Indigo Moon (14 page)

“I mean it’s more than just giving a few drifter kids seasonal work. You’ve got some sort of project going on here. What’s going on? These kids seem…vulnerable. Damaged even.”

“Damaged?” Ren halted. She stood stock-still, waiting for Isabelle to clarify.

“Yes. Emotionally damaged.” Isabelle was not going to be shy with her answer. “They all crave love and attention. And they all adore you. I mean, look at Noah, or Patrick even. They’re both so insecure in themselves and struggle so hard not to show it. And Jenna, she tries her hardest to please. Joey would do anything for anyone who had a kind word for him. And as for Mouse, she’s just begging for love and cuddles.”

Ren’s shoulders sagged and she continued her uphill path.

“What’s wrong?” Isabelle followed, concerned at Ren’s dejection. “I didn’t mean to be hurtful. Ren?” But Ren was striding ahead.

“Ren?” Isabelle grabbed her by the arm to slow her down. “Stop speeding away and talk to me. What did I say that upset you?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s hardly nothing.”

Ren turned to face her. “It’s just that I can’t do those things.”

“What things?”

“The things that make it all right. That take away the insecurities and give reassurance and…cuddles.”

“Anybody can cuddle.”

“I can’t tell them it will be all right because I don’t know that myself.”

“Know what will be all right?”

Ren shrugged impatiently and moved away again “I don’t know. Life. The future. Everything.”

“Nobody knows those things.”

“I should. I should be able to help them more.” She strode off, leaving Isabelle to chase after her.

“I think you’re beating yourself up here. This valley, this home you’ve made.” Isabelle waved at the outbuildings on the slope below them. “Even the seasonal work you supply, these are the
beginnings
of security, the start of a future. I don’t know where these kids have come from, or the stories each one carries. But I do know this is a safe place for them, and you made it that way.”

Ren hesitated and looked at the buildings and the valley beyond. Another howl wavered out from the far side of valley, an empty, forlorn cry.

“Maybe,” she said, but her words sounded flat, as if she had no faith in them. “But it’s not enough. It’s never enough.”

“Never enough what?”

“Everything. Money, hope, work…everything. We’re running out of time. The kids are ill. I can’t help them all—It doesn’t matter. I shouldn’t be dumping all this on you. You have enough to contend with.” Ren swung away, seemingly determined to put distance between herself and the conversation.

“Well, they have some work lined up for the hatchery.
And
a roof over their heads,
and
food in their bellies. That’s a good start. In fact, it’s a great start.” Isabelle was damned if she’d let Ren wallow in misguided self-pity, no matter how good moodiness looked on her. As an outsider she had fresh eyes and could see this setup for what it was. It upset her that Ren should be so negative about all she had accomplished.

“And starting is always the hardest part, so what comes next should be easy.” She continued her encouragement.

“What? What comes next?” Ren stopped dead, sounding alarmed.

“This comes next.” Isabelle stepped in and wrapped her arms around Ren’s waist and hugged her.

Ren’s long body froze ramrod stiff in her arms, but Isabelle refused to be fazed and tightened her hold. Her ear was pressed against a rapid heartbeat and her head swam with the heat pounding off Ren’s body in time with her heart’s rhythm.

Isabelle closed her eyes and was lost in the hot scent of Ren’s hair, skin, clothes. She squeezed tight and was rewarded by a low growl reverberating in the chest beneath her ear. It ran on and on like an engine purring, until the long muscles of Ren’s back at last relaxed and their bodies melted together. Isabelle felt giddy, greedy for the connection. Ren’s arms wrapped loosely around her in an awkward return hug. It added a million times to Isabelle’s bliss. She could have stood there forever, simply holding Ren, listening to that deep rumble from somewhere close by her heart.

“See. You do know how to cuddle,” she whispered.

Reluctantly, she pried herself away and gave Ren’s arm a half-hearted, platonic pat. Isabelle stepped back on slightly wobbly legs and tried to regain some composure.

“You’re lying to yourself about those kids, Ren,” she said, taking the lead on the cabin track. “They’re happy here. They’ve found a home. And you’re one good human being.”

Isabelle scuffed along the hallway in the oversized sweats and socks Ren had left out for her as sleepwear. She didn’t care that she could wrap the top around herself twice, it was cuddly and warm, and the cabin was chilly.

Isabelle wondered how long Ren would stay with her this evening, if she would head out to tend to her mysterious veterinary patients. No matter what Ren chose to do, Isabelle was going to light the fire and curl up on the couch with a good book and a glass of wine. It would have been nice to have Ren’s company, but she didn’t expect it. Ren was elusive. They’d have to talk about Isabelle leaving the valley, and soon. She hoped to be on the next plane out.

She headed for the bathroom and pushed open the unlocked door before registering the splash of running water. Ren stood under the shower, water cascading down her lean, tan body. Isabelle stopped, unable to either enter or withdraw.

In her mind, she played out the logical, social conclusion to the scenario before her. She’d say, “Oh, pardon me. I didn’t know you were in here,” and would turn around and leave. Or perhaps Ren would turn off the faucet and pull a towel around her, and say, “It’s okay. I’m done anyway,” and she would leave, with a cheery smile. Isabelle’s barging in on her would be a silly, embarrassing moment…nothing they couldn’t deal with.

Instead, Isabelle was rooted to the spot watching soapy water run down Ren’s long legs. Her body was powerful and muscular. Her hair was plastered to her back and shoulders, and several jagged scars showed through the wet tendrils. Proprietary lust shot through Isabelle, increasing her heart rate. It knotted her stomach and made her tongue tingle and her jaw tighten.

Ren turned and smiled, totally at ease.

“Are you joining me?” she said with a teasing glint in her eye.

“Uh…” Isabelle’s cheeks burned. Her feet were cemented to the bathroom floor, while her brain struggled for words of apology for her intrusion.

Ren turned off the faucet and stepped from the stall. Dripping water, she walked naked across the bathroom floor and slid past Isabelle, making sure their shoulders bumped.

“It’s okay. I’m done anyway,” she said, and with a sly, crooked smile, she left.

“Uh…” Isabelle mumbled at the steamed-filled room.

Her body was still buzzing when she returned to the living room to light the fire. She cursed her stupidity in the bathroom, and then cursed Ren for teasing her. She hated the emotional vulnerability she felt around Ren. It seemed to permeate every layer of her existence…well, as much as she knew of it.

Ren had rescued her, nursed her through a serious injury. Alluded to a caring relationship that Isabelle could not remember but sort of felt. And how could she deny the sexual tension that had coiled in her gut from that possessive first kiss to her practically slavering over the woman while she showered? Isabelle’s face flamed.

She knelt by the fireplace, glad of a chore to take her mind off her salacious and highly inappropriate thoughts. It would take a little while, but she would soon have the cabin snug and cozy and make it a perfect little haven for her to while away another lonely evening.

She raked out the dead fire embers. Ren had done a very poor job of cleaning the hearth.

“I’m surprised she ever gets a fire to light if this is her idea of clearing out the ash,” she muttered.

She hesitated. Wedged behind a charred log, in the far corner of the grate, lay the book Patrick had burned last night. Isabelle could just make out the word “Toyota” on the melted plastic cover. These were car papers. She reached for the booklet. Its innards fell away from the twisted plastic. They were badly scorched and unreadable. A few pages came away and clung to her fingertips like filmy cobwebs, the ink a spider’s scrawl.
Her
car papers! It had to be. Burned last night before her very eyes. What the hell was going on?

Her hands came away blackened with ash and she remembered Ren’s sooty fingerprints all over the kitchen this morning. Ren hadn’t been cleaning the fireplace; she’d been rummaging among these burned remains. What had she been up to? Checking that the book was properly destroyed? Isabelle seethed at the deceit.
How dare she destroy my stuff?

The door opened and Ren walked in, dressed in old sweats, her damp hair clinging to her shoulders. The pages in Isabelle’s hand exploded to dust in the draft of air that followed her. Isabelle looked at the ashy fragments in disbelief. She couldn’t believe it; all the evidence was gone before she’d had a chance to examine it.

“Hey. I was going to light the fire for us.” Ren squatted on her heels beside her. She began to gather up kindling. “Look at your hands. They’re black with soot. Go wash and let me finish this.”

Isabelle stared at her.

“Why was Patrick burning my car papers?” she said.

“What?” Ren’s whole posture stiffened, though she still bundled kindling into the fire grate as if nothing untoward was happening.

“He burned my car documents last night. Right before my eyes, like I was some kind of idiot. And you told him to. I heard you just before I came into the room. You told him to burn them, and he did.” She could feel fury frothing up inside her. She had been trying so hard to piece together what little she knew. Running all over the place like a fool looking for clues, when all along they had been burning them right in front of her. How they must have laughed.

Ren looked from Isabelle’s soot-black hands to the ashes in the hearth. She continued assembling the fire, her actions automatic, her face a mask.

“Your car papers?” She tossed a match into the grate. The paper and kindling caught with a whoosh, the fire glow bathed her features and blazed across her eyes.

“
My
documents. Mine!” Isabelle gave Ren a mighty shove and sent her rolling off her haunches and onto her backside on the floor. Ren growled and twisted back up, but Isabelle launched herself at her, throwing them both back onto the floor.

“You bastard, you burned them.” She boiled over with rage, even as part of her looked on from afar, aghast at this loss of control. Ren’s arms wrapped round her, easily pinning her to her chest. “You played me for a fool.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ren said, unperturbed.

“You said burn it and he did.” Isabelle tried to work herself free. She regretted her outburst now and wanted distance. Ren’s closeness made her even more agitated.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ren said again. “I didn’t tell him to burn your papers.” Her attempts at reasoning only made Isabelle more determined to get away. “Stay still. Isabelle, stop fighting me.”

It was too much for Isabelle. She couldn’t corral or control this violent emotion. It shrieked through her like a banshee, rattling every bone in her body. Ren’s scent swamped her, seductive and dangerous. The heat of her body pulsed through their clothes, more urgent than when they had curled in bed together naked. Isabelle hissed in frustration at being thwarted yet again. How was she to ever know who she was if they kept hiding things, and burning things, and not answering her questions?

The neck of Ren’s shirt pulled open, revealing her strong column of throat and the muscular sweep from her collarbone to her breastbone. Her skin was tanned, the rise of her chest lacerated with small raised scars.

Isabelle struggled futilely against the arms around her. Her nose burrowed in the scented heat of Ren’s chest. Her mouth brushed the mesh of scars and her lips tingled. Saliva flooded her mouth. She bared her teeth and grazed along Ren’s skin. The chest muscles twitched and bunched at her touch. Ren smelled of forest ferns after rainfall, earthy and rich. She smelled of sunlight on warm fur, and spring glades carpeted with salmonberry and Indian plum.

Isabelle buried her face deeper, soaking up the scent. She licked the skin stretched tight across Ren’s sternum. And then she bit. She bit down hard, lathering the captured skin with her tongue and growling deep in her throat like an animal.

Ren bucked beneath her, then lay still, her hold slackening. Isabelle worried at the skin and sucked hard, her initial growl becoming a contented rumble. She was fully focused in marking the flesh, in claiming these old scars and all that history for herself. Ren’s skin was plump and hot with a salty sheen. The taste exploded in her mouth.

Ren eased her hold and ran her hands down the curve of Isabelle’s back.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked quietly. Her hands rested on Isabelle’s hips, as if undecided whether to hold on to her or toss her aside at any moment.

Isabelle reluctantly surrendered her mouthful of flesh. She didn’t know what she was doing. She kept her head lowered, her eyes fixed on the redness spreading across Ren’s chest. Her spittle covered the indents of her teeth marks. A bruise was already beginning to form. She panted lightly with a mixture of shame and delirious excitement. Her face reddened until it burned painfully. She had bitten Ren…actually
bitten
her.
God, I must have rabies or something.
She was a sad, sick woman.