Crave the Moon

by Lori Handeland

  He sounded just like the old Jase, and then again he didn’t. The old Jase would never have said anything so sappy. Of course the old Jase had always been her friend, with not a hint of anything more.

  But the new Jase, the one who’d kissed her—still uck by the way—would not have said that, either, because she couldn’t see him staying on and watching her and Teo together.

  And they would be together. She could no longer imagine a life with the two of them apart.

  What a mess. However, it was a mess she would deal with later.

  If they survived.

  However, things were looking up. On horses they’d reach town long before dusk, and in town there’d be plenty of guns, plenty of silver. She couldn’t believe the Nahual had knocked out the phones, destroyed everything with a motor, and left the—

  A series of small explosions—BB gun? Fireworks? Popcorn machine?—erupted in the barn. Then every last horse thundered out the open doors and disappeared over the ridge.

  “That’s not good,” Jase murmured.

  Gina ran after them. Why she had no idea. The cloud of dust on the horizon was still moving. She’d be lucky if the horses stopped running before they reached the ocean. She certainly had no prayer of catching them.

  She crested the ridge just as the herd split, continuing on in half a dozen different directions. Bending, she clasped her knees and gasped for breath, then glanced over her shoulder.

  Jase sat on the ground about twenty feet behind her, left boot off, rubbing his ankle.

  Great.

  Isaac stepped onto the porch, gun in hand. The others were visible in the hall behind him. Gina was surprised everyone hadn’t spilled out of the house as soon as they heard the pops followed by the thunder of hooves.

  Gina walked back to Jase.

  “I stepped in a hole,” he muttered, disgusted.

  “Broke?” she asked.

  “Nah.” Jase shoved his foot into his boot and clambered to his feet, but when he crossed to the barn he limped. Could anything else go wrong?

  Gina followed, keeping an eye peeled for holes. They stood shoulder to shoulder staring at the wide-open, empty stalls.

  “When I was in here every horse was where it belonged; every stall was secure,” Jase said. “I swear.”

  Gina cast him a quick glance. “I never thought otherwise.”

  “It’s just…” He waved a hand at all the empty stalls. “How did that happen?”

  “Same way the cell phones became crap, I imagine.”

  “Magic released the horses?”

  “You got a better explanation?”

  “I don’t know if we need to explain it. But we do need to survive it.”

  “That’s not going to be easy. We’re stuck here with one rifle and a handful of silver bullets. And it appears that thing can get into the house.”

  “If he got inside, why didn’t he make all of us furry at once?”

  “Maybe he only has enough juice to do one person at a time.” Teo had said that the Nahual gained power by killing.

  “Maybe,” Jase agreed.

  They turned to stare at the distant puffs of dust that marked the stampeding horses.

  “Any idea what set them off?” Gina asked.

  “None,” Jase answered. “I suppose we should look.”

  They searched the barn from top to bottom. Neither one of them found anything that could have caused the loud pops.

  On any other day, the horses might drift back by nightfall. But with wolves all over the place—

  Gina winced. She hoped the horses had kept running until they reached the ocean. That might be the only way they’d survive.

  “What are we going to do, Jase?”

  “Stay inside tonight. I’ll jog into town after sunrise tomorrow.”

  “On that ankle?”

  “Someone’s gotta.”

  “Not you.” In fact, not anyone. That idea had trap written all over it. She had the feeling the Nahual was just waiting for someone to get too far away from a silver bullet–filled gun.

  “Besides,” she said. “Edward is coming.”

  “That old friend of Granddad’s from the war?” Jase snorted. “So what?”

  “He’s some sort of monster hunter.”

  “Really?” Jase glanced at Isaac, who still stood on the porch with his gun. “Interesting.”

  * * *

  With a little help from Jack Daniel’s, Matt managed to calm down Melda. The old woman fell asleep on the couch holding the bottle.

  Now that the As were—Matt glanced at the smoldering pile of ashes in the hall—gone, the hysteria, as well as the noise, level had taken a good-sized hit.

  Fanny moved about the house, checking for wolfsbane at every entrance with an attention to detail that Matt would have found reassuring if he didn’t suspect that the biggest, baddest monster of all had the ability to slip through anyway.

  Derek stood at the window staring at the place where the werewolves had been, murmuring, “Worgens need to be skinned.”

  When Matt lifted his brows in Tim’s direction, the man said, “Cataclysm.”

  “I’d say so,” Matt agreed.

  “World of Warcraft,” Tim clarified. “Video game.”

  “The Worgens are human and wolf,” Derek explained. “They were cursed to shape-shift by night elves. But becoming horrible humanoid wolves destroyed their minds. They ran mad and were confined to prison in another dimension. But they were released.”

  “How?” Matt asked, intrigued.

  “No one’s really sure. I heard that in the newest version of WOW they show some of the background of the Worgens. They can be trapped by a circle of blood. Since those things fight to the death and they’re pretty hard to kill—you gotta skin them—being able to trap them would be nice.” Derek frowned. “Of course you’re gonna have to collect enough blood to make that circle. Which means—”

  Matt held up a hand. He didn’t want to know how the kid, even in a game, would gather sufficient blood to encircle a Worgen.

  “Nice game,” Matt said.

  “You should see some of the other ones,” Tim muttered, earning a dirty look from his son.

  Isaac turned up with a shovel and began to scoop Amberleigh into a big black garbage bag. It wasn’t easy, considering the goopy texture of what was left.

  Though Matt would have preferred to do pretty much anything else—well not anything; he didn’t ever want to see Gina falling down the steps with a werewolf on her heels, and he could probably live without seeing a skinned Worgen—Matt left Melda on the couch and went to help.

  Night fell. The wolves came back. There were a lot more of them now.

  “Go to bed.” Isaac stood in the doorway of the living room, where Jase, Gina, and Matt stared out at the werewolves that stared in. Isaac had been napping most of the afternoon and appeared as fresh and rested as an eighty-year-old man who’d spent a lifetime in the sun and wind could. He reached for the gun, and Jase handed it over. “No reason more than one of us should have to watch that all night.”

  “I’ll stay,” Matt said.

  Isaac waved him off. “I’ve never slept more than four hours at a stretch in my life. Now that I’ve wasted the afternoon, I’m gonna be wide-eyed until tomorrow.”

  Matt glanced at Gina and saw that she was as uneasy about this as he was.

  “I don’t think anyone should be alone,” Gina said. “What if the smoke comes?”

  “If the smoke comes, girl, there ain’t nothin’ anyone’s gonna be able to do about it.”

  He was right. Still—

  “I’ll stay,” Jase muttered. “Just—” His gaze flicked first to Gina, then to Matt, and his eyes went cool and hard. “Go.”

  Matt understood the underlying text. Jase wanted him to go directly outside and walk straight into the jaws of the undeath waiting in the yard.

  Right back atcha, pal, Matt thought.

  “I’ll come down in a few hours and spell you,
” Matt said, then left the room before anyone could argue.

  Jase hadn’t slept, and even though Matt didn’t want to do the guy any favors, he didn’t think an exhausted watchman was any kind of watchman. Matt also agreed that no one should be alone.

  Earlier, Gina had coaxed Melda to rest in Fanny’s room off the kitchen, which still sported twin beds from when Jase had lived with her there as a child. So the two women would pass the night together.

  The Gordons had gone to their room at least an hour ago, though neither one of them had appeared tired. Nevertheless, staring at werewolves got old fast, especially when you were used to them attacking you with a sword.

  Matt stopped at Gina’s door to say good night, but she surprised him by clasping his hand and drawing him inside.

  “I should—” He turned, and she slammed the door, spun the lock.

  “Yes.” She put her arms around his neck. “You definitely should.”

  “Gina, I was going to—”

  She lifted a brow. “We aren’t supposed to be alone, remember?” She pressed her body to his. “Everyone’s paired up. You’re the only one left to be my—” She leaned closer and licked his earlobe before whispering, “Buddy.”

  He’d planned to catch a few hours of sleep before going back downstairs—hadn’t he just decided that an exhausted watchman was a useless watchman?—but the instant she touched him …

  Matt was done for.

  CHAPTER 23

  They needed to sleep—now before someone started to scream.

  But Gina also needed Teo. How could she sleep without feeling his arms around her, without experiencing again the slide of his skin against hers?

  She drew his mouth slowly downward until their lips brushed together. Just a hint, a wisp of a touch, before she flicked out her tongue and tasted.

  His breath caught, the movement rubbing his chest against her breasts. The slight friction made her deepen the kiss welcoming him within.

  Somehow her hands had gone beneath his shirt, her thumbs stroking his back, along his hips, and then across his belly, chasing the flutters of muscles beneath skin. She wanted to feel those flutters with her lips, trace them with her tongue.

  So she did.

  She tugged up his shirt as she slid to the floor, leaving a damp trail across his belly as she went. He got the message, tossing the garment aside, leaving plenty of skin for her to taste.

  Her teeth grazed the spike of his hip; she ran her tongue just below his waistband. “Gina,” he groaned.

  “Shh,” she whispered, and licked his tip.

  He cursed, reaching down and yanking her up by the elbows, devouring her mouth, her neck, her breasts through the cotton of her shirt. The added friction of the cloth between his mouth and her flesh caused her to arch against him, pressing their lower bodies together.

  Once again, any hopes they might have had about going slow disappeared as fast as the rest of their clothes. They fell onto the bed; Gina landed on top, mouth searching, hands seeking.

  She grasped him in her palm, squeezing, kneading, running her thumb over and back, over and back, waiting for that catch in his breath, the slight swell against her hand before she guided him inside.

  Only a few pumps of her hips and he came, then she did, whispering encouragements and endearments, nonsense that only they understood.

  When it was over and their pulses had slowed, their skin had cooled, and they lay tangled together beneath the sheets, Gina took his hand. She’d have been content to fall asleep like that, nearly had, when the howl of a wolf, sharp, loud, and seemingly furious, jerked them awake.

  Outside the moon shone down, silver and cool, as remote and uncaring as that wolf.

  “Are we going to survive this?” Gina whispered.

  Teo pressed his lips to her hair. “I don’t know.”

  She leaned back. “You couldn’t lie to me?”

  His eyes, stark, honest, unfettered by his glasses, peered steadily into hers. “I won’t ever lie to you again.”

  With that reassurance, along with the warm, solid length of him, the sure, steady beat of his heart, Gina slept. She hoped she’d never have to sleep without him again.

  But when she woke and reached for him the bed was empty, the space where Teo should have been gone cold. For an instant she wondered if everything had been a dream. Not only Teo Mecate but also the cavern, the werewolves, the Nahual, and the string of deaths.

  She wasn’t sure if she hoped it was or that it wasn’t. Because even though Gina would prefer not to have an evil shape-shifting sorcerer roaming the ranch, she also didn’t want to discover that the first man she’d ever loved was no more solid than the smoke that had started this mess.

  Gina shoved her hair from her face, her feet already swinging to the floor when she remembered.

  Teo had promised to take a turn on werewolf watch.

  She should feel bad about keeping him up. Although really—her lips curved—he’d been “up” the instant she touched him.

  She ran a palm over her hip, shivering at the memory of their lovemaking. Sex had never been a big thing for her. She could have taken it or left it, and most of the time she’d left it. But now …

  She couldn’t get enough. And it wasn’t the sex; it was Teo. Being close to him gave her strength. Feeling one with someone else gave her courage. She had to believe they would both survive this, because the alternative was too horrific to contemplate.

  A life without Teo Mecate was not a life she wanted to live.

  Gina flicked a glance out the window. She was already turning away, preparing to climb back into bed, where the scent of Teo on the pillow would bring back the memory of his touch and the interlude they’d just shared, when what she’d seen registered.

  There wasn’t a single wolf in the yard.

  Her bare skin prickled as gooseflesh raced from head to toe. She snatched up clothes, threw them on, hopped across the floor toward the door shoving her feet into her boots as she went, then flew down the stairs and burst into the living room.

  “This is bad,” she whispered as her gaze scanned empty space.

  Isaac’s rifle leaned against the chair he’d been sitting in. Gina checked the weapon. Plenty of ammo left, so she took it along while she searched the house.

  The front door was closed; the back door, too. Not that a closed door seemed to do a damn bit of good. But there weren’t any bodies lying about. No growls trailed from darkened corners. No rabid wolf with Teo’s eyes burst from behind the couch.

  But the night was young.

  Gina glanced at the eastern horizon. Make that old. Though the sky was still navy blue, the clock indicated the sun would soon be up. Had the Nahual really left them alone all night? She didn’t think so.

  She was just about to check every room in the house—the men had to be somewhere close by—when a long, low howl rose from outside.

  Giii-naaa!

  At the very edge of the yard, where tamed became untamed, sat a single black wolf. The dying moon sparked off his eyes, making it impossible to tell if the beast was someone she knew, someone she loved. Her fingers tightened on the weapon. What if that was Teo? Could she kill him? She didn’t know.

  Come to me.

  Gina’s eyes widened. The wolf hadn’t moved, hadn’t even opened his mouth. So how had she heard those words?

  Maybe she was dreaming. In all of the years she’d heard her name on the wind, she’d never heard anything but that.

  Come to me now, and I will spare the rest.

  Gina glanced over her shoulder, but no one was there. Did she want them to be? No. Because if anyone appeared, they’d talk her out of going. And she had to. If there was any chance to save the rest she would take it. But could she trust that thing?

  No.

  Did it matter?

  Gina sighed. No.

  Last chance.

  The wolf rose to his feet, then disappeared into the scrub. The brush shivered as he moved inexorably onward. If
she didn’t hurry, the beast would soon be gone.

  She couldn’t; she shouldn’t.

  Gina crossed to the front door and did.

  * * *

  She brought the gun. The voice hadn’t said she couldn’t.

  Which only meant the gun would be useless against the thing. But they’d already figured that out.

  Bullets couldn’t penetrate smoke.

  Except the wolf in front of her wasn’t smoke. From the way his body cut through the bushes and grass, he was as solid as she was.

  So maybe this wolf was just the tour guide wolf. The Nahual was …

  Gina glanced at the lighter blue sky where the clouds resembled smoke. Was he up there following them? She’d heard no more whispers. Then again, she was doing what he wanted. No reason to say anything else at all.

  They moved through an unfamiliar area of the ranch. Several large rock formations were surrounded by low cacti, making it difficult for horses and people to navigate. Gina was tired and hot and scared. When her boot slipped on a rock and she nearly fell, Gina snapped, “Why me?”

  The question had been rhetorical. A whiny thing people said. But the wolf whirled, lip lifted in a snarl as he started toward her. Startled, Gina brought up the gun and fired.

  She was certain she’d hit the thing; she’d been too close not to. However instead of flames, howls, and death, the wolf snorted and rolled all-too-familiar eyes.

  “Oh no,” Gina whispered. “No.”

  The sun burst over the horizon, and the beast changed.

  Bones crackled; joints popped; the fur seemed to be sucked within. The snout withdrew, separating into mouth and nose; the fangs became teeth, the claws nails. Several minutes later, Jase McCord rose from four legs to two. The bullet Gina had put into his chest tumbled to the ground.

  “Why you?” he repeated. “Because all I’ve ever wanted is you.”

  He was naked, and she wasn’t even freaked. Of course, watching someone you love turn from wolf to man makes dangling private parts the least of your worries.

  “But you … it … he—” Gina took a breath. “What the hell, Jase? When were you bitten?”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “That’s impossible.”