by Grey, Shanon
He let his hand cup her warm breast, feeling its softness. The peak hardened beneath the teasing touch of his fingers. Her breath hitched. She was his. He could take her, make her his without thought, without guilt.
“Damn,” he moaned and pulled away from her. “Morgan, I can’t.” He sat on the side of the bed. The energy in the room dissipated.
She blinked. It took her a moment to get her brain back in order. He looked as though he was in agony. She let her eyes peruse the length of him. All evidence indicated he wanted her. So, what was the problem? He had a warm, more than willing woman in his bed.
She raised up on her elbows. “Is it another woman? Jasmine?”
He turned back to her. Her hardened nipples thrust against the thin jersey tank she wore. His mouth went dry. He forced himself to look at her face; otherwise, he was lost. Code or no code.
“You don’t want me? No, I don’t believe that.” Her breathing became a little more even. She sat up. “Oh, God, you’re not…I mean it’s okay if you are,” she stammered. “I mean—”
“No, Morgan, I’m not gay.” He smiled at her perceived blunder. “Oh, I want you. And there is definitely no one else.” He ran his hand through his hair, stood, and walked away from her, looking out the window into the darkened night. He could see the garden almost clearly. A full moon—that explained it. Hell, what was he thinking? That didn’t explain it at all. She was the reason. Her. A piece of his puzzle. A perfect fit. But she had no clue. He turned back to her. She sat on the side of the bed, her hands folded neatly in her lap. She looked down, dejected.
He walked back to her and knelt before her, looking up into her beautiful cat eyes. “We haven’t covered this part of it, yet. There are things I want you—I need for you—to understand before we have a physical relationship.”
She was looking at him with such trust. It was a good thing he was who he was or she would be on her back and him in her in a heartbeat. He wanted her—to complete her, as she put it—in the worst way. Fighting his desire, he took one of her hands, put it to his mouth and kissed the palm. “I don’t think we are going back to sleep tonight. Why don’t you put on something less revealing—like a suit of armor—and we’ll go downstairs. I could use a cup of tea.”
Morgan nodded. All she actually wanted was to turn around and crawl back into his bed. It smelled of him. Warm spice. She wanted to wallow in it, with him. Without a word, she stood and walked back into her room and closed the door. What had she been thinking? What had happened tonight? She threw a pair of jeans over her boy shorts and a sweatshirt over her tank, swiped on lip-gloss for good measure, and went to meet him downstairs.
He was letting Meesha out when she walked in. He looked mussed, evidence of their tussle in the bed. There was a darkness about his eyes. Worry lines creased his forehead. She went over and sat, waiting. As he had done so many times, he fixed a pot of tea, put a cozy on it, and brought it to the table to steep. Setting two mugs, with spoons in them, next to the pot, he sat.
For the longest time he looked at her, studied her face. “I don’t know exactly where to begin,” he said and chuckled. “I feel as though I’m about to tell you about the birds and bees for the first time.”
“Trust me, I already know about the birds and the bees.” She smiled a devilish smile that went straight to his gut.
“Oh, I’m sure you do,” he moaned, feeling his insides tighten. Even her slightest smile went to his groin. “This is more like the wolves and the owls, I should say.”
Morgan cocked her head thinking. “I don’t understand.”
“Animals that mate for life.” He heard her quick intake of breath.
“For us, it seems to be a compulsion—to find the one that matches us. Those of the crescent moon. That’s what the Abbott House deemed us. The children of the moon. Some such nonsense. They’ve got a million of them. Sayings for everything.”
“I still don’t understand. Melissa’s letter indicated I had a choice.”
“Did she?” he asked.
Morgan concentrated on just what the letter had said. Something to the effect that she was afraid Morgan would choose not to come to Ruthorford, but stay outside.
“Yes, she did.”
“Well, I’m sure she was going to go into more detail when you got together. It seems that women of your descent are strongly attracted to men of mine—so much so, in fact, that we have an extremely difficult time staying away from one another when we come within range.”
She watched Dorian make that statement matter-of-factly while pouring tea into their mugs. He set hers in front of her and she smelled the sweet scent of clove and orange peel. For fortification, she dumped a huge spoon of sugar in the mug and stirred.
“You make it sound like some kind of rutting season,” she huffed. Maybe she was reacting to the realization that that was exactly what it felt like they had been doing since she arrived. In all the years since her puberty, she’d felt incomplete. She wasn’t a virgin; she hadn’t been for a long time. Yet, she felt like it. Never quite satisfied. She’d had lovers whose technique was superb and she’d responded, as she should. Yet, she was left strangely unsatisfied, wanting them to leave—permanently. That had been her problem with Rob. As handsome and competent as he was, he left her cold. She thought she had a problem with her libido. She looked up at Dorian. Maybe it was time to find out.
He noticed the look in her eye and choked on his tea. “Whoa, girl. I’m not done yet,” he laughed.
“Oh.” She couldn’t help but pout. She looked at him from beneath her lashes and blinked a long slow blink. “Go on.” She heard him swallow and had trouble restraining a smile of gratification. At least she wasn’t the only one suffering.
“You don’t know what you do to me.”
It was her turn to swallow. His voice was pure sex.
“When we do come together, we will be bound,” he emphasized the last word. “We will be one with the other. We will feed off one another. Need one another. We will be in sync.”
“Kayla didn’t stay with her mate,” Morgan pointed out.
“Kayla isn’t like you. She has the crescent but not all the genes. Together they produced Meadow, who does. She will find a match-mate, hopefully. I’m not saying you and I can’t be with others. We can. I dated Jasmine for a while. She has the crescent but not the ‘vision’ genes. If Jasmine and I produced a child, she would be like Meadow or you. Unfortunately, the pull just wasn’t there for me. She wanted it to be but it wasn’t. I couldn’t help that.”
“Rob…” Morgan said softly.
Dorian’s eyes hardened. “Yeah. Rob. I don’t like him on so many levels.”
“Jealous, much?”
“Yes, but that wasn’t all. I don’t know what it is…” he didn’t finish.
“No need to worry. We didn’t…how did you put it… match.”
“If we do become a pair, as they say at Abbott House, we become so attuned to one another, we develop a form of telepathy. I don’t mean you can talk and I’ll hear you. Nothing like that. It’s more like I’ll think something and you’ll feel it. You’ll know, as though it was you.” He studied her a moment, then added, “I think. The truth is I am only repeating what Mel and Thom tried to explain. I’ve never experienced it. For the most part, I would have sworn Mel and Thom did read each other’s mind.”
He took a drink of tea. He didn’t look up. “It also enhances our abilities.”
“I’m not sure what abilities you’re talking about.” Morgan was still having trouble accepting the enhanced vision and the aura thing.
“The abilities you have and haven’t used. Your vision becomes stronger. You can read auras without me touching you. You can push with your mind. Mel used it in healing. Oh yeah, you can heal, somewhat. There’s more, I just don’t know what they are.”
“You are spinning my brain around.” Morgan set the cup aside. This conversation was no longer sexy. It was weird. She wasn’t ready for weird. She stood.
“One more thing…before I call it quits…alone…for the night—what happened tonight. I felt itchy. Then, suddenly, you came to mind and I thought you were in trouble, so I came running. You were glowing. And…well…you know the rest.”
He gave her the satisfaction of looking uncomfortable. “I was dreaming.” Silence spread between them. “About you.”
“Oh… Oh!” Her eyes popped open and she reddened. “Well, goodnight.” She turned and fled up the stairs. She heard his low laughter behind her.
Chapter Eleven
“Come on, sleepy head—out of bed!”
Morgan felt the cool air tease her body as the covers slipped away. She squinched up her face and peeked out of one eye. Dorian, fully dressed, and as handsome as ever, was tugging away her covers. She grabbed the end of the comforter in a last ditch effort, only to feel it slowly ease from her grasp. There she lay, cold, curled in a ball, in boy shorts and tank. She felt the weight of the robe land on her.
“It’s sunny and bright. We’re going exploring. Get dressed. Meet you downstairs in twenty minutes,” he called by the doorway. “Oh, might want to wear jeans and bring a light jacket or sweater. Plus,” he added, “sneakers—boots, if you have them.
She heard him bound down the stairs, whistle for Meesha, and slam out the back door.
She opened the other eye and looked at the clock. It was a little after nine, which wouldn’t have felt so early had she not been awake most of the night. She had lain awake, contemplating all that he’d said. At one point she seriously considered getting up, getting in bed with him, and saying “to hell with it” while letting the cards fall where they may. Fortunately, she had fallen asleep about that time.
So, what was he up to and why was he so damn chipper? She dragged herself off the bed and into the shower. She’d just finished tying her sneakers when he called up the stairs.
“Breakfast is on.”
“Be right down,” she called back and grabbed her favorite, albeit worn, sweater and tied it around her waist. Bless Jenn for remembering my sweater. The aromas drifting up the stairs made her stomach answer in a loud response.
“Sit down,” Dorian laughed at her growling stomach, “food’s on the table.”
Morgan sat down before a feast. Crispy bacon, cooked to perfection, surrounded a sunny yellow omelet with bits of tomato and spinach peeking out and topped with melted cheese. The coffee steamed up from the cup. A variety of muffins sat in a basket between them.
“Wow.” She held her plate as he served. “I know you didn’t make the muffins.”
“Nope, but I made everything else. Eat up; we have a hike ahead of us.”
She took a bite. She could get used to this. She eyed him while taking another bite.
He looked up and smiled at her as he shoveled omelet into his mouth. “What?” he said through a mouth full of egg.
“Just what are you up to?”
“Nothing. Really. Well…almost.”
She set down her fork, took a sip of coffee and sat back waiting.
He set down his napkin. “I realized you haven’t seen all the property. It is half yours, you know. I thought we’d take the day off and explore. I want to show it to you and today is a perfect day for it. I even have our lunch packed in a backpack for us.”
“What about the shop?”
Morgan had begun to enjoy the shop. As soon as Dorian had figured out her accounting skills, he had turned a lot of the paperwork over to her. She was surprised at how well the shop did. The books were in perfect order. The books for the gift shop were kept separate from the pharmacy.
There were several people who had standing accounts with the business and not one of them was delinquent. She did notice that Miss Alice and Miss Grace had asterisks by their names, as did Mr. Parker and several others, most of them elderly. She had asked Dorian when she’d had a moment. He had been working more in his lab since she’d been there and a whole day could pass before they’d get a chance to talk. He explained that The Shoppe of Spells had a tradition of offering discounts for senior citizens and those less fortunate. Upon examination, she found some of those discounts were quite steep. Another family, whose account included baby formulas and such, paid almost nothing. Dorian explained that the husband had recently passed away and the mother was trying to keep three children, all under the age of four, fed and clothed. It turned out she was one of the young waitresses that had waited on them at the bed and breakfast. She had thought the young woman looked tired. Even with all the discounts, The Shoppe of Spells held its own.
The largest account holders were the bed and breakfast and John Davis. The Shoppe of Spells supplied a large amount of herbs to both. She understood the bed and breakfast, but couldn’t quite figure John. There were also many miscellaneous pharmacy items. It worried her. She considered the possibility of drug dealing and approached Dorian about the purchases. Dorian laughed and reassured her that everything was on the up and up—but would go no further.
“The Shoppe of Spells is closed for the day. We pretty much do that around here. Teresa will answer the phones—I have any calls forwarded. As you’ve seen, there’s a pad of sticky notes in the mailbox so people can leave messages on the door. If there’s an emergency, I have my cell.”
He took their empty plates, rinsed them and loaded the dishwasher, then grabbed the backpack and headed out back. Meesha waited on the back steps. Dorian locked the back door, a rarity, and headed toward the back of the cottage. Morgan remembered the gate behind it. She followed, curious now. He held open the gate and Meesha dashed through. Morgan stepped through and stopped, causing Dorian to slam into her.
“You gotta stop that.” He pushed her ahead.
She couldn’t move. Before her lay a panorama of hills, meadows, trees, flowers, and a stream ribboning its way across the back. A field of lavender perfumed the air. She turned and stared at Dorian, dumbfounded.
“Your mouth is hanging open,” he teased. He pointed to the stream. “That’s the same stream that runs behind the bed and breakfast, down by the willows,” he commented. “I don’t know if you remember, but when you came into town, you crossed a bridge.”
“I remember. It had that welcome sign encircled by morning glory.”
“That’s the one. Well, the stream flows under it. It encircles three sides of Ruthorford. There’s a bridge on the other end of town as well. It’s a bit farther out. But it crosses our property here.”
She looked excited. “Our property? All this is our property?” Her eyes widened.
“Yep. Over thirty acres. Come on.” Dorian led her down a path that was well worn.
“I can see you’ve come this way before,” she mused and followed him. His pleasure was contagious.
He just smiled and pointed. It took a moment for Morgan to see the doe and her two yearlings standing on the other side of the lavender meadow, just inside the trees. Having caught a hint of their scent, the doe turned and led her little ones deeper into the woods. Quickly, they disappeared from sight.
She swung her arm. “This is why lavender is so prevalent.” She inhaled and let her senses absorb the beauty before her.
Dorian led her down the side of the field, then followed a path that meandered into the trees. The path steepened. More granite popped up between the trees. She looked around. Pines, maple, poplar, oak. Dogwoods were tucked under the taller trees. The trees thinned on one side as they stepped onto a slope of granite. He led her across it, then down the side. She heard the trickling of water. Twenty-five feet away from her, water streamed down a granite slope and fell into a rock pool, carved out by eons of cascading water.
Dorian led her around the pool, jumping over the tiny creek and moving around the side of an ivy covered slope. He stopped in front of an opening. If he hadn’t stopped, she would have walked right past it.
He led her inside the cave. About twenty feet in, the passage narrowed and darkened. “I know you can see in here, but I need some light.” He took out a pi
n-light.
He was right. Morgan’s eyes adjusted quickly. She could see fine. Funny, that had never occurred to her. She thought everyone could see in the dark.
She followed him along the passageway. The walls here were damp but smelled fresh. Another twenty feet or so and it looked like they’d come to a dead end. Dorian disappeared to the left. It opened into a stone cavern. A pool with glistening blue-green water occupied the middle.
He had stopped and turned to watch her expression. Her face lit with surprise; her eyes glistening like the water behind him. He took her hand and led her around the pool to a raised area of stone. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her easily until she sat on the edge. He pulled himself up and sat beside her. “Welcome to my grotto.”
She looked at the shimmering water in front of her. In places, the walls sparkled like diamonds. She had never seen anything like it. Morgan turned and flung her arms around him.
“Thank you. I never…it’s so…there aren’t words…”
He hugged her back. As she pulled away, he pushed her hair from her shoulder, leaving his hand cupping the back of her neck. The warmth of his hand and the energy he emitted moved down her spine. She closed her eyes in pleasure. She felt his mouth move on hers, asking. Her lips parted in answer. Their lips melted into one another; their tongues explored. The tingling quickly changed to a pulse. He slowly pulled back.
“Look,” he whispered and gently turned her head with his hand.
The grotto had come alive. Stones and crystals embedded in the walls glowed as they hadn’t before. The water seemed to vibrate, tiny sparks dancing across the surface. Little balls of mist floated above the surface, like faeries in flight.
“What? How? I don’t understand.” She looked at his now deep blue eyes, the desire molten in them.
“It’s us. We did that.” He let his hand run down her back.