Fourth of July…
The sky was lit with red, white, and blue sparks, and the crowd around them oohed and ahhed after each pop, rumble, and hiss. Brandy leaned against Reardon’s chest as he sat on a blanket behind her, his legs bent by her sides acting like armrests.
Best chair ever. Certainly better than any rickety lawn chair like she usually brought to watch Canville’s annual Fourth of July fireworks. She’d always dreamed of sharing one of her favorite summer nights with someone like Reardon. Now she got to share all her summer nights with him.
Winter, spring, and fall too.
Nibbling at her ear made her press herself more firmly against Reardon. Maybe it was a werewolf thing, but the two of them were almost always touching in some way. It was probably sickening to watch. That was what Parker and Chella said anyway as if they weren’t equally all over each other, but Brandy didn’t care. She craved Reardon’s touch, needing it like she needed oxygen.
“Let’s go for a run,” he whispered, right before he tugged on her earlobe with his teeth.
Running had become one of their favorite things to do together—well, aside from making love, which Brandy was sure would always be number one on the list. Wolf kisses were apparently addictive. She could never get enough.
Pulling out her phone, she said, “I suppose we do need to run off all that blueberry pie we ate. Let me text Mom to see if she can take Dylan home.”
Dylan and Meredith were down by the water’s edge getting a closer view of the barge where the fire department set off the fireworks. After a quick series of texts, Meredith had agreed to watch Dylan, and Reardon had their blanket and picnic basket all packed up.
“How is it that you still look very Alpha with a picnic basket hanging from your arm?” Brandy teased.
“I’m confident in my manhood, fairy lass. Nothing can shake that.” He scooped an arm around her waist and brought her body up against his where she could very clearly feel his… manhood.
Damn, the man was always ready to go, and that got her all fired up.
“A run. Let’s go.” He nudged her toward the new SUV she’d picked up last week. It was black with the Silver Moon logo emblazoned on the doors in shimmery silver paint.
Reardon stowed their things in the back of the SUV right next to the flat stones they’d picked up yesterday to extend the patio behind the house. Stones that were heavy and awkward, but Reardon had lifted and loaded like they were bags of feathers. In fact, the home improvement store manager had seen Reardon muscling the stones around with ease and had offered him a job on the spot. It wasn’t a dream job, but it was a start for a werewolf trying to build a life amongst regular humans… and save some money for a wedding which was set for October when the Vermont foliage would be at its fiery best.
Brandy could hardly wait to be Reardon’s wife. Her life had been so focused on the wolves and raising Dylan. Meeting a man who shared those passions plus had that something extra special completed her. She had absolutely everything she’d ever wanted.
“Let’s head this way.” Reardon guided her away from the crowd and toward the dark woods bordering Canville’s center green.
Under the cover of night, they shed their clothes and Reardon made a small sack of his T-shirt so he could take their clothes with them. They slunk into the forest and shifted. In no time at all, the warm summer night was whipping by them in a blur of shadowed greens and browns. Every now and then, the sky flashed with fireworks, illuminating everything growing in those beautiful woods.
As a wolf, Brandy found her connection to the earth had grown so much deeper. She frequently felt as if her heart beat in time with everything wild around her. When she stopped to enjoy that bond, Flidae’s voice often whispered in her head.
You have earned my protection, she-wolf.
Brandy wasn’t always sure she wanted the goddess’s attention after seeing what she was capable of, but as long as Flidae was not angry with them, that was probably a good thing.
They continued running, stopping only for a moment when they got to the For Sale sign by Hank Swift’s mailbox. The man had made good on his plan to sell and get the hell out of Canville. Brandy was trying her best to make a deal happen with the university Parker worked at to purchase Hank’s land as a remote campus. Then she wouldn’t have to worry about another grouchy, gun-toting, trap-wielding old man buying the place and endangering her wolves, her family.
Finally they reached Silver Moon Sanctuary and after playing around in wolf form for a little while, they shifted to human and opened the entrance gates. Brandy reached for their clothes, but Reardon ran ahead.
“I think I prefer you without these.” He wiggled the bundle and smiled wickedly.
“Likewise.” She gave him an appraising look. His human form was spectacular. All those muscles. Those green-gold eyes. That dark stubble around his mouth.
That mouth.
She ran to catch up and leaped at him. He dropped the bundle and caught her easily, cradling her against his chest in those strong, protective arms.
“You know the best way to celebrate freedom on the Fourth of July?” she asked as he carried her toward the house.
Reardon shook his head.
“Exercising your right to kiss me all over and make love to me until the sun comes up.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I think I like this American holiday, my fairy lass.” He dropped a kiss on her lips and set her down so he could open the front door.
Before he got it open, however, a rustling in the woods to their left stopped him.
Brandy looked in that direction. “Probably one of the wolves.”
“Reardon…” A scratchy voice sounded from the darkness.
“Or not.” Brandy got behind Reardon. “Who is that?”
“Show yourself.” Reardon’s voice was full of authority as he nudged her behind him, and an image of him as the fierce Celtic warrior he once was flashed in her mind.
More rustling sounded then a naked man, about Reardon’s size, spilled out of the shadows. He was filthy and bleeding and could barely stand.
Reardon rushed to the man. “Jaemus?”