Arthur, Keri - Beneath a Rising Moon.txt

by Beneath a Rising Moon (lit)

  ***

  Neva had barely taken three steps when Duncan

  appeared in the doorway. The moonlight gleamed off his

  skin and caressed his face, making him appear more like

  a dark angel than ever. His obsidian eyes were almost

  otherworldly.

  And so hot. So hungry.

  Her throat went dry, and she stopped. His gaze swept

  down her body, and he might as well have been caressing

  her with his hand, because every inch of her responded

  with heated delight.

  “What happened to the plate of food I requested?” Her

  voice came out little more than a husky whisper, and his

  eyes gleamed in response.

  “The buffet has been sitting there for a while. I thought

  something fresher would be better.”

  “A burger would be good right now.” And though she

  doubted he’d comply, at least the suggestion kept up the

  illusion that she was here unwillingly. If what he’d said to

  her at her parents’ place was any indication, he was

  suspicious about her reasons for being with him, and the

  more she did to waylay those suspicions, the more chance

  she’d have to snoop.

  His slow smile made her stomach flip-flop. “I had

  something more substantial in mind.”

  She let her gaze roam down the firm planes of his

  body until she came to the very visible evidence of his

  arousal under his jeans.

  “So I can see,” she murmured, and even as she said it,

  she wondered where her mind was. Playing games with

  this man was not a good idea.

  Not when his need blanketed the air, making it difficult

  to even breathe. Not when desire skated across her skin

  and it felt like her heart was going to race out of her chest.

  And she knew it wasn’t the moon’s influence, but the man

  himself. She might hate him, but the wolf within wanted

  him. Badly.

  But she didn’t dare give that part of herself complete

  freedom. Not here, and definitely not with Duncan. Once

  the murderer was caught and this moon phase was over,

  she had bridges to mend and a life to get back to. A life he

  had practically destroyed.

  “Why don’t we take this discussion somewhere a little

  warmer?” His voice was soft and sexy enough to melt

  chocolate.

  She nodded mutely. He touched a hand to her back,

  searing heat past her spine. A tremor ran through her.

  What was it about this man that got to her so badly?

  Surely it was more than just his experience and skill when

  it came to the art of lovemaking. Lord, she might be new

  to the mansion and its environs, but she wasn’t new to

  the dance itself. She’d had several mates over the years

  since puberty, but none of them had ever affected her this

  deeply. This quickly.

  There again, none of them had the reputation that

  Duncan had, either.

  He led her along the path and past several doors. The

  caress of music from the ballroom gradually died, and the

  only sound to be heard was the soft crunch of gravel under

  their shoes. The moon caressed the night with its silver

  light, and the heat of it raced through her veins, seeming

  to pool where his fingers pressed so lightly, so tenderly,

  against her back.

  He guided her through an arch, then opened a door

  and ushered her inside. Though the room was dark, her

  night sight was wolf keen. They were in what looked like a

  commercial kitchen, filled with stainless steel appliances

  and bench tops.

  “We’re raiding the kitchen?” she asked, amused.

  “Can you think of a better place to get fresh food?”

  “I guess not.”

  She pulled herself onto the bench and caught the loaf

  of bread he tossed her. He turned on a small light near

  the stove then continued on to the refrigerator, pulling

  out a platter of cold meats and a platter of fruit. Which

  was exactly what she’d wanted five minutes ago, but

  definitely not what she wanted right now. The thought

  sent a shiver across her skin. Being with this man, in this

  place, was dangerous. It made her hunger for things that

  just weren’t safe. Or sane.

  He placed the two platters on the table, then met her

  gaze. His dark eyes were shuttered, his face shadowed. If

  not for the hunger that burned through the night, she

  might have thought him immune to the moon fever and

  her.

  So why was he even with her? Especially when Betise

  was at the mansion? It didn’t make sense, particularly

  given the loathing she’d sensed in him earlier.

  Or was there more to the story than what Betise had

  said? Did Duncan celebrate the rising of the moon with

  casual partners because he had no other choice? Had she

  turned away from him rather than him her?

  She didn’t know, and she suspected he wouldn’t tell

  her if she asked.

  He pressed her knees open then stepped between her

  legs and pulled her close. Her breasts were lightly squashed

  against his chest, and she could feel the wild thumping of

  his heart. Could feel the heat radiating off his skin,

  surrounding her in a furnace that was desire.

  “Anything else you want?”

  His breath caressed her lips, and a tremor ran through

  her. “A knife to cut the bread would be good.”

  “And a soda?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t do anything else because

  her voice seemed to have fled.

  His mouth brushed hers, a tingling, tantalizing

  promise of what was to come, then he stepped back and

  returned to the refrigerator. “Ice?”

  Again she nodded. Within seconds, he was back with

  two drinks and a bread knife. He cut several slices of bread,

  offering one to her as he slid the meat platter closer. She

  made herself a sandwich and ate it, her skin tingling with

  awareness as his gaze did a slow tour of her body.

  She finished her drink and put the glass down on the

  bench. The remaining ice clinked softly, a sound that

  seemed to reverberate in the tense, overheated silence.

  Or maybe it was just she who was overheated.

  He stepped closer again. She instinctively inched back.

  A smile touched his sensual lips, and he reached out,

  gently running his fingers down her neck and across her

  shoulder, displacing the thin strap of her dress as he

  continued on down her arm.

  She swallowed, but it didn’t seem to help the dryness

  in her throat. Didn’t seem to help the dizzy tripping of her

  pulse. He was far too close. All she could smell was the

  earthy spice of him, all she could feel were his breath on

  her skin and the caress of his hand. And all she wanted

  was to feel him inside.

  It was crazy. Totally and utterly crazy. For seemingly

  no good reason, this man had, at the very least, forever

  altered her relationship with her parents. And while that

  might have happened eventually, it was a change she

  hadn’t been prepared to deal with jus
t yet. Especially when

  the man by her side was Duncan—a wolf so totally opposite

  to everything she wanted in a mate.

  But the moon was burning through her veins, and at

  this particular moment she didn’t care who he was or

  what he’d done. In all the years since puberty she’d never

  felt anything this strong. And that in itself was a scary

  thought. But maybe it was nothing more than a

  combination of the moon and being in the presence of a

  wolf well versed in the art of seduction.

  His fingers slipped back up her arm and across to her

  other shoulder. The second strap slid down her arm, and

  her breath caught as her dress shimmied to her waist.

  His gaze met hers, and in those dark depths she saw a

  desire so intense it made her squirm.

  “You feel hot,” he murmured, leaning forward to brush

  the line of her neck with feather soft kisses.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation. “It’s warm

  in the kitchen.”

  “Very warm. Perhaps we should try to cool you a little.”

  The glass clinked again, and she opened her eyes. “Ice

  is not a good idea.”

  He raised an eyebrow, a smile teasing his lips. “Really?”

  He ran his hand up her arm, the cube of ice trapped in his

  palm. The momentary chill of the ice was quickly lost to

  the heat of his touch, and the overall sensation was

  incredibly arousing.

  His hand reached her chest and moved down. She

  tensed, her breath catching in her throat. The cube

  skimmed one breast, then the other, and she gasped,

  jerking back from his touch. He chuckled, then his mouth

  enclosed on one hard nub, and she forgot the chill, forgot

  everything, and simply enjoyed as he sucked and nipped.

  When she was all but squirming with need, he

  continued on, past her breasts, down toward her stomach.

  The ice had become little more than droplets of water

  running past the heat of his fingers, quickly soaked up by

  the folds of her dress. But the silky material provided no

  barrier to his hand, and as his fingers slid into her moist

  heat, she groaned and leaned back, giving him greater

  access.

  “You want me, little wolf. Say it.”

  “No.” It was obvious that she wanted him, but she

  was never going to admit it. Because if she admitted that

  she’d have to admit just how badly he affected her. And

  that was one pleasure she refused to give him.

  “What harm is there in admitting you have needs like

  everyone else?”

  He continued to slide a finger through her moistness,

  every stroke providing just the right amount of pressure.

  Ripples of pleasure radiated across her body.

  “Great harm,” she somehow managed to croak, “when

  the man who asks seems intent on destroying my life.”

  “Freedom always has its price.” He leaned forward,

  nuzzling her ear, nipping lightly at her earlobe, all the

  while continuing his gentle, insistent stroking, sending

  her insane with need.

  “I didn’t come here to find freedom.” Did she say the

  words out loud or merely in her mind?

  His tongue skimmed her skin, trailing fire down to

  her breasts. When he flicked one aching nipple with that

  rough moistness, she shuddered and thrust toward him,

  wanting to feel more than just his tongue on her breasts.

  He chuckled softly and captured them in both his hands,

  lightly pushing them together. His gaze held hers as he

  ran his tongue from one aching nub to the other. She

  shuddered and shifted, not sure how much more sweet

  torment she could take.

  “What did you come here to find, then?” he said softly.

  You, she thought. Only he’d turned out to be a whole

  lot more dangerous than she’d ever imagined. “Not this.”

  “Then what?” He lightly nipped one nipple, then the

  other, and sweat prickled across her skin. Her heart was

  hammering so loudly its cadence seemed to fill the silence,

  and every muscle in her body was quivering. Aching. For

  him.

  “I was just curious. Nothing more, nothing less. I never

  meant for this to happen.”

  “You’re lying, little wolf.”

  And the fact that he sensed it was scary, because it

  meant he was reading her far better than she was reading

  him.

  “I’m not lying,” she said, almost desperately.

  He released her breasts, and his fingers slipped into

  her moistness again. She gasped, arching into his touch.

  “You will tell me the truth, you know. And before this

  night is over.”

  Mutely, she shook her head. His steady stroking was

  taking her higher and higher, until the need for him was

  so strong her whole body was shaking and she could barely

  even breathe.

  The sound of a zipper being pulled down was almost

  lost in the frantic beating of her heart. Anticipation raced

  through her.

  He pulled her closer, but nowhere near close enough.

  The quivering tip of him pressed against her moist heat,

  but went no further. His hands slid to her rear, cupping

  her lightly. The effort of control had him trembling, and

  she wondered what, exactly, he thought she was up to.

  Perhaps she should tell him why she was here. But if

  she did, she had no doubt he’d force her from the mansion.

  These murders fell under the category of pack business,

  and he’d already made it perfectly clear he had no intention

  of letting outsiders get involved in such matters—that

  included not only her, but the police as well.

  And if she told him, she’d have basically destroyed

  her life for no damn reason at all. At least by withholding

  the truth a little bit longer, she had a chance of discovering

  something—anything—that might give her a clue as to

  the murderer’s identity.

  She’d made her promise. She intended to stick to it.

  Though in many ways, she had no other choice now.

  His hands tightened on her rump, pulling her forward.

  His hardness slipped inside a little more, and it felt so

  good she moaned.

  “Tell me what you seek, Neva.” His words were harsh,

  his breathing heavy. He was punishing himself as much

  as he was her.

  She shook her head and knew she had to end this

  before the need for release overwhelmed common sense

  and loosened her tongue. She wrapped her legs around

  his waist and pulled herself forward, taking him deep

  inside.

  He groaned and began to move, his strokes quickly

  becoming fierce, hungry thrusts that shook her entire

  body. The sweet pressure built and built, until it felt as if

  she would explode with sheer pleasure.

  Then she did.

  “Oh moons, yes!” Her body bucked wildly against his.

  He came with her, his roar echoing across the silence, his

  body slamming hers so hard the whole bench seemed to

  shake.

  He caught her lips, kissing her fiercely as their orgasms<
br />
  ebbed and sanity returned. She opened her eyes and stared

  into his. For the briefest of moments, the shutters were

  opened, and in those black depths she saw compassion

  and surprise and warmth. It was almost easy to believe

  they were lovers who actually cared about each other, then

  the shutters slammed home and the cold stranger came

  back.

  But before either of them could say anything, a scream

  rent the silence.

  It was the scream of a woman in pain.

  Six

  For a heartbeat, Duncan didn’t react, too lost in the

  warm aftermath of loving Neva to really register what he

  was hearing.

  Until the scream came again. The voice sounded

  vaguely familiar, yet it brought no immediate images to

  mind. He stepped back from Neva and wondered who in

  hell was playing it a little too rough. He hoped it wasn’t

  René. “Stay here,” he said, fastening his jeans.

  “No.” She slipped off the bench and pulled up her dress.

  “Neva—”

  “No,” she repeated, her expression determined as her

  gaze met his. “I know the voice—I was talking to her just

  before we came here. I may be able to help.”

  He frowned. Given her reluctance to let anyone know

  she was here at the mansion, it was surprising that she’d

  risk talking to anyone. “Who?”

  “Betise.”

  She gave him a strange look as she said the name,

  and he wondered why. The voice might have sounded

  familiar, but the name certainly wasn’t. And while he had

  no desire to drag her into any pack business, she was

  right about one thing. If there was an hysterical female to

  deal with, she could be of some assistance. He had no

  doubt this was nothing more than a wolf playing the dance

  a little too hard, simply because it broke the well-

  established pattern set by the murderer. As another scream

  sounded, he grabbed her hand, and they raced out the

  door.

  The night air was glacial against his lust-heated skin,

  and the wind had sharpened. Overhead, the moon was

  lost to the gathering of thick, dark clouds. There would be

  a storm by morning. Part of him hoped it was one of those

  early spring monsters Ripple Creek was renowned for. At

  the very least, it would keep everyone indoors and the

  rangers away a bit longer, giving him the chance to find

  and deal with the monster behind the murders.