by Linda Mooney
“I know.” She nodded slowly. “But I couldn’t take the risk they would try to blame you for this, and I would be out cold or something and unable to tell them differently.”
She watched as he locked and latched the door. That done, he strolled over to the opposite side of the bed and stared out the big window. It was a large one, with two vertical panes and a toggle in the center. Earlier she had opened it and let the two glass panels swing outward. The evening air smelled wonderful. Even now the scent of fresh pine filled the little room.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
The moon hadn’t risen yet. The only light on in the lodge was the one on the nightstand near her elbow. Staring at him, Hannah once again marveled at the sight of his strong profile. The thick, black, slightly curly hair. The impossibly wide shoulders with long, strong arms. And his hands. Large hands that had seen a lot of manual labor, but were kept clean. Hannah believed that the true measure of a man could be seen in his hands. How clean they were. Whether or not the nails were kept trim and neat. Jeb Morr took pride in his appearance, she could tell. But not in the prissy way some men did. Mr. Morr cared less about what brand of clothing he wore, and more about his general appearance.
“Jeb?” she nudged. A yawn suddenly caught her unaware.
“You need to tuck yourself in, Hannah.” He smiled at her. “It’s been a long day for both of us.”
“Not until you answer my question.”
He took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “I’m thinking I’d like to take a walk through those trees.”
“Tonight?” Her eyes widened. “In the dark?”
“The moon’ll be up in a little while. There should be enough light to see by. Besides, I’m feeling restless.”
She made a little motion with her hands. She understood the meaning of feeling restless. There were plenty of nights when she had either been too scared or too worried to get to sleep, especially when it was after two in the morning and Carl wasn’t home yet from the bars. Involuntarily her eyes went to the brown bag still sitting on the floor between the bed and the nightstand.
The sound of movement drew her attention back to where Jeb was heading for the door. “You’re really going back out, aren’t you?”
“You’ll be safe. I won’t go far. Just to stretch my legs and give myself some room to think.”
She saw his eyes jump to the empty side of the bed before he turned away. All at once she knew why he was being reticent. “Jeb?”
“Go ahead and get to sleep. The more you rest, the quicker you’ll heal.” Flashing her another quick grin, he exited the lodge, closing the door firmly behind him. Hannah stared at the door.
“Just to stretch my legs and give myself some room to think.”
No. He had to get away, if only for a short while. He was escaping being with her. Being … in bed with her.
Sliding under the covers, she pulled on her pillow until it was beneath her head. The room was quiet except for the gentle chirping of crickets. Every now and then the wind would caress the trees, sending another wave of pine-scented air through the window into the cabin.
She turned off the lamp. He would return. His word was good. And he would eventually lie down beside her. She refused to believe it was her face making him reluctant to join her in bed. There had to be other reasons. Maybe he was ashamed of the fact he had practically kidnapped her. Or maybe he liked her, just not in that way. Romantically.
Memories of the way he had touched her face, with his fingertips stroking her swollen lips with undeniable tenderness, brought a tingling to her toes. Hannah wriggled her feet under the cool sheet. She thought he was going to kiss her right then and there, and she would have let him. Even with the blistering pain in her face, she would have welcomed his soft lips. Soft and comforting.
But he hadn’t. He had held her. Wrapped himself around her like a big blanket and let her cry until there were no more tears. The man cared for her. She would bet her life on it. Jeb truly cared about her, so what was holding him back from tucking himself in next to her? Good grief, it wasn’t as if I want sex from him!
The tingling shot up her legs and crashed headlong into the juncture between her thighs. Heat fluttered there, teasing and burning, and creating a moistness that seemed to seep into the sheets. The jolt made her jerk in response.
Oh, God, who am I trying to kid? She wanted to make love to him. She wanted his big warm body on top of hers because she knew he would make her feel protected. There was no way she could explain what she knew, but deep inside her soul the act of making love with him would be nothing like it had been with Carl. Which was one of many reasons why she yearned to have him. The simple knowledge that Jeb would never hurt her was enough to win her heart. And the thought she could spend the next eighty years of her life in his company would fill her nights with countless dreams. So why was he acting almost scared? Hannah could understand if the man was married, but he was a loner going from town to town, from job to job, like a true nomad. No way was there a Mrs. Jeb Morr—
Hannah gasped as a cold hand swiped over her body, and the chill sank deep inside her chest.
What if Jeb Morr was acting this way because he was gay?
Tears welled into her eyes. Hannah turned and pressed her face into the pillow. That would explain everything—his devotion, his slightly standoffish reluctance, and the fact he treated her more like a little sister than a woman he wanted a future with.
It all made sense to her now. If she was to remain with him, it would be as a companion and no more. No sex. No deep kisses. No passionate entanglements.
He had promised to take care of her until she was well, and then she was free to go her own way. Neat. Simple. Without any promises given so they could be broken.
She curled her legs up against her belly and tucked her arms against her chest. Before she was aware of it, she was asleep, as outside the moon peeked through the trees and into the room.
The woods were less than twenty feet from the rear of the motel. Sliding between the trees, Jeb waited until he found a tiny clearing. Once he knew there was no one else about, he shed his clothes and dropped them on the ground.
Naked, he lifted his arms until they were away from his body, and he sighed as the false skin slowly sank into his pores.
The air was cool on his freshly-revealed true self. In a minute or two, after the moist residue of the recede evaporated, Jebaral began running. Pushing himself to go faster, pumping his legs until he was almost a blur, he sprinted through the surrounding forest. Leaves and branches slapped against his impervious hide where his natural covering acted as body armor.
There was nothing on this world, outside of their most fearsome weapons, that could hurt him. He had taken some of the worst torture the Arra could devise and he had survived. Now he was free from the horrors he and the others had faced when the Arra had landed on his world and captured them. To force them into a life of servitude with whatever race paid the greatest price.
Servitude. Or perhaps worse. There were many races out there for whom the Arra provided flesh for the banquet tables. It was a well-known fact Ruinos had some of the tenderest meat beneath their tough, protective hides, which was why Barandat Vor had been plundered with gusto for the past ten or so generations.
Jebaral shook his head, hoping to clear away the worst of the memories. His people’s history was vague now. As a race, they were nearly extinct. He would not be surprised to learn the thirty-one escapees to this planet were the last of their species.
The land dipped drastically, opening up to a small valley. He stopped to survey the beauty spread before him. He loved the way the moon bathed its milky glow over the land. The Earth gave up its secrets to him in ways the inhabitants of this world couldn’t begin to understand or appreciate. A big lungful of the night air told him many things. It spoke of creatures large and small scurrying among the foliage and above the trees. There were other humans in the aromatic stream, but they were
far away, most of them tucked inside their homes.
Other humans.
Hannah.
He turned to glance over his shoulder. Several miles separated them, but he could still feel her. Hear her breathing slow. Smell her sorrow. Sense her worry and unhappiness. She wanted him with her in that bed. It would mean his downfall if he gave in to his urges. To this need flooding every cell in his body. Bowing his head, Jebaral groaned at the impact she had on him.
Of the thirty-one Ruinos who had escaped, eleven were female. They were the sum of a civilization that had once numbered over twenty million.
Of the eleven females, three had been mated and were past child-bearing ages. Four were children, not yet old enough to seek, much less take, a life partner.
That left four females. Four, on whom the fate of an entire race rested. And their future looked even more bleak. A Ruinos female would not be able to conceive until she found her true life partner, and their blood had merged.
On the ship he and all the other males had approached the four females, wondering if they were bonded to one of them. To everyone’s disappointment, nothing had developed. And now with the survivors scattered all over the continent—perhaps all over the world by now—it would be a miracle if any of his race managed to reproduce.
Jebaral sniffed as a large, warm-blooded creature ambled by. It also paused and tested the air to see if the strange creature was worth getting alarmed over. A silent war waged. Tensing, Jebaral prepared himself to run again, when the animal huffed irritably and went on its way.
A smile came over his lips. The lesser intelligent creatures of this world were of no danger to him. Only the natives who walked on two legs would ever prove to be worthy opponents.
Soft rain began to fall. Jebaral lifted his face and reveled in the cold mist. It felt good on his true skin.
His thoughts went back to Hannah and of the moment he realized he was bonding to her. His fork had been dirty, and she had reached over to pluck it from his hand so she could get him a clean one. Their fingers had brushed, and he had nearly fallen onto the floor when the emotion slammed into him with the force of a runaway truck. It had been the first time they had touched. The shock had lasted all day and all night, leaving him stupefied and in denial until he had gone back to the diner the next morning to see if those same feelings came back. They did, and they were stronger.
There was no way he could deny that Hannah was attracted to him. That tangy, lemonade smell surrounded her every time she came over to him. He could hear her heart literally running when she caught sight of him. Or whenever she sat down in the booth across from him to chat for a moment.
She was innocent. Totally trusting. And miserable beyond all description.
Her life essence was pure, which had shocked him. Although she had lived with a man for a couple of years, and they had performed sex numerous times, there was no awakening in her. To Hannah, the act itself was meaningless. Instead, she thrived on the closeness afterwards, on the feeling of being cared for and belonging. Of being held and cuddled, and nurtured.
She had never orgasmed, or else her woman scent would be different from what enveloped her. That fact had driven him to her. It sank into his blood, tainting him forever, and leaving him hungering for her like a starved man.
Jebaral knew that when he took Hannah—
Shock like a surge of lightning exploded inside him. When I take her.
He dropped his chin to his chest. He would take her. It was inevitable. The one act would clear up so many things. One night, one joining, and one of two things would happen. Either there would be no blood mating, cleansing his mind and body of his need for her. Or he would never be able to leave her for the rest of his life.
The nerves running up the insides of his thighs began to quiver with anticipation. He felt his manpipe rise and stiffen in the wet, chilly air. It was not uncommon for a Ruinos man to take a female when they both believed theirs was a true joining, only to find out it was a misconception. Simolif believed his brother’s attention toward the woman was one of those false feelings. Yet, for the sake of Jeb’s emotions, and their species, they both hoped it wasn’t.
He turned and began to race back toward town and the lodge motel. Hannah was asleep now. Her body had finally succumbed to the medication she’d taken. When he returned, he would slip back into the cabin through the window he’d left open and crawl under the covers with her.
They wouldn’t attempt a joining tonight. But it would have to be soon. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep his secret from her. Or how much longer he could abstain from claiming the sweet promise of her body.
Above the treetops, the moon had risen like a bright coin. It would be full in another couple of nights. A harvest moon, nearly blood-red and pulsing like an imitation sun. Jebaral could feel his blood coursing throughout his body. These next few days would be crucial. By this time next week, either he and Hannah would still be sharing the tiny bungalow, adrift within the sensations of their bodies reawakening, or she would be there alone. Without him. Because if theirs was not meant to be a true bonding, he would not be able to remain with her. Ever.
The thought was enough to make him flinch in pain.
Chapter 9
Clue
“Hey, Jamison.”
Carl looked up bleary-eyed at the man who plopped down on the barstool next to him. As the guy ordered up, Carl turned back to the longneck he had been nursing for the past hour.
With Hannah gone, so was the tip money he used to go drinking. Emmet, the barkeep and owner of the place, was letting him run a tab—for the time being.
“How’s the hand?”
The remark made him lift the cast. “Fuckin’ hurts. What d’ya think?” he muttered. It was bad enough he had no money to get decently drunk. It sucked worse he couldn’t get drunk enough to even dull the pain. The prescription for the painkiller the doc over at the clinic had given him was going to cost over thirty bucks to fill. Carl Jamison didn’t have that kind of money. Not with Hannah gone. He winced and took another swig of his now-warm beer.
“Pretty sorry, that Morr guy running off with her.”
Swinging his eyes toward the man, it finally dawned on him who the guy was. “You knew him?”
Manuel Rosas shrugged. “Guy didn’t talk much. He was a loner, but he did his job and kept in Bennetson’s good graces.” He chugged back a long swallow and smacked his lips when he was done. Rosas was part of the regular construction crew. Had been for the past three years. “I never woulda guessed the guy would have taken her like that.”
It had taken Carl nearly an hour to finally make it over to the clinic to have his hand x-rayed. The prognosis wasn’t good. The bones weren’t just broken; they had been crushed to the point where two doctors examining the slides were doubtful he would ever have the use of that hand again. Still, they had tried to reset it as best they could since Carl refused surgery. The cast would have to stay on for a full six weeks. After that they would x-ray it again, but there was no telling where they would go from there.
In the meantime, he had refused to file any kind of charges. He had a lot of reasons for not doing so. The biggest one being that if the sheriff did manage somehow to find Hannah, she would tell him about how seriously he’d beaten her up. With a domestic violence charge already on his record, this incident would violate his probation.
Secondly, he wanted a clear shot at Mr. Jeb Morr. If the authorities got to the man before he did, Carl would probably never get the chance to thank Mr. Morr properly for running off with his woman.
Still, his reasons didn’t stop him from spreading the news that Hannah had ditched him for the ex-construction worker. In addition, he put out the word that if anyone had an idea where they might have headed, he would be mighty appreciative if they’d let him know.
It never occurred to Carl Jamison that the majority of the townsfolk were reluctant to help him in any form or fashion. Hannah was a sweet girl, and hard work
ing. She had never been one to complain. In the short time the couple had been living in Laughlin, gossip had quickly spread how the man used the young woman as his personal punching bag. The man may have been a native Laughlinite, but most of them abhorred his viciousness.
They would tolerate him, and that was all. If Hannah had run off with another man, God bless her. Jamison deserved it. So let the guy fend for himself.
“You still looking for some word about them two?” Rosas inquired softly.
Carl froze. Dipping his head a bit, he swiveled it in the man’s direction. “You know something?” His voice was low, soft, and flat, but definitely curious.
Rosas gave a shrug. “Could be nothing. Could be something.”
“Spit it out, Manuel.”
“I was in Bennetson’s office this morning, getting my insurance changed. The door to his office was open, and I heard him on the phone. He was talking to Tom Mallon. You know, his cousin up in Tumbril Harbor?”
“The lumbermill guy?”
“Right. Anyway, I heard Bennetson say something along the lines of, ‘Yeah, he’s a damn fine worker. I hated to let him go. I asked him to stay on but he wanted to head up to Clearwater. So I gave him your name in case he made it up your way.’”
“Clearwater?” Carl repeated to make sure he heard right.
Nodding, Rosas took a drink, setting his bottle back on the bar with a thump. “I’m thinking he didn’t stop in Clearwater. My guess is Morr drove all the way up to Harbor and applied at the mill like Bennetson suggested. Why else would he be talking to his cousin unless the guy was checkin’ out Morr’s references?”
In his pain and alcohol-fogged brain, Carl tried to roughly calculate the distance. “What kind of drive would that be? Five hours? Six?”
“Umm. Yeah. Five and a half or six. Sounds about right.” Rosas squinted at the man next to him. “You heading up there tomorrow?”
Carl straightened up. “Thinkin’ about it.”