But Ryder could also see that the soft woman didn’t like Jasper at all, and he didn’t understand that.
Ryder curled up next to the fire, glorying in its warmth. Above him, Jasper and the soft woman spoke in clipped voices, only occasionally exchanging words. He could tell that they were angry with each other. He was troubled by this. He liked the soft woman very, very much, and he wanted her to be accepted in his pack. He knew there would be trouble otherwise.
In fact, earlier, when he’d been with her, he come so close to remembering…
He’d found a word, and he’d whispered it, and in that moment, everything that he had ever known as a human seemed destined to come flooding back. He was certain it was going to, in fact. He was going to be a man.
And then…
Then, nothing. It didn’t come. Possibly because the soft woman had pushed him away. He wasn’t sure what to make of that either. He thought that she liked him. He could smell her, and her scent told him she was just as interested in mating with him as he was with her. And yet, she seemed to resist him. He didn’t know why that was. Perhaps it was some human thing that he couldn’t understand anymore.
He was so frustrated. Why did he wear the man skin if he couldn’t think like a man?
In truth, Ryder didn’t think at all. He had bursts of emotion, motivations, desires, and fears, but nothing that was entirely equivalent to human thought. But he remembered human thought in a hazy, abstract way, and he wanted it back.
There was a noise—high-pitched and jittery. Ryder jumped before he remembered that Jasper had a little box that he carried in his pocket that made the noise. Jasper would hold it to his ear and talk to it as if it were a person. Ryder found it strange, but the box didn’t seem to be a threat, so he didn’t worry too much about it. He settled back down on the fire while Jasper spoke into his box.
When Jasper was finished, he put the box back in his pocket and took the soft woman by the arm. He began to drag her back towards the freight container.
The soft woman resisted, yelling at Jasper. She didn’t want to be locked back up in that big, dark, metal room. Ryder didn’t blame her.
He growled at Jasper.
Jasper turned on him, saying angry words that Ryder couldn’t quite understand. Ryder didn’t care. He wasn’t afraid of Jasper. He had to keep his brother from putting the soft woman into the container. She didn’t want to go there, and Ryder didn’t want her in there.
Ryder wedged himself between Jasper and the soft woman, snarling.
Eventually, Jasper gave up. Instead of putting the woman in the container, he put her in the tent. He zipped her inside. He stopped to talk to Ryder and give him instructions. Ryder couldn’t understand the words, but he knew from some of Jasper’s gestures that he wanted him to stay here, not to go anywhere else.
Ryder didn’t plan on going anywhere, of course. But if the soft woman wandered off into the woods again, he would have to go after her. He couldn’t let her run off alone. She might be in danger.
Still, he had no way to communicate that to Jasper, so he smiled at his brother as he rested on all fours.
Jasper, clearly frustrated, turned on his heel and went back to his container. He drove away and left Ryder alone.
By now, it was dark outside. Ryder wandered around the camp for a little while, feeling confused and unsure of himself. He wanted to be close to the soft woman again, but he found the desire strange and foreign. It wasn’t a wolf desire, not exactly. But it was strong.
He went to the tent and sat down outside. He made a whining noise.
The soft woman spoke within—her voice sounded irritated and dismissive. She didn’t want Ryder around.
Ryder ducked down his head, disappointed.
Then he lifted his head again. He didn’t care, he decided. He wanted to be near the soft woman, and he would do it, no matter what. It was important to be close to her… important for some reason, and he wasn’t sure what that was, but he knew it, deep and certain as he knew the moon hung in the sky.
Ryder began to fumble with the zippers on the tent. He didn’t know how to use them, but he had watched Jasper do it, and it didn’t look that hard.
The soft woman made angry noises inside the tent.
Ryder struggled for a few minutes more, ignoring her protests.
And then, he managed to get the zipper to open, and there was an opening into the tent. He could see the soft woman, huddled up on a sleeping bag. She was crying.
Ryder cocked his head, looking at the tears leaking out of the woman’s eyes. She was sad, and he didn’t like it. He wanted—more than anything—to make her happy always.
He crept inside, trying to be quiet and careful, so as not to make her frightened.
She saw him, but she only started to cry more.
Ryder wasn’t sure what to do. He watched her. If she were a wolf like him, he would rub his head against her flank or lick her fur. He would yip at her until she stood up and came running with him. If that didn’t work, he would bring her something—some small prey that she could sink her teeth into.
But he didn’t think any of those things were appropriate in this instance.
He moved a little closer, and he caught her scent. She smelled so female and wonderful, and he was seized with the desire to mate with her again. Between his legs, he felt himself hardening.
And with that sensation came a scrap of memory, a knowledge of what to do.
He eased his arm around the soft woman, rubbing her shoulder and drawing her against his chest.
It was the right thing. The woman clung to him, burying her face against his body.
He gently ran his hands over her back.
Her shoulders shook.
He touched her. She was so, so soft. He loved the way her body felt, all of her curves pressed up against him.
She lifted her face to look at him, and she said his name. “Ryder.”
He wanted to put his mouth on her mouth again. He remembered doing that—remembered that it was something humans did for mating. He didn’t know why. It was useless for wolves. But he remembered that it had been nice, that it had felt good, and that it had… had…
He tucked his fingers under her chin, cocking his head from one side to the other as he surveyed her.
She didn’t stop him. She just gazed back at him, her eyes still glittering wetly, though her tears had stopped.
He leaned closer, and he pressed his lips against hers.
She sighed against him.
He kissed deeper, nudging his tongue into her mouth. Ah, that was bliss. He didn’t think there was anything sweeter than her soft body pressed against him and her mouth opening for him, allowing him to probe her. He gave himself over to it—to her.
But she pushed him away. Not too forcefully, not angrily, but insistently. “Ryder, no. You can’t do that.”
He’d understood her. Those words… Oh, yes, it was coming back now. He knew the words. They were coming because he was close to her. He was sure of it. He grasped her shoulders and pulled her tight against him. He kissed her again.
But she struggled. “Stop it, I mean it.” And there was a note of panic in her tone.
He didn’t want to scare her. So he pulled back. It was confusing, because he could smell her arousal. It was making him even more excited, the fact that she wanted him too. But he remembered now that humans could feel things that were different that what their bodies wanted. It was confusing to be a human. That was why there had to be so many words.
He strove now to form one. He put his lips together. Puffed out air between them. “Puh…” he said. Yes, that was it! “Puh… lease,” he said. “Please.”
She sucked in breath.
He stroked the underside of her jaw. “Pretty,” he murmured. “Please.”
She was stunned. “Ryder?”
He kissed her again. The kissing was making the words come back, and so he needed to do it. She needed to let him. If he could only make her understand.
&n
bsp; But she was wriggling away from him, pushing out of his arms. “You spoke. You said something.”
He reached for her.
“Say something again.”
“Need… to… kiss,” he managed. And then he tackled her, pressing her body down into the sleeping bag, covering her pliable form with his own. She gave under him, her legs parting as if by instinct. And then her pelvis cradled his as he rocked against her.
Oh, but she felt good. He drove his hardness over her flesh, thinking about how nice it would be to sink into her body, to join with her.
The thought made him more aroused, and he began to kiss her harder, his hands moving over her torso, skimming her waist, darting beneath her shirt. He wanted to touch her skin.
“Ryder, stop,” she said. She was breathless. “We can’t do this. You’re not right in the head, and I can’t take advantage—”
He silenced her with his mouth, covering her lips with his, sweeping his tongue inside again to claim her.
She gasped. Her body undulated against him.
His fingers traveled over her skin. She was even softer beneath her shirt, pillowy silken skin. He could hardly even imagine how amazing it would be to have his bare skin against hers. It would be like being engulfed in paradise.
More words were coming back to him now. The thing binding her breasts was a bra, and he remembered how to undo the clasp. He was fiercely turned on now, and he set about freeing her from the contraption. He wanted his hands on her, maybe even his mouth.
She let out a little strangled cry. “Ryder, what are you doing?”
He pushed up her shirt, uncovering her there. Oh, she was lovely. She had very large, very round breasts, and they were capped with tiny pink nipples, which stood straight up in little peaks. He rubbed his thumbs over her nipples.
She moaned. “Oh, we shouldn’t, we shouldn’t.”
“We should,” he rasped, lowering his mouth to her nipple.
But then—
Then, it was like a burst in his head—too much knowledge at once.
Enoch—the cause—his father—obligations—the man in the woods—
He knew the man in the woods, the one with the gun. He had to…
Ryder scrambled off of the soft woman. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have to take care of… I’ll be back.” He threw himself out of the tent.
* * *
Calla sat up, thoroughly confused. She yanked her shirt down over her body, covering herself.
Outside the tent, she could hear Ryder yelling. “Leroy! I know you’re out there. Show yourself. We’ll talk this out.”
Leroy? What? Were those words?
She ran out of the tent after Ryder. “Wait!” she called after him.
He was stumbling towards the woods, as if he was having trouble walking upright. “I have to find Leroy. The man. The one with the gun.”
He was talking! Those were actual words coming out of his mouth!
He looked at her. “You need to stay back. He’s dangerous.” He turned away and raised his voice. “Get out here, Leroy! You and I both know what this is about.”
“You can talk.” It was all she could think.
“I’ll be back,” he said. “I’ll explain.”
“No, don’t go,” she said. “You can talk.”
But he was already staggering off.
She reached back and resnapped her bra. Then she took off after him.
He ran into the dark woods.
She went behind him. “Ryder, wait.”
Ahead of her, he fell to his knees. He turned to look at her, panic crossing his features. “No, no,” he said. “No, wait, I need… It’s all…” And then the only noise that came out of his mouth was a howling noise—chilling and agonized.
She knelt down next to him. “Ryder, what’s wrong?”
The look he gave her was dull and uncomprehending.
“Talk to me,” she said.
But he didn’t. She tried for what seemed like hours, but no more words came out of his mouth. Ryder had reverted to an animal again, somehow, and she didn’t understand what had happened.
She’d heard him speak. She knew she had.
Sure you didn’t just imagine it, Calla? taunted a nasty voice in her head. Maybe you wanted his hands on you so badly that you pretended he could talk.
Ugh. She clutched her head and paced. By now, she and Ryder were back near the camp, but Ryder was lying next to the fire pit, which was only dead embers, looking forlorn.
He wasn’t speaking. He wasn’t doing anything except the same animal behavior he’d done before. She felt sick.
Okay, so it was true that she thought the Beast Man was attractive. Anyone would think the same thing. He was gorgeous, with his toned, tanned skin, and those haunting dark eyes. And, okay, he was a phenomenal kisser. It had been a long time since she’d been really and truly kissed, she had to admit. She and Chad had devolved to pecks most of the time. Open-mouthed kissing only happened when they were having sex, which didn’t end up being very often, not now that he was sure she’d never have a baby. No, once Chad had realized that there was no family in their future, he lost all interest in her. And she’d been separated from him for a while now, so it had been a long time since she’d had a real kiss.
She supposed it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility that she had lost her mind. Here she was, captured, stuck out here with a man-wolf. It wasn’t as if she was in a situation that she had any experience with. And before all this had started, she had been lonely. She had been so sure that her life was going to take a certain path, and when it veered off in another direction, it broke her heart.
Maybe Ryder was somehow a preferable partner to someone like Chad. Ryder seemed loyal like a puppy. He was uncomplicated. He was beautiful. And he was obviously attracted to her.
No, she thought. I did hear him speak. He can talk.
She wasn’t losing her mind. She’d had Ryder back to human for a moment, and then she’d lost him.
Now she stared at him where he lay next to the dying fire. He looked so defeated. She made her way over to him and knelt down. “Are you disappointed too?”
He looked up at her, but there was no understanding or even spark of intelligence in his eyes. He gazed at her in that dull, dumb way that dogs do.
It hurt her heart. “What happened?”
No response.
Of course there wouldn’t be a response. She could see that he couldn’t even understand her, let alone answer. However, she couldn’t figure it out. It didn’t make any sense. She knew that people who had amnesia sometimes got all their memory back in a big surge. It was possible that Ryder’s memory of being a man worked in the same way. On the other hand, she had never heard of someone with amnesia regaining their memory and then immediately losing it two minutes later.
So, this was some sort of strange werewolf thing. Completely unrelated.
Werewolf. She shivered. She didn’t like werewolves. Hell, she didn’t want to be here. She didn’t want to be trapped in this place. If there were only a way to get home. But she’d tried. She tried to run away, and she hadn’t made it very far. Maybe, she could try again. She could go the other direction. Of course, that man was still out there.
Unless she was crazy. Maybe she had hallucinated the man and hallucinated Ryder talking as well. Well, hallucinations were generally visual, weren’t they? Did hallucinations also mean that she would hear things that weren’t there? She guessed if she was crazy, anything was possible. But she didn’t think it added up. The kinds of people who were so crazy that they heard voices like that, they were generally schizophrenic. There was no history of schizophrenia in her family. Nor had she ever exhibited any other symptoms similar to the disease.
No, logically speaking, she was going to have to accept the fact that she was not crazy. And that meant that Ryder had been talking, but now he couldn’t. And it also meant that that man was still out there. The man with the gun.
Hadn’t tha
t been what Ryder was yelling about earlier? The man with the gun?
A cold tendril of worry began to crawl up her spine. She wrapped her arms around her torso. The man with the gun was still out there. He was out there, and he was coming for her.
Then she shook herself. She didn’t know what that man had been doing. Maybe he was just a hunter. Maybe he didn’t want anything to do with her. Maybe he’d already gone home and had forgotten all about her. There’s no reason to think that he was stalking them out in the woods hiding in the darkness, waiting for just the right moment to come out, stick the muzzle of the gun in her face, and—
Crash.
She whirled in the direction of the noise.
She couldn’t see anything.
Ryder rose up onto his hands and knees. He growled out into the darkness.
Calla swallowed.
Ryder began creeping in the direction of the noise.
But she didn’t like that. She didn’t want him to leave her alone. She sprang forward and grabbed him by the shoulder, holding him back. She shook her head at him. “No. Don’t.”
Ryder shook her off.
Calla cringed.
He crept forward, past the fire pit, past the chairs surrounding it, over the shadowed grassy area. With each step, he got closer and closer to the woods.
Sweat broke out on the back of her neck. Her heart began to pick up speed. In her mind’s eye, she could see the man now. Except he didn’t look like a man, not exactly. He was taller, shoulders more broad. His forehead protruded over his eyes, which were glowing red. And he was smiling some kind of demonic smile. He would come out of the woods, and he would rip her to shreds with his bare hands, all the while laughing like a hyena. He wouldn’t even need the gun to kill her.
She shuddered, hairs raising on the back of her neck. The fear was riding her body like a live thing, and she was tense and taut as she turned in a circle, looking around her for any signs of danger.
Suddenly, a deer ran out of the woods, running a breakneck speed.
Ryder turned after it, even began to run after the fleeing animal.
Oh, only a deer. She sighed in relief. Then she called out for Ryder to stop.
At the sound of her voice, he halted and turned to her. He cast one longing look after the deer, which had already shot across their small camp area and gone back into the woods on the other side. Then, seeming to accept that he must stay with her, he came back, still on his hands and knees. He rubbed his face against her legs.
Midnight Moonlight Page 8