Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

LANDON

L andon leaned against the sturdy oak that marked the edge of Copper Canyon Ranch, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of a weathered hand. The sun had begun its descent, throwing long shadows across the rugged landscape and bathing the world in hues of amber and crimson. Despite the day’s labor, the weariness that should have weighed on his muscles was absent, replaced by an electric current of anticipation that thrummed through his veins.

He pushed off from the fence post, his boots moving along the dry earth beneath him. As he surveyed the work he’d finished—the fences mended, the tools gathered—he realized that the dizziness which had plagued him earlier had vanished. So too had the inexplicable buzzing in his head, a sensation he'd dismissed as fatigue or the aftereffect of last night's whiskey. But it was gone now, as if it had never been there at all, leaving him strangely attuned to his surroundings.

The air was ripe with the scent of sage and pine, mingling with the more primal odors of leather and sweat. Each breath he took seemed to clear his mind, heighten his senses, draw him closer to an implicit truth he couldn't quite grasp. He stared out into the distance, to the road that wound its way toward Redstone, and felt a pull in his chest—a yearning for something just out of reach.

‘Thinking about her?’ the voice inside his head teased.

"Maybe," Landon replied, his tone laced with that irreverent humor he was known for.

‘Can't say I blame you,’ the voice continued. ‘She's got that look about her. Like she's running from something... or someone.’

"Or maybe running towards something. Or someone," Landon mused aloud, though he kept his gaze fixed on the horizon. His thoughts were a jumble of images: Dakota's fierce eyes, the set of her shoulders, the curve of her lips when they hinted at a smile.

‘Careful,’ the voice warned softly. ‘That kind of fire can burn a man alive.’

"Then let it burn," Landon breathed, feeling a grin tug at his lips. He didn't fear the flames; he embraced them. And he knew, with a certainty that settled deep in his bones, that whatever connection pulsed between him and Dakota was no mere flicker—it was a blaze waiting to be stoked.

As the sky darkened, Landon gathered his things with deliberate slowness, each movement precise and unhurried. There was power in patience, in the slow building of arousal that wrapped around him like the night's embrace.

"Goodnight," he said to the emptying fields, to the ranch that had borne witness to countless sunsets and would see countless more. But tonight was different; tonight held promise.

Landon headed toward the road and Redstone, spurred on by instincts honed under the Texas skies and the whisper of an allure that beckoned him forward. Something incredible had found its way to Copper Canyon, and Landon Savage was not one to turn his back on destiny.

The last glimmers of sunset painted a fiery silhouette around the edges of Copper Canyon, but its beauty was lost on him. His mind was wrapped tight around the image of Dakota's retreating figure, the way her hair had caught the dying light, the subtle sway of her hips that whispered secrets to his senses.

"Dammit," he muttered under his breath, his heart a curious mix of frustration and adrenaline.

Letting her go, watching her disappear—it clawed at him, an itch he couldn't scratch. Landon knew better than anyone the follies of acting on impulse, the reckless decisions he'd made that still echoed in the cool evening air. But this? This wasn't just impulsive; it felt necessary. Essential, like drawing breath.

"Stupid," he chastised himself, yet he couldn't shake the certainty that gripped him—the conviction that letting Dakota walk away would be an error he'd regret more deeply than any other. It was a feeling more profound than mere attraction, more binding than the casual flirtations that usually danced through his days. It was as if the very earth beneath his feet demanded action.

His fingers tightened on the leather strap of his tool bag, its weight a solid reminder of reality, even as his thoughts spun with possibilities and what-ifs. He glanced in the direction of Redstone, the lights of the town a soft glow on the horizon in the encroaching darkness. Between here and there, that's where he would find her, where he needed to be.

Without a backward glance, Landon turned the ATV toward the road and away from the compound. He couldn't explain the pull, the invisible thread that seemed to tug him after Dakota with an urgency that left no room for doubt. He didn't need explanations—not when every instinct he possessed screamed that she was important, that she mattered in ways he hadn't yet unraveled.

The road to Redstone stretched before him, the first stars of twilight starting their vigil overhead. With his things gathered and his focus laser-sharp, Landon set off after her—she couldn’t have gotten that far on foot. He was determined to catch up with Dakota, to decipher the allure that tied her to him, as unavoidable as the moon's call to his hidden nature.

The notion of fated mates had always been a tale for others—a myth spun by elders and romantics—until his brother had experienced just that. Yet, as Landon moved through the twilight shadows, he couldn't shake the feeling that destiny had played its hand. He was drawn to her in a way he’d never been to anyone else. Inside his mind, his wolf reared its head and howled—could it be his wolf knew more than he did? Could Dakota have some kind of latent wolf blood? The very idea sent a shiver down his spine, not of fear, but of recognition. It was as if a piece of the sky had descended upon him, profound and unfathomable.

"Damn," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a growl lost to the wilderness. He had seen enough in life to know that coincidence rarely painted the full picture. Each glance from Dakota had been a piece of the puzzle his soul yearned to solve.

Concern gnawed at him when he recalled the state she'd been in—those worn shoes, evidence of many miles, and the dark circles haunting her eyes like specters of sleepless nights. He could still see the way her gaze flickered with a mix of defiance and exhaustion, a silent plea that tugged at something primal within him.

"Trust is earned on its own damn time," he said to the darkening sky. He knew he would have to tread carefully, to listen more than speak. Dakota was a fortress with walls built from necessity, and if he moved too fast or too recklessly, she might vanish like mist at the break of dawn. As the road began to level out, Landon slowed his pace, his senses attuned to everything around him.

"Play it by ear, Savage," he said, reaffirming his resolve. He had learned long ago that the land spoke to those who listened; perhaps the same could be said for people, especially ones as complex and compelling as Dakota.

With a final look at the town ahead, Landon steeled himself for the encounters to come. There was no turning back now; the trail he followed was one of whispers and wonder, of shadows and sighs. And though the unknown lay heavy on his shoulders, there was no denying the thrill that came with the chase, the promise of what lay just beyond reach.

As he closed the distance between himself and Dakota, night draped around him like a cloak, stars twinkling with a secret knowing above. He stopped the ATV and walked towards her, his breath came out steadily, visible in the crisp air, mingling with the earthy scent of sagebrush and dust.

When he finally caught up to her, his heart clenched at the sight. She seemed barely able to put one foot in front of the other, her silhouette wavering like a candle flame on the brink of being snuffed out. He reached her just as she stumbled, his hands instinctively shooting out to steady her as he stopped alongside her.

"Whoa, there," he said gently, noting how her body tensed at his touch. "You look about ready to fall over."

Dakota's eyes met his, and even in the dim light, he could see the exhaustion etched into her features. "I'm fine," she insisted, though her voice was a mere thread of sound, thinned by weariness.

Landon shook his head, a wry smile tugging at his lips, softening the concern in his gaze. "No, darlin', you're far from fine. Let me take you to the ranch and give you a ride wherever it is you’re going.”

She hesitated, pride and vulnerability warring in the depths of her eyes. It took everything in him not to wrap her in his arms then and there, but he held back, giving her space to make her own decision.

"All right," she conceded. "But only because my feet are staging a mutiny."

"Fair enough," he replied, the relief evident in his voice.

Leading her back to where he'd left his ATV parked under the twisted branches of an old mesquite, Landon fetched a helmet from the storage compartment. He handed it to her, the gesture bridging the gap between them with unsaid promises of protection.

"Here, put this on," he instructed, watching as she slipped the helmet over her tousled hair. "It's got a built-in mic and speakers so we can talk on our way back." In answer to her eyebrow arched in question. “I know I should have used them earlier, but I knew it was going to be a short ride, and we weren’t on pavement.”

While both of those things were true, the main reason was he hadn’t wanted her face obscured in any way when he caught a glimpse of her—either over his shoulder or in the mirror on the handlebars—and he’d liked the feeling of her head resting against his back.

She nodded, fumbling slightly with the strap beneath her chin, and Landon's fingers brushed against hers as he helped secure it. The brief contact sent a jolt through him, a current of electricity that surged beneath his skin.

"Ready?" he asked, once the helmet was fitted snugly.

"Let's go," Dakota replied, her voice sounding clear through the speakers, laced with a determination that belied her frail state.

He swung onto the ATV, the engine rumbling to life beneath him, and extended a hand to help her up behind him. She hesitated only for a heartbeat before grasping it, her touch sending another shockwave through him.

As they started toward the ranch, the night air whipped around them, carrying the whispers and weight of secrets and silent truths. Landon focused on the path ahead, the feel of Dakota's presence against his back grounding him. The road stretched out before them, shrouded in mystery and moonlight, leading them back to the heart of Copper Canyon—and whatever fate awaited them there.

The ATV's engine growled like a restless beast as Landon navigated down the worn path along the fence, the scent of dust and sagebrush thick in the air. Dakota clung to him, her body a warm counterpoint to the cool night that shrouded them in shadows. Overhead, the moon began to rise in the obsidian sky, a cold-hearted orb indifferent to the unfolding drama below.

"Tell me about yourself, Dakota," Landon's voice crackled through the helmet speakers, his tone casual but probing.

Her grip on his waist tightened before she answered. "There's not much to tell. I'm just passing through."

"Nobody's just passing through Redstone without a story," he countered with a hint of humor, trying to entice her into opening up.

"Maybe some stories are better left untold," she replied, her voice carrying a guarded edge that piqued his curiosity.

Landon chuckled softly, the sound mingling with the rustle of wind through the surrounding pines. "Fair enough. But you've got someone out there looking out for you, right?"

"I can look after myself," she murmured.

He shared anecdotes from his youth, tales of misadventures with his brothers, and the challenges of ranch life under the vast Texas skies. His words flowed easily, a stream of openness that contrasted with her reticence. Dakota listened, her silence a canvas upon which he painted vivid images of his world.

As if drawn by unseen threads, Landon's gaze shifted to the side mirror, catching a glimpse of Dakota's reflection. The moonlight haloed her, casting her features into relief. She exuded an undeniable air of confidence and resilience, yet even in the dim light, he spotted a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes—a fleeting shadow that spoke of weariness and wariness.

Intrigued by her mysterious presence, Landon felt the spark of connection between them intensify, a current that charged the space within their shared cocoon of helmets and leather. This woman, with her mysterious aura and defiant spirit, ignited something primal within him. His wolf stirred, nostrils flaring as if it, too, sensed the extraordinary pull of her being.

She pulled at him in ways he'd never felt before, never experienced. It was a sensation that defied logic, the kind of magnetic draw that spoke of destiny and desire. Landon, who had roamed these lands with the freedom of the winds, found himself ensnared by the allure of a woman whose soul seemed to dance just beyond his reach, her story was shrouded in the velvet darkness of the night.

The ATV's engine hummed a low, throaty lullaby as Landon guided it through the last stretch of shadow-laced wilderness, the looming silhouette of the barn announcing their arrival at the family’s compound. He pulled up beside the weathered main barn, the scent of hay and earth mingling with the cool night air. With a nod, he signaled for Dakota to dismount, her movements fluid yet cautious, like a fawn stepping into an unknown clearing.

"Wait here a sec," Landon instructed, his voice blending with the rustle of the wind through the nearby trees. Dakota nodded, her eyes reflecting the moonlight, casting about the expansive space with a quiet alertness.

As Landon stowed the ATV in its rightful place, the sound of boots on gravel heralded the approach of his brother and his mate, Colt and Briar. Their figures emerged from the shadows, the familiar outline of his brother somehow intrusive.

"Who's this?" Colt's voice was laced with curiosity as he addressed Dakota, but beneath it lay the challenge of a protective alpha.

"Name's Dakota," she replied, her tone guarded yet polite, her gaze darting briefly toward Landon before resettling on his brother.

Briar offered a smile, sensing the tension that vibrated in the air like static. "Welcome to Copper Canyon Ranch," she said, extending a hand that Dakota hesitated to take.

From his vantage point, Landon observed the scene unfold, noting how Dakota's posture shifted, an invisible wall rising. She was a puzzle in the guise of a weary traveler, her reticence a fortress she'd built, brick by hard-earned brick.

"Thanks," Dakota murmured, accepting Briar's handshake with a firmness that belied the fatigue shadowing her features.

"I was going to give Dakota a lift into town," Landon interjected, keen to rescue her from the well-meaning interrogation of his family. “Ready to go?” He could almost see the relief flicker across her face as she turned to him, a silent plea in her gaze.

"Yes, thank you," she acquiesced, her voice carrying a depth that tugged at something primal within Landon, stirring his wolf's curiosity and concern.

He escorted her to his fully restored vintage pickup. The drive into Redstone was a relatively quiet affair, the purr of the engine punctuating their silence.

“Where did you want me to let you off?” he asked.

“Is there a diner? I love diners.”

“I could buy you dinner,” he offered.

She shook her head. “Thanks, Landon, but I’ve taken up enough of your time and I’m worn out. I don’t think I’d be very good company.”

Landon stole another glance at Dakota, who seemed lost in thought, the neon glow from the diner's sign casting a warm halo around her as they pulled up.

"Thanks again, Landon," she said as he helped her out, her words sincere but distant, as if spoken from across a great chasm.

"Sure you're good?" His question lingered between them, weighted with the offer of more than just a ride.

"Yes," Dakota assured him, her eyes holding his with an intensity that spoke volumes. "I'll be fine."

Landon wanted to believe her, to trust in the strength he'd glimpsed beneath her vulnerable exterior. But as he watched her stride toward the diner, her shoulders squared against the world, doubt gnawed at him like a persistent chill.

Reluctantly, he got back in his truck. "All right then. Take care, Dakota," he said, with that half-smile that hinted at secrets and shared confidences.

"Always do," she replied, but her voice faltered, betraying the weariness she was feeling.

He tipped his hat and started the engine, heading back to the ranch. As he drove away, the image of Dakota disappearing into the diner haunted him, the echo of her presence lingering like a ghostly caress against his senses. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was leaving behind more than just a troubled woman—he was parting with a piece of his soul, inexplicably entwined with hers in ways he couldn't yet understand.