I shivered in the gathering darkness. Crickets started to sing from the sagebrush as the light faded from the pale blue sky. Colin and Zeke had made quite a dent in the twelve Miller High Lifes, and they were completely immersed in a heated discussion about the various merits of different brands of climbing ropes. Thankfully, they didn’t seem to have noticed their doctoral advisor just completely zoned out. I zipped up my fleece jacket and hunched my shoulders against the growing chill in the air.

Dad was right, of course. Seeing the wolf that night sparked something in me I’d thought had died after the divorce. I borrowed Dad’s old Chevy pick-up the next morning and drove two hours to the University of Maine to have lunch with Professor Leclerc, who studied raccoons in Acadia. By the time we’d finished our sandwiches, he offered me a postdoctoral position in his lab. And, by the time the snows retreated and the lilac bushes along the side of my parents’ house flowered, I’d been hired as a professor of wildlife biology at Montana State University, specializing in tracking the wolf population in Yellowstone.

And that night was also when my dreams began.

Almost every night after I saw the wolf behind my parents’ woodpile, I met my dream lover, tall and muscular with golden eyes, long, dark hair, and never a hint of clothing to obscure his mouthwatering body. Sometimes we talked, but mostly the dreams were just sex, an explosion of pure animal lust and pleasure, our bodies coming together and falling apart, over and over. Between my dream lover and my return to the world of scientific research, that November in Maine was the month when my life began to feel like it might actually be worth living, after all.

I hadn’t thought about the wolf encounter behind my parents’ cabin in years. In fact, I actively tried to avoid thinking about my time in Maine. It was embarrassing. None of my peers at Montana State had spent an entire year depressed and living with their parents. None of them had even gotten divorced.

I stood and stretched. “I’m going to check the satellites and then call it a night, boys,” I said. “Remember, we get up with the sun.”

Zeke gave me a salute. Colin just smiled.

It didn’t take long to align the satellite dishes and find the Leopold pack on the glowing screen of my iPhone. The wolves with radio collars weren’t moving, so I assumed the rest of the pack had also bedded down for the night. I imagined them curled in the grass, tails over their noses to conserve warmth. The alpha female, 259F, successfully reared four pups last year. I could picture them all: two gray pups, one black female, and a deep, dusky male with white markings. All of them skinny with long legs.

But what would happen when they met the lone black wolf?

Sometimes lone wolves are accepted into a new pack. Sometimes they even become the alpha, although that thought gave me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. The current male alpha of the Leopold pack, 457M, was young, strong, and kind of a jerk. The lone black wolf was bigger, but I thought any fight between 457M and the new wolf would be a serious confrontation. Maybe to the death.

“And that’s how nature works,” I muttered. “It’s my job to observe, not to get attached.”

Still, I wondered where the black male was now. Did he know he was close to another pack? Did he know he was close to us? A shiver ran down the back of my spine.

Was he still close to us?

Slowly, I turned around, looking for the gleam of golden eyes in the fading light. There was nothing behind me but lodgepole pines, their shadows pooling and gathering beneath them as the last of the light left the sky. I took a deep breath and shook my head.

“I’m starting to lose it,” I whispered, glancing up to make sure Zeke and Colin weren’t watching me talk to myself in the dark. It was definitely time for bed.

****

SUNLIGHT.

Spring sunlight.

But it’s not springtime, my brain insisted. It’s August. And I’m in Yellowstone. I rubbed my eyes and the aspen grove came into focus. Wildflowers bobbed in the gentle breeze.

“Dreaming,” I whispered. “Of course, I’m dreaming again.”

I took a few steps. The aspens’ heart-shaped leaves rustled above me. Their speckled white and black trunks shimmered in the sunlight, making it difficult to estimate distance. But I knew exactly where I was going, and it only took a handful of steps to find our meadow.

My breath caught in my throat when I spotted him. He stood in the middle of a small clearing, the wildflowers reaching to his knees. He was staring into the sky, completely naked. His dark curls tumbled to the middle of his back. He wasn’t exactly my type, some distant, rational part of my brain realized. I’d always ended up with nerdy, intellectual guys who wore smaller size jeans than me.

But my dream lover was different. He was muscular, enormous, and wild. Something about his eyes and the way his body moved spoke of raw animal strength and barely contained power. What the hell was my subconscious doing, inventing him?

He turned as if he’d heard me, and our eyes met. His face lit with a smile that made my heart stutter. Maybe not exactly my type, but damn, he was gorgeous. That smile could rival the summer sun.

His muscles rippled in the dappled sunlight as he crossed the meadow. He didn’t stop in front of me, didn’t even bother with a greeting. Instead, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me to his chest, kissing me deeply, hungrily. My body surged with heat, and I opened my mouth to him.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he growled into my neck, his breath warm on my skin.

I laughed at the absurdity of his statement. How could my own dream lover be surprised to see me?

He sighed into my hair. “I’ve missed you.”

“I saw you last night,” I said, giggling as his hips pressed into mine.

“Oh, but it’s been a very long day.” He ran his face along my neck and I closed my eyes, pleasure rippling through me in slow waves as his hands traveled my back.

“You always wear clothes,” he sighed.

I frowned and looked down. Yes, I was certainly wearing clothes. Black polypro pants and a maroon silk turtleneck. The same outfit I wore as I climbed into my sleeping bag.

“Huh. Guess I don’t have much of an imagination,” I muttered.

My dream lover tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. “They are...nice clothes,” he said.

I snorted and pulled out of his arms long enough to yank my shirt over my head.

“This place used to be different,” I said as I stepped out of my pants. “It was—”

“Pine trees, correct? And a bed of moss.” He pulled me into his arms. Now the heat of his arousal pressed directly against the soft skin of my stomach. I shivered as he ran his fingers up my back and along my neck. He smelled good, musky and wild, with a hint of sweetness. Like clover flowers, or honey.

“There was a stream, too. Do you remember?” he asked.

I smiled. I did remember the stream in the pine forest, the setting for all those dreams that had left me panting and drenched with sweat, my limbs hopelessly tangled in the sheets of the narrow twin bed in my parents’ house. We washed in that stream, sometimes, or drank from it, like wild animals. I turned to tell my dream lover what I remembered, and his lips pressed against mine. I opened my mouth to welcome his kiss as my body melted against his chest. His fingers gently pinched my nipples, and I moaned into his mouth.

He pulled away grinning, then dropped to his knees before me. His hands wrapped around my ass as he pulled me close. “Damn, I missed your taste,” he growled.

He ran his tongue over the crest of my sex and I gasped. I plunged my fingers into his hair as my hips rocked against his mouth.

“Oh, God, yes,” I said.

My dream lover was always crazy about giving me oral; some nights that was all we would do. Because apparently, I don’t have much of an imagination, I thought, before his lips and tongue became so distracting I could no longer think of anything.

My body burned against him, the pleasure rolling through me in great, red waves, making my legs tremble until I lost all sense of balance; the only thing holding me up were his strong arms around my waist, cupping my ass. He moved slowly inside me, his tongue tracing circles around my clit, his animalistic moans of pleasure against my legs sending shivers through my entire body. My eyes closed, and I rocked my head back, the muscles in my abdomen tightening—

“Mmmm, you’re close,” he murmured, pulling back.

I whimpered. The air in the aspen grove felt almost cold against my suddenly exposed flesh. He raised his hand to my sex, tracing it with his thumb, and my body trembled so violently I would have fallen if he hadn’t braced his shoulders against my legs.

“I want to keep you there,” he said. “Just about to come.”

He turned to kiss the inside of my thigh as his thumb circled my clit, pressing hard enough to make me shudder, but not hard enough for release.

“Y—Yes,” I said.

The entire aspen grove spun around me. I closed my eyes, my body aching, my hips straining against his hand. I couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. His lips moved over my thighs like butterfly wings, covering my skin with light, chaste kisses as his fingers teased my clit. I tried to ask him for more, but my mouth had forgotten how to form words.

“I love doing this to you,” he said. His breath was hot against my skin.

I moaned, my fingers sinking into his hair as if it were the only thing keeping me from floating away. His kisses traveled across my hips, tracing the edge of my dark pubic curls. One of his fingers slipped inside me, then another, and I whimpered. His thumb was still tantalizingly soft and delicate. I pressed my hips against him, my entire body resting against his strong shoulders.

“More,” I gasped. “Please!”

His thumb dropped away, and he pressed his mouth between my legs, his tongue devouring my clit, his fingers moving deep inside me. The energy he’d so carefully built exploded like firecrackers through my body, blinding me with a hot, red flood of pleasure. I came so hard I screamed. My legs collapsed, and I folded into his arms.

For absolutely no reason, I started crying. No, not just crying. I sobbed in big, ugly, choking gasps. My shoulders shook as I tried to hold back the flood of hot tears. Dream lover said nothing. He just held me, running his warm, strong hands over my back until I could pull myself together.

“Oh, damn, I’m sorry,” I stammered, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s no problem.” He smiled at me like I didn’t just totally lose my shit in his arms. “Do you want to talk about it?”

My shoulders relaxed. Of course, my dream lover would say the exact right thing. “Honestly, I don’t even know why I just...why I...Shit, I’m sorry.”

He kissed my forehead. “Are you feeling better?”

I took a deep breath. “Yeah. Actually, I am.”

It was true, and it wasn’t just about my body. This was as relaxed as I’d felt in years. Honestly, it was as relaxed as I’d felt since I stopped dreaming about him every night.

“Good.” He leaned back, pulling me with him until we were both resting on the wildflowers, our naked chests pressed together. “Then let’s do it again.”

****

PUFFY CUMULUS CLOUDS chased each other through the pale dream sky as I lay on my back, panting in the tall grass. Satisfaction swirled through my body, as if sexual contentment was washing over me in languorous waves. Damn, I hadn’t felt this way in—

“What are you thinking?”

I shifted somewhat, meeting my dream lover’s golden eyes and slow, lazy smile. It felt good to think I’d put that dreamy expression on his gorgeous face.

“Nothing,” I said. “Just trying to remember the last time I felt this good.”

He laughed softly, then reached to tuck a stray hair behind my ear. “That’s what you used to say.”

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Tell me, are you still studying...” His forehead creased. “Those little dog things? Like wolves, but more annoying?”

“Coyotes,” I said. My cheeks were starting to ache from smiling so much. “And why would you know that?”

“I remembered. I wanted to remember everything about you.”

With a sigh, I let myself collapse back onto the sweet-smelling grass. I felt too damn good right now to question my own ridiculous dreams.

“No, I’m not,” I said. “For your information, I’m studying wolves.”

He leaned over my chest, his eyebrow arching. “Oh, really? And what have you discovered?”

“Well, last year my big genetic study was published in Nature.”

His forehead creased again. “Is that...Should I be impressed?”

I laughed until my chest ached. Apparently my subconscious thought I needed a lover who’d never heard of Nature.

“Yes,” I said, once I’d finished gasping for breath. “Damn straight you should be impressed. Although I’m kind of worried they picked my article as their token woman scientist, or because wolves are such great clickbait.”

I’d never told anyone those fears, not even my parents. And I sure as hell hadn’t mentioned them to anyone at the university. Relentless self-promotion was part of the tenure process.

My dream lover just laughed and leaned over to kiss my neck. “I see you’re still doubting yourself.”

His words sounded odd and tinny, as if we were talking over a phone line and not lying naked next to each other in the grass. I sat up. My vision swam. His beautiful face blurred, and the entire aspen grove collapsed around me, drifting away in thick ribbons of white smoke.