Nightfall (31 page)

Just like that, Chris's enthusiasm drained away. Even if he figured out every aspect of their situation on a scientific level—which seemed less likely with each revelation—they wouldn't be any better off. His inquiries, no matter their accuracy, didn't guarantee they'd get through winter or survive against the monsters come spring.

Intellectual masturbation
.

His shoulders slumped, and a headache flared at his temples. Their group would be better off if he put away his microscopes and found the guts to pick up a rifle.

“Thanks for dinner,” Tru muttered before heading back downstairs. He acted like something terrible would happen should he leave his post for more than fifteen minutes. Hell, maybe he was right.

Jenna and Mason excused themselves as soon as their plates were empty.

Chris watched Ange washing up, his mind elsewhere. Penny stayed to help, which was new. She dried the dishes carefully, looking for approval each time she finished one. Dishes done, Ange leaned down and kissed the girl's cheek. Penny's arms went around her neck in a tight hug.

Chris knew he ought to take some comfort in this scene. It should make him feel better that he was part of this family, at least peripherally. Hell, he could have ended up alone and insane. But their obvious closeness did nothing to improve his mood.

“Is it okay if Maisie and I go downstairs and play with Finn?”

Maisie was her bear, but who was Finn? Chris had no idea.

“You mean Tru?” Ange asked.

“Nope.” Penny laughed softly. “I mean Finn. He's waiting for me.”

An imaginary friend, he guessed. That was as normal as the kid got.

Ange kissed the top of Penny's head. “Just don't go wandering around the subbasement.”

“I won't.”

Once they were alone, she turned to Chris. “You all right?”

“Why wouldn't I be?”

She sighed and tucked a strand of red hair behind one ear. “Because Mason took you off at the knees.”

He shrugged, although his shoulders had stiffened. “I'm used to it.”

“That doesn't make it right. We need to know all we can. The rules have changed.”

Chris studied her, wondering what she really thought of him. “Do you believe what Mason said? About magic?”

“I think I have to. It's that or go crazy.” She touched his arm. “I just wish we could do something useful with it, like cook. Right now, we can only react to changing circumstances, which have become
impossible
to understand. If it's a force, then we should be able to shape it. But we don't know enough.”

“My undergrad courses didn't include any hermetic theory. Sorry.” Chris knew he sounded bitter.

“Chris?”

“I'm obsolete,” he muttered. “Nothing I do helps. Everything I spent years learning is worthless.”

Ange shook her head. “Look, Tru may not follow you around like you're some big hero because you can fix a generator, but where would we be without you? Sitting in the dark, freezing to death—that's where.” She exhaled softly. “You matter, Chris.”

“Do I?” In his tone, he heard himself asking a question.

This probably wasn't the time, and it might end up ... complicated. He'd never been good at making relationships work, even during the best of times. He shouldn't push for more. But something about the desperation they faced every day made him look at Angela and keep looking.

After crossing the space between them, she put her arms around his waist and gave a gentle squeeze. “You do,” she said firmly, her cheek against his chest.

Chris felt as unbending as a hunk of iron, but feminine warmth eased his tension. Her body shaped to his, and he rested his chin on her hair. They stood not speaking, just being, until he murmured his thanks against her temple.

“No problem. Want to watch the snow with me? It's really coming down.” She paused, studying him as if she felt as unsure as he did. “Unless you have work to do. You don't have to.”

“Well, I do need to ...” He touched her lightly on the cheek. “You know what? It'll keep.”

“Do you mind if we check on Penny first?”

“No. I was going to suggest it.”

They went down to the dorms, hand in hand, and peeked through the doorway. Penny sat on her bunk, cradling Masie the bear and humming softly. “Finn, you have a nice voice. I like the funny way you say words. What should we do today?”

Chris smiled. This was ... well, almost normal. He led the girl's mom away before Penny realized they had been watching.

Maybe it didn't matter if science no longer provided all the answers. He could adapt. Mason would keep an eye on Jenna, so they wouldn't be mauled in the night. Penny had returned to the land of the living, and Ange wanted to spend time with him. Maybe the changed world wasn't as dark as he'd feared.

While Jenna sat on the bunk Tru had once used, Mason stripped off his shirt. He felt her eyes on him, assessing his every move the way he'd watched her in the shower. Blatant feminine interest, coupled with memories of her slick, soapy skin, left him aching in places only Jenna could ease. She had a wolf locked up inside her, but he'd become the real animal—restless, caged, wary.

He stood facing the closed door to the dorm room, his head bowed. The bright fluorescent bulbs overhead would show her with unforgiving clarity. No warm lamplight, like there in the gazebo. He no longer thought she'd deny him, but the ground had shifted. They couldn't will the earthquake to stop.

“Dark magic,” he said, the words a low rumble. “A Dark Age.”

He turned. Jenna's eyes flicked to his bare chest, down his abdomen, and down again to his fly. Her nostrils flared slightly. Green irises darkened. “Good and evil. They might be burning midwives as witches, out there somewhere.”

She reached out with her mind and smoothed warm sensations along the base of his neck. His nipples pebbled and his abs tensed. Minds open, looking through her eyes, he could see just how much she enjoyed the view of his naked torso. For the first time, he realized how beautiful she found him, and that moved him in a way that left him raw.

“Then there's this.” A smile tipped up the corners of her lips. “Pretty fucking magical.”

“You gonna tell Chris?”

“Nah. He'd only try to science it away and then get bummed when he failed. He's having a hard enough time with the monsters, and they're pretty straightforward.” She huffed out a little laugh. “Ange better not fall in love with him, or he'll quantify it into the ground.”

Mason's chest seized at the mention of that word. He'd loved her. Probably still did. But he didn't know if he had the guts to run with it all the way. What would they face in years to come? Only more potential for loss. He couldn't stop it and he couldn't lock her up. She made him vulnerable. Those days when he thought she would die—that it couldn't spin any other way—had been the worst of his life. The urge to shut her out represented his need for self-preservation, even as she tempted him to share even more.

“How would you explain it?” he asked, sitting on the opposite bed.

Jenna uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, elbows propped on open knees. The pose was more confident than she'd ever used, and the challenge of her boiled in his blood. Rock hard just from being in the same room, he wanted to test her. Tame her.

“You're my mate,” she said, her eyes heavy-lidded and intense. “When we couldn't manage with five senses, we found another way to communicate.”

His cock throbbed. “Your mate.”

“Yes. Do you want me in here with you, or are you just worried about what I might do?”

“I'm not worried.”

She stiffened. “That's not an answer.”

“What do you want me to say? I've been caring for you for days. And now you're back.”
But not the same.
He licked his lips. “Are we just supposed to pick up where we left off?”

“Yes.”

“I can't.”

“Why not?” The sparkle in her eyes might be a dare. Or hurt. “Because I've changed?”

Sleek and silver, crouched and mistrustful, she'd returned to him. Changed—shit, yes. Irrevocably. But at that moment, she was still Jenna. He wanted her and he feared the vulnerability. Yet by her tight, guarded expression, she expected him to be ... what? Afraid? Repulsed?

“You're you,” he said roughly.

“Yeah. And you're John Mason. You're not a wolf, but you're still a man.”

Standing, her movements lithe and certain, she stripped off her sweatshirt and then the cotton T-shirt beneath. No bra. Just sudden, bare flesh. Mason groaned. If she stepped forward, her hard, dark pink nipples would be level with his mouth.

She did.

Rigid and hot, Mason banded her slim waist with his hands. He gave a rough squeeze, mad for the taste of her. “I want you. Still. But damn, Jenna, don't leave me again.”

“I can't promise that.”

Now he understood her need to hear an encouraging word. He needed the lie right then.
It'll be all right, John. I'll never leave you.
But she told the truth.

“When did you get so strong?” he whispered.

“Somewhere between being thrown in the trunk of my car ... and right now. You showed me how.” Her green eyes were bright and turbulent. “John?”

“Yeah?”

She braced herself with both hands on his shoulders. “Take my pants off.”

Mason swallowed hard. They held still, watching each other. Her quirking smile teased, wagering that desire would overcome any remaining doubts. He was inclined to let her win that bet. After the hell of worrying for days, he needed her. Everything else could wait.

He leaned nearer and licked the underside of one breast, his tongue sliding up to the tip of her tight nipple. Her pelvic bones stood out sharply where once she'd been fleshier, rounder, reminding him of how many days he'd force-fed her canned chicken broth while tending her bite wound. Waiting.

He hooked his thumbs under the waistband. One quick tug revealed brown curls. His mouth went dry. “Did you give up on underwear?”

She arched her brows. “Complaining?”

“Nope.”

“Good.”

“Seems to me a woman walking around without underwear has sex on her mind. Is that true?” He carefully slipped the material past her thigh. The wound had healed so much that she no longer wore a bandage. “That why you're drooling over me like I'm dessert?”

“You conceited—”

“Is it why you washed for me?” He cupped the backs of her legs and slid his hands up, from knee to thigh, then back down.

“You followed me to the shower. I only wanted to get clean.”

“Right.”

Her smiled widened. “Can't help it if you get off on watching.”

“That's not what gets me off.” He slid his index finger lengthwise between her legs, finding warm, wet folds.

“You talk too much,” she breathed.

“That's not what you used to think.”

She angled her head down to meet his gaze. Direct. Challenging. “I've changed.”

“Yes,” he whispered against the skin of her belly. “I think you have.”

Jenna pushed him back against the bunk and stepped out of her pants. Then she attacked his jeans, ripping open the top button, unzipping his fly, and yanking the denim down over his hips. His briefs came next. All the while, she ate him with her eyes, every inch of skin flaming beneath her fierce stare.

With one hand propped on either side, she leaned down along his naked body. Hot as a brand, her tongue flicked out and touched just above his bellybutton. Mason hissed and tensed. She pushed farther up until her face was level with his chest. She inhaled deeply and grinned.

“What was that you said, John?
Mine.
”

She bit down on the flesh of his pectoral. At first he clenched his muscles against the sharp pain, fighting it. But her teeth sank deeper. Mason closed his eyes and submitted to her sharp, testing hold. He let the pain numb him, a drug in his veins. She'd break the skin soon, but he didn't care. And all the while his cock pulsed hard and thick, caught by the mindless friction of her belly against his.

Her teeth sank in, just deep enough. Blood welled from the broken skin, and she tasted him, savage and erotic. He lay quietly beneath her mouth, heart thudding in his ears. The glow around her intensified, as if by taking his blood, she'd done ... something. Maybe even magic—the most powerful kind of all. He sure as shit felt trapped under her spell.

She raised her head from his chest, green eyes scared and stricken. “Oh
shit
. I'm sorry. You should've stopped me—”

“I can take it,” he said, breathing her in. “If it's going to happen, I want it to come from you, not them.” He grabbed her wrist and gently sucked the pulse there. Her mouth went slack on a low moan.

She pressed her lips to the still-tender mark. “But you don't need more scars.”

“We're talking again.”

“Don't want that.”

“I want inside you.”

The connection between them amped up. He was so turned on he couldn't stand it. Couldn't wait for her. Her need to fuck clamored inside his head too, as sexual frustration urged him out of his own skin.

Sinking into her willing body would erase every horror they still faced. He could forget it all if she opened for him. Jenna was
his
—beyond time, beyond death.
Mine. Mate
. And he didn't know whose thought that was.