Eternal Rider - Larissa Ione [28]
“Yes, thank you. Um… I’m afraid the dog didn’t make it. I’m sorry.”
“S’okay. Didn’t think he would. He was bleeding pretty bad.” He pulled a wad of money out of his pocket. “What do I owe you?”
Cara eyed the cash as if it were food and she was starving. Remembering the bills on her coffee table, he prepared himself for an outrageous quote. “You don’t owe me anything,” she sighed, surprising the shit out of him. “Thanks for coming by.”
He shrugged. “I appreciate you trying.” He shoved the money back in his pocket and recalled what she’d said on the phone. “Weirdest thing. I dreamed about that damned dog last night. He was in a cage, howling like he wanted to tell me something.” He turned, took one step off the porch, and smiled when he heard the chain clank on the door.
“Wait. You… dreamed about a dog? A black dog? The dog you brought to me?”
He swung back around. “Yeah. Why?”
“Because,” she said softly, “I did, too.” The door creaked wider, but she still stood behind it and peeked around, as if using it as a shield. “In my dream he was in a basement. You, too?”
He widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Yeah. What else do you remember?”
Reluctance bled into her body language, the way she gripped the door so hard her knuckles turned white and worried her bottom lip. “The cage was in the center of some sort of big circle. With symbols.”
Restraining glyphs to keep him from flashing out of the cage and from crying out for help from his pack. “Were there symbols on the cage, too?”
She nodded, her wet hair falling forward to conceal her cheeks. He wished she’d step out from behind the door so he could see what she was wearing. Not that it mattered. But she seemed like the jeans and sweatshirt type, and he wanted to see if he was right. That, and he’d love to know what her extremely fine ass looked like in denim.
“So we both dreamed the same thing,” she mused. “What do you think it means?”
“No idea. But with any luck, we won’t dream of caged dogs again tonight.” It was a lie, because he needed her to dream. At this point, she alone could lead him to Sestiel.
“That would be nice.” She had a musical, soothing tone to her voice, and Ares found himself hoping she’d keep talking. “Hey, do you have a phone number where I can reach you? Um, you know, in case I have any questions about the dog or anything?”
Bullshit. She wouldn’t have questions about the dog. But he’d established a connection with her, had given them common ground in the form of a mystery, and any normal human would want to solve why two complete strangers would have the exact same dream.
He covertly fished a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket and tucked it under a business card with his cell number. Why, he wasn’t sure, except that he knew she needed the money and he had plenty of it.
She finally came out from behind the door, and he allowed himself a long, slow visual ride down her body. Hell yeah, he’d been right about her clothes, and the plain gray oversized sweatshirt and well-worn jeans looked great on her. She had hips made for a good grip, thighs meant to crush a male between them, and sexy, dainty feet that would lock tight behind that male’s back. He’d bet his left nut that she had sensitive ankles.
“Thanks.” She took the card, but scowled at the money. “I said—”
“Take it. If you don’t, I’ll leave it on your porch with another hundred.” He might do that anyway. And fuck, when did he become a walking, bleeding-heart charity? Maybe when he’d been sizing her up for sex and all his blood drained out of his head.
She offered him a tentative, hesitant smile that jacked his temperature a few degrees. He’d had his mouth on those lush lips, and damn if he didn’t want to do it again. It had been his first taste of a woman in forever, and he wanted more.