Crave The Night by Michele Hauf, Sharon Ashwood, Lori Devoti & Patti O'Shea

by Michele Hauf

  She looked up, a sudden look of mischief in her eyes. “It’s a good thing we’re far away from anyone else. The dancing can get a bit noisy.”

  Rafe imagined a forest full of drunken, frolicking gargoyles, and backed away from the image as quickly as possible. The thought of Lila dancing in the moonlight glades was quite a different prospect.

  She looked out the window at vast blue sky with the air of someone making a careful decision. “Are you hungry?”

  “Sure, I could eat.”

  She gave him a sidelong glance that was almost shy, and pushed back her chair. “Follow me.”

  Leading him through a different door, she went down a spiral staircase that ended in the room nearest the hot tub. Floor to ceiling windows covered one wall, showing the view of the water and the mountains in the distance. The silver ribbon of the Owl River linked the lake and the foothills like a long, sinuous leash.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asked, pausing near the window.

  “Yes, it sure is.” But Rafe was looking at her still form, as slender and tall as a rush by the riverbank. He was supposed to be getting information out of her, but he was getting dazzled in the process. Her sheer loveliness tore at him, a constant ache that had a little to do with her magic, and much to do with his natural desires. He stood next to her, barely an inch between them. He could feel each one of her breaths and see how the sunlight played on the soft architecture of her throat as she spoke.

  By the way she stared at the horizon, she didn’t belong indoors any more than he did. They both were creatures of the field and wood. If only we could stop pretending and run for the wilds. He imagined taking her in the long, waving grass of the fields. In the fall it would be as pale a gold as her hair, her skin luminous in the fading autumn sun.

  But they were tied by fear and magic. The only way out was past the steel door she’d built around her reasons for being here. He’d barely caught a glance of the woman behind the triple locks.

  He had to be careful. Even in the short time they had been talking, he was losing sight of the basics: he was her prisoner. He was trying to learn enough to resolve this hellish situation. Maybe there was a way they could both walk away in one piece. She seemed so damned vulnerable. Pickle fork. Remember the pickle fork.

  And focus on what she could do—had done—to other Pack members. His mind flashed to his father, Darak, the town. What was going on while he was here, about to have lunch with the enemy? A wave of frustration and impatience mixed with his attraction, making a conflicting brew of emotions.

  Stay on track and keep the information flowing. “Do your people ever have contact with the other species?”

  “As I said, some of the younger fey do.” She turned to look at him, squinting a little against the light. “It is a mixed blessing, the quiet of the woods. It can be isolating. I remember my first look at the human schools. They were so huge, and so filled with people. I was appalled and delighted. In a single instant, I knew I had to go there.”

  “And when you arrived?”

  She gave a self-deprecating smile. “I was hopeless at first.”

  He touched her arm, keeping the gesture casual. Gaining her confidence. “You?”

  This time, she didn’t pull away at his advance. “I’d never seen most of the objects around me. I remember discovering highlighters and thinking they were the most beautiful, marvellous inventions ever, like exclamation points packed in a tube. I barely understood computers. I nearly failed the first term until one of the human girls took pity on me despite the mockery of her classmates. She helped me adapt.”

  He tried to imagine anyone mocking Lila, but couldn’t.

  She shrugged and turned back to the view. “It was the happiest time of my life. I learned so much from her, including the fact that there are kind people willing to share their potato chips and pizza even when they’re broke.”

  Rafe studied Lila, trying to envision her happy. “Do you stay in touch?”

  “A little. She’s married now.” She sounded wistful. “I loved my human friends. I wanted a part in their busy, colorful world. It was bursting with interest for me, challenging everything I knew. I hurled myself into it, awkward though I was. Though I still am.”

  He pondered the image for a moment. A girl who loved friends and excitement, one prepared to throw over convention and follow her own star. That’s who Lila was once. How did she get to be the dangerous, frightened woman he’d found here?

  “What did your family think about all this?”

  “They did not understand the appeal.”

  “You were the rebel in the family?”

  “Not the only one. My sister, Rosemund, formed a scandalous attachment to a werebear.”

  Despite himself, Rafe chuckled. “The girls, they do love their teddy bears.”

  “I had a partiality for the football team. In general.” She gave him a sly smile. “But then my sister kept her trophy. I was more interested in catch and release.”

  Rafe felt his eyebrows rise. “Obviously, I went to the wrong college.”

  Her eyes twinkled, giving her fib away. Trickster fey.

  For a moment, it was like he was looking at a different Lila. One who was alive, vibrant, and full of excitement for the future. An odd shock of recognition hit him. In another time and place, he could fall in love with this woman.

  Her smile grew wider. “So there is my life story. Now you can stop asking questions and tell me what you would like for lunch.”

  Something squirmy from the pet store? A nice, raw flank steak? “Just a sandwich would be fine.”

  “Wait here,” she said, heading off to yet another part of the rambling house.

  Rafe looked around. The room was large and airy with a pale pine floor and large, comfortable-looking furniture grouped around a fireplace. Near the window stood a small white table and two chairs. It looked like a room people used for themselves instead of for formal entertaining. There was even a painting on one wall—the image was formless and abstract, but splashes of greens and muted reds made it stand out. It was the one thing he’d seen with some color.

  Then he understood. Lila had taken him to the part of the house that was her personal space. There was even a stack of books on an end table. He’d read some of the same titles. Apparently they shared a weakness for spy thrillers.

  She hadn’t talked nearly as much as he had, but in other ways she was revealing herself. That meant she trusted him. The thought made his chest hurt. What’s she doing here, tangled up with Masterson?

  His exploration brought him to an open window, one of the tall kind that could be used as a doorway to the patio beyond. Through it, he could smell the warm stone and the tingling wash of pine on the breeze. There were more tables and chairs, spangled by light glittering from the pool. All it needed was people. He was used to his large family, always with kids, always with voices raised to be heard over the roar of conversation. This house was so damned quiet.

  Tentatively, he raised a hand to reach through the window to the swath of sunshine beyond.

  His palm touched something as hard as glass. Its temperature was the same as the air around him, but the unyielding surface was slick and solid. A thrill of fear rushed through him. He’d promised not to leave the house, but surely that didn’t imprison him completely? Even from the garden?

  Rafe pushed, putting all his weight, and then all his muscle against it, straining until his arms shook. It didn’t budge. He was trapped, well and truly unable to touch the world beyond the bland white walls. No, this is impossible for a wolf to stand!

  How am I going to protect my Pack? Wild panic fountained up, squeezing his ribs until his lungs refused to fill with air. Rafe paced from window to window, throwing them open and testing himself against each possible route of escape. By the time he had circled the perimeter of his invisible cage, sweat slicked his skin, cold with the need to run away.

  Frustration peaked as he got back to the original window. He
backed up twenty paces, eying the apparently empty space. He took a running start, piling up speed and kicking from the hip.

  The force of the blow knocked him from his feet, but nothing gave.

  It was no good. You made a vow in the presence of a fey. He’d just become another casualty of Lila’s magic. Animals chewed off their own limbs to escape a trap. He didn’t even have that option. He was stuck.

  Rafe scrambled to his feet, almost dizzy with the need to fight back.

  Calm, calm, calm. He reined in his skittering nerves, forcing them under control. Running won’t help. There’s nowhere to go.

  He stood mute and stiff as Lila returned with a tray of food and coffee, arranging it all on the table by the window.

  “I can’t get out,” he said, hearing the tremor in his voice.

  “I know.” She kept setting out the food and drink. “I heard you.”

  The weirdly domestic moment made his head hurt. He was a prisoner, but she served him with her own hands. She wanted him to coerce his people into giving up their home, but she listened with bated breath to every story of their small-town lives. He could feel her fear and loneliness, but she had all the power. Beautiful and terrible, she held him.

  “Did you understand what I said?” he ventured, struggling to keep his voice light. “I’m trapped.”

  “You traded yourself for your father. I know you haven’t forgotten that.” She sat down, gesturing for him to take his chair.

  His temper lurched, filling his voice with rage. “Do you have any idea what it feels like?”

  “No.” The look she gave him was filled with pain. “No. But my sisters have told me.”

  “Are they prisoners?” He forced himself to sit down, though his limbs tingled with the need to move.

  “They gave up a lot to help me come here.”

  Her oblique answers fuelled his fury. “Like what?” he shouted.

  She bowed her head, her gaze fixed on her plate. “I don’t want to talk about that. We were having a pleasant conversation. Tell me more about your nephew. Tell me more about anything.”

  He picked up a glass, but in a twist of anger, he squeezed until it shattered in his hand. Glass and water splattered the table, a thin stream of blood dribbling from his fingers. “I can’t. I tried but I can’t pretend anymore. I can’t eat with the woman who threatens my wolves. Who has me caged!”

  “Look,” she said, her mouth twisting down. She stared at the blood, her face turning a sickly white. “I don’t want to hurt your Pack. I really don’t. But I’m not going to apologize for trying everything I can to save my own family.”

  He wiped the blood from his hand onto his napkin. It stung like fire, the bright red feathering into the pristine fabric.

  She flinched. “Here. Let me do that.”

  He snatched his hand away. “I can manage.”

  Anger flickered in her eyes, but it collapsed almost at once. “I know I’ve done everything possible to make me your enemy. I don’t expect you to forgive me. I meddled with vows and magic when I was drowning in anger, and now . . . one way or the other, I’ll be the one who pays.”

  Rafe tried to untangle what she was saying. Sadness poured off her like a smoky perfume. She crumpled her own napkin into a ball, unable to meet his eyes.

  She cleared her throat, drawing herself up in her chair. “That doesn’t mean I’m not serious about needing Wolf Creek. We can play the get-to-know-you-game, and it’s lovely, but it won’t change anything. I like you—a lot—and I understand your position, but I can’t give up. Not yet. Not while I can still fight.”

  Rafe snarled with frustration, a low rumble that ripped from deep in his chest.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, rising from the table. “Whatever you think of me, know that’s the truth.”

  She started toward the door, then paused, not bothering to turn around. Her spine straightened, as if she were gathering her nerve. “You can finish your lunch here. Feel free to sleep in any bedroom you like. As you can see, there’s no way you can leave.”

  Rafe jumped up. “Lila! This doesn’t solve anything.”

  Lila wheeled to face him. Her devastated expression ground into Rafe’s soul.

  His mouth went dry, his gut suddenly hollow with the hopelessness of their positions. “Lila . . .”

  She took two steps toward him and then reached up to lay her hand on his cheek. Her touch was cool and gentle, feather-soft. Rafe felt it deep inside him, not simply on his skin but all the way to his core.

  “I see you struggling so hard, working against such odds.” When she spoke, her voice was so soft he could barely hear it. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. I need what you have, and I don’t know how to make you give it to me. Not without feeling worse than I already do. The only thing left is a sacrifice, and it will either be yours or mine.”

  With that, her hand slipped away. Rafe was left staring down at her, speechless with a wild sorrow. She was adamant, but he couldn’t accept her words. He’d seen flashes of who she really was. Surely there had to be another path to follow.

  He grasped her arms, pulling her to him. Her eyes flared, but she didn’t pull back. His lips met hers with all the force of his outrage. She made a noise of protest, but it soon softened to something else, a low, throaty cry of hunger. The sound of it went straight to his belly, melting his body in a painful heat. She tasted like no female he had ever known, sweet and tart at once like the honey of a citrus flower. He deepened the kiss, plundering the softness of her mouth, feeling the soft sigh of her breath on his skin.

  For that moment, as long as the kiss lasted, she was his. All was simple. There was no trickery or plots, no one pulling their strings.

  He felt the moment she responded, leaning in, adding her own soul to the exchange. As they moved, finding new angles, her long lashes brushed his cheek. The delicacy of the touch moved him, making him fold her tighter in the circle of his arms.

  When he finally broke away, they were both short of breath. Neither spoke.

  Lila stroked his cheek again, her thumb tracing the sensitive skin of his lips. Then she put one forefinger to his mouth, silencing him.

  “Let’s leave it like this. Unspoiled.” She leaned in, sealing her words with a soft, quick kiss, and left the room.

  Chapter Six

  Since when has it been the girl who didn’t want to talk about it afterward?

  Rafe’s entire being felt bruised. He’d kissed her out of need and frustration, but that had only fuelled his desire for her. He felt like an engine about to burst its valves.

  He’d spent the rest of the day prowling the house and avoiding Lila, who was clearly avoiding him. For a time he’d sat with the sleeping prisoners, but mostly he had to keep moving, testing every door and window like a dog whining to get out.

  He adored her. He hated her. She fascinated him. Eventually he’d settled on a bedroom as far as possible from her corner of the house. It faced the direction of Wolf Creek.

  This room had a bed and a desk. He sat in the desk chair and glared out the window, watching the azure sky turn to an indigo dusk. His watch had stopped since he entered the fey-built house but, since it was only the end of summer, the hour had to be late. He hadn’t heard the servants moving around for at least an hour, though he had no illusions that there wasn’t something prowling the halls. He’d firmly shut the bedroom door, jamming a second chair under the handle.

  He’d come to two conclusions in the course of the day—besides the fact that Lila kissed like a teenaged wolfboy’s stormiest fantasy. First, he was absolutely a prisoner and second, Lila’s family history held the key to unlocking this mess. As the baby of the family, she had gone her own way until something happened. That mysterious event made her older sisters sacrifice a lot so that Lila could be here in Wolf Creek. That was what kept Lila glued to her purpose.

  Family involvement wasn’t entirely surprising. Few things were stronger motivators. Talking to Lila about his childho
od had sharpened his need to protect his own kin. If he got out of this mess in one piece, he’d consider his wild oats sown. Maybe think about starting a family. Be there for when his Dad was ready to let a few things go.

  Strange how that future—the one he’d always expected—now felt oddly incomplete. Maybe it was because he’d kissed a fey. Maybe that would make him crazy for the rest of his life. La Belle Dame and all that.

  A rapping on the window glass snapped him out of his broodfest. The room had grown dark. Rafe blinked the night into focus, only to see Darak’s battle-scarred face floating in the night sky. He pulled open the window.

  “Fido’s balls, talk about nightmare visions.”

  Darak leaned his elbows on the sill, giving him a fangy smile. He looked perfectly comfortable, clinging to the wall like a gigantic bat. “That any way to treat your good fairy?”

  “Don’t talk to me about fairies.”

  “Been having fun, eh?”

  “There’ve been moments exactly as much fun as sticking your hand down a live garbage disposal. How’s my dad?”

  “Pissed off, but otherwise healthy. He’s ready to tear off your tail for putting yourself in danger for his sake.”

  “Figures. Never could say thanks.”

  “He’s talking all-out Pack aggression. The only question in his mind is how many allies to call in.”

  Rafe swore softly. “No frackin’ way. Numbers don’t matter against magic. There’ll be too many casualties. Plus there are still hostages here.”

  “You’re his kid. That trumps everything. He can’t sit on his backside, and he can’t surrender. It’s just not in him.”

  “Tell him to wait.”

  Darak made a face. “I’ll try. You’re okay, right?”

  “Sure. I’m just stuck here. Like you said, the vow became real.” Rafe poked the invisible shield just inches in front of Darak’s nose.