Beneath a Darkening Moon (18 page)

But could she really do it? Move past all he’d meant to her and just get on with her life?

She didn’t know. But maybe it was time to at least find out. If Cade’s arrival had shown her one thing, it was the fact that she could no longer drift along. She loved her job, but her job was not enough.

She wanted what Neva had. A man who loved her. A man to share the ups and downs of life with, to have children with.

But are you ready to fight for that?
Neva asked softly.
Like you forced me to fight for it?

Savannah frowned.
What do you mean?

You once loved Cade. Perhaps you still do. What if the reason you haven’t moved on is the fact that your heart doesn’t want to? What if Cade is the one?

He doesn’t love me, Neva. He never did. I was just a means to an end
.

That’s not what I asked
.

No.
She paused.
And I guess the answer is, I don’t know
.

Then you’d better start deciding before he walks out of your life for a second time
.

He didn’t walk out on me the first time
.

You know what I mean
.

Yes
. And she hated it when her sister was right. Neva’s amusement swam through her mind again, and Savannah smiled reluctantly.
Gotta go do some work. I’ll talk to you tomorrow
.

After you talk to Mom and Dad
.

Duncan’s right. Marriage has turned you into a nag
. Savannah broke the connection between them in the midst of her twin’s laughter and strode toward the front steps, although, after ten years of
not
wearing five-inch spike heels, it took a lot of concentration not to fall flat on her face.

The heels tapped against the concrete as she climbed the steps—a soft tattoo that seemed to carry easily over the thump of the music. The security guard near the door leisurely looked her up and down, and a wide grin split his lips.

“Ain’t seen you here before, darling,” he said, his voice as deep as his gaze was appreciative.

A warm flush of satisfaction swept through her. In that moment, she felt both extremely feminine and
utterly sexual, neither of which she’d felt since leaving Rosehall.

And that made her angry—at herself, more than anything. Damn it, she
was
a woman—a sexual, sensual woman—and she occasionally
deserved
to be the object of lust. Yet that was something the ranger part of her never had been, not in all the long years she’d been back in Ripple Creek. And it was a sad indictment of how badly she’d been burned by Cade that she’d let such a vital part of her be buried for so long.

Still, better late than never. And if Kel’s brother didn’t recognize her in this outfit—an outfit Nelle had once labeled “the erotic biker”—no one would. Hell, she’d gone to school with Tane, had actually had a major crush on him between ninth and tenth grades, and had kissed him more than once in eleventh. A flirt? Oh yeah, she had been a flirt back then, as Ronan could attest.

With a grin tugging her lips, she exaggerated the swing of her hips as she sashayed toward Tane. The chains dangling from her skirt chimed in time with the rap of her stilettos, and the cool breeze caressed the parts of her bare legs and stomach not covered by her long leather coat. Given how little she was really wearing, she should have been freezing, but she wasn’t. The exhilaration of strutting her stuff again was more than enough to keep her warm.

“You may not see me again,” she purred as she neared him, “so enjoy the experience while you can.”

“Oh, I am.” He chuckled softly as he opened the door. “Enjoy your night, miss.”

“Clara,” she said. “And thank you.”

He nodded, his gaze lingering, causing a heat she
could feel way down to her toes as she walked into the semidarkness of the nightclub. Even though there was only one man she wanted, that didn’t stop her enjoying the attention of—

She stopped short. Cade might be the only man she could have right now, but he certainly wasn’t the only man she wanted, because he didn’t want what
she
wanted.

But what if he did?

No; she pushed the thought from her mind. Why entertain the idea when it was never going to happen?

She paid her entrance fee and handed over her coat. Then she moved to the shadow-filled corner between the cashier and the long black, steel, and chrome bar that dominated the left side of the room. The air was thick with the scent of desire, sending an ache of anticipation through her. She wondered if Cade was here yet. Wondered if she’d recognize him—or if he’d recognize her.

The heavy beat of the music was louder inside, and when combined with the frantic pulsing of the multicolored lighting, it had an almost hypnotic effect. She found herself tapping her foot despite the fact she normally hated techno.

There was a good crowd tonight, too. The dance floor was packed, and they were standing three deep at the bar. She saw several people she recognized, and a few teenagers who certainly didn’t meet the eighteen-year-old entry requirement. Still, given her own experiences, she wasn’t about to make a fuss. Especially not tonight.

At the end of the long room were the heavy paneled doors that led into the moon dance room. Two
security guards were stationed there, and she knew their job was to check IDs and ensure that no alcohol was taken into the smaller dance room. She also knew that the ID check wasn’t as well enforced as her father would have wanted.

She looked upstairs, checking the balcony that ran around the room. Shadows moved in the darkness above, some obviously doing more than just dancing to the techno beat. Others leaned on the railing, either catching the action in the shadows or watching those on the dance floor. She couldn’t see Denny upstairs, so maybe he was among the gyrating mass on the dance floor.

She walked along the bar side of the room, so close to the moving mass of men and women that the air felt like liquid heat, and the musk of desire was so sharp that it fueled the fires of her own need.

Yet she couldn’t sate those needs, not even when she found Cade. They were here to catch the woman who’d paid Denny to leave the note, and nothing more.

She found Denny at the back of the room, to the right of the entrance to the moon room. He was dancing with a spike-haired wolf who seemed to have more piercings than Savannah had toes and fingers, and who looked at least ten years older than Denny. Like most of the dancers, they seemed to be ruled by the music, their bodies moving in sync with the frantic rhythm rather than each other. She continued on, trying to find Cade, but she didn’t see anyone vaguely resembling him on this level. She turned around and headed for the nearby stairs. It would be easier to
keep an eye on Denny from above, and she might be able to spot Cade from there, too.

The shadows closed in around her as she climbed, and the air became so cloying tiny beads of perspiration broke out across her skin. She grabbed a coaster off a nearby table and lightly fanned herself. Her scalp itched, and it was all she could do not to rip off the short black wig. She leaned a hip against the balustrade and scanned the shadows. Couples sat at the various tables or were pressed against the walls, talking and drinking and loving. None of the women were blond or big-breasted, and none of the men matched Cade’s height or build.

Relief rolled through her. In truth, she had no more desire to share him with others than he had to share her—which was odd, because she’d had no such concerns at Rosehall. But then, he never did dance with anyone else but her. She’d been the one dancing with others—at least until they’d made the moon promise. And even then, she’d still danced with Jontee. Which Cade had wanted, because all he had needed was Jontee. Not her.

And certainly not a declaration of love.

Hell, he couldn’t even remember her saying it, though she could easily guess why. He’d been too busy getting ready to invade her mind.

She blew out a breath, lifting the silky black hair away from her forehead. Glancing down to check that Denny was still dancing, she pushed away from the balustrade and moved along the walkway.

A big man walked toward her, his red hair catching the flicker of the lights and gleaming like fire in the shadows. She let her gaze drift over him, taking in
the gleam of his silver eyes as he scanned the shadows, the oh-so-kissable lushness of his mouth, the way his leather jacket emphasized the width of his shoulders and the strength of his arms, while his faded jeans paid homage to the long, lean strength of his legs. He moved with such effortless grace that he could have been walking on air …

She blinked.

He walked like
Cade
.

Her gaze shot upward. Aside from the gray eyes, it was Cade’s face. The bruise darkening his chin was evidence of that, if nothing else.

A smile tugged at her lips. Would he recognize her? There was only one way to find out. She strolled toward him, accentuating the swing of her hips, watching his expression, waiting for the moment of awareness. His gaze briefly scanned her and moved on. Then he did a double take, and a grin split his lips.

“Well, well,” he said, stopping so close the heat of his body surged over her in a wave. He wrapped a hand around her waist and drew her closer. “Don’t you look luscious.”

“So do you,” she purred, running her hands down his leather-clad arms and enjoying the press of his hard body against hers. “And I do like the contacts. I always did like a man with silver eyes.” Not to mention leather. Too bad he was wearing jeans. As good as he looked in them, just the thought of leather pants sent her pulse running. There was something very sensual about running a hand over a leather-clad butt.

The muscles under her fingertips tightened so suddenly that it felt as if she were caressing steel. She
glanced up in time to see the amusement fade from his expression.

“You found Denny yet?”

His voice was clipped with annoyance, and she frowned. “He’s downstairs, dancing with a spike-haired wolf.” She hesitated, then added, “Why the attitude?”

“We’d better find someplace to watch from.”

She nodded toward the balustrade. “We can do it from there.”

His hand slid from her waist to her arm, and his grip was a little too tight as he propelled her forward. “Let’s get over there, then.”

She pulled her arm from his grip and stopped. “I asked you a question. Answer it first.”

He continued on to the balustrade. “How many wolves do you know with silver eyes?”

She stared at his back, more than a little perplexed. “What?”

“So you weren’t thinking about Ronan when you said that?”

She laughed. She couldn’t help it. He was
jealous
. He had to be. Why else would he make a comment like that? “Ronan was the last wolf on my mind, believe me.”

He gave her a withering look. “We’re here to work, so let’s concentrate on that.”

“I’d much rather talk about your reaction.”

A grunt was his only reply. How was she supposed to interpret something like that? God, for a man who was so damn willing to throw opinions around, he was mighty closemouthed when it came to anything personal.

Still, she leaned on the railing beside him, close enough that the heat of his body caressed her skin, yet not close enough that they touched. Despite her earlier resolution, despite the doubts she’d expressed to her sister only moments before, she really wasn’t sure
what
she wanted anymore. Even when she wasn’t with Cade, he filled her thoughts. But wasn’t that a natural consequence of the way they’d ended their relationship and what still lay unresolved between them?

Maybe.

And maybe not.

Maybe she still cared for him more than she wanted to admit. But was she willing to risk the utter devastation of realizing he didn’t love her a second time? Especially since his actions certainly indicated he was enamored with nothing more than the power of their lovemaking?

I don’t know,
she thought.
I just don’t know
.

But one thing she was sure of. They couldn’t stand here like statues, and if they weren’t going to make out, they might as well discuss the past. And better here, where her emotions had to be restrained.

Frowning at her cowardice, she glanced down to check that Denny was still where she’d left him, then said, “We need to talk.”

“About what?”

Cade wasn’t looking at her, but scanning the crowd below. His stance was casual, yet tension touched the corners of his eyes and rode his shoulders. Residual anger over her comment, she thought, rather than any real concern about what she wanted to say.

She took a deep breath, gathering her courage.
“About Rosehall. About what happened between us.”

He glanced at her briefly, his expression closed, giving no hint as to what he might be thinking or feeling. “What’s there to talk about? We both know what happened.”

“Maybe. But we’ve never talked about how it affected us.”

“It was a long time ago. Why dredge it up now?”

“Because, in one way or another, that past is still affecting us both.”

“The only effect it’s having on me is that you’re mine, and only mine, until I say otherwise.” He gave her a territorial grin. “And you had better believe that, this time, I will defend that right.”

She raised her eyebrows at the anger so evident in his words. “Did you hate sharing me with Jontee that much?”

“Yes.”

“But wasn’t that why you chose me? Because I was sharing Jontee’s bed?”

He looked away. “Yes.” But his answer came out clipped, as if she were tearing the word from his lips.

“Then your anger makes no sense.”

“We shared a moon promise, damn it!”

“A moon promise that named Jontee as the exception.”

“Yes.” His voice was a growl.

She stared at him for a moment, then said, “If I didn’t know you better, I’d say that you were jealous of Jontee.”

He gave her a look that could only be described as glacial. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Amusement, and perhaps just a touch of elation, ran through her. Maybe the emotional side of their relationship wasn’t as one-sided as she’d thought. She turned to face him, propping her hip against the railing. “You
were
jealous.” Then
and
now.