Beneath a Darkening Moon (15 page)

His grin was quick and predatory. “Until I say,” he repeated fiercely, and drove deep inside her, claiming her with his body as thoroughly as he had claimed her with his words.

And as much as she hated his actions, with the moon driving them so fiercely, she had no desire to fight or push him off. She wrapped her legs tighter around him, holding him close as he began to move. She moved with him, relishing the sensations flowing through her. Right now, that’s all she really had, because his actions tonight had smashed the tiny spark of hope that had lingered in her heart. All he cared about, all he’d ever cared about, was his satisfaction. She’d been a fool to hope for anything else.

His strokes became stronger, faster, and once again the sweet pressure began to build until it seemed her whole body ached with the need for release.

When he came, she went with him, his roar drowning out her own strangled groan as his body slammed into hers so hard the whole sofa shook.

But as the power of her own release faded, and the reverberations of his roar grew fainter, she heard the footsteps.

They were no longer alone in the lodge.

E
VEN THROUGH THE
red haze of satisfaction, Cade heard the sound. He froze, listening, as the night air began to chill the sweat on his skin and tension rippled through Vannah’s warm body beneath him.

“You expecting someone?” he whispered, glancing down. Her green eyes glowed like an angry cat’s in the darkness.

“No.” Her soft voice was curt. “And get off me.”

He did. She rolled swiftly upright, clambering off the sofa and padding to the door. The moonlight filtering in from the next room caressed her, making her skin gleam like porcelain.

Desire stirred anew, but he ignored it and rose to stand behind her. Another heavy step echoed across the silence, then another. Cade frowned. Those weren’t the steps of someone trying to sneak up on them. Quite the opposite, in fact.

“I think—”

“It’s Ronan,” she said at the same time, then added, “I’ll go talk to him.”

“Not naked, you won’t.”

She turned around. The fury in her eyes should have
been warning enough, but he was too busy watching the flicker of the moon’s cold light in her glorious golden hair to actually watch what she was doing. He barely had time to register the fact that she’d raised her fist when the blow crashed into his chin with surprising force, snapping his head back and dropping him to the floor. He hit with a bone-crunching grunt and, for a moment, couldn’t even breathe.

“Don’t you ever use the moon’s magic on me like that again!” She stood at his feet, her fists clenched, her body quivering with the force of her anger.

His own anger crashed through him, but desire came with it, so thick and fast it overrode his fury. God, she looked so beautiful standing there, with the heat of her rage warming the moon’s silvery glow on her skin. And though anger still burned, he wasn’t exactly sure who he was angry at—her for punching him, or himself for being decked so easily.

“Or what?” he retorted. “You’ll shoot me?”

“Shooting is too good for a bastard who abuses the moon gift.” Her gaze skated down his body and came to rest on his cock. “I think a well-placed cut or two might be more advantageous.”

“You’ll never get
that
close with a knife, sweetheart, so drop the idea.”

She bared her teeth. “Who needs a knife?”

He laughed, even though he knew her threat was real. “Who’d have guessed that the sweet wolf I promised myself to was such a hellion?”

“Sweet?” She snorted softly. “I was many things, but I was
never
sweet. As you’ve already noted.” She glanced over her shoulder briefly and said, “Wait here.”

Wait here when she was out flaunting her charms to another wolf? Not damn likely. He scrambled to his feet, but the sudden movement had pain shooting through his jaw and cheek. He winced and carefully touched the side of his face. Bruised for sure, and at least one loose tooth.

She sure could pack a punch—both physically
and
sexually. Which was why he wasn’t about to let her go before this case was solved. As much as he understood the risk of getting involved with her again when a madman bent on revenge was on the loose, he just couldn’t help it. The moon had him in its grip, and there was no fighting it.

But that didn’t exactly explain why he’d prolonged the situation by forcing her to agree to a longer term, other than the fact that he wasn’t about to let another wolf have what he wanted. Not this time, when he could actually do something to stop it. The first time it would have endangered his mission. This time, there was no such restriction—and he’d be damned if he’d share her again.

He didn’t care about the anger his demand had caused. She’d never denied her desire for him, and as long as that desire was still there, he was going to take full advantage of it. Besides, given the events that had unfolded ten years ago thanks to her decisions, his actions tonight barely began to approximate payback.

The murmur of conversation dragged him out of his thoughts and got him moving. He strode through the moonlit room and out into the corridor. Savannah and Ronan were standing down the hall, and far too close for his liking. They were talking so softly he
couldn’t make out the words, but if body language was anything to go by, Ronan wasn’t telling Vannah anything she wanted to hear. As Cade approached, Ronan looked up, his gaze locking with Cade’s.

And what Cade saw in the other man’s eyes didn’t really surprise him. He’d expected anger and possessiveness, and they were both there, though not in the volumes he’d expected. But what he didn’t anticipate was what he found when he skimmed the ranger’s thoughts. The reason for those emotions wasn’t the fury of a wolf whose mate had been poached, but rather concern for Vannah herself. Beyond that, one clear and definite thought echoed—and it was a warning very evident in the clear gray depths of Ronan’s eyes.

Hurt her, and you’re a dead man
.

Cade halted behind Vannah and crossed his arms. “What do you want, ranger?”

Ronan’s gaze skimmed the bruised side of Cade’s face, and amusement touched one corner of his mouth. “Trista and Anton are looking for you. Since neither of you are answering your phones, I thought I’d better come up here and warn you before someone else thought of it.”

“If my team wanted me, they could have easily found me. I’m tagged with a locator.”

“Then you wouldn’t have minded them finding you like this?”

Ronan’s tone suggested
he
minded very much, and Cade resisted the impulse to bite back a comment on who actually had rights when it came to Savannah. He simply growled, “What do they want?”

“How would I know? Your people play their cards
very close. Anyone would think we were on opposing sides, rather than partners in this investigation.”

Cade ignored the barb. After all, Ripple Creek’s rangers weren’t exactly forthcoming with information, either. And given the tension emanating from the woman who stood so close to them both, he very much suspected the news about his team wasn’t the only reason Ronan had come up here. “How did the name collecting go today?”

“A total of fifty-three people checked in during the two weeks before the murders began. I believe Trista intends to run the names through your system.”

Cade nodded. The IIS had access to a greater range of information than the rangers did.

“Any likely suspects?”

“No.” Ronan glanced at Vannah. “I’ll see you outside?”

She nodded. “Give me five minutes to get dressed.”

“What’s going on?” Cade said, the minute Ronan left.

She gave him a contemptuous look. “Town business.” Then she pushed past him and headed for her clothes.

Annoyance flared. Damn it, he had the
right
to know what was going on—with the case, and with her and Ronan. He followed her, trying to keep his thoughts away from the enticing sway of her hips, the erotic way silken strands of her hair caressed her shoulders and back.

“What sort of town business?”

“Not the sort of town business that’s any of
your
business.”

“Savannah,” he warned.

She grabbed her bra and began putting it on. “Oh, so now you remember my name?”

“Is it anything to do with our case?”

“If it was, I’d be reporting it, like the good little lackey I am.”

“You are not a lackey.”

She snorted. “Get real. Reservation rangers are always lackeys for you guys. Hell, IIS seems to think we haven’t the training to tie our boots properly.”

“I’ve never treated—”

“So why is Ronan playing guide to Trista?” She hesitated, and her gaze widened. “You bastard. You were getting him out of your way, weren’t you?”

She was
far
too quick—which was probably the reason she’d been made head ranger at such a young age. That and the fact that her daddy was the head of the reservation council. “It’s always better to have a local on those sorts of information-gathering missions.”

“Please credit me with a little intelligence.” She shook her head and grabbed her pants. “You disappoint me, Cade.”

He laughed. “
I
disappoint
you?
Sweetheart, disappointment is one of the milder emotions I felt when you ran away ten years ago.”

“I told you why I ran.”

“Because I read your mind?”

“Because you forced yourself into my mind!” She looked up at him, and something deep inside him stilled when he saw the sheen of tears in her eyes. “No telepath should do that to another. Not ever.”

Part of him wanted to step forward and wrap his
arms around her, soothe away all the hurt, all the tears. The other part—the angry, hurt part—rejoiced.

She was right; he was a bastard. “In whose world?”

“In my world. In the world of telepathic wolves.”

“Well, there is no such rule in
my
world.”

“Which is why you and I would have never worked out.”

He snorted. “We work out just fine in the only place that matters.”

She stared at him, and the pain in her expression gradually faded until there was nothing left except an odd sort of emptiness. And for some reason, that made him think he’d made a huge mistake, but what exactly that mistake was, he didn’t know. Yet something inside wanted to retract the words and ask for forgiveness.

“There was a fire over on the east side,” she said, her voice matter-of-fact. “The fire department thinks it could be suspicious. Ronan and I are heading over.”

“Why you two? I thought Bodee was on evening call?” Damn it, why was he arguing? What did it matter? Or was it simply the fact she was heading off with her usual lover when, by the right of the moon and the night, she should be with him?

Was he
jealous?

Of course he was. She was his mate, no matter how temporary or unwillingly. And no wolf shared what was his.

“Bodee
is
on call. After eight.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s barely seven.”

“What about Denny and Club Grange?”

She bent, picking up her boots and putting them on. “I’ll meet you there. And I suggest you put on a
disguise yourself because, by now, half the town will know you’re here, even if they don’t know why.”

With that, she brushed past him and walked out the door. He was tempted to drag her back into his arms and kiss her until the ice was erased from her expression, but that wasn’t practical or sensible. The moon fever would ensure she’d be back in his arms before long and, right now, there was work to be done.

He dressed and headed back to his room—or rather, his team’s room. Anton was again sitting on the floor with the laptop perched in front of him, but he glanced up as Cade entered.

“Have you got your phone turned off, boss?”

“No, but I’ve had signal problems. What’s up?”

Anton’s expression suggested he wasn’t buying it, but he kept his thoughts to himself, for which Cade was extremely thankful. He didn’t need any more problems right now.

“Hart faxed over the autopsy report on the second victim.” Anton picked up a folder and tossed it across the coffee table toward Cade. “The MO is much the same.”

“Is the note included?” Cade picked up the folder and looked through it. There’d been a note there, all right.

“As was stolen from me, so shall I steal from you,”
Anton quoted, and met Cade’s gaze squarely. “Savannah Grant is Vannah Harvey, isn’t she?”

“Yes.” There was no point in denying it. Anton and Trista would have to know anyway, given the threats against her. “What made you suspect?”

“The notes themselves. I mean, why leave one at the head ranger’s when she was never at Rosehall?
Unless, of course, she was there under an assumed name.” He paused, brown eyes filled with annoyance. “When were you going to tell us?”

“That’s what I came back here to do.” He handed over the evidence bag that had the tape in it. “Once you listened to that, her alter ego would have been evident, anyway.”

“Which is why you insisted on keeping this bag rather than me bringing it back here with the rest of the evidence?” Anton paused. “That’s not good legal form, you know.”