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.