Between Moons (The Cursed Series Book 1)

by Lilly Cain

  3

  It was only six o’clock in the morning. Helen stared at her wardrobe and sighed. How did she pick out clothes that said ‘Yes, I’m tough, and good at what I do, but I’m also a woman outside the office, not that I care if you notice’? That was a complicated message and said something about her interest in David that she could little afford. On the practical side, it would also have to be something she could stomp around the potential development site in, and that might be a little rough.

  At last she decided on a semi-casual ensemble that consisted of a single-breasted linen blazer and silk shell top, and contrasting blue jeans and leather ankle boots. The blazer and shell were a pale, frosted-blue, and looked great with her black hair. Even better, the jeans made her long legs a focal point, without resorting to another skirt. The whole selection process had destroyed her closet. When was the last time she’d taken this much time with her appearance? The answer came quickly. The last time was the night of the annual company party, and that was something she didn’t want to think about just now.

  She dressed quickly, efficiently. A quick trip to the mirror and a few flicks of her brush tamed her wild hair. Make-up was minimal. She certainly wasn’t going to try to encourage the man. She had a feeling he’d be doing that all on his own, despite his words about business first.

  Her own inclinations were going to be firmly squashed, at least when it came to David. She reached absently for her favorite silver bracelet, thinking about his broad shoulders. A sudden burst of pain shot through her hand and she screamed in both frustration and agony as she threw the offending piece of jewelry across the room.

  Helen fisted her burning hand, fingers wrapped tightly against the pain there. She squeezed her eyes tight as she stood in front of the mirror. Those damn yellow eyes! A sob escaped her lips. It didn’t matter what she wore, or what she looked like, now. Of course business would come first. It would come last, too. There was no way she was ever going to have a personal relationship again, not in this condition. She opened her eyes. The golden color was still there. She opened her hand. Although the pain was gone, a blistered patch of red glared up at her from her palm.

  * * *

  Chill air crept down the back of David’s neck. He glanced around quickly. Where the hell was he? An intense growling sounded close by and his heart raced. He was in the woods, but where? How? The trees around him cast deep black shadows, although the moon glowed above—a full round circle of silver light.

  The tree limbs stood bare of leaves; layers of snow trimmed each branch and the ground around him. The low-pitched, rumbling growl reached him again, and the sensation of being watched competed with the cold air to send shivers down his back.

  Slowly, he turned in a circle, scanning the darkness between the pools of moonlight. Something moved. He caught another flicker off to his left. There was more than one of the creatures in the woods, watching him. The beating of his heart seemed louder now than the crunch of the snow at his feet. The only other noises were the harsh gasps he made as he tried to get enough air, and the soft growls he continued to hear from the trees. Four sets of golden eyes shone out at him from the shadows.

  A crashing noise reverberated through the clearing where David stood. He whirled toward the racket, shocked by the sound. A flash of white preceded his realization that what he was seeing was a woman. She fled like a wounded deer through the forest, breaking small branches as she went and crying out in pain and fear. She rushed toward him, and he grasped then that the white color was her naked flesh.

  The woman raced closer, her dark hair streaming out behind her. Her body was fantastic. She had long supple limbs, shapely breasts and a narrow waist that drew his eyes down toward her feminine core. Then he realized her hands and feet were coated in mud. Welts covered her legs and arms. She looked at him through her pain, and cried soundlessly for help. It was Helen Mathews.

  Her eyes reflected the same golden color as those from the darkness in the woods. David whipped around, checking for the creatures that had been watching him. There was no sign of anything, but howls called from where Helen had breached the woods, sounding a call for the hunt.

  She reached him and grabbed at his hands. “Run!” She panted the words out. “Run for your life!” She dragged him with her, and then stumbled. David looked back as he heard the howling start again. Great gray wolves stalked them, growing closer, grinning in their toothy way at prey that could not escape. He turned to Helen. She was grinning now too, her eyes golden in the moonlight. He dropped her hand, and she began to howl. He ran, ran and…

  David woke, gasping for breath. He clutched at the bedding, sweat drenching his body and dampening the soft cotton sheets. He sat up, and nearly died on the spot as he took in the wolf across from his bed in the early morning light. Then he slumped to the mattress as he recognized it as the poster he’d purchased from the National Conservation Organization.

  “Holy crap. Wolves and naked women equal too much business and not enough sex.” Still, his heart pounded and he could remember the vision of Helen, beautiful, naked, and in pain.

  It had to be their sexually charged meeting last night and the anticipation of their meeting this morning that caused the dream. Mix that liberally with the mystery of her unexplained absence and a dose of the wildlife channel before bed last night and bang—one hair-raising subconscious experience. The problem with that little theory though, was that it was obvious that she was on his mind, and under his skin. That hadn’t happened in a long time. Not since Sharon. And Sharon was dead.

  He rolled out of bed, the soft sheets falling away from his naked body. A slight chill ran down his spine as cool air touched drying sweat. A shower first, then coffee, and then he’d tackle his approach to Ms. Mathews. If he could get her to admit what she’d been doing last week some of the mystery would disappear. As less of an enigma, she would be less of a challenge and less of an interest, at least on a personal level. He hoped. While a challenge was good, he didn’t need a woman who would want to take over and rule his life.

  * * *

  Most of the proposed site was swamp. Not the sort that wildlife experts would call home to any important species though; this mess was caused by humans alone and was new and raw, no doubt caused by the construction somewhere further up the river, probably last year’s series of new strip-malls.

  Helen scanned the brush and caught movement here and there, but found little of interest. Windborne trash, mostly. She kept her breathing shallow. There was a scent of dead something nearby, and although some small part of her insisted she investigate, sniff it out, she kept her feet firmly planted on dry ground. She wouldn’t let the change direct her if she could stop it.

  She couldn’t help her reaction, though, when her ears caught the sound of an approaching vehicle. Her body swiveled toward the sound and her stance altered to a more challenging posture. She resisted the urge to open her mouth to taste the air, but inhaled deeply as a man stepped from the now-parked Jeep. David. His scent carried to her on the breeze and her posture changed again as a tingle of pleasure slid through her body, causing her breasts to peak with interest. Damn.

  He was dressed as casually as she. His jeans were molded to his legs—tight around thick thighs and narrow hips. An open, lightweight navy jacket rippled with the breeze, doing little to stop the air from lifting it away from his torso. Under the jacket he wore a collared Polo-style shirt, unbuttoned, in royal blue. At the open neck a tiny swatch of thick dark body hair peeked through, hinting at a larger, rougher patch below. Helen licked suddenly dry lips.

  “Hey,” he called out to her, still some distance away.

  She waved and turned back to look again at the site, noting the highway in the background that would provide access. The seniors’ village would be to the left, giving some of the new residents a nice view of the river.

  Pretending indifference to David’s approach was difficult when she could hear his sneakers against the dead grass and dirt groun
dcover. The swish of his cotton jeans rubbing together at his upper thighs. Her body hummed as it raced to interpret the signals of the approaching male. If I concentrated, could I hear his heartbeat? Better not try.

  “Well, you beat me here. What do you think?” David’s voice carried to her as he paced the last few steps to reach her side.

  “I think it’s going to work. Better than that, it’s going to work well, both for the people who use the facilities, and for Multoma. Since you already own part of the land, it’s going to work well for you too.” She turned to look at him and saw the excitement in his eyes. “This is your biggest development yet, isn’t it?”

  “Yup.” He grinned. “Not as big as your last creation, but I’m proud of it.”

  She felt her lips thin and tried to prevent a frown from appearing on her face. Her last big project had had a few too many complications. Certainly one that was beyond unexpected; it was ruining her life.

  “Have you made sure there are no claims to the land? Even from people who don’t own it, but perhaps just use it? Have you checked the history of the land?” she pressed. “No animal rights people, no Native Americans who hold meetings here, no summer fairs or anything?”

  He cocked his head to one side, obviously puzzled. The question of who might use the land other than owners wasn’t usually addressed, particularly this sort of vacant land to the side of the city proper.

  “Why? Have you heard something? Is there going to be a problem because it’s a wetland? It hasn’t been a swamp for long; I don’t think we’ll see any conservationists here. It’s just scrub. That’s what makes it so perfect for the project.” He rubbed one had over his jaw line.

  “I want a complete report on usage before Multoma offers any contract. I had some problems with the Detroit plan that I don’t want repeated.” She crossed her arms.

  He stared at her, his eyes seeming to try to penetrate the protection of her dark glasses.

  “What problem did you have exactly? I never heard about anything.”

  She licked her lips. How much could she say? “We had a group of itinerates who used a small parcel of the land complain that we’d broached their rights as squatters. They claimed a history of use of the land as a group, much like a Native American claim to sacred land.”

  “Obviously it didn’t hold up in court. How did you keep it so quiet?”

  “It never made it to court. The group chose not to take it to the papers, and we sure weren’t about to. So, I want this land checked. I don’t want any more groups mad at me, or rather at Multoma. I don’t want anyone out there ready to throw curses or try to ruin our reputation.” She turned from him, her shoulders stiffening under what she was sure was the pressure of his eyes on her back. That shouldn’t have slipped out that way. Now he was going to be curious.

  * * *

  Curses? What the hell was that supposed to mean? David stared at her rigid body. He was used to dealing with some unusual requests for assurances on development deals, particularly when any legal entanglements might be involved, but her reaction was a bit extreme. Just what had happened in Detroit?

  He watched her for a moment more, but she didn’t move. She seemed to be waiting for him to say something. His eyes lingered on her long black hair. Draped in a braid down her back, it pointed like an arrow to the soft curves of her buttocks visible under the edge of her jacket.

  Finally it came to him, a small detail. He’d heard a bit of a water cooler joke about the woman in front of him. At the last Multoma bash, Helen Mathews had not only been cheered as a shark by her own president, she’d been screamed at by some old woman who had crashed through security. Some party.

  “That crazy woman at your party…” he began.

  She whipped around, her face aflame. “So you heard about that?” She leaned forward aggressively, unfolding her arms and fisting her hands. Her jaw thrust toward him. Her face, from under the dark shades, wore a grimace of anger. “Heard about the Gypsy curse? Heard I was shaking in my boots after some nut called me names? Well, that has nothing to do with this. Nothing to do with the way I do business. I just don’t want to have any more possible legal problems pop up unexpectedly on one of my projects.”

  “Whoa, hold it.” He raised his hands between them. “I didn’t hear anything, just that there had been some nut at the party. Was she part of the group that threatened the Detroit deal?”

  “They didn’t threaten anything. The deal went through just fine. The Rom wanted to keep their meeting space, but it was put to a better use. That hospital serves thousands. I got the job done.”

  He reached out to touch her, to break the mood. She stepped back before his hand could reach her linen jacket.

  “Let’s go. The site will be fine. As soon as you bring the usage report, we’ll amend the contract as we discussed last night and present it to you. After you approve, we’ll send it to the inspectors and have an environmental report run. We don’t need to be here any longer. Besides, that dead rat is really beginning to stink.”

  She stalked off, her back ramrod straight. David blinked after her. She was a bundle of nerves. What the hell had that been all about? Gypsies? He looked around and took a deep breath. The air was fresh and cool, the late spring air untainted. What dead rat? He needed Multoma, but did he need a crazy woman for a partner?

  He paced after her, reaching his Jeep moments after she slammed the door shut on her SUV. They were supposed to go for lunch after visiting the site, but really hadn’t discussed where. If he didn’t say something to her right now, he knew she’d take it as an excuse to bow out of any further time alone with him. If they were going to work together he had to know whatever the hell was going on with her wouldn’t affect the job. He turned back to her vehicle and walked to the driver’s door. As he approached he caught her image in the side view mirror. She had her shades off and was rubbing her eyes.

  There was nothing worse than a woman with tears in her eyes.

  A quick knock on the window brought those odd golden eyes up to meet his. They were molten gold, the hot color of liquid metal. Hot enough to heat his blood even through the glass. She rolled the window down and raised her eyebrows.

  “How about we go to an early lunch at the Apple Barrel? I love their pie.” He tried for his most charming smile and watched her gloomy expression become even grimmer.

  “I’m not getting personally involved with you, Mr. Sherman. Last night I may have given you the wrong impression. I don’t mix business with pleasure. And it’s too early for lunch.”

  Her rejection was strong and dismissive, her voice cold. If it weren’t for the misery in her eyes and the understanding that she was hiding something, something to do with her earlier reaction to his mention of the crazy woman at the Multoma party, he would have stopped right there. Instead, his interest was piqued further. So much for removing the air of mystery about her this morning and getting back to business. Ms. Matthews was simply more challenging than he had thought.

  “I have another development I’m considering, a mountain resort. I’d like to discuss some prelims with you, as a separate arrangement with Multoma. We could do that over pie. And we’ll call it brunch, not lunch.” He smiled again, although part of him seriously objected about sharing information on another project when they hadn’t even signed the contract for the first one.

  Her mouth worked and she bit her lip. Was the decision really so hard? She must really have something to hide from him. But she looked so close to the edge… He tried again. “It’s a spa-slash-retreat. Something really decadent. Something just for pleasure.”

  “Something I’m sure you know all about,” she murmured. She bit her lip again, an unconscious gesture that heated him to the bone, the flash of her sharp white teeth against her blood red lips.

  “Business is pleasure. Do you really want to give up the satisfaction we could bring each other?”

  4

  She was definitely a weak woman. Brunch together was such a bad id
ea. But she let herself be convinced on the pretext of the business to come today. Really, it was for the chance to feel normal for a few minutes. He didn’t know everything about her. Not that her few friends or associates had more than a clue or two as to the problem she faced, but he hadn’t met her before the change and wouldn’t be able to see how different she’d become.

  For one thing, she ate a lot more. Brunch was such an easy meal to tuck into: bacon and pancakes and muffins, sausages, croissants, and omelets. She tried to make it less obvious and loaded the plate with protein which called to her more anyway, but he didn’t seem to notice. He ate his own meal with gusto, unconcerned as men always seemed to be about eating in public. And he was going to eat apple pie after this? He had to be joking.

  She took a sip of coffee and nearly spit it out. When had coffee become so disgusting? Just another change that the Rom had cursed her with. She clenched her fists under the table and put her cup down quickly before she cracked it.

  “Problem?” David had put down his fork after cleaning his plate. How long had he been finished? Had he seen her reaction to coffee? Did she have to worry about every change in her expression and every single thing she did from now on?

  Maybe coming here had been a worse mistake than she’d thought.

  “No, just bad coffee. I’m thinking of giving it up anyway.”

  He picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “Tastes good to me.”

  He seemed to be watching her pretty carefully. Who could blame him? Who would want to go into business with someone like her now? He probably thought she was crazy, the way she was acting.