Crave the Moon

by Lori Handeland

  Much.

  “We’ve got bigger problems than this, Jase. Don’t tell me you left the window unguarded to come up here and—” Her lip curled; she couldn’t help it. “Kiss me.”

  She wanted to wipe her hand across her lips; she wanted to jump in the shower and wash off the slurpy feeling his touch had left all over her skin. “You need to go downstairs.”

  “I don’t take orders from you. I’m just an employee, so I guess I take orders from—”

  “Me.”

  Both of them turned as Teo stepped into the room.

  * * *

  From the paleness of Gina’s face, more had gone on here than an argument about who was the boss of whom. Which was all that Matt had heard upon arrival. But he hadn’t liked the tone of McCord’s voice, one he’d never heard the man direct at Gina before.

  “Go downstairs,” Matt ordered, but his gaze remained locked on Gina’s. Physically she seemed all right, but her eyes … Matt didn’t like the sadness that lurked there. A sadness that had been caused by her best friend in the world.

  The best friend had to go. If necessary, Matt would make him. Matt thought he might enjoy it.

  For an instant, McCord hesitated, and Matt thought, Please take a swing at me. Just one. Then the man cursed and stomped out the door. Matt reached over and shut it behind him, flicking the lock for good measure.

  Gina stared at the closed door, confusion pushing the sadness from her eyes. “That was so unlike him.”

  Matt crossed the room, setting his hands on her shoulders, frowning when she tensed. “What did he do?”

  She stepped out of Matt’s reach, and his frown intensified. He didn’t like this at all. “If he hurt you—”

  “No,” she said, but she rubbed at her arms as if she were freezing. “I think I hurt him.”

  “He looked fine to me.”

  Her lips curved, but she was still so sad. “All he wants is for me to love him, Teo, and I can’t, because—” She broke off, biting her lip, then turning to stare through the window at the setting moon. “It’ll be dawn soon.”

  “Why can’t you love him, Gina?”

  “I do love him,” she insisted, and Matt’s heart stuttered. He’d been hoping— “But not the way he needs me to. When he kissed me, I—”

  “He kissed you?” Fury blasted through Matt, stronger and sharper than any he’d ever known. She was his. She always would be.

  “Yeah,” she said, and faced him. “It was awful.”

  “Really?” He lifted a brow. “Why’s that?”

  “Because he wasn’t you.”

  This time when Matt reached for her, she came into his arms, burrowing against his chest with a sigh.

  “I know we’ve got problems—big, toothy, deadly problems—and I want to hear what you found out from whoever Isaac called. But right now…” She leaned back. “Kiss me. Touch me. Make me forget that I probably just lost Jase forever.”

  Matt didn’t think McCord would be so foolish as to throw away any part of Gina he could get—her friendship was better than nothing—but he also hadn’t thought the man would be so stupid as to force a kiss on her.

  Matt had to agree. That wasn’t like McCord. Of course everyone snapped eventually. And if Matt had been in love with Gina and she hadn’t loved him back …

  Matt set his hand against her cheek. He was in love with Gina. The thought of her kissing McCord made him crazy. The sadness in her eyes made him want to move heaven and earth to erase it.

  Matt framed her face with his palms and lowered his lips to hers.

  Her taste was woman and warmth; her mouth opened, welcoming him in. She lifted her arms, tangling her fingers in his hair, pressing her unbound breasts to his chest. He went hard instantly.

  Memories flickered. The two of them in the tent, their first time, which had been more about lust than love. However, those memories enhanced; they didn’t distract. Because of them he knew that scraping his thumb just so, along the lip of her collarbone, would make her breath catch.

  When he palmed her hips he remembered how he’d palmed them that night as he’d slid into her, filling her, stretching her, making her come. She’d been so tight, so hot.

  Hell. If he didn’t stop thinking about that night, her on her knees, her breasts swaying, her—

  Matt cursed and lifted his mouth before he lost control and tossed her onto the bed, tore off her clothes, and did her exactly the same way all over again.

  “Shh,” she whispered, mouth searching for more, hands in his hair insistent, bringing his lips gradually, achingly, back to hers.

  “Gina,” he protested. “I want to be slow, gentle. I want you to know how I feel.”

  “I already know how you feel.” She cupped him through his pants—when had one of her hands left his hair?—then ran a fingernail along his sac. He thought he might faint or, at the least, disgrace himself right then and there.

  He grabbed her wrist, meaning to pull her away, but when she licked the line of his lips with just the tip of her tongue he had a change of heart. Instead, he laid his hand over hers and pulled it closer. There was something strangely erotic about using her hand to touch himself. From the curve of her mouth and the enthusiasm of the continued touching, she agreed.

  His dreams of slow and gentle evaporated. He wasn’t going to last that long.

  As if she could read his mind, she removed her hand and stepped back. “They’ll be looking for us soon.”

  She was right. Matt was surprised McCord hadn’t started pounding on the door already, or at least sent his mother to do it. He ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah. We should stop.”

  “Stop?” Gina, whose fingers had just gone to the hem of her T-shirt, laughed. “I meant we should hurry.”

  Matt hesitated. Despite the call of his body to do just that, he didn’t want to hurry. He wasn’t going to. People could pound on the door all they wanted, but this time he was going to make love to Gina the way he’d never made love to anyone before.

  As if he meant it. Because he loved her and he believed that she loved him. In this strange, uncertain world they’d tumbled into, love might be the one thing they had to hold on to.

  He put his hands over hers. She glanced up, a question in her dark eyes. “Let me.”

  She smiled and lifted her arms.

  He undressed her as if they had hours, touching and kissing, loving every inch as it was revealed. Within minutes, she’d forgotten about hurrying. He kind of thought she’d forgotten about everything.

  Except them.

  He herded her to the bed, and when her knees hit the mattress all it took was a little push for her to fall. Her laughter caused his belly to flutter. She had forgotten all that waited outside this room. Now he needed to. He doubted it would be much of a problem.

  As Matt bent to tug the sweatpants from her hips, he paused. “Someday I’d like to see you in your boots.” He lifted his gaze. “And nothing else.”

  “Someday,” she agreed, then put a fuzzy stocking–covered foot to the middle of his chest and shoved. “You’re such a guy.”

  “Guilty.” He tossed the sweatpants aside.

  “I’m glad,” she said.

  “That I’m guilty?” He quickly divested her of her socks and panties, as well.

  “That you’re a guy.” She dropped her now-bare foot to the part that made him a guy, and he gulped. “Lose the clothes, Professor.”

  With her leaning back on the bed, completely naked, her hair tumbling over her shoulders and caressing her breasts as he wanted to, he needed no further encouragement. He lost the clothes, set his glasses on the nightstand, then covered her body with his.

  He spent a good long while just kissing her, enjoying the slide of skin along skin, thigh to thigh, chest to breast—even her feet felt good against his.

  He could have gone on kissing her, learning the contours of her mouth with his tongue, for hours, except she began to squirm and the friction, the pressure, made him hiss in a
breath and set his forehead to hers.

  “Teo.” She licked his collarbone, and he gritted his teeth. Was she trying to kill him?

  “You smell like oranges, but you taste like…” She paused, and then she licked him again.

  He was done for. He couldn’t wait. He forgot all about gentle. Instead, he lifted his hips and he plunged.

  Her breath caught; he was terrified he’d hurt her. He began to withdraw, but her nails dug into his shoulders even as her heels dug into his thighs.

  He opened his eyes. Hers were right there—dark and fierce, stark with need.

  “Don’t. You. Dare,” she said between her teeth.

  He managed not to orgasm—barely. She was both gloriously tight and unbelievably wet. He slid in with ease, but when he slid out she clenched around him, causing him to mutter expletives in three different languages. Her lips curved as if he’d whispered endearments.

  He needed to concentrate if he wanted to keep from exploding, so he began to close his eyes. If he looked at her dark hair spread across the creamy sheets, her lips swollen from his, her eyes begging him to do her, do her hard, there was no way he’d last another minute.

  Then she murmured, “No, Teo, don’t,” and he froze, uncertain.

  “Don’t close your eyes. Look at me. See me.”

  “Gina,” he whispered. “All I ever see is you.”

  * * *

  All I ever see is you.

  The words hung between them, beautiful and infinitely sweet. Gina’s throat closed; she wasn’t sure she could speak.

  She was poised on the rim of orgasm, and if the quiver in his arms, his belly, the part of him buried deep within, was any indication, so was he.

  She rocked her hips, hoping to send them over the edge, and while the slow slip and slide was magnificent, they both seemed to be waiting for something more.

  Gina touched his face. She reached up to kiss him, and the words tumbled out: “I love you.”

  He didn’t answer, merely tilted his head and waited for her to come to terms with it—either take the statement back as a mistake, uttered in the heat of the strongest passion she’d ever known, or admit it was a truth she’d kept locked in her heart.

  “I do love you,” she repeated with some amazement. “I wasn’t sure.”

  “I was.” He thrust once. She couldn’t breathe. “I am.” A second time. His gaze bored into hers. “I always…” Three. “Always.” Four. “Will be.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Always.”

  Those declarations were what had been missing. The next instant they were coming together, falling apart, holding on as the storm washed over them and then away.

  His head fell forward until it rested against hers, his hair shrouding them both from the dying rays of the moon. She ran her hand over his back, let her palm rest at the base of his spine, enjoying the sensation of his still being inside of her.

  “Don’t move,” she whispered.

  “I can’t,” he returned, and their laughter mingled along with their breath.

  They had one more instant of peace, and then, somewhere in the house, someone screamed.

  CHAPTER 21

  Gina was never certain if she threw Teo off the bed or he rolled over so fast he fell. Either way, he landed on his ass on the floor.

  The screams continued. The two of them dived for their clothes, shoving their bare feet through the legs of their sweatpants in such a hurry they didn’t realize—

  “Shit.” Gina dropped the much too large garment to the ground, even as Teo cursed when her much too small pair got stuck at his knees. They tossed each other their respective pants as earsplitting shrieks threatened to puncture their eardrums.

  Shoving her head and arms through her T-shirt, Gina followed him to the door, then rammed into his back when he tried to open it, forgot it was locked, and got nowhere.

  As they ran down the stairs in the wake of everyone else, the screams suddenly stopped. Gina’s ears continued to ring.

  The guests all crowded into the kitchen, staring at a hysterical Amberleigh being soothed by Fanny as Isaac stood in the open doorway with his gun.

  Gina pushed her way through the crowd. “What happened?”

  Amberleigh took several gulping gasps, opened her mouth, and began to sob at nearly the same volume she’d shrieked.

  “Sheesh,” Derek muttered. “She’s loud.”

  Melda scurried forward and folded the girl into her arms, urging her out of the room, away from the door that Amberleigh kept staring at as if it might sprout teeth and bite her, then into the dining room.

  At least the old woman seemed more herself today. For that matter, so did Amberleigh. Loud really was her thing.

  “Should that door be open?” Gina asked.

  Isaac scowled and slammed it shut. “Sun’s up. Wolves are gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “Back to being people. Shifted right there in the yard.” He lowered his voice. “Mel’s naked behind is somethin’ I never wanna see again.” Isaac fixed the group with a glare. “Just ’cause they look human now don’t mean they are. Their selves died when they did. They’ll do everything they can to lure us out, keep us there until they can make us like them. It’s what they do.”

  “What set Amberleigh off?” Teo stepped into the room. His shirt was caught up on one side, revealing a slice of rippling abs. Gina swallowed the urge to lick him like an ice-cream cone. She settled for tugging down his shirt, then taking his hand.

  When she glanced again at Isaac, his gaze was on those hands; then it went to Teo’s chest and finally to her face. Though his dark eyes held no recrimination, she could tell that he knew where she’d been and whom she’d been doing.

  Her fingers released Teo’s, but he would not let hers go, and the next instant she was glad. Pretending they weren’t together wouldn’t work. Because they were and they were going to stay that way. Everyone needed to get used to it.

  Isaac lowered his eyes. “She said Ashleigh wanted to see her.”

  “Ashleigh’s a werewolf,” Gina pointed out. “How would Amberleigh know what she wanted?”

  “According to—” Isaac jerked his thumb toward the dining room, where Melda had gotten Amberleigh calmed down enough to emit only great, gulping, nearly silent sobs. Go, Melda! “She heard her name on the wind.”

  Gina stilled. Uh-oh.

  Teo’s fingers tightened on hers. Had she started? She wouldn’t be surprised. “And then?” she urged.

  “She snuck past Fanny, followed the sound downstairs, and found a wolf in the kitchen.”

  Now Gina started so violently she nearly yanked her hand from Teo’s without even trying to. “Inside?”

  “So she says.”

  “She’s been sucking her thumb for two days,” Tim pointed out. “Should we really believe anything she tells us?”

  “I saw it!” Amberleigh shrieked, getting to her feet, ignoring Melda’s attempts to stop her. “It was right there.” She pointed a badly trembling finger at the floor next to Isaac. “The eyes,” she moaned. “They were horrible.” Then, strangely: “My ankle hurts.”

  “Let’s go upstairs and…” Melda’s voice trailed off. That seemed to happen a lot now that Mel was no longer around to finish her sentences. But Amberleigh allowed Melda to lead her away.

  “She is one weird dude,” Derek murmured.

  “Not a dude,” his father said. “But definitely weird.”

  “If one of them got inside, why would it leave?” Teo asked.

  “If one of them got inside, how could it leave?” Gina countered. “Was the door open when you got here, Isaac?” He shook his head. “How would a wolf get out, or in?” She wiggled her free hand. “No thumbs.”

  “What if crazy chick let it in?” Derek asked. “What if it’s still in?”

  “If a werewolf got inside,” Isaac said, “there would be more blood. If…” he lifted his brows, “crazy chick had opened the door, they’d all be in, not just one.
”

  “None of them came in.” Fanny, who had been sitting quietly at the kitchen table, now stood and moved to the window. She lifted a tiny sprig of dried purple flowers from the sill. “Wolfsbane,” she said simply, then returned the plant to its place.

  Gina glanced around, but no one, not even Isaac, seemed to know what in hell Fanny was talking about.

  “What does that do?” Gina asked.

  “Keeps them out.” Fanny sat again at the table. “I placed a piece at every window and door. You don’t think they sat out there all night because of one gun, do you?”

  From Isaac’s scowl, he had. “Where’d you learn that?”

  “Mother.”

  “When did you—?”

  “Nineteen-sixty-five.” Isaac’s scowl deepened, and Fanny shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

  “Why?” Isaac asked. “The Tangwaci Cin-au’-ao was confined. He was never supposed to get out.”

  “They’re never supposed to get out,” Fanny said. “You told the tale of the Tangwaci Cin-au’-ao at every campfire since I was old enough to understand words. It scared me. Once I put wolfsbane everywhere, I could sleep at night.”

  “So Amberleigh’s crazy,” Derek murmured. “Seeing things? Hearing them, too?”

  “Not necessarily,” Isaac said. “The Tangwaci Cin-au’-ao has been calling people to him since he was buried. Maybe he called Amberleigh.”

  “Probably he called Amberleigh,” Gina said, and shrugged. “He called me.”

  Isaac’s gaze narrowed. “When?”

  “Since I fell in the cavern the first time.”

  “And you didn’t mention this before now?” Isaac asked.

  “Would you have believed me before now?”

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “Well, I didn’t know that. I just thought I was imagining that the howls of the unwolves sounded like my name.”

  Or that I was nuts.

  “I always wondered why you insisted on going out there even though I’d forbidden it. I guess if he was calling you—”

  Gina shook her head. “I didn’t hear it until we were rescued.” Isaac frowned. “Or maybe I heard it down there first.”

  Which was why she’d always thought the voice part of her neurosis. After what had happened beneath the earth, why wouldn’t she have issues? Didn’t it make more sense that what she’d heard on the wind was nothing more than a guilt-induced echo of the last words she’d ever heard in her parents’ voices, rather than the call of an invisible Aztec werewolf sorcerer that she hadn’t even known about?