Blood Moons (28 page)

252

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

Chase was in the room. "Then I'll just have to be in the cage with you," she told him recklessly.

Tristan released her as if she'd burned him and backed away again to the bed. There he sat, and there he stayed, tense and silent while Dara and Dr. Chase discussed the details of what Dara would be expected to do. He even shut himself off telepathically.

It had taken him nearly half an hour to change completely, the doc told her. Dara couldn't even imagine the pain he must have gone through. The huge risk he'd taken with his life. It was just like her telepathy. Tristan had opened the door with this complete shift, and now it was a chaotic new ability that could get activated at any moment. If Tristan didn't learn to control it, it would destroy him. She knew he wasn't about to give up on this, but if she could somehow ease the process, Dara would try.

One way or another, he was going to learn how to change his shape at will and only at will. And he'd learn to do it painlessly.

"I think I'm ready. Let's get to work."

Tristan met her gaze, his eyes cold as ice. In that moment, cut off from his mind, Dara thought he might actually hate her.

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253

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

19th day of the 4th Blood Moon, 3028

"How long was that?"

"Nine twenty in and fifteen two out."

"It takes you longer to shift back to human. Why is that?"

"If you knew how much this hurts, you wouldn't ask."

"I know how much it will hurt if you don't get it under
control."

Tristan glared daggers.

"Let's take a break," Amelia suggested. Tristan could have kissed her feet. "Eat something, relax for a while. If you're up to it, you can go outside. I hear it's nice today. Not that I'd know."

Tristan stabbed his legs through the pants he'd had the good sense to take off today before he'd started shifting. His body felt weak, but the pain wasn't as intense as he'd made it sound to Dara. If he'd known what a relentless, merciless tyrant she'd turn out to be he would have tried a lot harder to chase her away.

When Amelia opened the cage, he all but ran out of the lab and into the sun. It felt like heaven on his skin and he wanted to roll around in it and forget he'd ever been human. He hadn't seen the sun in days. Barefoot, he took off into the forest, seeking solitude. The ground was covered with dry leaves and, warmed by the sun, it smelled sweet and musky.

His instinct told him to get that scent on him. Easier to hide 254

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that way. For a moment, that sounded like a good idea.

Better the forest than the sterile lab.

At the outside edge of the forest, where it gave way to a clearing and then the lake, someone had raked the leaves into piles. Tristan couldn't resist. He threw himself onto one of those piles, tossing the leaves in the air until they rained down on him in a shower of bright colors. He let them fall where they may, linked his hands behind his head, and watched clouds move across the sky.

Contentment as he hadn't known since he'd been a child filled him and, like a cat sunning itself—which, he supposed, he was now—he let his eyelids droop and put everything else from his mind.

He could get used to this. It wasn't so bad having immense strength and the instinct to frolic in leaves, as long as there was no one around to hurt. He stretched and yawned, feeling like the king of the forest. This was his domain, and no one could challenge him here. He liked that feeling. For once, embraced it, along with this new tiger sense. Maybe if he didn't fight it, it wouldn't hurt so much.

It was worth considering. There were advantages to being a tiger that went beyond heightened senses and a really awesome tail. Just the way Dara looked at him when he was a tiger was worth all the pain he went through to change.

Tristan had expected her to freak out like Amelia had. But once the shift was complete, Dara always came right up to that cage and put her hands on him, like he was just some giant domestic cat she was petting. And it felt so damn good.

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But it made him forget he was so much bigger and stronger than she was. She took his paw and rubbed her cheek over it, and Tristan held his breath, his claws too close to her slender neck. Just shifting his weight could put him off balance enough to lean on her too much. He constantly had visions of seeing her with her chest ripped open. Dara had faith that he was safe. And he couldn't make her leave, so he walked on pins and needles around her, hoping he wouldn't prove her wrong.

It was always both a relief and a chore to change back to human when his ten minutes of playtime were up. They timed it—Dara and Amelia. Tristan got ten minutes to catch his breath, with Dara petting him, and then she moved away and told him to change again. And just to be able to feel her hands on him again, he did. Because once he was fully human, she was right there, checking him for injuries.

Brushing his hair aside, like he was some terminal patient.

He got water to drink, a bite to eat. Then his twenty minutes of rest were up and Dara went right back to Amelia's side and told him to change to tiger again. He hated both of them for it. Hated how much he wanted to do it right, just so he could see Dara smile at him with so much pride shining in her eyes.

Tristan scented Dara long before he heard her. He didn't move, waiting to see what she would do. But when she stopped at the forest's edge and didn't come closer, he opened one eye to look and cocked his head to beckon her closer. Part of him almost wished she would run away. He 256

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wanted to feel the thrill of chasing her. Delighted in imagining what he would do to her once he caught her.

She was wearing those form-fitting jeans again today and a deep green sleeveless top that covered her shoulders, but left the bandages on her arm exposed. The sight of them made him tense, the contentment he'd felt until now fading.

She'd tossed the sling away yesterday because it had annoyed her, but he knew it still caused her pain to move her arm around. Hands in her back pockets, she came forward slowly, as if waiting for him to change his mind. He watched the sway of her hips, a low growl rumbling in his chest. He'd dreamed of this. Being free of the underground hell, watching Dara in the sunshine, with nothing around but open space.

He'd craved the freedom of it, but more than that, he'd craved the peace of her presence in it.

"I thought you'd be sick of me by now," she said, lowering down next to him.

Sick of being in the same room and unable to put his arms around her. Sick of the incessant spying that kept him from stripping her down and tasting her skin again.
Sick of
anything that keeps me from her.
"Not yet." He put his arm around her and pulled her to his chest, careful of her shoulder. Nothing would ever smell so good as her hair. She'd left it loose today and Tristan put his face into it and breathed in as much as his lungs would allow.

Dara smiled against him and snuggled closer. "You do the strangest, sweetest things."

It would have been perfect to just lie there in the sun with her and let hours pass by. He wanted more than anything to 257

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have enough peace of mind to do that; to not worry that he might shift if he fell asleep and crush her, or wake up with his arms empty of beautiful, brave Dara. But there was something he needed to do, and he dreaded it so much his hands shook when he began to carefully unwind the bright white bandage from Dara's arm.

A long white patch covered her wounds beneath the bandage. It adhered to her skin with an ointment that sped up the healing process and kept the wound from getting infected. It covered nearly the entire back of her upper arm, from shoulder to elbow. He'd done this to her.

"It's not too bad," Dara said.

Tristan didn't believe her. She was tense in his arms and tensed even more as he began to slowly peel away the patch.

The doctors had used another kind of adhesive to stitch the wound closed. It was a clean, straight cut about seven inches long and he had no idea how deep. He could tell by the shade of red that it got deeper the farther down her arm it went.

One claw mark. Because her arm was too thin to have been marked by the others. But there was a red welt along the side where his claw had scraped her.

His chest couldn't hurt more if he'd stabbed himself in the heart and twisted the blade.

"It's already healing," Dara told him, but nothing she said could relieve the guilt. "Please don't look like that. It's nothing, really."

Nothing.
Compared to the marks he knew he'd find on her back, this
was
nothing.
Millimeters away from piercing her
lung
. He'd nearly killed her.

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Dara's fingers brushed into his hair, tugged him down to her. Tristan followed, touching his face to her shoulder and neck while she soothed him. But he pulled away. "You shouldn't be comforting me, not after what I've done." He kissed the wound, wishing he could give her his regenerative abilities, and bandaged her back up. It wasn't as neat as the doctors had done it; she'd have to have it redone when they returned to the med camp.

Dara made an annoyed sound and shoved at him, rolling with him until she ended up straddling him. "I think I've had just about enough of us feeling sorry for ourselves," she declared and kissed him deep. No holds barred, no shy peck on the lips. She kissed him like nothing else mattered and Tristan was lost.

He slapped his hands over the sweet curves of her ass and brought her down on him, grinding against her shamelessly until she moaned. She squeezed him with her knees for leverage and rubbed her breasts against him. He could tell she wasn't wearing a bra—the straps would have cut right across her wounds. That thought stung a little, but he brushed it away, just enjoying the feel of her against him.

Too long without touching her.

Christ, he'd
missed
her!

Thought faded away beneath an onslaught of heat and lust. As it slowly took him over, it crossed his mind that perhaps Amelia's question might be valid. Just what
was
it about Dara that affected him this way?

She grinned against his lips.
"I'm the woman you always
dreamed about having."

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"Is that so?"
he purred back. When he slipped his hands inside her jeans and discovered she wasn't wearing panties either, his hips bucked and his mind shouted triumphantly,
Hell yeah!

It was a grim Tristan who walked back to the med camp with her. Whatever goodness they'd managed to soak in along with the sun's rays, he seemed to be losing it again, little by little with each step he took. Dara knew what he felt; she was in his mind almost constantly. He detested returning to the cage, but didn't trust himself outside of it anymore.

She'd have to break him of that.

They walked in silence and Dara loved how he kept her hand in his, even while he brooded over his dark fate. He wasn't even aware of it, as if she were an extension of him.

She loved that when she wriggled her fingers, about to slip her hand free, he got a look on his face as if it didn't make sense that she'd want to.

Dara just prevented herself from teasing him about it.

Back in front of the lab, someone had set up three chairs and a table laden with food. Amelia was just coming out, followed by an orderly toting a giant umbrella. They'd switched to first-name basis, coming to a mutual agreement that the intimate arrangement required for this particular experiment made titles somewhat redundant. She smiled at them, but it seemed a little too eager to be truly genuine. "I thought we could eat out here. I miss the sun."

"Fine by me," Dara said and snagged a seat in the shade.

Her pale skin didn't tan very well. She took up a fork and dug into her lunch right away. Apparently, sex in the grass made 260

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her hungry. She slanted a covert glance at Tristan to see if he'd caught that thought. His mouth twitched as he watched her eat and sipped his drink. His eyes said he wasn't hungry at all. Or, if he was, it wasn't for food. Dara shivered and flushed, ducking her head before Amelia could see.

"Do you like it?" Amelia asked her. "I had it made special.

Duck in orange sauce and mashed potatoes."

"Is it a French recipe?"

"I have no idea."

Dara sighed. "It tastes French." And by French she meant
good
. The meat all but fell off the bone with the sauce as a perfect, sweet backdrop for it, and the potatoes were just fabulous. It was fancy comfort food, accompanied by sweet iced tea and crunchy bread sticks with
real butter
! "If I ever get out of here," she said, "I'm going to rob the first store I come across, just so I can come back here."

Amelia laughed and Tristan grinned wide, clearly enjoying her delight a little too much. He still hadn't touched his plate.

"Eat," she told him.

"I'd like to, but there are too many people around."
Making a face for Amelia's benefit, he ate. "Not bad," he allowed after a couple of bites. An understatement, if the way he polished it all off was anything to go by. His portion had been the biggest, and because he'd barely eaten anything all day, Amelia had another plate brought out for him.

Dessert was a large crepe folded over a pile of fresh berries and smothered in the most amazing chocolate Dara had ever tasted. "Oh my God," she said around a mouthful.

"Where do you get this stuff?"

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