“But...” She shook her head. This made no sense. Some might claim a dog or other house pet as a friend, but a wolf? “Your best friend is a wolf?” she asked.
“Not now, if you don’t mind. Later.”
She stood and eyed Payton under the overhead light. He looked like hell. Red streaks of clay dirt lined his T-shirt and jeans. Besides the red marks on his neck, there were dark shadows under his eyes. And the eyes themselves were storm pools of pain and misery. She’d give him a break for now.
“Definitely later. You have lots of explaining to do. This way.” She led him to the bathroom connected to her bedroom and motioned at the door. “It’s all yours.”
He suddenly pulled her against his hard, lean body and kissed her. His mouth and tongue were hard, full of need and promise. Just as suddenly, Payton released her and her body missed his body pressed intimately to her own. Without a word, he went to the bathroom, leaving the door ajar.
Tallulah scurried from the open doorway. There was the unmistakable sound of a belt unbuckling, a zipper being undone and then the heavy thud of his jeans as they hit the tiled floor. The water spray started and she pictured him, naked, walking into the shower stall. Tallulah stared at her face in the mirror and swept an unsteady hand through her sheen of black hair.
Did he find her attractive? He must. They’d certainly had their share of stolen kisses. Tallulah lifted the loose white T-shirt and drew in her breath at the sight of the black puckered stitches on her shoulder and the angry red skin where she’d been bitten.
She looked hideous. Quickly she lowered the T-shirt back over head. It flowed down to about an inch below her ass. It was practical and clean, but not the look she was going for tonight. She could do better.
Tallulah went to her dresser and searched until she found a nude-colored satin shift that Annie had bought for her last Christmas. It wasn’t supersexy, but it showed some cleavage and a lot of leg. Payton would approve.
Her eyes lit on a photo of her and Bo together on horseback. A happy day, only two months before the shadow spirit Nalusa Falaya had fatally bitten her lover. Tallulah laid it facedown on the dresser. She also took off the engagement ring he’d given her and that she wore on her right hand. Slowly, she stored it away in her jewelry box. “Sorry, Bo,” she whispered, knowing it was illogical. He’d want her to continue on, to find love and happiness. Too bad that the only time she’d had physical relations after Bo had been with Hanan.
Memories threatened to sour the night, but she wouldn’t let them. She was a fighter—in all things. Carefully, her shoulder still aching, Tallulah changed into the satin gown and returned to the dresser mirror. She picked up a bottle of cologne and sprayed her neck and chest. A bit of the cologne’s alcohol base accidentally landed on her stitches, stinging like a swarm of bees.
“Damn it,” she cried out.
The shower spray stopped and Payton walked out, a towel wrapped around his lean hips. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Her mouth went dry. “It was nothing,” she stammered, feeling like an idiot.
“I heard you cry out.” He scanned her body, eyes full of concern.
“I, um, forgot about my injury when I changed into my pajamas.”
His eyes dropped, raking in the swell of her breasts, and down her long legs, where her bare toes curled against the oak flooring. He repeated the process from the ground up until his eyes met hers once again.
“Beautiful,” he said hoarsely. “Did you change for me?”
“No,” she lied. “I spilled something on the T-shirt and grabbed the first old thing I pulled out of my dresser drawer.”
“Is that right?” A slow, sexy grin spread across his strong, masculine face. “Must be my lucky day.”
He saw right through her. She turned away from him, facing the mirror. “Go back and finish your shower.”
“I’d rather be here with you.” Payton walked up behind her and splayed his large, calloused hands against the soft fabric draping her abdomen. The rough texture through silk made her thighs and core clench with longing. His eyes burned into her own in the mirror’s reflection. He kept his eyes focused on hers as his hands slipped up and cupped her breasts.
Tallulah inhaled sharply and arched into his palms, her nipples hard and straining under his touch. She closed her eyes, savoring the delicious feel. It had been too long—way, way too long.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded, voice rough with need.
She did, obeying his orders without thought. His fingers tweaked and pulled at the round, rosy nubs, teasing her into a frenzy of desire.
“Look how sexy you are,” he whispered harshly, his breath fanning against her ear.
She pressed against his hips and the towel fell to the floor. His manhood bulged and pulsed against her ass.
What the hell was she doing? It was too fast. Too much too soon. Her mind argued as her body continued to hum and tingle. Logic was losing the battle. Yet she stiffened, brown eyes full of confusion and doubt.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
She shook her head, shielding her face with her hair. She felt so...bare. Raw.
Payton stepped back and placed his hands on either side of her hips, turning her around to face him.
She dropped her eyes to his chest, where dark blond curls were matted against his muscular torso. “I—I’m not sure I’m ready,” she admitted.
“Is it Bo?” he asked gently, lifting her chin.
She was shocked and dismayed to feel tears spill over and run down her cheeks. “No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s just—you’re only here temporarily. And then I’ll be alone again.”
There. She’d admitted it. Probably sounding like every other needy woman who’d had a fling with the handsome lumberjack who had drifted through their town. “Forget it,” she growled. “Must be the pain and the whiskey talking.”
He picked up the towel and redraped it over his hips, but not before she caught sight of his swollen manhood. Her pulse raced at the sight.
“I understand,” he assured her. “I’ll finish my shower—with cold water.” He gave a wry grin and headed back to the bathroom.
Tallulah sank to the edge of the bed and covered her face with her hands. What was wrong with her? She was no virgin and certainly not one to tease a man in a vain attempt to satisfy her ego. They were two consenting adults who were attracted to each other. She could have a night of passion as long as she guarded her heart from wanting more.
Take what affection you can while he’s here. You want Payton. When he leaves, don’t be filled with regret, thinking of the nights you could have been with him. Enjoying him. Life was too unpredictable. Bo’s death had taught her that.
Full of resolve, Tallulah wiped her eyes and set about turning down the bedspread and cotton sheets. Setting the lamplight to low, she climbed in bed and pulled off the gown, tossing it to the floor. Even though she tried not to move her injured shoulder, pain radiated down her arm and she hissed, stifling a cry of pain. Naked, she sat up in bed, settling against the pillows and rested. Better. The whiskey from earlier was beginning to numb the pain to a dull ache.
What the hell would Payton think when he saw her open invitation? Her moment of fear and doubt had probably turned him off her for good. What if he walked out that bathroom door and continued on, never giving her more than a second glance? Nervously, she settled her long hair over her shoulders, covering her wound and the peaks of her breasts. She hated this vulnerable feeling, hated showing him her need. Maybe she should forget the whole thing. Before she could act on the sudden case of nervousness, light spilled from the bathroom and Payton exited, clad only in jeans. His muscled chest, with the curly matted hair, glistened with moisture. He started to walk past the bed, then did a double take.
She patted the space beside her on the mattress.
He hesitated, but settled on the opposite side of the bed, eyeing her warily.
Tallulah slid down into the sheets and held out both arms to him.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “We don’t have to do anything. I’m okay with sleeping on the couch. Or leaving, if that’s what you want.”
“I want you,” she admitted, her voice strong and steady. “I’m as sure as I’ve ever been of anything in my life.”
Let tomorrow be its own worry. If it was the madness of the new moon, she’d accept responsibility in the light of day. Tonight, she craved Payton’s arms and passion.
Swiftly, he shed his jeans and underwear and slid in beside her.
“I’ll be careful of your injury,” he promised.
“I trust you.”
It was as simple and complicated as that. No matter their individual secrets, what was important now was the need to make love and explore the mystery of their bodies.
A hand slid down the curve of her hip. Her naked flesh tingled under his large, calloused palm. He brushed a lock of her hair from her breasts, exposing the rose-red peaks that hardened from his intense gaze.
“So beautiful,” he murmured.
She carefully ran a hand through the tuft of hair on his broad, powerful chest. “Payton,” she whispered. He was really here with her, desired her as much as she did him. She kissed the red welts at his neck, skimmed a finger across the dark shadows under his eyes and showered butterfly kisses along his left jaw, where a bruise was beginning to form.
Payton kissed her, claiming her lips. As exciting as his other kisses had been, there was no comparison to this one as they lay naked beside each other. She opened her mouth, felt the velvet warmth of his tongue as it skillfully swirled and danced with her own. She could kiss him forever.
He was careful to keep his weight on one arm as he tenderly explored her breasts. He sank down, planting his mouth on one of the hard buds, suckling and flicking his tongue over the sensitive areola. Fire exploded, a hot wire of nerves traveled like lightning to her core and her inner muscles tightened. A moan escaped her lips.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked huskily.
She shook her head and traced her fingers up and down the hard ridges of his back. His muscles tensed and rippled beneath her fingertips. Her hand shifted lower, caressing the toned muscles of his ass.
He moved out of her grasp, his long body sliding down her length, kissing the smooth plane of her abdomen. And then, lower still. His hot breath fanned her mound and caressed her womanly folds. Excitement pulsed in her core. By the time his mouth kissed her there, Tallulah gripped the bedsheets with clenched fists for mooring against her turbulent emotions. She was free-falling, racing for fulfillment, out of control. His tongue stroked the slick wet heat of her, undoing the little reserve that remained.
“Payton,” she breathed, loving the sound of his name on her lips. For now, she was all his. Damn the morning.
She ached to pleasure him as well. She tugged at his hair, signaling him to stop.
He didn’t.
Payton continued his ministrations and she arched and groaned, fully surrendering to the wild pleasure. Euphoria slammed into every pore of her body as she climaxed.
“Lulu.” Her name on his lips reverberated inside her body, a soothing emotional caress that said he was there with her, holding her as she broke apart in his arms. He rose up, hovering inches from her body, and kissed the swell of her breasts. She could feel the need and tension in his body. She parted her legs, urging him to enter.
Payton flipped onto his back, placing her so that she straddled his hips. “Your shoulder,” he explained, voice gravelly and taut with desire. “I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.”
Even in this, he sought to protect her, placed her needs above his own. She put her hand on his erection and guided it into her slick core. He drew in a sharp breath.
She raised and lowered on his hardness, watching his face grow tight with tension. He placed his hands on her hips, encouraging her to go faster, deeper. Her excitement built, the same passion matching Payton’s need. Their pace was frenzied until she burst once again. Payton drove into her twice more, long deep thrusts as he spilled into her hot, womanly core.
Tallulah rolled to the side, careful to land on her uninjured shoulder, and cuddled into his strong, muscled body. He stroked her hair, planted kisses on the top of her scalp. His rapid heartbeat drummed beneath her ear.
“That was amazing,” he breathed, pausing a moment. “For you, too?”
The odd vulnerability in his voice touched Tallulah. “Amazing,” she agreed, hastening to reassure him. “Any more amazing and I wouldn’t have survived it.”
He chuckled and squeezed her close. “Now that’s what I like to hear.”
Tallulah kissed his hair-roughened chest, inhaling the soapy, masculine scent and tasting the salty tang of his skin. A peaceful lethargy settled in her mind and body. Yawning, she stretched and wiggled her toes. “You are spending the night in my bed, right?”
“You couldn’t kick me out with a team of field mules.”
She giggled. “Now that’s what I like to hear,” she said, mimicking his earlier words.
* * *
His stomach roiled and his tongue was thick and coated from his last meal of possum. The raw repast disgusted him in the dawn’s light.
Russell rubbed his sore jaw, still aching from Payton’s blow the previous evening. His legs were useless appendages of jelly, exhausted from the midnight running. Several times, Matt had caught his scent, and capture had been a near thing. As much as Russell despised the heat and swampy conditions, the water had saved his ass as he’d run in circles and backtracked through the slimy morass.
Now what was he supposed to do?
At least it was a Monday—the pack would be on the timber-clearing site. But if they were smart—and they were—one or two would have been left behind to guard the farmhouse. He would have to lie in wait and look for an opportunity to sneak in, grab some clothes and find his truck keys. He wouldn’t feel safe again until there were a few miles between him and them.
As of today, the boundaries were clearly drawn between his former life and his homeless future without the pack. He’d been close enough to hear Matt and Payton discussing him last night. Close enough that they should have smelled his scent. But their high emotions had blocked them from using their wolf abilities to their fullest.
His ploy to play off Payton as the infected wolf hadn’t worked. Not that there had been much hope of deflecting suspicion. The evidence against him was overwhelming.
Damn them all to hell. Especially Payton and that bitch Tallulah. They would all pay, every last one. He’d been one of them—they had no right to kick him out of the pack. Not his fault he’d been bitten by another wolf in Montana and contracted the fever. And if they thought they could hole him away in that treatment prison, they could think again. He’d never go. Would rather die than have his freedom constricted to a sterile building of concrete and steel. Hell, no.
Already the sun baked his skin through his ripped T-shirt and jeans. Vomit and blood coated his clothes and he recoiled at the putrid scent. He raised an arm and sniffed. Fur and sweat assaulted his nostrils and made his eyes water.
Was this his life from now on? Reduced to an animal? Fighting for his next meal and constantly on the defensive for predators? Speaking of which... Russell’s gaze swept the ground, fully expecting to find a coiled rattlesnake. A miracle he hadn’t been bitten while on the run last night.
Again, his gut bubbled, protesting against the possum that he’d never fully digested as he fled his pursuers. He vomited again, mostly dry heaves. He spit out the vile aftertaste. His tongue was gritty and throat parched.
Water.
Thirst consumed him. Russell eyed
the green, algae-infested swamp water and licked his lips. Disgusting as the water appeared, it tempted him, teased him with the promise of wet. No doubt it teemed with parasites and bacterial hazards. A cauldron of intestinal disaster.
Turning away, he stumbled toward the clearing by the farmhouse. His jellied legs tripped over an oak root and he fell to the ground.
“Son of a bitch,” he cursed. “Mother—”
He stopped. How stupid to scream. If someone was near, he would have to run again, a race he was sure to lose in this weakened condition. Russell leaned against a tree, gathering his strength should he need to take off. His pulse raced and his breathing was rushed, as loud and labored as a brisk breeze.
He listened intently for the even the smallest disturbance of sound—a snapped twig, the brushing of a boot against pine needles. His fingers twitched and his teeth ground together. At the prolonged silence, Russell shoved off and continued on his journey. Near the clearing, he dropped to the ground and rubbed his temples, where engorged blood pounded his veins. The first warning sign of dehydration. If an opportunity didn’t soon present itself for sneaking into the house, he’d have to force his way in and kill.
Rage and fury corded the muscles of his neck and he wiped away the sweat stinging his eyes. “I’ll get you. Every last one of you. This is your fault, not mine.”
The pack should have protected him from the lycanthropic fever outbreak. He’d done them a favor by not infecting them. All the nights he’d sneaked out, he could easily have entered their rooms, bitten them in their sleep.
A pounding roared in his ears as he watched the house. Russell grabbed a pinecone and dug his palms into the rough shell, the pain a distraction from the headache. In the driveway, there was only one vehicle. Adam’s. The luck of the damned was finally with him. The youngest of the pack was the weakest. He’d bet anything the guy was taking the opportunity to sleep in while everyone else toiled in the hot sun.
And if Adam were awake...too bad. Russell felt the tight smile stretch the skin on his dirty face. Because whatever it took, he was getting something to drink, and grabbing a fresh change of clothes, a wallet and truck keys.
Bayou Wolf Page 11