Beneath a Darkening Moon

by Keri Arthur

  "I hate you.” But she didn't, not badly enough. Not then, and not now.

  "But you want me, don't you?"

  "Yes.” And that was the whole problem. When it came to Cade, control was something she'd never seemed to have enough of.

  "Then that's the only thing that matters. Say the words, Savannah."

  She knew that fighting the compulsion was useless, yet there was no way in hell she would give herself to him on a platter without a fight. So she fought, and the dance of energy became thick and fierce, until it felt as if her entire body was on fire with the compulsion to obey. Eventually, she had no choice but to say the words, “I'm yours, and only yours, until you say otherwise."

  His grin was quick and predatory, a wolf who knew he has won. “Until I say,” he repeated fiercely, and drove deep inside her, claiming her with his body as thoroughly as he had claimed her with his words.

  And as much as she hated his actions, with the moon and her body burning so fiercely, she had no desire to fight him or push him off. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, holding him close as he began to move. She moved with him, savoring and enjoying the sensations flowing through her. Right now, that's all she really had, because his actions tonight had smashed the tiny spark of hope that had lingered in her heart. All he cared about, all he'd ever cared about, was satisfaction—his and hers. Anything else was off the radar. Always had been. She'd been a fool to hope for anything else.

  His strokes became stronger, faster, and once again the sweet pressure began to build inside, until it seemed her whole body ached with the need for release.

  When he came, she went with him, his roar drowning out her own strangled groan as his body slammed into hers so hard the whole sofa seemed to shake.

  But as the power of her own release faded, and the reverberations of his roar grew fainter, she heard the footstep.

  They were no longer alone in the lodge.

  Chapter Six

  Even through the red haze of satisfaction, Cade heard the sound. He froze, listening, as the night air began to chill the sweat on his skin and tension rippled through Vannah's warm body, which was beneath him.

  "You expecting anyone?” he whispered, glancing down. Her green eyes glowed like an angry cat's in the darkness.

  "No.” Her soft voice was curt. “And get off me."

  He did. She rolled swiftly upright, clambering off the sofa and padding to the door. The moonlight filtering in from the windows in the next room caressed her, making her skin gleam like priceless porcelain.

  Desire stirred anew, but he ignored it and rose to stand behind her. Another heavy step echoed across the silence, then another. Cade frowned. Those weren't the steps of someone trying to sneak up on them. Quite the opposite, in fact.

  "I think—"

  "It's Ronan,” she said, at the same time, then added, “I'll go talk to him."

  "Not naked, you won't."

  She turned around. The fury in her eyes should have been warning enough, but he was too busy watching the flicker of the moon's cold light in her glorious golden hair to actually watch what she was doing. He barely had time to register the fact that she'd raised her fist when the blow crashed into his chin with surprising force, snapping his head back and dropping him to the floor. He hit with a bone-crunching grunt and, for a moment, couldn't even breathe.

  "Don't you ever use the moon's magic on me like that again.” She stood at his feet, her fists clenched, and her delicious body quivering with the force of her anger.

  His own anger crashed through him, but desire came with it, so thick and fast it overrode his fury. God, she looked so beautiful standing there, with the heat of her rage warming the moon's porcelain glow on her skin. And though anger still burned, he wasn't exactly sure who he was angry at—her for punching him, or him for being decked so easily by a snippet of a wolf. “Or what?” he retorted. “You'll shoot me?"

  "Shooting is too good for a bastard who abuses the moon gift.” Her gaze skated down his body and came to rest on his cock. “I think a well placed cut or two might be more advantageous."

  "You'll never get that close with a knife, sweetheart, so drop the idea."

  She bared her teeth. “Who needs a knife?"

  He laughed, even though he knew her threat was very real. “Who'd have guessed the sweet wolf I'd promised myself to was such a hellion."

  "Sweet?” She snorted softly. “I was many things, but I was never sweet. As you've already noted.” She glanced over her shoulder briefly and said, “Wait here."

  Wait here, when she was out flaunting her worldly charms to another wolf? Not damn likely. He scrambled to his feet, but the sudden movement had pain shooting through his jaw and cheek. He winced and carefully touched the side of his face. Bruised for sure, and at least one loose tooth.

  She sure could pack a punch. Physically and sexually. Which was why he wasn't about to let her go before this murder case was solved. As much as he knew it was stupid, as much as he understood the risk of getting involved with her again when a madmen hell bent on revenge was out there on the lose, he just couldn't help it. The moon had him in its grip, and there was no fighting it.

  But that didn't exactly explain why he'd prolonged the situation by forcing her to agree to a longer term. Other than the fact that he wasn't about to let another wolf have what he wanted so badly. Not this time, when he could actually do something to stop it. The first time it would have endangered his mission. This time, there was no such restriction, and he'd be damned if he'd share her again.

  He didn't care about the anger his demand had caused. She'd never denied her desire for him, and as long as that desire was still there, he was going to make full use of it. Besides, given the events that had unfolded after her actions ten years ago, his actions tonight barely scratched the surface of payback. At least she wouldn't come out of this bearing physical scars.

  The murmur of conversation dragged him out of his thoughts and got him moving. He strode through the moonlit room and out into the corridor. The two of them were standing down the hall and far too close for his liking. They were talking so softly he couldn't make out what they were saying, but if body language was anything to go by, Ronan wasn't presenting Vannah with news she wanted to hear. As Cade approached the two of them, Ronan looked up, his gaze colliding with Cade's.

  And what he saw in the other man's eyes didn't really surprise him. He'd expected anger and possessiveness, and they were both there, though not in the volumes he'd expected. What he didn't expect was what he found when he skimmed the ranger's thoughts. The reason for those emotions wasn't the fury of a wolf whose turf has been poached, but rather concern for Vannah herself. Beyond that, one clear and definite thought echoed—and it was a warning very evident in the clear gray depths of Ronan's eyes.

  Hurt her, and you're a dead man.

  Cade halted behind Vannah and crossed his arms. “What do you want, ranger?"

  Ronan's gaze skimmed the bruised side of Cade's face, and amusement touched one corner of his mouth. “Trista and Anton are looking for you. Since neither of you are answering your phones, I thought I'd better come up here and warn you before someone else thought of doing so."

  "If my team wanted me, they could have easily found me. I'm tagged with a locator."

  "Then you wouldn't have minded them finding you like this?"

  Ronan's tone suggested he minded very much. Cade resisted the impulse to bite back a comment on who actually had rights when it came to Savannah, but he simply growled, “What do they want?"

  "How would I know? Your people play their cards very close.” He snorted softly. “Anyone would think we were in opposition, rather than on the same side in this investigation."

  Cade ignored the barb. After all, Ripple Creek's rangers weren't exactly forthcoming with information, either. Given the tension emanating from the woman who stood so close to them both, he very much suspected the news about his team wasn't the only reason Ronan had come up here. “Ho
w did the name collecting go today?"

  "A total of fifty-three people have checked in during the two weeks before the murders began. I believe Trista intends to run checks through your system."

  Cade nodded. The IIS had access to a greater range of systems without having to go through the annoying “request for information” procedures the rangers had to go through.

  "Any likely suspects at this stage?"

  "No.” Ronan glanced at Vannah. “I'll see you outside?"

  She nodded. “Give me five minutes to get dressed."

  "What's going on?” Cade said the minute Ronan left.

  She gave him a look full of contempt. “Town business.” She pushed past him and headed for the small room.

  Annoyance flared. Damn it, he had the right to know what was going on—with the case, and with her and Ronan. He followed her, trying to keep his thoughts away from the enticing sway of her hips. The erotic way silken strands of her hair caressed her shoulders and back.

  "What sort of town business?"

  "Not the sort of town business that's any of your business."

  "Savannah,” he warned.

  She grabbed her bra and began putting it on. “Oh, so now you remember my name."

  "Is it anything to do with our case?"

  "If it was, I'd be reporting it, like the good little foot soldier I am."

  "You are not a foot soldier."

  She snorted. “Get real. Reservation rangers are always gophers for you guys. Hell, your lot seems to think we haven't the training to tie our boots properly."

  "I have never treated—"

  "So why is Ronan playing guide to Trista?” She hesitated, and her gaze widened. “You bastard. You were getting him out of your way, weren't you?"

  She was far too quick—which was probably the reason she'd been made head ranger at such a young age. That and the fact that her daddy was the head of the reservation council. “It's always better to have a local on those sorts of info-gathering missions."

  "Please credit me with a little intelligence.” She shook her head and grabbed her pants. “You disappoint me, Cade."

  He laughed harshly. “I disappoint you? Sweetheart, disappointment is one of the milder emotions I felt when you ran ten years ago."

  "I told you why I ran."

  "Because I read your mind?"

  "Because you forced yourself into my mind.” She looked up at him, and something deep inside him stilled when he saw the sheen of tears in her green eyes. “No telepath should do that to another. Not ever."

  Part of him wanted to step forward, wanted to wrap his arms around her and soothe away all the hurt, all the tears. The other part, the angry hurt part, rejoiced.

  She was right. He was a bastard. “In whose world?"

  "In my world. In the world of telepathic wolves."

  "Well, there is no such rule in my world."

  "Which is why you and I would probably have never worked out."

  He snorted. “We work out just fine in the only place that matters."

  She stared at him, and the pain in her expression gradually faded until there was nothing left except an odd sort of emptiness. For some reason that made him think he'd made a huge mistake, but what exactly that mistake was, he didn't know. Yet something inside wanted to retract the words and ask for her forgiveness.

  "There was a fire over on the east side this afternoon,” she said, voice matter of fact. “The fire department thinks it could be suspicious. Ronan and I are heading over there."

  "Why you two? I thought Bodee was on evening call?” Damn it, why was he arguing? What did it matter?

  Or was it simply the fact she was heading off with her usual lover, when by the right of the moon and the night, she should be with him?

  Was he jealous?

  Of course he was. She was his mate, no matter how temporary or unwillingly. And no wolf shared what was his.

  "Bodee is on call. After eight.” She glanced at her watch. “It's barely seven."

  "What about Denny and Club Grange?"

  She bent, picking up her boots and putting them on. “I'll meet you there. And I suggest you put on a disguise yourself, because by now, half the town will know you're here, even if they don't know why."

  With that, she brushed past him and walked out the door. He was tempted to drag her back into his arms and kiss her until the ice was erased from her expression and her body. But that wasn't practical or sensible. The moon fever would ensure she'd be back in his arms before long, and right now, there was work to be done.

  He dressed and headed back to his room, or rather, his team's room. Anton was again sitting on the floor with the laptop perched in front of him, but he glanced up as Cade entered.

  "Have you got your phone turned off, boss?"

  "No, but I've had signal problems. What's up?"

  Anton's expression suggested he wasn't buying the lie, but he kept his thoughts to himself. For which, Cade was extremely thankful. He didn't need any other problems right now.

  "Hart faxed over the autopsy report on the second victim.” Anton picked up a folder and tossed it across the coffee table toward Cade. “MO is much the same."

  "Note included?” Cade picked up the folder and looked through it. There'd been a note there, all right.

  "As was stolen from me, so shall I steal from you,” Anton quoted, and met Cade's gaze squarely. “Savannah Grant is Vannah Harvey, isn't she?"

  "Yes.” There was no point in denying it. Anton and Trista would have to know anyway, given the threats that were being left. “What made you suspect?"

  "The notes themselves. I mean, why leave one at the head ranger's when she was never at Rosehall? Unless, of course, she was there under an assumed name.” He paused, brown eyes filled with annoyance. “When were you going to tell us?"

  "That's what I came back here to do.” He handed over the evidence bag that had the tape in it. “Once you listen to that, her alter-ego would have been evident, anyway."

  "Which is why you insisted on keeping this bag rather than me bringing it back here with the rest of the evidence.” Anton paused. “That's not good legal form, you know."

  "This killer is never going to be brought to justice, and you and I know it."

  Anton raised his eyebrows. “If you're telling me—"

  "All I'm telling you,” Cade cut in, before assumptions could be made, “is that this killer has no intention of being caught like Jontee was."

  "And why would you think that?"

  "Because we didn't catch him the first time.” Cade walked across to the minibar and pulled out a beer.

  "You're obviously not talking about Jontee."

  "No.” Cade popped the top of the beer and took a long drink. “Jontee was behind the killings. We proved that, but I have always thought it was impossible for him to be working alone."

  "There's nothing like that in the files."

  "Because the man in charge of the investigations believed there was only one killer—the one we caught.” He shrugged. “The opinions of a raw recruit didn't matter."

  "Sometimes the ramblings of the inexperienced hold grains of truth a more experienced eye has missed."

  "Now you're sounding like your philosopher father."

  Anton smiled. “Are your notes on file somewhere?"

  He nodded. “In the notes attached to the main case files, but I have the originals with me."

  "Good.” Anton paused, and then he asked, “Have you questioned Ranger Grant about Rosehall?"

  "There's no need. I read her mind at the time—that's how I caught Jontee, remember?"

  "That doesn't mean you got every scrap of information she knew."

  "Believe me, I read her mind very thoroughly."

  Anton frowned. “But isn't she from the golden pack?"

  "Yeah? So?"

  "Well, the golden pack is among the strongest telepaths ever recorded. Even the weakest of them can generally wipe the wall with telepaths from other packs."
<
br />   It was Cade's turn to frown. “I caught her at a very open moment, though."

  "It shouldn't have mattered. The minute she felt you invading her mind, she would have slammed down as many shields as she could.” Anton's frown deepened. “You might have caught information about Jontee, but I very much doubt you'd have caught everything she knew."

  I never said I hadn't seen anything, she'd admitted to him yesterday. But you never asked that question, did you? Just charged right in and took.

  And he'd been too busy fighting desire and trying to defend his past actions to even pursue the admission.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe this investigation did need another leader. One with a clearer head and was not so intimately involved. “Any word from headquarters regarding my possible replacement?"

  Anton shook his head. “Not yet."

  "And Trista?"

  "She's with the kid, crosschecking the names she and Ronan collected today."

  Cade nodded. “What time is Hart due in?"

  "He's returning to Denver to grab one of the mobile forensics vans, so I wouldn't expect him until morning."

  Cade nodded and glanced at the bagged and tagged items strewn across the table. “Discover anything yet?"

  "Nothing helpful. The partial tire tracks match those sold as standard on at least three different makes of four-wheel drives. The shoe tracks we found in the forest don't appear to match the partial print found near the tape recorder. I've scanned both through to the labs to see if they can come with a shoe make or anything else useful."

  "Let's hope they find something.” Cade rubbed a hand across his still-aching jaw. “I'm going out with Ranger Grant later tonight to find and question the woman who paid the kid to leave the note under her wiper."

  Anton raised his eyebrows. “A woman? Did the kid give you a description?"

  "Average height, late teens to early twenties, blonde, blue eyes and buxom."

  Anton snorted. “Every teenage male's wet dream."

  "Exactly, which makes me suspect she was also paid to bribe the kid."