by Mae Clair
“How do you know?”
“Because, I know you, damn it! You wouldn’t have blown three years of suffering on a one-night binge.”
“You’re assuming I can control myself when I change.”
“More than you think.” Wyn picked up the water bottle. “Hold out your hands.”
Still dazed from the sight of so much blood, Caleb was slow to respond. “What for?”
“To clean up. I left Arianna sleeping at the house. You don’t want her to see you looking like you came from an abattoir, do you?”
Caleb blanched. “She’s at the house?”
“You really don’t remember anything about last night?”
“I’m not sure.” Numbly, Caleb held out his hands, scrubbing the blood from his fingers and forearms when Wyn doused him with water. He remembered being in the parlor with Wyn, the change crashing over him sooner than expected.
A Siren Moon.
It happened rarely, but the pull was relentless when the anomaly occurred, forcing the transformation before true darkness claimed the sky. One moment he was sane, the next at the mercy of the curse. Unnerved, he glanced at Wyn.
“Arianna was in the parlor. Right before–” He stopped, his face bleached of color. “She was there, Winston. She was there when it happened.”
“Come on.” Wyn hooked him under the arm, helping him to his feet. “I’ve got a robe for you in the car. You need to go home and take a shower. You’re filthy.”
Caleb held the blanket clutched around his hips, dread settling in his gut like stone. He didn’t have to see his legs and feet to know they were caked with mud and dirt, his chest and face streaked with grime. He smelled of dark earth and clotted blood. Every joint in his body pulsed with fire, mirroring the flame-white agony in his skull. “She knows, doesn’t she?” He didn’t know which made him sicker–the coppery flecks of dried blood clinging to corner of his mouth, or the shameful realization that Arianna knew his darkest secret.
Wyn looked away. “She still loves you.”
“Why the hell did you tell her?”
“I didn’t have a choice. You damn near tore the door off the hinges, then freaking busted through the front window. You left the parlor in a shambles and your clothes in shreds. After that, saying ‘Caleb is a werewolf’ made a perverted kind of sense. If you’re unhappy, sue me.”
Caleb gritted his teeth. “I should wipe the ground with you.”
“Pick a rain date. You haven’t got the strength.” Hooking him under the arm, Wyn propelled him toward the car. “Start walking, Colonel. Last night wasn’t a picnic for me either.”
Caleb trudged along in his grip, fighting fatigue and annoyance. To the east, the sun inched above the horizon, melting into the sky like an amoeba of coral and brass. Caleb shivered in the chill morning air, hating the weak fragility of his body. It was difficult walking with bare feet, the ground wet and uneven, strewn with tiny stones and twigs. His muscles protested until he grunted with the strain, forcing Wyn to slow his pace. Knowing he’d probably stumble if left to his own devices, Caleb studied his nephew from the corner of his eye.
He knew Wyn’s anger masked concern. Only a year older, the doctor looked like he’d aged a decade overnight. And he was favoring his left arm.
“What’s wrong with your arm?”
“Nothing. The car’s over the next rise. Think you can make it?”
“I’m not incapacitated, Winston.” A habitual reflex. He cursed, uncertain why he grew automatically defensive.
They walked the remaining distance without speaking, Caleb’s mind wandering to the blood on the ground and his hands. An icy draft sliced through him. If he’d killed something–killed someone, surely he’d know. He had to believe his conscience would never allow him to commit such an unpardonable sin. That somehow, even in wolf form, he’d be able to master the predatory half of his soul.
At the car, he slipped on the robe Wyn had brought for him, then collapsed in the passenger’s seat with a groan. He longed to shower and wash away the stink of blood and earth, and sleep for a week.
He rolled his head on the seat to look at Wyn, heart pounding, his mouth dry. “Are you sure she still loves me?”
Wyn smiled faintly. “Wolf and all, Caleb.”
Chapter 23
Arianna woke to the sound of car doors slamming. Gray light streamed through the remaining window in the parlor, announcing dawn’s pallid arrival. The other window had been boarded over with plywood until Wyn could have it repaired.
They’d managed the vast majority of cleanup last night despite the increasing stiffness of his shoulder. Once she’d gotten a good look at the claw marks on his chest and arm, she’d wanted to take him to the ER, but he’d downed a handful of antibiotics with some painkillers, and told her he’d be fine. Afterward, he’d changed clothes, discarding his torn, bloody shirt while she’d cleaned up the parlor. There was little she could do for the ripped cushions or drapes, but at least she’d been able to sweep up the glass and right the overturned furniture. It had kept her occupied while she agonized over Caleb.
She didn’t remember falling asleep, but somewhere during the night she must have dozed on the sofa. The sound of the car door told her Wyn had left without her, but the double slam indicated someone had returned with him. Wide awake, she darted from the room and flung open the front door in her haste to hurry outside.
“Caleb!”
He raised his head at the bottom of the porch steps, one hand locked on the banister as he stared up at her. He was barefoot, dressed in a belted navy robe, the natural luster of his long hair dulled by dirt and clinging bits of grass. His face was drawn, streaked with grime and flecks of something darker across one cheek. There was dirt on his chest where the robe gaped open, heavier streaks of mud on his legs. As exhausted and unkempt as he appeared, she thought he’d never looked so good.
“Thank God!” She sprinted down the stairs and into his arms before he could utter a word. He tensed, every muscle in his body growing rigid.
“Annie.” His voice caught as he buried his face in her hair. “I didn’t want you to know.”
“I don’t care.” She was vaguely aware of Wyn trudging up the steps, giving them privacy. She couldn’t kiss him enough–his hair, his cheek, his temple. Maddeningly, he kept his mouth turned away. She could feel the weight of his body, leaden with fatigue, and realized she wasn’t doing him any good keeping him on his feet.
“Let me help you inside.” Moving beneath his shoulder, she gripped him around the waist. He used the banister for support, his head angled back as he looked up at the doorway. When the light struck his face, she realized the tiny red specks stuck to his cheek were flecks of dried blood.
Her breath caught. “Caleb, are you hurt?”
“No. I just want to take a shower and crawl into bed.” He managed a half smile. “Best invention of the modern age, showers. Maybe tonight we can talk.” He eyed her worriedly. “I need to explain what happened. I don’t want you to think–”
“You don’t have to explain anything. Wyn already did that.” Together they stepped onto the porch, and she reached for the door, holding it open. “I know about Seth and the room in the basement. I know why you get those horrible headaches and about the injections he gives you.”
“What don’t you know?”
Whether or not you truly love me. Her throat tightened on a lump. She wished he would say it. She’d willingly go back to 1863 with him if she could, having come to the realization she couldn’t live without him.
“Whether or not you need help in the shower?” She managed a teasing smile, though her heart was anything but light.
He groaned in appreciation, slumping against the wall inside the door. “As much as I’d like that, I don’t think it’s physically possible. Not now.” Gently, he curled a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “When I’m cleaned up, I want to hold you in my arms. In my bed.”
Her stomach did a somersault. Even exhaust
ed, he had the power to make her quake with desire. She nodded mutely, not trusting her voice. It had been sheer bliss to sleep with him, snuggled in his arms. Tired, emotionally spent, she could think of no better way to spend the next twenty-four hours.
“Caleb.” Wyn rounded the corner of the parlor as a car pulled into the drive. She glanced through the screen door in time to see Lucas Drake’s Chevy Tahoe stop beside her Sebring.
“That’s Luke’s SUV.”
Wyn tugged his uncle away from the door. “Caleb, you better get upstairs.” He jerked his head in the direction of the staircase off the center hall. “Ari, help him, okay? I’ll talk to Drake.”
She nodded, frazzled by the unexpected visit. Luke showing up unannounced a few hours after dawn meant he was calling in an official capacity. She started for the steps, but Caleb halted her at the bottom of the staircase.
“I need fresh clothes,” he said. “Jeans, shirt and shoes from my room. I’ll wait in the back bedroom. You’ll move faster without me.”
“But–”
“Quickly, Annie.”
She nodded, trusting blindly. He looked ready to keel over, but he wasn’t going to let his nephew confront Lucas alone. And Wyn believed he didn’t care.
She moved as swiftly as she could, using the back staircase to return when she heard Luke’s voice drifting from the vicinity of the front door. She found Caleb in the rear bedroom, seated on the edge of the bed. He held out his hands for the jeans the moment she stepped into the room.
“Quickly,” he ordered.
She didn’t understand his need for speed but went to the powder room to fetch a towel while he dressed. He was buttoning his shirt when she returned, almost presentable except for the disheveled mess of his hair and the smattering of dirt and blood on his face.
“Do you have a comb?” she asked.
“Upstairs.” Hastily, he stuffed the shirttail into his jeans. “Look in the bureau. Maybe there’s something.”
Arianna rummaged through the top two drawers before locating a comb. “Here.”
Caleb turned, blanching when he caught sight of himself in the mirror. “Hades, I look like I spent a week in Libby Prison.”
“That’s a matter of opinion. You look great to me.”
He flashed a smile, dimmer than usual, but warm enough to let her know he valued the compliment. She passed him the towel, and he rubbed it through his hair, dislodging bits of grass and dirt before dragging the comb through it.
“You should wash your face. And your hands.”
He nodded and headed for the powder room. She knew he was operating on adrenaline, his stamina shot. He scrubbed his face and hands at the sink, toweled them dry, and then tossed the used cloth onto the vanity without a backward glance. He caught her about the waist as he stepped through the doorway, bending to deliver a quick, unexpected kiss.
“You’re beautiful.”
Before she could say a word, he snatched her hand and pulled her along behind him. It wasn’t long before they heard Lucas’s voice drifting from inside the front door.
“…happened to your window?”
“Lawn tractor kicked up a stone,” Wyn said as she and Caleb approached from the opposite end of the hall. “Shattered the pane. I haven’t had a chance to replace it yet.”
“That so?” Luke didn’t sound convinced.
“Sergeant Drake,” Caleb greeted as the two of them joined Lucas and Wyn. “You’re up early.”
“So I am.” Lucas’s eyes skimmed to the side, settling on Arianna. “We seem to have a habit of running into each other here.”
“So we do.” Her tone was cool, but her heart fluttered like a wild thing. She could think of only one reason Luke would be calling. Please God, anything but that.
“There was another killing last night,” he announced, confirming her fears. “A young girl barely out of her teens. Her body was found south of here on Weathering Rock grounds.”
Caleb made a sound, half moan, half curse, and slumped against the wall. Arianna held onto to his arm, frightened at how pale he became. “Caleb?”
“Headache,” he ground out through clenched teeth.
She could feel tremors racing through his muscles and knew his strength would give out in a matter of minutes.
Luke eyed him speculatively. “You don’t look good, DeCardian. Are you sick?”
“Headache,” Caleb said again, but his breath was short. She knew he’d been shaken by the news of the dead girl.
“Mind telling me where you were last night?” Luke asked.
“Lucas!” Arianna cried, appalled.
“He was here with me,” Wyn snapped.
“All night?”
“He does live here.”
“So you spent the night sitting in his bedroom?”
“No, but I did,” Arianna protested hotly. “And I didn’t spend it sitting. Do I have to spell it out for you? I’m not in the habit of detailing what I do in a man’s bed, but if that’s what it will take to make you stop this outrageous questioning–”
“All right.” Lucas held up a hand. “You made your point. But you have to understand my position. Whatever’s going on with these killings is confined to the area around Weathering Rock.”
Caleb cast him an uneasy glance. “Do you know what killed the girl?”
“Same as the man and the two deer. Medical Examiner says it’s a large predatory animal. Personally, I’m inclined to believe it’s a psychotic with one mother of a knife and a taste for butchering.” He gave a courtesy tip of his head. “I’ll be in touch, folks.”
They watched him jog down the front steps. When he’d climbed into his vehicle and was pulling down the driveway, Caleb sagged bonelessly into the wall. “You shouldn’t have lied like that. Either of you.”
“He’s after Seth,” Wyn muttered. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”
Caleb nodded, his face strained. Arianna was about to suggest she help him upstairs when he cupped her cheek. “Sweetheart, I need you to do something for me. Go to the barn and check on Ranger. Make sure he’s all right.”
“What?”
“Please, Annie. Horses and wolves don’t mix. If Seth was here last night, Ranger might have hurt himself trying to escape.” He drew an uneven breath, his eyes dipping self-consciously. “I need a moment with Winston.”
“Caleb–” She wanted to refuse, fearful of what he would discuss behind her back, but his eyes flashed to her face and the torment in his gaze stopped her. “All right.” She placed her hand lightly on his chest and pushed on her tiptoes to brush a kiss against his lips. “Just remember you have orders to sleep for the next twenty-four hours, and I intend to see that you do.”
His smile was weak, forced through fatigue and something more painful. “I’ll be in the bedroom.” His eyes slid to the side, settling on his nephew. “Help me upstairs, Winston?”
It was a request, not an order. Only when the two men had started up the steps did she realize Caleb rarely, if ever, asked for help.
* * * *
From his hiding place, Seth watched the cop drive away.
He’d killed the girl under the full moon, the wolf-frenzy exploding asylum-white in his veins, beet-red in his genitals. The sticky taste of her blood had pushed him to ejaculation, leaving him drained and sated.
He would have crawled into bed to sleep it off, but he’d sensed DeCardian hunting close by. He’d watched his rival kill a groundhog, a feat so pathetically beneath him it curdled his gut. He’d waited until Caleb had passed out, then doused the area with blood. Only the most disciplined werewolf remembered what he did under the influence of a full moon. Waking to the news of a dead body and finding blood on his hands would eat at DeCardian’s moral conscience.
Seth grinned.
He couldn’t have planned it better than if he’d conjured the full moon himself.
Chapter 24
Caleb strode into his bedroom and headed for the window, yanking the drapes shut against
the glare of early morning sun. The brutal effects of having his body forced from man to animal and back again were never easily shaken. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Lucas Drake he had a headache. He braced his hands on the windowsill, unwilling to turn when he heard Wyn close the door behind him.
“I killed that girl.”
He knew it in his gut, his heart too. He’d done the unthinkable, condemning himself for eternity by slaughtering an innocent. “I was covered in blood, Winston.” Had she screamed, pleaded for her life, been out of her mind with horror? God in heaven, did he make her suffer?
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Behind him, Wyn exhaled in annoyance. “I told you it was an animal. A rabbit or something. You didn’t kill anyone.”
“How can you be so sure? You weren’t there. You don’t know what I did. Curse it, I don’t know what I did!” The ugly reality crashed over him. Murderer, killer, butcher, beast. In one fell night he’d become everything he hated, forever stripped of the possibility of redemption. “This changes everything.” Bowing his head, he used a thumb and forefinger to pinch grit from his eyes. “I can’t keep doing this. Not now, not this way. I’m dangerous. To you and to Arianna.”
“Bullshit.” Wyn tromped closer. “Nothing’s changed.”
“Don’t you understand?” Caleb exploded. “I took the life of another human being.” He was defiled, a thing of darkness and disease. He’d killed for pleasure, relishing the savagery of violent death. “It could have been you or Arianna.”
“You’re overreacting.” Wyn reached for his sleeve.
“Don’t.” Caleb knocked his arm aside.
Wyn sucked a breath between his teeth. He hunched over, protectively grasping his left arm below the shoulder.
“Winston?” Caleb knew he hadn’t struck with enough force to cause injury. “What’s wrong?” His stomach contorted as a hideous thought rooted in his mind. Last night, had he hurt Wyn too?
Wyn shook his head. “I banged my shoulder. It’s no big deal.”