Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance)

by Bobbi Romans

  She’d been so sure fate took mercy on her when Damien arrived in her life. She’d truly never thought to love again. How could any woman not take special note of him? Large, muscled and complete perfection. His dark hair, thick and long. His blue eyes so light they hypnotically drew you in. Hell, even his scent, smile and the way he laughed, rare as it may have been, promised untold pleasures. And even when she wasn’t one hundred percent certain he returned her interest, least not in the long-term sense, she’d decided she’d go after him. Make him change his mind. That’s how much the man affected her.

  She found not a damn thing about him she didn’t like. Well, except for his Bohemian attitude about her being the little lady. She’d been on her own far too long to cruise into such mentality. But given time he would have learned she was quite competent all on her own.

  Or so she’d thought. Today proved otherwise and their lives were lost in her attempt at doing so.

  Why didn’t I wait? Damien would still be alive. Instead he lay dead, and all because of her recklessness.

  No longer caring about a damn thing, she laid her head on the ground and watched the sunset in the lone window that remained in the tattered remains of her memories. She shut her eyes as the sun slid into her beloved swamp and prayed she never woke up.

  • • •

  He wasn’t sure how, but Damien sensed Grace’s distress. “What do you remember?” he asked to prompt Beth with her memory. “She mentioned years ago a place she and her fiancé built. Before he up and disappeared and all.”

  “Did she happen to mention where the place was located?” Now things were moving in the direction he needed. A direction which may lead him straight to Grace. He stalked toward Beth unintentionally aggressive, prompting Moss to step in front of her with a stance threatening retribution if he didn’t cool his jets. He nodded to show his shit was in check. Barely, but nonetheless he would never harm Beth. But hearing a lead where Grace may be damn near felt like someone hooked up electricity to him. He was super charged and ready to bring Grace home where she belonged.

  Home?

  Fuck yeah. Grace was home. His dumb, hardheaded ass recognized the fact now. Gods be, he prayed his acknowledgement was not too late in coming.

  “She never gave me an address. I just know it’s a special piece of land hidden nearly in the swamp itself. She always glowed when she spoke of the place.”

  “She did?” Squire broke in.

  Damien didn’t like Squire’s interruption nor the half-assed triumphant look on the man’s face.

  “Her heart shattered the day Henry never returned. But she never gave up hoping. Prayed one day he might come strolling in,” Beth said.

  “So she never went on to marry?” Again, the asshat Squire took them off course and continued to piss the fuck out of him.

  “Can we get back on fucking track?” Damien tried to step between the hijacked conversation.

  “She pined for years over the man. Hell, all the way up until she met … ” Damien caught Beth’s gaze flick his way before she trailed off. Grace’s feelings toward him were a private matter. One which he intended on getting to the bottom of once he found her. He’d prove how much he loved her and would be a worthy mate.

  “Then to find out he stopped fighting for her and decided to become one with the swamp creature he’d been cursed to share a soul with? Hell no. Aunt Grace is worth fighting for ‘til the day she dies. So, he lost my vote.”

  “How are you aware of his fate? Are so sure of what transpired of her missing fiancé?”

  “Well Moss and Damien heard rumor the some dipshit chose to turn into his animal counterpart. Yes, it may be only rumor and maybe it wasn’t even him, but I doubt that considering the name overheard was Henry. The name of her missing finance. Rumor also had it that the animal was killed.” Beth glanced at him then turned to Moss for confirmation. He nodded before attempting to get them back on track.

  “Excuse me while everything Beth said is true — are we going to rescue Grace or continue discussing some deadbeat fiancé? Because if I have to head out and check every damn piece of shit shack on the swamp I will, but isn’t it best for Grace if we try to jog your memory of where and speed up finding her?” Beth’s attention swung back to him. She looked a little confused by the drilling Squire just put her through. Damien suspected the why, but shoved the thought to the back burner for now.

  “I can’t think of anything more details.”

  “Maybe a bend in the water or old oak trees … something?” he prompted Beth.

  “I might have an idea where she is,” Lily quietly spoke.

  “How would you possibly know?” Damien saw the glint in Beth’s eyes turn downright dangerous looking.

  “Lily has visions occasionally,” Squire offered quickly, but Damien smelled bullshit. The man was lying out his ass. But why? Even Beth picked up on the swift cover-up attempt as did Moss, judging by the slight nod he gave.

  “So where then?” Her hands were planted on her hips, but the set in her jaw told Damien Beth was about to go off in a big way if Lily didn’t answer fast and truthful. No more crap.

  “It’s at the end of what is now known as Heaven’s End. I can lead you there, but I really wanted to stay close to the phones for word on Trick.”

  “Lily, come with me and we can check on Trick before leaving.” Squire escorted Lily from the room before any of them could argue.

  Once the three of them were alone, Damien came straight out with it.

  “He’s hiding something. Big.”

  “Damn straight he is. The lie’s stinking up the whole room,” Moss agreed.

  “What are they all hiding from us and why? I thought the whole point in the invitation was to join forces in fighting the Society. Now, I’m wondering if this whole ruse was simply to keep us under their watchful thumbs.” Beth slammed her palm down on the counter behind her.

  “What do you mean?” Moss asked.

  “While we’ve been here, they’ve been able to keep watch over our every movement.” Damien answered for her, seeing where her line of reasoning headed.

  “Exactly.”

  “I apologize for the delay.” They turned to see Squire stroll into the room alone.

  “Where’s Lily? We need to leave. Enough stalling. Grace’s life is at stake and now is no time for coddling the girl.” Damien stated.

  “I assure you, I coddled no one. Lily and Trick formed a rather special bond. One that has left her uniquely tied to him. It is in her best interest to return to the hospital and be by his side.”

  “I thought you said it was too risky for her to do that?” Damien questioned the sudden change in plans. What had changed since earlier when the girl begged to stay and now? All the unanswered questions simply snowballed and added to his sense of unease.

  “Trick slipped into a coma. The doctors are stumped as to why his condition continues to worsen. They’d feared he wouldn’t make it, then he rallied for the better. Out of the blue they claim his vitals became unstable again and has now drifted into the coma. I felt it best someone he’s familiar with be at his side.” Squire said.

  Damien nodded in agreement. As much as he’d like to check on the kid himself, Grace’s safety took priority. Always would.

  “Lily gave me directions, which I wrote down. Are we ready to leave?” Squire abruptly changed the subject again, but Damien didn’t give a rat’s ass. He’d been ready and wouldn’t be able to hold back his animal counterpart straining for its mate any longer. He stormed out of the room ahead of the others, and barreled for the front door.

  “Guess that answers my question,” he heard Squire mutter behind him.

  He rode with Squire, this time in a Range Rover that Slick, Punge, and Branch had thoroughly checked for any booby traps, namely bombs. Squire even gave the vehicle a once over himself, as did Damien before climbing in. Didn’t stop the nervous twitch Squire gave right before he turned the keys. Truth be told, Damien heard the hitch in everyon
e’s breath when Squire turned the ignition over.

  The ride for the most was short and quiet. Was Grace someone’s captive or had she run to the symbol of her first love? And if so, what did this say about where her heart really lay?

  He wasn’t stupid. All he could offer may not be enough. Deep down Damien understood he’d never be able to offer her the kind of life Henry would have. The type she deserved … but damned if he didn’t want her anyway. Wanted to try to make her every moment in life safe, happy and loved.

  But very soon he might get the truth. Funny thing was, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

  Chapter Twenty

  They’d gone down more back roads than most would have been able to remember, but Damien mentally bookmarked each one of them. He’d never be somewhere and not find his way out. That said, he knew the swamps like the back of his hand. He’d always find his way home. Always.

  Finally the Range Rover drew to a stop in front of a rickety half-built shack. Even as dilapidated as the thing had become, Damien envisioned the beauty of what would have been had things not gone awry for Grace and her beau. Sadness rooted deep for her. For the pain she’d endured alone.

  “Can you feel the emotion radiating around us?” he heard Beth whisper to Moss.

  “Yes. Like sorrow has woven around all life within this area.” The slight rustling sound of a body moving indicated Moss had embraced Beth.

  Smart man. Recognizes what he has and holds on tight.

  Though sad for Grace, had her fiancé not disappeared, he and Grace would have never met, Damien mentally admitted. For this reason, and though he wouldn’t have wished the evil of Octavia on any man, he would not lie and say a part of him wasn’t glad the fiancé had vanished.

  Grace belonged with him. Period. Now that his dumb hard-headed self had figured out his ass from his heart, anyone trying to get in his way would wish to their God they hadn’t.

  “She’s here. I detect her scent,” Squire said and his tone sounded … off. Damien wasn’t sure what undertone he picked up from the man, but it had him ready to kill. Fighting back his territorial instinct to destroy Squire over the comment, Damien exited the car before Squire managed to get a leg out.

  Damien cupped his hands around his mouth as he yelled, “Grace” and prayed for a response.

  Silence.

  “Grace. Are you here?” he called again as he moved toward the ruins, cautious and wary for any potential traps.

  Silence.

  “Oh God, what if she isn’t?” Beth’s voice broke as the question trembled from her lips.

  Damien spotted the rickety dock that led out to the floating shack. The place sat situated half on land, half off, as a small waterway stood between land and home. He tested each plank and though the old weathered wood creaked in protest, it appeared to be able to hold his weight.

  “We need to cross slowly and one at a time,” he warned the others.

  Each board cracked a little, but held strong as he made his way across. Beth was two steps behind him and Moss two behind her. Though the water was not drowning deep, its stagnate surface held numerous threats hidden beneath. Gators and snakes, two of the worst.

  Once his foot finally made contact with what he assumed had once been a porch, he called yet again in desperation for Grace.

  Silence.

  The front area, barely standing, would not be able to withhold all of them. He motioned for the others to wait. Last thing he wanted to do was destroy the last remnants of a place Grace loved and cherished.

  The three behind him decided to turn back, easing carefully off the equally disintegrating deck.

  He fought the urge to race into the dilapidated dwelling and verify Grace hid somewhere within, but he feared any heavy footed movements would bring the place crumbling down.

  “Grace. Sweetheart, are you here?” He lowered his voice, forcing the hard fear-laced edges down a notch.

  The place had turned dark, but his nocturnal sight aided in seeing in every nook and hidden cranny. Finally, he made out a shape curled up a tight little ball.

  Grace.

  He went and knelt at the ground beside her. Pale, ice cold, and shivering in fierce abandon, he feared for her well being. How long had she been her like this? The air around wasn’t nearly as cold as her body, and it looked like she was in shock.

  “Grace, honey … talk to me,” he soothed as he scooped her frail body in his arms. Her eyes remained clamped shut and he couldn’t distinguish whether from real sleep, shock or refusing to acknowledge his presence. “Honey, you’re scaring me. Come on, sweetheart. Wake up for me.”

  She seemed so small like this. Not the vibrant, headstrong woman he’d come to love and this fact scared the holy shit out of him right now.

  “D … Damien? C … c … can’t be. You’re dead.” Faint as her proclamation was, he caught her words.

  “No honey. I’m fine. I’m right here.” He stroked the sides of her face and shifted so she faced him. When she finally opened those gorgeous blue peepers of hers, he wanted her to see him. Proof he was very much alive. Hell, as her tantalizing scent reached his fear-addled subconscious, something else jumped alive as well. Normally he’d feel like a heel cradling her and getting wood, but if that was what it took to get her to believe he wasn’t a dream, then so be it.

  He lowered his mouth to her ear.

  “I’m not the only presence alive right now, Grace. No way you can’t tell — Junior says hi. Wake up for me now. Let me prove just how fine we are. Open those pretty blue eyes. Let me in, Grace.” Relief flooded when her hand, shaky as it was, reached up to move a lock of hair from his eyes.

  “I don’t understand. You’re dead. I heard the explosion. Demetrius said … ”

  “Whatever he told you were fabrications of the truth. No one died.” Though Trick still fought for his life, Damien’s words were still the truth.

  “Promise me no one died. Promise me. Please, oh please, oh please.” Her voice wavered and again, the sense she perched on the verge of shock caused panic to flare in him.

  “No one died.” He didn’t count Demetrius as a someone, so he wasn’t being computed into the equation.

  “Beth?” Weak, but her voice strengthened the longer they spoke.

  “Is just fine and outside this dwelling.”

  “Moss?”

  “Moss is fine, too. They are outside with Squire. Waiting for us to come out.” He wished he had a way to alert them, but he didn’t dare leave her side yet. He wanted her talking and alert. The more she did, the better she looked. Her color even appeared to be returning.

  “I thought I’d killed you.” A keening wail burst from her, and she began rocking again. He couldn’t let her slip back to where she’d been. Gripping her waist, he sat her up on his knee. With one arm crooked behind her, he used his free hand to force her gaze back to his.

  “You didn’t, so don’t leave me again. Stay with me, Grace. I’ve been too stubborn to acknowledge all the emotions hitting me, but damn it, I love you. Ever since that day on your porch when you trusted me enough to open up. Since I massaged your shoulders and your scent, tears and laugh drew me in like a bat to a cave.”

  Silence.

  “Did you,” sniff, sniff, “just reference me like a bat to a … a … cave?”

  Okay, in hindsight his rendition of their magic moment may not be the most romantic of descriptions. But he lived in a cave. Bats loved caves.

  “Um. I’m not the best at … ”

  Damien found himself pleasantly cut off by a warm set of plump lips. She may have meant for the gesture to be sweet. But it was so damn much more. The satin lips sliding across his stirred the hunger within. His tongue swiped between their softness, urging them to part. Let him in. His animal surged forth happy its mate was back. His hand ran the length of her back, wanting more than to be stroking fabric. He needed to touch her. Skin on skin. Proof she was safe and within his embrace, where she belonged.

  Her moan e
licited a direct call to action from him. His tongue ran the length of hers, swirling ‘round and ‘round as they dueled in the most basic of all dances. He brought her body flush against his, languishing in the soft curves of his woman against him … safe. Felt the press of tight puckered nipples poke against his chest and wished others weren’t waiting. He’d take her right here and now on this weathered old floor and implant himself within the memories of her past. Give her new ones to cling to while burying the old.

  Grace kneeled then rose enough to lift a leg over his waist until she sat on his hard cock. Her hips rocked back and forth as she ran her crotch over his bulge. Her small puffs, pants, and tilting pelvis told him her gyrating hit all the right spots. Sure, he could have lifted her dress and been in her in a matter of one blink. He needed her as much it appeared she needed him. But Grace was too classy a woman for him to chance them being caught.

  If he didn’t call out to the others soon, they’d be barging in.

  Pulling his mouth away he rested his forehead against hers, their hair blending to create the perfect of private canopies around them.

  “No … don’t stop. Please, I need you. Need more. Was so cold and now am … ”

  “Am what? Alive? Sultry? Yes, you are. Smoking hot. But sadly we aren’t alone.”

  “What?” That grabbed her attention and had her smoothing her dress back down while glancing behind them in a nervous fashion. “Oh my God, I forgot what you’d said about others.” Her face blushed the most beautiful shade of crimson he’d ever seen. Far more lovely than even the exotic bloodwood blooms that sprang up around the swamps in springtime.

  “Uh, Damien.” Her expression had become most quizzical. Almost humorous as she pointed behind them.

  He turned to see four young armadillos standing there watching them.

  “They’re staring,” Grace quipped as a smile spread across her face. “Your doing, I gather?”

  “Not that I’m aware.” He patted his thigh and the four armored creatures waddled right over.