BrightBlueMoon (4 page)

“I know.” She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the front of his shirt. “I know. And that was what made it so hard. I had my doubts sometimes, but deep down, I knew that something had happened. And I never knew whether you were alive or dead. Seeing that hiker today was like… Like seeing you, in a way.

“I might’ve found you dead one day. Or the police might have. Then you wouldn’t be here now. You wouldn’t be holding me. I’d never see you again.”

“I am.” His chest constricted, driving the broken pieces deeper. “I’m here now.”

“That poor girl is going to see her fiancé any minute now, if she hasn’t already, and she’ll know it’s all over.” Her voice finally cracked, and as silent seconds slipped by, the wet heat of her tears soaked his shirt.

She was good at crying silently – too good. How many times had she done so after he’d left, after she’d been abandoned to raise Mandy on her own?

“Sorry, Kimberly.” It was an apology from the bottom of his starved heart, from the very marrow in his bones. The best choice – the necessary choice – hadn’t been the easy choice. Even now, he felt its harshness, knew he’d never get those twenty-nine years with his mate and his daughter back. “Damn it, I can’t tell you how sorry.”

She made a sound he couldn’t describe – not a sob and not a laugh, maybe something in between. Then, before he could question it, she rocked up onto her tiptoes and pressed her mouth against his.

Her lips were hot, wet and salty – she’d been crying harder than he’d realized. Still, he relished the contact, the pressure – the sweet taste that filled his mouth as he slipped his tongue past her lips and teeth, driving their first kiss in nearly three decades deep.

She leaned into him, like she couldn’t get enough, and a sense of victory rose up inside him, as feral and ferocious as the wolf he’d been for ages, the animal that had operated on brutal instinct and carefully-preserved hope for a better future. One that involved her.

Living on the run, hunting the Gruens while they’d hunted him right back, had meant shoving all emotions and desires aside. Trying, anyway. Letting instinct and bloodlust guide him as he fought a fight that had been necessary, if not good. Now that that was over, he’d spent the past week trying to remove those iron bands from around his heart, allowing it to expand and feel again, to beat in time to another’s. Kimberly’s.

It was easiest when she touched him. A brush of her hand, her lips – even her hair – and his body prickled with remembrance, pulling some neglected part of his soul to the surface. He forgot about the blood on his hands and remembered that there was more to being alive than fighting tooth, claw and bullet to stay that way.

Her tongue twined with his, friction heating their mouths and bodies as she pressed herself against him, writhing slightly, her body soft and promising against his painfully hard cock. When he rocked back into her, pressing her against the doorframe, she gasped.

Still, they didn’t lose contact, didn’t end the kiss. It went on and on, and he didn’t want to stop – he could tear her clothes off right there, strip her naked and get her onto the bed behind them without ever breaking the seal their lips had formed. He could take her that way, his tongue deep in her mouth as he buried himself even deeper between her thighs.

He could practically feel the quilt against his forearms, her naked body beneath his. A shudder raced through him and…

Damn
. A bolt of heat shot straight to his groin, and he rocked against her again, unable to resist. His shaft felt ready to split as is slid up her belly, aching beneath his jeans.

“Mmm. What’s that?” She tipped her head back with a gasp, her eyes focusing slowly, staring over his shoulder.

“Just your phone,” he said, unable to keep from breathing hard as he held on to her, one hand on her hip and the other still in her hair, itching to guide her back to him. His lips felt hot, tingling. Almost bruised. Hers looked swollen, and the sight amped his raging desire up even higher.

The electronic melody coming from the kitchenette died out, and he crushed his mouth against hers again, picking up where they’d left off.

She responded enthusiastically … until her phone rang again.

“What if something’s going on with Mandy?” she asked, her expression pained. “The baby…”

He relinquished his hold on her, though it went against every natural instinct he had. “Better go answer it.”
 

She rushed to the kitchen, hair flying behind her reddened cheeks.

He watched her go, eyeing the tight heart shape of her ass beneath her jeans, the long lines of her legs. Time hadn’t stolen the willowy figure he’d been admiring since the first time he’d eyed her from across a bar, where she’d carried trays of drinks and food with a natural grace. Softened it a little, maybe, but not at all in a bad way – her hips and breasts were a little fuller than he remembered, and he couldn’t take his eyes off them.
 

God, she was beautiful. And she was his. His heart surged, sending what blood that wasn’t below his belt straight to his head, giving him a rush.

Being back in the real world – being around others again – was staggering to his senses and his mind. Sometimes it felt like he’d spent the past couple decades being colorblind, and now, everywhere he looked the world was bright and vivid again, almost overwhelming, colorful in ways he’d forgotten it could be. The least little thing – the cookies Mandy had made, the sound of a friendly voice – were extraordinary, and Kimberly was absolutely otherworldly.

He liked it. Sometimes it left him reeling for a few seconds, frozen by disbelief, but he liked it.

“Hello?” Kimberly picked up her cell phone, and after a couple seconds, her eyes went wide. “Really? Are you sure?”

More silence.

“Okay... I’ll let him know.” She ended the call and set the phone down, turning to Michael again.

“Let me know what?” A prickle of unease zipped down his spine. It occurred to him that something might be wrong, and the world instantly felt darker. More real.

“That was Mandy. According to Jack, Ronnie says that some members of the search party who found the hiker – after us, I mean – have gotten a real bee in their bonnet over the footprints and the bite marks found on the body. Jack wants everyone to lie low just in case – avoid that area for now, especially in wolf form.”

Michael nodded as his uneasiness began to ebb. It wasn’t like he had any desire to return to the scene of the accident. “Hell, I don’t even want to leave the cabin.” A fresh wave of lust swept through him, pounding in his temples.

She smiled, her swollen lips curling slowly, and an answering light flashed in her eyes, nearly bringing him to his knees.

He went to her, reached for her, drawing her up hard against the front of his body, right in the middle of the kitchen. The bed was farther away than ever now, but he couldn’t wait. Nearby, the tabletop was empty, inviting.

“Mmm.” She moaned as he pressed his mouth against the side of her neck, teasing with tongue and teeth, unable to resist biting a little.

God, what would it be like to mark her? The thought streaked through his consciousness like a comet, setting his imagination on fire. She wasn’t a wolf, but… She was his. A part of him ached to do it, and just the thought of seeing his mark on her skin made him want to come. Unable to resist, he pushed her shirt away, baring one of her shoulders, pulling her bra strap aside.

Her exposed, milky flesh called to him, making his blood sing in his veins. What would she say if he suggested it? Did she even know how wolf shifters marked their mates? Would she think he was crazy – barbaric – or would she be turned on by the idea? He could even think of a way to let her reciprocate, somehow…

A frisson raced down his spine at the idea of her returning the branding – the idea of bleeding for her – and blossomed into heat in his groin, reminding him how hard his dick was, how badly he needed to feel her wrapped around it. Throbbing, he looked down, past her shoulder, and saw that her shirt gaped, exposing her cleavage to his view.

Her bra had slid down on the side where he’d loosened the strap, and her breast spilled over the top of the cup, one pink nipple pointing in a hardened peak. He groaned and bent, trailing kisses over her collarbone, his mouth watering.

Her nipple shrank as soon as his lips brushed it, going even harder, her skin pebbling as he dragged the tip of his tongue across the bud, circled it, then drew it deep into his mouth.
 

She arched against him and he sucked harder, cupping her breast from below, through her shirt. Her flesh was soft and sweet and hotter than he’d expected, heaven to have inside his mouth. He was too ravenous to be gentle, but she seemed to like it, digging her nails into his shirt and scraping his chest as she gasped, arching until her back was bowed beneath his hand, a perfect curve.

When a loud banging noise shattered the sounds of her pleasure, only fighting instincts honed by years of hunting and being hunted allowed him to pull away, shoving his lust aside as the world went dark around him.

CHAPTER 3

Kimberly gave one more shuddering gasp as Michael straightened, released her, and turned toward the door, ready to tear apart whoever was knocking so obnoxiously.

Adrenaline pumped through his veins, splintering his desire into jagged, needle-sharp pieces as he reached for the knob. It wasn’t likely to be a member of the pack – not when Kimberly had just spoken with Mandy on the phone. Besides, whoever was there was knocking like an idiot, rattling the door in its frame as Michael twisted the knob.

“What the hell’s going on?” His anger spiked as he laid eyes on a thirty-something man with dark brown eyes and hair, dressed in khakis and a t-shirt that was stretched tight over a generous paunch. Behind him, a tall red-headed male and a young, raven-haired female stood to either side.

“I believe you’re in our cabin.” The khakied ringleader looked Michael up and down, his eyes darting above cheeks that had been reddened by the effort of knocking so vigorously. “
Sir
.”

“You’ve got the wrong one. This cabin is booked.” He eyed the nearby road, shadowed by pines and the star-studded night. “Good luck finding the place you’re lookin’ for.” He pushed the door shut, but the obnoxious tourist had the nerve to stick out a foot, wedging a tennis shoe between the door and the frame. “Pine Ridge Road. Cabin Number 4. This is the right place – it’s right there.” He jabbed a finger at the number by the door.

“This may be Cabin Number 4, but it’s not
your
cabin.” Michael resisted the urge to simply shove the man out of the way, maybe blacken his eye for good measure, considering the hour – it was well past midnight. The intrusion would’ve been ludicrous in any circumstance, and given what it had interrupted…
 

Michael ground his teeth, longing for his fangs as a growl threatened to erupt in the pit of his chest despite the fact that he didn’t dare shift in front of these asshats. “We have this place rented and we’re not leavin’ any time soon, let alone in the middle of the night. Who the hell do you think you are?”

The man with his sneaker wedged in the doorway didn’t miss a beat. “Gus Oliver.” He arched one thick, ill-defined brow. “I spoke to the owner of this cabin just a few hours ago. We’re renting it now, starting tonight. Tough luck.”

He had nerve, Michael had to give him that – the kind of nerve only an absolute idiot who was used to getting his way for God knew what reason would have. “You listen here,
Gus
– head down the mountain and into Gatlinburg. Big tourist town, lit up from here to Kingdom Come – you can’t miss it, and you’ll find plenty of motels there. Pick one and worry about finding a vacation cabin in the morning.” He nodded toward a monster of a black SUV that was idling in the drive. “Whatever you do, don’t come back here. I promise you’ll regret it if you do.”

At long last, Gus withdrew his foot, grimacing as he shot Michael a look of pure disgust. “Can you believe this guy?” He swung his head toward his companions, scoffing.

The girl glanced nervously at Michael then looked at Gus, her dark eyes flicking toward the SUV. “It’s late, Gus. Let’s just find a motel like he said.”

The redhead just looked bored.

“If I wanted a freaking motel, I would’ve booked a freaking motel!” Gus leered at the girl.
 

“You made us drive all the way up this mountain to see a cabin that’s already taken,” the redhead said, frowning as Gus shot their female companion a mean look. “It would’ve been smarter to book a motel.”

Gus threw his hands into the air, looking beleaguered. “Am I the only one who gives a shit about what we came here to do? A motel. God, a motel! Like I—”

Michael pushed the door the rest of the way open, forcing Gus to stumble backward in order to avoid being bowled over. “I’m not gonna listen to you make an ass out of yourself for one more minute. Get out of here, before I make you.”

The girl turned on one heel, striding quickly toward the SUV.

The redhead followed at a more leisurely pace, leaving Gus alone.

Deprived of his reluctant entourage, Gus deflated a little, turning with one last grimace in Michael’s direction. “We’ll go find the freaking caretaker then,” he said as he lumbered toward the vehicle. “The owner said to go to him if we had any trouble.”