Jake had followed his instincts into a lot of places, some dangerous, some boring, some that led nowhere, though most of the time they led him right where he needed to go. He had good instincts, accepted them as a gift from God, the same way he did the desire for hunting that Phoebe had so neatly nailed.
What kept him sniffing until he was certain there was nothing left to smell—well, that was sometimes gift, sometimes curse, depending on the situation. The fact was he couldn’t stop going forward until he got what he was after. It was the way he was. He’d put his life on the line, come close to losing it more times than he admitted to his mom, but this—Phoebe—was uncharted territory for him.
Not the desire, he knew about desire, knew how to channel it into less dangerous byways before it
