Zombie Moon

by Lori Devoti

  She pressed her palm over the spot. “How…? Is…?” Shaking her head, she stared at it and murmured, “I thought you were shot.”

  He captured her hand and rubbed his thumb over her palm. “I heal fast.”

  Samantha’s gaze riveted onto what should have been a gory, bleeding mess. Heal fast? No one healed that fast.

  Her heart jumped. Something wasn’t right…couldn’t be right. She inched away from him, but couldn’t seem to get her body to move as she knew she should. Couldn’t gather up the strength to dash out the door.

  He stared down at her palm. “Your hands are tiny and your bones are so fine,” he murmured. “Is that why you picked a gun so small?”

  Gun. Her gun. She couldn’t concentrate on what he was asking. His touch and the doubt that had bubbled up when she had seen his wound warred for her attention. She had nothing left to answer his questions.

  Nothing left to do anything.

  He found her other hand and rubbed it against his cheek.

  His face was rough with stubble.

  She stared at the growth. It circled his lips, made them stand out, look smooth and tempting. She wanted to press hers against his, to slip her tongue in between them.

  Moisture formed between her legs. She shifted in place, tried to hide the desire that was flaming to life inside her.

  She didn’t know him. She was lying to him. Sleeping with him…that would just be wrong.

  With no warning, he grabbed her by the base of her neck and pulled her face down to meet his. Then his lips touching hers, his tongue slipping into her mouth, he pulled her body down, too, until she was lying flush against him.

  All thought of right and wrong, natural and unnatural, fled from her mind.

  Caleb could feel every inch of Samantha’s curves through her thin clothing. But he still wanted that clothing off.

  He reached for the bottom of her shirt and tugged the tight material off of her in one smooth, sweeping motion.

  She didn’t object. In fact, she helped him, throwing the unwanted garment to the side before settling back down on top of him.

  He ran his hands down her sides. She was thin but muscular, sleek like a dancer or a female werewolf. He paused, wondering, then pushed the errant thought from his head. That would be too easy.

  And Caleb’s life was never easy.

  Accepting that Samantha would be like every other one-stop hookup he’d ever had, he leaned up and nuzzled his lips between her breasts.

  She still wore her bra—a simple thing that like her shirt pulled on, and off, over her head. He slid his hands under its bottom band and ran his thumbs over the tips of her breasts.

  She arched her back and moved her body so she straddled him.

  His erection pulsed against his pants as her sex rubbed over him. He ached to be free, but feared, despite her seemingly eager acceptance of what was about to happen, too quick of a move would scare her away.

  Like any prey, she had to be stalked, watched, coaxed.

  And like with any hunt, that extra effort would make the outcome all that much sweeter.

  He slipped her bra up, releasing her breasts.

  They were small, but round and perfect. He teased the tips with his thumbs while nibbling along her neck. She placed her hands on his shoulders and shifted her weight again, rubbing against him again.

  His groin tightened. He wanted to yank her remaining clothing from her body and thrust himself inside of her.

  But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

  She moaned and he moved his lips from her throat to her breast. He twirled his tongue around one perfect nipple.

  Nothing had ever tasted so good.

  She leaned down and blew into his ear.

  He shivered and clutched at her backside. Her butt was like the rest of her, the muscles firm and round where they should be. No skinny model here. She ate and used her body, built it into something that made the wolf in him want to snap and howl. She made him want to snap and howl, to leave his mark on her so all others would know she was his.

  His. The word vibrated through his mind. His…

  He pulled her lips to his and lost himself in her kiss. He tried to forget that he wasn’t what she thought. The beauty that she was could never accept him, the beast.

  Wrong. Stupid. Liar.

  The words pecked at Samantha’s conscience.

  Caleb’s hands were gentle on her skin, stroked her back and buttocks as if she were made of spun sugar and might dissolve under his touch.

  And she right. She had never felt a fire like what grew inside her with each of his kisses, each of his touches.

  How could she so desperately want a man she knew so little about, a man she was about to betray…had betrayed?

  And how could she have so little control over her own body and mind that at this moment she didn’t care about anything but having him?

  She closed her eyes and let the war wage in silence inside her.

  Caleb’s lips trailed down her neck; his hand found her breast.

  Her fingernails scraped over his chest.

  She couldn’t stop herself, wouldn’t stop herself.

  Whatever this was, whatever the reason she was driven to do this, she had no intention of stopping.

  Decision made, she jerked her workout bra off and over her head then rolled onto her side. Facing him she slipped her thumb under the waist of her yoga pants and inched them down her hips.

  As she did, she watched him, appreciated the admiration she saw in his eyes. She reveled in the power his enjoyment of each of her moves gave her.

  Then fully naked she trailed her fingers down his chest and let them dance over the skin of his lower abdomen. His pants had come unsnapped, making it clear he wore no underwear. She wanted to grab the opening in both hands and rip his zipper open like a crazed dieter tearing into a bag of chocolates. She wanted to lick and nibble and explore every inch of him.

  She wanted to stroke him and feel him stroke her. Then when she knew his body as well as she knew her own, she wanted to sling her leg over his hip, guide his erection into her core and thrust herself down until he was trapped deep inside of her. Then she would move and scream and come and do everything her manner-schooled southern self told her she shouldn’t do.

  Then she wanted to do all of it over and over again.

  Chapter 10

  C aleb curled his fingers into the quilt beneath him to keep from jerking Samantha back on top of him. Her fingers danced inches from where he ached to feel her touch, but he held still, let her have the moment and the control.

  His body shook with desire. His muscles clenched. His mind screamed and he just lay there dying for the torture to go on and on.

  She leaned over him and pressed her lips to his stomach. Her hair brushed his skin; her breath warmed him.

  Her tongue lapped at him. She drew tiny, excruciating circles of moisture where seconds earlier her fingers had teased.

  Then slowly her hand drifted to the closure of his pants. As she pulled the zipper down, he knew he couldn’t contain himself anymore, couldn’t fight off the need to touch her anymore.

  He rolled onto his side and jerked his pants from his body. As his erection sprang free, he looped his arm around her waist and pulled her body against his.

  Then he kissed her, deep and hard, let every bit of pent-up desire free. He growled and nibbled at her lips, murmured things he knew she couldn’t hear, that he didn’t want her to hear, but that he couldn’t stop himself from saying. Words of love and desire and lifetime mates. Words that came from some part of his brain he’d never realized existed, but his wolf had. His wolf knew what was happening. His wolf knew what it wanted.

  And for right now, Caleb was going to give that want to the beast.

  He rolled again so she was under him, slipped his leg between hers and nudged her with his sex. She opened for him, not shy but eager, grabbed him and guided him inside her. Then she lifted her hips and met each of his thrusts with a ne
ed and vigor he’d thought only he could feel.

  She moaned and scraped her nails over his back. She arched and threw back her head.

  And then as he thrust inside her, harder and faster, she grabbed at him and bit his shoulder.

  Her teeth sank into his skin and a roar escaped his throat. He bit her back, holding on to her neck with his teeth as he thrust one last time and exploded inside her.

  Then as tiny puffs of air and release left her lips he held her, clung to her and wished like hell he didn’t ever have to let her go.

  Samantha awoke to droning buzz.

  Her eyelids flew open. She was in a dark room, lying on a hard bed. Beneath her, rough cloth scratched at her naked skin. And draped over her stomach was a warm, masculine arm. Caleb Locke’s arm.

  As her awareness of her reality grew, the buzzing continued. It was low, but annoying, like a malfunctioning speaker set heavy on the bass.

  She glanced at the dresser. The sound was coming from there, from where she had stashed her coat.

  A lump formed in her throat. Her hands went to Caleb’s arm. He didn’t move. He seemed completely oblivious to the hideous noise.

  She edged his arm off of her body. He stirred. She stilled, and his eyes flickered open. Sleep had softened them. Seemed to have softened all of him. His hair was ruffled and his lips curved into a tiny half-moon of a smile. “Sam,” he murmured.

  “Caleb,” she replied, her gaze darting to the dresser and back.

  “You’re still here,” he added.

  The buzz grew louder and more insistent.

  Her fingers on his arms tensed. “Of course.”

  His brows drew together. “What’s wrong?” He made a move to get up.

  He didn’t hear the noise, she realized. Swallowing, she placed her hand on his chest. Like his arm, it was warm and smooth and hard. Touching him reminded her of what they had done the night before, and that made her swallow again. She curled her fingers into her palm and pulled back her hand.

  She couldn’t stand to touch him, not with the monotonous buzz sounding in the background.

  “Nothing,” she replied, tentative, still not sure that he couldn’t hear the noise, too, that he wasn’t laying some trap for her. “I…I just need to use the bathroom.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  She could feel his gaze on her bare back. She glanced over her shoulder at him. His eyes were filled with invitation.

  She turned to stare at the wall. “I…I just need to get something.” She scooped her clothes from the floor and hurried to the dresser and her coat. With the coat in her grasp, she turned toward the bathroom.

  Caleb stood in front of her, naked and one hundred percent alert. “Your coat? You need it for the bathroom?”

  Outside of the insulating wood of the drawer, the buzz was even louder. Samantha could feel the vibrations in her teeth.

  She jerked the coat on. “I…I don’t have any other clothes. I thought I’d wash what I do have.” She held up the yoga outfit she’d worn through two zombie attacks and an hour squatting behind a sign in the woods. The state of the material spoke for itself. “I thought I’d wear this while they dried.” She fingered the belt of the coat.

  Caleb angled his head to study her.

  The buzzing was so loud now Samantha was beginning to wonder if it was real or if she had stepped into her own personal Edgar Allan Poe-inspired nightmare with a modern buzzing cylinder replacing the beating heart.

  Finally, when she thought she couldn’t stand the noise any longer, when she was seconds from ripping off her coat and slamming the offending metal object into the wall, Caleb replied. “We’ll have to fix that.”

  She waited, sure it wouldn’t be that simple, sure once she started to move away he would stop her again, but as she nodded and took a step toward the bathroom, he did nothing, just watched her go.

  Forcing her steps to stay measured, she walked into the bathroom and clicked the door closed behind her. Then she twisted on the shower and with the water pounding into the tiny tub behind her, she ripped off her coat and clawed at the lining where the cylinder was hidden.

  Red letters flashed at her from a black strip on the cylinder’s side. Ten digits separated into three groups. A phone number.

  The doctor wanted her to call.

  She wrapped her hand around the thing. A tiny spike of metal had popped out of one end. She moved her thumb over it, but hesitated. She didn’t know what would happen if she pressed it. The buzzing might stop, but the number might disappear, too. Or the entire cylinder could blow up.

  Deciding she was willing to risk the latter to get rid of the buzzing, she set to work memorizing the number. Once she was confident she had it stored in her mind, she pressed her thumb against the knob.

  There was a click, like pressing the end of a ballpoint pen, and the buzzing stopped. No explosion. No smoke. Just blessed silence.

  She lowered her head and murmured a prayer of relief. Then she stored the cylinder back into the lining of her coat and hurried into the shower. After quickly cleansing her body and clothes, she left the yoga pants and shirt hanging in the shower, slipped on her coat and walked back into the room.

  Caleb was waiting for her, fully dressed and leaning against the motel room’s door. His arms were crossed over his chest and she knew with zero doubt that he was onto her.

  “Better?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  He stalked forward.

  Her fingers twitched. She could feel the cylinder hanging heavy in her coat’s lining and wondered if he could see the bulge.

  He ran the backs of his fingers down her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he murmured.

  “Sorry?” She breathed the word. Standing this close to him, knowing under her coat she was naked, she had a hard time forming a thought much less replying coherently. But she had to. She had to think of something to say that would buy her time away from him, enough time to dial the damn number that had flashed at her in the bathroom.

  If she didn’t, there was no telling what would happen next. How many zombies would be pounding on their door?

  He leaned closer. His breath tickled her skin. She shivered and swayed toward him. She realized what she was doing and what continuing on this track would bring—pleasure, warmth, hours in his arms.

  But that was time she didn’t have. Not if she wanted to keep the cylinder from buzzing or doing whatever it would do next to get her attention.

  She jerked away.

  Caleb’s hand hung in midair where he’d been millimeters from touching her. The soft, luring expression of his face hardened. His eyes shuttered. He pulled back and dropped his hand to his side.

  “You need clothing,” he said.

  Surprised, Samantha only blinked in response. Then realizing it was a way to get time to make her call, she fingered the collar of her coat. “I do, but I can’t go out like this.”

  He glanced at the bathroom then back at her coat. “I’ll get them,” he replied.

  Easy. Too easy, but Samantha didn’t have time to question her luck. She also didn’t have time to remove the money she had tucked inside the coat’s lining. “I can pay you,” she started.

  With a shrug, Caleb cut her off. “I don’t need money.” He stalked toward the door.

  Samantha opened her mouth to say she wouldn’t wear stolen clothes, that the thought of it made her stomach ache, but then she remembered where she was and what she had already done.

  Shoplifting was far from her greatest sin lately.

  Plus, she needed Caleb to leave now.

  She pressed her lips together and swallowed her objection.

  Then with the door closed behind him, she went to get dressed.

  Caleb stood outside the motel door, feeling cold and alone. This morning when he woke next to Samantha, it had felt right. He had felt right. At peace. A hunger, the gnawing need to roam that had engulfed him since his family had been killed and he’d become a werewolf had disappeared
.

  It was the first time since that day that he hadn’t awoken with revenge at the forefront of his mind.

  He had been…happy.

  But then Samantha had stepped away and he’d realized how stupid he was, how easily he had fallen for the seductive trap that she had set.

  He’d thought he was hardened to hurt, couldn’t feel such emotions anymore, but he had been wrong.

  He had felt that single step back as painfully as if she’d had her fingers dug into his heart when she made it.

  He clenched his fists and cursed his own stupidity.

  His wolf had been wrong, and he had been a fool for listening to the beast.

  Not only couldn’t Samantha accept what he was, the secret she didn’t know, but she didn’t even care for the man she did know.

  Her tender touches and blazing responses were lies.

  And he had fallen for them.

  But not again. Never again. After today, he knew her game, or at least her methods. Now he had to discover what she was playing for.

  With that in mind he pressed his ear to the cool glass of their room’s window and listened. There were noises inside…a door opening and closing, soft murmurs of annoyance and finally footsteps coming toward the door.

  Realizing she was leaving the room, he leaped backward, securing a place in the shadows, near a broken ice machine, seconds before the door to their room opened and Samantha stepped out into the wintry air.

  Samantha shivered as she stepped into the chilly morning air. Her yoga pants seemed to instantly freeze to her skin. She grabbed the collar of her coat and slipped one side under the other, trying to cover as much of her skin as possible, but with her clothes and hair still wet it did little good.

  She was sure she would be blue by the time she was done with this errand. Her hands shoved deep into her pockets, she scurried down the sidewalk toward the office. She had no cell phone and knowing any long-distance calls she placed from the room would be billed to Caleb, she couldn’t call from there. So she had to find another phone.