by Viola Rivard
In a tone that warranted no debate, Cain said, “I kill, you clean.”
Sarah huffed, raising her chin. “I’m not skinning an animal. I’d rather starve.”
That was probably a bluff. After all, just yesterday she’d been planning on eating raw fish. It must not have been a very convincing bluff either, because Cain quickly called her on it.
“I am not under any obligation to feed you.”
He didn’t say it with menace. It wasn’t a threat, simply a fact. She could tell that he was serious, and knew that whether or not she ate for the night hinged on how she responded.
“I don’t know how,” she said, averting her eyes from his face.
He placed a hand on her back. “Come. I will show you this time, and you will do it the next.”
Sarah could hear the approval in his voice, and it pleased her more than giving in had annoyed her. She let him guide her to the stream, and tried to pretend that she didn’t care that they were walking so close together, and that his hand was touching her.
The fluttering in her stomach was soon forgotten as Cain set to skinning the rabbit. Seeing the rabbit’s insides reminded her why she could have never been a surgeon, and probably shouldn’t even be in nursing school. Blood, she could handle, but insides becoming outsides was a whole different story.
Despite her revulsion, she listened intently as he explained each step, from how to hold the knife, to which places to cut, and which parts to dispose of. She hadn’t expected him to be so patient.
Once they were done, Cain showed her how to light a small fire and stake the meat so that it roasted thoroughly. They sat next to each other as it cooked, staring into the flames.
“I never would have thought that werewolves bothered with this sort of thing,” she told him, and then quickly added, “I’m sure there are a lot of things I don’t know about werewolves. I really don’t mean to offend.”
Cain didn’t seem bothered. “We do not always prepare our meat. Most adults do not mind raw prey, but it is not suitable for pups, or our mates.”
“Your mates are human?” she asked, pretty sure that she already knew the answer.
There were stories that went back hundreds of years of werewolf brides, human women who joined packs to bear the children of alphas. There were also stories of women on the fringes giving birth to the children of various shifters, but such news had the tendency to get swept under the rug. No one ever spoke of what happened to the mothers, or their children.
“Yes. Our females cannot bear children,” he confirmed.
“How come?”
Cain gave a slight shrug. “Why is anything the way it is?”
“Do you have a mate?”
The question would have burned her if she kept it in any longer. It was none of her business, and no matter how he answered, it wouldn’t change anything. But she still wanted to know.
Cain cocked his head to the side. The corners of his sensuous lips twitched with suppressed amusement. “Does it bother you to think that I might?”
Her face heated. “Why would that bother me?”
Cain didn’t reply immediately. He reached out to turn the hare, which had already browned on one side. Even the mouthwatering scent of roasted meat couldn’t distract Sarah from the way her body reacted as he leaned in, the side of his bicep brushing against her arm. The heat from her face seemed to spread, until her whole body was tingling with a warm awareness of the male beside her.
In a low voice, he said, “I do not have a mate. I did, but no longer.”
“Oh…” She hadn’t expected that. Her brow furrowed in concern. “Did she pass away?”
“Three years ago,” he said. She tried to read him, but as usual, Cain’s expression was inscrutable.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, hanging her head. “I didn’t mean to dredge that up.”
“There is nothing to be sorry about,” he said. “I do not mourn her.”
She turned to blink at him. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“We did not favor one another,” he said matter-of-factly.
She shook her head in confusion. “Then why were you together?”
Dryly, he said, “For the only reason a male of my kind should be with a human female. Pups.”
Sarah made a noise of understanding and looked back at the meat. She chewed her lip, now fighting back another question. It was yet another thing that wasn’t her business, so she kept it to herself.
“How long until we get to your den?” she asked instead.
Cain didn’t bat an eye at the change of subject. “At this pace, two nights.”
Two nights, and then she would be on her way to the nearest town. Maybe if she offered to pick up extra shifts at the diner, her aunt would wire her the money to finish her trip. She could pick up right where she left off, head to Vermont, see her mom, and then move on with her life. Her time with a werewolf would just be something interesting to think about when she was old and gray—a reminder that not everything in her life had been dull and boring. All she had to do was mind her own business and not get involved, and in time, Cain would just be a memory.
6
By the time the sun peeked over the horizon, Sarah thought that her legs were going to give out. They had traveled in the blistering cold all night, and Cain set a grueling pace. As they hiked deeper into the mountains, the trees became thicker, their gnarled roots overlapping as they battled for the forest floor.
When they finally stopped under a rocky outcropping, Sarah collapsed in a heap of tired limbs. Cain split what was left of the meat between them and they ate in companionable silence.
As she was licking her fingers clean, she noticed Cain watching her. He made no effort to hide the desire in his golden eyes, and it caught her completely off guard. She froze, one finger still caught between her teeth. For one silly moment, she wanted to tempt him further. She wanted to look into his eyes as she slid her finger past her lips and into the warm cavern of her mouth, where she would slowly suck on it.
The moment passed, and she plucked her finger from her mouth, looking away awkwardly. She didn’t know the first thing about seducing a man, and if ever there was a man she shouldn’t be toying with, it was the werewolf beside her. What was it about him that made her want to forsake all good sense?
“Are we sleeping here?” she asked.
“Mm,” he said by way of confirmation.
Daring a glance at him, she said, “Are you going to build a fire?”
He shook his head. “Not here.”
She considered asking him to elaborate, but decided that she trusted his judgment. More to herself than to him, she said, “It’s going to be cold.”
Cain stood, offering a hand to help her up. He grabbed his bag and led her back to a small alcove. Sarah ducked inside first. The air was just as cold as outside, but the stone walls kept most of the wind at bay.
There was just enough room for them to both fit inside comfortably, but as soon as he was in, Cain grabbed her arm, pulling Sarah against his body. The breath left her lungs as her face came in contact with his hard chest. Briefly, Cain held her against him, before sitting and pulling her down into his lap.
“What are you doing?” she squeaked.
“We are resting,” he said, his fingers idly stroking her hair. When she breathed in again, her body was assaulted by his masculine scent, and she was helpless to control her reaction to him.
“Why are we resting like this?” she asked hoarsely.
Cain was warm, and in spite of her resistance, Sarah’s softer flesh seemed to meld perfectly to fit against his hard muscles. She struggled to keep her arousal in check, even as she greedily drank in his earthy scent.
“Why should we not rest like this?” he asked. There was a strange tightness in his voice, and Sarah got the impression that he genuinely wanted an answer.
It was cold out, but she was unlikely to freeze. The air in the alcove was already growing warmer from their
body heat, and the smart, responsible thing to do would be to ask him not to hold her. Being in his arms wasn’t a need, it was a want—a desire. It wasn’t just his warmth she wanted; she wanted to smell him and to feel his body against hers. Inside his arms, she felt safe, secure, and most ridiculous of all, she felt like she was somehow important to him.
Sarah didn’t respond. She closed her eyes and curled into his embrace. Maybe I am a weak person after all, she thought, as she drifted into sleep.
* * *
Cain slept more deeply than he had intended to. She was in his dreams, his blue-eyed human—and in his dreams, she was his. Her body belonged to him. Her plump lips, her full breasts, and each one of her wicked little fingers belonged to him.
Kissing was not something Cain had ever been overly fond of, but in his dreams, her lips were more necessary than his next breath. With each suck and with each scrape of his teeth against her delicate flesh, he claimed her lips as his own. His tongue plundered the sweet warmth of her mouth, devouring any words of protest as her body surrendered to his ministrations.
Never had he wanted so badly to stay within a dream. Though he fought against it, Cain slowly returned to reality, where his circumstances were nearly as appealing.
At some point in the day, they had shifted positions so that they were lying side by side, her head resting on his arm. His free hand had slipped under her jacket, where it rested on the swell of one rounded breast. His cock jutted against her fleshy backside, hard and aching with the need to be inside of her.
Part of him had known, when he had taken her into his arms that morning, that he would not be able to resist touching her in ways that pleased him. There were many things Cain was in the habit of denying himself, but an aroused female was hardly one—and she had been undeniably aroused.
As his cock strained between them, his resolve began to shake. He began reasoning with himself, trying to justify why his hand had begun squeezing her breast.
He could have her. Even if she thought to deny him, it would be only a small matter. She lusted for him, and he knew all of the ways to touch and stroke her, until her protests turned to pleas for more. If he could have her now and take his release inside of her without consequences, why should he stop himself?
* * *
There was no ambiguity for Sarah. It was as if, even in her sleep, she had been anticipating what was to come. The instant she woke, she was fully aware of Cain and what he was doing to her body. Before rationality could catch up with her awareness, Sarah leaned into him, biting her lip to stave off a moan as his hard length ground against her rear.
Exercising less control, Cain groaned—a rough, masculine sound—and moved his hips to press his erection between her thighs. His breathing grew uneven as his hand began a rhythmical kneading of her breast.
Her mind was racing, grasping for some excuse for the fact that she wasn’t pushing him away. Their clothes were still on, she tried to reason. As long as their clothes stayed on, then they could touch each other as much as they wanted, right?
Just as she was comforting herself with the revelation, Cain’s hand moved downward, slipping under her shirt. She could feel the calluses on his fingers as his hand ran across her bare flesh, pushing under her bra to palm her breast. This time, she was unable to stop herself from moaning. She could feel her inner thighs growing slick with her arousal.
She felt his hot breath on her ear, and then he spoke, his words a husky whisper. “I want you.”
Her body went rigid as she tried to process the words. “You barely know me,” was all she could think to say.
Cain took hold of one nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. He squeezed it, just a little too hard, hard enough to make her body betray her and arch into his touch. “I know that you want me,” he said. She heard him inhale deeply. “I can smell it.”
Sarah jerked away from him and sat up, wrapping her arms around her middle. She willed her breathing to slow and her pulse to settle, before fixing him with a hard stare. “You have no idea what I want.”
Cain sat up as well, moving to brace his arms on either side of her. The predatory gleam in his golden eyes scared her, not because she thought he would take her, but because he was right—she wanted him. She wanted him to push her down, push beyond her resistances, and take her right there on the ground, and it scared the hell out of her. They had just met, and he was a werewolf.
He leaned in, until their lips were only inches apart. Giving her a knowing look, he said, “I think you are the one who does not know what she wants.”
“Look, it’s just—”
He cut her off. “Have you never been with a man before?”
The question hung between them as Sarah felt the blood rush to her cheeks.
“O-of course I have,” she stammered.
Cain narrowed his eyes, not seeming convinced. “Then what reason could you possibly have for denying me? Is it because I am a wolf?”
“No,” she replied emphatically. He looked momentarily pleased, but didn’t relent in his questioning.
“Are you concerned that I will impregnate you?”
Her eyes widened. “No! Wait, well, yes, but—”
“You are not fertile,” he said. “We can couple freely.”
Her blush deepened. Just how much could he smell? Sarah took a deep breath and placed a hand on his shoulder.
“It has nothing to do with any of that. I just…” She looked away, searching for the words to explain. “Sex is just something that I think should be shared between two people who love each other.”
Cain didn’t sound impressed by her explanation. “We do not have to be in love to take pleasure in each other’s bodies.”
Swallowing her pride, she said, “I don’t know how to do that.” She met his gaze again, hoping she didn’t look as pathetic as she felt. “Sex and love, I just don’t know how to separate them. Believe me, I’ve tried, and I’ve failed, and I’ve been hurt.”
Cain reached up, taking her hand from his shoulder. He pulled it to his mouth, running her fingertips over his lips. They were softer than she’d imagined, and her body ached to have them on more than just her fingers.
“I will not hurt you,” he said.
More than ever, Sarah wished she was a stronger woman. A woman who could have sex just for the pleasure of it. A woman who, when a man said ‘I want you’, didn’t feel a rush of emotion and a pained longing. Sarah pulled her hand back.
“You have no idea what hurts me.”
7
“What’s in the bag?” Sarah asked.
She had been trudging behind Cain for several hours, struggling to keep pace though she suspected he was walking slower than he normally would. The ground was on a slight incline tonight, as they were steadily making their way up the side of a mountain. Several times she tried looking up to gauge how much farther it was to the top, but the canopy of twisted tree limbs gave nothing away.
Sarah was referring to his duffle bag, though admittedly, she wasn’t particularly interested in it. The silence between them, which had been comfortable the night before, felt oppressive now, and all she wanted was to dispel the tension between them. She missed talking to him.
Quietly, he answered, “Supplies.”
“I see,” she said, not sure where to go from there. She thought for a moment, and then started to ask, “So, do you—”
Cain turned back, and Sarah had to stop short to avoid running into him. She craned her neck up to give him a questioning look.
He said, “Keep your voice down. This is not neutral territory.”
Cain resumed walking and Sarah placed a hand on his arm, trying to keep up. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she asked, “Is that why you haven’t been talking to me?”
“No,” he replied bluntly. She thought there might be a hint of humor in his tone, though it may have just been wishful thinking.
“So whose territory is this?” she asked, hoping to change the subject to
something that didn’t embarrass her.
“I told you earlier, bears.”
“Werebears?”
Cain chuckled. “If you meet one, be sure not to call him that, unless you want to get eaten.”
Her brow furrowed. “Well, what do they like to be called?”
“Bears.”
“Doesn’t that get confusing?”
Cain shook his head. “Only to humans.”
Sarah couldn’t argue with that, because it didn’t make much sense to her. She was relieved that they were talking again. Anything to keep her mind off of the cold and her aching body.
“What happens if we run into a bear?”
Cain rubbed his jaw. “I suppose we will have to beg for mercy.”
She gave him a skeptical look. “Seriously?”
He laughed. “Of course not. I would never cower before a bear.” He gave her a sideways glance. “If we encounter a bear, we will fight to the death.”
Her anxiety rose for a split second, until she noticed the mirth dancing in his golden eyes. She snorted, giving him a hard nudge on the arm.
“You can fight to the death all you want, hot shot. If I see a bear, I’m running.”
Cain stopped again, his face impassive. Sarah blinked up at him. She pulled her hand back and gave him an apologetic look.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have pushed you.”
Ignoring her, Cain shrugged the duffle bag off his shoulder and thrust it into her arms. “Do not drop this,” he ordered.
She watched in confusion as he began pulling his shirt off. “What are you—”
Somewhere in the distance—but not nearly distant enough—Sarah heard an unmistakable roar.
Bears.
* * *
Cain darted through the forest, bounding over large rocks and narrowly dodging trees. The human’s hands clung tightly to his back, her nails biting into his flesh. The pain was irrelevant to him. All that mattered was that she held on.
From the start, he had known that the human would be a burden. He had anticipated it would be her body that drove him to distraction, and he had been right on that count. Even while walking and conversing with her, his mind was strategizing, not on how they were going to safely navigate through the mountains, but on how he was going to work around her nonsensical objections to coupling with him.