His tongue stroked across her hand once more. The feel of it was incredibly erotic. Another sensation, more fundamental than emotion, coiled in the pit of her stomach.
The same sensation she had felt lying in bed, one she’d never expected to know again. The touch of a man’s hands, a man’s mouth on her body. She was suddenly, profoundly aware of the stranger’s utter maleness, the clean and formidable and entirely unobscured lines of his body.
Magnificent. That was the word she’d wanted. Like a predator in his prime—magnificent with his broad shoulders, deep chest, long muscular arms. Taut, ridged belly, legs corded and powerful. Skin that smelled of pine and earth. Strong facial bones, clean and untainted by any dissipation, nearly perfect in their beauty. Black hair that fell almost to his shoulders, painted with an unusual streak of white at one temple.
Strong hands that had moved gently on her skin and held her prisoner. Eyes like none she’d ever seen, except in one other creature.
“Shadow,” she murmured.
His eyes flickered and the spell they’d woven evaporated. Alex’s reason returned. She jerked her hands free and reached for the rifle propped against the wall. Her fingers stopped just short of the barrel. The wild man stepped back, regarding her with hooded wariness.
“You know my name,” she accused. It was all she could think to say, and she hardly knew what response to expect. He might be mentally disturbed, but he had passed up an obvious opportunity to attack her when she was asleep, and his first words had asked for her help.
Her help. She found her gaze straying down his body again and forced it back to his eyes. They were hardly less dangerous. He was utterly focused on her face; she almost lifted her hand to touch her scar.
She looked behind him, at the floor and around the room. No sign whatsoever of clothes he might have abandoned. He must have left them outside the room. And it wouldn’t have been difficult for him to break into her cabin. He’d stripped and lain down beside her, like a lover expecting a welcome.
Alex slid her fingers carefully around the rifle and gripped the doorknob in her other hand. Shadow hadn’t come when she called before. He wasn’t a pet dog to run at her command. But if the wolf was waiting just beyond the door…
“It’s cold in here,” she said carefully. “I suggest we move into the living room. I’ll need to get the fire going again.”
He cocked his head. “Cold,” he repeated, a look of intense concentration coming over his face. He folded his arms. “Fire?”
“Me Tarzan, you Jane,” she muttered. Could it be that he had a limited understanding of English? Had he suffered brain damage of some kind? He looked healthy—altogether too healthy.
It wasn’t enough to treat this man like a potentially dangerous wild animal. Being male, he couldn’t be trusted. Being human, he was by nature unreliable and wouldn’t play by nature’s sensible rules. She pushed from her mind the fleeting thought that Shadow hadn’t either.
The doorknob turned with a click. Alex maneuvered her body to pull the door inward, never taking her eyes from the wild man. She backed away down the short hall and into the living room.
“Shadow,” she called.
The room was silent except for the muted pop of charred wood in the stove. She risked a glance at the old woven rug where Shadow had lain.
It was bare. Alex gripped the rifle in both hands. The door to the spare bedroom was closed, and she could see the kitchen from where she stood. The front door was still firmly shut and showed no signs of having been forced. Neither did any of the windows.
Shadow was gone. He had vanished as mysteriously as the wild man had appeared.
But she had no time to spare for worry. The man was emerging cautiously from the bedroom, nostrils flared, looking for all the world like a transplanted wolf being set free of its cage.
Alex choked on a harsh laugh. Hysteria, Alex? There was nothing remotely amusing about this. She’d lost any hope of barricading him in the bedroom.