Caterpillar, a Paranormal Romance With a Touch of Horror (24 page)

Slowly, the color of other feelings began to swirl and meld with that bliss.  It was being infused with something else, something…better.  I was becoming more aware of what was happening as some part of my consciousness invaded the tranquility. 

All at once, my nerves awakened and I felt everything.  My skin was alive with feeling.  Tegan was holding me in position, one big hand at the back of my head and the other low on my back.  His body was warm beneath me.  His lips were suckling at my neck.  His belly rubbed rhythmically against mine as he panted.  I felt every twitch of his movement, stimulating my hypersensitive skin.    

Desire blossomed inside me.  It collided with my growing need to be close to Tegan and, together, they exploded in my core, passion bubbling in my veins.  I shifted to bring one leg over his.  When I settled my hips onto his, he jerked.  I felt as much as heard the growl that rumbled low in his throat and chest.  My body burned with hunger at the sound. Hot and wild, it pooled like lava where our bodies met.

His hips shifted, tipping up into mine.  Pleasure, stronger than anything I’d ever felt, flooded me.  I heard a moan.  A thrill of excitement raced down my spine.  Tegan’s fingers fisted in my hair and his every muscle tensed with barely controlled passion. Crushing me to him, he rolled, pulling my body beneath his. His hips rested between my open thighs and I heard another moan.  It was then I recognized the voice as my own. 

Breathless anticipation mingled with overwhelming desire in a cocktail so strong I could barely breathe.  My chest was heaving as I took huge gulps of air. 

Then a buzz began in my ears, growing louder and louder.  My head spun lightly with an increasing dizziness.  Slowly, I felt sensation roll away.  I struggled to hang on to the pleasure, but the riptide’s fuzzy fingers pulled me into a gray sea of oblivion.

Chapter Twenty-One

Friday.

The pounding of my head woke me.  I would have sworn someone had cut the top of my skull off, it was so painful.  I struggled to open my eyes, but it took several seconds for my body to obey the command. 

I looked around at my surroundings.  I was in my bedroom.  Though they were drawn, I could see the soft light of dawn teasing the edges of the curtains.  I tried to remember how I’d gotten to bed, but my head was all fuzzy.  It was like trying to see through a single ply of cotton candy.  I turned my head and saw light glowing around the bathroom door.  And then it all came back to me.  Tegan. 

I sat up too quickly and the room spun on its axis.  I flopped back down and held my head in an ineffective effort to stabilize the room.  I heard the soft click of the door opening and I peeked from behind my hands.

Tegan, in all his masculine glory, was standing in the doorway wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist.  Seeing a hot guy in a towel on television is nothing, absolutely
nothing,
compared to the real thing. 

His wet hair looked black as night and was attractively tousled where he’d toweled it semi-dry.  Thick bands of muscle stretched across his wide chest and shoulders and traveled the length of his stomach.  A light dusting of hair spread from nipple to nipple and to his navel then disappeared behind the towel.  The material rode low on his slim hips.  I could see a considerable bulge just below the knot. 

I felt my cheeks burn when I realized that I was staring.  I jerked my eyes up to his.  They were a darker, smoldering blue.  Instantly, heat erupted in my belly.  I closed my eyes against it, against
him
.  I didn’t want to be attracted to him.  Evidently he had some very shady secrets and I didn’t need that kind of drama in my life.  I was producing plenty on my own.

“I’m surprised to see you awake so soon,” he said, his voice husky and low.

There were so many questions that I desperately wanted answered, but one kept floating to the top of the pile and I wanted to ask it before I kicked him out.  “What happened to you last night?”

“I got a splinter,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Obviously,” I said through gritted teeth, concentrating on not being hateful.  “Why did you react that way?”

“I’m allergic to dogwood.”  The answer came so quickly and was so specific that I believed him.  It brought to mind a few more questions, but I knew they’d have to wait.

“You need to leave.  I told you the neighbors—“

“I moved my vehicle.  You don’t need to worry about the neighbors.”

“And exactly how do you plan to get out of here without being seen?  It’s light outside.”

“Trust me, if I don’t want to be seen, I won’t be.”

Apprehension outweighed my curiosity and I let the comment go without asking him to explain.  “Aren’t you, like, allergic to sunlight or something?”

“I don’t drink enough blood for that to be a problem.  I don’t
prefer
sunlight, but it won’t hurt me.”

Part of me wanted so much to ask questions, but another part of me was backing away, withdrawing from him.  I felt so overwhelmed and so disappointed that I just didn’t want to think about any of it at that moment.  Considering my intense attraction to Tegan, finding out he was essentially evil was devastating.

“Well, whatever, but you still need to leave.”

“I don’t think it’s safe for you here right now.  That’s why I stayed.”

“Oh, like it’s safe for me around you?”

I knew that wasn’t fair.  He hadn’t really hurt me.  I was more emotionally wounded than anything else and I needed time to process things.  I couldn’t do that with him standing in my bedroom in a towel and nothing else.

“I-I didn’t mean to hurt you.  I tried to make it as painless as possible.  I was in bad shape, though.”  He looked miserable when he spoke about what he’d done.  “You saved me, Cat.  And I haven’t even thanked you yet.”

Uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken, I stumbled a bit.  “Well, it- I guess it wasn’t
that
big a deal.  It wasn’t
too
terrible.”  To be honest, although I wasn’t prepared to delve too deeply into the memory of it, I vaguely remember finding great pleasure in it.  That didn’t help my current disposition, though.  I wanted to be mad.  I
needed
to be mad, to channel all my frustrations…somewhere.  And Tegan was a convenient target.

“I had hoped I’d be able to help you enjoy it, but I may have been too weak.”  His voice was thick and velvety.  I felt it slide over my skin and wrap around me.  Cold chills raced down my arms.  Hot butterflies fluttered everywhere else.

“Well, regardless, you need to go,” I said, sitting up slowly in the bed.  “I’ve got a lot to do today.”

“I’ll leave as you do.  How ‘bout that?”

“Fine,” I said, whipping the covers back.  “I guess I’ll go to work early.”  I stomped past him, into the bathroom and slammed the door behind me.  It would’ve made a much better exit if I hadn’t locked myself in the bathroom while his clothes were still in there.  I picked them up, flung them out the door and slammed it again.  His intoxicating scent filled the room.  I wanted to take a deep breath and revel in the smell, but instead, I breathed through my mouth and did my best to ignore it.

I took a long, hot shower.  It wasn’t until I got out that I realized I hadn’t taken any clean clothes into the bathroom with me.  I wrapped a towel around me and opened the door just a crack and peeked out into the bedroom.  Thankfully, it was empty.  I dressed quickly then finished getting ready. 

Over an hour later, I emerged, the soothing smell of brewing coffee tickling my nose.  I walked toward the kitchen and saw Tegan in the living room, looking out the window, staring at something pretty intensely. 

The hairs at my nape prickled.  “What?  What is it?”

He didn’t turn to look at me.  “I didn’t know you had a cat.”

“I don’t,” I said, puzzled by his reaction.

“There’s a cat on your front porch.”

“Oh. 
That
cat.  It followed me home from my aunt’s house.  Since it was gone last night, I thought he might’ve gone home.  Guess not.”

“Guess not,” he muttered in agreement, still watching the cat.

“Do I smell coffee?”

“Yep,” Tegan said, finally looking away from the window. 

“How did you—”

“I ran out and bought you a new one.  Carter told me what happened to your other one,” he said, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

I could feel the frown pulling my brows together.  I don’t know what irritated me more:  that he might be trying to charm me or that it was already working.

Manners that Mamaw had drummed into me since childhood dictated that I should thank him, but stubbornness that I was born with stomped the urge down quite effectively.  Without a word I turned and walked into the kitchen.

Lying beside the coffeemaker was Aunt Jillian’s necklace.  They must’ve recovered it from the crime scene and Tegan brought it back to me.  Again, I knew the right thing to do was to thank him, and I would.  It just probably wouldn’t be the most heartfelt expression of appreciation I’d ever given.

I fastened the necklace around me neck then poured myself a travel mug of coffee and headed back into the living room.  “Well thanks for…everything.  I really need to go, though.”

Tegan stood, watching me closely in that way he so often did, his eyes narrowed the tiniest bit.  He opened his mouth like he was going to speak then changed his mind and closed it.  Finally he said, “Be careful today,” but I didn’t think that’s what he wanted to say.  I shook my head, bending to gather my things.  Tegan opened the door for me. 

I stepped onto the porch and heard a low growling sound only seconds before the cat jumped at me from the porch railing.  I dropped my coffee mug and yelped when I felt his claws dig into the tender skin of my chest.  Just as quickly, he let go and fell to the ground.
”What the —” My would-be explicative was cut short when a prick at my ankle claimed my attention.  I looked down and saw a long brown vine had grown across the porch and one of the inch-long thorns at its tip was sticking in my flesh.  “Where did that come from?”

Tegan bent to look at the vine, his expression causing my nape to prickle again.  “It wasn’t there when I went out earlier this morning,” he said, his voice grave.

Chapter Twenty-Two

I reached down to push the thorn away and another shoot of the vine sprouted out and wound itself around my wrist.  As I watched, little fuzz along its length grew and grew until I could see that they were small thorns.  They continued to thicken and lengthen until they looked like the vicious black tips that topped the shoot by my ankle. 

All at once, several of them tore into my flesh.  I gasped at the sting of it.  “Tegan!”

He been standing at the porch rail, looking out into the yard, but when he heard me call his name, he turned.  Quickly, he grabbed the vine to tear it from me.  It had attached its entire length to my skin, however, and when he pulled it felt like he was skinning me.  “No, no, no!  Don’t do that.  It’s in me!”  I shouted, squelching a scream of agony.  A burning sensation was creeping from my wrist into my arm and shoulder and from my ankle up into my calf.

Tegan stood up and pulled something from his pocket.  I glanced at him, but movement behind him caught my eye.  Several more thick, brown vines were crawling across the porch toward me.  “Tegan!”

He squatted in front of my and flipped open a pocket knife.  He sawed at the vine encircling my hand.  When he cut through it and tossed it aside, more sprouts came out and made their way toward me.  My body felt on fire and panic was threatening to take over, the mere thought of having hundreds of thorns stabbing me and injecting their poison into my body enough to terrify me.