Moonlight Mist: A Limited Edition Collection of Fantasy & Paranormal)

by Nicole Morgan

  Warrant swung her up into his arms. Her yelp was lost in the ominous creak of the stairs as he took them two at a time. The second time he carried her, and it was a lot more comfortable than being thrown over his shoulder, even though his chest was a wall of muscle, and his arms bands of steel. She kept her hands to herself and tried to ignore the feel of him.

  I should protest. Demand he put me down. No words left her mouth. What the hell is wrong with me? He’s just a man!

  His lips brushed her forehead. Did he just smell my hair? Something like a purr rumbled through his chest and his hands tightened a fraction on her body, then eased. They crested the landing and moved down a winding hallway. The house was bigger than it appeared from the outside.

  Warrant shouldered open a door that squealed at the invasion. Candles illuminated the well-appointed space, as if the room waited for her arrival. A vintage waterfall armoire and dressing table decorated the room. Along with the matching bed and a steamer trunk, the ensemble filled the bedroom. He deposited her on the edge of a brass bed. A lemony-pine scent greeted her as she stared at the surprisingly clean room.

  The shutters on the windows rattled. She tensed.

  “It’s only the wind.”

  “Storm shelter?” she reiterated her earlier question with more urgency.

  Slowly, as if afraid she would bolt, he grasped her shoulders. His hands heavy yet gentle, he gazed into her eyes. “As I said, nothing can harm this house.”

  The shutters rattled again. She and the storm weren’t buying what he was selling. “We should be lower. That’s what the weather experts say. Get below ground.” She’d never been in a tornado but read up on them before moving to the area. The house rattled this time. Candles tipped over and rolled across the floor. Nonchalantly, he picked them up and returned them to the worn dresser. The whole place could go up in flames, yet he seemed unconcerned. Her choices kept expanding: Tornado vs. serial killer vs. inferno. It should be a movie on the SyFy channel.

  He returned and hooked a finger under her chin. “Fear is useless. It saps the will and paralyzes. I promise you, no tornado or fire will harm this house.”

  Uneasy with his proximity, she pulled away. “Why are you so certain?”

  He shrugged his heavy shoulders. “There is no certainty, only adventure.”

  Are you kidding me? “Why is a philosopher living in farm country?”

  A grin spread across his face, transforming his features into a stunning example of male beauty. “I am not a philosopher.”

  “Then what are you?” she rasped, annoyed at the breathless notes in her voice.

  “Only a man who found a beautiful woman.” He stepped closer, crowding her with his body.

  She stood her ground and refused to be intimidated. An appreciative glint sparked in his eyes. At least, that’s what she imagined before he pivoted away.

  Warrant retrieved a gray tee shirt from the dresser and placed it on the bed. “There are towels in the armoire and the bathroom is over there.” He pointed to a closed door. “I will leave now.”

  He was almost gone when she couldn’t stop herself from asking, “Is this your bedroom?”

  One hand on the door knob, the other on the frame, he paused. His muscles bunched under the clinging tee, defining every ridge and valley of his sculpted body. “No. I sleep elsewhere.”

  Then he was gone, leaving her to wonder where that special place could be.

  Chapter Three

  A black and white subway tiled bathroom greeted her when she pushed open the door. She’d brought two candles with her and balanced them on the rim of the claw foot tub and porcelain sink. Must be the guest quarters because both rooms were spotless.

  “Where does he sleep?” She wondered aloud as she stripped the filthy gown off and ran the tepid water over a washcloth. Quickly, she scrubbed her limbs free of the dirt still clinging to her skin, washed her face, and combed her fingers through her hair. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror showed no bruises and her reddish-blond hair free of debris. It would have to be good enough. She dragged on the shirt. The collar hung off one shoulder no matter how she tried to right it and dipped dangerously between her breasts. At least it was soft and long enough. The hem fell nearly to her knees. With the three key areas covered—breasts, butt, and privates—it would do.

  Alone in the bedroom, Aurora rifled through the dresser drawers, under the bed, and every nook and cranny, searching for a weapon. Her efforts were futile. The drawers were empty and not even dust gathered under the bed. With her purse tucked under her arm and a candle in her hand, she tiptoed into the shadowy hallway.

  Her thoughts purposely neutral, Aurora moved down the hallway. She kept to the frayed runner in the center, pleased that it muffled her footsteps. She tested each door, surprised to find them unlocked. A quick check didn’t reveal a hidden phone, nor anything more macabre than a thick layer of dust coating everything and more than a few thriving colonies of spiders. Why would a single man live in a huge house with only himself as company if he wasn’t deranged?

  Something banged downstairs, sounded like pots. She continued searching for anything that would get her out of the house and away from her enigmatic host. A floorboard squeaked underfoot, and she froze. No sound of feet thumping up the stairs to catch her followed. No sound of anything. The house seemed to exist in a vacuum of time, waiting for the next event to unfold.

  Her lungs fluttered in desperation. She’d forgotten to breathe. Aurora inhaled and shifted her foot off the squeaky board. Instead of continuing her search, she moved to the staircase. She stopped at the railing and peered down into the empty living room. Why hadn’t she noticed this spot before? Anyone could have hidden up here and spied on her and Warrant below. Had someone? Were they really alone in the house?

  She stopped and listened again.

  Running water came from the kitchen and the sound of a cupboard banging closed. She spun, back to the rail, and looked down the long hallway. She’d checked all the rooms, no one hid there. But there were many rooms downstairs and the basement. She had to check down there. Had to.

  “Are you coming down or do you intend to remain there all night?” Warrant peered up at her from the living room. Apparently, he had no trouble seeing in the dark. What else did he have no trouble doing?

  He met her at the bottom landing. One glance and his gaze swept from the crown of her head to her bandaged feet. Though the tee shirt hung loosely on her body, she felt naked. Armor wouldn’t be enough to protect her from his heated perusal.

  He leaned forward and again she’d swear he sniffed her. “Are you hungry?”

  No was a second away from leaving her tongue, but then her stomach grumbled. Lunch was the last time she’d eaten and that was eight hours ago. Accepting his offer could prove deadly, since she hadn’t seen him prepare it. “Coffee? I’d love a cup of coffee.” The caffeine would help to keep her awake.

  He smiled and something in the vicinity of her heart fluttered. “Yes, I have coffee.”

  She followed him and noticed he’d changed into a dry shirt and different pants. Another pair of jeans that hugged his ass as equally as the others. He stepped aside so she could enter the kitchen, but she stopped in the doorway.

  A match struck, hissed, and beat back the dark. Warrant held the flame and brought it to three candles. He’d passed her and again, she hadn’t noticed.

  She glanced at the weathered cabinets, bib sink, and the old-fashioned 1940’s gas stove while Warrant filled a percolator with water from a pump handle in the sink and placed it on the stove. He turned the knob and blue flames whipped around the burner.

  “There’s no milk. No sugar. I take it black.”

  The way she liked it, strong and a bit bitter on the tongue. The brew hit the bloodstream undiluted. It was a newly acquired taste. One she couldn’t get enough of. She nodded and sat in the only chair, a leather barstool at the corner of the counter. He opened the door next to a beat-up refrigerator and ret
rieved a box of saltines from a pantry. The only thing in the pantry, except for a length of chain hung on a hook next to the shelving.

  “Why do you insist this house is impenetrable? If that tornado hits this house, we are dead. Your confidence in your home is…admirable,” she said instead of foolish. “But nothing can withstand three hundred plus mile per hour winds.

  A counter separated them. It didn’t seem enough of a barrier, especially not from the intensity of his eyes. What color were they? She suspected they weren’t as soulless as they appeared. Suspected by the kindness Warrant had shown her that he wasn’t anything he appeared to be. I’m not going to be fooled into trusting the sheep when he’s really a wolf.

  “We… I have no place else to go. Confidence in this house is all we… I have. To go out there is to die.” He pointed to a wall, which rumbled in response.

  “Am I safe in here, Warrant? Is that what you’re telling me?” She wanted to be safe from him and the tornado.

  Leaning against the counter, he inched closer to her. Candlelight reflected in his eyes, making him seem demonic. She should run. Fast and far. But she needed a sanctuary and good or bad, this place was it.

  His gaze assessed her beneath his lowered brow. “You have nothing to fear from me, Aurora.”

  Fear wasn’t the only emotion knotting her insides. “H-how do you know I’m afraid?”

  “I can tell by the…” He paused and inhaled slowly. A hooded expression came over his face. The harsh planes of his face relaxed and, lord, his allure quadrupled. “Your pulse.”

  His hand shot out and with the gentlest touch, he clasped her neck. His warm palm sent heat all the way through her. Half of her loosened, while the muscles in her lower abdomen clenched in the most pleasurable way. She should pull back, break the contact. Before she could severe the connection, his hand slid to the back of her neck and into her hair. Lightly, his fingers raked her scalp, and left her tingling.

  “What are you doing?” She shouldn’t sound so breathy and she shouldn’t be easing to the edge of the chair for more.

  “Don’t know.” His lips brushed her cheek, moved up to her left temple, and pressed a kiss to the throbbing pulse, and then he jerked away, all the way back to the stove. Cool air swirled around her, dousing her ardor, leaving goose bumps on her flesh. And her angry. He shouldn’t be able to do this to her, make her want him, a stranger, most likely a danger to her life. Yet she’d never felt more alive or confused.

  Bad boys had never held any appeal. Aurora lived her life by a set of codes, morals ingrained since her first breaths. She wouldn’t stray simply because a man made her blood heat. She wasn’t a novice, so her body had better stop acting like it had never been near the opposite sex and get with the program! Namely survival.

  “My apologies. I shouldn’t have touched you without your permission.” Body rigid, head bowed, he didn’t make eye contact, which added more fuel to her anger.

  “Are you trying to seduce me? Is that what this is? You play this cat and mouse game, get into my panties, then you magically find your phone. Your car magically works so you can get rid of me after the deed?”

  An emotion streaked across his features. Pain? Maybe. Possibly regret. It was gone too fast for her to be certain.

  “There is no car. There is no phone.” A knowing smile formed and his voice lowered. “Do you want to be seduced, Aurora?”

  Her name rolled off his tongue with a sensual purr that sent a shiver down her spine and transformed her anger into something more dangerous. This man was temptation wrapped in a testosterone package designed to sap the will of the female population. Designed to sap her will. “I asked you first. Answer the question.”

  “I have no intention of hurting you in any way.”

  “That is not what I asked you.” She needed him to answer the question.

  “Yes. Seducing you is a tantalizing enticement I am unwilling to resist.”

  She blinked. Then blinked again. It took a second for her brain to restart. “Why? Why me?”

  The answer struck her and call her stupid for uttering the ridiculous question. “I’m the only female available.”

  He pushed off from the stove and stalked closer. Thankful of the counter between them, Aurora didn’t back away. Elbows on the countertop, he leaned in, their faces inches apart. The hard lines of his mouth and lowered brow had softened, turning him even more handsome in the flickering candlelight. “I’ve been here a long time, alone. And you are a very beautiful woman. Regardless of you being the only female here, whether you’re available or not. Though a woman as lovely as you should not be available. You should be protected, and loved as often as stamina allows.”

  As he spoke, she stared at his mouth, caught each word as they fell from his lips and couldn’t help wonder how they’d feel on her skin, the words and his mouth. Her reaction, not the raw lust in his voice or the enticing words, startled Aurora.

  “I want to go home. I never should’ve left home. Except, I wanted to impress my boss.” The words poured out of her. She concentrated on her cuticles, not the erotic thoughts steaming her up or the man scrutinizing her every blink.

  “Are you sleeping with him?” he snarled low.

  The thread of violence in his tone snapped her gaze to his. His eyes were deep, pitted, and mesmerizing with their latent intensity. “No. Heavens, no. Impress was the wrong word.” She waved at him and gave a nervous chuckle. “I’m trying for a promotion. The gala was a chance to been seen, rub elbows with the right people.”

  The tension in his features lessened a fraction, replaced by a hungry stare that made her insides jell. “I want to kiss you. May I?”

  No should’ve leaped off her tongue. But it had other plans, like licking his surprisingly sensual lips, then slipping inside his mouth and dueling with his tongue. Don’t think of that. Say no. Kissing this man is a bad idea. But the image was already welded to her brain. All she needed now was the comparison between fantasy and reality.

  The aroma of coffee filled the air along with the sound of bubbling water. She licked her lips and his eyes followed the movement with predatory attention. Warrant eased in and she froze as he leaned across the counter. He touched her face. His calloused fingers stroked her cheek, traced her jaw, lulled her fear, and stoked her anticipation. Ensnared in his aura, the sultry dark wave seeping from him, her mouth dried as she waited to taste him.

  “May I?” His voice had deepened to a rich plea, which tugged on the muscles in her groin.

  He looked her in the eye, slipped past her corneas, and dipped into her soul. “Do you always ask for what you want?” She managed to whisper with false bravado.

  “No. But in this, I will not take what isn’t given.” His gaze dipped to her mouth. “Give me permission,” he demanded.

  Yes or no was an easy enough answer. Yet, logic collided with desire. She shouldn’t, had every reason not to, this was not why she was here, but— “Yes.” Need roughened her tone. Again, she said, “Yes.”

  His mouth slanted over hers. Firm, cool lips claimed hers with a tenderness she’d never associate with a man like Warrant. Desire cascaded through her system. Shocked her as nothing ever had. She didn’t kiss strangers. Didn’t seek attention from men she didn’t know and had just met.

  Her mouth remained partly open, ready for more. His tongue delved deeper, glided against her tongue in an erotic duel. She returned his kiss with an unexpected surge of pent-up hunger. He cupped her face, tilted her chin, and took the kiss to a higher level. Warrant dominated her mouth with each glide of his tongue and gentle stroke of his fingers along her skin. He slid down her jawline, giving her an opportunity to breathe, as he trailed kisses down her neck. He broke contact to round the counter.

  Warrant wrapped an arm around her waist, lifted her from the chair, and pulled her flush against his hard body. Her mind blanked as his hand strolled down her shoulders, back, and settled on her hips. Full body press, the thin tee didn’t shield her from fee
ling the entire length of him.

  He claimed her mouth again. His kiss urgent, bordering on savage, yet so damn seductive. A whimper inched up her throat. Not for him to stop, but for him to give her more. The more purely feminine part of her psyche knew only he could, would deliver. She twisted his tee in her hands. Then she moved her palms over his chest and shoulders. She reveled in his hard pecs and broad shoulders. Wrapping her arms around his neck, a half groan, half growl rumbled from Warrant. He gripped her hips and tilted her into the bulge straining his pants.

  She broke the kiss and came up for air, panting, head spinning, hands on his shoulders ready to push him away or pull him closer. His kiss moved her more than she cared to admit.

  Truth? She’d never been kissed like that, while Warrant, with his normal breathing, didn’t seem fazed at all. Maybe he guarded his emotions. She moved her hands from his shoulders down to the center of his chest. A groan broke from him. Her groin clenched with delicious anticipation. Was his heart beating as fast as hers? Her lips parted to ask him, when something caught her attention. Actually…the lack of something.

  She lay her head on his chest and listened. Time ceased as she waited for the familiar lub-dub. Where was his heartbeat? She eased away. Remaining calm was a challenge, but she did it. She had no choice. Hysteria, plus tornado, plus stranded, plus no-heartbeat-having-stranger—with whom she’d just shared a mind-melding kiss—didn’t equal survival.

  “Are you going to ask?” he said after a suffocating silence.

  She backpedaled all the way to the other room. Only when a solid wall prevented her from going any further did she stop. “Not if it’s going to cost me my life.”

  Aurora ran for the front door. Her hand slipped on the door knob, but she managed to grab it and twist. She flung the door open. On the threshold between inside and outside, the wind clawed at her hair and clothing yet wouldn’t deter her escape.