by Keri Arthur
"Savannah?"
Cade's sharp question made her jump. “What?"
His gaze had narrowed. “What just happened?"
She drew in a shaky breath. “I have a sister living here. A very pregnant twin sister. I just ordered her to get her butt over to the Sinclair mansion."
"You have a twin?” Surprise etched his voice.
She nodded. “If this person intends to come after me, then Neva is a very good target. She's all I really care about."
He raised his eyebrow. “What about your parents? Don't you care about them?"
"Of course I care about them, but we haven't seen eye to eye for ages. Most people here in town know that."
"You're presuming this person is from Ripple Creek."
"No, I'm presuming this person has done their homework. Neva is the most logical target if someone really wants to hurt me."
"And what about your lover?"
Her gaze narrowed at his derogatory tone. “What about him?"
"Isn't he also a logical target?"
"Not when no one in town knows about us."
"Supposedly, no one knows about you and me, either."
"Ronan does."
He raised an eyebrow. “You told him?"
"Of course I told him. I refuse to sneak around behind anyone's back."
His grimace was somehow touched with sadness. “Yeah, I know."
Her gaze searched his. “Sounds as if you would have preferred me to sneak."
"I would have preferred you not to go at all."
Her stupid heart did an odd little dance, though heaven only knows why. It wasn't as if he'd been jealous. To be jealous, you had to actually care, and he never had. It was more likely the fact that she wasn't there when he wanted her. “That was never an option."
"There are always options, Vannah."
She snorted. “Like you had the option of telling me the truth?"
"That was never an option I had."
Too many things weren't on his list of options when it came to her, apparently. “Look, let's not get into this here."
"No.” He studied her for a second, his gaze hot, heavy. The smell of his desire washed across her senses, teasing her, caressing her, making her more ready for him than she'd ever been with anyone else. All without even touching her.
The worst thing was, she knew it wasn't the moon but the man himself. He was the fuel to her fire.
And he knew it, damn him.
He stepped so close that if she hadn't been breathing in as he breathed out, they would have touched. Each breath he released was a warm rasp of air that touched her lips, making them tingle. And that tingle flushed across her body, tiny footsteps of desire that eventually pooled low in her body. “Don't,” she said softly.
"I made a promise. I intend to keep it.” His eyes glittered at her. Dared her. “But you made no such pledge. You can touch me anytime you want."
And she did want to touch him. Badly.
"I intend to stick with the conditions I set."
"The moon will make that impossible, and you know it."
Maybe she did. But that didn't mean she had to give in the minute he crooked his little finger. Sure, she'd probably be a needy mess by the end of the day—if she made it to the end of the day—but she sure as hell wasn't going to be easy. Not this time.
And certainly not with the possibility of a reporter running around.
"We have work to do,” she said resolutely.
A condescending smile touched his lips. Lips she ached to kiss.
"You can't hold out forever, Vannah."
No. But she sure was going to hold out for as long as she could. At the very least, it was one way of showing him she wasn't the person he thought she was.
And right now she had no desire to explore why it was so important that he realize that was the point.
* * * *
Somehow, Savannah made it through the long afternoon and into the early evening. But God, it was hard.
She rubbed a hand across her eyes and leaned against the side of her car. She was so tired her eyeballs felt ready to fall out of her head, and so damn hungry she was ready to shift shape and hunt rabbits. And that was something she hadn't done since she was barely a teenager.
But both of those problems were nothing compared to the fever. It burned so badly it felt like her skin was on fire. Worst thing was she couldn't go back to the office when she was radiating desire like this, simply because it wasn't fair to the males on her team. She wouldn't fulfill the promise her hormones were sending out, and she certainly didn't want to place them in an uncomfortable position. Especially Ronan, who was more attuned to her scent because they'd been lovers.
Of course, there was one very simple way to cure the problem. Make like a bunny with Cade. She'd stop emoting the minute her hormones were sated. All she had to do then was keep them that way.
She blew out a breath and glanced up the road. Anton had driven up here earlier, and he and Cade had made a plaster mold of the smudged tracks they'd found. Then the two men had proceeded to search the forest to see if they could find exactly where the watcher had been standing. She'd been sent down to this end of the road like some unimportant underling to stop anyone coming up—an order she couldn't exactly rail against, because she knew the reason behind it. The fever—and the fact that Anton would undoubtedly become aware of it if he spent more than a few minutes in her company.
And even though her past relationship with Cade was something that would have to become known to everyone on this case, the fact that the two of them were once again involved wasn't.
Which meant she had one choice, and only one choice, about what she had to do next.
And the wild part of her was more than a little excited about it. Truth be told, the saner part was, too.
She crossed her arms and glanced up the mountain again. Dusk was settling in across the skies, and the evening chill was already frosting the night air. Surely the two men would be down soon. They wouldn't be able to see much in this gloom.
Even as the thought crossed her mind, the sound of an engine cut across the hush, then headlights hit her, pinning her in brightness. She raised her hand to protect her eyes, squinting as she watched the four-wheel drive approach. Even though it hadn't rained, the truck had a tendency to slide.
Which meant it would have been so much worse the night before. And it also pointed out the fact that the driver of the vehicle she'd heard roaring off was very good, because there was no sign of impact either along this road or across the main road. If the driver had slid, he'd maintained very good control.
Another point in Nelle's favor. She couldn't drive, though it had been ten years since Savannah had seen her, which was more than enough time to learn.
Anton slid his vehicle to a stop, and Cade stepped out. The fading slivers of sunlight caught the flickers of mahogany and silver in his dark hair, making them shine against the rising tide of night.
He didn't approach her, didn't even look at her, until Anton had disappeared down the road that led back to town. “The day has gone,” he said, his voice a low vibration of sound that had her hormones skipping excitedly. “I can now officially touch you."
Please, the wild part of her practically begged. Please. “I will not make out here like some overheated teenager."
His eyes gleamed with the amusement that touched his lips, reminding her of the times they had made out like overheated teenagers.
"Then where?” he asked.
"My lodge.” Where else could they go? It was the only place that was in any way secure. And if the murderer had done his homework, it wasn't exactly safe, either.
"Now?"
"Now,” she confirmed, and clicked open the car.
"Good."
His voice was little more than a growl, and a tremor of anticipation ran through her. It was going to be good. Fast, but so very good.
The drive back to town was quiet, but it was filled with a simmering tension
that had sweat breaking out across her skin. Yet, despite the urgency that beat in time with every thump of her heart, she wasn't about to make the mistake of driving straight to her lodge. Town gossip was not something she needed to deal with on top of everything else.
She stopped at his hotel and glanced at him. “If I don't see you in ten minutes, I'll start without you."
"Don't even think about it,” he all but snarled.
Oh yeah, she thought with a slight smile. He was feeling the moon every bit as badly as she. She took off, the wheels skidding on the stones, undoubtedly flinging mini missiles over his retreating back. She made it to the lodge without seeing anyone she knew and did a quick look around to ensure the place was safe. Then she headed down to the small room that had become a substitute bedroom.
She felt Cade's arrival long before she saw him. His presence was like a fierce wind before a summer storm, and it battered her senses just as badly.
The rich aroma of sage and tangerine swirled around her, teasing her nostrils and raising her anticipation. Footsteps echoed on the wooden floors—firm, deliberate steps, drawing ever closer. She stripped off her clothes, laying them across the arm of the sofa, and then turned to face him as he entered the small room.
His gaze skidded down her body and then rose to meet hers. “You smell ready for me, Vannah."
She walked towards him, watching the heat and desire flare brighter in his eyes. “You have no idea how ready."
She tangled her hands in his silky, almost too-short hair and drew him down so she could kiss him. But there was nothing gentle, nothing innocent, about their kiss. It was hard, urgent, and fierce. And totally, utterly, glorious.
He wrapped a hand around her rump, lifting her up then moving her backwards. She grunted as her back hit the wall, and then she wrapped her legs around him, pushing herself against the heated hardness of his erection. He thrust against her, pressing places that ached and pulsed for his closeness, sending shivers of delight racing across her skin. She groaned, rubbing herself against him, reveling in the glory of it and yet needing to feel so much more than flesh contained by material.
She unwrapped her legs, letting them slide down his body until her feet touched the floor. With shaking, urgent fingers, she undid his shirt, his pants. He kicked off his shorts and lifted her again. She'd barely wrapped her legs around his waist and he was in her, filling her, liquefying her. His thick groan of pleasure was a sound she echoed. Then he began to move, and thought became impossible. All she could do was move with him, savoring and enjoying the sensations flowing through her. As his strokes became fierce, so did she, riding him hard, until the power of their mating shook her entire body. The rich ache spread like wildfire through her, becoming a kaleidoscope of sensations that washed through every corner of her mind. Then the shuddering took hold and she gasped, grabbing his shoulders, holding him closer, thrusting him deeper. His movements became more urgent, his body driving deep inside hers, touching that one special spot, over and over and over.
She came as he did, his roar echoing through her ears as she twitched and moaned in sheer enjoyment.
When they were both able to breathe again, he leaned his sweaty forehead against hers and sighed. His breath was warm, almost sweet, as it caressed her lips and chin, stirring her barely sated hormones to sluggish life.
"Dear God,” he said softly, “I don't think I could have held off a moment longer."
A smile touched her lips. “Lost some of your laudable control over the years, have you?"
He pulled back a little. The odd seriousness in his dark eyes made her pulse skip, then race. “There was never anything controlled about us. Not once we actually met, anyway."
Part of her desperately wanted to believe that statement, to believe that he'd been as much a prisoner of passion as she'd been. But the simple truth was, his actions denied his words—then and now.
"Everything about us was controlled—from the minute you walked onto the commune grounds to the moment you raided my mind. All of it was planned to achieve one goal."
"To catch a killer,” he agreed.
"So how can you say it wasn't controlled?"
"I didn't say the situation wasn't controlled. I said we weren't."
She raised an eyebrow. “There's a difference?"
He slid his hands under her rump, supporting her as he moved away from the wall and walked toward the sofa. “A big difference."
"I wouldn't have thought so."
He kicked the lever that folded down the back of the sofa and placed her on the worn cushions. He stretched out beside her, throwing one leg over hers and drawing her so close that skin pressed against skin, letting her feel every beat of his heat, every intake of breath. It felt good. Almost too good. But the sofa wasn't all that big, and there was no point in trying to retreat because there just wasn't room.
And if she told herself that often enough, she might even believe it.
"Different or not, it doesn't really matter any more, does it?” he said.
"No.” But it did, if only because one tiny part of her was still so desperate to hold on to the dream, even if that dream was not one he'd ever share. “But that doesn't mean there's no need to talk about what went on between us."
As he leaned back a little and idly flicked a nipple with a gentle finger, an almost insolent smile touched his luscious lips. In the sharpening coldness of the night, it was an almost painful sensation. And yet, at the same time, very arousing.
"Leave it in the past, Vannah. Dragging up old wounds won't achieve anything."
His head dipped and his teeth grazed her aching nipples. She shivered, barely resisting the urge to arch her back and raise her breasts for his dining pleasure.
His teeth skimmed her areola, then caught a nipple and pulled lightly. She gasped, caught between pleasure and pain, and loving every unexpected minute of it.
"I need to move on with my life,” she somehow managed to say.
He didn't answer, simply shifted and grazed his way up to her neck, her ears, her lips. His gaze caught hers, and again, there was an energy, an anger, gleaming in those navy depths that stirred something deep inside her.
She was pretty sure that what she felt was fear, because Cade had hurt her once, and if she wasn't very careful, he could do so again. And the anger that burned deep in his gaze suggested that while the moon was driving them together, it was a more basic need that was fueling him now.
The need to fully reclaim what was once his.
His next words confirmed her thoughts. “There will be no moving on until the moon and I are done with you."
"The moon only gives you four more nights,” she said bluntly. “And if we survive this, I want to move on. From the past and from you."
Something dark and dangerous flashed in his eyes. He didn't answer, just claimed her mouth with a kiss that was fiercely possessive and so damn hot it felt as if she would explode into flames.
From then on, there was no talking, just touching and caressing and tasting. She explored his body, imprinting his scent, his salty, seductive and oh-so masculine taste, on every sensory level, until all she could feel, all she could smell, all she wanted, was him.
He returned the favor, leaving no part of her upper body untouched or unexplored. He nipped her, caressed her, licked her, discovering erogenous zones long ignored and bringing her to the edge of orgasm time and again. But he never let the wave crest. He backed away each time, waiting until the tremors eased before starting it all over again. He did this until her skin was slick with sweat and desire, and all she could think about, all she wanted, was to get him inside. To feel the rigid length of him sliding deep and hard into her.
But if he sensed her need, he was ignoring it, because his touch and his lips moved down.
When his tongue flicked over her clitoris, she jumped, and a whimper that was part frustration and part a plea for more, escaped her lips. He chuckled softly, his breath fiery against her moist skin. Then he su
ckled on her, and she came with such a thunderous roar that her neighbors would have surely heard her had they been home.
The tremors hadn't even begun to ease when he shifted over her. His flesh was as slick as hers, and his body trembled with his effort at control. She wrapped her legs around his hips, trying to force him closer, desperate to feel him inside. When he pressed himself against her, she whimpered, wanting the whole damn length of him, not just the tip.
"Vannah,” he said, and in his voice there was an edge of command she could not ignore.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. The depths of his eyes were filled with that dark danger she'd glimpsed earlier, and in that moment she knew what he was about to do.
"Don't,” she said quickly.
He either didn't hear her, or he didn't want to hear her, because energy touched the air, fluttering across her skin like a thousand tiny sparks. The power of the moon, coming to life once again.
All he said was, “You are mine, and only mine, until I say otherwise."
Oh God, oh God ... What the hell was she going to do? He was using the moon to bind her past the time of their first pledge, and thanks to the promise she'd so innocently made, there wasn't one damn thing she could do about it.
Damn the moon, she thought viciously. And damn him for taking the moon-given power and twisting the spirit of it to his own ends.
"I am only yours until the power of the moon ends. No longer."
"No.” His voice was intense, full of unforgiving determination. The dance of energy became more frantic, enforcing his words, the need to agree. “Say it."
Goddamn it, he was getting what he wanted, what the moon demanded, so why demand more?
"Bastard."
"Say it. You will be mine until I say otherwise."
"No, damn you. No.” She arched her hips and captured him, driving him deep. He shuddered, and for a moment he moved with her. Then his breath hissed between his teeth and he withdrew.
He didn't say anything, just stared at her with hungry, demanding eyes as the energy burned brighter, wrapping her in heat and the need to obey.
"Damn it, why?” she all but yelled.
"Because I have no intention of calmly sitting on the sidelines and watching you dance with your lover if this case should last more than four days.” He raised a hand and caught her chin, his fingers close to bruising. “Say it."
