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reached out, intending to pull him off. But when he bared his teeth, she cleared her throat. “Well, one night. What could it hurt?”
    Watching him cautiously, she climbed up, sliding under the duvet. He simply lay, his head snugged between his front paws. She picked up her glasses, her book, shrugging when the wolf lay still. Satisfied, she piled the pillows behind her and settled in to read.
    Only moments later, the mattress shifted, and the wolf moved over to lie at her side, laying his head in her lap. Without a thought, Rowan stroked him and began to read aloud.
    She read until her eyes grew heavy, her voice thick, and once more slipped into sleep with a book in her hand.
    The air quivered as wolf became man. Liam touched a finger to her forehead. “Dream, Rowan,” hemurmured, pausing as he felt her slide deeper. He took her book, her glasses, and set them neatly on the bedside table. Then he eased her down, lifting her head so he could spread out the pillows.
    “You must be waking every morning stiff as a board,” he murmured. “Forever falling asleep sitting up.” He skimmed the back of his hand over her cheek, then sighed.
    The scent of her, silky and female and subtle, was enough to drive him mad. Each quiet breath through those full, parted lips was a kind of invitation.
    “Damn it, Rowan, you lie in bed with me with the rain on the roof and read Yeats aloud in that soft, almost prim voice of yours. How should I resist that? I’ll have to have you sooner or later. Later’s the better for both of us. But I need something tonight.”
    He took her hand, pressed palm to palm, linked fingers. And shut his eyes. “Come with me, two minds, one dream. Sleep is not now what it seems. Give what I need, and take what you’ll have from me. As I will, so mote it be.”
    She moaned. And moved. Her free arm flung up over her head, her lips parting on a shuddering breath that seemed to whisper in his blood. His own pulse thickened as he made love to her with his mind. Tasted her, touched her with his thoughts. Gave himself to her.
    Lost in dreams, she arched up, her body shuddering under phantom hands.
    She smelled him, that musky, half-animal scent that had already stirred her more than once in dreams. Images, sensations, desires, confused and tangled and arousing beyond belief swarmed through her. Embracing them, she murmured his name and opened to him, body and mind.
    The hot wave of his thoughts lifted her up, held her trembling, aching, quivering, then stabbed her with unspeakable pleasure. She heard her name, said quietly, almost desperately. Repeated. Desire drugged the mind, swirled through it, then slid silently away into fulfillment.
    He sat, his eyes still closed, his hand still joined with hers. Listened to the rain, her soft and steady breathing. Resisting the urge to lie with her, to touch her now with more than his mind, he threw his head back. And vanished.

Chapter 3
    She woke early, blissfully relaxed. Her body seemed to glow. Her mind was calm, clear and content. Rowan was out of bed and in the shower before she remembered anything. Then with a muttered curse, she jumped out, dripping, grabbed a towel and dashed back into the bedroom.
    The bed was empty. There was no beautiful wolf curled in front of the cold fire. Ignoring the water sliding down her legs, she dashed downstairs, searching the house and leaving a trail of damp behind her.
    The kitchen door hung open, letting in the chill of the morning. Still she stepped out, her cold toes curling up in protest as she scanned the line of trees.
    How did he get out—and where did he go? she wondered. Since when do wolves open doors?
    She hadn’t imagined it. No, she refused to believe that her imagination could create such clear images, such textures, such events. That would make her crazy, wouldn’t it? she thought with a half laugh as she backed inside again and closed the door.
    The wolf had been in the house. He’d sat with her, stayed with her.