Excerpt of The Covering by Dana Pratola

Turning into the drive was the loudest motorcycle she’d
ever heard. At least she assumed it was a motorcycle, it
looked like none she had seen before. The entire
contraption, from the end of the lashing, curved tail to
the tip of the spitting, forked tongue was matte black
with barely a hint of green. Beneath legs poised to
lunge, the tires appeared to devour the pavement. It was
hideous, and at the same time, mesmerizing.

Stunned, she watched it stop inches from the front steps.
The rider, a virtual extension of the machine in matching
black, mercifully shut off the motor and let down the
kickstand with a clever movement of his foot.

Gunnar, no doubt.

She had been practically immobilized by that dreadful
sound, but now she could move again, Tessa didn’t want
to. Even as she watched the man dismount, letting the
machine crouch onto the metal stand, she knew she should
go to the foyer to welcome him properly, but a
bewildering rush of panic kept her feet planted.

As he raised his hands to take off the helmet, she closed
her eyes and sucked in a deep calming breath. When she
opened them, he was gone. Though she didn’t see his face,
she had a hunch it wouldn’t be friendly.

She heard the front door swing open, then shut with a
bang. Solid boot heels struck the hardwood of the foyer
in perfect sync with the thick thudding of her heart.

He was walking in her direction, and if she didn’t move
soon, would discover her frozen there like a rabbit in
crosshairs.

Finding that idea worse than her fear, Tessa strode
toward the foyer. Why should she be afraid of a man just
because he’d been a little short with her on the phone
and rode a motorcycle that looked like a demon? Just
because he was ill mannered and didn’t knock before
entering someone’s house didn’t make him a savage. He was
a friend of her brother.

Of course, her mind countered, he hadn’t known the
address, so how good a friend could he be?

Tessa pushed away her misgivings and swung around the
doorway and into a human wall. She teetered for a second
before landing hard on her butt.

From her seated position, her gaze moved up from scuffed
biker boots and black pants. A matte black helmet dangled
in front of her face and drew her gaze up the arm of a
scarred leather jacket. She couldn’t help noticing that
shoulders filled the doorway.

She guessed right about his face. Definitely unfriendly.
Eyes dark as a night sea glared down at her from beneath
slashing brows, and an unsmiling mouth offered neither
apology nor ease. What she didn’t expect was his hair.
There wasn’t any, only the suggestion of it on a well-
shaped head.

He made no attempt to help her, which surprisingly did
more to bolster her courage than
undercut it. He was a startling sight, but she would not
be unsettled in her own home.
Tessa got to her feet and held out a hand, wishing she’d
inherited her mother’s ability to fabricate a smile on
cue.

“Hello. I’m Tessa,” she said in a voice belying her
nerves.

The man didn’t take her proffered hand, though in an
impatient gesture, elevated the helmet a little in minor
acknowledgement. She put her hand down and skirted past
him.

“This way,” she said.

He followed her to the front of the house, heels drumming
close behind, his eyes hot on her back.

She fought an inexplicable urge to run straight out the
front door.

“Where do I put my bike?” he asked, when Tessa turned to
lead him up the stairs.
His voice, rich and authoritative in person, sent an odd
tingle along her spine.

Tessa moistened her dry lips before she spoke. “You can
bring it around back,” she said, her gaze alighting on
him momentarily before looking away. “On the side of the
house by the shrubbery is fine.” She managed to point in
the general direction.

He shifted his weight, but didn’t speak, waiting it
seemed, for her to look at him.

She did. She could all but feel his penetrating eyes and
was struck with the foolish notion he could absorb her
thoughts. In that case, she needn’t worry since she
couldn’t reasonably form any. Had he asked another
question? Had she answered the first one?

When he turned from her and walked out, Tessa released
the breath she’d been holding. “Stop it,” she chided
herself. “He’s only a man.”

It was true, but this time when the horrific noise began,
Dominic’s Bobblehead collection wasn’t all that quaked.