by Tamar Sloan
“Seems logical.” My voice stays completely calm and composed, right until the last syllable. Then it wobbles and wavers. I swallow, knowing my willpower is going to do the same thing. I climb in like that didn’t just happen.
Inside the tent, we sit side by side, the gentle glow of a lamp highlighting how little room there is in this little yellow dome. When they labelled this a two-person tent, they obviously didn’t mean one Were and one Changeling. Eden sits forward, dark hair waterfalling down her back, all quiet grace as she closes the tent. Is the sound of a zipper closing meant to be sexy? Wildflower scent is everywhere. Hormones, heart rate, everything spikes at the thought of sharing this bed with Eden.
We pull our shoes off then I take my socks off. Eden takes her jacket off as I peel down to a t-shirt. I’m going to have trouble maintaining an even body temperature without extra layers of warmth. I don’t turn to see where Eden is looking as I climb into our bed.
Eden’s teeth are already chattering by the time she climbs under the sleeping bag. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t a polar bear in a past life.
“Come here.” I pull her in, her shoulder to my chest, and she burrows far closer than I had hoped, then sighs as the tremors disappear. I wonder if I should be sainted for this as I smother the urge to pull her in closer. “I think you only love me for my ability to be a human heater.”
She tilts her head up, those green eyes so close to mine. Those rose lips even closer. “Of course not.”
“Oh?”
Eden frowns in thought. “You can move heavy furniture.”
This is good. Mundane, safe conversation. “Keep me in mind if you’re ever moving.”
“You can sniff out a cheesecake for miles.”
I cock an eyebrow. “So can you.”
I get a great big smile for that one. “You are the fastest Were ever seen.”
“Good to know if they ever have Were Olympics.”
She flutters her eyelashes at me, those green eyes flickering like a movie screen of old, and I suddenly notice her hand on my arm. Is she getting flirty? “And for your hunky good looks.”
Deep inside my chest, my ego does a puffer fish impersonation. I give an exaggerated sigh, letting my shoulders drop on the exhale. “It’s a burden.”
Her sympathetic look is equally as exaggerated. “You poor thing.”
“Do you know what’s an even a bigger burden?”
“What?”
“When your girlfriend’s a stunner.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, she turns heads everywhere she goes.”
She gives me an unimpressed eyebrow raise. I decide to deliberately misinterpret her disbelief. “Okay, maybe that’s a bonus. She is with me.”
“I think we’re done now.”
“And she makes your heart skip a beat each time she looks at you.” Eden’s eyes fall to my chest. I tip her chin up with my finger, my voice dropping. “Okay, that’s definitely a bonus.”
A shy smile curves across her rose-colored lips.
“Although it is pretty doggone hard to keep your hands off her.”
Her breath hitches, stalling my own. “Who made that rule up?”
Her voice has dropped a few decibels, too, a husky whisper that flutters over me. The butterfly effect whipping straight through me. I take a deep breath, trying to steady the instant reaction. And get a lungful of warm wildflowers, fanning the flames, whipping up a storm.
I give in to the longing that I never wanted to resist.
My mouth comes down on hers, to find her not only waiting, but well past the halfway mark. Mouths lock, open and hungry. Eden falls back, pulling me with her, so that we’re face to face, chest to chest. I kiss her like I’m starving, like I’ve been holding back for too long. She kisses me like some barrier I hadn’t know was there has just been exorcised.
Her hands are everywhere. My hands want to be everywhere. They spear into the thick mass of her hair, trying to hold her still. But my two palms are nothing against this tidal wave of passion. She’s moving; her hands roam. They start in my hair, down my arms, fluttering across my shoulders, exploring my upper arms. And then they’re on my chest, leaving trails of fire across and through my shirt. They move further down to where it’s hiked up in our restless movements. Oh man, I want to feel her hands on my skin. Goosebumps ripple down my back.
My breath hitches, holds, as I wait. Want.
Her fingers edge across the hem, and in the dusky dark my shirt comes off, hers rides up until it might as well be off. We’ve started something that can’t be stopped.
When skin meets skin it’s like an explosive has detonated. Sparks, flashes, a multitude of small and too big eruptions. If this were a movie, it would be a flashing montage of desire. You’d see silhouetted hands roaming, fumbling one moment then so doggone sure the next. Lips touching again and again, tasting over and over and over. Bodies moving then freezing, then moving once more. You’d hear sounds of gasping, groaning, whispered words of love and wonder, punctuated by the silent pauses of stuttering hearts and faltering breaths.
But you wouldn’t get to experience how it feels. All scorching and hard, wondrous and soft, fast then slow, new but timeless, sexy and fragile, hot then hotter.
Eden’s soft, hot hand has found its home on my chest, like she knows that’s where I’ve ached for it to be. It stills and strokes over my wolf tattoo.
My mark!
Our bonded mark!
And I know I have to stop this before we reach critical mass.
I pull back, sucking air into my gasping lungs. I don’t want her to regret anything. She still doesn’t know... I grasp at something light. “We need a handbrake or something.”
Something flashes in her green eyes, something that cools those glowing emerald orbs. They tell me exactly what she’s wondering.
“No, Eden. You didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t think this could be any more right.”
A small smile tips up swollen red lips. Lips that almost, almost make me forget why I’m having this conversation. “Okay.”
Tell her... Jeez, what a great time for my Mitch-conscience to pop up. I pull back a little more, away from the voice, away from temptation. “You gotta know I want this.”
“I do.”
“I just…want to take it slow.” I need you to be sure.
“It’s okay.”
But her quiet answers, downcast eyes, and the dense feeling that has congealed in my gut tells me it isn’t.
“Eden, you’re the one I want to spend my forever with.” Tilted green comes up to meet my gaze. “Today topped amazing and headed off the charts, and there’s going to be so many more. Why don’t we save some our firsts for the others?”
For when you know everything.
“Okay.” This time those two syllables are different. A little breathy, a lot lighter.
My hand comes up to curl around her cheek. I kiss her, slowly and meaningfully, trying to put everything I’m feeling into the contact between our lips. My heart touching hers. Our souls connecting.
I pull back to see a soft smile tilting just-kissed lips. “Just as long as you know I love you.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “I’m stopping because I love you, not because I don’t want to.”
That one gives me a puzzled twist to her brows. “Okay.”
“Because I really, really want to.” Man it feels good to be honest, for one sentence to hold the whole truth.
That warm glow heats up to an all-out blush as her eyes dip once again. “Sheesh, I said okay.”
And I got a blush out of my girl.
I lie on my back, pulling her in close to my side. “Now, young lady, it’s time for sleep. You have another big day of running ahead of you.”
With a giggle and a sigh, Eden’s head drops to my chest. “You know it’s only a few weeks and I’m eighteen, too.”
“And I’m going to squeeze every drop of advantage I can.”
Eden stifles a yawn, l
ike she doesn’t want to admit I’m right. But I feel her relax, melting into me as the day finally catches up with her. The tent is warm and black, full of contentment, happiness, a slight undertone of unrequited passion. Her breathing slows, and I match mine to the steady, soft sound. Once she’s asleep I can stop gritting my teeth.
Then her hand on my chest starts to move, a drowsy, lazy sweep back and forth. It’s probably supposed to be calming and relaxing. But that affectionate, loving movement is anything but. I suck in a deep breath, trying to slow my heart, stop my hand from holding hers. From pulling her over me and picking up where I foolishly left off.
This is a whole lot harder than I thought it would be.
It’s gonna be a long night.
But the truth is, there’s nowhere else I’d choose to be.
24
Eden
Noah asleep is a sight to behold…for as long as you possibly can. I can’t decide if I want to touch those tousled, dark blond strands first? Or taste those sleep-softened lips?
Or do I want to lie here and watch the gentle rise and fall of his chest as his words from last night sing through my heart?
I could do all three…
I shift, the sleeping bag rustling. Could it be possible?
Noah spoke of a future, of a forever. There were no specifics, like is a bonding even possible? And how to tell his family. But it’s all I need. Any shred of evidence that dreams can come true.
Noah moves a little, and sleepy, blue eyes open to find me watching him. A slow smile, relaxed and enchanting, climbs up his face. “Good morning.”
“Yes, it is.”
Noah’s smile hikes a few more inches as I echo his words. Said so long ago, in a school parking lot, the day after I discovered he was a Were. The day after I said I would give us a chance.
I sink into the arms that open, resting my head on his chest. I hear his drowsy heartbeat, regular and soothing. “Sleep well?”
“I want to sleep like that always.”
The song in my heart turns into a symphony. A rhapsody of sunrise and sound and blushing and sandalwood and heaven. “Me, too.”
Although maybe with a little less stopping and a whole lot more touching.
I look up to find humor lurking in those blue pools, telling me he read between the lines. “We should get up.”
“Yeah, we should.”
Neither of us moves.
Today we head home, back to reality. Where we’ll have to face the implications of everything we’ve committed to. What a scary, exhilarating prospect. I want to stay here forever, but also rush out and face our new life. Together.
A gust of wind rattles the yellow polyester around us. Mother Nature appears to be hurrying us up, making the decision for us. We both climb out of the tent to find dawn shadowed by clouds. It seems the storm front has crept in during the night.
“I don’t think we’ll beat it,” Noah says, pointing at the growing blanket of clouds.
I shrug, grabbing the first sleeping bag and jamming it into its cover. “You’re fast.”
Noah does the same with the second. “I don’t think I’m that fast.”
I grab a tent pole and pull it out. I smile at the guy who has promised me forever. “Only one way to find out.”
In short time, we’ve packed up the very first bed Noah and I have ever shared. It’s a cold wind that whips the crumbs from our fingers as we eat our muesli bar breakfast.
The whole time I’m smiling; Noah and I touch. Is this where Tara’s eternal well of optimism stems from? Is it the physical exhilaration of being so close to someone you love, or the wondrous words we exchanged, or the love you know is reciprocated, that has been promised a future?
As I shove the last of the camping gear in the backpack, I sense Noah move, and the metallic scent hits my nostrils telling me he’s shifted. The white wolf that approaches me is light-footed and smiling. My own happy feet cover the last few steps, a matching grin across my face. I can feel it all, so much clearer, so much crisper. With words redundant, I leap on his back. We know where we’re going.
I turn to look back at the little clearing, scattered ashes and flattened grass proof we spent the night. Physical evidence that we made our commitments. My happy place.
Our happy place.
I just about strain a smile muscle as those words whisper through my mind. I sink forward, burying my face in the snow-white fur. Our happy place.
Backpack on my back, we’re off again. With the blustering, biting wind, I hunker down, drawn to the warmth of the wolf beneath me. I can feel Noah’s tenseness as massive muscles stretch and contract, stretch and contract. They don’t slow, never falter. The sky progressively gets darker, starting a patchy blue and grey then condensing to make a bleak, ominous ceiling.
But the cracking pace and determined drive aren’t enough, because an hour later the first few drops hit. Icy pelts of cold smack my face. Just one or two, harbingers of what is to come. Droplets of ice promising that winter has managed to cling high in the atmosphere, fat heavy blobs, omens of the amount of water that is being held overhead.
Noah picks up the pace, paws pounding the ground, a steady drum beat that accompanies the growling above. The clouds shift and drop, grumbling and discontent, looking like they’re pregnant—heavy and uncomfortable.
We’re about to get—
Like Noah just gave the clouds permission, the rain starts. Heavy, cold drops pepper my face and shoulders, big enough to create little pools of water on my clothes. Big enough to land on Noah’s fur then gain momentum and slide down.
I look up at the lead sky; the clouds have stretched out, horizon to horizon, like they’ve made themselves at home and don’t intend on leaving anytime soon. It’s a cold, unbreakable sight.
Noah runs and runs, like he’s fast enough to dodge the pellets of cold. The progressive saturation of my face, hair, and clothes proves he isn’t. I hunker down and curl up into the warmth below me. Thankful that at least my front half is warm and dry.
When the incessant heavy drops don’t stop, they begin to join, surface tension drawing them together, creating little rivers over my skin. They snake down my arms, over the backpack, down my sides. They saturate my socks and boots, my hair and face, my chest and sides.
I ignore the cold for as long as I can. But when the icy water creeps beneath my clothes, creating a thin, icy sheet between me and Noah, it becomes a battle to disregard the bite of Jack Frost. The shivers start, in waves at first, and then a permanent shudder rolling from my teeth to my toes.
We need to stop and get warm.
Noah’s words almost make my numb lips smile. Despite the icy rain, there’s only one of us feeling the cold. But I’m relieved when he swerves toward the trees and into the forest, only to discover the branches of pine enclosing us don’t stop the determined rain as Noah powers between the trunks. I curl up tighter, hoping he finds some shelter, listening to the heated thrum of his heart deep in his chest.
When Noah stops, I almost don’t want to uncurl. I’m cold, a wet, soggy block of ice, and my only source of heat is the furry body beneath me. When I register there’s no more water hitting me from overhead, I look up and around. We’re standing on a rocky outcropping, great big boulders a giant dropped in the middle of the forest. A flat slab leaning on one of the rounded rocks has created a small, but dry, shelter.
I slide off, and Noah shifts in a flash, my wet, blinking eyes suddenly finding him before me, my wet, shivering body quickly encased by his.
I wrap my arms around him, his clothes just as wet as mine. “I’m going to have to wring the water out of my bones when we get back.”
Noah chuckles, his hands rubbing my upper arms. “We need to make a fire.”
It’s my turn to half-laugh. Nothing is going to be dry if it’s under these clouds.
Noah steps away, and that grin of his sparks warmth deep in my chest. “Dad and I camped out here back when I was Alpha training, remember? Giv
e me ten.”
With a hard, wet kiss he disappears into the curtain of water. I shrug off my water-logged backpack, take the three steps to the back wall, and sink to the ground. The thought of a warm fire and an even hotter Were, my Were, has the shudders settling to low tremors. I rustle through the backpack, hoping a spare cracker or muesli bar has been spared from the saturating rain.
When I hear four paws approaching, rocks skidding down, a smile is already on my face before I’m up. When a wolf rounds the tree we both jump back.
The wolf before me is the right size, definitely a Were, but the wrong color. This wolf is slate grey, the color of the angry clouds that frame him.
It’s not Noah.
Grey eyes that had widened when he saw me darken to lead as I stand there, dripping and frozen.
I’m not scared straight away. Startled, yes. But not scared. The wolf watches me, his nose lifting infinitesimally, scenting me out. I can sense his indecision about his next move.
I’ve never seen a Were in the wild, one I don’t know. I don’t bother with my tune, this isn’t a dangerous wild animal. I’m not a food source; I just need to convince him I’m not a threat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”
The wolf’s grey head straightens, and I feel his surprise.
“We were just passing through and got caught in the storm.”
I look around. Do Weres have territories?
When his eyes narrow, his head sinking lower than his shoulders, that’s when I sense it. He’s decided what his next move will be.
Then I get scared.
When one paw lifts, moves forward, and drops to the rock floor, bringing the mass of muscles closer to me, it increases to fear. My heart leaps, jarring painfully in my chest, when the wolf takes another step. His body posture, his steely determination tell me everything.
He’s not angry.
He’s cold and grey and has a target.
Fear thrums through my veins, an electrical charge I can’t contain, when I realize Noah will come running. Flashes of his fight with Kurt, of the blood running down his snow-white leg, have trembling hands come up to my mouth, holding in the ‘no’ that wants to scream past. The one that would make no difference.
