Hunter's Moon (4 page)

He placed his other hand over hers and silently thanked god that he wasn’t the only one shaking. Her fingers

trembled against his and her gaze was unsteady, her

eyes darting between his in an obvious effort to see

what he was thinking and whether he believed her.

He believed her.

He had the same feeling in the pit of his stomach as she did. He didn’t want this to end but something in the

recesses of his heart said that it was going to, and when it did, he wasn’t sure whether he’d see her again.

“I…I’m not that much of a hunter. I didn’t come up here for the wildlife. I came here for the solitude, for the peace away from prying eyes and pointed fingers. I’ve

had all the jokes made about me that I can take. I just want to pass life quietly up here researching.”

“Researching?” She cocked her head to one side and the corners of her lips tugged into a slight smile.

“This is going to sound a bit weird, but when I was a kid I was obsessed with all the alien movies and the horror and ghost stories. All of that stuff that people usually grow out of. Only I didn’t. I lost interest for a while, but 25

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then about twelve years ago I got into it again. I was married at the time. She left me when I quit my job to do research…into the paranormal.” He waited for her to laugh but she didn’t. Her smile broadened and there was such a look of happiness in her eyes that he felt as though he’d missed something.

He really couldn’t figure her out.

“Paranormal research? That’s like looking for the yeti and things, yes?” She took his glass of whisky from his hand and sipped it.

When she lowered the glass, his eyes followed it until it reached her chest and then it dropped out of view. The blanket had slipped again. He tried to tear his eyes away from the swell of her breasts and cursed his mind for

racing to recall how delicious they’d looked when she

was naked.

“Hmm?” he said dreamily and raised his brows.

“Yeti?” she repeated.

“Um…yes, well…I mean,” he stumbled on the words and

then cleared his throat. “I suppose. Yeti, vampires,

ghosts—”

“Werewolves?” she said with an air of hope about her.

He frowned for a moment and then nodded. “Those too.”

Neoma smiled. He was probably thinking she was crazy

for finding what he’d said something to be happy about, but for her it was. Was there a chance that he’d

understand or would his obsession over what he thought 26

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was fantasy disappear the moment he realised that it

was in fact a reality for some?

She drank down the rest of his glass of whisky to steady her nerves and handed it back to him. Their fingers

touched when he took it from her and tingles swept

through her body like a chill. She shuddered a little, unable to stop the reaction, and smiled shyly when he

narrowed his eyes softly on hers.

While he was refilling his glass, she drew the fur blanket she was wearing to one side and inspected the bandage

on her thigh. He’d done a good job and her natural

healing abilities were already beginning to mend the

wound.

She frowned when she realised that the pain was gone.

Her eyes unfocused as the call of the night sung in her veins and called to her soul.

“Neoma?” he said in a tone of voice that made her

realise that he was worried about her.

She stared at the rug they were sitting on, struggling for control inside and begging for a little more time.

“The storm is clearing,” she whispered and got to her

feet without thinking. She was halfway to the door when he stopped her.

He stood right in her path, blocking her way to the

outside. It was a dangerous move to make, but he didn’t know that. To him, she was just a woman, weaker and

lighter than him. He didn’t know how strong she really was.

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“Please let me pass. I shouldn’t have come here. I’ve put you in terrible danger.” She stared at his chest, unable to bring herself to look at his face and see the confusion there. He had a right to feel that way.

“You can’t go out there. You’ll freeze before you get far.”

A rumble echoed through her and she gritted her teeth, trying to keep herself together and attempting to ignore the sway of the moon. It was strong tonight. It called to her, promising her open fields of snow to run through

and the comforting embrace of the dark. She wanted to

answer it, wanted to let the howl she was holding inside come out, but if she did that then she would lose Scott forever.

If she left now, there was a chance she could see him

again.

But how long could she keep the truth from him?

She went to push him in the chest to make him move

but he caught hold of her hand. Her eyes widened when

she saw her fingernails had extended into their initial claw like state and struggled to get her hand back from him. Panic swept through her, pushing her heart to the limit as the adrenaline entered her veins. She muttered words of pleading, desperate for him not to see what she could.

She stilled when he looked down. His brows knit. His

eyes narrowed. He stared at her hand for the longest

time as though trying to understand what he was seeing.

She snatched her hand back and went to run to the door but he caught hold of her other arm, stopping her in her tracks. His hands moved to her shoulders, turning her to 28

Hunter’s Moon – Felicity Heaton

face him. She didn’t resist him. His touch had calmed

the animal inside of her, making her desire to change

drift to the back of her mind. She could feel the door behind her, but she knew escape was impossible now.

“Just let me go,” she said, even though it broke her

heart to voice those words. She kept her face turned

away from him so she didn’t have to see the horror in

his eyes and told herself it was best that she left. He would never want her, not now.

There was silence and then he moved closer to her.

“I don’t need to know what’s got you scared, or how it is you came to be on my porch, naked and shot, but I do

know one thing. I can’t let you go,” he said in a near whisper, his voice husky with desire.

Her breathing quickened, racing to match the thundering heartbeat that was sounding in her ears. Her eyes

widened when he dipped his head and she watched his

mouth move towards her. Anticipation coiled in her

stomach, waiting for the moment his lips touched hers to explode into a wash of fireworks that raced through her body.

Her eyelids drooped and then gave up the fight when his lips brushed softly against hers in a slow, tentative kiss.

She was stunned into stillness at first and then slowly she became aware of what was happening and began to

kiss him back, her lips exploring his. She absorbed how his stubble scratched her chin, and the way his mouth

tasted of whisky, and the warmth of his tongue when it swept across the gap between her lips, begging entrance from her. She parted her teeth and her tongue came to

meet his. Her heart missed a beat and she involuntarily gasped when her tongue touched his.

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She tensed for the briefest of moments and then pressed her hands into his chest, her body melting into his

embrace as he wrapped his arms about her. They

surrounded her, holding her steady and stopping her

from leaving.

Like she’d ever really wanted to.

This was what she wanted. She wanted to be in his arms and feel like what she was wasn’t a problem. Maybe it

wouldn’t be. Maybe he was the one for her after all, just like she’d prayed he would be.

Her hands slid up his chest to his neck, gliding over the rigid muscles of it to his hair. She moaned into his

mouth at the silkiness of it under her fingers and he

responded by pulling back and looking at her.

“Still want to leave?” he whispered with so much desire that her knees trembled.

She shook her head, unable to get her senses straight

enough to find her voice. She felt muddled and a little dizzy, and she was sure it wasn’t just the alcohol that was responsible for her feeling that way.

“We should get you off your feet,” he said.

She nodded and stared into his grey eyes, fascinated

with the darkness of them and how full of hunger they

were. He’d make a perfect wolf. Maybe one day he’d let her change him and they could be together always.

She’d never be lonely again.

Scott swept her up into his arms and carried her back to the rug in front of the fire. She was gazing at him with 30

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such a spellbound look, as though this was some

moment in a fantasy for her rather than reality. It didn’t feel real to him either. He barely knew her, but at the same time he felt as though he did. There was something so familiar about her. He must have seen her before tonight.

Laying her down on the rug, he smiled at her while he

sat back on his heels. She ran her hand idly down her

chest, a single finger luring his eyes to her breasts and the fur blanket that was hiding them.

“There’s hunger in your eyes,” she said and her finger crept slowly downwards while her voice became

seductive. “What are you hungry for?”

He swallowed. A part of him said that things were going too fast but the rest of him kept telling it to shut the hell up. He felt an urgent need for her, as though what she’d said earlier was true. This night was going to end too soon, and he couldn’t let her walk away, he had to do

this in case he never saw her again. He had to have

some perfect moment to remember her by because he’d

never meet anyone like her again.

“I’m not sure,” he said and cursed the part of him that had won control long enough to voice those words.

She smiled and traced her fingers lower, flattening her palm against her body when she reached her stomach

and not stopping until she touched her navel. The fur

she was wearing was parted enough for him to see a

strip of her torso. When she sat up, the blanket almost fell open. It barely clung to her breasts, keeping her nipples hidden from him and making him want to reach

out and gently brush it aside so he could see them. She 31

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extended a hand towards him and caught hold of his

shirt, pulling him close to her.

“What are you doing?” he said when his mouth was a

hair’s breadth away from hers.

“Don’t deny yourself…give in to your desire. Listen to your heart,” she whispered in a lust-filled voice that sent arousal bolting through him, making him harden in his

jeans.

How could he deny her? It seemed so impossible. More

than that, he didn’t want to deny himself. He wanted

her. He wanted her in a way he’d never felt before. The feeling was a primal urge, a desire to take what was in front of him and make it his. She called to his animal instincts, making him react to the base urge consuming him.

He had to have her.

She had to be his.

With a growl that was barely human, he pulled her to

him and smashed his mouth against hers. She melted

instantly in his arms, her body relaxing while his

tightened, and her fingers wrapped themselves around

his shoulders. God she tasted good. Something about

her was driving him wild. He was losing all control and the fact that it scared him a little only added to how aroused he was.

She leaned backwards, luring him down onto the rug

with her, and his eyes flickered to her body when their mouths broke apart. He groaned when he saw one deep

pink nipple had been exposed to him and his attention

was immediately with it. Dipping his head, he ran his

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tongue around it and then flicked it with the tip. Her fingers dug into his hair and she brought her left knee up, making the fur fall away from that side completely and drawing his gaze to it. He ran his fingers over the bandage and delighted in the way she trembled beneath

them, her body lifting off the floor a little. Trailing his hand downwards, he followed the sweep of her inner

thigh and moved his gaze to meet hers while he slid it underneath the blanket.

Blood rushed through his ears, drowning out the sound

of the crackling fire and her quiet moan while she bit her lip. He breathed out shakily, his heart beating so fast that he felt dizzy.

Swallowing in an attempt to stop his mouth from feeling so dry, he edged his hand further downward and then

frowned and closed his eyes when he made contact with

the curly hair covering her pussy.

She arched into his touch, forcing his fingers to slide between her lips and into the soft, slick core of her. The tattered, fragile threads of control he’d been holding on to snapped. Withdrawing his hand, he knelt and hastily unbuttoned his shirt, growing annoyed when his shaking fingers made it almost impossible to do as swiftly as he wanted. He tugged it off over his head and was about to toss it onto the couch when she sat up and raked her

nails down both sides of his abdomen. He threw his head back, his body jerking and tensing with pleasure at the jolt of pain.

He groaned and dropped his shirt when he heard the

clink of metal and felt her tugging at his belt. He was about to say something but speech became just a hazy

memory when she popped the top button of his jeans

and pulled at the two sides, forcing the rest of the

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buttons to pop open. He could only moan when she