by Moira Rogers
She shivered and stretched out as close to the fire as she dared, using her leather pack as a pillow. A heartbeat later he crouched at her feet, his face half illuminated by the fire and half in mysterious shadows. “It’s going to get colder. Will you lie close to me?”
He was a bloodhound, not a human. She’d given him double rations from the pack because his body was built to work harder at everything—fighting, healing, even regulating temperature, so it was entirely possible he really would put off more heat than the fire.
She nodded. “Uh, where?”
He gestured to the space between her and the wall. “I can stretch out behind you.” With the fire burning cheerfully, she saw half of his teasing smile. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”
An answering smile curved her lips before she could stop it. “I could break your fingers. They’d heal, but it would still hurt like hell.”
He was handsome when he laughed, face unguarded, smile real. “You keep flirting with me, sweet girl, and I’ll think you don’t want me to keep my hands to myself.”
She was blushing again, and far too pleased with the fact that she’d made him smile. She turned away and punched at the pack until she’d molded it into a satisfactory shape. “Shut up and get some rest.”
“So sweet and demure.” Merrick stretched out behind her, and even though he wasn’t touching her, he was damn near as hot as the fire.
“Watch the name-calling,” she shot back—and Christ, her voice had gone husky. Inviting.
One hand settled at her hip. “If you aren’t careful, I’ll call you charming.”
Giving in to the heat his touch generated could spell disaster, but actually liking him would be even worse. “I’ll settle for that. Now sleep.”
“Not likely,” he muttered, just low enough that she imagined she wasn’t meant to hear it.
All she could do was close her eyes, let exhaustion claim her, and hope she wouldn’t dream of him.
Chapter Two
Three hours until dawn, and Merrick thought taking his own life might be a mercy.
All of Paralee’s intriguing sharp edges softened in sleep. It should have made her less appealing. Undoubtedly it was her fire that had first attracted him. The bits of memory that fell into place during the night gave him no better basis for his current situation.
Mating wasn’t supposed to happen. The Guild had never planned on it, that was for damn sure. Hadn’t been prepared for it, either, the first time it had happened. Ten years into the program, one of the first bloodhounds had fallen hard for a feisty little scrap who worked a border brothel. Reason vanished. Obedience fled. The besotted fool had broken rank to return to her for the new moon, and Merrick had been among those sent to retrieve him.
If a senior bloodhound no one dared to defy hadn’t been there to call off the guards, the mated hound might have torn the town down around them. The Guild had still drugged the poor bastard and hauled him back in chains, only to watch him waste away in a dingy cell. Other women couldn’t tempt him. He pined during the new moons, savaged himself and began to refuse food and water.
The scientists had been ready to keep him there, just to see if a broken heart could truly kill him. Merrick hadn’t been the only one who threatened to walk out that day, and the Guild had buckled under the threat of mutiny.
Easy to give in when they’d known they wouldn’t have to wait forever to get their answer. Life was hard on the border. The woman died eight years later, and the first bloodhound to take a mate followed his heart into the grave inside six months.
And now Merrick would be facing the same damn fate, if the sweet little thing curled around him decided she’d just as soon do without him.
She turned, her legs tangling with his as she murmured something unintelligible and breathed a soft sigh. He laid his hand on her hip, his fingers just short of the tempting curve of her ass.
To distract himself, he shifted to his back. Her head had slipped from her pack, so he lifted her gently and put her cheek on his shoulder. “Settle right in, sweet girl. Make yourself at home, hmm?”
Another murmur, and she clutched at his shirt. After a moment, her hand relaxed only to close tight again, kneading like a cat.
Much more of that, and his cock would be testing the seams on his trousers. He tightened his fingers around the back of her neck. “Paralee, sweetheart, maybe not that much at home.”
Her lashes fluttered, and she slowly opened her eyes. She blinked, focused on him and licked her lips. “Sorry,” she whispered, her pulse quickening as she rolled away to face the fire once more.
“Hey, you can snuggle right up to me, but I figured I ought to give you a chance to stop before you touched anything you’d regret.”
She laughed, sleepy but wry. “Better to keep to myself. Safer.”
Maybe he shouldn’t have woken her. “You’re not even curious enough to steal a kiss while I’m all helpless and sleepy here?”
Her breathing hitched. “That’s about ten leagues from fair, especially when you know I couldn’t call your bluff even if I wanted to.”
He didn’t know any such thing. “You don’t like kissing?”
She sat up and twisted to peer down at him. “It’s about more than taking care of me, right? Being mated. You need me.”
Faced with a woman with sex in her eyes and heat in her blood, he did the only thing he could do—he lied through his teeth. “I want you, that’s the damn truth. But I’ll make it through the night even if you don’t climb onto my dick.”
“I didn’t say want.” Paralee leaned over him. Her heavy braid slipped off her shoulder, and the curled ends tickled his neck. “I said need.”
He wanted to tangle that braid around his hand and kiss her until she didn’t have enough air left to poke at him. “Some might call it such, yes.”
“Well, that’s what makes it unfair.” She huffed in exasperation. “I can’t kiss you because I’m not about to start something that every instinct in you will demand we finish. I’m not that cruel.”
She was worried about him, whether she wanted to admit it or not. Maybe feeling a little soft on him, and he was bastard enough to take advantage of it. “That’s where you’re wrong, sweet girl. I don’t need sex. I just need you. Cuddling, kissing… Anything’s better than nothing.”
Her exasperation melted into puzzlement—but also interest. She brushed her thumb over his lower lip and met his gaze, then bent and pressed her mouth to his.
He’d been less aroused at the bottom of a pile of naked women, and it wasn’t even a dirty kiss. It was slow and soft, his hissing cat melting into a warm armful of purring woman.
She wasn’t the only one purring. The damned beast inside him might as well have bared its belly in submission, all of its usual violence and impatience leashed in favor of enjoying the sweet, nervous taste of her.
Her lips parted as she tilted her head, continuing her exploration. She flicked her tongue over his, a quick gesture followed by a slow, sinuous return, and Merrick’s control snapped. He tried to sink his fingers into her dark hair and snarled when the braid foiled him.
In a heartbeat he switched their positions, rolling her to her back with his hand protecting her head from the hard stone. He slanted his mouth over hers and licked at her lips, savored her taste before driving deeper.
She tugged at his hair, and the gentle pressure of her fingernails drifted down his back. A low whimper vibrated against his tongue, and one of her hands slipped under the hem of his shirt to stroke his skin.
No, he’d never had her before. It would have taken more than a cracked skull for him to forget the warning press of her nails, the taste of her mouth, and most of all the sexy, hungry little noise she made when he teased the tip of his tongue across hers. He’d never kissed her before, and if he didn’t stop now he’d be fucking her on the cold, dirty stone beneath them.
A fine way to seduce the woman who held her life in his hands. Groaning, he jerked away and rolled
to his back. “Damn.”
Paralee lay there panting, but instead of slowing, her breathing began to hitch in odd little gasps and starts.
The damn woman was laughing at him.
Merrick growled and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m glad I amuse you.”
Her laughter subsided into giggles. “Cuddling may be better than nothing, but it sure the hell can’t hold a candle to that.” She propped herself up on one elbow and grinned at him. “You’re a liar, Merrick Wood, and now I’m wondering why.”
Because ego and pride wouldn’t let him put his life on her shoulders. No woman should be backed into that corner. “Maybe I’m just as confused as you, sweet girl. This is my first time being mated.”
“Oh.” She sobered. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you. That’s—I wouldn’t do that.”
“Yes, you would,” he grumbled. “You’re a fierce, merciless little thing, and I wager I wouldn’t find you half so interesting if you didn’t love to poke a man’s ego now and again.”
“Flattering, but untrue.” She brushed a lock of hair away from his forehead and bit her lip to hide a smile. “I’m not merciless.”
“No?” This was torture. Like filling his hand with grain and waiting patiently for a wild creature to trust him enough to eat from his palm. But patience had its rewards…like that pretty smile. “Tell me what you are then, love.”
She hesitated before bending to drop a kiss to his cheek. “Sleepy. Good night, Merrick.”
Moving silently, he stretched out his arm in invitation. She nestled her head against his shoulder, her eyes closed and her body relaxed, and settled into his embrace.
In a telling twist, her easy trust doused the sharpest edge of arousal. Not that desire had been extinguished—no, he still felt every inch of that soft body pressed against him—but need didn’t savage him. Not in the way she’d obviously expected.
Not in the way it should have.
This was the warm satisfaction that made a mate worth having. The comfort of having her sleep in your arms, unafraid, the pleasure in knowing she was safe and protected. This was the heady addiction to the sort of peace a bloodhound couldn’t normally expect from life.
And why the withdrawal would likely kill him.
#
The cold woke her. Paralee opened her eyes to the sight of Merrick by the ashen fire, stirring up the last remaining coals. “Good morning,” she croaked.
He smiled and nodded to a canteen at her elbow. “I filled that with fresh water.”
“Thanks.” It was impossible not to stare as she watched him, so she sat up and busied herself with the canteen.
By the time she’d drained half of it, he’d rekindled the fire and was sifting through the meager trail supplies she’d managed to salvage. “We need to reach higher ground today,” he said as he held out a bit of dried jerky. “If I can take a good look around, get my bearings, there are some old Guild way stations in these mountains. Some might still be well stocked enough.”
She’d assumed the plan would be to haul ass east as fast as they could. If not… “You think there’s a lot of ghoul activity in this area?”
“Most likely.” He jerked his head toward the entrance to the cave. “Sun’s not up over the hills yet, but once it got lighter, I took a walk around this cave. Found some tracks that are probably a few days old. Ghoul, I reckon, or a drunk human.”
He left unspoken the obvious truth that a human, drunk or no, had no place wandering around the countryside. So they’d have to be careful, move more slowly—and possibly not make it out of the Deadlands until after the new moon. “Merrick?” she asked softly.
“Don’t make any offers you aren’t sure you mean,” he said gruffly, not looking at her. “Wouldn’t do a lick of good in any case. If you don’t want me more than breathing, what’s inside me isn’t going to hurt its mate by taking her against her wishes.”
She couldn’t offer anything, then, could she? Beyond a dreamless night in his arms and one blistering kiss, she didn’t even know him. Her gut told her to trust him, but how much? Where did that end?
Instead of offering empty promises, Paralee changed the subject. “We should make another pass through the wreckage. It won’t be pleasant, but I must have overlooked a lot last night in the darkness and my haste.”
His jaw tightened, and he stared at the tack in his hand for a moment. “I wish I could say we have time to properly see to the dead, but it could mean the difference between living and dying ourselves.”
He spoke as though he was trying to prepare her, and she remembered then what he’d said—I’m fully capable of losing my good sense if you get hurt. Perhaps it extended beyond the realm of the physical, the protectiveness he felt.
She rose and cleared her throat. “It might be better, all things considered, if you conduct the search alone. I’d just as soon not see it again.”
From the surprise in his gaze, he knew how much of a concession she’d made—and hadn’t been expecting it. A slow smile curved his lips as he glanced away. “Might be better,” he agreed. “As long as I don’t have to stray too far from you. You could wait on the other side of the hill from the crash, maybe?”
“I’ll find a place.” She brushed past him. “I’m going down to the creek to wash up.”
He caught her hand, tugging her back to brush a kiss over her knuckles. “Thank you.”
More than anything, the tenderness threw her off balance. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m not through making your life hell, not by half.”
“Mmm.” He grinned at her. “Don’t take too long.”
Paralee squinted against the early morning sun as she made her way out of the cave. The rays lit the valley below, illuminating the still, cold wreckage of the Siren.
She turned away. The path leading down from the mouth of the cave was tricky to navigate, a surprise since all she could remember of the night before was Merrick, half-dragging her up the slope.
When she reached the creek, she saw the sign he’d described, the wobbly tracks scraped out of the hard-packed earth. No normal steps, and no animal, either. Whatever had come by had dragged its feet in an uneven gait.
She shivered and knelt on the bank. She washed quickly, splashing cold water heedlessly on her face and neck. It soaked her shirt, and another tremor shook her. No matter. They’d be moving, and the day would warm quickly enough.
Soon, Merrick’s footsteps sounded behind her. “I packed up.”
He carried everything so easily, as if it weighed nothing, but she gestured to the heavy pack anyway. “I can take that.”
“It won’t wear me down as quickly.” He held out a hand to haul her up. “You’ll have your own load to carry soon enough, love. Enjoy the freedom.”
She retrieved her utility belt from where he’d draped it through one strap of the pack and buckled it around her waist. “Lucius kept rations and a cache of weapons in the hold.”
“Could do well with more of both.” He started toward the trail, and this time his steps were silent, as if he’d purposefully made noise when approaching before. “The Guild station I remember was built within a stone’s throw of the river, and might even have a boat. If nothing else, supplies enough to build our own.”
She followed him. “Traveling the river would be easier than hoofing it. Safer too.”
“Not to mention faster. If we’re where I think we are, we can make the station in time for the new moon.”
There appeared to be no question in his mind that they’d still be on the trail when the moon went dark. “You told me not to make any offers I didn’t mean, but I wanted to tell you…that isn’t the problem. I’m plenty attracted to you. It’s just that… Well, I’ve never.”
His foot came down crooked, and rocks skittered from under his boot as he caught his balance. “You’ve never…?”
Too late, she realized what she’d said. “No! Shit, I mean not with a bloodhound. I’m not a virgin.”
“Thank t
he Lord,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t be right, thinking these sorts of things about a sweet little virgin.”
Damn her blush, anyway. “Like it would stop you.”
He snorted. “Virgins aren’t nearly as fun as women who know what they like and ain’t afraid to ask for it.”
Paralee knew what she liked. Hell, he’d done half of it last night, and he’d barely even touched her. “I’m not frightened or ashamed of my sexuality,” she agreed. “That doesn’t mean I have the slightest clue what fucking a bloodhound during the new moon entails.”
Merrick picked a path around a pile of knee-high boulders before replying. “Pleasure, mostly. Trust. For a hound, it’s about making a woman need him as hard as he needs her.”
Hard to imagine, when that need was otherworldly to begin with. “They call it penance for all a hound’s murderous violence and rage.”
“I imagine they do.” His mouth twitched, and she wasn’t sure if he was fighting a laugh or a scowl. “Giving a bit of pleasure’s never caused me grief, so it’s a penance I’ll accept.”
“It likely just makes you—” They’d crested the last rise before the descent into the valley, and Paralee stopped. “I’ll wait up here.”
He fell silent, his gaze sweeping over the wreckage. After a moment, he lifted the pack from his shoulder and held it out to her. “I’ll move quicker without it.”
“I’ll be fine.”
She watched him until the striped pattern of his shirt blurred into a solid dark brown, then turned her attention beyond, to the broken ship. She’d practically lived on it, so it should have felt more like a home. But Lucius Hammersmith had taken great pains to make sure she knew he was the boss of the Siren, and had often exhorted Paralee not to forget it.
All in all, a waste of a perfectly good ship.
She paced, rounding the eastern edge of the ridge as he picked through the wreckage. He stooped, retrieving and discarding items, and occasionally glancing back toward her.
A sudden thought seized her, and she groaned. “Damn it.” She should have told Merrick to grab the money stashed in the cockpit. It was more than enough to cover the repairs to her own ship, and it wasn’t as if Lucius needed it any longer. It could mean the difference between flying again and being stuck on the ground.
