Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance)

by Bobbi Romans

  Same fears Damien had. He couldn’t offer any of those things to Grace. Or at the very least, not right now. On this, he agreed with Squire. Grace did deserve those dreams. And many more.

  He could be called many things, but self-centered was not one of them. Damien lowered his head and placed a palm on the door before easing away. The walk down the long hallway leading away from Grace was the longest walk he’d ever taken.

  They’d loved each other once. Grace and Squire. They could find love again. Squire, or Henry as she called him, would be able to provide her a good, safe and loving home.

  Knowing Grace was safe, happy, and well provided for would be enough.

  It would have to be.

  • • •

  “I never asked for any of that. I only wanted you. Yet you took my choice away. I suffered over fear of what happened to you.” She sighed and turned away, pulling herself in check. The last thing she wanted to do was fight with Henry. Shocked? Of course. Was she happy he hadn’t perished all those years ago? Hell yes she was. He was alive and she could brush his ass off just the way she planned to now. “We’ve become different people. And no, I’m not talking about whatever creature you share your soul with.” Part of her was curious and wanted to know what creature. But if she was ending things with him officially, asking would be too personal a question.

  “Go ahead, ask me anything, Grace. We used to share everything. Our dreams, lives, bed and bodies.” His voice went all smoky-like as he maneuvered toward her.

  She shivered as memories came back. Of the happy times they’d shared. He must have seen the question in her eyes and though there was a small part of her that wondered what giving into Henry would be like, her heart had other notions. It wondered where Damien was.

  Henry continued coming closer and he had the familiar look that at one time in her life, she swooned over. But even though his voice sent ripples coursing through her, they were nothing like the ones Damien prompted.

  She placed her hand on his chest stopping him from getting any closer.

  “While you will always hold a near and dear place in my heart as my one first love, I love another.”

  “Damien.”

  Stated, not questioned and Grace wondered what happened during her absence. “Yes.”

  “He makes you happy?”

  “I think he could, yes.” She hadn’t known how else to answer except with the truth. Still unclear how Damien felt about her though her heart told her to follow him, and follow she would. She’d been gifted with a second chance at love, and she’d be damned if she let anything or anyone spoil that chance.

  “Think?” Hope flickered in Henry’s eyes.

  “We haven’t caught a break since our getting sort of together. It’s been one damn thing after another.” She huffed, and tossed her hands up in the air, disgruntled over all the bullshit they’d gone through.

  “Then let me give you a gift and the promise that if you ever — and I mean ever, need me, I’ll always be here for you, Grace. Promise me, you will always remember that.”

  She wondered what he meant by gift, but his words touched her heart and soul, as well as lifted the heavy stone of uncertainty and guilt that weighted her shoulders.

  “I promise.”

  Henry leaned over and she worried for a minute what his intentions were. But he gave her a platonic soothing hug and as they broke apart pulled up one of her hands. He opened her palm and placed a set of keys in the center.

  “What are these?” The keys jangled, and she tossed them lightly up and down in her palm, testing their weight.

  “They’re to a small cottage I own down on Sanibel Island. A small cove, less traveled, and no one, until you, even knows about. It was a place of escape and reflection for me. Go get Damien and go somewhere private. Spend some time with him, and make sure he’s the one.”

  She saw the truth in his words. No tricks. Just peace for her and Damien to discover themselves and their relationship.

  “What are all the other keys to?” Far more than a cottage key jingled about the large round ring.

  “The one marked Ford is to the black Explorer sitting in the garage which is yours to borrow. The small one is to the entrance gate at the cottage. I meant what I said, Grace. I will always be here for you.”

  Henry stepped back, giving her a clear path to the door and Damien. She opened it, ready to tell Damien about Henry’s offer of a small vacay to his cottage, but discovered an empty chair and vacant hallway.

  Walking the few steps to Beth and Moss’s room, she rapped a few times and waited anxiously. Honestly, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this excited about anything. When no one answered, she turned in confusion to Henry.

  “Maybe they headed to the hospital to check on Trick.”

  “Trick? Why? What happened?” Her stomach roiled and her heart dropped. Her gut was right. After Henry explained about Trick fighting for his life and why … well, she understood Damien’s absence. He’d grown close with the kid, as much as he tried to deny it.

  Did he blame her for Tricks injury? If she hadn’t made that foolish move with Demetrius odds are the bomb wouldn’t have gone off.

  Oh who was she kidding? Demetrius was stark raving mad. The loon would have set off the bomb whether she’d attacked him or not. She knew this. Wouldn’t second guess herself.

  If anyone should be pissed off, it was her. She liked Trick too. Had every right to be by the kids side too. In fact, Damien had lied to her. Told her no one had died. So, Trick hadn’t died then … but fuck all, things didn’t sound too good. And what did Damien do?

  Vanished.

  Again.

  Even if only to the hospital. He should have at least offered to take her with him. She had to find him. Set things straight about Henry if nothing else. If he wanted to jet when she was done, so be it. But damn it, she would at least get the courtesy of a goodbye from him this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It took all of two minutes to call Beth as she grabbed her purse to discover Damien hadn’t left for the hospital with them. Beth briefed her in polite fashion about Damien’s mindset about Henry. Panic set in and Grace raced down the corridors, desperate to find him. They’d been through too much not to get a chance to explain about Henry.

  Damn the hardheaded ass. But she loved him.

  Grace refused to let another male make a decision concerning what she wanted or deemed acceptable in her life. Grace began backing from B.E.A.R’s garage when a figure jumped behind the vehicle.

  Fuck! She slammed on the brakes and prayed the idiot managed to maneuver clear of her path quick enough.

  Her door ripped open and strong arms snaked around her, yanking her slap out of the vehicle.

  “Grace, I don’t own shit. But before you decide to give that moron Squire, or Henry or whoever the hell he, is a second chance, know that no one will ever love you as much as I do. Love is all I have to offer at the moment, but I will do everything within my power to take care of you. To see that you never want or lack for anything. Give me a chance to prove myself.”

  Before she could assure him she’d been on her way to find him, Damien’s arms locked around her, caging her against him. Hot lips crashed over hers and delicious flutters ran amok through her. Her body warmed and southern area grew moist as her mind became mush. All that mattered was …

  Damien.

  Being with him. Them together. Nothing else.

  Her back hit the cool metal of the Explorer and her feet lifted from the ground. Instinct and gravity forced her to wrap her legs around his waist. His tongue delved deep and mingled with hers. Challenging hers to play. Her breasts became achy and she knew her nipples poked through the thin tee she wore. His hiss when he broke away from her mouth assured her Damien was quite aware of her aroused state. Warm lips trailed her jaw and neck as he pumped against her.

  Ah, so she wasn’t the only one turned on right now.

  The rock hard bulge
in his pants hit her in just the right spot. Her thighs trembled around his waist as she rocked against his thrusts, getting more and angry at the amount of clothes that stood between her and ecstasy. Talk about a body zinging to life. Yowza.

  “Need you.”

  His voice was rough and timbered and striking chords in her all on its own. He lifted her hair off her neck and began suckling one specific spot. She nearly giggled over the notion she’d be sporting hickeys tomorrow. But the strong pulls and the stronger thrusts sent her head reeling and her nether regions squirming. Her tee slowly rose as Damien drew it higher and higher until it bunched under her chin, and the mouth which had been diligently working her neck moved lower, latching onto a nipple through her sheer bra. Blunt teeth bit the engorged bud and had her squirming against him even more.

  “Damien. Oh shit … yes,” she cried as his teeth gripped the edges of her bra. Yes, off, now.

  “Geez, get a room already.”

  She never thought she’d moved so fast in her life. Her feet flew to the ground. Her nose slammed into Damien’s back when he whirled around to block her near naked state.

  “Whoa, dude. I coughed when I came out. You two didn’t so much as flinch. We’re heading down to the hospital. Things aren’t looking good for your friend.” Branch held his hands up in the air.

  She popped from behind the wall called Damien.

  “What’s happened?” she squeaked, both embarrassed yet worried sick.

  “Lily called. She was bawling. Between her gasps she said Trick’s vitals were becoming unstable, then a weird beeping started and she hung up.”

  “Were you able to talk with anyone else?” Damien paled as he asked and she knew he felt responsible for the kid.

  “No. I heard your friends, Beth and Moss, in the background trying to offer comfort, and right before the phone disconnected … ” He looked off appearing to dread what he said next.

  “What did you hear?” Grace came around Damien and lined herself up to jump in the driver’s seat of the Explorer.

  “Your friend Beth cried out, ‘Oh God no.’”

  Branch hadn’t finished before both she and Damien were in the Ford backing out. Grace hit the gas and they sped off for the hospital.

  “Damien, I’m so sorry. Oh God, you should have told me what happened. You shouldn’t have lied. My actions prompted … ”

  “No, it wasn’t your fault. I didn’t tell you because of the fragile state you were in. I feared the truth of his condition would have set you further in shock. It wasn’t a lie to hinder, but to help.”

  Tears flowed freely as she drove and her gut told her Trick was gone. The poor kid hadn’t stood a chance against the evil they were up against. Damien’s hand came to rest on her knee. A light squeeze drew her attention to him. His eyes were wet, though no tears fell.

  “No matter what we find, we will get through it together.” His voice was solemn, but she knew without a doubt they would. They would eventually go to their borrowed ocean retreat and rekindle the fires that burned deep. Bond closer than ever before and cement their fledgling relationship.

  But for now their strength was needed elsewhere. And they would offer it together, standing firm by each other’s side and though they headed to heartbreak, they would weather it, united as one.

  Just as they had all the other storms. Together, true and strong under the gentle rays of their beloved swamp’s full moon.

  More from This Author

  (From Swamp Magic)

  The swamp air sat heavy on her skin, as her water-soaked feet sank deep within the bog’s smelly muck. With each mud-laden step, Beth was certain she would lose one, if not both, of the fugly combat boots her brother had insisted she wear. She’d cursed him at the time, but was now more than grateful to have on the snake-proof boots. Whenever she found Robby’s ass and they got out of this godforsaken place, she’d kill him. No, scratch that. Skin him, then kill him.

  Damn, but she should have listened to Kara and kept her butt at home rather than gone out traipsing through this mosquito-infested, hot as Hades swamp, trying to track down some elusive-ass bog monster. She’d ignored her best friend, listening instead to her whacked-out brother while her inner Nancy Drew leapt at the prospect of a mystery. Now she was wandering lost, in the swamp … at sunset, no less. She’d rather be at home getting ready for bed, and hopefully another night with her dream man. Her faceless hero, whom though she’d never seen, knew would play some important part in her life.

  But no, color me stupid. She’d let her brother talk her into it. She was hot and miserable as she slapped at yet another mosquito while silently cursing herself.

  Irritable, she plucked at her sweat-soaked tee. She didn’t think she’d ever been so stanky in her whole life. A quick sniff to her pits served as confirmation. Good grief, surely the bog monster would hightail it in the opposite direction at the first ungodly whiff of her. So would any other living thing, she prayed, since darkness had fallen, and the night creatures had come out to play.

  An owl hooted right when she began to step over a log and right as something tapped her thigh. Her scream hit octaves she hadn’t known she possessed as some fast-paced high kicking had her precariously perched atop the next closest log.

  Shaking, it took her a few minutes of squinting through the darkness with only the aid of her fading flashlight before she realized her attacker was just a limb floating by. Whew. She’d feared a gator, or, worse, a slithery snake or lizard.

  Beth glanced about, if not for being lost, she’d almost be relieved no one was around to see her right now. Right, like who the hell would see? She was in the middle of freaking nowhere and worried about someone seeing her acting like a big weenie and not the capable self-sufficient woman she was.

  Shaking her head, she sat and tried to gather her bearings. Reaching behind her, she grabbed a wad of humid frizzy hair and attempted to plait the jet-black mess enough she’d be able to tuck the end inside the plait itself. The loose tendrils stuck to her back and face, driving her batshit crazy.

  Okay, now think, Beth, think. You last saw Robby and his doofus buddies by the old shack. You then, like a dumb-ass, went searching for them heading east … so said shack should be around the bend, a little more west.

  Certain of her whereabouts, she cautiously stepped off the log, noting the thick, lily-pad-covered water swirling to her right and said a quick prayer that whatever caused the swirl wasn’t deadly. The last snake she’d seen had her climbing a cypress tree faster than most of the raccoons she’d passed.

  Maybe if she moved really fast? No, predators were attracted by quick movements. Fast might not be the best idea. Almost hypnotically, her gaze drew back to the swirling, as the water almost seemed to turn iridescent. She shone her flashlight more toward the center, whacking the dying metal thing on her palm a few times to no avail. Relief washed over her when she saw no evidence of red glowing eyes lurking nearby. The glow, a sure telltale sign of gators lying in wait.

  Shit, why the hell hadn’t she paid more attention to those damn survival shows her brother always made her endure? What was the one show, Man Against Wild? Well, how about City Brat Against Wild? Wild would win, without a doubt.

  She scanned the area again and prayed she had indeed headed in the right direction. If not, she faced a long, tedious, and frightening night.

  Well, she sure as hell wasn’t getting to the cabin perched up on the damn stump. She wanted out of this godforsaken swamp with the humidity from hell. Not to mention getting away from the prehistoric-sized bugs swarming all around.

  The water eerily stilled as the swamp sounds came to an abrupt halt. No screeching hoot owls, no more insanely loud chirps from crickets. Nothing. No movement or sound pierced the night. Complete and utter silence greeted her. The loss of the natural sounds terrified her more than anything else. Something had spooked the critters and bugs, and her gut screamed that whatever it was, with her luck, was so not a good something.

&nb
sp; Time to go. She slid off the log and began wading toward the cabin — or, rather, she hoped toward the cabin.

  She felt more than heard the water swirling about her calves and whipped around to search for its source. Her heart rate went into overdrive as her palms grew sweaty, making it harder and harder to retain her death grip on the flashlight.

  Turning, she began taking cautious steps backwards toward the bend and the hopeful safety of the shanty she’d seen. Her beam was now so dim, the heavy-gauge metal was more weapon than light as she raised it over her head, aiming toward the swirls moving the deeper water to her right. In the midst of the strange whirlpools, the odd yet mesmerizing iridescence came back. Only this time it wasn’t almost glowing — it was glowing. The eerie, greenish blue spiraled about madly, only visible here and there as it peeked out between the many lily pads, obscuring her view.

  Terror gripped her, anchoring her in place as headlights do a deer over the freaky happenings before her. Trembling, her mind screamed to turn and run, but her body refused to heed her mind’s clear warning. Her heart beat with such velocity she swore it would burst from her chest at any moment. She couldn’t even seem to will breath into her body, and her lungs grew heavy. Her breathing became no more than ragged gasps as she began to hyperventilate.

  Her eyes widened as the active water began to become more centered. Fear froze her immobile. Though terrified, she continued to be drawn, almost as if in a trance, into its strange murky depths. Her vision zeroed on the brightest point amid the swirls, jaw gaping open as a form began to emerge.

  The form of a man.

  He rose from the murky depths like some type of Greek deity, Neptune perhaps. Her mouth grew dry as he continued his slow rise, inch by glorious inch. Terror receded as blatant curiosity arose. She tried to lick her parched lips as droplets of water ran down his wet, chiseled chest and continued running until they disappeared into the low-slung waistband of his pants. Pants which, luckily for her, were good and wet and plastered to his magnificent body, leaving little to the rest of her imagination. She nibbled her bottom lip, wanting to lick just one of those lucky, lush little droplets rolling down him.