Charlotte Boyett-Compo- Wyndsheer (15 page)

She heard him suck in a breath and knew he must have stepped on a sharp stone but she clamped her lips shut, knowing he wouldn’t listen about going back for their clothing. Instead, she kept her head on his shoulder, her arms around his neck and just inhaled the manly scent of his tawny flesh, delighting in the sensations it plied through the lower part of her body.

“Don’t you need the flashlight?” she asked.

“No,” he said and explained to her how the growing moon-enhanced abilities of his lupine nature sharpened his night vision. “I can see the slightest bit of heat given off by the smallest stand of lichen or a tiny insect crawling along the rock wall. I might as well be wearing night vision goggles.”

His step was sure through the cave system, for he could have made the trek blindfolded if need be, since he’d traveled the passageway countless times. He knew where to plant his foot, what portion of the corridor to avoid, what section necessitated a surer traverse. Though it took him a bit longer to make the hike, they arrived back at the cabin without a single mishap. He had to allow her to slide from his hold as he operated the stone slab to enter his lair, but as soon as he had the portal and the cabin door open, he swept her up and carried her to the bed they shared, laying her down and crawling atop her like a man long denied what sustained him.

“I have to … I ....” His mouth came down on hers as he wrapped his body around hers, his legs entwining with hers, rolling to his back so she was above him but never breaking the contact of their lips.

She thrust her tongue deep into his mouth and ground her shapely rump on his groin. Her hands dug into his shoulders as she slid her hot sex down onto his cock with enough force to make him grunt. Swiveling her hips upon him, she rode him hard, releasing his mouth to sit up and let her long hair fall back over her shoulders as she closed her eyes and pressed deeper on his shaft while the ripples of her climax began tightening around him.

“By the gods,” she heard him moan, his hands clamped around her hips as she pushed her lower body against him, grinding upon him as she came.

His own explosion was so shattering that he thought the top of his head would come off when he shot long and hard into her velvety warmth a few heartbeats later, the spasm rocking him with its white-hot intensity. He grasped her hips and stilled her last tired movements on him while he pumped upward urgently--their flesh slapping together--riding out the storm of passion that had him in its thrall. For a split second darkness enveloped him and he saw stars shooting across his vision then he collapsed with a loud groan and squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

She stretched her body over his and swiveled her head so her lips were pressed to his throbbing jugular.

“Jeez, Wolfman,” she told him, “I think you liked that.”

“I … think so,” he gasped. His body was slick with sweat as he reached up a trembling hand to spike it through his wet hair, pushing the tendrils out of his eyes. “I also think you killed me, lass.”

She smiled and ran her tongue over the pulse of his vein, delighting in the way he shuddered at her touch. Curling her fingers through his chest hair, she drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly, sleepy from their tryst. When she felt his hand gently stroking her back, she purred and heard his low laugh.

When morning came, she found herself alone. Jamie was gone, the cabin door closed, the stone portal once more a solid sheet of rock--the perimeters of which she could not detect with hand or eye. Though she had awakened late, she had not expected her lover to be gone, but something he’d said before sleep had claimed them came back to her ....

“I need to make sure the Guardian is near you while I am in Conversion.”

“Guardian?” she’d questioned, but he had fallen asleep, snoring lightly in that way that amused her rather than annoyed her.

He must have gone to see whoever or whatever he had meant although she hoped he would return before he had to leave for that dangerous period of the full moon. She wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. She wanted to love him at least once more before they were separated.

She got up and padded behind the screen and got ready for the day, slipping on one of his shirts, though she had several t-shirts he’d so thoughtfully provided her. Walking barefoot into the kitchen area, she fixed herself a cup of tea then sat down at the table to work on the resignation letter she’d started. Picking up the pen, she sat there tapping it against her bottom teeth, trying to come up with a perfect explanation for why Wendt and Hobart had not been able to find her. After ten minutes of staring at the paper, she pushed it aside with a hiss of disgust and leaned back.

“Why lie?” she said aloud. “Why not tell them I didn’t want to be found and that I hid from them? It’s partially true. Then again, why tell them anything? Why not just let them go on believing I’m dead.”

“Wendt knows you’re still alive and I suspect Hobart does, too,”
Jamie had told her.

“So what if I say I wanted to be with Jamie and didn’t want to go back?” she mumbled.

But would that explanation get Jamie in trouble? Would they step up their efforts to capture him, knowing he’d misled them? The Agency was geared for revenge and to know the Lycant had played them false would be like waving a red flag in their faces. He’d assured her the government would never take him back to Draeton, but would this make them try even harder to take him down? Would they send more men, especially if Wendt insisted she was not dead?

Worried for Jamie’s safety, she sat forward and put pen to paper.

* * * *

At that moment Jamie was standing at the waterfall, hands on his hips, staring at the place where he and Mairi had left their clothes. The clothing was gone and there were footprints in the loose shale--a man’s footprints--and the tracks led back toward the village. Frowning sharply, the Lycant scoured the area, reading the signs that suggested whoever had taken the clothing had scoped things out, did some tracking of his own and that concerned Jamie. Though the man’s tracks did not lead back toward the cave, that they were there, at all, was telling. The tracks were too damned close to his lair for his peace of mind.

Heading up the mountain toward the ridge, he kept a close watch on his surroundings, an ear tuned, a nose primed for sounds and scents that shouldn’t be there. The scent of the man who had invaded his territory was not familiar to Jamie--he’d made it his business to know the personal scent of every man in Lamb’s Grove. This man was a stranger.

Long before he reached the craggy ridge he knew the Guardian was following. The sense of doom and foreboding began to dog his every step and he constantly shifted his shoulders, feeling the hawk like eyes watching his every move. Though his back had been bothering him during the climb, he realized the pain had stopped, the overwhelming fear caused by the presence of the beast had dissipated, and he smiled to himself. Apparently the Guardian liked to play Healer and that was fine with Jamie. He only wished the Healing would last longer than just when he was in the presence of the formidable creature.

“
That would be good if it could be
,” came a heartfelt sigh and Jamie knew his thoughts were being read so casually by the powerful being.

He stopped, looking out over a spectacular view of the valley far below. For miles all there was to see was the blue-green vista that looked so serene, so safe yet he knew danger lurked somewhere in the peaceful scene spread out below him.

“There was an intruder at Muirnín Falls,” he told the Guardian. “Much too close to the cave.”

“The moon rises full tonight, eh?” An Fear Liath Mor commented and Jamie felt the beast right behind him.

“It does and I have come to ask a favor of you, Vainshtyr Coimirceoir.”

“Coim,” the Guardian corrected. “There is no Master here, nor are you my servant, Wolf.”

“Jamie,” the Lycant stated and heard a gruff chuckle.

“You want me to watch over your mate while you are snarling and growling and doing all manner of wolf things these next few days.” An eerie chuckle issued from the broad chest of the beast. “Do you lick your prick when you’re in beast form?”

Jamie shook his head at the vulgar question but grinned wickedly. “I’d have way too much fun if I did that and would most likely be slurping them all night.”

“Too true,” An Fear Liath Mor said with a wink. “At any rate, back to business.”

“I would not ask except with the intruder about ....”

“Consider it done, Jamie,” the creature declared. A heavy paw descended on the Lycant’s shoulder, weighing it down a bit then a comradely squeeze was extended before the paw was removed. “That is what friends are for.”

“Do you know what became of the human who ran away from the others?” Jamie inquired.

“He roams the hills,” the Guardian replied. “I see him now and again but he stays well clear of me. His reason has left him so I leave him be.” There was a pause. “Do you believe this is the one you sensed at the falls?”

“No. The scent is unknown to me,” Jamie said. “And it carries with it a sense of menace.”

“Then you should be very careful, my friend,” the beast said. “What do you propose doing?”

Jamie ran a hand through his loose hair. “I’ll go to the village and look about. I will ask the old woman. If there is a stranger, she will know of him.”

“You think him one of those who seek you?”

“I know he is. He took our clothing from the falls,” Jamie answered.

“Why would he do this?”

“Proof,” Jamie said. “Proof that she is alive and with me.”

“Clothing can belong to anyone, Wolf.”

“From that clothing, scientists can take DNA. Hair, skin sheds--those things are unique to each person. Identity can be determined.”

“Ah,” the Guardian drawled. “And that is not good?”

“That is not good,” Jamie agreed.

“Be careful, then,” An Fear Liath Mor said.

From the corner of his eye he saw the creature simply vanish into thin air and wished he had such ability.

* * * *

Elspeth gasped as she straightened up from adjusting the canned goods on the bottom shelf. “Damn it, boy! You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days! Make some noise when you come up behind a person, will ya?”

Jamie’s nostrils were quivering for he’d picked up the scent of the man he’d been tracking. “Who is the man whose stench is clogging my sinuses?”

The old woman shrugged. “His name is Colton Gray,” she replied. “The Endicott Gallery sent him. Seemed nice enough.”

Storm clouds gathered in the pale green eyes of the Lycant. “Why did he come here for my carvings and not the woman?”

Elspeth held up her hands. “He didn’t say and I didn’t ask. Should I have?”

“I want to know everything you can find out about any stranger who shows up here,” Jamie said, locking gazes with her. “How do you know he really came from the Gallery?”

The old woman blushed. “Well, I don’t, but he knew about the payment arrangements and he liked your lovers, Mac,” Elspeth said.

“I’ll just bet he did,” Jamie snapped. “Where is he now?”

“He left about an hour ago,” she told him. “Said he was in a hurry to get the statues back to the gallery for a showing.”

“How long was he here?”

“A little over a day,” she answered, her brows drawing together at his harsh tone. “He arrived right after you came for your lady’s clothes. Why? What’s wrong?”

“What reason did he give for staying so long?”

“Wanted to tour the village,” she replied. “Said it was quaint.” She searched his angry face. “He’s not who he said he was, is he?”

“He’s one of them,” Jamie said. The pull of the moon was making his blood-lust rise and his hands were opening and closing into fists at his side. A jittery feeling was beginning in the pit of his belly and slowly working its way up his spine, making it taut.

“Well, he’s gone now,” she said.

“They’ll be coming back,” he said and turned to leave.

“Full moon tonight?” she said.

“Aye.”

“Will she be safe?”

“The Guardian will be watching,” he told her.

Elspeth shuddered. The villagers did not like to have An Fear Liath Mor down from its realm and there would be nervousness, unease, a general feeling of discomfort among them for the next few days. Doors that were usually left unlocked at night would be bolted. No one would venture out after sundown. Pets would be brought it and stock kept penned close. It would be a long three days.

* * * *

“I have proof that she’s alive,” Agent Colton Gray said into his cell phone as he drove back down through the Pionós Mountains. “He has her. There’s no doubt about it.”

“Where are you now?” his boss inquired.

“About fifteen miles from Rayford.”

“A strike team will be in route within the hour.”

“I’ll be waiting,” Gray acknowledged.

* * * *

Simon Ordwell sat in the uncomfortable hospital chair with his elbows braced on the arms, fingers threaded together and watched as Cody Wendt dressed. He noticed the tremor in the agent’s hands, the constant licking of his lips, and the shifting of his light blue eyes, the nervous tic that pulled at Wendt’s cheek and knew the man had slipped over entirely into the territory of the psychotic.

“You said you’d give me something to bring him down,” Wendt said.

Ordwell nodded. “You are familiar with the direct-energy transmitters used during the war?”

“I got zapped by one once,” Wendt said with a snort. “That isn’t going to be enough to ....”

“The transprobe I have designed carries 475,000 volts housed within a dart about the size of a paperclip. Shot into the Lycant, it will drive him to his knees and render him unconscious for up to twenty minutes--more than ample time for you to inject him with a sizable dose of pairilis that will keep him out for the trip to Draeton.”

Wendt stopped buttoning his shirt. “Will it kill him?”

“No,” Ordwell replied, “but it will deliver a very painful, debilitating shock that will cause a very severe headache for days afterward, not to mention an infusion of agony throughout his entire musculature that will keep him weak and helpless.”