Chapter 3

Dr. Nash's voice was a monotone in my ear. I hadn't slept well, and my eyelids weighed a hundred pounds.

"Lexi." Iza's voice invaded my dream.

I jumped in my seat, and my eyes snapped open. As I rubbed the back of my neck, I glanced around the auditorium, hoping I hadn't drawn any attention.

No such luck.

Iza leaned over in her chair, her forehead wrinkled. "Are you all right?"

"Um… Yeah."

She looked as if she didn't believe me, which was dead on.

I'd been dreaming about Mr. Motorcycle for four weeks, since I'd met him. Now my dreams were escaping the night, sneaking into the daytime, manifesting at inopportune times.

"She's laying out the exam. Pay attention." Iza pointed to the page number in her book, so I could catch up.

"Got it." I dropped my pen. It rolled off my desk onto the floor and two aisles up, making more noise than necessary. Everyone turned to stare at me, and Dr. Nash stopped lecturing.

I slumped down in my chair. I wanted to crawl under it but managed to stay put.

"Is something wrong?" Iza didn't turn her face toward me.

"I need a pen."

She reached into her bookbag and handed me one. Finally, everyone turned back to Dr. Nash.

I had to get it together. Daydreaming wouldn't get me through medical school.

After five hours of grueling lecture, we strolled into the parking garage. Iza hit a button on her remote keyless entry, and the lights on a bright blue Mercedes convertible roadster flashed. "You want to tell me why you're dozing off in lecture?"

I was too embarrassed to tell her I'd been daydreaming about a guy I didn't even know. "Just tired, I guess."

"Maybe I should take you home."

We'd spent every night for a month studying and rewriting notes at the library. I hadn't gotten in bed before midnight since we'd started our study group. "No, we'll get behind."

"You sure?"

I nodded.

She backed out of the parking space with more thrust than necessary, then gave me a mischievous grin. "Hold on."

The powerful engine accelerated. Wind whipped my hair behind me, as we flew down the road.

"How about some music?" She punched a button on the steering wheel, and the gothic rock riffs of my favorite band—Immortal Evermore—blared through the stereo system.

"Awesome band." I drummed my fingers on the dash in rhythm to the music, while Iza sang.

"I saw them in concert last year. Oldest brother took me for my birthday."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Three. I'm the baby, which they never let me forget." Her lips pinched together.

"I bet your parents appreciate them looking out for you."

Iza turned down the stereo. "My parents died when I was seven."

My mouth went dry, and my lips tightened into a frown. We'd been studying together everyday, even on weekends, but we hadn't talked about our families before.

There was a cold, burning sensation in my chest, like my heart had been sprayed with liquid nitrogen, as I recalled being told my parents were dead. Children shouldn't know about death, not at the tender age of six. Yet, we had both experienced death prematurely.

"I'm sorry." I understood her pain better than anyone, but sorry was all I could offer. It was the only sentiment that had mattered to me.

"I dealt with it a long time ago." She went quiet. Her mouth pressed into a hard line.

"How'd they die, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Home invasion in the middle of the night."

Chills pricked the nap of my neck. What were the chances?

"My memories are foggy. My brothers' memories are very vivid, and they had nightmares for years. I was lucky."

"You were home?" My hands knotted in my lap. How horrific. Had she heard their last breaths? Had she seen them die?

"Yes, we all were." She parked and shut off the engine.

I'd always imagined that my mother's death was quick and painless, because that was what I'd been told. I knew nothing else. But Iza knew, had probably heard, maybe had seen, her mother's pain. No words could take that torment away.

She's stronger than she looks, and I'm a pathetic mess.

We were both quiet, as we entered the coffee shop, The Grind, and sat at a table near the window.

"Surviving isn't always ideal." Iza's voice was flat, devoid of emotion, and ghosts danced behind her eyes. "What the intruders did to my brothers was brutal. Justin, my oldest brother, has symbols carved into his arms, reminders of the thing he'd most like to forget. Riley has a brand on his shoulder, and Connor…"

She stopped talking as the waitress approached.

I ordered a strawberry smoothie, and Iza asked for a caramel mocha latte with extra whipped cream.

The waitress left.

"It took years of therapy to get past the fear ingrained in me from that night. My brothers dealt with it in their own ways." The corner of Iza's mouth turned up.

That's funny? Obviously, there was some inside joke concerning her brothers' therapy.

Her autobiography was more tragic than mine. She'd been shown the darker side of life, and it'd changed her, but it hadn't broken her. If only I had her resilience.

"What about your parents?" She sipped her latte.

I fiddled with the straw in my smoothie. I didn't want to answer. My wounds still felt fresh, barely knitted together. I only managed to keep them closed with a patchwork of denial and avoidance. But how could I avoid the question without being rude?

I couldn't.

I opened and closed my mouth three times before I actually spoke. "They're dead. Died when I was six."

A myriad of emotions glided across her face, shock the most prominent. She reached over and took my hand. "Oh, Lexi. We are a pair."

I slid my hand out from under hers. Touch could pull emotions right out of a person, and I was dangerously close to tears already.

"I'm sorry." She folded her hands in her lap. "You have an older brother?"

"Aiden. He was thirteen." I picked at the napkin on the table in front of me. "He was home. I was at a friend's house."

"How did it happen?"

Her stare made my skin feel heavy. "Home invasion. I don't have the details."

"So who raised you?"

"We lived in an orphanage about a year then with foster families until Aiden turned eighteen."

She drew in a sharp breath. "You mean your family didn't take you in?"

"We don't have any other family. My parents were only children, and our last grandparent died the year before."

Saying it out loud made me realize how abandoned I felt and how much I resented having to live with those horrible foster families. I knew it was written on my face. Hiding feelings wasn't something I was good at, but I hoped she wouldn't notice.

Her peridot-colored eyes filled with unshed tears. I looked away.

"Lexi, I understand. It's just my brothers and me, us against everything and everyone."

The conversation had to stop. It was too much tension applied to barely-healing scars. Tears viscously stung my eyes. The moisture shoved against my eyelids, trying to force its way out. I couldn't cry. She'd think I was a complete head case.

"Lexi?" she whispered.

I stared out the window, avoiding her sympathetic gaze. My palms pressed against the tabletop. Her hand slid across the table, making contact with my left wrist. "Is this your mother's?"

I snatched my hand as tears fell, the soft tinkling of my mother's bracelet filling the air. I pushed away from the table. My chair crashed to the floor, then I bolted out the door.

"Wait."

I didn't. I couldn't.

I ran fast and hard, tears streaming down my face. I wasn't sure where I was going, but it didn't matter. I had to get away from her.

It wasn't Iza's fault. I was usually good at keeping the loneliness suppressed. I'd been doing it for years, but she'd called my bluff without even meaning to.

I didn't slow until I saw the small clearing near the school, where the woods touched the edge of campus. It was a quiet getaway, my sanctuary. I eased through the stone archway and grazed my fingers over the columns as I entered the sitting area.

Blue flowers and aggressive-looking vines outlined the small clearing. Concrete tables and benches sat deserted. Worn cobblestones, nearly concealed by overgrowth, were at the back of the area, and tree branches grew together across the entrance to a path the wilderness attempted to reclaim.

I hadn't been down the hidden footpath since the wolf attack. I flicked the trigger of my pepper spray, which I now carried religiously in my pocket. I wasn't going to let a random wolf attack stop me from visiting my haven when I needed its calming effects, and I was ready in case he returned.

If I give into my fear, I'm a pathetic mess AND a coward. I swallowed the swelling mass in my throat. I'm no chicken.

I snapped off several limbs to clear the way. The cracks echoed loudly through the quiet. The remaining branches scraped my arms and snagged my hair, as I pushed through them and stepped onto the path.

Slippery moss covered stones under my feet, forced me to walk slowly, adroitly, as the path twisted into the woods. Tree branches crossed overhead, forming a canopy of leaves that blocked most of the sunlight, allowing shadows to creep all around. I gripped my pepper spray tighter and ignored the shadows.

With cautious steps, I inched toward the end of the path, where golden light assaulted my eyes. My hands shielded them, as I stepped out of the darkness, but they adjusted quickly. The beautiful field stretched out like a green sea. The breeze picked up, and grass rippled like waves. I waded into the center, then turned, taking in the panorama.

The sentinel-like oak trees enclosing the field were comforting—offering privacy from the world. I sat under a huge lone willow tree, then put my head on my knees. What was Iza thinking? Most likely, that I was a manic-depressive nut.

Maybe I am.

I still missed my parents terribly. The psychologists said I emotionally relived their deaths every day. All I knew was I felt internally broken and perpetually lonely.

Aiden didn't understand. He'd told me to try building model cars. It had worked for him, but it was something he and our father had done together. I'd tried to remember a hobby I'd shared with my mom, but I couldn't. She was always busy.

Maybe there was something wrong with my brain. Aiden said I needed to find something that would make everything click for me. Only problem, I was beginning to believe that thing didn't exist.

I had things I was grateful for. Stuff that made me feel accomplished and fortunate, but those feelings were fleeting. Accomplishments couldn't bring my parents back. They were just distractions.

I took several slow, deep breaths and dried my eyes. There was no time in medical school for blubbering. So, with a final cleansing breath, I locked my feelings back into their tiny box.

"Hey, Red."

I jumped at the sound of the male voice. I looked up, my mouth gapping. With my head on my knees, I hadn't seen him approaching.

It was him. Mr. Motorcycle, and here I was sniveling.

"Didn't mean to startle you. Everything ok?"

I wiped my face, then swiped my moist palms down my jeans. He was even tall when he kneeled. He had distinct features, and his reddish-brown eyes were like pools of cognac amber that I wanted to fall into. Black hair hung to his jawline, which was straight and strong. His dark T-shirt clung to his sinewy chest, and his jeans hugged all the right places. He was powerfully built and much more beguiling in real life.

"I'm fine." I lied. I slid up the tree, until I stood on my feet, my back pressed against the willows trunk. I reached around to my can of pepper spray. He might've been the protagonist featured in my recurrent dream, but he was a stranger, and I wasn't taking any chances.

"If this is what you call fine, I'd hate to see you when you're not." He motioned to the can behind my back. "And you don't need that."

"So says the stranger who wandered up."

"I mean no harm. I was passing through, not stalking."

"Stalking?" My eyebrows rose. Why was he talking about stalking?

"We met the other day." He cocked his head to the side, and his eyes narrowed. "At the gas station?"

"I remember." Boy, did I remember. If he knew about my dreams, he'd have accused me of stalking him. "You loosened my gas cap."

"So what are you doing out here?" He sat, reclined onto his elbow, and picked at the grass.

Man, he was beautiful. Calling a guy beautiful sounded wrong, very un-masculine, but in his case, it was the only suitable word.

"I needed a moment."

"With such a pretty face, you shouldn't cry." He leaned forward, placed a finger under my chin, and lifted my gaze. "You need to stop acting like a child."

I shook his touch away, and my hand clenched around the pepper spray. "Just who do you think you are? You walk up, scaring me half to death, then you insult me. Nice manners."

"Vincent Archer, and you are?" He held out his hand.

I didn't shake it.

He retracted his hand. "Speaking of manners."

"Lexi."

"Lovely name for an exquisite girl." A smile curled the corners of his lips.

"I'm not sure I should be talking to you." My thumb flicked the safety on and off of the pepper spray. We were alone in a field surrounded by woods.

"I haven't done anything to prove I can't be trusted," he said in a steady monotone, like he was trying to calm me. Or hypnotize me. Either way, his sultry voice was irresistible.

His eyes, those lips, and that voice, I couldn't resist. "No, you haven't."

My muscles relaxed as some, not all, of the tension left my body.

"I was hiking through the woods." He gestured to the edge of the trees. "I saw you sitting here, crying. What could make such a pretty girl cry so hard? I'm guessing a guy."

"It isn't a guy." My voice was sharp and clipped.

He held his hands up defensively. "Sorry. Figured your boyfriend dumped you or something. Most girls get all worked up over that."

"I don't have a boyfriend." I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the tree trunk. "I'm in medical school. It's stressful."

"No boyfriend, huh. Then when do I get to take you to dinner?"

"You don't. I—"

"You really are gorgeous. I didn't pay close enough attention at the gas station."

My cheeks flamed as part of my dream flashed in my memory—the part where he kissed me. I banished it immediately.

"Let me take you to dinner." His eyes were nearly liquid gold in the fading sunlight.

"I don't know you." I brushed off my jeans, as nervous energy webbed-out under my skin.

He rose and stretched.

"Come on. I promise I don't bite. Much." His smile widened, exposing a perfect set of white teeth.

I'd heard him use that line before, in my dream.

"Still staying with no." I headed toward the path.

"Where are you going?" He jogged to catch up to me. His hand grabbed mine, but I pulled away.

I held up the pepper spray as a warning.

He took a step back. "What if I tell you something about myself?"

"You can try, but I'm pretty sure my answer won't change."

"Can't blame me for trying." He winked.

I rolled my eyes, then made for the path. He was just like he was in my dream. Persistent. "You're trouble."

"You know it. Steer clear, or I might take you down with me."

Before I reached the path, dark gray clouds moved into the sky, and the wind picked up.

"Where'd you park?" He reached for my hand again.

I tucked it behind my back. "The parking garage on campus. I walked here."

He glanced at the sky. "My bike's parked at the entrance. I'll take you to your car."

"No."

"You're going to walk in the rain?"

"It's not raining." Raindrops hit my forehead and arms. Really? The Fates were always against me.

Vin's eyebrows rose in question.

I looked at my pepper spray can. I'd spray his ass and run if he tried anything. Certainly, if he were going to kill or rape me, he would've done it already.

"Ok, but you take me directly to my car, and if you try anything—"

"I know. I'll get the mace." He held up his hands like I had a gun on him. "I promise, I'll take you straight there."

The rain came down harder as we reached the cobblestone path. Vin ran ahead. I walked. As soon as my feet hit the wet, moss-covered stones, I slipped but somehow maintained my balance. I inched up the path. Vin darted this way and that with natural ease, never faltering on the precarious surface.

He was halfway to the entrance. How was he not busting his ass?

Vin turned and was coming back. "You need some help?"

I glanced down and carefully stepped on the less moss-covered stones, trying not to fall. It was taking forever, and I was getting soaked. "I'm ok. Just have to go slow."

A growl resonated through the air. I looked up.

In the middle of the pathway, between Vin and I, the black wolf stood, his wet onyx coat shining like shimmering nail polish. His hackles were raised, and his muzzle peeled off his teeth, exposing his sharp canines.

I froze.

I'd seen him three times now. When the gray wolf attacked me, the day I'd sat in my car at the bank crying, and the day I received the scholarship. Why did he keep appearing?

Vin moved toward me and another growl ripped from the animal's muzzle. My heart rate doubled.

I glanced into the woods, searching frantically for the other wolf. There was a reason the onyx-colored wolf was here. But what was it?

"You shouldn't be here." Vin, who'd taken the words from my mouth, took a step forward. The wolf snarled, then leapt, snapping its teeth, as it landed directly in front of him.

I choked back a scream, my hand over my mouth. Oh! It was after Vin.

"Lexi. Don't. Move." Vin's words came out through clenched teeth.

I had no intention of moving, but the wolf loped in my direction. I ran backward and slipped, falling onto my butt. My pepper spray flung into some bushes. The wolf circled me twice. I didn't breath. Then it faced Vin.

Vin moved toward me. The wolf clawed the ground, snarling, warning him to stay back.

He reached into his leather jacket, producing a large knife, which flicked open at his touch. I wasn't sure what frightened me more, the wolf or that Vin had a knife.

Vin's muscles corded as he planted his feet wide. "Someone is going to get hurt here, if you don't leave."

He was talking to the wolf.

"Seriously? You can't reason with a wild animal."

The rain fell harder as the standoff dragged on. When Vin tried to approach me, the wolf lunged at him, and I sat motionless. His plan wasn't working.

Why was the wolf here? Each time it had appeared before, I'd been frightened, upset. This time, I'd been uneasy about… Vin. It was protecting me from him.

"Vin, just go."

"What?" His eyebrows shot up, and he made another move toward me, which elicited a snarl from the wolf.

"Trust me. I'll be fine."

"But…" He looked from the wolf to me. "Are you sure?"

I gulped down the lump in my throat. "Yes. Go."

He backed up the path until he was out of sight. The wolf didn't move, at first. Then it turned and stared at me, its eyes an incandescent green.

My palms pressed against the stones, and every muscle in my body tensed as I waited for it to leave. The wolf was near enough to touch, and I wanted to run my fingers through its thick coat. This beautiful creature was guarding me. He had defended me against the gray wolf. He wasn't dangerous. He was extraordinary.

I reached out, but the wolf moved away. He let out a soft whine, then darted into the woods.

I got to my feet, searched in the bushes around the path, and recovered my pepper spray.

By the time I got to the sitting area, I was drenched. Water dripped off the ends of my hair and the tip of my nose. I needed a hot shower.

I walked through the concrete archway and was surprised to see Vin waiting next to his motorcycle.

"You all right?" He shrugged out of his black leather jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Grateful, I pushed my arms into the sleeves, and he zipped it closed. "Yeah. It ran off after you left."

"Strange." He mounted the bike and held out his hand. "Let's get you out of the rain."

I took his hand and threw my leg over the bike behind him. Once I was settled into place, I swathed my arms around his waist.

"I like this. You having to hold on tight." He winked at me over his shoulder. "You like it. Admit it."

"What I'd like is to get dry."

He jump-started the bike. The engine vibrated under me, then we flew onto the road. I didn't look to see how fast we were going, just buried my head in his back and closed my eyes tight. The wind rushed through my hair, whipping it out behind me.

With my body pressed against him, my dream returned to me, playing like a movie in my mind. I could feel his kiss, his touch. The only thing between my fingers and his bare skin was a flimsy cotton T-shirt. My breathing spiked.

"You good back there?"

"I'm fine." I was better than fine. My arms were wrapped securely around my dream made-flesh.

"I like you clinging to me this way, but look around. It's like you're flying."

I sat up and gazed over his shoulder. The road flew by. Cool wind and raindrops stung my face, but he was right. I was flying. My adrenalin surged and I let out a little yowl. Vin laughed.

I let go and stuck my arms straight out to the sides. I threw my head back. The positioning and lack of ability to see caused a feeling like falling. I felt free.

"Liked that?" After we pulled into the parking garage Vin held out his hand, so I could dismount. "Want to go again tomorrow?"

Once off, I handed him the jacket and considered his offer. He hadn't harmed me. He'd helped me, tried to protect me from the wolf. My insides were at war, my emotions pushing me to say yes, my head warning me not to.

In the end, my rational side wouldn't consent. Vin was a stranger.

"I don't think it's a good idea." I glanced down and scraped the toe of my sneaker against the concrete floor. If I looked into his cognac-colored eyes, I'd tell my rationality to go screw itself. "I don't know you."

"Maybe you should stop thinking." He stomped on the starter, firing the engine to life.

"I did. The moment I took your hand."

He peeled out of the garage.

I liked my dream version of him much better.

I went to bed hating the way we'd said good-bye. As I dozed off, I imagined our parting the way I wish it had gone, but the memory of the black wolf kept interrupting my thoughts.

And my thoughts spilled over into my dreams.

The obsidian-colored wolf stood possessively in the center of the field, its hackles raised, its teeth bared. It snarled at a shadowy figure lounging under the lone willow tree. Something about the figure made my spine turn to ice. I was too far away to see clearly, but the hanging branches hid his face anyway. I eased forward, and the wolf moved with me.

My skin tingled and crawled, as if under it were millions of tiny ants moving simultaneously. I was nearly there, when the wolf sprang forward, lunging for the figure's throat.

Startled, I backpedaled, fell, and sat hard. I covered my head. Horrible ripping and tearing sounds resonated through the field. When I found the will to glance up at the fray, I was alone, and the field was deadly quiet. My scalp prickled as I looked around.

Someone was watching me.