Werewolf in the North Woods

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  His gaze smoldered for an instant longer. Then he blew out a breath and got to his feet. “We need to push on. So far I haven’t detected any evidence of the Sasquatch, so we’ll have to go deeper into the forest.”

  “That’s fine.” She was still slightly dazed by the realization that he wanted her, even though he was fighting the attraction tooth and nail. Ha. That phrase took on a whole new meaning when referring to a werewolf. Still, knowing Roarke was attracted to her would keep her ego warm for a good long time.

  But it didn’t do much for her stiff muscles. She winced as she got to her feet and hoped he’d missed seeing that. A quick glance in his direction confirmed that he was watching her and frowning.

  “I suppose you’ll argue if I suggest redistributing the load,” he said.

  “You suppose right.” She picked up her backpack and ignored the jab of pain between her shoulder blades as she put it on. “I invited myself along on this search and I intend to be an asset, not a liability.”

  He chuckled. “Good luck with that.”

  “Hey!”

  “Face it, Abby. No matter what your stated intentions, your very presence here fries my brain. I’m afraid you’re a liability whether you intend to be or not.”

  She liked the idea of frying his brain, but she didn’t like being labeled a handicap. “I’m handy with a camp stove. I’ll cook our dinner.”

  He glanced at her as he hoisted his pack to his shoulders. His very broad shoulders. “Thanks. That would be great. Cooking’s not my strong suit.”

  She wondered what he’d be doing if he were out here searching as a wolf instead of as a man. Better not to think about that. But she still believed she should have more information about this hidden community of werewolves. She’d ask him again over dinner.

  He swept an arm toward the trail. “After you.”

  “Maybe you’d rather lead.”

  “Nope. You know the area. I’ll follow you.”

  “Okay.” She suspected he was also letting her lead because then she could set the pace. Although she appreciated the chivalrous gesture, it only emphasized how her presence was hampering him.

  As she started up the trail, she battled her conscience. He’d be so much better off out here without her. But then she pictured going back to Grandpa Earl and explaining that she had abandoned the Bigfoot search to Roarke.

  While her grandfather would be happy to hear of a positive sighting from Roarke, it wouldn’t be the same as if Abby saw the Bigfoot pair. She was Grandpa Earl’s eyes and ears on this trip.

  That meant she had to maintain a brisk pace even if it killed her. As the trail wound upward, she took a deep breath and walked faster.

  Roarke tried to keep his mind off sex as he followed Abby up the trail, but his constant view of her cute little tush wasn’t helping. The navy material stretched temptingly across her backside as she trudged doggedly up the incline. He figured she was pushing herself to keep from holding him back, which was endearing but could make her a basket case by tonight.

  That wasn’t the only problem with having Abby out in front. They were heading into a slight breeze, which neatly blew her intoxicating aroma smack into his face. Not only did that add to his lusty thoughts, but the sensory overload from Abby might prevent him from picking up the scent of the Sasquatch.

  He paused. “Hold up a minute.”

  She stopped and turned, her breathing labored. “Is something wrong?”

  “I want to lead, after all. Your scent is interfering with my ability to track the Sasquatch pair.”

  “Oh! That’s not good.” Her cheeks grew pink. “Sorry about that. I used deodorant this morning, but I suppose with all the physical exertion I might—”

  “Abby, it’s not that you smell bad.” He smiled at her assumption, which showed how truly human she was. “If anything, you smell way too good.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. I’m starting to work up a sweat, and if we end up camping near running water, I’ll take a sponge bath. That should help.”

  “I don’t think you understand. Your natural scent is…very attractive to me.”

  She stared at him in obvious disbelief.

  “I told you both my sight and sense of smell are better, even when I’m in human form, than the average man’s.”

  “Then you should be more easily grossed out.”

  “Oh, I can be, especially if a woman wears lots of heavy perfume.”

  She grimaced. “Or has been on the hiking trail a little too long.”

  “No, that only makes your scent more arousing.”

  “Roarke, that’s crazy.”

  “No, it’s your first lesson in the Idiot’s Guide to Werewolves. When we first met, I’d recorded your scent and found it pleasing long before I paid attention to how you looked. The stronger your natural aroma, the more I like it.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Nope.” And if he didn’t get moving right now he’d have to do something about the lust boiling through his veins. “Follow me. I’ll take it easy.”

  Without waiting for her reply, he stepped around her and started up the trail. Another second of standing there and he would have reached for her. Once he did that, he was liable to forget about everything else, and he had a job to do.

  Chapter Eight

  Roarke forced himself to go slow for Abby’s sake. The snail’s pace frustrated him, but he wasn’t about to make her more miserable than she already was. She was determined and brave, sexy and smart.

  In fact, she had just about every quality he admired in a human being. He could do without her stubborn streak, but then, he wasn’t exactly perfect, himself. He liked her way too much.

  God, what a mess he’d made for himself. Finding the Sasquatch pair would be a challenge under these conditions. Keeping his hands off Abby, who was quickly turning into ideal mate material, might be impossible.

  How Aidan would laugh if he could see his younger brother now. Aidan would say it served him right for being so critical of Aidan’s infatuation with the lovely Emma. Karma was a bitch.

  Even though he was walking in front of Abby, he couldn’t let himself get too far ahead of her because that would be her signal to speed up. So he could still smell her, and he still wanted her with the heat of a thousand suns. When he’d agreed to this hike, he’d neglected to factor in the added allure of a sweaty Abby.

  He doubted that she believed him, even after his explanation. Modern-day humans were so conditioned to rid themselves of their natural scent that most of them didn’t understand what an aphrodisiac it could be. But he was constructed differently, to say the least, and he should have remembered this would be a side effect of the hike.

  Because he was so involved with thoughts of Abby, he nearly missed the faint trace of Sasquatch scent that came to him on the gentle breeze. Naturally it crossed the path, which meant if they intended to follow it they’d have to leave the trail.

  He’d been afraid of that. The Sasquatch pair wouldn’t bother with trails. They’d go cross-country, but he’d hoped for Abby’s sake that the trail would bring them into the general vicinity. He paused to sniff again. Yep, faint, but there and off to the right, through what looked like pretty rugged terrain. Shit.

  At least the rain had stopped for now. That would make things slightly easier, although he realized it could start up again at any moment. For now, though, the sky was overcast but no longer dripping on them.

  Turning back to Abby, he was confronted with a pitiful sight. She was limping. Noticeably. Of course she hadn’t said anything, stubborn and foolish woman that she was.

  Now what? Leaving the trail would have been a challenge for her before, but now he couldn’t ask her to attempt it.

  She glanced up, as if just noticing that he’d stopped.

  He took off his pack and set it beside the trail. “You’re limping.”

  “No big deal. Why did you take off your pack?”

  “Because it is a bi
g deal, and I want to help.” He closed the distance between them. “Did you trip?”

  “No. I have a charley-horse in my right calf. I’m walking it out.” She backed away from him and made a shooing motion with both hands. “Go get your backpack and we can continue on.”

  “Stand still for a minute, Abby.”

  “Look, I’m perfectly capable of—” She cried out a protest as he scooped her up in his arms, pack and all. “Stop this! I’m too big for you to carry!”

  “You’re not if you’ll stop struggling.” He was amazed at how right she felt in his arms, even wearing the damned backpack. “My plan is to carry you over to that rock and work on your leg.”

  “Damn it, no! That’s wasting valuable time. Put me down, Roarke. I’m fine!”

  “I beg to differ.” He tightened his grip, but she stubbornly continued to wiggle and protest as he crossed to a rock about the size of a coffee table. As he started to lower her onto it, she pinched his earlobe.

  “Let me go! We need to move on!”

  Making an impatient sound low in his throat, he did what he’d been longing to do ever since he’d met her. He kissed her full on the mouth. She went perfectly still, which had been part of his goal. The other part involved taking that brief, almost chaste kiss she’d given him yesterday and turning it into something that wasn’t even slightly chaste.

  Because he’d surprised her, he’d caught her with her mouth partly open, and he took advantage of that to mount an invasion with his tongue. She trembled on the knife edge between surrender and resistance. Then she lost that delicate balancing act and tumbled into a surrender that took his breath away.

  Clutching his shoulder with one hand, she used the other to cup the back of his head and urge him deeper. With a moan of triumph he changed the angle of the kiss and claimed her with a boldness that left no doubt of his ultimate intentions. She welcomed him with such passion that he was afraid he’d drop her. Not cool.

  Summoning what little reasoning power he had left, he settled her on the rock, but he didn’t end the kiss. He wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. She tasted like rain, but she also tasted like licorice, which she must have been sucking on while she battled her gimpy leg.

  Arousal made swift work of any remaining composure on his part. He was hard and aching, and he’d decided licorice was his favorite flavor. Sinking to his knees on a cushion of wet pine needles, he cradled her head in both hands as he continued to plunder her mouth. As he combed eager fingers through her silky hair, her ponytail came undone.

  Freeing her hair gave him a jolt of desire, as if he’d started taking off her clothes. Now there was an idea. Except she still had a heavy backpack anchored to her shoulders, and his original purpose had been to relieve a pain in her calf.

  With immense regret, he ended the kiss, although he couldn’t seem to stop running his fingers through her hair. He looked into her blue eyes, smoky with desire. “I knew this would happen,” he murmured.

  “So did I.” She ran her tongue over her lips. “And just so you know, I liked it a lot.”

  “So did I.”

  “But if I don’t take off this backpack, my shoulders are going to fall off.”

  “Damn.” Cursing himself for being a moron, he eased the pack from her shoulders and set it beside the rock. “You’re finished carrying that.”

  “But—”

  He placed a finger against her warm, moist lips. “Yes, you are. I’m very strong, Abby.”

  “I admit you’re stronger than I thought. I’m not a small person, yet you carried me as if I were a little kid.”

  “Exactly. I can easily transport everything in my pack plus everything in yours. So let me do it.”

  She kissed his finger and moved it aside. “You may be able to do it, but carrying extra weight has to slow you down. And you can’t maneuver as well, in case we come upon the Sasquatch pair. I have to insist that you let me haul what I’m supposed to.”

  He gazed at her, appreciating the grit that she was showing yet wanting to make sure she didn’t hurt herself any more than she already had. “Let me see about your leg, and then we’ll discuss who carries what.”

  “It’s a charley-horse. Everyone gets them.”

  He didn’t, but he chose not to mention that. “They can be painful, though.” Leaning down, he began rolling up her right pant leg. “Are you drinking enough water?”

  “Probably not. I get so focused on hiking that I forget. I’ll do better. I promise not to be the weak link, Roarke.”

  As he rolled her pant leg up to her knee, he was feeling like the weak link around here. Her skin was like silk as his fingers brushed her calf, and he caught the scent of lotion, soap, and the unmistakable musk of arousal.

  “Tell me if this hurts.” He began kneading her calf muscles, taking care not to push too hard or deep. She drew in a quick breath and he stopped. “Too much?”

  “No. It…helps.”

  “Good.” The scent of arousal grew stronger as he applied gentle, rhythmic pressure. His massage became a caress and he leaned forward, placing soft kisses from ankle to knee. He touched the back of her knee, rubbing in tiny circles, and her breathing grew shallow.

  Slowly he raised his head and met her gaze. “Better?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded rusty.

  Looking into her eyes, he carefully rolled her pant leg down. “From now on, you need to tell me when you have a problem.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “Any problem?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, then. Roarke, I have a problem.”

  He rested his hands on her knees, as if it were a casual, friendly touch. It was anything but that. “What is it?”

  “I want to make love with you.”

  His groin tightened. “Why is that a problem?” He brushed lazy circles over her knees, when what he really wanted was to rip her pants and take her.

  “You know why!” She sounded impatient. “For starters, it’s not on the agenda. We have a job to do. And it’s obvious you’re attracted to me, but you don’t want to be, I guess because I’m a human, although I don’t quite get that, because it’s not like I’m asking for a commitment or anything, but—”

  “Past history.” He stroked her thighs through the Lycra and felt her tremble. Heat danced in his veins. “Not long ago my brother got involved with a woman, thinking they’d just have sex, but the attraction was much stronger than that, and now they’re mated.”

  “You mean married?”

  “That, too, although it was just a formality.” He continued a slow massage of her thigh muscles. He told himself he was making sure she’d be ready to hike in a few minutes. Yeah, right.

  “My brother and Emma had a church ceremony to please her mother and friends, but only for the sake of appearances. The Were bond is more basic and physical than a walk down the aisle and an exchange of rings.”

  Abby’s eyes widened. “You mean she had to become a werewolf, too?”

  “No. There’s no way a human can become a Were. As I mentioned before, you have to be born that way.”

  “Will your brother and his…his mate have children?”

  “I just found out yesterday that Emma’s pregnant. My parents are excited, but with a mixed mating situation there’s no telling whether the kids will be Were or not, which is—”

  Abby gasped. “She could actually give birth to a werewolf?”

  Her horrified expression was exactly why he’d prefer to mate with his own kind. Humans could never truly understand or appreciate what being a Were was all about. Roarke wouldn’t change his status for anything, but a human could easily view him as a freak.

  “I’m sorry,” Abby said. “That reaction was rude.”

  He shrugged. “At least you’re being honest. And it’s not quite what you’re picturing. Even if she has a Were baby, the kid will look and act human until puberty.”

  “Oh.”

  “At that point he or she will develop the ability to shif
t if they’re Were. If they’re not…well, they won’t.” And pity that poor kid, born into a tradition they couldn’t be part of. If Emma and Aidan had more than one child, they could end up with one who was Were and one who wasn’t. Sibling rivalry would be taken to new heights.

  “So what about Emma’s mother? Does she know her daughter married a werewolf?”

  “God, no. That’s the other major problem. Emma’s not allowed to tell anyone, not her friends or her family. As far as her mother knows, Emma married the son of a wealthy financier. End of story.”

  “That would be a tough secret to keep from your family.”

  “I’m sure it is tough.”

  “And what if her baby turns out to be Were?”

  “One grandma will be thrilled and the other one will never know her grandchild can shift.”

  “What a weird dynamic that would be.”

  “It’s the price Emma pays. A steep price.” The more Roarke talked about his brother and Emma, the more he realized he was courting danger by even kissing Abby, knowing how she affected him.

  He didn’t want a human mate, and not because Aidan would never let him live it down. He could handle Aidan’s comments. But he couldn’t handle knowing what he’d done to a woman’s life. To Abby’s life.

  Apparently Emma had made the choice willingly and was very happy with her decision. But Abby had just registered shock at the idea of producing a werewolf child and keeping secrets from her family. Abby wasn’t Emma.

  And he wasn’t Aidan, either. A werewolf’s life was complicated enough without adding in the human mate element. Weres belonged with Weres, and humans belonged with humans. Mating a human with a werewolf put a terrible burden on everyone.

  Beneath his palms Abby’s warmth called to him, and making love to her right now, on this conveniently flat rock, would be so sweet. But he had to resist or they could both suffer serious consequences. She might think she could walk away from him, but she didn’t realize how strong the mating instinct was between them. Humans often didn’t pick up on that kind of thing.