His libido took a major nosedive at her words. No regrets. Never regrets. Not with her. “Aw, hell, Moonbeam. I don’t want you to regret a thing.” He kissed her forehead and stepped away, putting the kitchen island between them.
He couldn’t suppress his grin when she crossed her arms and scowled. Even crankiness looked sexy on his little mate. Then her features smoothed as her arousal receded and her mind kicked into gear and yes, there. Embarrassment danced across her features, leaving behind a hot pink on her cheeks.
She huffed. “This has been the weirdest damn day of my entire life.”
Best damn day for him. Nothing could top meeting his mate. Except spreading her out on his big bed upstairs, sliding between her silken thighs and—
He shook his head to dislodge that thought nugget and to discourage his desire from overpowering his good sense. “I suppose we should call it a night. You can have my room.”
Her brows collided. “Do you have a guest room I could use instead?”
“Something wrong with my room?”
She shrugged. “Not really. It’s just…the Wolf thing….”
He arched a brow. “Wolf thing?” He failed to see the connection between ‘Wolf’ and ‘bedroom.’
She ran her hands along the edge of the island countertop. “It’s weird to talk so freely about the Werewolf stuff. I used to have to hide it all the time. And yet here, the moment we met, you already assumed I was a Wolf. We didn’t have one awkward moment about it.”
He still couldn’t parse what this had to do with his bedroom, but he played along. “Of course not. I scented you the moment you hit my front deck.”
“Right.” A ghost of a smile played across her lips, still swollen and red from his kisses. “I scented you, too, as soon as you opened the door.” She flattened her palms on the counter. “Do all Wolves smell as you do?”
Ah. He saw where she headed with this talk. “And how do I smell?”
She blushed. “It’s…I, uh…you smell really good.”
He laughed. God, he loved seeing her cheeks all aflame because of him. “Why, thank you. While it’s true we all give off a scent identifying us as Werewolf, each one of us has our own unique scent and energy signature as well. Our personal calling card, if you will.”
“I see. Well, your scent really appeals to me.” She bit her lip and rounded the island, sidling closer to him. “To be honest, I don’t think I’d sleep at all if I stayed in your room. In your bed. Surrounded by your smell.” She shrugged. “It’s the Wolf thing.”
A satisfied grin cracked his face at her words. “Music to my ears, Moonbeam.” Wolf thing, indeed. A mate thing, too. A fact he’d share with her tomorrow, after she’d had a chance to settle in.
At her exasperated sigh, he winked and pointed at the stairs. “You can take my sister’s room. Last door upstairs on the end. It has a private bath, too.”
“Sounds good.” She walked into his living room and collected her laptop then hesitated at the foot of the stairs. “I know I keep saying this, but, thanks.” Her expression suggested she wanted to say more, but she snapped her mouth shut.
He knew the feeling. Nothing would please him more than to tell her everything about the mate bond right the hell now, but she needed time and rest, and he needed to make some calls. Starting with his father.
He watched her perfect, round ass sway as she walked upstairs and almost regretted his decision not to ravish her all night long.
Chapter Eight
Petulant meows and rapid scratches on the closed bedroom door woke Darci from the deepest sleep she’d had in ages. She stretched and glanced at the bedside clock. Midmorning. Surprising. She’d expected her inner turmoil and intense evening with Ross to keep her awake, but exhaustion from traipsing to town on foot in a wicked storm apparently trumped her need to analyze any of it. Was she ready to get up and deal?
The doorknob rattled as if in answer to her question. Yes, time to face her problem along with the kind, sexy man. Darci slid from the bed and padded across the room, happy her ankle didn’t twinge one bit as she moved. She opened the door. “You part dog?” She’d never met a cat wanting so much attention.
Cinder darted between Darci’s legs, leaping onto the bed with cute-cat style. “I see how it is, fur ball. It’s not me. It’s the big cushy bed.”
Cinder pounced on the feather pillow, made a quick turn then settled into it, so small the sides practically hid her from view.
“You’re adorable.” Maybe she’d get a cat when she returned to Ashland.
She frowned and rubbed the tight spot forming in her chest at the thought of leaving, of walking away from Ross. Meeting him was forcing her to question her beliefs, that being a Wolf was wrong, bad, and not for her. She’d come to Los Lobos looking for a way to make her shifting stop for good. Instead, she found herself craving more of this man and the profound sense of connection he elicited from deep inside her. If Ross—a virtual stranger—instilled in her such a sense of home, would she feel the same way about the whole Werewolf community? Was it worth risking another, life-threatening shift in order to find out?
Her potential, imminent death made her throat tighten with dread, but she shook it off. No pity party. She needed to stay strong and tackle this problem head on. Hopefully, with superpowered Wolf assistance. “Okay, Cinder. I’m going to shower and change then find your master.”
She pulled the door wider to make sure kitty could leave if he wanted, and discovered her shiny purple suitcase with two yellow post-its stuck to the front. A note from Ross in neat print.
Darci,
Found your keys. Had your car brought to town. Coffee made. Help yourself to anything else you need—my home is yours. Back in afternoon with lunch.
Ross
He’d left his cell number, too. “Wow, Cinder. Your owner is such a nice guy.”
If anyone else had dug through her coat pocket for her keys and taken such liberties with her belongings, she’d rip them to shreds. But Ross? Everything he did seemed right and somehow appropriate. Goose bumps sprang up on her arms as she recalled his musky scent, his lips devouring hers, his fingers tweaking her nipples. She wanted to rush into his bedroom and roll around on his bed, drown in his scent while she played herself to orgasm. While waiting for him to come home, maybe find her naked in his bed—
Darci dismissed the tempting bed idea, grabbed her suitcase, and headed to the bathroom, imagining Ross’s big body, his hard dick grinding against her, his strong arms banding around her, his mouth licking and nipping at her neck. Need pooled low in her belly. Maybe some fantasy shower action would temper her lust.
She shut the bathroom door on the cat as he leapt off the bed to join her. “No, kitty. This is a solo shower.” Maybe the next one would include Ross.
After a hot, steamy shower—complete with orgasm and wonderful Ross fantasies—Darci threw on a T-shirt and jean shorts then wandered downstairs to the kitchen. Ross didn’t have much in the way of breakfast food—unless she wanted meat—so she ate thick, homemade bread slathered with strawberry jam and downed a hefty mug of coffee and milk, heavy on the cinnamon then poured herself another one. Coffee wasn’t her brightest idea coupled with her mega hours of sleep. Now she had excess energy and nothing to do for possibly another hour or more, before Ross returned with lunch. Nothing but stew on her new dilemma—to Wolf or not to Wolf, this was the million-dollar, life-changing question confronting her.
She abandoned the kitchen and her second cup of coffee and followed Cinder down a short hall and into what had to be Ross’s office. “Wow. Nice man space your master has, kitty cat.”
The well-appointed room boasted a rustic yet modern desk and a huge chair she could just imagine his large frame sitting in. Stocked bookshelves lined the entire wall surrounding the doorway, making her think Ross must enjoy reading. A large couch fronting a stone fireplace invited her to stay awhile and relax, but across the room, the outside beckoned her with its bright midday sun str
eaming into the room through big, curtain-free windows and spotless, sliding glass doors.
Blue sky, no hint of another crazy storm. Mountains. Trees. A bit of heaven. She padded across the hardwood floor and opened the door, hovering on the threshold as heat blasted her in the face. Probably mid-seventies with no hint of a breeze. An improvement over last night’s freezing rain/hail.
She stepped onto the deck, the wood warm under her soles, the air heavy with pine. A gray blur shot past her feet. The cat. Was he supposed to be outside? What if the little bundle ran off into the hills and some beastie ate him?
“Cinder, come here.”
The cat eyed her as if she were nuts and bolted around the table and chairs, diving under the nearby loungers.
She hurried to him and squatted down. “Come here, kitty.” She reached under.
Cinder swatted at her then scurried off.
By the time Darci had straightened, the little streak of lightning had already rounded the corner of the house. Darci ran. She was fast, but the pesky cat was faster and seemed to enjoy the chase. Soon they’d traversed the entire wraparound deck.
Darci finally gained the advantage when the darn kitten gave it to her, leaping onto the round patio table. She snagged the kitten around its middle and pressed him to her shoulder. “Gotcha, fur ball.”
The fur ball purred then wriggled in her grasp.
“Easy.” She pivoted away from the table, intent on putting the cat in the house and almost collided with Gee, standing a mere step away from her.
She shrieked and dropped Cinder, who—thank goodness—scrambled into the house. “Good grief, Gee, you scared the hell out of me.”
How could a man so huge be so stealthy? She slid the door shut behind the cat and eyed the big, big man. Bigger than Ross. A Bear shifter. Taciturn. Impossible to read.
Gee stared at her through sunglasses as black as his hair.
Darci stared back.
Gee raised his arm.
Darci retreated a step, pulse accelerating in alarm.
A six-pack dangled from his hand. “Beer?”
The tension fled Darci’s shoulders. “Sure, thanks.”
Gee freed a can and tossed it to her then took up residence on a lounger while Darci sank into a chair at the table, propping her legs on another in the shade offered by the table’s umbrella. She tilted her head and took a long drink, the chill liquid a nice contrast to the heat of the day.
“You here to see Ross?” She refrained from telling him Ross wasn’t at home. Her dad’s note told her to trust the Werebear, but the man screamed Danger with a capital D. Of course, being a shifter himself with superior senses, he likely already knew Darci was home alone. She hurried to take another sip of beer to mask her nerves.
Gee took a long pull from his beer. “No.”
Okay, then, he didn’t want to talk? She could talk. “My dad sent me here to see you and Ross—”
“Where is he?”
Darci bristled at the interruption but hey, at least the scary man was talking. “Who, Ross?”
Gee shook his head.
He must mean her father. “My parents are dead.” Sadness hit her heart, and her lips curved downward. No matter how many years passed, the pain of their loss cut deep.
Gee studied her and after what seemed a century later, the confusing man lifted his can in a toast. “He was an honorable man.” He chugged the rest of his beer, crushed the can, and dropped it to the deck.
He freed another beer can from the bundle and popped the tab. “You resemble him.”
“I do,” she agreed. She’d spent many hours of her childhood staring at photos, memorizing every inch of her parents. Aunt Jessica liked to tell her she represented a perfect combo of her mom and dad, blessed with her dad’s green eyes and dark hair along with her mom’s milk-pale skin and small, curvy build.
She leaned forward. “Can you tell me about him? He died when I was six, so I don’t have many memories. I’d love to know about his life before he moved—”
“Why are you here?”
Man, did the big bear always act this way? She let the lid off her anger. “Are you always this rude?”
No reply, though she swore she saw amusement tweak one cheek before his expression shot to stone. Bet no one dared argue with him. Ever. She relaxed against her chair with a sigh of defeat. Fine, she’d play his way. After all, she needed the help, not him. “I came here because I have this shifting problem and I don’t know any wolves in Oregon. My dad, he left me a help list of sorts. With your name on it.”
Again the stony silence as the man swallowed more beer. “Explain.”
She followed suit, hoping hers would give her courage to continue. Phantom pain radiated through her spine and spread outward in a blanket of invisible needles. She didn’t want to talk about her shifts. Her body quaking and contorting, bleeding on the cold basement floor, her blood trailing through the small grated drain underneath her rib cage, the horrifying sound of her bones snapping and reshaping, her flesh ripping like shredded leaves. Her throat closed on a scream, and she squeezed her eyes shut, her pulse pounding loud in her ears.
A metallic crackling pulled her from the memory and planted her ass in the present where her fingers had fisted and smashed the beer can. She placed the mangled metal on the table, unclenching her jaw and sucking in a harsh breath. Just a memory. Not happening. She expelled her lungful of air. Breathe out the memory. Kick it to the curb. But the flashback had brought one thing into crystal clear focus—she didn’t want to experience a shift again. Ever. There would be no what if with Ross or the Wolf pack.
She glanced at Gee. He sat perfectly still, watching her. Waiting.
She licked her lips and looked out over the pine trees, up the mountainside, to the bright blue sky. Her gaze locked on a circling hawk, hunting prey, his smooth glide a balm on her nerves.
She could do this. “During the full moon, I shift. I try to fight it, but it’s too powerful. The air around me seems made of millions of electrified hands, diving inside me, ripping me apart, reshaping me from the inside out.” Probably sounded so stupid to him, but she had to continue.
She kept her gaze on the hawk. “I was thirteen the first time it happened. Thought I was dying. My aunt and a trusted friend—a paramedic—took care of me. After I shifted, they shot me full of tranquilizers. When I woke up, I was human again, but the pain was so bad I ended up in bed for days to recover.”
The hawk dove from the sky and disappeared into the trees. “The shifts worsened over time. And I always lost the fight.” She swallowed hard. “Always.”
Gee cleared his throat and rose from the lounger, pulling Darci’s attention from the trees. He pulled a beer from the pack, opened it, and placed it between her shaking hands.
“Thanks, Gee.”
He grunted and returned to his seat.
Three gulps of cold beer settled her nerves enough to press on. “Last month, the shift was the worst one yet. I prayed for death. I wanted my mom, my dad. I wanted it all to stop forever. So, I fought the moon magic with everything I had, harder than I’d ever fought it before and—”
Darci downed more beer though her stomach churned at the memory of her ribs cracking open, her organs spilling onto the cement underneath her. She fought the nausea gnawing at her insides, willing the beer to numb her, help her finish.
Gee had to understand. Had to help her make it stop for good. “I died. My heart stopped. And I died.”
Chapter Nine
His mate had died.
Shock froze Ross steps away from his little mate huddled on a patio chair, his hands tightening on the grocery bags. When he’d arrived home, he’d headed for the front door, but the sound of Darci’s voice combined with the scent of Bear shifter drifting to him had made him change course and walk along his wraparound deck to join them.
His steps had slowed when he heard Gee shooting her one-line prompts, and he’d stopped altogether as his little mate told her shif
ting story to Gee. She’d told Ross last night about her bad shifts, but he never imagined something so severe. Shifting had always come easily to him. To hear of the pain she’d endured for years made him want to roar in anger on her behalf then rush to her side, scoop her into his arms, and hold her tight.
She might die the next time she shifts. Terror shot into his gut.
Gee turned his head and stared at Ross but didn’t alert Darci to his presence. His little mate seemed unaware of his arrival. It was clear she rarely, if ever, relied on her Wolf senses. If she did, she would’ve scented him already, if not have heard his steps on the deck when he’d arrived.
She stared at the beer can in her grasp as if waiting for Gee to say something. When Gee remained silent, she continued. “My aunt said even though my heart had stopped, my body shifted to Wolf. Somehow, the change jolted me to life. A little bit, anyway. My heart stopped again when I returned to human. My aunt’s friend performed CPR. And here I am.” His mate took a long swig of her beer.
Gee grunted and drained his can, smashing the metal and dropping it next to another on Ross’s deck. “So, what’s the problem?” the messy bastard asked.
Ross scowled at Gee while his woman stared at the Werebear as if he possessed pebbles for brains. “What’s the problem? I died, Gee. I might die next time.”
When Gee merely stared, Darci slammed her can onto the table and surged to her feet, giving Ross a great view of her smooth, long legs and her round ass in her jean shorts. He had the sudden urge to rip out Gee’s eyes for staring at his woman.
Her hands fisted at her sides. “The full moon is only two nights away.”
Gee shrugged. “You prayed for death.”
She stomped her foot. “I don’t want to die, damn it. I want to live. I want it to stop. I want to be normal. I want—” Her voice broke on a sob, the sound rousing Ross to action.
Diamond Moon (Black Hills Wolves Book 12) Page 5