To Crave a Blood Moon (20 page)

At least my soul will be safe
. There was that to appreciate.

“You little fool.” His rage grew to a burning sear.

She hissed, the heat of it singeing her. She strained against his grip.

“You think I've come all this way to destroy you?”

“How likely is it we will find Gunter?” She shook
her head. “You said yourself that you kill lycans. Hunt them down like dogs. That's
what
you do.”

“But I wasn't talking about you!”

He shook her slightly, dark, glowing eyes scanning her face. “Is that what you think of me? You probably saved my life, my soul at least, in that dungeon. And you think I would just destroy you?”

She opened her mouth, trying to explain that was what she
felt
from him. Even now.
Rage. Conflict. Frustration
. Feelings so intense and frightening she had to run. What else could any of it mean except that he was torn by his duty to destroy her?

“I feel you,” she whispered. “I feel everything you feel.”

His expression turned stoic. “Is that a fact?”

“Yes.” He knew it. She had not forgotten the way he turned from her when she told him she was an empath. “It sucks, but it lets me know things.” She thrust out her chin. “Like how you feel about me.”

A shutter fell over his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Well, then you don't interpret emotions very well.”

She scowled. “Of course, I—”

“You might feel what I feel, but you don't understand what any of it means if you think I'm out to kill you,” he bit out.

She angled her head, watching him warily. “I feel your rage—”

He hauled her against his chest. “Maybe I'm furious at myself? Furious and filled with a killing rage for wanting this when I've already taken from you what I had no right to take?”

He kissed her then, his mouth hot, hungry and thorough, forcing her lips open for him. And like last time, his passion ran over.
Blistering lust
. Consuming her until she couldn't identify her feelings from his. They were one and the same. She tasted her own desire on his lips.

This was not the kiss of someone bent on killing her. That much she knew. She didn't know what he was to her anymore, but she knew right now that she needed this. Needed him.

He broke their kiss, his gaze scanning her face, heat erupting everywhere he looked.
Desire.
“No one is forcing us together right now. I've no excuse for doing this—”

“It wasn't force then,” she uttered with absolute conviction, her blood a desperate burn in her veins. “It isn't now.”

Tugging his head back down, she kissed him with all the dark need running rampant inside her.

Still kissing, they dropped to the ground, grass and twigs crackling beneath their bodies. Ruby had thought she wanted tenderness, wanted sweet, gentle lovemaking like she had fantasized about—before
she knew what desire really felt like. But this fever couldn't be slowed, couldn't follow an easy pace.

Muttering about the uncomfortable ground, he settled on his back and splayed her body over his. The night sang around them, heavy with locusts and the rustling of small animals in the thick undergrowth. Their lips never broke as their clothes dropped away. Her hands trailed over every inch of him, following the hard lines and ridges, seeing him perfectly in the dark.

A scar puckered the flesh of one shoulder. She hadn't noticed it before in the darkness of their prison. She traced it with one hand, following its winding path over his shoulder and descent down his back.

“I thought you regenerated.”

“That happened before I turned. An accident when I tried to clear the blades of a plow.” The rough rasp of his voice scraped the air. Goosebumps broke out over her flesh.

He caught her hand and brought it back to his chest. She felt the deep thud of his heart beneath her palm, beneath the smooth, supple texture of his skin.

He dark eyes gleamed. “I've never wanted a woman the way I want you.”

“I'm not a woman anymore,” she dared to remind, moistening her lips. “Not that I've ever been… normal, Sebastian. Even before…”

His lips twisted. “Are you trying to scare me off? Look who you're talking to. ‘Normal' isn't me.”

A heartbeat passed. The light at the centers of his eyes grew. Fire in the night. “Whatever you are, Ruby Deveraux, I want you. Not to hunt you. Or hurt you. But you. All of you.”

The ground and trees pulsed around them, humming, watching, listening.
I want you.
The words echoed in her head. It wasn't the tender love-making Ruby imagined for herself should she ever come together with a man again. Only he wasn't
just
a man. And she had already accepted how far from ordinary she was.

Their joining was just as wild and violent as the last time. Only this time, it couldn't be blamed on Sebastian. No dark animal hunger drove him, frightening her in its force.

Straddling him, she sank over him, kissing him deeply. Her hand delved between them, closing around his satin hardness. He swelled in her hand. Groaning in her mouth, his tongue tangled with
hers. She wiggled over him, teasing the head of him against her opening.

“Ruby,” he hissed, surging his hips upward and driving into her.

Her cry floated up to the trees. She arched her spine and ground down against him, seating herself fully, needing, craving closeness, to have him deeper.

The moon gleamed silver through the latticework of branches, watching, feeding her soul.

His hands lifted to her breasts, the callused pads of his palms rasping her tender flesh. Her nipples grew hard, sensitive, aching against his palms.

Ripples of pleasure eddied out from between her legs to every nerve ending in her body. His hands clasped her waist, lifting and lowering her over him. Again. And again. A deep moan built inside her throat at the drag of his flesh against her, inside her… at the hot flex of his hands on her breasts. Her head fell back as the torment grew, spiraling and twisting tighter and tighter between her legs.

Twigs and bramble caught in the ends of her hair trailing to the ground, but she couldn't care, couldn't stop quivering, trembling atop him as he drove into her. Harder. Faster. Deeper.

In the silvery glow of moonlight, she saw his face contort, blur in and out as the beast in him overcame the man. Only it didn't horrify her. She opened herself,
let her own demon beast take him deeper, take her farther, where the darkest of her cravings lurked.

She screamed his name, violent heat erupting through her as she burst. Her nails scored his shoulders until the faint fragrance of blood filled her nostrils.

Birds squawked and flew from their nests with shuddering wings at her savage cry, their sleep shattered. Half-blind with her orgasm, she watched them soar through the branches, dark smudges on the night. To her passion-blurred vision, it seemed they rose directly to the moon. The source of it all.

All her life she had fought emotions. The feelings of others. But in doing so, she had numbed herself to feeling her own heart.

Never had she lost herself like this. Lost herself to…
herself
. That gleaming moon brought out more than her feral nature. It brought out…
her
.

His release shuddered through her. She smoothed her palms over his shoulders, gentling her touch now that her blood pumped less fiercely. The slick skin of his body rippled and flexed under her hands. She felt his sense of gratification shared in it. He pulled back, his dark eyes with that flame writhing in the center gazed at her, looking at her. Seeing her. And she let him. For once, she didn't want to run, to hide.
Tenderness.

Rising, he pulled her to her feet and helped her
dress. Through the trees, the lights of Mr. Wilson's farmhouse flickered. She turned her back on it. Her hand in Sebastian's, they walked home together.

Sebastian woke with a languorous stretch, sated as a well-fed cat beneath the jungle sun. His hand felt beside him, finding that side of the bed bare, only the faint indentation on the pillow indicating Ruby had been there.

Lifting his head, his gaze swept the room, appreciating it in the light of day. It was feminine, the soft blue paint soothing, furniture well-worn, antiques. Mismatched pieces that worked well together in the room.

Throwing back the floral-patterned comforter, he rose from the bed and slid on his jeans, for once not worried over Ruby's whereabouts. He sensed her movements downstairs. Felt the steady pulse of her heart. Smelled the breakfast she cooked. Bacon. Eggs. Butter melting on warm toast.

His lips twisted as he made his way barefoot to the stairs, the old house's wood floor creaking beneath his feet. A cabinet shut in the kitchen below over the sound of faint humming. He shook his head. So domestic. He'd be lucky to find a box of crackers in any one of his flats.

He would not have imagined himself in such a
setting. With such a woman.
Not a woman,
a voice whispered in his head. A lycan. His smile slipped. Heaviness weighed his chest.
Yes, there was still that
.

The phone rang as he was halfway down the stairs. Ruby hurried from the kitchen, crossing in front of the stairs. He devoured the sight of her. The loose flow of her hair, a dark rich brown against her white blouse. She wore a loose skirt. Her feet were bare, the nails pink and shiny. Again, he was struck with the domesticity of it all. Of her. This house. A home, he realized with a jolt. The one thing he had never possessed. He'd come close those years with Rafe and his mother. Only it was hard to ever feel at home with a mother who stood over your bed with a knife in her hand. Suddenly, he better understood Ruby's need to come back here.

She spoke into one of those old rotary phones with the twisted cord.

“I know, I know… I was going to call you this morning…” A longer silence fell.

“Yes, I understand you, but I only got back yesterday.”

A certain thickness entered her voice. He took the last few steps. She looked up as he stopped beside her. Standing this close, he could smell the cinnamon and sugar on her. His stomach growled… and not just for food.

“Yes,” she murmured into the mouthpiece. “Fine. I'll be here. See you then.”

When she lifted the phone from her ear, he took it and returned it to its home.

They stared at one another for a long moment. His heart beat hard in his chest, filling his ears.

“Hi,” she murmured, her voice a soft little breath that touched something deep inside him.

Without responding, he gathered two fistfuls of her skirt, bunching the fabric at her waist, looking at her intensely, drinking the sight of her.

“What—” Her words died when he slipped a hand beneath the edge of her panties. Finding her wet, he played with her slick folds, gliding a finger against her opening.

“Oh, God,” she cried when he exerted more pressure, easing that finger inside her. She clung to him, her body familiar and achingly sweet, her nails scoring his biceps. He kissed her long and deep.

Unable to wait, he folded an arm around her waist and lifted her. She moved forward eagerly, wrapping her legs around him. He locked gazes with her as he worked open his zipper and freed himself, wondering if she felt what he was feeling right now.

He entered her with a hard thrust. Groaning, he claimed her lips, swallowing her small cries as he pumped between her trembling thighs.

It wasn't supposed to be like this. This good. This… everything. It never had been before.

Only she doesn't know that. You're her first. She probably thinks sex is this intense every time.

Part of him rebelled at that thought, wanting her to know that what they had was unparalleled, nothing she would ever find with another man. The other part of him knew it was for the best if she thought she could get this anywhere… with anyone. That way it wouldn't crush her when he moved on. As he naturally would.

The thought fueled him with fury, made him work in and out of her harder, his hand clutching her ass in a bloodless grip. The beast rose in him, intent on possessing her so that she would never forget this—
him
.

She clung to him, crying out her own release the moment before he reached his. He clutched her close, staggering a bit, shudders shaking him. Her legs still wrapped around him, he looked down into her flushed face, drowning in her probing gaze, unnerved at the knowledge that he could hide nothing from this woman. Even if her interpretation was sometimes off, she felt everything he felt.

Alarming. Terrifying. Because what he felt right now was that in this moment, in this room, with this woman… he had found what he never knew he wanted, but what he had been running toward all his life.

He cleared his throat. “I'm sorry. I had meant to start with a simple ‘good morning' when I came downstairs.”

A smile shook her lips.

“Did I hurt you?” He brushed a thumb against her cheek. She'd been hurt too many times since they first met. He didn't want to heap any more pain on her. She'd felt enough of that lately.

“You didn't hurt me.” Her smile deepened. “I've learned that I am quite resilient.”

Yes. Staring into her pewter eyes, he wondered how he could have forgotten that. Those were eyes he had hunted for as long as he could remember. Eyes he had watched fade to mortal shades following the death shots he delivered.

A sound emerged, low in the distance. “Someone's coming,” he growled.

Ruby slid her legs to the floor and darted to the front door, peering out through the curtains. “I don't see anyone—”

“Listen.” He tucked himself back in his jeans. “You'll see soon enough.”

She cocked her head to the side, gaze shifting, flitting about as she listened. “You're right. I hear a car.”

Several more moments passed. Sebastian moved to stand beside her. “Are you expecting anyone?”