Beauty Dates the Beast (16 page)

It was eerily silent, as well. Every sound I made, every step that crunched into the snow, was overly loud. I winced every time I stepped on something, knowing that it was messing Beau up, but he simply paced through the woods on silent feet, his cat-nostrils working quietly, his breath whuffing.

We walked through the dark woods for a long
time. My toes were icy, my fingers felt frozen, and the gun was ice-cold in my grip. The odd screams had stopped, replaced by a silence that was even creepier.

We’d seen the reddish orange lick of light from the window, and I assumed that was what we were heading for. Beau seemed to be leading us in a straight line, his steps slow and easy … until he suddenly dashed forward.

I raced to follow him, my feet crashing through the underbrush, curses stringing through my mind.

Beau had paused just ahead, and I followed after him like an awkward penguin. We stopped at a thick stand of trees, the moonlight peeking through the leaves overhead. The snow had been a thin blanket of white covering the ground, but here it was churned and dirty. At first I thought leaves were flung liberally through the snow, but the uneven splotches were too thick and too wet to be anything but blood. I swallowed hard.

Beau paced around the campsite, his nose to the ground, sniffing. His tail lashed angrily back and forth, and I kept a bit of a distance, gun in hand. Whatever had made those big bloody spots might come back.

Minutes later, Beau circled in on one spot, digging at the bloodied snow with a giant paw. He
lifted his head and looked at me, eyes gleaming greenish yellow in the darkness.

“What? You want me to come over there?”

One slow, deliberate blink. Then another.

Since he couldn’t talk to me, I’d assumed that was a yes. I trudged over warily. “What is it?”

He tapped his paw at something in the snow, looking for all the world like a cat batting at a toy. I couldn’t make out what it was on the ground, so I reached down with my bare hands. My fingers closed over something cool and slightly damp, cylindrical and kind of firm but spongy. “I’m going to beat you on the head if this is something gross, you realize that, right?”

His tail flicked against my leg and then he moved into the woods again.

I followed after him, mind churning. What had happened here? Some animal making a kill in the woods? Or a shapeshifter leaving a message for us?

We circled around in the woods for a good while longer, until I was no longer frightened and just weary as hell. I dragged behind Beau as he raced through the night snow, pausing to sniff the ground and circle back once again.

Nothing else attacked. Nothing else happened. It was quiet.
Too quiet
, as they liked to say in the movies.

We stumbled into a clearing and I blearily realized
that we’d somehow made it back to his house. “Thank God,” I said, and started forward.

Beau stopped in front of me, forcing me to pause. The cat looked up at me, flicking his tail in irritation. His head moved from side to side—was he shaking his head no at me?

“You want me to wait here?”

The deliberate double blink again. I sighed. “I’m going to assume that’s a yes,” I said, leaning against a nearby tree.

He nosed the hand holding the gun, his nose wet and cold. Then he disappeared into the house, tail flicking with agitation.

Right. He was reminding me to be alert. I lifted the gun and scanned my surroundings. If I saw anything, I was going to blow its head off.

Long minutes ticked by, and I glanced at the house, starting to get worried again. What was happening?

A shadow appeared in one of the windows and I sucked in a breath, pointing the gun toward it. But then Beau appeared, changed back to human form—naked again—and headed down the steps back to where I was hidden at the tree line. “Bathsheba, it’s safe to come inside now.”

I lowered the gun and went inside, studying my surroundings warily. Salt was all over the floor, covering the doorway. The only tracks I saw seemed to
be Beau’s. I turned to look at him. “What’s going on?” My teeth chattered as I spoke; I hadn’t realized I was that cold. Or that scared.

He shut the front door, locked and dead-bolted it, then helped me with my coat, oblivious to his own nakedness. “I think whatever has been stalking you followed us out here.”

I realized I was still clutching the gun and handed it to him.

“You might want to give me that as well,” he said, gesturing at my fist.

I uncurled my hand and nearly threw up. The spongy cylinder was a finger, damp with blood and shredded at one end. “Oh, God,” I said, my stomach heaving, and flung it at him.

Beau snatched the object in midair and dropped it on the counter, then steered me toward the sink so I could have a nice, long vomit. And I did.

When I was done, I wiped my mouth and took the glass of water he offered. I pointedly looked away from where the finger lay. “So who does that belong to?”

“It smells like shifter,” he said, grim. “Wolf.”

I stiffened, finding it suddenly hard to breathe. “W-wolf?”

Wolf was not good. Wolf was not good at all.

Beau sniffed the finger. “Smells like Cash’s
pack. Maybe Wade or one of his boys, if he’s back in town.”

“So what’s a werewolf’s finger doing on your property without the rest of him?” I said, gulping down water to try to calm my stomach. I knew what the wolf was doing around here.

He was looking for my sister.

But what had attacked the wolf prowling around the property?

“That is the question,” Beau said. He moved to wash my sick out of the sink. Once the water ran clear, he began to clean his own hands of dirt and blood.

Seeing him wash his hands made me painfully aware that mine were filthy as well, and I shared the tap and soap with him, scrubbing at my skin. “Did you smell anyone near the house?”

“No,” he said. “I only smelled you, me, and Arabella. Whoever was lurking around didn’t get close to the house.”

“So what do we do now? Call the police?”

“No. We wait for Ramsey to get here in the morning and see if he’s heard anything else or had any other strange experiences.”

I looked up at Beau, troubled. “You do realize I’m not going to be able to sleep for the rest of the night?”

“I’m sure we can think of something to do,” he said.

I raised an eyebrow at him.

He chuckled. “Come on. Even I know that the last thing on your mind is sex.” Beau leaned forward and pressed a comforting kiss on my forehead. “I’ll play cards with you, if you want.”

“All right.” I glanced down. “But you might want to put some pants on first.”

We played poker until three or four in the morning, both of us tense and edgy. It wasn’t fun, but trying to beat the other person took our minds off of things.

After we were done with the cards, I crawled onto the couch and lay down, and Beau let me rest my head on his knee as he played with my hair. I drifted off at some point, the soft sound of his purring in my dreams.

I
awoke to the sound of voices in the kitchen. Beau’s smooth tones were interspersed with an impossibly deep voice that had to belong to Ramsey. Still wiped out after last night, I dragged myself to my feet and shoved my hair back, hoping I didn’t look too ragged from lack of sleep.

As I approached the kitchen, I was disappointed to see that Sara wasn’t here. I was even more disappointed when both men stopped talking as soon as I entered. Rather annoying of them. They gave me polite nods. Ramsey was dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans—very lumberjack—and Beau wore his signature dark T-shirt. At least he was fully dressed.

“Sara?” I said by way of greeting. “Is she here?”

“Not here,” Ramsey said in a gruff voice. “Safe.”

Disappointment crashed through me, but I hid it
and pulled up a chair at the table. “All right,” I said, feeling rather awkward at the moment. “Savannah?”

“Still missing,” Beau said, his voice short.

Not the most cheerful of mornings, then. I managed a half smile. “Well, it’s nice to see you again, Ramsey, even if it’s under bad circumstances.”

Ramsey just stared at me.

Even Beau looked like something was sticking in his craw. Puzzled, I shoved my hair off my face and tried to finger-comb it a little. It was a puffy snarl around my face, a cloud of blond tangles. “Something wrong?”

Beau’s throat worked as he swallowed. Neither one of them said anything for a long moment, then Beau’s mouth turned tight-lipped. “Nothing. I was just briefing Ramsey on the situation last night.”

“Great,” I said, giving up on the finger-combing as my mind set to work. “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to hunt for some coffee.” It would be the perfect opportunity to listen in on their conversation and find out what they thought about things, all under the guise of being sleepy and careless.

I headed around the small island. There were several large boxes on the counter. I didn’t ask how Ramsey had gotten them here, though the mental image of a bear pushing a shopping cart through the forest was a funny one. I opened the first box, but Ramsey moved past me and pulled the box out
of my hands, then shoved a different box in my direction.

“Thanks,” I said, giving him a faint smile, determined not to let him scare me off. “I think.”

Beau stiffened and turned abruptly. “I’ll be outside chopping wood.” He slammed the door behind him as he left.

What the hell? I blinked. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Ramsey said, his voice curt.

I glanced out the window, then back at Ramsey, waiting for further explanation. None came. Well, all right then. “Are you … just going to stay here?”

He gave me a short nod.

I looked out the window again, back to Beau. “I’m guessing that he doesn’t want you leaving me alone?”

Another short nod, and Ramsey looked more and more uncomfortable, as if he hated having to converse. For some reason, that made me feel like laughing. Poor Sara, stuck with this surly man all week for company. “Well, if you’re here and you’re bored, you might as well help me unload.”

The big man moved across the kitchen and opened the box closest to him, setting to work without a word. It seemed odd that he would take orders from me. But if he considered me Beau’s woman, I guess it wasn’t that weird after all.

The sound of wood chopping rang outside. It sounded rather … frenzied. Obsessive. I frowned and glanced at the window again. “What’s bothering him?”

“Heat.”

I peeked out the window, watching Beau swing the axe with grim, relentless determination. “I realize you’re into the monosyllabic thing, but you’re going to have to give me a bit more than that.”

He continued to unload the boxes of goods, not looking at me as he responded. “You bother him. Your hair is messy with sleep. Your feet are bare. You wear his clothes. It … affects him.”

Oh. For some reason I hadn’t thought that the heat would do anything more than give him a boner. “Is he going to be like this all day?”

Ramsey gave me a level look. “You tell me.”

Oh. I blushed. Maybe I liked Ramsey better when he was silent. “Er, how long does this heat thing last?”

“ ’Bout twenty-four hours.”

Good Lord. I tried to imagine being in the bedroom with Beau for twenty-four hours, but my virgin-mind (despite all the dirty books and Cinemax I’d watched) couldn’t quite wrap around it. “Oh.”

He gave me a grave look. “Someone will be watching over the cabin while you are occupied.”

“I … oh. That’s nice,” I said faintly. So strangers
were going to be wandering around outside, knowing that Beau and I were shagging like minks inside? Oh, the embarrassment. “And Sara?”

“She is fine.”

“She is,” I agreed. “But is someone going to be watching over her? At all times?” The whole situation felt very surreal, unloading groceries while scary things prowled the forests.

Ramsey’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at me. “I will keep her safe.”

Looking at the massive man, I had no doubts of that. I nodded.

Chop chop chopchopchop—Beau was attacking that wood. I imagined his body covered in sweat, muscles rippling, and felt the sudden urge to fan myself. Instead, I kept unpacking, reaching for the next box and pulling out the contents.

He’d bought enough groceries to feed a small army. In with the staples—rice, beans, canned meat, peanut butter—I found … lubricant? I dropped it as if stung and stared down into the box. Accompanying the industrial-sized bottle of lube were three extra-large boxes of condoms and what seemed to be a gallon of massage oil. Good Lord. How much sex did Ramsey think we were going to have?

I shut the box hastily and pushed it aside.

By the time everything else had been unpacked,
I figured our woodpile was the size of a beaver dam.

The coffee had finished brewing and I poured myself a cup, dousing it with enough sugar and cream to make a cake. “You sure Beau is all right?” I looked out the window. “He just seems very …” Angry? Jealous? Miserable? “Unhappy,” I finished.

Ramsey shoved a baseball cap on his head, as if he was preparing to leave. “Heat,” he said again, his expression not concerned in the slightest.

“Ah.” Well, if it was normal for him to be this hormonal, I’d stop worrying. “Thank you, Ramsey. I appreciate it.”

Ramsey paused at the door, as if warring between the idea of staying and going. After a moment, he sighed, then glanced back at me. “Beau is our leader … similar to a wolf alpha. His natural instinct at the moment is to compete and dominate. Right now he is trying very hard not to come in here and attack me for being near you.”

I wasn’t sure which was more disturbing—the fact that Ramsey had used so many words at once, or what he was actually saying. I forced a tight smile to my face. “Thanks for the advice. And you’re positive I’m safe with him?”

Ramsey gave a jerky nod, then sighed again when I continued to stare at him expectantly, as if it was bothersome to humor a human. “You are
safer with him than anyone else, Bathsheba. He will not let you come to harm from anyone—certainly not himself.”