Silver Moon (Hot Moon Rising #6)

by Merryn Dexter

  “You make strange noises, sometimes. Growling, snarling. Like a dog.” She fiddled with the comb, twisting and turning it over in her hands. Her jaw-cracking yawn saved him from trying to explain the animalistic responses she brought out in him, and he pushed to his feet.

  “It’s been a rough day; I’ll show you where the bedroom is.”

  He moved around the room, turning on the bedside lamp, sending a soft glow across the white linen. The sheets were fresh enough. He’d only slept in them once, and he always had a shower after his evening round of exercise. He dug out a set of sweat pants from the top drawer of his dresser and glanced toward the doorway. Silver hovered on the threshold, teeth worrying her bottom lip. Ignoring the urge to pull her to him and soothe the tiny injury with his tongue, he frowned at her.

  “Is there a problem?”

  She looked at her feet, the bed, him for a brief second, and then back to the floor. “There’s just the one bed?” Color flooded her pale cheeks.

  He tucked the sweat pants under his arm, grabbed one of the pillows from the bed, and brushed her out of the way as he left the room. “Don’t worry, kitten, your innocence will remain intact. I’m sleeping out here.”

  Tossing the pillow onto the couch, he popped the top button of his fly. He couldn’t wait to get out of his damn jeans. His cock seemed determined to remain at half-mast, and the constricting material had gone beyond uncomfortable. She didn’t move from the spot by the door.

  Staring into her eyes, Kirk unfastened the second button. The rosy heat in her face went from pink to flame red. She lifted her hands to her burning cheeks but made no move to leave.

  He took a step forward, hand on the next button. “Stop looking at me like that. You don’t want this, kitten,” he muttered, trying to convince himself as much as her.

  “Don’t want what?” The telltale wavering in her voice proved his point.

  “A man like me in your bed. Be warned, Silver, there is a fraction of decency left in me, and you are straining it to the limit. I’m giving you a chance because you’ve had a bad time of it. If you don’t get out of my sight in the next three seconds, I’ll have you on your back with my cock so deep in your pussy you won’t be able to walk for a week. Lucky for you, I don’t do virgins.” Empty space greeted his final words.

  Kirk studied the closed bedroom door, wrestling his wolf instincts back under control. The animal wanted out. The wood would prove no barrier. One kick and he could be balls deep in all that honeysuckle goodness. He jammed his hands on his hips and drew in a deep breath, held it for a count of five, and released it on a sigh. Whatever the wolf wanted, the man was right. Silver didn’t want a man like him, more beast than anything else.

  He rapped his knuckles on the door. “There’s a spare toothbrush under the bathroom sink. I’m going for a run, so you’ll have the place to yourself for a while. I won’t go far, and I’ll lock up behind me.”

  Silence greeted him.

  He padded out of the cabin, locking the door as promised. No one would come around, but she didn’t know that. He tucked the key in a notch he’d cut beneath the third step and shucked his jeans. Calling the wolf, he welcomed the rush of strength as fur rippled down his spine. He launched himself forward, landing on four wide paws. Little chunks of gravel rattled beneath him as he bent his head and forced the wolf to run. Given half a chance the damn thing would crash straight back through one of the windows.

  Muzzle to the ground, Kirk completed a full circuit of the land around his home, testing scents, checking markers he’d left remained undisturbed. Satisfied no intruders had dared to encroach on his territory, he ran. One word pounded in his head as his paws struck the ground in a rapid tattoo. Mate. Mate. Mate.

  Chapter Five

  Thick tentacles wrapped around her throat, dragging her deeper into the inky-black water. She thrashed, clawing at the slick flesh, trying to gain purchase on the alien creature. Her nails scratched the warm, hairy surface, desperate to loosen the suffocating mass, fighting to draw oxygen even though she knew the fetid water would fill her lungs. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as the monster turned her, tugged her into its protective embrace.

  Your name is Silver Ellis. You’re a teacher at Johnson Middle School. You’re an only child and you live at 243 Oak Street. Your social security number is….

  Her eyes flew open, a hoarse rattle burning the back of her throat.

  Black. Everything was black.

  She tried to move, couldn’t. The lingering threads of the nightmare sucked her back under. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think as the monster squeezed her tighter in the depths of hell.

  “Silver? Come on, kitten, wake up for me. Jesus Christ, wake the fuck up.”

  The blackness resolved into two dark circles framed by thick lashes. Heat surrounded her, and a warm, golden glow filled the room. Kirk, the cabin. Reality chased the last vestiges of the nightmare away, and she could breathe again.

  “I’m okay.” The wobble in her voice said otherwise. She took another, steadier breath and tried again. “I’m okay, thank you.”

  The deep furrow between his dark brows eased a fraction, and the solid weight of his body shifted to the side. A heavy leg still trapped hers beneath it, and her shoulder remained burrowed into his side. She should be scared being close to someone so dangerous, not feel such relief at his looming presence. Tension melted from her bones, and she relaxed her fingers that clung to his forearm in a death grip. His soft grunt drew her eyes, and she gasped in horror at the bloody scratches marring his tanned skin.

  “It’s nothing,” he snapped when she tried to protest.

  “But—”

  “Nothing.”

  With a nod, she swallowed the apology on her lips. If he wanted to play the tough guy, she didn’t have the energy to argue with him about it. Trying to lift her head, she stopped, wincing at the sharp pain in her scalp. The thick plait of her hair, woven before she went to sleep, lay trapped beneath the arm he’d wrapped around her shoulders. A noise rumbled in his chest, vibrating down her side. She froze.

  The look of worry on his face morphed to something else, and a predator studied her from behind those deep-mahogany eyes. Her heart fluttered, not entirely in fright.

  “I can’t move,” she murmured.

  He held her gaze, unblinking. A stain of embarrassment flushed her throat and cheeks. She’d always been quick to blush, but her reactions to this man were ridiculous. His thick lashes shuttered down, back up, and the hungry look was gone. The solid reassurance of his body lifted away, and she followed his progress from the room with her eyes.

  A thick, white towel covered his hips, doing nothing to disguise the evidence of his erection. Everything about him was big. Everything. She swallowed hard, tugging the covers up to her nose, hiding the fresh bloom of color heating her face. He didn’t stop, didn’t look back at the bed, swinging the door shut behind him.

  She strained her ears, heard the springs of the couch squeak in protest as he settled himself on it. Gripping the edge of the sheet, she waited. And waited. Sleep tugged at the corner of her awareness, but she brushed it away.

  A deep rumble rose and fell, rose and fell. Kirk’s snores soothed and disappointed her at the same time. Turning her face into the pillow, imagining it still held a trace of his warmth, she let her eyes drift close.

  They danced around each other for the next couple of days, an unspoken, coordinated effort to avoid anything approximating intimate contact. Kirk refused her offers of help, telling her off the moment she stirred from the big armchair. He bitched about her presence, bemoaning her invasion of his space, her disruption of his routine. He’d storm out, saying he needed a bit of peace and quiet, returning a few minutes later claiming to have forgotten some urgent task.

  She kept her nose buried in one book or another. The choice of reading material was limited—technical plumbing guides, and what appeared to be every piece of literature ever issued by the Florida Stat
e Parks Department. She didn’t know what he did for a living; he would only say that he worked for Derek. The relationship between the two men seemed more than employer-employee, but he hadn’t responded to her attempts at digging.

  Whatever his job entailed, he needed to be fit for it. Her favorite two hours of the day were his workout sessions. Watching the sweat roll across his thickly muscled body sent her heart racing and her thoughts spiraling. The steamy scenes in the romance novels she devoured in the quiet confines of her apartment had been abstract. The images they drew were unlike anything in her limited experience. Seeing Kirk strain his body to the limits provided flesh to those remembered stories. Hot, sculpted flesh she longed to trace with the tip of her tongue.

  The tension between them reached the boiling point, and Silver feared her face would be permanently red from the dreams that replaced her nightmares. Dreams of his weight pressing her deep into the mattress, strong legs spreading hers wide. That huge cock of his surging between her thighs. If she didn’t get some relief soon, she would scream.

  Or spontaneously combust.

  Needing to escape the suffocating atmosphere in the cabin, she glanced up from the plumbing manual sprawled across her lap. He moved around the kitchen in that silent way of his—always surprising in a man of his stature. Her offer to tidy up after breakfast had been met with an order to “park your fucking ass.” Closing the heavy book with a thud, she gathered her nerve.

  “I’m ready to talk to Jesse.”

  His head snapped around, and she wrestled against the urge to squirm beneath his scowl.

  “You need to rest.”

  “I’m fine. Bored, but otherwise fine. I need to speak to him while the information is still fresh.” She glanced at her lap then back up. “A boy died, Kirk. I can’t let that go just because I’m scared.”

  A mutinous look crossed his face, but he didn’t refute her words.

  Time stretched between them.

  “Fine.” With a shake of his head, Kirk turned back to his task, slamming a few cupboard doors in the process.

  That went better than I expected.

  She waited a couple more minutes then raised her other issue. “I’ll need something to wear. I can’t go to the meeting in your underwear.”

  Something snapped, and he turned back to her with a handle from one of the cupboards clenched in his fist. Oops.

  She’d learned over the previous forty-eight hours that his bark was much worse than his bite. He yelled. A lot. Stomped around, bossed her about, and generally annoyed the hell out of her, but there was no malice in it. His dire warnings about being a bad person, mutterings of evil deeds he’d committed, no longer scared her. When he threatened to turn her over his knee and spank her, she’d experienced such a rush of desire it left her light-headed.

  He tossed the handle into the sink and stormed into the bedroom, returning in a clean pair of jeans and a white T-shirt. He paused beside her chair.

  “Do you have a suitcase at home?”

  “Yes. There’s one on top of the wardrobe.” She pictured him moving around her private spaces. “I can come with you. It’ll be quicker, besides I know where everything is.”

  He cut her off with a raised hand. “You stay here. Take a nap. I want you rested before you make your statement tonight.”

  Orders issued, he snatched up his keys and left, securing the door behind him. The truck roared to life, wheels crunching on the driveway. Quiet descended. She waited five minutes to be sure he wouldn’t return then set to work.

  Take a nap, my ass.

  Two enforced days of sitting around had given her more than enough time to study the cabin. He kept it neat, but there was an air of neglect about the place. It performed a function, providing shelter from the elements, but there was nothing about it that said home.

  Folding the waistband of her borrowed boxer shorts over to prevent them from falling down, Silver ran through the mental list of chores she’d made earlier. She hit the kitchen first, checking cupboards and drawers, locating cleaning products, which she set out on the table. Rolling up her metaphorical sleeves, she got to work.

  ***

  Going to Silver’s apartment had been a monumental mistake. He knew it the second he closed the door behind him and her honeysuckle scent surrounded him. It filled the entire space, teasing his senses, layering his skin until he felt like she was wrapped around him.

  The main living space had a cozy feel about it. Mismatched antiques rubbed shoulders with overstuffed furniture covered in cushions. The warmth of her personality echoed from every surface, photographs, knickknacks—a peaceful life full of smiles.

  Books littered the place, spilled out from bookcases lining one wall. A large television squatted on an old chest in the corner. The floral-patterned sofa was angled to face the set and he settled into it, knowing at once that this was Silver’s spot. Her pretty natural fragrance lingered in the crocheted blanket folded over the back of the three-seater. An open paperback lay facedown on the side table. A basket of wool, needles, and a pattern book rested beside his foot.

  He could picture her there, feet tucked underneath her, blanket over her lap as she watched a film, or read. He smiled at the cover of the book. How to Tame a Rake sounded more interesting than one of his plumbing manuals. His fingers traced the soft material and he tugged it down, folding the blanket into a neat square. It got chilly some nights in the cabin and although it didn’t bother him, thanks to his wolf metabolism, she would be more susceptible. He set the folded blanket to one side and placed the book on top of it, using a scrap of paper to mark the page. A few other books were stacked on the table, so he added them as well.

  Forcing himself to move from the comfortable sofa, he explored the rest of the small apartment. The array of bottles in the bathroom confused the hell out of him. Why did women need so much crap? He grabbed a toiletry bag he found beneath the sink and swept an armful of products into it, not bothering to check the labels. Dropping the bag on the pile forming on the sofa, he headed for the bedroom.

  A bedspread scattered with bright red poppies covered the queen-sized bed. Another mountain of cushions rested against the pillows, and he made a mental note to add some to the items he’d gathered on the sofa. Silver would feel more relaxed if she had a few familiar possessions around the cabin.

  Refusing to examine his motives for wanting her to be comfortable in his home, he yanked open the wardrobe and shook his head. Rows of skirts, blouses, sweaters, and long-sleeved dresses greeted him. No T-shirts, no jeans, nothing practical for living in the middle of the woods. He lowered his gaze to the neat pairs of sensible shoes. No running shoes, either. He tugged a few random items out and tossed them on the bed.

  Her suitcase sat on the top of the wardrobe where she’d said. He threw the clothes, books, blanket, and cushions inside. He started to close the case, remembered her request for underwear, and pulled open the drawer of her bedside cabinet. His mouth dried at the sight of lace-edged scraps of silk in delicate pastel hues.

  With trembling hands, he lifted up a pair of sky-blue silk panties. They were some type of shorts, and his cock filled to bursting at the thought of them cupping the rounded curves of Silver’s ass. A matching bra lay folded neatly beneath. Scooping up two handfuls of sheer delight, he shoved them into the case and closed the lid.

  Carrying out one last sweep of the place, he noticed the corner of a wooden box peeking out from beneath the bed. He crouched down, pulled it out, and flipped the lid. Photographs, cards, letters. He nudged through the contents, a strange burning sensation in his chest. He closed the box with a snap and tucked it under his arm.

  Stowing the suitcase and box in the passenger side of the truck, Kirk checked the street for signs of anything suspicious. Satisfied his visit had not been noted by anyone, he pulled away from the curb, heading for the Walmart Supercenter off I-75.

  The wolf snarled in his head at being surrounded by so many humans, and he was inclined to agree
. Harsh smells assaulting his sensitive nose, he stood just inside the entrance, studying the large hanging signs until he located the department he wanted. Shouldering through a pair of gossiping mothers, he cut down one aisle, angling left until he hit the womenswear section.

  He’d checked the sizes in Silver’s clothes before packing them, but the sight before him proved he’d underestimated his task. Racks of jeans, pants, tops, and sweaters greeted him. Where the fuck I am supposed to start?

  Knowing he was out of his depth, he pulled out his phone and thumbed the single contact in his address book. It rang twice.

  “Everything, okay?” his alpha asked.

  “Fine. Silver wants to give her statement tonight.”

  “I’ll set it up. Jesse and Charlie will be relieved.” Derek paused. “Was there something else?”

  “I need to talk to your mate,” Kirk muttered.

  “Riesa? What the hell do you need to speak to her for? I can hear people, Kirk, where are you?”

  “Please, Derek.” A hint of desperation entered his voice. He’d never begged for anything in his life. This was what bloody women did to a man. The other end of the phone went muffled for a moment then a soft voice spoke.

  “Hi, Kirk. How can I help you?” The alpha’s mate was a quiet woman, intuitive and insightful. She also carried a psychic gift that had helped to save the life of Rand’s mate, Hannah, from a deranged scientist.

  “I, umm, I need to pick up some jeans and stuff for Silver, but there are too many damn options. Who knew denim came in so many different shades? What’s wrong with blue and black? What the fuck is the difference between boot-cut and low-rise?” He kept his voice low, shielding the mouthpiece with his hand as he whispered into it.

  Her tinkle of laughter was swiftly covered by a cough. “Well, it depends on her body shape and size. Is she tall or short? Slim or curvy?”

  He pictured the swell of Silver’s hips, the plump cheeks of her ass just begging for him to sink his teeth into them and mark her.