Blue Moon (30 page)

Months in Jean-Claude's bed, and I still wanted Richard.
I
wanted Richard, not Raina, not munin.
I
wanted him. I wanted him so badly I couldn't think about anything but the feel of him in my arms. But it wasn't fair, not like this. Not with Raina riding me.

She poured over me like a warm bath. This was her price. This. That she be here with us for the first time. That even this would always be part hers. My skin ached to be touched. My body hurt with a need I'd never known.

When the door closed behind them, Richard pulled me away from his body. He held me away from him with his hands on my forearms while I struggled to get closer. I needed him. Needed him.

I reached for him, crying, “Richard, please, please.”

He spun me around until I fell against the foot of the bed. He put a hand in the middle of my back, keeping me turned away from him. He slipped the shoulder straps of the spine sheath off, sliding them down my arms. He threw the sheath across the room to bang into the wall. Then he leaned over me, a hand on either side of the bed. He leaned his face over until his hair brushed my face. He molded his body against mine, arms wrapping my arms against my chest. He held me with his body and his arms, pressing us so close I could feel his heart beating against my back.

He whispered against my cheek. “If at any time you want to stop, say so, and it's over. I'll go.”

I made a small sound very like a whimper, and said, “Fuck me, Richard, fuck me, please.”

A shudder ran through his body from toes to head, and his breath fell out in a long sigh. He pulled back enough to undo the back of my bra, then he slid it slowly off my shoulders. He used the bra straps to lower my arms to my sides again. He pushed the bra off my arms, and it fell to the floor.

His hands slid over my waist. His hands felt hot. He slid upward slowly, so slowly that I wanted to cry out. His hands
spilled over my breasts, cupping them, kneading them. His fingers rolled my nipples, and I did cry out.

He turned me to face him, almost throwing me against the bed. His arms locked under my buttocks, and he lifted me, still on his knees. His mouth found my breasts. His tongue flicked across my nipple, fast, quick, wet.

I leaned into him, and his mouth slid over my breast, sucking it. The feel of his mouth on me was almost too intense. It made me want to cry out, to squirm, to say stop, and never stop. I made a small sound like a sob as he released my breast in one long pull so that the nipple stretched between his teeth. He moved to the other breast, harsher this time, using more teeth. He bit gently around the soft tissue of my breast, then licked the nipple, rolling it with his tongue. He gave one quick bite that hurt, and I was suddenly on the floor looking up.

He knelt over me and put his hands into the tears in his T-shirt and ripped it open, exposing the hardness of his chest, his arms. There were two slashing claw wounds, one high and one low. The high one had gone over his nipple, and blood had dried on the tip of it.

I sat up and reached for him. He didn't stop me. I ran my tongue over his chest, over the wounds, and he gasped. I licked a quick tongue over the bloody nipple, and when he didn't chase me away, I locked my mouth around it and fed. I sucked the wound clean, pulling hard enough that I reopened the wound.

It was his turn to cry out. He pushed me back to the floor, gently. He took off my shoes and socks, and I let him. My heart was beating so fast it hurt, pounding in my throat like a trapped thing.

His hands went to the tops of my jeans. When the top button went, it made my stomach jerk. He unzipped my pants and started sliding them down my hips. I helped him push the drying cloth down my legs. He pulled the jeans off in one last motion, and I was left lying, wearing nothing but the black panties that had matched the bra.

He was on his knees, staring down at me. His hands went to his own jeans, unsnapping them. He hesitated. “I've wanted this for so long, Anita. Wanted you like this, but not . . .”

As much as Raina and I hated each other, her essence and I had a moment of perfect understanding. I went to him, kneeling.
“Oh, no, you don't. Don't go all Boy Scout on me now.” My hands finished unzipping his pants.

He caught my hands, eyes searching my face. “It's you again.”

“Yes,” I said, “it's me.” I pulled my hands out of his, and he let me. “Undress for me, Richard; let me see you naked.”

“You've seen me naked before,” he said softly.

“Not like this,” I said. “No stopping, no questions.”

He stood up. “This will change everything for me, Anita. It has to change some things for you, too.”

I covered my eyes with my hands and gave a little scream. “Oh, for God's sake, Richard, stop talking. I want your hands on my body. I want you inside me so badly I can't think. How can you stand there and be reasonable?”

Something fell across my hands and face. It was his jeans and underwear. I sat up and found Richard naked. I just looked at him. The perfect golden brown of his skin was uninterrupted from the curve of his calves to the narrowness of his hips, the swelling of his groin, the flat hardness of his chest, and the sweep of his shoulders. His hair fell across one side of his face in a golden brown mass that left half his face in shadow.

I stood and walked towards him. I was scared. Nervous didn't cover it. Scared and eager. I put my hands on his chest and rose on tiptoe to offer him my lips. We kissed, and the movement made my body fall full against his. The feel of him hard and naked with nothing between us but the black lace panties made me shudder and fall back from the kiss.

His hands caught me around the waist and kept us pressed together. Then he was suddenly on his knees, hands pulling down my panties in a motion so quick, it was violent. I was suddenly naked, with him kneeling in front of me, staring up. There was a look in his eyes that made things all over my body tighten.

He put his large hands on the insides of my thighs and spread my legs. He slid his hands along my thighs until they cupped my buttocks, bringing my groin against his face. He laid his cheek against me, licking a quick line along my hip. My heart was beating so hard, I couldn't get a good breath, but I could talk. “Please, Richard, please. Please.”

He slid one hand between my thighs. One finger slid inside me. I shuddered, head back, eyes closed.

“You're wet,” he said.

I opened my eyes and stared down at him. “I know.” My voice sounded breathy.

“Raina was like that.”

“She still is,” I said. “Make her go away.”

He licked the inside of my thigh, forcing me to spread my legs just by licking, nuzzling his mouth against my skin. The first touch of his tongue between my legs made me gasp.

He kissed me there like he'd kissed my mouth, all tongue and exploring. He licked me in long, sure strokes, then he found just the right spot and sucked. I could see his eyes staring up at me while he did it. There was a dark light in his eyes, something more primitive than we have words for. It had nothing to do with being a werewolf and everything to do with being a man. It was waves pulsing along my body. The sensations were overwhelming. It felt so good it was almost too much, a pleasure so great it was almost pain. He pulled me into his mouth until the warmth spread from my groin upward in a golden rush that left the world hazy and edged with white gauze like I was seeing through a mist. With the last drop of pleasure, I felt Raina leave. The munin was gone when he lowered me to the floor.

His mouth was glistening. He used the remains of his shirt to wipe his mouth. He said, “I could always go brush my teeth.”

I just shook my head. “Don't you dare.” I held my arms out to him.

“Is she gone?” he asked.

I nodded. “Just me, just us.”

“Good,” he said. He moved over me and laid his naked body the length of mine. He was too tall for missionary position. I'd have suffocated against his chest. He propped himself up on his arms in a sort of push-up position. He slid inside me, and it was tight and wet and I could feel every inch of him working its way inside of me. When he was sheathed inside of me, he stared down at me. His eyes had gone that startling amber of a wolf. They were almost orange gold in the tan of his face.

He worked in and out, once, twice, three times, gently, as if making room. Then his hips caught the rhythmn. I slid my hands to his buttocks until I could cup them while he pushed himself inside me. I dug my fingernails into the smooth hardness of his flesh. He pumped faster, harder, still holding most of his weight on his arms and shoulders.

I raised my hips to meet his body. Without his body trapping me under him, I could move. A rhythm began between us, a wave of movement and heat and muscles moving together.

Something opened inside of me, inside of him. I felt the mark that bound us open like a door. What fell through that door was a warm, golden, rush of power. It spilled over me, into me. It raised every hair on my body as if it were an electric current.

Richard lifted me in his arms, still sheathed inside me. He half-carried me, half-flung me to the bed. He collapsed on top of me, and I was lost under the warmth of his skin and the weight of his chest. It was as if his power rode my skin; every thrust sent a line of warmth pouring inside of me. It was as if I were bathing in the golden warmth of his body inside and out. It grew in golden pulses with every thrust. The pulses turned to waves that made my body tighten around him.

He cried out, but didn't come. He raised back up on his arms, only his hips and legs pinning me to the bed. His eyes were still amber, still not human, and I didn't care. I watched his beast ride up through those alien eyes. I watched it look down at me from Richard's face. I watched thoughts slide across that handsome face that had more to do with food than sex, and nothing to do with love.

His hands flexed in the bed on either side of me. I heard the cloth tear, ripping. I turned my head and saw his hands lengthening, turning into human claws. Those claws ripped the mattress with a thick, tearing sound.

I stared up at Richard and couldn't keep the fear off my face. “Richard,” I said.

“I would never hurt you.” He whispered it, and when his hands convulsed in the bed, bits of white bedding sprang in the air.

I said, “Richard!” My voice was high, not panicked, but close.

He sliced claws down the length of the bed and pulled out, rolled off me. He rolled onto his side into a tight ball. His hands, his claws were long and thin with his fingernails turned into something monstrous, dangerous.

Shit.

I smoothed my hands down his back. “I'm sorry, Richard. I'm sorry.”

“I won't change during sex, Anita, but this close to the full
moon, it's hard.” He turned his head to look up at me, and his eyes were still amber. His hands began to re-form, shrinking back to human. I watched them change, felt the rush of energy like a wave of dancing insects on my skin.

I knew that if I left him like this, he'd never recover. It wasn't my loss, not really. It was that this would confirm his deepest fears: that he was a monster and only fit to be with other monsters. Richard was not a monster. I believed that. I trusted him not to hurt me. I trusted him more than I trusted myself sometimes.

“Roll over,” I said.

He just looked at me.

I rolled his hips over, and he let me. He wasn't completely hard now. Nothing like having your lover scream for help to take the fun out of it. I touched him, and he shuddered, eyes closing. I held him in my hands and stroked him until he grew warm and hard.

I slid over him, and he was almost too big from this angle, almost too much. It was more intense with me on top, sharper somehow. A small moan escaped him.

“I love you, Richard. I love you.” I moved above him with him so deep inside me, it felt like I should be able to taste him.

His hands slid around my waist, then to my breasts. The feeling of his hands on me while I rode his body was almost too much. I moved my hips gently at first, then faster. I forced him into me, hard and fast and deep, until I wasn't sure if it felt good or hurt.

I felt the orgasm growing. I felt it filling me up like warm water in a cup, filling from the bottom up. I felt it flow over me in small spasms.

Richard's breathing changed, quickened, and I knew he was close. “Not yet,” I whispered, “not yet.”

He dug his hands into the bed on either side of me. I felt his hands go. I felt them slip their skin. I felt it like the small release it was, like an echo of what his body was doing inside of me. The claws tore into the bed like nails. I heard the mattress material make that heavy ripping sound, and it was too late.

The orgasm caught me in a burst that bowed my spine and made me cry out. It washed over me in a skin-shifting, nerve-jumping dance as if every part of me were trying to leave every other part behind. For a shining second, I felt skinless, boneless,
nothing but the warm roll of pleasure and the feel of his body underneath me. Only his body anchored me, only the feel of him going inside me in one great release reminded me where I was, who I was.

I opened my eyes and found his eyes brown and human. He raised his hands to me, and I fell against his body. I laid my head on his chest and felt his heart beating against my cheek. I lay there feeling his body pulse underneath me. His arms holding me.

He laughed, and it was joyous. He raised my face to his and kissed me lightly and carefully. “I love you, too,” he said.

W
ARM
. H
E WAS
so warm. He? My eyes were wide open, and sleep fell away like a crash of glass. I was left lying in bed with my heart pounding and a tanned arm flung across my stomach. I stared up that arm and found Richard on his stomach, hair flung over his face like a curtain. I was lying on my back, sheets down past my waist, trapped under Richard's arm.

I raised my head back and found Van Gogh's
Sunflowers
above the bed. Richard's cabin. We'd done too much damage to mine.

I had a very strong urge to pull the sheets up and cover my breasts. Okay, okay, Richard had seen the whole show last night, but this morning, I wanted to cover up. I was embarrassed. Not big, awful embarrassed, but little, confused embarrassed.

I realized I was lying there with my arms tucked across my chest, as if I was hiding. Richard's arm looked very dark against the pale white skin of my stomach. Jean-Claude had remarked that my skin was almost as pale as his. I'd had enough moral problems with premarital sex with the undead. My one comfort had been that I was monogamous. Now I didn't even have that. Whoredom had finally arrived just as my Grandmother Blake had always warned. In a way, she was right. Once you have sex with anyone, sex becomes more of a possibility with others.

The drapes in the cabin hadn't been pulled completely. Morning sunlight fell through the white sheers and spilled over the bed. I'd never seen a man's body by morning light. I'd never slept with a man and awakened beside him. Oh, once with Stephen, but fully clothed with guns and bad guys about to come through the door isn't quite the same thing.

I reached out towards Richard's arm, tentative. You'd think after what we did last night, I'd be braver, but I was almost
afraid to touch him. I'd had sexual fantasies about Richard, but this—this was the big one. To wake up beside him, warm and alive. God forgive me, but I valued that.

I touched his arm lightly so that all I really touched were the small golden hairs, no skin. I brushed upward just above the skin until there was nothing but the bare skin of his upper arm and shoulder. I drew my fingertips over the warmth of his skin. He was incredibly warm. Warmer than skin temperature, almost fevered.

I felt him wake, a tension in his shoulder and back that hadn't been there before. I turned my head, and his brown eyes were staring at me through the thick curtain of his hair.

He rose up on one elbow and smoothed his hair back from his face. He smiled, and it was the same smile that had melted me into my socks a hundred times. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning,” I said. I had pulled the sheets up over my breasts without thinking about it.

He wiggled closer, which made the sheets at his waist slide down to reveal the smooth expanse of his buttocks. He kissed me, soft, tender, then rubbed his face along my cheek until his breath was warm against my ear, then farther back into my hair. He was giving me a wolf greeting. He kissed lightly down my neck and stopped at my shoulder, which was about all that was uncovered.

“You seem tense,” he said.

“You don't,” I said.

He laughed, and the sound made me shiver and smile at the same time. It was a laugh I'd never heard from Richard. It was very masculine, very . . . something: possessive, satisfied maybe.

I felt heat creep up my face. Being that embarrassed made me feel silly for being embarrassed. “Oh, hell.”

“What?” he asked. He stroked the side of my face.

“Cuddle with me, Richard. Sex is great, but when I thought of this moment, I thought of you holding me, spooning me.”

His smile was gentle, pleased. He turned on his side and even spilled the sheets back over his waist. He raised his upper arm.

I rolled onto my side so my back faced him and snuggled against his warm body. He was a little tall for spooning, but we wiggled around with much giggling and stupid comments until we found a position that felt right. I wrapped his arm around me, sinking into the warm curve of his chest and all the rest,
and let out a sigh. The feel of his naked groin pressed against me wasn't so much exciting as it just felt right. I felt possessive of his body, of him. I wanted to hold him like this forever.

His skin was almost hot. “You feel like you've got a fever,” I said.

“It's the full moon,” he said. “By tomorrow night when the moon is completely full, my base temperature will be over a hundred and one.”

He pushed my hair aside until he could nuzzle the back of my neck. It made me break out in gooseflesh. I squirmed. “That tickles.”

“Yes,” he said, “it does.” I could feel him growing larger against my body.

I laughed and rolled over on my back. “Why, Mr. Zeeman, you seem happy to see me.”

He leaned in for a kiss. “Always.”

The kiss grew, becoming more. I moved my body against his and had one leg wrapped around his buttocks when he scooted back, going onto his knees.

“What's wrong?” I asked. We'd already established last night, after it would have been too late, that I was on the pill. He'd been nicely horrified when he thought of it. Since werewolves can't get or carry disease, once the pregnancy issue was addressed, you were safe. Which also explained why I wasn't worried about licking blood off of the lycanthropes last night. Gross, but not dangerous.

“I can't,” Richard said.

I looked down the length of his body. “Oh, I'd say you're ready.”

He blushed for me. “You saw me last night, Anita. One day closer to the full moon, my control will be worse, not better.”

I lay back on the bed. “Oh.” I was disappointed. Minutes before, I'd been worried that we'd given in to our lust, and now I was sad that we couldn't do it again. Trust me to be logical about my men.

“I'm glad you're disappointed, too,” he said. “For a minute there, I thought you were going to get up out of bed, say it had all been a terrible mistake, and go back to Jean-Claude.”

I covered my eyes with my hands, then made myself look at Richard while I said it. He sat there looking too scrumptious for words, but I couldn't let it slide. If he was thinking this meant
I'd dump Jean-Claude, I couldn't let it slide. But I wanted to. “What do you think last night meant, Richard?”

The smile faded around the edges but didn't disappear completely. “It meant something to me, Anita. I thought it meant something to you.”

“It did. It does. But . . .”

“But what about Jean-Claude.” Richard said it softly, but it had to be said by someone.

I nodded, hugging the sheet to my chest. “Yeah.”

“Can you go back to just dating him after last night?”

I sat up and reached for his hand. He gave it to me. “I've missed you so much, Richard. The sex is nice, but . . .”

He raised eyebrows. “Nice, just nice?”

I smiled. “It was wonderful and you know it. And you know that's not what I meant.”

He nodded, hair swinging into his eyes. He brushed it back. “I know. I've missed you, too. I'm lost on weekends without you.”

I pressed his hand to my cheek. “Me, too.”

He sighed. “So you're going to be with us both?”

I let his hand fall to my lap, still holding it. “You'd go along with that?”

“Maybe.” He leaned in and kissed my forehead, ever so gently. “Notice I didn't ask you to give him up and just date me.”

I touched his face. “I know, and I'm both relieved and surprised. Thank you for not asking.”

He pulled back enough to see my face clearly. He looked very serious. “You don't like ultimatums, Anita. If I push you, I'll lose.”

“Why do you want to win, Richard? Why don't you just dump me?”

He smiled. “Now she gives me the choice.”

“I've given you the choice before,” I said. “I mean, I know why Jean-Claude puts up with me. I help his power base. You'd be better off if you picked out a nice, safe werewolf for your lupa. I hurt your power base.”

“I'm in love with you,” he said simply.

“Why do I feel like apologizing for that?” I asked.

“I've been doing a lot of thinking about why I couldn't hate you. Why I couldn't let you go.”

“And?” I had pulled the sheets around me like a nest so I wouldn't be naked. If somewhere in this conversation he did dump me, I didn't want to be naked. Silly but true.

Naked didn't seem to bother Richard. Frankly, it was distracting to me. “I need a human girlfriend. I need someone who isn't a monster.”

“A lot of humans would be happy to be your snuggle bunny, Richard.”

“I found that out,” he said, “but I didn't have sex with any of them.”

“Why not?”

“Farther away from the full moon I have better control. The eyes don't go, let alone the hands. I can pass for human, but I'm not human. You know what I am, and even you almost couldn't accept it.”

There was nothing I could say to that, so I didn't try.

He looked down at the bed, fingers playing along the edge of the sheet. His voice grew very soft. “My first year in the pack, one of the other new wolves had a human girlfriend. He crushed her pelvis while they were making love.”

My eyes widened. “A little too rough,” I said.

Richard shook his head. He let his hair fall this time, hiding most of his face. “You don't understand, Anita. Strength is strength. We can pick up small cars and throw them. If you don't realize your own strength, you can't control it.” He looked at me suddenly, staring out at me through his hair. It was a gesture that Gabriel had been fond of, as if the hair were comforting or reminded them of fur. “You're the first nonlycan-thrope I've ever had sex with since I became one.”

“I'm flattered, I guess.”

“I was still scared I'd hurt you like my friend had hurt his girlfriend or in a thousand other ways. During sex you lose control. That's part of the fun. I can never lose control, not completely, unless I'm with another lycanthrope.”

I looked at him. “What are you trying to say, Richard?”

“I'm saying you date both of us. Have sex with both of us. I will hate it, but . . .”

I stared at him. I didn't like that he didn't want to finish the sentence. Made me nervous. “What, Richard?”

He brushed his hair back with both hands until his face was
clean and tight. “You date both of us, and I'll keep dating other lycanthropes.”

I just kept staring at him.

“Say something,” he said.

I opened my mouth, closed it, tried again. “You mean you'll keep having sex with Lucy.”

“Not Lucy, she's. . . You've met her. She could never be lupa of our pack.”

“So you're going to keep auditioning lupas?”

“I don't know if I am or not, but I know if you sleep with Jean-Claude, I have the right to sleep with other people.”

I couldn't exactly argue with him, but I wanted to. “You're still trying to get me to give up Jean-Claude.”

“No,” he said. “I'm just saying that if you're not monogamous to me, then why should I be monogamous to you?”

“No reason, I guess. Except. . . I thought we loved each other.”

“We do. I do.” He stood and picked up his jeans from the floor. “But you don't love me enough to give up Jean-Claude. Why should I love you enough to give up everyone else?”

I stared at him and felt tears begin to fill my eyes. “You bastard.”

He nodded. He slipped into his pants without underwear, zipping carefully. “The real bitch is that I do love you enough to give up everyone else. I just don't know if I can share you with Jean-Claude. I just don't know if I can stand the thought of you in his bed. The thought of him being with you like that drives me . . .” He shook his head. “I'm going to take a shower. I've still got trolls to study.”

I couldn't even begin to think about what he'd just said. It was too much all at once. When confused, concentrate on business.

“I need to come with you and talk to the biologists. We need to find out if Franklin Niley is the buyer for the land. The guy who lost his arm last night was afraid of him. It takes someone pretty scary to make a man hesitate when he's surrounded by werewolves. Your normal real estate types don't have that kind of juice.”

Richard strode back to the bed. He picked me up around the waist and kissed me. He crushed me against him, like he'd crawl
in through my mouth and pull me around him. I was breathless when he sat me back down on the bed.

“I want to touch you, Anita. I want to hold your hand and do silly, goofy grins. I want us to act like people who are in love.”

“We are in love,” I said.

“Then for today, let's throw all the doubts out. Just be with me the way I've always wanted you to be. If I want to touch you today, I don't want to be afraid not to. I want what happened last night to change things.”

I nodded. “All right.”

“You don't look sure,” he said.

“I'd love to go around holding your hand, Richard. I'm just realizing that . . . Oh, hell, Richard, what am I going to tell Jean-Claude?”

“I asked Jean-Claude how much difference the marks made to you, how much harder you were to hurt physically. He figured out why I was asking. I ended up telling him the whole sad story about my friend and his dead girlfriend.”

I looked at him. “What did he say?”

“He said, ‘Trust yourself,
mon ami
. You are not your friend with his so-sad tale. And Anita is not human. Through us she is more than that. Both of us huddle around her humanity like it is the last candle flame in a world of darkness. But by our very love, we make her less human, and more.'”

My eyebrows went up. “You remembered all that?”

Richard looked at me, and it was a long, considering look. He nodded. “I remembered because he's right. He's right. We both love you in our ways for similar reasons. It isn't just power that draws him to you. You saw him as a monster. The fact that you don't anymore makes him feel less like one.”