by Moira Rogers
“Of course.” She lifted her head to meet his eyes, her own narrowed in confusion. “Are you…?” She paused. Blinked. Understanding softened her features. “You’ve been very careful with me.”
“I’ve been out of my head.”
“I know.” She eased upright without pulling her wrist from his grip, settling against his side with her legs tucked under her. “You were more unrestrained on the first day. Then…” Another of those pauses, and this time the silence seemed heavy. Tense. “How much do you remember?” she asked finally.
Nothing. He opened his mouth to say it, and he realized there was something he remembered.
Blood.
He shot upright, almost spilling her from the bed in his panic. “What did I do to you? Tell me, Grace—the truth.”
“Nothing!” The sheets slipped away as she rose to her knees, and she reached out to frame his face. “Vampires tunneled into the cellar. You tore them apart, and afterwards you were different. But you didn’t hurt me.”
“Vampires.” Flashes of memory rocked him, and yes, it made sense. He could remember them falling under his claws, and the rage—
Dear God, the rage. And Grace had seen it all, a witness to his violence in a time when he should have been bringing her pleasure.
“Yes.” She stroked his cheeks, her worried gaze roaming his face. “You didn’t hurt me. You were so very, very careful with me. A bit possessive and controlling.” Her smile begged him to smile too. “You managed to make that appealing.”
He’d protected her, and she hadn’t spent the last three days terrified of him. It soothed his anxiety, and he reached for her. “You’re not scared.”
She went into his arms willingly. “Not of you. Never of you.”
Those soft lips beckoned, and he slanted his mouth over hers. His hunger still burned, but for this more than anything—the taste of her, the sensation of her melting into his embrace.
Her teeth grazed his lower lip, then returned in a teasing nip. Not as cautious or uncertain as the way she’d kissed him a few days ago, but her body still pressed against his, soft and warm and so very willing.
Archer rolled her to her back and pinned her hands by her head. “How early is it?”
“Before dawn, I imagine.” She wiggled her fingers with a laugh. “This is what you spent the past day doing to me, by the way. Pinning me down so you can tease me for hours. Is that a new fascination?”
“Yes.” He’d certainly never been interested in it before.
“Truly?” When she tilted her head back, the electric lantern next to the bed illuminated the bite marks on her neck. “I admit, it’s becoming a fascination of mine as well.”
But would the fascination remain? Archer was beginning to suspect his attachment to Grace was anything but situational. If she’d wandered into Iron Creek, he’d have chased her until Wilder snatched him back by the scruff of the neck—and even that might not have dissuaded him for long.
Her smile softened. “You’re doing it again.”
“Doing what?”
“The impossible. Watching me as if you see through me and still see someone worth watching.”
Of course he did, but the words sparked a question. “What do you see when you look at me?”
She didn’t hesitate. “My lover.”
He cupped her cheek. “Do you want me to be?”
Grace closed her eyes and turned her face into his hand, her body suddenly still beneath his. “When this is over you’ll still be a hero and I’ll still be a liar. I’m selfish to want you at all, much less forever.”
He’d been a liar since before she was born. “Trust me, sweetheart, the heroics are recent—and more limited than you know. I could have taught you a thing or two about lies, but I’m through with that. Are you?”
“I’m ready to be.” She pressed a kiss to his palm before meeting his eyes, her own haunted. “But your crimes are paid for and forgiven. I can’t set foot east of the Mississippi without worrying that Clyde Howland and his gang will find me. I don’t have a place in this world that isn’t built on lies, except this moment in this bed.”
Lies didn’t matter, because the truth was that he’d never met a woman as strong or resourceful, a woman who could get through anything. “Then I’ll have to make this moment particularly special.”
“You don’t have to try.” She lifted her free hand and touched his temple before stroking her fingers through his hair. “Do bloodhounds ever get to settle down?”
“Not as such. Most have women, but it’s not the best life a man can offer.”
Her hand stilled. “Were you offering, when you asked if I want you to be my lover?”
“I…” It seemed selfish now that he’d described the arrangement in such unflattering terms. “Like I said, it’s not the best life.”
Her eyes were too bright in the uncertain light. “But we still have this moment.”
By now, his body knew what to do even if it would take him days to remember. It knew where to kiss, where to lick. How and when to alternate soft caresses with firm strokes.
Archer cupped her breast and teased his tongue over her nipple. “This moment? Or…this one?” He slipped his other hand between her thighs.
“All of them.” She shuddered and clutched at the back of his head, holding his mouth to her breast. “I have so many memories. Which one do you want?”
He pressed the edge of his teeth against her rigid flesh. “The best.”
“The first night.” Her voice had become flatteringly breathless, even as she shifted restlessly under his touch. “You made me beg, made me come so many times I couldn’t remember my own name. And then you put me on my knees and fucked me so hard, so raw. No masks, no lies. Just wanting.”
Desire. He’d been surprised to find his own mirrored in her. “I do want you. I haven’t stopped.”
She arched with a moan and tugged at his hair, trying to pull his mouth toward her other breast. “Tell me something true. Tell me a secret no one else knows.”
He had only one secret left, and what shocked him most was that he wanted to share it—with her. Still, the words left him in a whisper against her skin. “Paul. My name.”
“Paul.” Another tug, and she pulled him up until she could meet his gaze. After one silent moment she kissed him, open-mouthed and desperate. Underneath him her legs eased apart, hips pushing toward his hand in silent pleading.
That quickly, mad hunger loomed again. Archer locked it away and focused on Grace. He traced two fingers over her folds before teasing them just inside her cunt.
She moaned and bit his lower lip in quiet warning. “Are you going slowly and gently because you want to, or because you think you have to?”
It might be the last time. “I’m too contrary to fuck you slow just because it’s what I’m supposed to do, honey.”
Her breath caught, body tensing as he found one of the sensitive spots he knew without remembering how. She tilted her head back against the bed with another moaning noise. “So you must be doing it because you take perverse pleasure in forcing me to beg.”
“I take pleasure in you.” A little deeper, and he rocked his hand against her.
“In stripping me bare.” She bit his earlobe and tickled his skin with her husky laugh. “You’re still breaking into safes with your clever fingers.”
Heat shivered up his spine at the prospect of her orgasm, of feeling her squeeze tight around his fingers, his cock. “All it takes is a careful touch.”
“And patience.” Every time he rocked his hand, her nails dug into his shoulder, her clutching fingers as sure a sign of her rising arousal as the flush in her cheeks. She was squirming now, hips pushing up in furtive thrusts, as if she could force him to go faster. “How are you so patient?”
There she went again, mistaking determination for patience. He kept the same pace but stilled her hips so she couldn’t push higher. She whimpered and scratched his shoulders with a muffled curse.
&nb
sp; Then she started to beg.
Delicious pleas, soft and desperate, that shuddered through him and made his cock pulse. He strung her along on that edge for a few moments more before flicking her clit with his thumb.
She came with a keening moan, twisting and trembling as her inner muscles clenched tight around his fingers. Broken sounds fell from her lips, words cut short by cries she wasn’t trying to hold back.
He drank them in, covering her mouth with his as he moved over her, and rode the end of her orgasm with a single, deep thrust that shook her from head to toe. She scrambled to wrap her legs around his hips and tore her lips free of his. “Don’t move yet,” she pleaded. “I need—I need to breathe.”
Archer stilled and scraped his teeth over her chin. She squirmed under him, gasping and panting. “So breathe.”
“I can’t.” Her lips brushed his ear. “When you look at me, when you touch me…I can’t breathe. I can’t think.”
Control slipped, and he closed his teeth harder on her skin. “In that case…” He flexed his hips and pulled back only to drive into her again, hard and fast.
She pressed her open mouth to his cheek as she moaned again, arms and legs still tangled around his body as if she was afraid he’d pull away. “Again. Again, never stop.”
One hand under her hips lifted her to his thrusts, and Archer buried his face in her neck as she came apart. Every part of her tightened in release, her cunt around his cock, her legs around his hips, her fingers on his back.
She pleaded in whispers now, his name and words like love and forever, words that took him over the edge too. Unfair, as he rode those waves of pleasure, that reality would intrude. But he couldn’t even fool himself into thinking he had more time, because the refrain pounding in time with his own heartbeat was stark. Unforgiving.
The end.
Chapter Nine
The surviving members of Crystal Springs—Diana and her accommodating gentlemen excepted—had passed the new moon in relative boredom.
If Grace had possessed any lingering doubts about the focus of the vampires’ interest, the sight of the untouched saloon would have banished them. Three endless nights with no bloodhound protector, and the worst the townsfolk had suffered was irritation at being trapped together in one building with no privacy.
In her weakest moments, Grace rather envied them.
With the journals tucked safely in the saloon once more, Grace felt at a loss. She’d tasted goodbye on the last kisses Archer had given her. They’d both known it was coming. Once he’d dealt with the carnage in Doc’s old laboratory, he’d be sending word to his home for help. More bloodhounds who would scour the surrounding hills for surviving vampires and take Doc’s last words…somewhere. Presumably beyond the reach of those who could use his work to do harm.
Then he’d leave, and take what was left of her heart with him. She’d go back to living as a proper teacher. A lady.
She’d go back to living a lie.
Grace didn’t realize she’d been staring at nothing until she blinked and noticed someone had stepped in front of her. “Diana.”
“You’ve been wandering in circles for an hour.”
She set the half-folded blanket back on the table and studied Diana. Her friend sported just as many bites and bruises as Grace herself did, but unlike Grace, Diana looked as if the past few days had been pleasantly satisfying but entirely uncomplicated.
Diana didn’t look exhausted. “You and Archer are up and about and getting to work,” Grace protested. “I feel like I should be too. At least I got to sleep.”
“You make it sound so tragic.” Diana tilted her head. “Did something happen?”
“No. No, of course not.” She sounded high and defensive, which meant she’d already forgotten how to lie. Grace lowered her voice and tried again. “After the vampires attacked, Archer was very intense. Maybe I’m still a little dazed.”
Diana sucked in a breath and stepped closer. “Did he hurt you?”
“No.” Grace found herself clutching at the blanket and forced her fingers to relax. Everyone else was enjoying the freedom of being outside in the beautiful autumn weather, but Grace still lowered her voice to a whisper. “I hurt myself. I forgot to not give him everything.”
“Oh, Gracie.” Her friend’s eyes shadowed with sympathy, and she pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry.”
She shouldn’t have said the words. Not out loud. It made the feeling pressing down on her real. Burying her face in her friend’s shoulder, she drew in an unsteady breath. “I can’t be in love with him. If love hurt this much, no one would want it.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, honey.” Diana sighed. “If it couldn’t hurt like hell sometimes, the rest of it wouldn’t be pure heaven.”
Tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t look up. “After the past months, I should simply be relieved that I might live long enough to suffer a broken heart.”
“Who says it has to be broken at all?”
Archer had. With the words he’d said and the ones he’d withheld, and with every touch that had screamed this is the last time. And yet, there’d been a moment, a moment when she’d thought he wanted her to ask.
Like I said, it’s not the best life a man can offer.
Had he been trying to dissuade her? Or had she been a coward again, too afraid to make herself vulnerable? “I don’t know. Doesn’t it?”
“Not if you want something different.” Diana gripped her shoulders and caught her gaze. “Tell him, Gracie. Don’t let him leave if it’s not what you want, not until you’ve tried. If it doesn’t work, you’re no worse off than before, right?”
“The town…” She could hear the children playing in front of the saloon under Cook’s and Cecil’s watchful gazes. She’d resented them in the beginning, had resented the weight of responsibility that came with respectability. But at some point in her charade, she’d slipped across the invisible line to actually caring. “I don’t know if I can leave Crystal Springs. I wouldn’t like a person who could abandon those who needed help, and I doubt Archer would either.”
“I think any one of them would tell you to follow your heart. I know I would.”
Grace’s lips twitched, and she fought to keep her expression stern. “Is that your way of telling me I’m not as important as I’d like to think?”
Diana met her smile with one of her own. “I’m saying we’d survive. More than that, we’d understand.”
“All right. I’ll think about it.” She picked up the blanket again and nodded to the jumbled chaos of the room around them. “Doesn’t change the fact that this room needs tidying. Archer will be waiting for a reply to his telegram, which will mean more bloodhounds coming to town. Has he spoken to you about that at all?”
Diana’s smile faded. “I should let him tell you.”
“Tell me what?” When Diana didn’t immediately answer, Grace reached for her arm. “Has something else happened?”
“The telegraph lines,” she said finally. “They’ve been cut.”
Her heart plummeted. “And there’s no way of knowing whether it happened before or after the new moon, is there?” There couldn’t be. Not when most of the town had been locked up in the saloon, afraid to venture forth and meet with ghouls by day or vampires after dark.
“No. We can send a rider toward Iron Creek, but chances are good the remaining vampires plan to act soon.”
“Only you or Archer stands a chance of making it there alive, and the rest of us would have less of a chance surviving without you.” So there would be no help. No reinforcements. Just Archer and the weight of all of their lives on his shoulders. “Where did he go after he found the cut lines?”
Diana bit her lip. “He went to Doc’s. Looking for clues, I think. Anything that might tell us where these vampires are holed up.”
Her stomach turned over at the thought of that cellar and its grisly contents. “I don’t know if he left a large enough piece of any of them to serve as a clu
e. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“You’ve never seen a hound during the full moon.”
No, she had not. Oh, she’d listened to the things Diana had said—and had inferred a great deal from the things left unspoken—but she’d never understood what her friend went through every month.
“I hadn’t,” Grace agreed, meeting Diana’s eyes. “But now I have some inkling. And now I believe that you and Archer have the strength needed to deal with whatever vampires are left.”
“And we will,” Diana agreed. “Whether they come to us or we have to go to them. It ends soon.”
If Archer had wanted her to accompany him to Doc’s house, he would have fetched her himself. As tempting as it was to follow him there, at best she’d be risking her safety in a long ride across possibly ghoul-ridden territory. At worst she’d drag Diana away from protecting the town.
The only sensible thing to do was wait, to wish she had something to contribute beyond a gift for telling people the lies they wished to hear. “Did Archer ask you to do anything before he left?”
“Grace…”
Such reluctance. Grace steeled herself. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”
Diana shoved her hands in her back pockets and lowered her gaze. “He asked me to look out for you. Take care of you.”
Had that protectiveness he’d felt after the vampire attack lingered, or was it Archer’s way of passing the responsibility on to someone else? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know. “Well, it’s hardly something you needed direction on. You’ve been taking care of all of us.”
“So have you.”
“Not in the same way.” She stared at the clutter around her and couldn’t help but laugh. “You’ll go out and fight. I’m cleaning up the common room. My skills are not suited to war.”
“Fighting can be the least of it.” Diana crossed her arms over her chest. “Unless you think my being a fighter means I should have handled the threat to Crystal Springs all on my own.”
“No. No, of course not.” Grace pushed her hair back from her face and sighed. “I just want to help. It’s hard to be the one waiting for the people she cares about to come home safely.”
