She shut her eyes. Her heart was still beating so fast from the scare. She needed to stop watching scary movies, that was all. Red eyes indeed. She chuckled a little, shakily. Then she wandered over to one of the chairs next to the fire pit and sat down. She tried to breathe evenly, thinking that might calm her heartbeat.
She had been frightened like this before, of course, but never quite this exposed. Fear was generally something she dealt with in the safety of her own house. It was something that was unnecessary. Being afraid was a silly thing that she did occasionally, not a response to real danger.
Why, she’d never thought that there was something out to get her.
At least not in her adult life. The edge of her consciousness raised the image of the red balloon again—
And she promptly shut it down. That was the last thing she wanted to think of. It had been popping up far too often these past few days, and she usually didn’t think about it at all. Of course, she knew that it was partly because of the stress of her kidnapping, but that didn’t mean it was acceptable.
No, she chose to think only of her ridiculous fears, when she was snug in a bright house after an afternoon marathon of zombie movies. Those kinds of fears made her feel in charge, because they were contained, and they were fantasies. There were no such things as zombies. Being afraid of them was safe.
Werewolves, on the other hand, they were real. And that man in the woods, the one in the white t-shirt…
Stop it, she told herself. This wasn’t helping anything. I’ll think of something happy instead.
She wracked her brain for a happy memory, but she just kept tripping over memories of the good times with Chad, and that didn’t make her feel any better. Each of those memories were like bombs. She’d touch them, feel the outer ring of pleasure, and then the fact that Chad had left her would explode in her face, and all she would feel was devastation and loneliness.
Things weren’t supposed to have gone the way they’d gone. She wasn’t supposed to be a fat, divorced woman in her mid thirties. She was supposed to be a happy mother, two children in bed as she puttered around the kitchen, cleaning everything up and making lunch for her devoted husband.
She felt like crying.
Why was it that everything she thought of made her sad? Was her life really that pathetic? I’m divorced, I’m childless, I’m attracted to a man who thinks he’s a wolf, and I’m about to get killed by a man lurking out in the woods.
But no. There wasn’t any man in the woods. He was gone now, and she’d dreamed him up.
That was when the man from the woods burst out into the clearing. He was holding his gun and waving around a flashlight. “I heard you, Ryder, and I’m here,” he said.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Calla screamed.
She got to her feet and tried to move, but the lawn chair she’d been sitting in got tangled in her feet, and it was all she could do to keep her balance.
Ryder raised up, baring his teeth and growling at the man.
“It’s me,” said the man. “It’s Leroy. You aren’t going to say hi?”
Calla lurched forward, knocking the chair over completely. It collapsed noisily.
The man looked at her. “Well, hi there, button.”
Button?! She was streaked with terror now, all of it churning through her gut and making her feel wild and crazy. She grasped Ryder by the shoulder and yanked him upright. She wasn’t sure how she had the strength. She held Ryder’s body like a shield between her and Leroy. “Stay back,” she whispered.
Leroy’s gaze flicked away from hers and back to Ryder’s. “Come on, Ryder. You were yelling for me. I heard you. Well, I’m here. Let’s talk.”
Ryder snarled.
“He can’t talk,” said Calla.
“Bullshit he can’t,” said Leroy.
“Please go away,” she said.
Ryder wanted to jump on the man. He was straining against her grasp, but she wouldn’t let him go. The man had a gun, and if Ryder attacked him, she didn’t know what might happen.
“I heard him,” said Leroy.
“Well, he was talking, but he stopped,” she said. “There’s something wrong with him.” God, was she really trying to explain this to the man with the gun? Well, he wasn’t pointing the gun at them. But she could see it, dangling from his hand, glistening darkly in the night. It wouldn’t take much for him to level it, to shoot.
Ryder tore out of her grasp—too fast for her to stop him. He lunged onto Leroy, throwing his entire body on the man.
Leroy fell down on his back underneath Ryder, letting out a hoarse noise. The gun fell out of his hand.
She let out a little cry. No. What was happening? Without thinking, she threw herself after Ryder. She ripped him away from the other man. “Stop it. He’ll shoot you.” She managed to pull Ryder back, but Ryder stayed on his hands and knees, growling.
Leroy fumbled for his gun. “Ryder?” He looked warily at the other man.
“Run,” said Calla, tugging on Ryder. “Before he gets the gun.” She took off away from the fire pit, past the tent, heading for the freight container.
Ryder wasn’t coming with her. He was still snarling at Leroy, every muscle in his neck standing up straight against his skin.
She shrieked. “Ryder! Come on!”
Leroy picked up his gun. He fired into the air as he started to get to his feet.
The gunshot was loud, piercing the air and echoing over the trees.
It seemed to spook Ryder, who let out a howling cry. He scrambled backwards, closer to Calla.
“That’s it,” she said. “Come on.”
Leroy was standing. He pointed the gun at them. “Just hold on. I only want to talk to Ryder.”
“He can’t talk!” She screamed it.
Ryder was running fast now, and he overtook her. When he caught up to her, he grasped her hand. Together, they sprinted for the container, diving inside the dark metal box.
Only as she was getting to her feet did she realize that Ryder had been running upright on two legs—like a man. But she didn’t have time to dwell on that particular piece of information. She needed to get the door closed, get them safely inside.
She felt frantically around for a pulley or a lever or—
But Ryder stretched his body up and found the handle on the door. He pulled it down, just like a garage door.
The metal clanged closed.
Calla let out a breath. Safe.
Bang, bang, bang. Leroy was pounding on the door. “I only want to talk, Ryder. You were yelling for me. You know that we have things to settle.”
Calla scurried forward in the darkness, feeling around for a latch to lock the door in place.
“Let me in.” Leroy pounded louder.
There. The latch. She locked the door. It was good. They were safe now, closed off from him.
“Ryder!” yelled Leroy from outside.
Calla wanted to cry. She wanted to sob. But she just moved away from the door and huddled up against the cold, metal wall. She listened to her heart on its frenetic jag, and she didn’t try to quiet it. She was only glad that her heart was still beating.
“Open the door!”
Leroy kept it up for a long time. With every bang on the door, Calla winced. He kept yelling for Ryder, saying that he just wanted to talk, saying that Ryder had things to answer for.
Ryder himself crawled in a circle with his head down, whining. He didn’t seem to like the noise.
But finally—she wasn’t sure how much afterward, but it was a very long time—Leroy stopped. He seemed to give up, and he didn’t make any more noise. Calla stayed right where she was, of course. She wasn’t about to open the door. Leroy was probably still out there, and she didn’t want to take the chance. So, she stayed where she was.
Ryder continued to whine for a while. But eventually, he quieted too.
Sometime after that, she fell asleep. She dreamed that she was running through the woods and the man with the gu
n was chasing her. His eyes were glowing red, and he was going to shoot her because she wouldn’t let Ryder take off her clothes and put his mouth on her breasts—which were bare and flopping up and down on her chest as she ran. Soft, Ryder whispered, and she felt aroused and terrified all at the same time.
She awoke sweaty and frustrated to the sound of pounding on the door. “It’s Jasper. I’ve got breakfast.”
* * *
“I still don’t understand why you locked yourself up in there when I couldn’t force you in there last night,” Jasper was saying. He’d brought breakfast from a fast food restaurant, and he had half a breakfast sandwich in one hand.
Calla was eating another sandwich herself. She didn’t like taking things from Jasper, who seemed to think that feeding her meant that he wasn’t actually doing anything wrong. But she wasn’t about to turn down food, not just to make the point that she didn’t like what he was doing to her. “I told you. The man with the gun came back.”
“You’re just as loony as my brother, aren’t you?” said Jasper.
“I’m not loony,” she said. “The man was here. I even know his name. It’s Leroy, and he says that he and Ryder have something to settle. Do you know who this man is? He’s obviously got some history with your brother.”
Jasper made a face. “I’ve never heard of anyone named Leroy, and I don’t think Ryder has either.” He cocked his head to one side. “No, I know what it is. You’re not crazy. You’re making this up because you think it means I’ll let you go. If you’re in danger out here, then you think I’ll feel sorry for you and take you back home.”
She chewed on egg and cheese, feeling furious. She swallowed. “That would be nice, of course. I’d like to go home. But I’m not making this man up. And I am in danger. So is your brother, for that matter. He’s very brave, and he seems determined to protect me, but that doesn’t mean that he’s any match for a gun.”
“Lady, I’m onto you. Drop it.”
She ate her sandwich, fuming. “I suppose you’ll just come back here one day and find both Ryder and me dead then.”
He rolled his eyes.
But then another thought seized her. A terrifying one. She nearly choked on her sandwich, and she started to cough.
“Careful,” said Jasper.
Getting herself under control, she swallowed. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“What are you talking about?”
“If both of us were dead. Ryder’s a burden to you. And me? Well, you’re not going to let me go home, are you? I mean, I’ve seen your face, and I could go to the authorities and turn you in. So what are you going to do with me, anyway? If I was dead, it would be easier.”
Jasper furrowed his brow, as if none of that had ever occurred to him. “You’d turn me in to the authorities if I let you go?”
She backpedaled fast. “Of course I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do anything like that. I was saying that you must think that I would. But the truth is, I wouldn’t. I’d keep quiet for the rest of my life. I swear to God. Please, please, I didn’t mean for you to think…” Damn it.
Why did she let her mouth run faster than her head like that? She shouldn’t have said anything at all. She was beginning to feel like she’d just signed her death warrant.
Jasper was giving her a funny look.
“Don’t kill me,” she murmured. “Please, don’t.”
“I don’t make a habit of killing people,” he said.
“Well, you’re a werewolf.”
He glared at her. “We’re not all like the PSAs, you know. Those are bitten werewolves. They change without a pack structure, without an alpha to keep them in check. They’re the real wild wolves, even though they call genetic werewolves that.”
She didn’t really know what he was talking about. She’d never given much thought to whether or not wolves were born or made or anything. As far as she was concerned—werewolves were werewolves, and they were all dangerous. Still, the other day when Jasper had shifted, he hadn’t hurt her, so that was something.
She returned to her sandwich.
“I’m not a monster, okay?” said Jasper. “I just want to try to help my brother, that’s all.”
Ryder was lying next to them, on all fours again, like a dog, his legs tucked up next to him. He was eating his food with his mouth, not using his hands at all.
Jasper shook his head. “I keep feeling like maybe he’s getting better, but then I see him like this. I don’t know if what you’re doing is even working.”
“I told you I couldn’t—”
“Just keep trying, that’s all.”
“Well, what if nothing—”
“Keep trying.”
She popped the last bit of the sandwich into her mouth and crumpled the paper it had been encased in. She didn’t look at Jasper. “He was talking last night.”
“What?” said Jasper, looking at her sharply.
“That’s how I know the man’s name,” she said. “Right after he started talking, he said that he needed to take care of something, and then he went out of the tent and started yelling for Leroy.”
“The tent?” said Jasper. “What was he doing in the tent?”
Calla felt hot all over. She couldn’t admit all of that, could she?
“You’re making this up too, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” she said. “He started talking, and then he stopped. But he was almost… human. Like he was completely fixed.”
Jasper pointed at her, his expression fierce. “Don’t mess with me, lady. I might not be a monster, but I’m no saint either. If you try my patience…” He let the sentence trail off meaningfully.
She winced.
It was quiet.
Jasper got up. “All right, look, I’ve got some food for you two for the rest of the day today. It’s all in the cooler.” He gestured to it. “I won’t be able to come back until tomorrow morning, because I’m working the late shift at the carnival.”
“You’re leaving us alone for a whole twenty-four hours? But that Leroy man is—”
“Enough about that.” Jasper’s expression was enough to silence her.
* * *
After Jasper left, Calla spent hours with Ryder, trying to get him to talk.
At first, she tried to cajole him into speaking, kneeling down in front of him and speaking in a quiet, friendly voice. “Come on, Ryder. I know you can talk. Just give me a couple words, okay?”
But this approach produced no results whatsoever. Ryder just gave her quizzical looks. He didn’t say a word.
Then she decided to try something else. She’d get him to imitate her. She started with sounds—just going through the alphabet, trying to entice him to repeat after her.
But Ryder wouldn’t.
In fact, after she got to the letter D, and had been d-d-d-d-duh-ing in his face for several minutes, Ryder grabbed onto her and tried to kiss her.
Horrified, she pushed him away. “No, stop it, Ryder. I know that last night, I let things get… carried away, but that won’t happen again. Please don’t.”
She went back to trying to teach him sounds.
He wouldn’t practice the sounds, but he did try to kiss her several more times.
She rebuffed him every time, but she was beginning to become more and more aware of his body. He was such an attractive man, and she couldn’t help but admire his massive shoulders and the rippling muscles in his upper arms. He was a hulking man, so large that he made even a sturdy woman like her seem small next to him. She remembered the way it had felt to be underneath him last night, how the hard, male part of him had prodded her.
It made her feel uncomfortable. Her leggings started to seem overly tight in the crotch area. She tried to push thoughts of Ryder out of her head. She didn’t want to see him as a sexual being. He didn’t even have the brain power of an idiot. Wanting him sexually was like wanting a child. It was shameful, and she wouldn’t give in to it.
Still, he was so positively
luscious, wasn’t he?
And, of course, he would pick that time to try to kiss her again.
All of her emotions converged, and she mostly felt angry. She began to yell at Ryder, scream at him to leave her alone. She called him names—called him an idiot, called him a beast. She shoved him away. She kicked him.
Ryder, looking wounded and confused, retreated to the other side of the campsite and began to lick himself between his fingers.
The obvious animal activity only served to further infuriate her. She balled up her hands in fists. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you acting like an animal when I know you’re in there somewhere?”
Ryder only whined, ducking his head down, looking ashamed of himself.
Calla wanted to cry again. She felt as if her emotions were riding at a fever pitch these days, always heightened. She started to yell again, really scream something out.
But then she remembered Leroy.
He wasn’t gone for good. He was out there somewhere. She’d already been making quite a racket. Immediately, she went still and quiet. She turned in a circle, looking for some sign of him. What kind of an idiot was she? How could she have completely forgotten about Leroy and his threat? It was as if the conversation with Jasper had almost convinced her that she really was crazy. But Leroy was real, and she was frightened of him.
She chewed on her lip, wondering if she should lock herself back in the freight container, just to be safe.
Ryder seemed to have noticed the change in her demeanor. He came close and rubbed his face against her hand—again, like a dog.
This disgusted her. How could he be trying to kiss her one minute and then acting like Fido the next? He was giving her whiplash with the changes. One minute he was a man, then next an animal. She hated that.
She decided that it didn’t make sense to get inside the container again at this point. She’d be uncomfortable in there—it would be quite hot, in fact. If she needed to run there, the door was open. Otherwise, she’d stay put.
Midnight Moonlight Page 9
