by Faye Avalon
Knowing exactly what she needed to take the edge off this tension, Connie stood and rummaged in her bag. She pulled out her most functional underwear—a black sports bra and black sensible panties. Despite that Tor had told her she had sole use of the pool, Connie changed into the underwear, wrapped a toweling robe she found in the en suite around her, and headed downstairs.
The villa felt incredibly still as she crept silently down, and she couldn’t help but be relieved when she found no lights on or any sense of anyone still awake. She opened the door to the basement, taking care to close it again before switching on the lights for the staircase, and padded down to the pool.
After testing the water temperature with her toe and finding it as pleasantly warm as it had been earlier, she shrugged off the robe. The soft lighting threw shadows across the marble walls and floors, and beyond the huge windows where a fat moon glistened over the steady surface of the lake beyond.
Walking around the edge of the pool, she crossed to the windows and looked up. Was he out there? Somewhere in the forests beyond? He’d said that shifting into wolf form wasn’t controlled by the phases of the moon, but surely it was affected by it? All animal life was affected by the moon’s cycles, even humans. She remembered reading that once.
A thousand questions fought for attention, and she had the overwhelming urge to ask Tor every one of them. She knew he would tell her, knew that he was serious when he’d said he would answer any questions she had. That he would never lie to her.
He’d lied to her once, of course—but then had he? It was more an omission than an outright lie. And considering the subject matter, it was hardly surprising he’d put off telling her for as long as he could.
Lord, but her head ached with all this thinking.
Suddenly chilled, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms and walked back to the edge of the pool. Time to work off some of the energy pulsing in her veins, drive her body to the limits so that she had no energy left for the questions to haunt her. Damn it, but she needed some respite from the constant throb of confusion.
Walking up the few steps to the dive board, she sucked in a huge breath, closed her eyes, and took a dive into the clear water. The impact cleared her head of everything for a few glorious seconds as she powered down to the bottom of the pool. When she emerged, she kicked up onto her back and floated allowing her breathing to steady. Beyond the glass roof stars sparkled in the clear night sky, and that breathtaking moon seemed to taunt her.
Again, she wondered if Tor was outside, somewhere in the dense woods and forests, working off the same kind of tension that continued to disturb her. Images came, of when she had seen him that night in the New Forest. She had been shocked, terrified, but knowing what she did now the images of him in wolf form were less impeded by fear.
Connie closed her eyes as her thoughts went back to that night.
After they’d made love, she had woken alone in their bed. It was after two-thirty in the morning, and she’d gone downstairs in search of him. The back door from the cottage into the forest was unlocked, and she’d gone outside expecting to find Tor there. Sounds came from the forest, and she remembered thinking how tranquil it was. Then she heard a snap, twigs breaking, and had turned.
It was then she’d seen the wolf.
Her heart had stopped and then beat so rapidly she felt heady. Something like wonder slipped through her at the incredible sight, but then time seemed to stand still. Their gazes clashed. Held. She’d blinked, several times, while her senses spun and she’d reached out for the support of the gate. The beast was morphing in front of her eyes. Half wolf, half man. His eyes turned a lighter gray, but the quality in them was unmistakable.
Tor.
Her knees gave way, and everything seemed like a dream as she’d stumbled back to the cottage. She might have cried out, might have screamed, she couldn’t remember. All she did remember was grabbing Tor’s car keys from the hall stand and rushing to the garage. The last she saw of him was in the rearview mirror as he raced naked after her, now fully transformed back into human form.
Opening her eyes, Connie looked up at the sky again. When she had thought of that night since, she had only thought conceptually. Her fears had been too great to remember it in detail. She had managed to block the image of Tor as wolf. Now that he had told her his story, it didn’t seem quite so shocking an image.
She closed her eyes again. He had been truly magnificent. The power that emanated from him was breathtaking, as was the potent strength in his long limbs. Thick fur covered his sleek, muscular body, mostly brown and black but with white across his flank and around his muzzle. His large paws held their ground as he watched her with the lightest gray eyes, which turned darker as the change occurred. His head had lifted, his ears pricking up with recognition, and he’d begun to snarl, showing those powerful teeth. She knew the moment he’d seen it was her, and he’d frozen in place.
Connie hadn’t stopped to find out what happened next because she’d turned and raced back inside. But she’d heard him calling her name as she reached the car and knew that his transformation back to human was complete.
His transformation back to human…
Lord, it was all still so surreal.
Not wanting to think anymore, she turned and started to swim. Hard.
Length after length, until her arms and legs and lungs ached with the effort. She turned onto her back again, letting the buoyancy of the crystal water support her now weary body, and the lemon-scented fragrance that came to her on the humid atmosphere gather in her nostrils and give her some semblance of peace.
Satisfied with her physical efforts, she floated there, arms outstretched, looking up at the stars again, and that damned moon. The swim had settled her a little, had steadied her nerves and her thoughts.
She let her mind float in the same way that she allowed her body to float. Swimming had always been a release for her, a constant and steady companion against the vagaries of life. She’d swum as a schoolgirl, loving every moment of being in water and gaining many awards for her prowess, and she had continued her passion during the pressure-filled years of university life when she’d used physical training to counter the mental stress of studying computer science. She’d spent long hours in the municipal pool in those grief-stricken days after her parents’ deaths, and again when she’d applied for more jobs than she could remember before landing the prestigious position at Tor’s company.
For her, swimming was an intrinsic part of who she was, and she couldn’t bear to imagine a life that didn’t allow her precious hours of escape in the comforting depths of water. Did she need to swim in the same way that Tor needed to run? To shift into his animal form and simply run? While she had made a choice, Tor had been given none. For her it was a passion; for him it was a necessity. She couldn’t imagine how impossibly difficult it must have been for him.
She swam over to the steps leading from the pool and got out. Grabbing a couple of pristine white towels from the nearby rack, she dried herself, wrapped a towel around her sopping hair, and slipped back into the robe.
With a last look at the pool and the lake beyond, she turned off the lights and closed the door. Silence again accompanied her as she reached the main hallway. Since she had yet to see much of the villa, she went exploring. Unlike his London apartment, a masculine minimalist dream, the villa seemed geared more to family living with its homey ambience.
Although she didn’t turn on the lights, she had her first really good look at the kitchen. Moonlight flooded through the expanse of windows, highlighting green marble worktops juxtaposed with up-to-the-minute appliances in brushed stainless steel. Brightly colored Italian crockery gave the space a lived-in feel.
Connie ran her hand lightly along the smooth marble and thought how amazing it would be to cook in a kitchen like this. Since her parents had died, she’d never really had the opportunity to cook for anyone, and she missed it. Offering to cook dinner for Tor had seemed a little too
intimate, besides which they always ate out before she spent the night at his apartment. Breakfast was always a snatched cup of coffee and maybe a bagel if he had any in, or a piece of whatever fruit he might have had in his fridge.
Thirsty after her swim, she rummaged through the cupboards and found a glass in which to pour water from the cooler on the counter. Sipping, she glanced around again. Before she could stop herself, she was imagining herself in this kitchen, preparing a meal for her and Tor. She remembered that idyllic weekend in the New Forest before it was cut short. The leisurely breakfast they’d shared when Tor had actually cooked for her, the amazing walks they’d taken in the forest with only the deer and wild ponies as companions.
Leaning back against the counter top, she sighed heavily. Could they ever have that again? She didn’t see how, not unless she could find a way to accept his ruthless nature and—
“Oh, my God.” She went to step back, but only hit the counter. Her fingers lost their grip on the glass, and it shattered to the marble-tiled floor.
Tor stood in the doorway. Framed by the moon’s light, he seemed to take up most of the space. Barefoot, his jeans unclasped at the waist, and with only a black muscle shirt covering his chest. His skin was glistening, his thick dark hair in disarray, and his eyes pinned on her.
She thrust a hand to her throat. “You scared me half to death.”
“Why are you standing here in the dark?” His deep voice echoed around the kitchen. “Are you unwell?”
She rubbed her hand soothingly across her collarbone. “I’m fine. Had a swim. Couldn’t sleep.”
He made no effort to move from the doorway, but simply stood there, looking amazing with that soft glow washing over his damp hair and the slick muscles of his chest and arms.
Instinctively, Connie knew. Her stomach fluttered. “Have you been out there? Running?”
The slightest smile crossed his lips. “Yes.”
She drew in a breath. “In the forest?”
He nodded, but still didn’t move. “Does that scare you?”
She dropped her hand from her throat, willing her heartbeat to normalize. “A little.”
Still he didn’t move.
“Do you need anything?” Connie asked, trying to act as if it was a normal occurrence to meet up with a shapeshifter in a strange foreign kitchen in the middle of the night. “Water? Coffee? I mean, after… Do you…”
“Just water.”
She nodded and turned to reach into the cupboard for a glass when Tor snapped out her name. She jerked around, but it was too late to avoid the piece of glass that stabbed into the sole of her bare foot.
“Ow, damn!”
Tor was there in an instant, bending down to lift her leg. Connie reached back to steady herself, gripping the edge of the counter as Tor inspected her foot. “I need to remove the glass,” he said firmly. “Hold tight.”
Connie winced, her insides jerking when he pulled the glass quickly from the wound. Then he lifted her up and plonked her down on the counter next to the sink. She pulled the robe together as it separated over her legs.
“Stay put,” Tor said as he strode to the door and switched on the lights. “I’ll be a minute.”
While she waited for him to return, she studied her foot. Of all the stupid things to do. She looked down at the remnants of the shattered glass on the kitchen floor as Tor came back in with a first aid box.
“Be careful,” she said as he came over to her. “The glass. You’re barefoot, too.”
He only smiled as he walked over the debris, then lifted her foot again. “Don’t worry about me.”
She held the edges of the robe together while he worked, telling herself she had no reason to be modest since she wore perfectly acceptable underwear beneath the robe. And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen every part of her before. But she suddenly felt vulnerable, too aware of him, and the tender way he cared for her wounded foot.
First, he bathed the wound, stroking a damp cloth over the cut until it was clear and clean. Connie watched him, aware of the intensity of his focus, as if what he was doing was the full center of his attention right then. His brow was slightly furrowed, his jaw tight. She had the urge to reach out and stroke the tension away but stopped herself.
Discarding the cloth in the sink, he picked up a tube of salve and, with infinite care, proceeded to rub the salve into the wound.
He stopped, looking up when she winced as the ointment smarted. “Okay?”
She nodded. “Just being a baby.”
“No, you’re not.” He held her gaze for long moments, making her pulse pick up. “This wound went deep.” The way he looked at her, intense and brooding, made her wonder if he was referring only to the cut.
Since she didn’t quite know how to respond, she looked back to her foot. After a few moments, he placed a small wad of gauze over the cut then picked up a roll of bandage.
“Is that necessary?”
“Humor me.” Slowly he rolled the bandage around her foot. It was vaguely erotic and mesmerizing. Sensual. Connie warned herself not to let her thoughts go along that particular route, but she couldn’t seem to stop them.
He worked with a single-mindedness, pretty much like he did everything, from business deals to lovemaking. But she’d never known him to be quite so tender, so caring. Much more than any other man she’d ever known.
The sensations flowing through her intensified when, still with her foot in his hand, he looked up. Holding her gaze, he raised her foot higher and bent to tenderly kiss the bandaged wound.
Connie swallowed, unable and unwilling to break the sensual spell. The kitchen seemed alight with an energy that was both lustful and tender, and she wanted to simply close her eyes and stay like this forever. But she needed all her wits if she was to stop what seemed inevitable.
When she gave a little jerk of her leg, Tor released her. But instead of stepping away he eased her legs apart and stepped between them. Placing his hands on the counter either side of her hips, he just stood there. Was he waiting for her to respond?
Connie swallowed, fighting the urge to move into him. She kept her fingers clasped tight around the edges of the robe, but less for modesty and more in the hope that her restless hands wouldn’t make a grab for him.
“How does that feel?”
She wasn’t entirely sure what he meant. Was he referring to her injury, or to something else entirely? Her chest felt tight as her lungs squeezed, and her blood sped up. “My foot feels much better.”
An enigmatic smile flickered across his lips. “I’m glad.” His gaze moved slowly over her face, trailing along the contours of her mouth and making her flesh tingle as if it were his tongue doing the tracing. His focus returned to her eyes. “I want this to work, Connie. For both of us.”
Connie’s pulse raced. This close to him she could barely breathe. Her breasts tingled with awareness, and desire shot straight to her core. She ached to feel his arms around her. For him to kiss her, touch her … make love to her.
Nothing else seemed to matter right then. Had it been the way he had tended her so carefully? Was it because he had given her space to start reasoning everything out, and in that reasoning she had been able to make sense of her feelings for him?
Did anything matter, really matter, other than the way he made her feel? And if she gave in to him, was she basically admitting that she accepted him, that she accepted everything he was?
“Tor?”
“Yes?”
“I’m still really mixed up.”
“I know.”
She couldn’t decide if it was because he was being so reasonable, or because he was looking at her with such desire, or simply because he was letting her take the lead, but she lifted her hands and placed them on his shoulders.
“I have a thousand questions,” she said. “And I don’t even know what most of them are.”
He smiled, turning his head to kiss one of the hands she had on his shoulder. “When you figure them o
ut, I’ll answer every one.”
Her fingers trembled as she wrapped her hands around his neck and drew him closer. She had never once instigated sex between them before. Tor had always driven their lovemaking, had always been the dominant partner. Now, she sensed he was letting her take the lead. Allowing her to steer what came next between them.
Myriad thoughts about Tor had demanded her attention over the past days, weeks, and right then she made a conscious decision to shut them off. She’d battled with her fears, reasoned it all backward and forward and six ways to Sunday until her head wanted to explode. There was so much she didn’t know about him, aspects of who he was that she imagined she would never come to terms with, not completely. But there was much about him she did know and she was ready to focus on those parts. The parts she trusted.
With his mouth inches from hers she raised her chin. “Can we take things really slow?”
“Whatever you need, milaya.”
She needed him. Just him. “Kiss me.”
His heated gaze lingered on her mouth, then moved back to her eyes. “You need to make the first move.”
Considering the threats he’d made back at the bar, and then when they’d arrived here at the villa, Connie couldn’t quite believe he was giving her the power. Giving her the choice. A proper choice this time. She could step away. Or she could take a chance.
“What if I can’t do this?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Then I will give you a little more time.”
But he moved forward a few inches, enough that his chest brushed her breasts. With that simple touch any residual doubt she might have had disappeared, and she moved in to touch her lips to his. True to his word, he allowed her to take the lead. He kept his hands on the counter beside her hips, letting her guide the timbre of their kiss.
One taste of him, one simple touch of her mouth to his, and she wanted more. She increased the pressure of the kiss, drew him closer, and was about to demand that he respond when he did. His arms banded around her, and he stepped fully between her legs, pulling her closer to his erection, which pressed hard against her heat. The whole tone of the kiss changed, moving from Connie’s tentative first touch to passionate and bordering on brutal in mere seconds.