Indigo Moon

by Gill McKnight

  “Are you joining me?” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

  “Uh…” Isabelle’s cheeks burned. Her feet were cemented to the bathroom floor, while her brain struggled for words of apology for her intrusion.

  Ren turned off the faucet and stepped from the stall. Dripping water, she walked naked across the bathroom floor and slid past Isabelle, making sure their shoulders bumped.

  “It’s okay. I’m done anyway,” she said, and with a sly, crooked smile, she left.

  “Uh…” Isabelle mumbled at the steamed-filled room.

  Her body was still buzzing when she returned to the living room to light the fire. She cursed her stupidity in the bathroom, and then cursed Ren for teasing her. She hated the emotional vulnerability she felt around Ren. It seemed to permeate every layer of her existence…well, as much as she knew of it.

  Ren had rescued her, nursed her through a serious injury. Alluded to a caring relationship that Isabelle could not remember but sort of felt. And how could she deny the sexual tension that had coiled in her gut from that possessive first kiss to her practically slavering over the woman while she showered? Isabelle’s face flamed.

  She knelt by the fireplace, glad of a chore to take her mind off her salacious and highly inappropriate thoughts. It would take a little while, but she would soon have the cabin snug and cozy and make it a perfect little haven for her to while away another lonely evening.

  She raked out the dead fire embers. Ren had done a very poor job of cleaning the hearth.

  “I’m surprised she ever gets a fire to light if this is her idea of clearing out the ash,” she muttered.

  She hesitated. Wedged behind a charred log, in the far corner of the grate, lay the book Patrick had burned last night. Isabelle could just make out the word “Toyota” on the melted plastic cover. These were car papers. She reached for the booklet. Its innards fell away from the twisted plastic. They were badly scorched and unreadable. A few pages came away and clung to her fingertips like filmy cobwebs, the ink a spider’s scrawl. Her car papers! It had to be. Burned last night before her very eyes. What the hell was going on?

  Her hands came away blackened with ash and she remembered Ren’s sooty fingerprints all over the kitchen this morning. Ren hadn’t been cleaning the fireplace; she’d been rummaging among these burned remains. What had she been up to? Checking that the book was properly destroyed? Isabelle seethed at the deceit. How dare she destroy my stuff?

  The door opened and Ren walked in, dressed in old sweats, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. The pages in Isabelle’s hand exploded to dust in the draft of air that followed her. Isabelle looked at the ashy fragments in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it; all the evidence was gone before she’d had a chance to examine it.

  “Hey. I was going to light the fire for us.” Ren squatted on her heels beside her. She began to gather up kindling. “Look at your hands. They’re black with soot. Go wash and let me finish this.”

  Isabelle stared at her.

  “Why was Patrick burning my car papers?” she said.

  “What?” Ren’s whole posture stiffened, though she still bundled kindling into the fire grate as if nothing untoward was happening.

  “He burned my car documents last night. Right before my eyes, like I was some kind of idiot. And you told him to. I heard you just before I came into the room. You told him to burn them, and he did.” She could feel fury frothing up inside her. She had been trying so hard to piece together what little she knew. Running all over the place like a fool looking for clues, when all along they had been burning them right in front of her. How they must have laughed.

  Ren looked from Isabelle’s soot-black hands to the ashes in the hearth. She continued assembling the fire, her actions automatic, her face a mask.

  “Your car papers?” She tossed a match into the grate. The paper and kindling caught with a whoosh, the fire glow bathed her features and blazed across her eyes.

  “My documents. Mine!” Isabelle gave Ren a mighty shove and sent her rolling off her haunches and onto her backside on the floor. Ren growled and twisted back up, but Isabelle launched herself at her, throwing them both back onto the floor.

  “You bastard, you burned them.” She boiled over with rage, even as part of her looked on from afar, aghast at this loss of control. Ren’s arms wrapped round her, easily pinning her to her chest. “You played me for a fool.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ren said, unperturbed.

  “You said burn it and he did.” Isabelle tried to work herself free. She regretted her outburst now and wanted distance. Ren’s closeness made her even more agitated.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ren said again. “I didn’t tell him to burn your papers.” Her attempts at reasoning only made Isabelle more determined to get away. “Stay still. Isabelle, stop fighting me.”

  It was too much for Isabelle. She couldn’t corral or control this violent emotion. It shrieked through her like a banshee, rattling every bone in her body. Ren’s scent swamped her, seductive and dangerous. The heat of her body pulsed through their clothes, more urgent than when they had curled in bed together naked. Isabelle hissed in frustration at being thwarted yet again. How was she to ever know who she was if they kept hiding things, and burning things, and not answering her questions?

  The neck of Ren’s shirt pulled open, revealing her strong column of throat and the muscular sweep from her collarbone to her breastbone. Her skin was tanned, the rise of her chest lacerated with small raised scars.

  Isabelle struggled futilely against the arms around her. Her nose burrowed in the scented heat of Ren’s chest. Her mouth brushed the mesh of scars and her lips tingled. Saliva flooded her mouth. She bared her teeth and grazed along Ren’s skin. The chest muscles twitched and bunched at her touch. Ren smelled of forest ferns after rainfall, earthy and rich. She smelled of sunlight on warm fur, and spring glades carpeted with salmonberry and Indian plum.

  Isabelle buried her face deeper, soaking up the scent. She licked the skin stretched tight across Ren’s sternum. And then she bit. She bit down hard, lathering the captured skin with her tongue and growling deep in her throat like an animal.

  Ren bucked beneath her, then lay still, her hold slackening. Isabelle worried at the skin and sucked hard, her initial growl becoming a contented rumble. She was fully focused in marking the flesh, in claiming these old scars and all that history for herself. Ren’s skin was plump and hot with a salty sheen. The taste exploded in her mouth.

  Ren eased her hold and ran her hands down the curve of Isabelle’s back.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked quietly. Her hands rested on Isabelle’s hips, as if undecided whether to hold on to her or toss her aside at any moment.

  Isabelle reluctantly surrendered her mouthful of flesh. She didn’t know what she was doing. She kept her head lowered, her eyes fixed on the redness spreading across Ren’s chest. Her spittle covered the indents of her teeth marks. A bruise was already beginning to form. She panted lightly with a mixture of shame and delirious excitement. Her face reddened until it burned painfully. She had bitten Ren…actually bitten her. God, I must have rabies or something. She was a sad, sick woman.

  Ren rolled Isabelle onto her back on the floor and rose over her on all fours, bringing her face close until they were nose-to-nose. She was breathing heavily. Her eyes sparked sharply, like shards of crystal. Tendrils of damp hair as cold as mermaid’s fingers brushed Isabelle’s face. Isabelle could see the tremors running through Ren’s shoulders and down along her arms. Her mouth felt empty, her tongue and teeth useless—all of her was hollow. This was more than a need to bite Ren. She wanted to taste and take, to break the skin, to find a way inside and stay there.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?” Ren asked her again, quietly.

  Isabelle didn’t know what she was doing or what was happening to her. She was acting on an innate directive that drove her from
within. In answer, she reached up and bunched her hands in Ren’s long, wet mane, and taking great fistfuls, pulled Ren that last inch closer and kissed her.

  Isabelle wasn’t exactly sure why she felt compelled to start the kiss, but a microsecond later she was sure of one thing. She had no idea what to do. Maybe I’m not a lesbian after all? Yet here she was, glued to the face of a woman she had grabbed by the hair, bitten, and forced to kiss her. It didn’t get much more Neanderthal than that.

  And now, with the texture of Ren’s lips on hers, all her earlier exasperation and anger drained away. There was only this exquisite pressure and heat.

  How come their mouths fit so well together, yet apart looked so different? Hers with its thin upper lip and little scar, and Ren’s, so full and heavy, like lazy, overripe summer berries. The soft flesh of her plump lower lip was silky smooth. Isabelle darted the tip of her tongue along the velvety inner surface. Ren groaned, and Isabelle’s confidence surged, so she deepened the kiss until she drowned in it. She felt dizzy, and swamped and swirled in all directions; spun out like fine thread until she snapped. Her only hope was to find something solid and hang on to it. So she clung to Ren.

  Realizing Ren was letting her lead the kiss, she became braver, sucking on that luscious lower lip and trailing her hands across Ren’s shoulders and down her back. Her fingers twitched, fighting the urge to dig her nails in and mark. Her kiss deepened, she became hungrier, more demanding. She wanted it all, more, and more again—

  “Enough,” she said, breaking the kiss. Isabelle lay staring into the flushed face above her. Ren stared back, her gaze brooding and unfathomable.

  “It will never be enough,” Ren said.

  Isabelle shivered at the finality in the words. They were devastating in their truth. She began to wriggle out from under Ren, acutely aware of the chill once their bodies parted. She wasn’t sure how to respond to those words, so she threw herself into denial.

  “I don’t know why I grabbed you like that. I’m sorry.” Her gaze dropped to the red mark on Ren’s chest, just over her heart, and her shame and confusion deepened. “I’m…I’m so sorry I bit you. I…” She had no excuse. She had no idea why she’d done it.

  Ren cupped her face and drew their gaze level.

  “Never be ashamed of that,” she said. “It’s what makes us.”

  Her lips grazed the fluttering pulse of Isabelle’s throat. Isabelle’s hands came up to mesh in her hair as Ren’s mouth moved over her.

  “I know something about you.” Isabelle lifted her chin to be nuzzled. Ren’s lips rested over her thumping pulse.

  “Oh?” she murmured into the flesh. “And what’s that?”

  Isabelle’s kiss had sucked the very life out of her. Now Ren hovered over her, a quivering wreck, barely holding her weight on her elbows. Her body grazed the length of Isabelle’s and heat pulsed between them. Ren’s mouth flooded with so much need it burned her tongue.

  Isabelle gave an incoherent moan as Ren’s lips found another sweet spot. Ren’s jaw muscles bunched and tightened as she struggled to keep her muzzle down. The tightness in her face warned her how close she was to changing. Her feet were boiling hot—cramped and aching in her shoes—another sign her wolfside wanted to rise.

  “You know something?” she asked again, her lips moved over Isabelle’s silky throat. She darted the tip of her tongue out to taste. Isabelle tasted fresh and clean, like juniper, or new-mown hay. A delicious scent, but Ren was anxious now. What did Isabelle know?

  “Uh-huh.” Isabelle nodded. Ren waited. The time would soon come when the werefever would pass and Isabelle’s mind would clear of its protective fog. This brought a new kind of misery for the unprepared.

  “What do you know?” Her voice tightened as the beast inside struggled to take control.

  “I know you can’t lie. At least not to me. You can evade my questions, and you do, wonderfully well. You can even get angry and bang out of the room to avoid answering, but you never lie.”

  “I can’t lie to you,” Ren said, wary of where this was leading. Isabelle had already surprised her with her resourcefulness. She was a sneaky little thing, determinedly digging away for information. A true tracker. Ren was well aware the whole cabin had been tastefully ransacked the minute she’d walked out the door.

  Her lips trailed to a spot under Isabelle’s ear where her pulse fluttered delicately. Isabelle squirmed delightfully under her. A low growl rumbled in Ren’s chest. She was enthralled by Isabelle’s scent, stupefied by it, and happily uncaring because she knew Isabelle was becoming sensitive to her scent, too. Soon their scents would trigger each other. Soon they would bond so tight there would be nothing else.

  “You know all my best places.” Isabelle sighed. Ren nipped gently along Isabelle’s jaw and buried her nose in her hair to breathe in more of her.

  “All your places are best,” she said. She could lie with her face in Isabelle’s hair all day.

  “Why did you tell Patrick to burn my papers?”

  Ah, back to that then. “I didn’t.”

  “I heard you tell him to.”

  “You did not hear me tell him to burn your documents.”

  Isabelle stared at her for a long time, her blue eyes glinting through the bruising. Ren smiled inwardly at the scouring gaze, almost afraid to blink in case she somehow endorsed her supposed criminality. She held the stare, amused and proud at Isabelle’s audacity and perseverance. She was a determined problem solver, which could either bode well or ill for her, depending on the strength of Isabelle’s patience. If she took her time and trusted Ren, then she would make the jump to her new life easily. But that was the problem. Ren knew that deep down. Isabelle didn’t trust her. Oh, she wanted to. Ren could feel her trying hard. But in the end, Ren had to earn her trust all over again, and she willingly accepted that.

  “What happened to Joey?” The next question came fast.

  “Joey had a hunting accident.”

  “How? What happened?”

  “I wasn’t there at the time.”

  This was dangerous ground. Ren took a calming breath, but inside she struggled for clarity. She began to untangle herself and move away. Isabelle had a way of clouding her senses, and she had to stay alert while being bombarded with these types of questions.

  “Oh no you don’t.” Isabelle grabbed at her and spun them over so she now lay on top. A pleasurable growl rumbled in Ren’s chest. Isabelle’s bite still stung and Ren was lusty from it. In other circumstances they’d be crashing around the floor, sending furniture spinning. But not yet. Isabelle was still too weak and Ren had to be careful with her.

  “Don’t run away from me, Ren,” Isabelle said, her fingers fluttering against Ren’s cheek. Behind the cuts and bruises Ren saw uncertainty in her eyes, and her heart constricted. It should never have been like this.

  “I won’t.” She gazed up into eyes as sharp as a spring sky. We should have had a proper courtship. The thought flew into her head and crushed her. Ren would have loved to woo Isabelle, to steadily and surely win her, instead of living this…this mockery. “It’s you who’ll leave me,” she said.

  The words came out before Ren could censor them. Inwardly, she squirmed at such a maudlin premonition. It had been her growing fear every day since Isabelle arrived.

  Isabelle’s eyes darkened. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she held Ren’s gaze and lowered her head until their lips touched. Then she whispered against them, her breath exhaling into Ren’s mouth, “I have to.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Her appalling truth hung between them. Nothing she could do would diminish the sting of her words. Her mouth cupped Ren’s in a deepening kiss. As if she could shield them from their sadness. Ren’s arms wrapped around her, her grip tight, almost panicked, and Isabelle knew her blow had landed hard. She could never take back those words, so she closed her eyes and poured her regret into the kiss.

  When she opened her eyes again, Ren was st
aring back. Her eyes shone like wet obsidian, every emotion flickered across their surface. Isabelle’s heart caught. She had never been looked at that way, with such yearning, yet challenge. The intensity froze her. These were hunter’s eyes, impossible to break away from. Ren reached up and cupped her face.

  “When you leave I will follow you. I will find you. Every breeze will carry your scent. Every bent blade of grass, every rustling leaf will betray you. I will hunt you, and I will find you, and I will keep you. You are mine.”

  Ren’s kiss was not hesitant or proper. She held Isabelle’s head in her hands and ravished her mouth. A growl resonated deep in her throat, making Isabelle tingle through to her backbone. Ren crouched over her. Her curtain of hair delicately flowed over Isabelle’s face and throat. Isabelle buried her fingers in its damp silkiness and twisted great fistfuls. Their eyes locked, bold and daring. Isabelle gave an extra tug, pulling hard. She bared her teeth in a sly smile. Ren was hers, too.

  Ren’s growl rumbled with pleasure at the display. Her eyes glittered and her white teeth flashed from behind blood-red lips. With a throaty growl she covered Isabelle. Her fingers traced the nape of neck and throat. She followed the trail of her fingertips with a burning tongue. Her fingers hooked in Isabelle’s shirt collar and she tore it apart and licked the revealed flesh. Isabelle’s small breasts quivered; her nipples hardened. She released her hold on Ren’s hair and clawed the shirt off her back with grunting satisfaction.

  Bare-chested, they rubbed against each other. Isabelle ran her hands over Ren’s scars.

  “These are beautiful,” she murmured and run her tongue across the ridges on Ren’s chest, across her own mark. She practically purred with content. And then, she froze as a sudden anger flashed through her. She glared at Ren.

  “These marks. Did other lovers make them?” Her voice was acid.

  Ren laughed. “No. These are a collection of scars from all the beasts I’ve helped. I do dangerous work.” Her smile showed her amusement at Isabelle’s irrational jealousy.