Darinda shut the album and piled it and the other two on her nightstand, carefully reaching over Roderick. “Time for all tired little detectives to hit the sack,” she murmured. Roderick twitched an ear but didn’t wake.
On impulse, she let her hand rest lightly on his head. His body moved slightly, pressing closer to hers, intent on protecting her even in sleep.
She withdrew her hand. You never tame the wolf, or the witch. No sensible person would want to. No sane person would try. She rolled over, burrowed under the covers, and waited for sleep to claim her.
Chapter 14
Darinda eased out of a deep, thick sleep to the song of a single bird determinedly announcing his lordship over a tree outside her window. The sun on the floor slanted at a late-morning angle. So much for calling Dr. Clark.
She yawned and tried to sit up. Her body encountered resistance. Her mouth stayed open, then shut with a snap, all thoughts of sunlight forgotten.
Where the wolf had gone to sleep the night before a very naked Roderick now lay beside her. He must have shifted form in his sleep. He’d shifted position as well, from a ball to stretched out along her length, one leg atop hers, one heavy arm flung across her torso. Every now and then he breathed a gentle snore. His hands and legs twitched, like a dog’s in sleep, as if he chased prey in his dreams.
Darinda smiled in spite of herself. She couldn’t help it any more than she could stop her hand from reaching out to touch his ebony hair. Its texture was smoother than the wolf’s pelt but just as thick and invited caresses.
Touching him was like eating chocolate. Once she got started, she couldn’t quit. She slid her hand off his hair down to his shoulders, then along the arm that had captured her. When she reached his hand, she lifted it to her lips and whispered kisses on his fingertips, one by one. He murmured in his sleep.
Carefully Darinda eased his arm off her body and worked her leg out from under his. The things that filled her head right now simply couldn’t happen. Not that she couldn’t pretend, if only for a couple of minutes. But fantasy was all it could remain.
She gave his hair a final affectionate pat. Oh, what the hell. Fairy tales as well as chocolate were her biggest weaknesses. She leaned over and brushed a kiss across his lightly-parted lips.
Roderick opened his eyes.
He came awake and alert in a second, like any wild animal. She snatched her hand back, far too late. He bared his teeth in a feral smile. He knew what she’d been up to. “Good morning,” he said. “Feeling much better, I see.”
“It’s late.” She tried to nudge him off the bed. He didn’t budge. He tightened his arm around her waist when she tried to scoot away. “Really. The sun’s up already. What time is it?”
“Long past time.” He covered her torso with his. She could feel the heat and wildness of him even through the blankets. His eyes were predator’s, hot and untamed, with the prey in his sights.
“Don’t,” she warned him, but she didn’t move. Her voice sounded breathless and uncertain. “This isn’t what I want.”
“That’s not what your scent is telling me.”
“My scent is a terrible liar. Let me up.”
Instead he leaned closer, pressed harder. “Stop me,” he challenged. “You’re a witch. You’ve got the power, and I’m unprotected. There’s no way I could force you. Am I right?”
His mouth hovered scarcely a breath above hers. Memory of the kiss at Lupin Hill seared her brain. He had tasted of power and blood and the wild. And she’d had a good long drink of it, enough to desperately want another.
Her hands betrayed her. They moved to his shoulders and skimmed along the hardened muscles of his back instead of shoving him off. He would let her go if she asked him. She felt it through her touch. Her lips parted, but the feeble protest she’d meant to deliver never made it to air.
Roderick grinned. His canines, thicker than a human’s, glinted in the shafts of sunlight. “That’s what I thought,” he said, and kissed her.
Pure wolf. No finesse. He simply dove in for the kill. His mouth on hers was everything she remembered and then some. She moaned against it and sent her tongue on an exploratory expedition. It met his halfway and they traded extensive notes. He tasted like hot blood and hotter flesh and long, panting lopes in the moonlight. It made her want to bury her teeth in something that wasn’t a vegetable. She nibbled at his lower lip and won his rough growl in response.
Done with her mouth, he moved on to her throat. His teeth grazed the tissue-thin skin that shielded the pulsing artery. Darinda tensed for the bite. The tip of his tongue flicked over the spot instead, gentle as a feather’s touch, gentle as her responsive sigh. Encouraged, he swept his tongue over her throat and down to the little hollow of her collarbone and won himself a longer, deeper sigh.
Nor was Darinda passive prey. Her hands mounted a feverish assault along his shoulders and back, as far down as they could reach. All muscle, all of it quivering in delight at her touch. She scratched her nails shallowly up his back, through the stiff, thin pelt that covered it. His answering moan had a growl in it. The moan lowered in pitch when she hauled his mouth back to hers again, vibrating against her lips.
He’d reached the extent of the flesh exposed to him. He slid the blanket lower, and parted her robe until her breasts were bare. “Last chance,” he offered. “You want to stop me, now would be the time.”
Her fingers fisted in his hair. “You’re still an asshole,” she murmured.
“Granted.” He lowered his tongue to her throat, then down to her breast to lap her left nipple.
Darinda gasped. His tongue was rougher than a human’s, and far more flexible. Heat exploded in her belly and rushed at once down to the center of her. She abruptly wanted that rough tongue down there, not messing around with her breast, delicious though that felt.
“Don’t,” she managed and lost all words and all resistance in a moan. On the edge of betraying all she believed in, she fell before the power of the wolf.
* * * *
Roderick didn’t even bother to lift his head at her mumbled protest. “Don’t what? Don’t stop? All right.” He transferred his attentions, and his tongue, to her right breast. His hands dragged the blanket down a good six inches. Her scent betrayed her willingness, her surrender to him. The prey was nearly his. His penis swelled and hardened in response.
Then all at once her odor changed, going uncertain, acidic. Resistant. Her hands went stiff on his shoulders. He lifted his head a fraction. His voice came out more growl than words. “What’s the matter now?”
“I…can’t. This is wrong. I can’t.”
“Of course you can. You already are. This isn’t another witch thing, is it? Because—” He caught himself and snarled. “Lycaon bite it. You’re virgin, aren’t you? And if you sleep with a man you’ll lose your powers.”
“Of course I’m not,” she said irritably. “That’s an old wives’ tale. I want to. I do. I want you, but I can’t. You’re bound to Coraline.”
“Sod her. I’m done with her. I’m done with the whole bitten lot. I won’t marry her. I won’t spend my life bound to that stinking yippy bitch. You’re the one I want. You’re my perfect mate. I knew that the second I scented you.”
He dove for her breast again. This time she pushed his face away. “No. You made an oath. I can’t break an oath or help another break theirs. That is a witch thing.” She moved beneath him, this time in retreat. “I’m sorry. I am. I’m really sorry.”
He planted his hips atop hers and his hands on her shoulders, pinning her to the bed. “Oh no you don’t. You’ve been waving your come-get-me odor in my nose for days. Well, here I am. We’re going to satisfy the hell out of each other, and no stupid monkey oath is going to get in the w—”
Her body stiffened. Her eyes went dark as a summer sky before the lightning hits. He sensed her forces gathering.
“Oh bloody hell,” he said.
She blasted him across the room.
It
could have been worse. He could have gone through the wall, not just into it. She hadn’t slammed him as hard as she could have. She must still harbor some affection for him.
Tell that to his back. He massaged it while he squinted through the bright red and white slashes that streaked his vision. She had gotten out of bed, with the robe fastened as securely as a castle gate. Her face was dead white, her huge eyes blinking rapidly as if against tears. “Get out.”
“Are you daft? You just threw me into a wall. I can barely move.”
She lifted her hand. The air thickened. “Find the strength.”
He clawed a handhold on the dresser and levered himself erect with a lot of groans that weren’t entirely fake. He risked a peek at her. No sympathy in those eyes. The pain, though, startled him. She did harbor affection for him, and he’d gone and thoroughly squelched it. “I didn’t mean to—”
“I know what you meant to do. Get the hell out of my room.”
The alpha wolf raised his territorial head. Who was this uppity she to order him around? “This is my house.”
“And I’m leaving it. I quit. Big Alex’s boys can watch over you. I’ll leave the wards on the rooms. They’ll last at least a week. If you still feel you need a bodyguard, find some other witch’s leg to hump.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You’re only sorry you didn’t get to bury your bone. I should have paid attention when you laid down the ‘no mingling’ rule. You don’t care about me at all. I’m just another monkey to you.”
“No. Not you. You’re—”
“Out of here.”
The air caught him and propelled him through the open doorway and almost into yet another wall. His clothing followed, blown through the door in a tangle. The door slammed shut in his face.
He tried the knob. Locked. “Darinda. Darinda, we’re not through.”
“Oh yes we are.” He could hear her stomping around in there, yanking open dresser drawers and slamming closet doors. “I’m done with you and your meat-eating werewolf arrogance. Go lick somebody else. Go hump your wife. I’m through.”
“‘Meat-eating’?” He sputtered. “Spoken like an herbivore. We used to eat people like you.”
“When you could catch us. When we weren’t cowering up in the trees flinging our poop at you. Isn’t that what you really mean?”
Bugger. What was it about females of every species that made them so bloody irrational? “Darinda, listen. I’m not going to marry Coraline. I broke it off. She’s out of the picture for good. Open this door and face me like a wolf, dammit!”
She opened the door. Fully dressed in her trim jeans and sweater with that ridiculously huge bag on her shoulder and her suitcase in hand. “Nice try. If you’re not getting married, you might as well go home. Which ends the terms of my employment. My work here is done.”
He didn’t budge from the doorway so she budged him, a shove of air that sent him reeling back. He didn’t try to follow her. He stood in the hall and seethed and listened to the deliberate racket she made clattering down the stairs. “Fine, then! Get out! Who needs your pathetic protection? You’re fired!”
“I already quit.”
“Call it whatever you want. I’m finished with you, you—” Insults deserted him. “Grass-eater!”
He went to the head of the stairs. She’d reached the door. She actually meant it. She was leaving. He tried to hurl some witty, scathing epithet at her, but all that came out was a growl, and a thin growl at that. If he weren’t such a powerful, high-ranking male, he’d almost call it a whimper.
At the threshold, she turned. Here it came, her parting shot. She stared up at him. He glared back, gripping the rail until he was certain either it or his hand would break. Whatever vile words she flung at him, he could easily match her, and then some.
“Good-bye,” she said. Pause. “I’m sorry.” Pause. “Put some pants on.”
And she was gone.
Roderick stood there until the sound of her car faded into the distance. Then he howled—long, loud, and searing with frustration and fury. His hand left the rail and hit the floor and blurred into a paw. He plowed downstairs, through the kitchen and out Aunt Letty’s custom-wolf-sized doggy door into the back yard.
Women. Can’t live with them, can’t rend them into little bloody strips. Somewhere in this blighted alien world some innocent rabbit or squirrel was about to pay the ultimate price. Eyes burning, Roderick went hunting.
* * * *
Norman, at least, was glad to see her. The dragon hissed, flicked his indigo tongue over her hands, and eyed her possibly flammable scarf with undisguised longing. Darinda distracted him with a belly rub. The spines that lined his backbone took on a contented emerald tinge. “Did you miss me?” Darinda cooed. “Who’s mommy’s good boy?”
“So the case is closed?” Peri said.
“As far as I’m concerned. We didn’t actually catch anybody, but, well, he’s got Big Alex’s troops watching out for him. I figured it was safe for me to leave.”
“He made a pass at you, didn’t he? A good one, too, I’ll bet, or you wouldn’t be glaring at me like that. Okay, that’s it. Put down the dragon and spill.”
“It wasn’t a pass.” A pass was a casual thing. What happened this morning had been far removed from casual. “You were right about werewolves. They’re selfish and arrogant and insensitive and class- and species-conscious like you wouldn’t believe. I put up with it for as long as I could until finally I just had enough. So I terminated my employment and here I am.” There. Made it through the speech without her voice hitching. She patted Norman’s tummy, well pleased with herself.
“You sure you’re okay? You don’t look so okay.”
“I’m fine. He was a jerk. You had him pegged from the start. The less said about him, the better. Now, how’s it been since I’ve been gone?”
“Vamps, Goths and tourists. Same old same old. Nice try, but you don’t fall off the hook that easy. I’m going over to Tina’s and pick us up some ice cream. Then you’re going to tell me what that son of a bitch did to you to make you look so miserable.”
Darinda sighed. “Mint chocolate chip. And see if you can find me a soft pretzel.”
“Gotcha. Yo, Springsteen! Howzabout some air?”
The cat hopped off the sill and up onto the counter, and from there onto Peri’s shoulder. “Be right back,” she promised. “Try not to hex anybody while I’m gone.”
Goddess, Darinda thought, does it show that bad? She avoided a response by petting Norman until well after Peri had gone. The dragon steamed contentedly.
“Glad you’ve got it all figured out,” she murmured as she returned Norman to his tank. She treated him to some extra charcoal dipped in lighter fluid, just the way he liked it. If only all males could be so easily placated.
Men. Can’t live with ‘em, can’t have ‘em neutered. Life would be so much easier all around if only they weren’t such…males.
“Who am I kidding?” she muttered to Norman. “He’s not even a man. He’s a beast who thinks I’m a monkey. Like wolves are any better. Can you believe the gall of him?”
Norman blinked his bottom lids. “You can say that again,” she said. “He only wanted to jump me because I was there. Because I was convenient. And him with a fiancée. He knows I’m all about oaths and honor and keeping your word and he still figured I’d just ignore all that and do what we both wanted to.”
That’s what brought the tears to her eyes and twisted the blade in her heart. Because he’d figured right. She’d been willing to ignore something vital to her being for a chance to share her heart with a wolf. Because he wasn’t just a shallow mutt out for a quick hump, was he? Wolves might jump anything that stood still long enough, but they didn’t mate lightly. She knew his mind, could sense his intentions. This morning hadn’t been any casual romp, not to him. He’d tried to draw her into his pack, into his life. He’d meant to mate with her. He’d wanted to make her his one and only mate
for the rest of their lives.
Which is why she’d had to make a break for it, before she had to learn what real commitment to an oath might do to her sense of independence.
“Can’t do that.” She puttered around with a display of herbal powders on the counter. If she didn’t keep her hands busy they’d start shaking. “I’m a witch. You know what that means. Witches walk alone.”
Except maybe for Mom. Mom had foreseen married life and walked right into it with arms and heart wide open. With a mortal, yet.
“That’s different,” she asserted to Norman. “Dad’s human. Nothing like a wolf. All bull-headed and snotty and thinks he’s so much better than us lesser beings. Just like a…”
Witch.
“Oh, what do you know?” she flung at the tank. “You just sit in the sun all day. You didn’t have to put up with him. I did the right thing by walking out on him. In fact, I’ll prove it. Watch.”
She darted around the counter and dug out her poker deck. A shuffle brought the cards to life. They practically throbbed with warmth, eager to tell their message. She did another shuffle, cut the deck, and dealt.
Queen of Hearts. So far, so good. She peeked at the second card.
King of Spades.
Okay, misdeal. No biggie. She shuffled again and started over. Queen of Hearts. Darinda inched up a corner of the next card and glimpsed black. Best two out of three. Yet another shuffle and cut, then she slapped down five cards in quick succession without looking. She completed the deal with her eyes averted and set the rest of the deck aside. “All right,” she said to Norman’s tank, and looked.
Queen of Hearts. King of Spades. Three diamonds, then the two of clubs, followed by the two of spades. After that a solid line of black with only the desperately hopeful Ace of Hearts erupting near the end. She noted with a sinking heart that the reading ended black.
Change, for the worse. The King and Queen were still bound together, though not for long if the spades and clubs had any say. Their line had nearly overwhelmed the red. The danger to Roderick had increased drastically. Because she had left him? If she didn’t go back to him and fulfill her oath to him, would he die?
A London Werewolf in America Page 19