Hunters Moon

by Hunter's Moon (lit)

  HUNTER'S MOON

  By

  Bernadette Gardner

  © copyright April 2005, Bernadette Gardner

  Cover art by Eliza Black, © copyright April 2005

  ISBN 1-58608-386-4

  New Concepts Publishing

  Lake Park, GA 31636

  www.newconceptspublishing.com

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and places are of the author's imagination and not to be confused with fact. Any resemblance to living persons or events is merely coincidence.

  Chapter One

  The midnight breeze had a cool edge to it that heralded the arrival of autumn. Alliana Cambridge stretched like a cat, luxuriating in the chill that spread over her sweat-soaked skin. She had pushed her body to its limits tonight and now it was time to rest and enjoy the sweet September air.

  Most people told her she was crazy for running so late at night, but she didn't care. She craved the solitude of the woods during a full moon. The old dirt access road that skirted her property was as familiar to her as the back of her hand. Perhaps she was crazy. She had no fear of the denizens of the Pennsylvania forests. It was the inhabitants of the towns and cities she preferred to avoid.

  She stretched again, bending backward and forward at the waist to release the tension in her lower back. Silently, she counted backward from ten to slow her breathing down from a heated pant.

  Enough for tonight, she decided. She was already halfway back to the farmhouse. The long walk from here would do her good, allow her to work any remaining kinks out of her muscles. There was no point in exhausting herself.

  Alliana's slim shadow preceded her over the ruts that scored the drought-cracked road. It hadn't rained in a month and the tall grass on either side of the road was tinderbox dry. That gave her pause. There was more to fear from a sudden fire than from anything that lived in the woods. On the up side, the wind that stirred the grass created a silvery whisper that was as soft as a lover's caress. The sound soothed her and, for a short time, chased away the insistent worry she lived with.

  After a few minutes, Alli found her rhythm and the walk became a lanky sprint. It was hard to slow down sometimes. All that pent up energy had to go somewhere before she could fall asleep. And with no man around...

  Well, she was a damn sight better off alone in that department. End of discussion.

  Pick another topic to think about, Alli.

  The light of September's full moon was so bright it hurt her eyes when she turned to look. The laughing face of the man up there winked at her and she winked back before picking up speed once more.

  God, she loved moonlight. It made everything look surreal and metallic, as if it were sculpted of platinum.

  When the crack of a gunshot broke the silence, Alli tripped. She cursed as she regained her equilibrium and her heart began to thud.

  "Idiots!" She didn't care that her voice would echo over the rise. The hunters that crawled all over the mountainside were so stupid sometimes. Hunting at night was asinine, but nothing stopped them. There were more accidents every year, and most of them were well deserved. The thought made her feel guilty, but it was how she felt.

  Ah, well. She'd mention it to the police chief the next time she ran into him. Ben Walters was a nice enough guy. He'd listen to her complaint, admonish her again for wandering around her own property alone in the dark, and walk away feeling like he'd done his civic duty.

  Men.

  Troublesome as they were, she could certainly use one for a few hours right about now.

  Stop it. Move on. Get over it. Smell that air! What a gorgeous night!

  Walking wasn't going to cut it and neither was a light jog. She picked up the pace in an effort to pound the fever out of her blood. She'd managed four years without a man. She didn't need one now. There were plenty of other ways to release pent up tension.

  Damn! Listening to gunshots in the distance wasn't one of them. Nor was hearing the sound that followed the second shot. The scream of pain echoed across the tree-covered slope that rose behind her. It stopped Alliana like a brick wall.

  Some fool went and got shot again. Christ! When will these guys learn that a six-pack and a loaded rifle don't mix?

  She catapulted herself through the garden gate and into the mudroom of the farmhouse. She grabbed the flashlight and first aid kit she kept there. Not that a band-aid would do much good if someone was shot, but it was the best she had.

  She pivoted back out the door and ran once more along the access road and up the slope toward the dense trees. Instinctively she headed toward the ridge where her property ended. Above it there were several blinds in the woods. That's where the hunters normally hung out, drinking and cussing until some poor creature wandered close enough for them to wound it. She cursed as she ran. This was the last thing she needed tonight.

  Alli squeezed the long, hard shaft of the flashlight a little tighter when she heard the sound. The low moan ended in a growl that sounded faintly inhuman. She had never been shot, but she imagined the pain could make a person sound more like an animal.

  Nevertheless, she raised the flashlight like a club as she crossed the board bridge that spanned the creek. The grasses were thick here and the wind had picked up, making them rustle. The sound was no longer soothing.

  Alli stopped and listened to the night to get her bearings. Something moved to her left. The half groan-half growl came again and rooted her to the spot. Her heart slammed into her ribs and the sweat that trickled between her breasts went ice cold in an instant. Someone was coming through the reeds next to the creek.

  Run.

  The voice in her head that governed the self-preservation instinct had been silent for a long time. Mute when she needed it most, her subconscious had been nothing more than an impassive bystander while her ex-husband took out his every frustration on her. Four years passed and it hadn't made a sound. When it had finally woken up, it rallied her into such a frenzy that she'd nearly killed him. She'd hit him so hard and so many times that he didn't get up. But as much as he deserved it, she still regretted letting the voice in her head have so much power.

  It was that reason that made her ignore it now.

  Run.

  Of course that might be the wise thing to do. Go back home, call Ben--he was always on duty at midnight--and tell him what was going on in her woods. But someone was hurt. Drunk stupid bastard or no--she couldn't let someone bleed to death while she ran like a wimp and cowered in the bedroom closet.

  "Who's there?" She squinted into the dense growth ahead of her. "Are you hurt?"

  Alli raised the flashlight higher just as a figure stumbled out of the reeds. She fought the urge to scream.

  He was over six feet tall, black as midnight and nearly naked. Blood poured across his well muscled chest and he let out another of those low, inhuman moans as he advanced on Alli, one clawed hand outstretched. His lips were drawn back against sharp white teeth and his feral eyes blazed a luminous green. He hissed at her once then fell at her feet.

  Chapter Two

  "Oh my God." Alli's voice echoed in the sudden stillness. It was never a good sign when the woods were completely quiet. His ragged cry of pain had silenced all the creatures on the slope.

  Despite an overwhelming desire to escape, Alli took only the smallest step back when the man lolled to one side. He looked up at her and whispered something unintelligible. She assumed it was a plea for help.

  The gunshot wound was a ragged tear between his right shoulder and the bulge of his pectoral muscle. The blood that oozed over his broad chest was red, but the skin beneath it was panther black, covered with fine hair that glinted with blue highlights in the moonlight.

  While Alli gaped at him, he reached up and clo
sed the long fingers of his left hand over her wrist. The claws that protruded from his fingertips brushed the sensitive skin of her wrist and the contact raised goose bumps all over her body.

  Paralyzed with indecision rather than fear, Alli remained stock still as he used her body to pull himself to his feet. Despite his massive physique, though, he moved with an innate grace. A human male his size would have pulled her over on top of him with a move like that. When he had steadied himself, she tilted her head up to look at his face.

  She'd never seen anything like him before--except maybe on television. He reminded her of Vincent from Beauty and the Beast. His features were definitely feline, but regal and sensuous rather than grotesque. He was magnificent.

  His knees buckled and instinctively Alli reached around his waist to hold him up. The flashlight and the first aid kit hit the dirt with a thud and he hissed at the noise. It sounded like words, but she couldn't make them out.

  "Come with me," she said. "I'll help you."

  Which voice was that? she wondered when he put his weight on her shoulders. They began a faltering four-legged limp back to the house.

  She had no idea who or what he was, but for some reason, she had the undeniable urge to take care of him. It amazed her how self-assured she sounded, as if she fixed up wounded aliens all the time.

  Alien. That's exactly what he was. Crazy. That's exactly what she was.

  Inner voice. Outer voice. Both deserted her in a rush. Her brain went on autopilot and her body followed mutely along, one foot in front of the other. With deliberate movements and a few low, painful moans, they made it back to the farmhouse and up the stairs where Alli did the only thing she could think of. She put him in her bed.

  By the sixty-watt light of the lamp on her nightstand, he was even more fascinating and frightening than he'd been in the moonlight. Stretched to his full length on the handmade quilt, he looked like the shadow of some fantasy creature. Half feline, half man--well, all man she decided with an eye on the impressive bulge between his legs. Whatever equipment he possessed was covered by some type of loincloth attached to a wide leather belt. Bright jewels studded the belt as well as the matching cuffs on his wrists, but aside from those adornments, he was naked, covered only in fine, blue-black fur that had the exquisite feel of crushed velvet.

  She forced her gaze upward to his face. Incredible. His features were chiseled and the heavy ridge of his brow hooded those magnificent feline eyes, which were currently clenched tightly in pain. Unlike the television character Alli remembered, he had no wild lion's mane of hair. His head was sleek, but his pointed ears ended in short tufts of ebony fur.

  He made a noise deep in his chest as his massive torso settled against the mound of pillows that cushioned the old brass bed frame. With his feet hanging off the bed, he didn't look comfortable, but then again, with a bullet in his chest, she doubted the size of the bed would make much difference to him.

  Alli realized she'd been stroking the skin of his abdomen and pulled her hand away when he stirred again, still trying to find a comfortable position. She ignored the tide of fear that ebbed and flowed in her and she bent closer to examine him.

  His wound was vicious. The dark skin beneath the fur was torn and oozing. In the dim light she thought she could make out a metallic glint in the mangled flesh and realized that if she cleaned away the blood, she might be able to remove the bullet.

  The thought made her dizzy. Then what?

  She glanced at the phone beside the bed. Three little numbers. Nine-one-one. Would they even believe her if she called?

  He growled and struggled to sit up. She could tell by the wild look in his eyes that he was delirious from the pain. She wondered if he would hurt her accidentally if she tried to restrain him. Then she wondered if he would hurt her on purpose.

  "Stay here," she said, swallowing another wave of fear as she pushed him gently back against the pillows. To minimize the distraction and ward off chills from shock, she pulled an afghan over his lower body. At the very least the weight of the heavy knit blanket might be enough to keep him still in his weakened state while she scrounged for supplies.

  "Don't move. I'm going to get something to clean you up."

  One brilliant green eye opened and he hissed something. She jumped back again when a deep roar of pain split the air. His body seemed to convulse and Alli pressed her back against the bedroom wall while he writhed on the bed. She had no idea what to do.

  Finally, his muscles relaxed and he lay back against the pillows, drained from some internal struggle. When she looked again, the wound was pumping fresh blood, but the bullet was now clearly visible embedded in his flesh.

  Alli leaned closer. What the hell was happening? She drew in a breath in amazement. He seemed to be expelling the bullet from his body. The wounded muscle and skin was actually pushing the foreign object out, millimeter by millimeter, as she watched. If the pain of it didn't kill him, he might actually survive.

  As if a dead alien wasn't trouble enough, what was she going to do with a live one? Alli's self-preservation voice kicked in again. He may be incapacitated now, but look at those claws. He could rip you to ribbons and you're standing there staring at his ... loincloth.

  She had to get a grip. First things first. She needed to clean him up before he bled all over her grandmother's double wedding ring heirloom quilt.

  "I'll be right back," she said shakily. He looked at her with both eyes now but made no comment. "I won't hurt you." She held out her hands, palms forward, hoping that signified a peaceful, friendly gesture. "So, please don't hurt me, okay?"

  His eyes closed and she thought she saw the rigid set of his muscles ease a bit. She waited while his breathing slowed and the tension left the hard planes of his face. She figured that, in falling asleep, he had in some way acquiesced to her request. He wouldn't hurt her, for now.

  When she returned to the bedroom a short time later with a basin of water and a handful of washcloths, his eyes were open again. They narrowed to slits when she approached the bed, but he made no defensive moves.

  He watched her intently while she soaked one of the cloths and gently began wiping away the blood that had seeped halfway down the rippling muscles of his abdomen.

  She avoided the flesh around the wound, but saw that the bullet was now almost even with his skin. She probably could have removed it fairly easily with a tweezers or a pocketknife, but she had no intention of interfering with his natural healing process. She had even passed over the iodine and peroxide she kept under the bathroom sink, unsure what reaction simple first aid products might cause. So far, the wound didn't look infected. The flesh within the hole was bright pink and the blood seemed to be clotting normally.

  He spoke to her while she worked and the look on his face was both curious and intelligent. She would have loved to know what he was saying but she could only shrug as she wrung out the cloth. "Sorry. I don't understand."

  He kept talking though, and she studied his face while he rambled on. When his eyes closed, she figured he was probably still delirious from the pain, or perhaps he was dictating his last will and testament to her. For all she knew, he was bequeathing her the keys to his spaceship.

  She finished her task and watched him for a long time. Maybe an hour passed and his body convulsed again. This time the bullet began to tip out of the surrounding flesh. Alli resisted the urge to pluck it away before it came completely free. She had no idea what he might do if she caused him unnecessary pain. With trembling hands, she pressed a cool cloth to his forehead while she waited for the wave to subside.

  After a moment he opened his eyes and for the barest moment, she saw fear. Of course he probably thought he would die and she could do nothing for him but wipe away the blood as it spilled over his fevered skin.

  "I'm sorry," she said as she placed her hand in the center of his chest to reassure him. She was amazed to feel the strong, even rhythm of his heart beneath her palm. At least in that respect he was like
a human. "Once the bullet is out, I think you'll be okay."

  After a moment, he raised his own hand and placed it in the center of her chest in a similar gesture. Her heart jackhammered when the heat of his touch filtered through her damp T-shirt. She wondered if he was surprised as well to discover her heart in the same place as his.

  He remained that way for a long, tense moment, his eyes on hers. When he finally dropped his hand, the spot between her breasts tingled from the pressure of his touch. She had to wonder how such a being could stir her feelings as he did. His touch inflamed her even as it frightened her.

  Alli shook herself back to reality and realized that his gaze lingered on the spot where he had touched her. There was a feral light in his eyes that made her acutely aware of the thin material of her shirt. It occurred to her that she wanted him to touch her again just so she could be sure of how it felt. Had she really gone hot so quickly? The uncertainty made her heart beat faster. What was he thinking?

  He relaxed back onto the pillows then, the spell seemingly broken. His eyes closed and Alli sighed. Would he seem so gentle and intelligent when he was recovered enough to do what he wanted?

  Chapter Three

  Alli woke on the floor, stiff necked and bleary-eyed. Her feet were tangled in the shawl she'd thrown over herself some time after 3:00 a.m.

  She pushed her upper body off the floor with her right arm and eyed the rocky landscape of muscle that stretched across her bed. He lay flat on his back now, having pushed the pillows aside during the painful bouts that eventually dislodged the bullet completely from his chest. The slug lay on the nightstand in a plastic cup. The twisted lump of bloody metal was worthless, but she wondered if he might want to keep it as a souvenir.

  Alli leaned her sore back against the bedroom wall and pondered what she'd gotten herself into. She'd spent the last five years avoiding entanglements of any kind, keeping to herself as much as possible so no one could hurt her.