Master of the Mountain

red hair, reaching for her soft body in the night.

“You two are making me depressed,” Jake said, scowling at the dog, then Logan. “Go get the girl already. If you can talk her into working as a cook, I'll spring for her wages.”

“No can do.” Body aching from the work he'd done to keep from thinking, Logan leaned back in the Adirondack chair. “She's lucky to have escaped without any scars.”

“What did she say about that?”

Logan frowned. “Nothing. I didn't tell her anything.” Oh, hey, I tend to kill people when I wake up badly. Right.

Now Jake frowned. “Seems like that might be one of those…ah, shareable facts. Who knows? Maybe she'd be willing to risk it.”

“I'm not,” Logan snapped. Not willing to discuss it, not willing to risk it. His hands fisted every time he thought of what he might have done, especially since she'd actually awoken him from a nightmare. Twice, no less.

It was amazing that he hadn't hit her or tried to… Logan rose to his feet.

“What?” Jake tilted his head.

“She actually managed to wake me up from nightmares twice without me knocking her across the room.”

“Did she now? Huh.”

Logan rubbed his jaw. “How did she do that? You never could.”

Jake thought for a moment. “Your nightmares might be mellowing, or you might trust her.”

“Might be either.

“You know, you don't yell at night anymore,” Jake said, tipping his head back against the chair. “Or sleepwalk either.”

“No, thank God.” Blood and death still reigned in his dreams, but at least he woke up in his own bed. He'd never thought much about it. “The nightmares themselves never seemed to improve,” he said slowly, “but maybe they don't affect me as much.”

“That'd be my guess.”

But could he trust himself not to hurt her? He slammed the hope down. Just because she'd survived him twice didn't mean shit. He shook his head. “No, I don't-”

“Bro,” Jake interrupted. “You didn't kill the little redhead, and she was in bed with you. Hell, I stood all the way across the room and you came after me.”

Logan's eyes narrowed. Dammit, he wanted her, wanted her with him, in his bed, in his arms. But he needed to know he wouldn't hurt her. He eyed his brother. “You feeling brave, bro?”

* * * * *

After forcing himself to watch a war movie, something he normally avoided because they inevitably gave him nightmares, Logan had gone to bed.

Hot, dry air and sweat tricking down his back. The rattle of the gun truck bumping along the road, soldiers on each side, facing outward. Screaming. An insurgent runs at them and is cut down by two of the soldiers. Before the body hits the ground, it blows in a ghastly splatter of red and flesh and-

A loud slam. “Die!”

Logan jerked upright.

Grinning like a jackass, his brother casually leaned against the door frame. The door still shuddered against the wall.

Logan rubbed his face, feeling the sweat. “Die?”

“Seemed like a good word to set you off.” Jake scratched his back on the wood. “Didn't work, though. Night, bro.”

“Night.” Logan dropped back onto the bed, adrenaline coursing through his veins like he'd chugged at least five cups of coffee. “Thanks.” I think.

Chapter Seventeen

The weeks since Rebecca had returned to San Francisco had been busy. She should have been too busy to think about mountains or vacations…or men who didn't want her. And still at far-too-frequent intervals, a feeling would sweep through her as if she'd forgotten something or left something behind. She'd stop and check. Key in purse, purse on shoulder.

At first, she thought she missed her apartment, but she really didn't. Her job? But resigning had brought her nothing but relief. So she had to face the facts. She missed the mountain and the lodge so much that the memories were like a heavy ball in her stomach. When she cooked, she kept setting tidbits aside for Thor.

And when she thought of Logan-she tried really, really hard not to think of him-she wanted to go back to him so badly, she'd actually had her car keys in her hand a couple of times. At night, she'd roll over, seeking his warmth, needing his arms around her. How she could miss someone she'd known less than a week didn't make any sense. Yet everywhere she went, she listened for his deep voice.

She'd bought five flannel shirts her first week back in San Francisco.

Truly pathetic, Rebecca. With a sigh of exasperation, Rebecca walked out of her temporary bedroom and into Pepper's living room. She nodded at her tall, slender friend, glanced at the purple couch and shuddered, then dropped into a green cushiony chair. “I'm surprised your eyeballs don't bleed.”

“Just because you look ghastly next to purple doesn't mean everyone does.” Pepper grinned and fluffed her black hair. “Are you all unpacked?”

“All done.”

“Jobless, apartment-less, stuff in storage. You've been busy.” Pepper walked into the tiny apartment kitchen and reappeared with two beers. “So what's next on that itemized list of yours, my artistically anal friend?”

Rebecca swallowed some icy, dark beer. “It's mostly a list of what I don't want, so far. No more meaningless jobs. No more cities.” No more boring sex.

“You sure you weren't doing drugs on that vacation you took?”

Rebecca laughed. “No. Actually I painted.” And had lots and lots of sex. “That's what I plan to do now. I illustrated some children's books in college. I called up those contacts today and it looks like I can do that part- time.” Leaving the rest of the time for painting. And there was a heady satisfaction in bringing a book to life. Even better, seeing a child enjoy it. Is that a real fairy, Daddy?

“Okay. Check mark on the work.” Pepper tapped her gold-spangled fingernails on her beer with a clinking sound. “Where are you going to live?”

“Well, I can work anywhere as an illustrator.” Rebecca leaned her head back. “But I'm not ready to make a decision on that yet.” She could explore a new state. Go anywhere.

She pressed her lips together. Jake mentioned the men's periodic trips to San Francisco to pick up lodge supplies and have fun. When she'd handed in the key to her apartment, she realized she'd harbored an insane hope that Logan would show up on her doorstep. He'd smile and say she owed him a blowjob. He hadn't. And now she had no doorstep for him to find. Damn you, Logan. The ache in her throat made the next swallow of beer difficult. She forced it down.

But she did have that third item on her list to deal with. Before she headed out to some rural area where she knew no one, she needed to know if the spectacular sex with Logan was due to that Dom/sub thing or because of Logan himself. If she found another Dom, would he be just as good? She couldn't imagine it, but she couldn't ever have imagined she'd let someone tie her up, or strip her and put things…

“Whoa, girlfriend, you just turned red.” Pepper grinned. “I think there's something you're not telling me. What exactly happened on that mountain? Besides you and Matt breaking up?”

Rebecca felt her face growing even hotter. Then she laughed. “Gorgeous man. Hot, kinky sex.”

Pepper blinked. “You? Kinky sex?” She set her beer down on the coffee table and leaned forward. “Tell me, and spare no detail.”

“No details, you voyeur, but I do need your help. And it's related to kinky sex.” She eyed Pepper. Even with all