed
to be running upright. Only a split second later, however, she realized it was only a trick of the shadows. It was definitely wolves bounding in her direction.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she plunged off the path, hoping against hope that they wouldn't give chase. She blundered through the thick undergrowth blindly. She didn't have her flashlight. She hadn't taken it out when she'd seen there was enough moonlight to guide her. She doubted, in any case, that it would do her much good. The trees and brush were too thick for the light to penetrate far, and she was moving too fast.
She had no idea where she was heading, no sense of direction, and hadn't really given any thought to
where
anyway. Behind her, she heard the wolves converge in a cacophony of savage snarling and growling that indicated a vicious fight. It did nothing to calm her. They seemed to be focused on one another at the moment but it didn't seem coincidental that she'd been trapped between the two groups. She almost felt as if they'd been trying to herd her, as if
she
was the prey.
Closing her mind to those thoughts, she battled her way through the thick trees until she emerged on the bank of the lake, almost falling in before she realized she'd left the forest. Panting for breath, she glanced around to get her bearings and finally followed the bank in the direction that she thought led back to the camp. The sounds of a fierce battle dogged her steps, pushing her to move as fast as she could and ignore the sting from a multitude of scrapes and bruises, the cramp in her side, the pain from a twisted ankle. Relief filled her when she discovered she'd chosen the right direction and finally reached the clearing around the campgrounds.
Huffing for breath, as much from fear as the excursion, she limped as quickly toward her cabin as she could. The snarling and growling of the fight had ceased. She heard the wolves racing through the woods, uttering a howl from time to time. She couldn't resist throwing a panicked glance over her shoulder from to time. A huge black wolf broke through the underbrush near where she'd emerged only moments before. Sucking in a sharp breath, Danika hobbled faster, almost leaping up the steps to her cabin when she reached them. Racing across the porch, she jerked her door open and slammed it behind her. She bolted it for good measure as she heard the heavy thud of someone, or more likely, some
thing
landing on the porch.
The door knob rattled, sending a jolt of terror through her.
"Open the door, Dani!” Balin growled.
Knee weakening relief swept through her. She almost broke a nail unbolting the door, threw it open, and then launched herself at Balin, clinging to him. “They chased me!” she gasped, struggling with the urge to burst into tears.
Balin moved inside, slamming the door behind him. “You're
damned
lucky that's all that happened!” he growled furiously.
Stunned, Danika pulled away to look up at him, noticing for the first time as her gaze skimmed upward that he'd looked as if
he
had been attacked. He was bare chested. Dimly, she realized he didn't have
any
clothes on, but she didn't have time to fully assimilate that. Blood oozed from what looked like a vicious bite on his shoulder and from claw marks across his chest, arms, and one cheek. The look in his eyes was ... wild.
She'd barely managed to register any of that, though, when he shoved her none too gently against the door he'd just slammed closed. Fisting one hand in her hair, he dragged her head back, grinding his hips against hers to pin her to the door. Her scalp stung, but she was so surprised she didn't even attempt to struggle, yielding to his pull readily enough to prevent more than a warm tingling. Even if had actually hurt, she wasn't certain she would've been aware of it for more than a moment since he followed the movement of her head, covering her mouth with his the instant her lips parted in stunned surprise.
Balin's claiming was almost more of an assault than a caress. The hard pressure of his mouth on hers seemed equal parts punishment and blind, ravening need that precluded any awareness of the possibility that he might be inflicting pain, and yet as rough as his caress was, he didn't—not that she was aware of.
She
was
aware of the moist heat of his mouth, the savage, untamed taste of Balin that reached through her with each stroke of his tongue along hers like tendrils of fire and lightning, boiling her blood in her veins and setting every nerve ending to sizzling and crackling with energy and keen sensation. She felt their mutual need give rise to a wave of heat that rose between them, enveloping them in a cloud of desire. She keenly perceived the size and strength of Balin's hands that held her tightly to him, the breadth of his shoulders, the massive hardness of his chest and the thick root of his manhood pressing rhythmically against her mound.