Beneath a Darkening Moon (9 page)

“And the murders here?”

“The MOs seem to indicate that someone didn’t take too kindly to Cade’s part in bringing Rosehall down.”

“And what of your part in it?”

“I didn’t
have
a part in it, but someone obviously thinks I did.”

He studied her for a minute, his expression caring and his gray eyes concerned. “And Cade? What does his presence here mean?”

She knew he meant on a personal level rather than a professional one, so she sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly. “We made a promise to the moon at Rosehall. Apparently, because we never actually fulfilled that promise, the power of it still holds.” Her gaze caught his over the rim of her cup. “For the next five nights.”

He gave her a sweet half-smile. “I figured something was going on between you two.” He reached across the table and lightly pressed his fingertips against her hand. A brief but tender touch—all they dared here in public. “He hurt you once. Don’t let him do it again.”

She smiled, wishing she could lean across the table and kiss him. Wishing she was free to love him as he deserved to be loved.

Then he leaned back in the chair, creating space between them once again for the sake of those who were undoubtedly watching. “If this madman is planning to come after you, you may need protection.”

“What I need is to catch this person before he can kill again.”

He nodded. “Still, I’ll start looking at security precautions for your apartment, just in case.”

“Fine.” He’d do it anyway, even if she told him not to.

He rose. “You know my number if you need me.”

She nodded, watching him walk out the door. Why couldn’t fate allow her to fall for someone like Ronan? Someone who had more caring and tenderness in his little finger than Cade had in his entire
body? It wasn’t fair. But then, who said life had to be fair?

She glanced at her watch and grimaced. Time to go meet the man she couldn’t quite hate, as much as she might want to.

T
HERE WERE TWO
bars in Ripple Creek, and Cade was surprised to discover that neither was buzzing with news of the murders. Somehow, the rangers had kept a lid on it, even though towns like this usually thrived on gossip.

He finished his beer, taking his time as his gaze scanned the semi-crowded room, his foot tapping to the thumping beat of music. Everyone here in the Blue Nights seemed to be after nothing more than a good time, either chatting in large groups or squeezing onto the already crowded dance floor. Besides himself, there didn’t appear to be any loners, or even anyone his cop senses would have labeled as suspicious. But then, in all his years as an IIS officer, he’d never had a suspect who actually looked suspicious. They’d always been average Joes, or family men. Someone who didn’t beg more than a cursory glance.

Someone like Jontee.

Whether the same pattern would apply here in Ripple Creek was anyone’s guess, but he suspected the murderer would be as hard to catch as any other. But, in some ways, he couldn’t be sorry about that. Sure, he wanted this case solved before anyone else got killed, but he was more than willing to draw out his time with Vannah. They’d always been sexually
compatible—and he had the five nights of the moon promise she still owed him.

He placed his empty glass on the table and rose, nodding good night to the bartender as he strolled outside.

Under the cold light of the barely visible moon, the heat in his veins seemed to sharpen until his whole body ached with the fierceness of desire. He glanced at his watch and cursed softly when he saw it was only eleven. He was tempted to call her and demand that they move up their meeting. He
could
do it. The moon gave the male that power.

But he’d made her a promise not to use the moon magic again—and until it suited him to do otherwise, he intended to keep that promise.

He turned right, heading for Meadows Road, even though he still had an hour to kill. If she was feeling the moon anywhere near as strongly as he, she’d be there already, waiting. And arriving early would give him more time to enjoy her luscious body.

He shoved his hands into his pockets as he strolled down Main Street. Ripple Creek, unlike many of the reservations, hadn’t moved with the times, and still retained much of its old-fashioned architecture. And, if what he’d heard about the council was true, they’d also kept many of the old-school ideals when it came to sex. Which was odd, considering a Sinclair pack lived on the reservation—and the Sinclairs had a wild, hedonistic reputation that he knew was thoroughly deserved.

Which, in turn, probably explained Levon Grant’s popularity. Licentious behavior often existed hand in hand with old-fashioned conservatism.

It was hard to imagine Vannah being Grant’s daughter, though—especially since she’d been one of Jontee McGuire’s mistresses. In fact, her main duty at the commune had been to welcome newcomers and introduce them to the sexual ways of Rosehall. There’d been over one hundred people at that commune, and even though she’d apparently arrived there almost a year after the commune had been set up, that was still a lot of welcomes. Still a lot of men.

He supposed that, by Sinclair standards, it was pretty tame. He’d put a stop to it pretty quickly once they were an item, but he’d never been able to stop her from going to Jontee. And despite the fact that her relationship with Jontee was the only reason he’d been there—to read her thoughts and, through her, Jontee’s—sharing her had always eaten at him.

But there was no sharing this time. She was his—only his—and would remain so as long as he was in Ripple Creek. As he turned onto Meadows Road and made his way up the steep incline, it began to snow, and there was something almost magical about the soft flakes falling in the deep silence of the night. He walked past a music auditorium that looked more like a series of conjoined tents, and then he passed several large concrete structures that claimed to be the Ripple Creek School of Music. Then the trees began to crowd closer as the buildings and houses gave way to parkland. The road narrowed. And, without streetlights, the shadows grew thick. With his breath steaming in the night air, and the soft gurgle of water coming from his left, it was easy to imagine he was in an untouched wilderness rather than the outskirts of a thriving town. He passed several small roadside
mailboxes that gave lie to that impression, and finally came to one that said White Peaks.

He stopped, looking up the steep driveway. No lights beckoned ahead, and there was no hint of exotic fruit or flowers warming the air. She hadn’t passed this way yet. Annoyance, tinged with a disappointment, swept through him. Still, there was no point going back to town. She’d be here soon enough.

He walked up the sharp incline. By the time he’d reached the top, his legs ached. He stopped, sucking in air as he scanned the run-down building. He’d been expecting a small house, but this was, in fact, an old ski lodge, probably capable of holding up to thirty couples. It was shaped like a flat-bottomed V, with the flat, front section the main office and the sides the accommodations. There was nothing pretty about it. Half the windows were smashed, the roof in the right wing had partially collapsed, and one side of the steps leading up to the main doors had fallen away.

Then he caught soft flickers of orange light reflecting through the cracked front windows, and anticipation surged. Because those flickers were flames. From a fireplace.

She
was
here.

He strode toward the main door, avoiding the snow-covered steps and leaping directly onto the covered patio. His footsteps echoed across the stillness and, as he opened the door, a bell chimed softly.

The front room was small, holding a reception desk on the right side and a curved staircase that led up to the first floor landing on the other. Straight ahead, through an open set of doors, was a huge communal room filled with sheet-covered sofas and chairs. At
the end of the room was the fire he’d seen. And the fireplace was huge, dominating half the back wall.

The scent of dust and age teased his nostrils, but underneath it was the erotic aroma of woman.
His
woman.

She wasn’t in the immediate area, though. Her scent would have been far stronger if she were.

“Vannah?” His voice seemed to hang in the quiet, a note of fierce longing and desire.

“If you want me, you have to find me.” Her voice had a tinny quality, yet it still contained a heated promise that sent his pulse racing. He looked over his shoulder and saw the small two-way radio sitting on the window frame.

He picked the unit up and pressed the button. “And what do I get when I do?”

“As long as you’re naked, whatever you want.”

His pulse surged. He wanted her now, not in ten minutes. Not in two minutes.
Now
.

“Why the games, Vannah?”

“Why not? Don’t expect things to go easy, Cade, just because I once was.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that, simply because it was the truth. “When I find you, I intend to take you.” A floorboard squeaked and he glanced at the first-floor landing. She was moving. “Be ready for me.”

“The moon makes me ready.” Her voice was little more than a low, taunting murmur. “And if you don’t hurry, I’ll tend to my own needs.” She paused, then added, “Or find someone else to ease the ache.”

“You promised—”

“And we both know how much esteem you place on promises, so you might want to hurry.”

Anger swept through him—the rage of a wolf whose turf is being threatened. “You are mine, Vannah. And I’m coming to claim what I own.”

“You don’t own me. You never have.”

You never will
. The unsaid words seemed to form in the shadows, as powerful as the attraction that had always existed between them. But she was wrong. He
did
own her—at least for the next five nights. He kicked off his boots and socks, then padded barefoot up the stairs. At the top he stopped, tasting the air, searching for the rich headiness of her scent. He’d expected her to be on the left, simply because that way was safer. But as ever, she did the unexpected. Her scent was coming from the right.

He followed the darkened hallway, passing closed doorways without bothering to stop and check them. She wasn’t there. He’d feel her, smell her, if she was. The air got colder, the smell of dust and age gradually replaced by the crispness of the night. Ragged glimpses of sky appeared above him and he slowed, knowing he was coming to the most unstable section. In the middle of the hall, highlighted by starlight, was a pale mauve bra.

Lust surged through him—an ache so fierce he thought he was going to explode. God, anyone would think he’d been celibate for the last ten years. But in some ways, he supposed he had been. Certainly, sex had never achieved the same intensity since Vannah left.

He bent, grasping the bra and raising it to his nose. The silky material was still warm from the heat of
her body, and rich with the luscious scent of her. He breathed in deeply, filling his lungs with her fragrance. It affected him in ways he couldn’t even begin to describe, and it wasn’t just her scent. It was her.

He shoved the wisp of material in his pocket and pushed open the nearby door. It was a stairwell, leading down. He followed it and opened the door at the bottom.

“You’re not naked, wolf,” she said through the two-way. “I’m guessing you’re not as eager as you claim.”

“You can see me?”

“Obviously.”

“Then judge the state of my desire for yourself.”

His clothes hit the stained carpet in rapid succession. His erection slapped his belly, pulsing with heat and desire.

He glanced at the ceiling, but he couldn’t see any mirrors or cameras. She had to be close.

“I think,” she said, her voice a low purr touched with amusement, “that you’d better hurry. You look ready to explode.”

He glanced right, seeing nothing but shadowed furniture, and went left instead. Air stirred past his nostrils, tickling his senses with lush femininity. He grinned in anticipation. She was close. Very close.

The hall was dark, but many of the rooms were open, allowing a whisper of moonlight to filter in. The ceiling was lined with cracks, probably caused by the roof’s collapse onto the floor above, but he had no doubt it was safe, if only because she was here, too.

His gaze fell on another wisp of material sitting in the doorway ahead, and the heat in his loins became
a fiery ache. He picked up the panties and raised them to his nose, drawing in the rich scent of her desire.

It only increased his own, and he hadn’t thought that was possible.

The room beyond was empty, holding only dust and cobwebs. But there was an interconnecting door midway down the left wall, and it was open. The darkness beyond was lit by a soft golden light that flickered and gleamed like a jarful of fireflies.

He strode forward. The room he entered was small, and heated by a fire burning in the hearth at the far end. There was no furniture other than a large sofa, and Vannah leaned against its back. She was motionless, her arms crossed over her breasts, her honey-colored skin caressed by the flames until she seemed like a glorious golden statue. He forced himself to stop and drink in the sight of her, even though every inch of him quivered with the need to lose himself in all that rich, golden warmth.

She was much more lovely than he remembered.

“So,” she said, a mocking glint in her green eyes, “you’ve found your prize. Do you intend to claim it, or are you just going to stand there?”

A low rumble of annoyance rose up his throat. In response, a cool smile touched her lips, and she turned her back. Another deliberate taunt that only fueled the fire.

While some part of him recognized and acknowledged what she was doing, he was more than willing to play along. After all, he was here for the sex—and that’s exactly what she was offering. Nothing more, and nothing less.

He slid his arms around her waist, pulling her warm,
naked flesh back against him. Her butt rested against his erection, teasing him. He pressed forward a little, so that her cheeks wrapped around him, encasing him in warmth, tormenting him with possibilities he felt no temptation to explore. Not when heaven itself lay so close.