Find, Wolf growled.
He's never going to shut up. I took the squeaking stairs in one step and a hop then headed for the dark mass of the barn.
Nothing.
The pregnant ass hawed.
Well, who could blame her for bitching that her mate was gone? I'd rip down walls and throw ceilings if someone had stolen the life from mine.
Mine, Wolf whispered.
Quiet. And just find her. You'd think the beast could focus. We can't track her without scent or sound at night.
So I managed to keep him busy long enough to tread through the barn and skirt the garden. Still nothing. Time to see if she's busied herself cleaning inside the still.
Not a speck of light met me at the still's entrance. I scanned the large dark space.
A thin barely-visible line of light sketched out the base of the wine cellar's door.
She's with the wine.
Play, Wolf yapped.
You'll have to settle on checking on her. I shoved the door wide.
To a pitiful sight. She was sprawled out in a lawn chair, her boots propped upon a low empty shelf, her head leaning slightly back and hanging off the back of the chair, one arm dangling yet clutching a dark green wine bottle where the bottle's base leaned against the concrete floor. Hopefully, that's the only bottle she'd emptied before passing out. Or we'd have to leave her in bed tomorrow.
Wolf whimpered.
Just settle down and let me put her to bed. I think. She's a sharp shooter. I'd hate for her to suddenly stir and plant a bullet between my eyes. She'd be none the wiser all self-medicated. I slid an arm beneath her chest.
One awfully annoying chest that begged Wolf nuzzle against the curves. I shook my head free of the notion and tried to worm my other arm beneath her knees.
She stirred with a jolt and snapped into a swaying sitting position, her free hand wrapped around my shoulder.
Leaning into me. Squinting just enough to show she was here. Somewhat.
"Colt?" Her body swayed left. She seemed to catch the motion and snapped right until sitting upright.
"It's me." Could she even hear me?
A smile danced upon her lips. "I thought it was you." But her body betrayed her and turned into jelly. She slipped sideways, all the while maintaining an anchoring hold on my shoulder.
She almost seemed seductive. It's kind of nice after she was stewing all day. "You've had too much wine. I'm going to take you up to the house."
"No," she almost howled and pulled herself back up to almost touch my nose with hers. She stared me in the eye with the look of full cognizance, puffing warm breaths of life at my mouth. "I think I'd rather stay here." She blinked.
Almost playfully. The cognizance in her gaze graded into superficial happiness. The kind Normals find when burying themselves in a bottle.
Play, Wolf begged, scratching at the underside of my ribs.
Nobody needs to play. I owe that much to Buck. "Well, you don't seem capable of making decisions."
"Oh!" She practically scoffed, but her face didn't seem to want to cooperate. Her grip on my shoulder yielded, then she traced a fingertip along my cheek. "I make decisions all the time."
For some reason, I just knew that topic would lead to men making Gods-be-damned decisions for her. And the way she hovered so closely was bound to start working on Wolf.
Lips. Soft lips. Those have to be the softest lips.
Her body jolted from the chair in one erratic leap.
To land squarely in a kneeling position between my thighs where I squatted.
This is bad. Really bad. Because she pressed that slim little form of hers right into my crotch.
Gods-damn! Both my crotch and chest. Where those soft mounds of her chest, her squeezable breasts, haunted my helpful hands that steadied her body upright.
My damned hands. Two things that shouldn't be in this room.
"Hello, gorgeous," she slurred at my cock.
If Wolf wasn't ripping my chest open, I'd probably laugh at the irony of the setting.
One of her arms, the one still clutching the neck of the green bottle, had snaked around my neck to anchor her like a sneaky monkey lurking in a tree. The other hand slithered across the back of my shaved head.
The pressure from her curious palm set my groin throbbing like a bomb ticking off the last precious moments it had on this alien-infested planet. Or Wolf is making his presence known. Trouble. This is worse than facing a few armed aliens and their kick-butt weapons we can't beat.
"Well?" She chuckled and somehow, slowly, agonizingly, rose to touch the tip of that nose of hers to mine.
Something wickedly eerie crept across every millimeter of my skin.
Guilt. That's fucking guilt, Wolf.
But he just stretched my cock out to the maximum limit where it twisted quite uncomfortably at the side of my crotch.
Good. This doesn't need to feel good.
Still he fought to squeeze through the tiny hole in the tip of my cock. The bastard. He's going to have to rip through there because I'm not letting him out. Then I'd bleed out. Yes. Die like the fucked-up brother I am.
"Oh, Colt," she whispered. "Don't you want to kiss me?"
Those half-shuttered blue gems of hers pleaded with me to follow through with her suggestion. But she didn't stop with a plea. No. She latched those hungry velvet lips onto my mouth and held my head firmly in place with her palm.
A seriously strong hand. But she's drunk. So wasted that her kiss had degraded into one sloppy attempt to lure my tongue out.
Mine! Mine! Wolf chanted.
Like he slurped deeply from a watering hole laced with locoweed. And Gods help me, my self-control is wearing thin. So thin, I found myself sucking on her tongue with two handfuls of iron little female tail.
She tasted good. Perfect. With just a hint of wine and a whole lot of mine. I wanted to throw her down, wrap those long legs of hers around my waist, and roll. Hump. Can't. Buck's woman. And any moment my fucking cock would explode. Must stop. Have to stop. I shoved her needy mouth away from mine and stared down into the almost-closed eyes that would haunt me until my dying day.
Her eyes closed. Her head slung backward.
Thank the stars. A not-so-demanding form would help me do what needed to be done. And I'd salvage my sanity. I carried her light weight out into the cool moonlight.
Stars. Lots of stars to ponder after the alien invasion. Who lived where? What did they want from earthlings? What did they do with the ninety percent of the humans they carried away in those first few days after their arrival?
A hum and a whir caught my inner mind.
Gripped the heart beating in my chest with an icy fist. Aliens.
A spacecraft zipped into the eastern sky and made its way toward the homestead.
Shit. I've got to get Raven and the old man into that hidden subterranean room. Hopefully, it's deep enough to survive a termination ray. And, hopefully, they have plenty of supplies buried deeply enough to hold them over a while too. I snatched her unconscious form closer and hurried toward the house.
Thomas isn't the kind of Normal to risk everything. Surely there's a safe place deep enough beneath the earth's surface.
The spacecraft buzzed overhead and continued westward, until disappearing altogether.
It's hard to believe after what I've been through today that nothing came of that spacecraft's appearance. I'd discuss it with Thomas when his mind's clear tomorrow. I carried her into the main house, past the snoring tinker, into her room lit with firelight from a fireplace in a wall the main living area and her room shared, and placed her on the neatly-made bed.
She still clutched the green wine bottle.
So tightly I just left her arm dangling on the floor in hopes that if she released it the glass vessel would roll under her bed. Because, damn it, I care about her too much now. But she's trapped in that bottle. Succumbed to the wine. Talking about things that make no sense. I just need to leave. Pretend the kis
s never happened. Think about the spacecraft and aliens. I pivoted.
Slowly enough to see the firelight kiss the shiny objects on the mantle. Things a woman loved. Small replicas of people and animals as well as a crystal carriage. Knowing these things about her is the worse kind of temptation. I don't need to know what she likes. What she'd want for gifts. I closed my eyes and darted back through her door.
Thomas hadn't budged where he weighted his bed down.
Well, I guess there's nothing to do but stay awake on lookout. I settled onto the almost-comforting hard wood of a squeaking rocking chair and gazed at the flickering stars in the black sky.
Teasing stars. It's like they were flirting with me the way Raven had.
Females shouldn't drink. They get into trouble. Rather, stir up far more than simply existing. Buck needs to get his tail here fast before that sweet little thing sets Wolf loose on her tail. I don't know if I can control him after she kissed me.
Why did she do it? She knew who I was.
Mine, Wolf whispered.
As if he had a plan. As if he lured Raven to him.
I should never have sent Buck away. The next few days are going to be so Gods-be-damned torturous. I'm just going to have to respect Raven and try to maintain distance between her and Wolf.
****
A pounding in my head woke me with a start. Well, I guess that's not true because I kind of slithered around the bed as if I was a log that was supposed to roll. Roll off the bed, body. Move. More. This feels horrible. Like my head didn't care I was dying here. Shouldn't body parts cooperate? This is all Thomas' fault. It must be after the uncle crap he pulled yesterday.
Thomas' voice laughed in the living room.
Speak of the devil, he loves to say. Well, his wound hadn't killed him during the night. Maybe he would have been luckier to die because I'm going to give him antibiotics. A nice harpoon loaded down with the fanciest antibiotics someone's junk was worth in trade.
My temple throbbed.
Oh yes. This is Thomas' fault. I slid a hand to the side of the bed and clawed my fingers into the wooden sideboard.
Time to rise and shine with a sparkling harpoon. I pulled my body to the bed's edge and stared up at the ceiling's shadows.
Daylight poured through the window because I hadn't had enough sense about me last night to close the shutters. Someone could have broken into the homestead and beat my window to bits. Would Thomas do anything? Probably not the way he was downing morphine.
My head throbbed.
I can't even begin to wonder more with this hangover. What in the hell had I drank? Is there any wine left? I remember putting one empty bottle in the wash bin. But that means nothing. After one bottle, I usually forget what happened.
Thomas. Thomas. Trying to send me away! That's what this is about. I'm going to roll over, body. I heaved, pushing with an elbow, digging a heel into the soft mattress.
The room spun.
Too much. I grabbed my swimming head and shut my eyes.
My gut shuddered and tried to heave me back over.
I must have drank every last drop of wine I'd stored. So much for a season's work. It's going to be all down the toilet. Literally.
Never again. Universe, I will make the stuff. But it will never again pass these lips. I promise. Just make the insanity stop. Help me find my uncle to ensure he doesn't die. So I can torture him for the rest of his long life.
My head finally decided to play nice and gave me a little breather. I opened my eyes.
And stared at an empty green wine bottle. Bad. Bad. No more wine. How had I gotten here without dropping that bottle and falling on the broken glass? And to think I missed a golden opportunity to die while in a state of numbness. Life can sure play games with a person. And I swear if that wasn't Thomas laughing, life would be laughing in my face. I managed to heave my body into a somewhat sitting position without toppling onto the floor.
And for some strange reason, I had the forethought not to undress for bed. Good. But people don't sleepwalk when passed out from being drunk. Do they? Now to get up and do what must be done.
Feed the animals.
Muck out the stalls.
Pick vegetables.
Dry vegetables.
Put dinner in the solar oven to cook.
I need to wash my bloody clothing.
And the still hasn't been set back into production.
My head throbbed with another defeating wave of demand.
How will I even begin? Gravity is shoving my body down before I even try to rise.
A knock rattled at my door.
Probably Thomas. "Go away."
"Breakfast is ready," a welcoming male tone claimed.
Colt. All those big glorious muscles had knocked at my door, and I didn't even open it to get a good close look at them. Wait, he's mated. Why bother looking? Why bother caring? Where's the damned wine when I need it? And then there's the whole eating thing.
My gut roiled.
No. No eating.
"Come now, Raven," Thomas called. "Colt's spent the better part of an hour cooking breakfast. Come on out and thank him."
Why does that man sound so cheery? But Colt hadn't done anything to deserve my rudeness. So, I better go thank him. At least for saving Thomas 's ornery hide.
****
My little wisp of paradise had blown away leaving that little female in one sad state of misery. The cautious way she walked across the room without looking at anything but the floor revealed her hangover had no intention of letting go. Good thing Shifters lose their minds when drinking too much or we'd suffer like Normals. I don't remember the last time I had more than two beers at a time. Just what had she consumed?
"Feel like dying?" Thomas chimed where he sat on the edge of his bed.
The fool.
"That reminds me," she muttered and headed over to open the secret door.
Thomas shot me a wink.
Unwise. He's going to make things worse if he gets caught making fun of Raven. He must have read my thoughts in my stare because he extended backward to lie on his side, then rolled onto his good arm until he could lay on his belly. Why? To hide his foolhardy expressions? Maybe he thought he wouldn't comment if he didn't see us. I doubt that. I suppose it'll be entertaining watching the outcome.
It wasn't long before zombie Raven shuffled back through the doorway and headed toward her uncle. With a syringe. Nice. Shiny metallic. Definitely sterile given a tinker wasn't about to have shabby equipment.
Her speed never altered
But something told me there was one interesting facial expression hidden from my view the way her face was carefully turned away from my censure. Yes, something about that white swab of cloth in her other hand.
All in the same breath, she grabbed Thomas' waistband with the hand holding the cloth, yanked it downward, and jabbed the needed so forcefully into the man's ass that the old codger shoving upward with his good arm, curling his back toward Raven in what seemed like a ballet move. Not something that meshed with the man's howl.
"Lay down before you die," Raven snarled and released her grip on his waistband. "You don't want to cross me again. It's bed rest for you until I say otherwise. No more wandering. No more administering your medication. I do everything."
So the white cloth obviously had something to clean his skin. Alcohol of some sort. These people definitely know what they're doing out here in the middle of nowhere.
Thomas' cry of pain dwindled as he sucked in a breath and lowered his chest back to the crumpled beige sheets he'd slept upon. "You call that the act of an angel of mercy?" he demanded. "I believe you're confused and need to do a little more historical research."
She shuffled toward the table with an eye roll, then tossed the syringe on the table's roughly-hewn wood. "Maybe I will do more research. Or I'll fix your damned still and let you play with it next week. Only if you're good and follow orders though."
"Well can I eat at the table, Nurse He
lga?" he demanded.
She grabbed her forehead with one palm and teetered.
Probably wishing she hadn't swam in wine last night.
She turned back to her room's open doorway and began to shuffle. "I'll let you know when I return."
"Well how long do you think you'll need to sleep off that damned hangover?" Thomas bellowed.
She shut the door.
I'll just feed the tinker and get back to work.
****
By the time I could walk with my chin up, I found Thomas in bed where I'd left him. Colt was gone. So were my pistols.
"He's in the garden picking vegetables," Thomas announced.
As if I had asked. Or would have asked about Colt. I suppose Thomas is still trying to match me off with the Shifter. "He's mated. You're wasting your time."
Thomas scoffed. "He's not mated. None of them are."
Like he would really know. Time to wash the dishes and get to work. Not to mention find where Thomas undoubtedly hid my pistols. He probably feared I'd use a bullet instead of a needle next! I turned to the haze formed by the warm sunlight shafting through the kitchen window.
"There's leftovers in the pot. Colt's a good cook. And he's well-trained in healing."
Why won't he stop? I managed to almost whirl and set one vehement glare on my old uncle. "He is mated. Stop trying to match us up."
"You're wrong."
I wish I was. I stared for effect.
"I'm telling you, Raven, he's the best thing this side of the Mississippi."
Like I need to be told that. "I can assess people for myself." I blinked once to warn him not to go there.
"If you could, you'd realize he sent his brothers away. Away, Raven. And he's here alone with a useless old man and one beautiful young woman. Why do you think he'd stay with us?"
No winks. Thomas was dead serious. He'd be really dead if he kept up this conversation. Good thing he hid my pistols. I turned to the countertop and spied the sink.
Empty. So much for chores inside.
"He washed the dishes," Thomas noted.
"Of course he did." He's so damned perfect. He wouldn't leave the sink full of dishes with a hung over woman incapable of crawling out of bed and a one-armed man who couldn't wash said dishes. I'm as useless as Thomas. Well, I'll just do something else. I slid my gaze to the white-washed glass of the window and looked for something to do.
Blackberry Wine Page 6