Clearer in the Night (17 page)

I rested my forehead against his, fighting the waves of enjoyment that were flashing up from between my thighs. “I need to know what’s happening to me. I can’t live like this.”

Another firm tug from him, and I was straddling him, his firm interest burning up through my cold and clammy clothes. Thoughts scattered, and I let his hands urge me into a rough rhythm, my breath scattered like the wind, and my focus gone with it. There was a waterfall in the background, and the sound of the water tumbling down was beautiful. Amazing. It drove out my worries and doubts. “I think this would be a pretty good way to live,” he said. “God, why are you still dressed?”

Because we needed to talk. Because he owed me answers. But he’d sat up, pulling me close against him, and his tongue was doing intriguing things at the base of my throat, and one hand was still urging me into a slow, steady rhythm against him, and I wanted to be warm. When his teasing fingers unwrapped my soaked sweater, then found their way to the hem of my wet, clinging top, I helped him strip me. His hands were fire against my cold skin. He paused long enough to lay out a blanket and light some kind of citronella candles, and then slid out of his own soaked clothes.
 

The light filtered in through the trees, highlighting the smooth planes of his arms and chest. He came to me again, helping me slip out of my soaked underwear. His lips on mine were flaming as he reached into his bag and pulled out a condom. He pulled back for a moment as he opened the foil package and slid the latex into place with a practiced motion. Then he was back against me, nudging into me, his mouth heavy on my neck, his hands tight on my breasts. I was cold, so damned cold, and I used my ankles to urge him deep inside of me, even though I wasn’t ready, even though I wanted more before, but now I just needed to be warm. He slid into me with a rough groan, and then all I could hear was the water crashing down.

Afterwards was awkward. His arms were circled gently around me, and I wasn’t entirely faking as I snuggled into him—I hadn’t thought I could explode that many times without dying of the pleasure—but still. The awkwardness was everywhere, and growing.

“How do you feel?” he asked.

Questions like that. Awkward. “Wonderful,” I said, and snuggled closer into him. That was what I was supposed to do, I was sure of it. Hollywood to the rescue.

He chuckled and kissed the top of my head. ”I’m glad,” he said. “But that wasn’t what I meant.”

“Oh,” I said. “Um.” My stomach felt like I’d swallowed boiling acid. I could even taste the sharpness on the back of my tongue.

“Is the beast sleeping?” He touched my stomach as he spoke. It was odd to hear someone else speak of it in such plain terms. I’d been thinking it, in various ways, for a week now, but for him to so clearly acknowledge what was happening to me felt…awkward. I turned my attention inward for a moment, and I felt the place where Wes had pushed her down. It was still and quiet.

I nodded. “Is this really happening?”

He pulled me tight against him; his thigh between my legs sending a quiet frisson up my spine. “You tell me,” he said. His hand was tracing patterns down my back again, making me move against him in slow, lazy strokes. It wasn’t quite sexual, but more than just pleasant.

My forehead rested on his chest, and my breathing was just a little ragged. “Feels real.” Real and wonderful.

“Tell me what happened that night in the woods.”

There was a soft slow swirl of heat in my belly, a pleasant heat that was a promise of good things to come later. “If you want me to talk, you should stop doing that,” I said, quietly.

“Talking about it without distracting the beast will not take you to a happy place. Please believe that. If you can’t sate her hunger one way,” his lips drifted down to brush my temple, and even as exhausted as I was, I was still eager and at attention. “You need to feed her another way. Tell me what you remember from that night.”

He’d told me that first night to stop talking about it, and I had, because I didn’t want anyone to think I was completely insane. It was a relief to let the story out, finally. To stop pretending like I didn’t remember what happened in excruciating detail. I focused my mind on the sweet warmth of his body, close to mine, and let the story flow forth. I didn’t edit out anything. Not the huge wolf, or the strange new senses that came and went, or the wounds healed like I was Wolverine. I even told him about hallucinating my sister in that clearing, my sister who’d been dead for years. I told him everything while his hand moved between my legs, slow and soft but no less insistent for all of that.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said. “Or, I do. I guess I do.”

He sighed gently, nuzzling into me. He’d rested long enough, apparently. The world spun sweetly. This was new territory. Cuddling. Second times. Softness. You didn’t get this with strangers. “Tell me what you think it is. Saying the name gives you power over it.”

“I can’t even think it. It makes me sound like a stupid kid in a cheesy movie.”

He laid back and lifted me on top of him again like I weighed nothing. He was firm and hard, and I was already wet and eager and open for him. He teased at my body, and it took everything I had to back off and pass him another condom from his bag. He didn’t take it; instead, he sat up, his length pressed between us, and found me with his fingers. My mouth opened wide as my back arched, his fingers moving swiftly and surely inside of me, his thumb teasing over the sweet spot that made me want to scream. The sounds that echoed against the water and danced back to my ears were barely human, and I didn’t know which of us was making them.

“Monster,” he murmured into my ear, as I found his thick warmth with my hand; I was too distracted to give him any kind of rhythm, but he didn’t argue with my stuttering movements. His own rhythm didn’t shift. I tried to listen to his words past the exquisite pleasure sparking through me. “There’s a monster inside of you. A wolf. She will devour you, soul first, and there will be nothing left of you but the wolf. But I can save you. We can save you. Together. We can save you.”

And then his swift, strong fingers carried me over into oblivion. I collapsed against him, sated and gasping, lost and found, and for the first time in years, everything made sense. I was draped across him, sleep stealing me away even though I was sitting up, and I heard him say something, far away. But he could not have said what I thought I heard. No. That would ruin everything.

I woke up, curled on my side. I was still in the woods; it was still dark. I had no idea how much time had passed, but I didn’t have that gritty, slick feeling that comes with sleeping round the clock, so my money was on just a few hours. I felt refreshed. Human. I went to sit up, and the heavy weight of his arm over my chest and his leg over my hip stopped me.

Ugh. I hated this part. I really, really hated this part. Especially when I was going to have to rely on him for a ride home. I really preferred when I faded into mystery, half a dream. That was good. No one looked as nice once the first blush faded. Why even stick around to be disappointed?

The moon had come up while we were sleeping. It was waning quickly, after the full. I stared at it for a long time, waiting to feel differently. To feel anything. Even feeling numb would be an improvement over this void. Because if I—was what he said I was, it was just a matter of time, wasn’t it?

“It won’t bother you yet,” he said. I didn’t jump; I’d heard his breathing change when he woke. “It’ll get worse as the month passes, and in two and a half weeks, it’ll be irresistible, but right now?” I looked back at him, and he gave a smooth, very naked shrug. “Just a pretty disk in the sky.”

“It’s late,” I said, and wondered where my bra had ended up. Seeing him on his side, head propped on his elbow, made me feel much more naked than I had a moment ago. He reached out to touch me, and I flinched away. “My mom will be worried.” Holy crap. Could I sound any younger?

His face clouded over. “You don’t believe it.”

“Believe what?” I slipped out from under him, and started looking for my clothes. My jeans were soaked still, and clammy against my thighs as I pulled them on. My underwear were totally MIA. My bra had gotten torn in the festivities. “That there’s a legendary evil monster somehow trapped inside me? And that you have a top secret way to save me?”

He made no move to get dressed, just put his hands behind his head and watched me. “Basically.”

“Basically.” I laughed. “The really screwed up thing?” I found my t-shirt and pulled it on; the cold, wet fabric clung to my breasts, highlighting every shadow. That caught his attention. I couldn’t help running my hands down the sides, ostensibly to smooth out the cloth. “I do believe you. Something is happening to me, and your explanation? Sick as it is, it makes sense. And now I want to go home.”

His eyes devoured me. His hands strayed up his thighs for a minute—and then he sighed. “Caitie, you’re going to be okay.” He sat up, took my hand, and tugged me down beside him. “We’ll fix this.”

I wanted to snort with laughter. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

“To wake up feeling rested somewhere other than the woods. To stop feeling like there is someone inside of me, trying to steal my skin. I want to slap you and walk away from you and tell all my friends what a freak you are.”

“So why don’t you?” His eyes were smoldering. If it were up to him, we’d probably just stay here until dawn. Maybe forever. Pretend that whatever was happening was just a bad dream.

“Because I should be sore. Because I should be gutted, or dead.” He touched my face, and I turned my lips into his palm. The beast—the wolf—pushed into his skin, craving his touch. I wanted to run away. “I just want to go home and sleep. Please.”

He leaned forward to kiss me, and I didn’t stop him. His free hand curled around my waist, snugging me up against him—how good could that really feel to him, pressed against wet cotton?—the hand on my cheek sliding back and tangling with my messy hair. He deepened the kiss, smashing into me, and I let him. I heard all the same happy, encouraging sounds coming out of my throat, felt my hands kneading his shoulders, moving to his bare ass. I felt him stiffening against me.
 

But for all the happy sounds I was making, part of me was bored, checking my nails, over the entire experience already. This was why I didn’t come back for seconds, why I never bothered to try and sort a relationship out. What was the point, when this always happened, when I turned into this cold statue? A couple times in college, I’d tried to work with it. I’d tried waiting to sleep with the guy, and I’d tried not waiting. I’d tried talking about it, and not talking about it. End analysis—I was just broken. Sooner or later, Wes would realize. They always did. It would be kinder to just walk away from him now, to laugh and point, to get back to Meredith Falls on my own, somehow. But it had been so nice before, to be warm, while he was kissing me. I’d stay for a little while longer. At least he didn’t think I was crazy. That was something. He buried his face in my neck and took this huge, sighing inhale, and then let it out in a rush. “You’re wonderful,” he said, and the tension in my belly twisted up another notch.