I didn't want sex any more than I wanted friendship. A relationship? Ha. I had better things to do.
So why was I thinking of how delectable Damien Fitzgerald had looked barefoot and bare chested beneath the silver light of the moon?
Because I'd lost what was left of my mind.
Maybe he wasn't a werewolf, but that didn't make him fair game. Any connection with me could get him killed - badly. It had happened before.
Despite his taut pecs and bulging biceps, he was out of his league in my world. He'd be meat to them, and I couldn't let that happen.
When I heard his steps on the stairs, I went out and took the bulb from his fingers. "Thanks. I'll take care of it."
The sharp dismissal in my voice caused a flicker of hurt to cross his face, before he squashed it and let the stoic mask drop. With a nod, he returned to the bar.
I had to force myself not to call him back, not to follow him and apologize. He'd been nothing but kind to me and I'd blown him off. Even though it was for his own good, I still felt like a shit.
I changed the bulb, for appearances' sake, then glanced at my watch. Midnight. The bar beneath my feet was starting to rock. No one would notice me slipping away. No one would care.
But after what had happened tonight, I was nervous. Had I lost my touch? My edge? Maybe I should take some time off, as Will had suggested.
Even so, I felt naked without all my guns, so I hurried to my car, retrieved every one that I had, as well as my travel bag, then hustled up to my apartment. As I reached the landing, the distant, eerie cry of a wolf split the night. I slammed the door and locked it behind me.
Was I locking them out or myself in? I wasn't sure, and that worried me. I'd spent a little time on the other side of sane, and I didn't want to return. I stowed my rifle, my bag, then sat down and had a good long talk with myself.
I had almost screwed up. It happened. However, if I got sidetracked, if I got spooked, they would win and a whole lot of innocent people would lose.
I'd take tonight off. Get some sleep. Go back to work tomorrow with a clear head and a clearer plan.
That decided, I checked the locks, the windows, my ammo. I should have checked my dreams - at the door.
I didn't mean to fall asleep before the sun came up. I planned to do some Internet research, make a few calls, catch up on my paperwork. But the traveling, the stress, the steady beat of the music from the bar downstairs must have combined to lull me from my intentions. Once asleep, I went where I hadn't been in quite a while.
Nightmares were nothing new to me. I lived with them even in the daytime. But I usually hunted the darkness away, slept in the light. I'd found that this kept the bloody trips down memory lane to a minimum.
In this dream, I was twenty-two again. Fresh out of school with a brand-new job teaching ABCs. I loved everything about kids - their innocence, their interest, their trusting cherubic faces. I loved them and I wanted some of my own.
Which was where Jimmy Renquist came in. We'd met as juniors at Northern Kansas University. I'd been leading the cheer "Go, fight, win. Yay," when Jimmy had been thrown out-of-bounds by a Neanderthal defensive lineman from Fresno. He'd landed on top of me.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he kept repeating as he helped me up and brushed me off. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?"
"Renquist, get your ass back in the game!" the coach shouted.
He'd shrugged, winked, and smiled at me. I was lost from that moment on.
Jimmy was sweet, strong, smart. He loved kids, too. He planned to become a phys ed teacher. He would have if he hadn't fallen in love with me.
Even in the dream my mind shied at the memory of what I'd done to bring the horror down upon us. In the way of nightmares, the scene shifted to Sunday dinner at my parents' house. Telling them the wedding date, showing Mom the ring, having her weep with joy and hug me tight.
My last sight of Jimmy - whole - had been of him smiling that smile I loved