Shaving cream, razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, blow-dryer. I guess that solved the mystery of the un-wet hair, though why Adam had taken time to dry his locks while I wandered the swamp, I had no idea. Maybe he caught chills easily. He should try wearing a shirt and shoes.
Climbing into the shower, I nearly moaned as the water hit my skin. Though I would have liked to stand under the stream for an hour, I made do with fifteen minutes. Then I dried off, wrapped my hair in one towel and my body in a second, and went searching for Adam.
He stood at the front window watching as night descended completely. The thought of going out in that storm, walking alone through the dark, was too much. I would never be able to do it.
My clothes were gone, presumably whirling around the dryer with his. The image of our things all tangled together and warm made me think of other warm things that should be tangled together.
What was the matter with me? Was I suddenly obsessed with sex because it had been so long since I’d had any, or was I obsessed because I’d had it with him?
He turned, and our gazes met across the tiny room. He’d donned gray sweatpants and a bright yellow T-shirt, which made his skin appear more bronzed and his eyes more blue. I was so out of my league.
“I’ll get you somethin’ to wear while the dryer does its thing.”
I didn’t protest. There was no way I could be in the same room with Adam wearing only a towel and not be distracted by thoughts of him tearing it off of me.
Then again, would that be so bad? What were we going to do all night? Play chess?
I followed him down the hall, standing in the doorway as he rooted through a dresser. The bedroom was as sparse as the living room—nothing but a queen-size bed and a place to store clothes.
I lost the towel. The swish of the terry cloth down my legs, the slight thunk as it hit the floor, were faint, yet his head went up like a dear sensing danger in the forest. His eyes widened, and he dropped the T-shirt in his hand back into the drawer.
“The bed looks comfortable,” I said.
He crossed the floor, stopping just in front of me. Reaching up, he tugged the towel turban from my head. My damp, wildly curling hair tumbled free.
“Better than the ground,” he whispered.
Lightning flashed so brightly I still saw the flare after it faded. Thunder shook the earth; the windows rattled.
“Gonna be a long night, cher."
“I hope so.”
He led me to the bed, and we passed the long night together.
I awoke in that hour when the moon dies and the sun is born—the darkest time. The storm had raged outside, wild and primitive. Inside we’d done our best to imitate nature. I was both exhausted and exhilarated. Achy and alive.
I turned my head. Adam’s face was so close; his breath caressed my cheek. I resisted the urge to brush back his hair and kiss his brow.
Just sex, I reminded myself. I had a job to do, a vow to fulfill, a life to lead. One that did not include a reclusive former Special Forces officer with too many secrets.
I didn’t believe he’d murdered a man with his bare hands. How could he, and then touch me so gently in the night? There was violence in him certainly, but not insanity. At least not yet.
I frowned at the thought and shifted to glance out the window. My heart seemed to leap into my throat. I wanted to call for Adam, but I couldn’t speak.
A wolf stared through the glass. Huge, black, beautiful. A shaft of excitement, of joy shot through me that I’d at last found something I was searching for. And then I saw the beast’s eyes.
Wolves have brown eyes—dark, light, sometimes hazel. They do not possess orbs of blue. What really freaked me out was the white surrounding the iris. I could swear those eyes were human— and familiar.
They were Adam’s eyes.
I sat up with a gasp, trying to catch my breath, finally succeeding. I looked at the window again. The wolf was gone.
Bracing myself, I looked at Adam. He slept on undisturbed.
I put my palm to my chest; my heart threatened to burst through my skin.
A dream, that was all. There hadn’t really been a wolf with human eyes staring at me with just a hint of desire— though I had to say his expression had been more famished than carnal.
I lay down, spent a few moments breathing in and out, trying to make my heart return to a normal pace, hoping I didn’t wake Adam with my foolishness. After his performance, he had to be more tired than I was.
The memory calmed me. I shifted closer, enjoying the warmth, the scent of his skin, the rhythm of his breathing. I hadn’t realized how much I hated sleeping alone. I drifted, perched on the precipice of sleep, when a tap at the window brought me wide awake again. My eyes snapped open. I expected the wolf; I did not expect Simon.
A soft sob escaped. Just a dream again, had to be. Simon was dead. He could not be outside Adam’s window.
I cringed at Simon seeing me in bed with another man, even if it was a dream Simon.
He tapped on the glass, crooked his finger; so I slipped from beneath the covers and padded naked across the floor.
Simon appeared exactly the same as he had the day he’d died. Tall and a bit gaunt—he’d always forgotten to eat unless I reminded him—his blond hair and blue eyes appeared almost Nordic. I hadn’t known he was British until he opened his mouth. That accent had been my undoing.
When I’d met him he was well respected in his field. By the time he died he was a laughingstock, referred to as “The Wolfman” by people who’d once admired him.
A few days before his death he finally told me why he was willing to risk everything to find something no one else believed in. He’d seen a werewolf as a child in England—out on the moors, in the fog—and ever since, he’d been unable to forget.
I’d rationalized away the sighting as too much American Werewolf in London for a twelve-year-old mind. He’d been understandably angry that the one person in the world who should believe him, didn’t, and when he’d received a call that a werewolf had been seen in northern Wisconsin, he’d gone alone.
I hadn’t believed him, and he’d died for it
Simon laid his palm against the glass. Droplets of rain ran down, skirting his fingers. I lifted my hand and pressed it to the windowpane, too. God, I missed him.
“D-baby,” he murmured.
Only the two of us knew that nickname.
“I’m here, Simon.”
“I’m not.”
“I know.”
He glanced over his shoulder as if someone had called him, then returned his gaze to mine. “I have to go.”
“Not yet.”
He stepped back. Weird. He wasn’t wet, and the rain was still coming down.
Or maybe not so weird after all.
“You promised,” he said.
I’d sworn till death do us part, but in my heart that meant forever. A love like ours just didn’t go away. I felt it now, swelling inside of me, making my eyes tear and my chest tighten. “Don’t leave me.”
“I never have. I’ll be with you until the end of time. You took a vow, D-baby. Remember?”
He’d come to remind me of the vow and not our love? Dream Simon or not, I wanted to slug him.
“I haven’t forgotten. I’ve been chasing legends every which way ever since you died. I haven’t found one damn thing.”
“You have to believe in order to see, not the other way around.”
He’d told me that countless times, but faith, for me, was tough. I was a scientist; I needed proof.
“Be safe,” he whispered; then he was gone.
I jolted as if I’d been startled awake. However, I wasn’t in bed; I was standing at the window. I couldn’t have been sleeping. Unless I’d been sleepwalking.
As I leaned close, my nose brushed the glass. Nothing was out there but the night. I inched back, and my gaze caught on the imprint of a hand.
My heart gave one hard thud before I came to my senses. I’d touched t
he window in my sleep that was all. To prove it, I fit my palm to the outline.
The fingertips on the glass extended half an inch past my own.
Chapter 16
“Who’s Simon?”
I spun toward the bed. “Where did you hear that?”
Adam rested his head on one palm, his face shuttered. “From you.”
“I never told you about him.”
“Not told, no. You said his name in your sleep. And since you’re sleeping with me, I want to know who he is.”
Had I dreamed Simon or not? I wasn’t certain. If I had, was that good or bad? If I hadn’t, what the hell?
I glanced at the window, but the handprint was gone. Had it ever been there in the first place?
“Who is he?” Adam sounded as if he was speaking through clenched teeth. When my gaze returned to his, I saw that he was.
“Simon’s my husband.”
A flicker of violence passed over his face. “You didn’t think you should mention a husband? I might do a lot of things, but I try not to fuck another man’s wife if I can help it.”
“No. I’m not— I mean we’re not— He isn’t—”
Adam got out of the bed and crossed the floor so fast I barely had time to step back. When I did, I hit the wall. He grabbed me by the forearms and dragged me onto my toes. His grip hurt, but I was too bewildered to protest.
“He isn’t what?”
“Alive.” Or at least I didn’t think so.
Adam released me as if I were a hot potato; I would have fallen if I hadn’t had the wall to hold me up.
“Sorry.” He shoved a hand through his hair.
I wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for Simon’s death or for manhandling me, but I understood his anger. In fact, his fury at the idea I was married made me view him in a different light. Adam Ruelle hadn’t seemed the type to respect marriage vows, to take to heart the myth of one man, one woman, forever. If I’d been wrong about that, I’d been wrong about him. Which only confused me more.
“Forget it,” I said.
“You haven’t forgotten.”
“No.”
“You still love him. I could tell by the way you said his name.”
I wanted to ask how he knew so much about love, but I didn’t. The conversation only emphasized that we were practically strangers, and I wanted to keep it that way.
“I’ll always love Simon. Death can’t change what I feel.”
He stared at me so hard, I got the feeling he wanted to open my head and peek inside, find out what made me tick.
“How did he die?”
I didn’t want to talk about this, especially naked, so I yanked the sheet off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
Adam caught the tail end and held on. “You dream of him.”
I wasn’t so sure it had been a dream, but I couldn’t tell Adam I’d seen my dead husband outside his window.
“I saw a wolf,” I blurted instead. “There.” I pointed. “Big, black, with weird blue eyes.”
If Adam hadn’t been nude, I wouldn’t have noticed him tense. His gaze flickered to the window and back. I was distracted by the ripple of muscle beneath skin, the wave along his abdomen like a softly flowing river.
“There was no wolf, cher."
“What about the howls in the swamp? The tracks. The deaths?”
“What about them?”
“Why do you keep denying even the possibility that there’s a wolf or ten out here?”
“Because there isn’t.”
I gave a frustrated little shriek and resisted the urge to kick him.
“You want me to prove it? Tonight I take you. I know this swamp like I know my own name. If there’s anything here that doesn’t belong I’d have seen it.”
Unless he was hiding something, and I kind of thought that he was. Maybe I shouldn’t go tripping off merrily into the swamp with him in the dark. I might never be heard from again.
Be safe, Simon had said. What had he meant? From the loup-garou? Or from Adam?
What choice did I have? If I was going to fulfill my vow, I needed help. And the only help available was the only man who’d made me feel alive since my whole world died.
Life certainly was a vicious bitch.
Another thought occurred to me, one that made me dizzy with dismay. I collapsed on the bed. “I’m no damn good at this.”
Sex required responsibility. Protection. My celibate lifestyle had kept me free of disease. I was also free from birth control, being both a widow and an idiot.
The bed dipped as Adam sat beside me. His hip brushed mine, but he touched me nowhere else, and for that I was grateful. When he touched me I couldn’t think.
“You’re very good at this, if you’re askin’ me.”
“What?” My mind wasn’t keeping up with the conversation.
“You said you were no damn good, but you are.”
I smiled before I could stop myself. “Thanks. But I meant the technicalities. Protection. We didn’t use any.”
I saw the understanding spread across his face. I waited for the horror, the panic, the escape, but it didn’t come. “You don’t have to worry.”
“I think I do.”
“You wanna ask me have I been with a lot of women?”
I shrugged. My lame-ass equivalent of “Hell, yes!”
“Once I fucked like rabbit, my father said.”
“How ... flattering.”
“He thought so.”
Now would be the time to ask about his father. Then again, what did it matter how, when, or why Ruelle Senior had died?
“Me, I was lookin’ for love. What’s that song? In all the wrong places.”
The sadness on his face made me want to touch him, but I knew where that would lead.
“Those days are gone,” he murmured. “Love isn’t for me.”
“Why not?”
Adam contemplated my face. “You aren’t lookin’ for love. We both know that.”
He was right, so I dipped my head.
“I want you. Shouldn’t, but can’t seem to help myself. I see that red hair …” He picked up a strand and rubbed it between his fingers. “Smell your skin, stare into your pretty green eyes, and I lose my mind.”
Being wanted for my body was something new; I kind of liked it.
“Since I left the army, there’s been no one.”
“No one?” I found that hard to believe.
“No one,” he insisted. “And in the army, they tested us regular for every old thing. I came out clean, cher, and clean I still am. Right?” He quirked his brows, and my face heated.
I’d never had a conversation like this before, although if I planned to spend the rest of my life alone, with the occasional lover to take off the edge, I’d have to get used to them.
“There was never anyone but Simon,” I whispered. The words until you hung in the air unspoken.
Adam touched my hair again. “Why not?”
“He was everything, and when he died—” My throat closed.
“A part of you went with him.”
I didn’t bother to answer. Couldn’t, really.
“It’s not natural to be alone.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”
“Sure you are. You’ll fall in love again.”
“No,” I snapped.
“No?”
“I don’t ever want to feel again the way I felt when he died.”
“So you feel nothing?”
“I had my shot. Simon was it for me.”
“You don’t think you can love twice in one lifetime?”
I lifted my head, looked him straight in the eye. “No.”
He must have seen that I meant what I said, because he gave a sharp nod, as if we’d sealed a bargain. I guess we had.
“You’re like a wolf,” he murmured, “mating for life. If one dies, the other is forever alone.”
“How do you know so much about wolves?”
“Common know
ledge, no?’
I stared at him, suspicious though I wasn’t sure why. He was right. The whole mating-for-life thing was common knowledge.
“There’s more to be concerned about than STDs.” All I needed was a baby. I could barely take care of myself. Adam wasn’t doing much better.
In truth, I wasn’t crazy about kids. I didn’t long to be a mother. Maybe this made me a freak of nature, but that’s how I felt. I was an only child. I’d never played well with others. Without brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, I’d had neither a reason nor an inclination to babysit. Kids just made me twitchy.
Simon and I had decided all we needed was each other. We’d planned to travel the world, sleep in tents until we couldn’t anymore, then retire. Besides, if I wasn’t going to have Simon’s child, I certainly wasn’t going to have anyone else’s.
“I can’t,” Adam murmured.
To make sure we were talking about the same thing, I asked, “Can’t what?”
“I can’t get you, or anyone else, pregnant.”
I wasn’t sure what to say. I could ask what was wrong with him, but since he hadn’t offered to tell me, should I? What was the etiquette for something like this? I didn’t have a clue.
Adam stood and turned away, as if the conversation upset him. Maybe he’d been wounded, although I hadn’t seen any scars and I’d seen pretty much everything. Perhaps, unlike me, he’d wanted children one day. Learning he’d never have them might account for some of the sadness in his eyes.
The question was: Did I believe him?
I studied Adam’s tense shoulders. A better question might be: Why would he lie?
Since I couldn’t come up with an answer, I went to him and slid my arms around his waist. “It doesn’t matter.”
“No?”
The way he said the word, with that French twist, always made him sound just a tad sarcastic, which was probably the whole idea.
“For us, that’s a good thing.”
He turned in my arms, taking me into his. “Whatever you say.”
“We’re having a—”
Adam tilted his head. “A what?”
An affair sounded too long-term and old-fashioned, a fling too flippant for the intensity of what we’d shared.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “But whatever it is, it’s about sex, not love, or kids, or anything but the moment. Right?”
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