Chapter 1

Brady Armstrong’s pulse quickened as her scent filled his flared nostrils. A predawn chill erected goosebumps across his taut, bronzed skin, lifting every hair follicle like a thousand pinpricks. A shiver quaked his body like long sharp fingernails had been dragged down his back. He drew in a deep, quick breath. With a groan he turned over, anticipating ... her. His eyes opened. Thin cotton curtains lifted against a demanding breeze.

It was her.

She stood there, in front of the window, among the flailing curtains. A pinkish-orange hue washed the horizon behind her and filled his bedroom with an odd iridescence. Her beautiful hour-glass figure silhouetted by the budding first light. A gauzy nightgown covered her body, but the morning glow exposed every curve underneath.

“How did you get in here?” he growled.

“You summoned me.” Her voice penetrated his mind, bathing his thoughts with warm pleasure-filled memories of her in his arms.

“How? I can’t summon you.”

“It was him.”

Brady paused. Had the monster summoned her? Could she hear its demands?

Despite his better judgement, he reached out to take her hand, craving her body, her nearness.

She moved willingly. Gliding into his bed, she pressed against him, warm and wanting. Wrapping his arm around her waist, feeling the swell of her hip, he slid her under him as he rolled over onto her. She kissed his neck, his jaw, his ear lobe.

He knew better, but her desire pulled him to where he knew he shouldn’t go.

“Who summoned who?” He devoured her mouth. Tasting her, loving her, teasing her.

And she loved him back. Her fingers tangled in his long black hair, pulling him deeper, harder into the kiss that sent his mind tumbling like driftwood in white water rapids.

A shrill ring broke the rhythm of their love making, drawing them apart. He leapt from her, landing in a sitting position on his hip.

He was alone.

The sheet billowed with his sudden movement, landing gently over his legs. Covering the still swollen remnant of his explicit dream. He turned, dropping his legs over the side of the bed. He rubbed the sleep from his face and the ache from his member, then stood. The cobwebs of the dream clinging to his consciousness.

The shrill sounded again.

His phone! It lit the dark room with the odd light that had infiltrated his dream that plagued him ever since he put his Seal-Trident pin in a jewelry box. He yanked the phone off his nightstand. A large 5:00 overlaid the picture of himself and a whopper trout he’d caught last month. His buddy John Brockman had taken the picture. Seemed good enough for a scene saver.

It was John who called now. At five o’clock in the morning, that only meant one thing. The Auxiliary Deputy team was needed. He slid his thumb across the screen and cleared his throat.

“Hello,” he croaked. Hudson, his black and white Great Dane lifted his head, then lowered it. It was too early for him to get terribly excited, too.

“Brady, man. I’m sorry to wake you, but we got a four-year-old, lost out at Phantom Canyon. The county sheriff and auxiliary rescue team are being summoned.”

“Summoned?” The cobwebs in his brain inter-tangled with her disturbing words from his dream. You summoned me. “Okay. Hoof or foot?”

“Better bring the horse. You can probably cover more ground in a saddle.”

“Right.” He dug his fingers in his hair. “Where are we meeting?”

“Ground zero is Little Grouse Mountain Trail camp area.”

“Right. I’ll be there soon as I can, John.”