Read Online Spirit of the Wolf by Vonna Harper - Free Book Online

together.
    He swayed forward and back, forward again. Then just as his knees started to buckle, the weight was gone. Feminine arms no longer gripped his neck. Most telling, the sex moisture she’d smeared over his belly started to dry.
    Gone. Lost. Nothing left behind except the few words she’d spoken.
    She was right. They were strangers.
    Thinking—if it could be called that—that the dream had come to an end, he ran his hands over his waist to discover that the knife no longer existed.
    Cold returned. Alert and more alarmed than he wanted to admit, he looked around. His attention settled on the cave that had had Cat’s furniture in it. Now only her bed remained.
    Thinking she might reappear and be on it if he touched it, he started toward the bed. Something sharp jabbed his right instep. What had happened to the boots?
    Knowing there weren’t any answers, he looked up. A dark, four-legged form blocked the cave entrance.
    “Damn it, not that.”
    A long muzzle opened to reveal countless teeth. He wasn’t sure but thought the wolf—yeah, that’s what it was—had been normal size at first. Now it was massive. Not as large as a horse but nearly twice as big as a mortal wolf. Growling, it started toward him.
    Terrified and fascinated, he held his ground.
    “Welcome,” the wolf said.
     
    Cat woke with a headache that two cups of coffee did nothing to alleviate. She had two students coming this afternoon, teenage girls looking to improve their roping skills so hopefully they could earn more ribbons at the periodically held local rodeos. She was looking forward to their enthusiasm and willingness to learn. As they’d told her, their parents didn’t have the patience or knowledge. Cat suspected some of the problem was the girls didn’t give their parents enough credit, but as long as they listened to her, which they did, she didn’t care.
    She hadn’t heard from Matt. The local morning news had led with the wolf attack, proof that he’d spread the necessary news. She’d heard from several neighbors eager to rehash what little the reporter had said. Maybe she should have mentioned that she’d seen the dead calf, but that would lead to questions she wasn’t up to answering.
    When she’d first gone outside, it had been cool enough that she’d regretted not wearing a jacket, but giving the horses their morning hay had warmed her. Instead of saddling her newest acquisition, a two-year-old quarter horse gelding with a tendency to shy every time he saw a lasso, she sat on a hay bale and stared at the rocky outcroppings to the north, which were on what had once been Paiute land.
    Other than the occasional hiker, the rimrocks held little appeal, and her one attempt to take a horse there had taught her it wasn’t worth the risk. After the failed horseback ride when she’d discovered that the terrain was even steeper than it had looked from a distance, she’d argued with herself for months. She had no reason to go there. Her boots were hardly made for climbing, and she had more than enough to keep herself busy. Only lizards, spiders, and maybe snakes made their homes there.
    But the former Paiute turf continued to call to her. Why had ancient Native Americans lived there? She could understand scouts staying there so they could keep an eye on strangers, but not building homes. However, the little she’d learned from the local historical society led her to believe the tribe had spent extended periods of time there.
    One spring day last year, she’d gotten up, driven to the end of the road, and, armed with water, granola bars, binoculars, and her cell phone, she’d started up a narrow deer path. She’d climbed and explored for hours. Despite scratches, bug bites, and aching limbs, she’d followed curiosity or instinct or something from one intriguing spot to another. The whole time she was up there, she imagined she was a Paiute woman on a spirit quest. Modern life no longer had a hold on her. She’d become