“You didn’t seem upset before,” I said, recognizing the stupidity of my words even as they left my mouth. What was it my mother had said? Something along the lines of, he’s the type who will never forgive you if you give Hunter one for old times’ sake.
Red gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “You mean, I didn’t seem pissed off while Hunter and Magda were breathing down our necks? Christ, Abra, what did you want me to do—show weakness in front of the enemy? Prove that we don’t have a united front?” Red looked down at his gun, and when he looked up, there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe you let him touch you. I can’t believe you let him inside of you.”
I wanted to run up to Red and put my arms around his neck. But there were cords of tension standing out on his neck, and the muscles of his arms were bunching convulsively, so I didn’t make a move toward him. “I’m so sorry, Red.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you.” I swallowed. “I’m not saying this excuses it, but he was injured, and the only way I could think of to heal him fast was to get him to change. But I guess a little bit of me must still have been clinging to the past.” I watched a muscle jump in Red’s clenched jaw. “I can tell you this—I’m not clinging to the past anymore.”
Red’s hazel eyes held mine, and there was no hint of tears or tenderness or humor in them anymore. And then, as if someone had cut something loose, he sagged. “It’s because of what I am, isn’t it?” He clasped his hands at the base of his neck and hung his head. “Crap. I’m not good enough for you.”
“Red, no!” This time, I did go to him, putting my arms around him, trying to get him to lift his chin. “I would never think that.”
“Maybe I think it. Maybe Magda’s not all wrong about the Limmikin.” Red was looking at me now, but with a taut, pinched expression I had never seen before. “My mother was the kind of woman men take for granted. She was always trying to fit in with some new guy’s idea of the right way to live. By the time I was twelve, I was just another guy giving her a hard time.”
I didn’t say anything. Red had told me other versions of this story, but I knew that he’d been leaving things out.
“I went to live with my grandfather, which was the first time I heard about being Limmikin. Mom used to say she was Mohawk, but that was like gypsies telling people they’re Romanian or Spanish or whatever. Anyway, Granddad pretty much lived on his own, in a cabin out in the woods. We spent more time as wolves than we did as people. After he died …” Red smiled, a bitter twist of his lips. “Let’s just say that I got to know the rest of my family a little too well. Tricksters, all of them. Liars without equal. Hell, they lie so well, half the time they don’t even know when they’re doing it.” He paused. “I spent nearly two years with my grandad’s clan. Moved from town to town, crossing between Canada and the States. Worked as a contractor, taking people’s money and not delivering. Doing a shit job, cutting corners, sometimes just making stuff up. I bilked people, Doc. Good people. Newlyweds. Old folks.” He hesitated, then went on. “One time I stuck around longer than usual because I’d met some outside girl, and I learned that one of my crap repairs killed a man. That’s when I left the family, started traveling on my own.”
“That’s when you became a shaman,” I said, realizing.
“I keep telling you and Jackie, I’m not Siberian, and that’s not the right word.”
I felt a stab of jealousy. “Does Jackie know all this?”
Red shook his head. “Never wanted anyone to know I was a con man and a criminal. Don’t even know why I’m telling you this, Doc.” He rubbed his hand through his short hair. “Guess you deserve to know, though.”
I pushed my forehead against his. “You’re telling me because you want to know whether I can love the real you. But whatever you did in the past … you left that life behind. You’re not like that now.” I wasn’t completely sure that I believed that, but the urge to console and heal was too strong to ignore.
“I’m still guilty of the things I’ve done.”
“You’ve tried to make up for them,” I pointed out. “You’ve tried very hard to be a good man.” And now I knew that I was telling the truth. Whatever his former crimes, Red was one of the good guys now.
And then I remembered the night he’d changed and Rocky had disappeared.
Red’s hand came up to cup the back of my head, and we stayed like that for a moment, brow touching brow. “Then why would you let that shit you married inside your body, Doc?”
“It was a mistake.”
His hand still holding the back of my head, Red drew back that crucial few inches, allowing me to see his face again. “Well, I sure as shit ain’t perfect, so I got no right to blame you for slipping up. And I don’t hold it against you—what happened. I do want to wipe the damn smell of him off you, though. And I know just one way to do that.” He reached for me, and I tensed.
“Ah. So, maybe I’m not the only expert liar in this room.” As Red half rose to leave, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.
“No! No, don’t leave, I just … Before we make love, there’s something I have to know.”
His face was closed and hard, disbelieving. “What?”
“That new hat you’re wearing … is it Rocky?”
I saw that this was not the question he’d been expecting. After a moment, Red shook his head. “A smart raccoon can outwit a seasoned hunting dog, sweetheart. They know how to split their trail up, lay false leads, lose their scent in running water. But if he stayed with us any longer, Rocky wasn’t going to live to be a smart raccoon. I had to chase the little guy off. It was his time to go.” He went over to the hat, picked it up, and showed it to me. “This here hat’s from a bit of roadkill I salvaged.”
Well, that was … woodsmanlike of him. I shivered as Red put down the hat and traced his finger down my throat, trying to remember what else I should be asking. The elusive forest smell of him had warmed until it permeated the whole room. It was so delicious, I wanted to roll myself around in it.
“Hey, Doc.”
“Yes?”
“Stop thinking so damn much.”
And then Red was holding my head in his hands and kissing me with a raw hunger that had me pulling him down on top of me, my legs coming up around him to press his hips down so that his erection pressed against me through the layers of his torn jeans and my sweatpants. I rubbed against him, too aroused to release him for a moment, but Red hauled himself up on his elbows, grunting with the effort as he yanked my pants down around my hips. I struggled in his grip, wanting the friction and the contact back, more aroused than I had ever been in my life.
“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m not trying to get away.” Moving far too slowly, Red pressed his lips against my belly, kissing his way down while I protested, trying to pull him back up.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Like hell I don’t.”
“I don’t want you to do that right now.”
Red met my gaze, and I saw that he understood perfectly. I’d washed, but I still felt as if I’d been tainted by Hunter’s touch. “Yeah, well, maybe this is about what I want. And I want to roll around in you.” Red knelt in front of me, one hand parting me so that he could breathe against the sensitive flesh between my thighs. Pulling me to the edge of the bed and draping my legs over his shoulders, Red kissed me there, his tongue probing, tasting, thrusting inside, then finding the swollen bud and suckling until I cried out.
Red levered himself up and unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. I could feel the blunt head of his penis at my entrance, and stopped struggling and closed my eyes. But Red just remained as he was, braced over me on trembling arms.
“Hey, Doc … You better put me inside. I’m not at my best here.”
I frowned at him, confused.
“My control … I might hurt you.”
I planted my heels and said, “Hurt me.” I meant it as a joke, sort of, but Red gave me a look of nea
r anguish, and then he thrust into me so hard I gasped. He pulled out, but instead of stopping or apologizing, Red slammed into me again, and I lifted myself to meet him. “Abra. Shit.” He paused, the ropy veins around his biceps standing out as he braced himself over me. “Should I … do you want me to …”
I seized him by the hair and kissed him so hard our teeth clicked together. I felt change and orgasm gathering force, and the wild scent of woods and man was filling the room, so that, with my eyes closed, I could believe that we were outside in the forest.
Red moved, his hands coming down to lift my right leg, changing the angle so he hit a place high up inside that blended pleasure and pain. I cried out, holding Red with all my strength as my orgasm flooded through me. A moment later, I felt him pulse inside me as the bones and muscles of our bodies shifted and changed.
“Hey, Doc?”
I opened my eyes. At some point, we had managed to roll off the bed, but Red had absorbed the shock of the fall. We were human, which surprised me until I realized we were still partially dressed, Red in his torn jeans, me in the sweats and ripped flannel shirt. “What?”
His hand cupped the slight feminine curve of my belly. “Just thought I should tell you: I’m going to knock you up.”
I laughed, thinking he was joking. Red brought my hand to his penis, which was already beginning to stir. “What are you, a teenager?”
“I’m in heat.” He moved my hand up and down on his shaft, which instantly thickened. “So you don’t mind?” His sharp teeth found my ear.
“Mind what?” The scent of him was stronger now, intoxicating me. He came up on one elbow, tracing a delicate pattern over my breasts with his fingertips and making me shiver with renewed desire. I was dimly aware that there was something I should remember, some doubt or concern.
“Having my babies.” His pressed a kiss to the base of my throat, and whatever I had been trying to remember floated out of my consciousness. My body was very clear about its response to the idea of pregnancy; it contracted like a fist, as if it could pull the word into the core of me and keep it there.
“Nursing my babies.” Leaning down, Red pulled one nipple into his mouth and suckled it hard, sending another contraction of lust rippling through me. “Living with me as my mate.” Red turned his attention to the second breast, and as stupid as it was to let my body decide this, that appeared to be what I was doing.
Red closed his teeth gently on my nipple, and I moaned. “Hang on a sec.” Red gave me a last flick of his tongue. “There’s something I want to do first.” Red smiled, and I smiled back. Then he pulled up my sweatpants, lifted me in his arms, and carried me back to the bed.
“That was a good something.” I reached up my arms for him, but Red shook his head.
“That wasn’t it.”
I collapsed on the bedspread, spreading my arms and legs in surrender. “So do it, already.”
Red pressed his thumb to my lips. “First, tell me you want me.”
That was easy. “I want you.” I sucked his thumb into my mouth, and Red inhaled sharply. I pressed one foot against his erection, which was peeking out of his undone jeans. “Bad girl. Down.”
I reached for the buttons of his fly. “You want me down, I’ll go down.”
“Hold that thought a moment.” Red drew his switchblade from his back pocket and I blinked in surprise.
“What’s that for?”
Red wasn’t smiling. “Sounds like you don’t trust me, Doc.”
“I trust you,” I said, with as much certainty as I could muster.
“Good.” Red rolled away from me, and as I watched from the bed, he flicked a button in the bone handle, releasing the four-inch blade which had been pressed against Magda’s neck. The knife, an antique, was illegal in a bunch of states, but Red always carried it, the way other men carried Swiss Army knives. Up close, I could see the symbols carved in the blade as well as the handle. Red had once explained their meaning to me: the bear claw, the double diamond shape that some called the shaman’s eye, the geometric pattern known as coyote’s tracks, because you couldn’t tell its direction.
“Good, ’cause this would be dangerous if you didn’t have complete faith in me.” Red walked over to the fireplace and thrust the blade into the flames.
Oh, God, this was some kind of backwoods test of loyalty, like going out to the local tattoo shop to have your lover’s name inked permanently into your flesh. I was guessing that Red had given up on my ever wearing his engagement ring, and had figured that nothing says “our love will never die” like an indelible mark of possession. Except that love still died, even when you had your sweetheart’s name branded on your skin. All that changed was the emotional scarring was made visible to the naked eye.
There was a creak of floorboards as Red walked back to me, the knife’s metal glowing red, then orange. Outside, the windows rattled with the force of the wind, and I found myself wishing that Red and I weren’t quite so alone. As I stared at the heated metal, I acknowledged to myself that behind all my practical excuses, there was another, more complicated reason why I hadn’t worn Red’s ring: I had been ambivalent about getting remarried so quickly. I’d made one mistake. I hadn’t wanted to make another.
And yes, I was still a little ambivalent. Maybe more than a little. Maybe that’s why you used to need a blood test to get a marriage license. If more marriages involved bloodletting, there would probably be far fewer divorces. “You know,” I said, hesitantly, “I’m not sure exactly what you have in mind here, but branding, tattoos—they’re really not my thing.”
I saw something flicker in Red’s eyes, as if he were doing a rapid calculation in his head. “You don’t need to receive the symbols, if you don’t want to. We could just draw a token amount of blood.”
I swallowed. “I don’t suppose we could just make love?”
Red shook his head. “This is a sacred rite.” His voice was oddly flat, as though he were disappointed in me. I realized that although Red had passed my test, I was failing his. In all the time I had been trying to decide whether or not Red was right for me, I had never considered that he might decide I was not right for him.
“What are you going to do?”
“Marry you. The Limmikin way. We mingle our blood.” He stood there, self-contained, not attempting to convince me by word or touch, even though he must have known that either would have pushed me over the edge. I felt a wave of desire for him so strong that my arms ached to reach out for him, but I hesitated. My mother’s question came back to me: Is Red Mallin really the man you want to father your children?
My body’s answer was a resounding yes. The very thought of it made my womb contract in longing. And it was possible that we’d already made me pregnant. But as I’d told Hunter, above the neck was where I made decisions. In my head, I went through my mother’s objections: That man would do anything to keep you. Lie, steal, cheat, kill. On the other hand, my mother had been wrong about his primitive sense of loyalty: I had, indeed, given in to Hunter, and Red had forgiven me.
Unless this was a trick, and now Red intended to hurt or disfigure me as payback. I stared into his eyes, their heated gold shading into hazel as the blade cooled and I did not hold out my arm. He remained still a moment longer, and then folded the knife back into itself while his face closed down. “It’s all right, Doc,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I don’t blame you one little bit.”
An image came to me, then: Red, using that knife to whittle designs into a cradle while I sat in a rocking chair by the fire, my hands on the heavy moon of my belly.
“Red.”
He looked at me, his face resigned. “I don’t need to hear the explanation. I get it.”
I held out my left arm. “I want to do it. Marry me.”
Red’s eyed widened for a moment, and then he shook his head. There were shadows under his eyes, and in them. “No, Doc, you don’t. You just don’t want to disappoint me, and that’s real sweet of you, but it’s not
enough. If you do this with doubt in your heart, it won’t work.”
Whatever my earlier reservations had been, I was now overcome by the conviction that it was this man, soft-spoken and wry and capable, who should be the father of my children.
For a moment, I wondered whether I could trust myself. After all, I hadn’t just betrayed Red with Hunter, I’d betrayed myself. Maybe this choice, like that one, could be influenced by hormones that were clamoring for mating and breeding. But after looking at that possibility directly, I dismissed it. We can never know our own minds completely, but in all my life, I had never felt more certain of the course I should take. When I had taken my vows with Hunter, I had been half-delirious with happiness while Hunter had faced the officiating bureaucrat with a bemused smile. At the time, I had thought, It doesn’t feel real.
But this, this primitive, personal ceremony that required a drop of my blood, this did feel real.
I walked over to Red and knelt down at his feet. I knew that it was traditionally the man who did the kneeling, but hell, that was because traditionally, it was the man who had the power. In our relationship, however, I’d been the one holding all the cards. “There’s no doubt in me. I want this.”
Red looked down at me, and then reached out his hand to haul me up. “Abra, you can’t fake your way through this.” A muscle jumped in the side of his jaw. “If you’re not completely certain about this bond, it’s not just that it won’t work, it could be dangerous.”
I stayed where I was, at his feet, gazing up at him. “I am certain.”
“Abra, it took you five minutes to make up your mind.”
“And now it’s made up.”
“It’s all right, honey.” His hand stroked my hair. “We can still make love. It’s not all or nothing.”
“Why are you lying to me?”
That startled him. “I’m not—”
“Then you’re lying to yourself. If we stop here, we won’t just stay as we were. Okay, I admit it. Maybe there still is a fraction of a doubt somewhere inside of me. I’ve been burned before. But even if it won’t work this way, even if it’s dangerous, I want to take that chance.”
Moonburn Page 19
