Code of the Wolf (14 page)

But he wasn't remembering when he dropped his hat, crossed the space between them and took her in his arms. He wasn't thinking as another part of the Code he'd lived by crumbled under his feet like the parched earth at the edge of a cliff. After his three nights of hunting and running as a wolf, his instincts were very close to the surface. He didn't have the will to fight them. And when she put her arms around his shoulders and raised her face to his, he knew nothing in the world could stop him from kissing her.

Serenity was as hungry as he was, as eager to feel his mouth on hers. Her lips were pliant and warm and demanding. He could feel all the wiry strength in her body as she laced her fingers in his hair and opened her mouth to accept the thrust of his tongue. Her heart was thumping so hard that he couldn't feel his own.

He kissed Serenity's cheeks, her chin, her forehead, as he moved his hands down her straight back and rested them on the gentle flare of her hips. No men's clothes could conceal her very feminine body from his eager fingers.

She leaned into him, her breasts flattening against his chest. A little prick of Jacob's conscience reminded him that they were moving much too fast. He had to stop before they went too far. He had to
remember.

But the wolf and its primitive power would not be denied. He pulled her hips against his and slid his hands between them, cupping them over her breasts. She wasn't nearly as small as she appeared in a shirt meant to blur her shape. He'd known she didn't wear a corset, and there was only one other layer between the shirt and her skin, too thin to blunt the firm peaks of her nipples.

He kissed her again, swallowing her soft moans as he rubbed his thumbs across the heavy cotton covering her breasts. He tugged up on the shirt, freeing the tail from the waistband of her trousers. His fingers brushed heated silk, a woman's undergarment that served as a shallow nod toward propriety, a feminine indulgence he hadn't expected. He lifted that as well, exposing the soft skin of her waist, feeling the tremulous flutter of her breath. The undergarment lay too close to her body for Jacob to reach underneath it, but he slid his fingers up over the silk and found her nipples again.

She gasped, her body torn between resistance and surrender. Jacob didn't recognize her struggles for what they were until she pulled away, tearing the undergar
ment before he could get his hand free. She backed up, her shirttail flapping around her hips.

“I'm…I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I can't.”

It was the second time she'd encouraged him and then broken off, and Jacob reeled as if a bullet had just passed through his heart. His legs had gone weak as a newborn calf's, and his breath burned like a searing wind off the Jornada del Muerto. The wolf inside him snarled in frustration, slavering to finish what he'd started.

This time the man was stronger.

“Serenity,” he said, holding his arms loose at his sides. “You've…got no call to apologize. I was the one—”

She pushed at the air between them, warding off his awkward attempt at an explanation. “I wish I could explain,” she said, her voice catching.

She didn't have to. He'd been doing nothing but reminding her what he was almost since they'd left Avalon.

Better to leave her alone and give her a chance to recover her composure while he figured out how he was ever going to be able to look her in the face again. He turned to leave.

“No,” she said. “No. Don't go.”

“I reckoned you'd want to be alone.”

“No. I…wasn't honest with you, either. I said I was willing to give you…whatever you wanted in exchange for helping me. Even though you refused, I never would have been able to go through with it.”

“You don't have to say any more,” he said roughly.

“I want to. Please. Look at me, Jacob.”

He looked. She wasn't trembling now, though he could still smell the fear on her.

“We should be riding out,” he said. “If you want to talk later…”

“With this standing between us?”

“You know I'd never hurt you.”

“I know,” she said, staring at the ground. “If it were only what you are…” She trailed off and sat on one of the nearby rocks. “I was engaged once,” she said, “to a very good man. A gentle man who loved me.”

Another bullet plowed through Jacob's body, piercing something more vulnerable than any flesh. When he had first met her, he had speculated that her skittishness around him, her disgust for the male sex, had to do with bad treatment by someone she'd known. He had put that speculation aside when he'd learned of her parents' deaths at the hands of his kind.

But he'd never thought she might have had a good man in her life. It didn't seem to fit. And it meant that someone else had…

“He died,” Serenity said. “He died in the fire with my parents. He was visiting that day. We were planning our—”

She broke off, her throat working. “I loved him,” she said, finding her voice again. “He was the only man I had ever cared for. When he died, I knew I could never feel the same way again.”

Or give herself to any man, because it reminded her too much of him? Had her fiance touched her as Jacob had, or had their relationship remained pure, preserved in innocence until their wedding night?

Ruth had been innocent in every way but one until the day she died. And he had loved her.

“I'm sorry,” he said.

She rubbed at her eyes. “Thank you. I hope you understand why—”

“I understand,” he said. But he knew there must be a hell of a lot more he didn't know about her. That made everything harder, because his plan to leave her behind wasn't going to work, and he needed every advantage he could get. He would have to figure out another way to leave her. And of keeping his hands off her for the rest of the time they were together.

“We should go now,” he said. “If you feel well enough.”

Serenity got up, opened one of her saddlebags and took out a small fabric pouch. Inside were the pins she used to hold her hair close to her head. She began to gather up the long strands that had come loose during their embrace, the lines of her back subtly changing with every graceful motion.

“What is it like?” she asked suddenly.

Jacob didn't have to ask what she meant, though it astonished him that she would ask at all.

“Sometimes it feels like a miracle,” he said, looking toward the sun rising over the mountains. “Having two ways to look at life. There's so much beauty out there most folks don't see because they don't take the time to look. But when you're a wolf…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right way to put his feelings into words a person like Serenity could understand. “You can't help but take the time, because right now is all
there is. The future doesn't matter, and neither does the past.”

“No future,” she murmured. “No past.”

“You're just alive, part of the night, with the blood of everything that lives pumping in your veins.”

Serenity turned slowly, the little bag still clutched in her hands.

“Are you…born this way?” she asked.

He met her uncertain gaze. “We're born with the ability. But the Change doesn't start coming until a boy or girl starts changing in other ways.”

“Oh.” Serenity rubbed her flushed cheeks. “It must feel strange at first.”

“When you grow up around it, you don't think much of it.”

She lifted the bag, looking at it as if she'd never seen it before. “I've seen wolves teaching their young,” she said. “Is it the same with your people? Do your parents show you how to hunt?”

“Something like that.”

“What is your family like, Jacob? Do werewolves—the good ones, I mean—have regular occupations just like ordinary people?”

Jacob felt his muscles tighten. He wanted to put her at ease, but not like this.

“Ma took good care of us,” he said. “Pa ran a livery stable.”

“I would have thought that werewolves would frighten horses, but you never have any trouble,” she said.

“Sometimes being what we are makes other animals easier to control.”

She shivered once and looked up again. “Are your parents still living?”

“No.”

“I'm sorry.”

At once he regretted the coldness of his reply. “My brother, John, is alive. He studied law and went up to Oregon.”

“A werewolf lawyer,” she said wonderingly. “And you left to join the Texas Rangers.”

He turned away from the sunrise, hiding his face in shadow. “That's right.”

“But they didn't know what you were.”

He shook his head.

“Was there…a woman you left behind?”

It was natural she should ask, after she'd told him about her fiance. But he couldn't talk about Ruth. Not with Serenity. Never with her.

“It's your past we're dealing with,” he said. “Mine's of no consequence in what we've got to do.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't intend to pry.”

He steadied his voice again. “Sometimes we take things for granted. We think what we've got isn't good enough somehow. But that ranch you've got…it's something you don't want to lose. You can still change your mind.”

She turned and tucked the little pouch back in her saddlebag. “I'm ready to go now.”

They finished their preparations, mounted and headed west, away from the Rio Grande. It took them another two days to reach Sierra Blanca, a small and isolated town distinguished only by the fact that it had been founded at a railroad junction a few years before.
Jacob and Serenity replenished their supplies, the last time they would be able to do so for the next week or more. From there to Fort Stockton they would be riding straight across desert grassland and through barren mountains, most likely encountering nothing more than coyotes, rabbits and rattlesnakes. Even cattle were uncommon in this country.

It was the most difficult part of their journey, but Serenity never once complained, even when they had to ration their water and ride during the night to avoid the sun's searing heat. Mesquite and tarbush scraped at their horses' legs, and the weary animals began to droop. Each night or morning, when they made camp, Jacob and Serenity worked as partners with no relationship but that of fellow travelers.

As they approached Fort Stockton, the terrain became more hospitable, and they began to see small herds of cattle. Jacob put all his senses on alert, frequently smelling the air and scanning the horizon.

They spent a whole day camped near the fort and its bountiful springs, resting the horses, buying more provisions and sleeping. Then they moved westward again, moving ever closer to the Pecos River. Serenity became visibly more uneasy, shifting constantly in her saddle, looking anxiously in every direction as if she expected an attack. Her agitation became more obvious after they forded the Pecos at the old military road crossing near the ruins of Fort Lancaster.

Jacob knew why. They'd seen hardly a sign of anything human in the miles they'd traveled since leaving Fort Stockton, but by his reckoning they were within a day's ride of Bethel. Serenity was remembering what
had brought her there the first time, and wondering if she would finally find what she'd been looking for.

They came on a dry, meandering wash at midafternoon and followed the barely visible wagon path alongside it until they came within sight of a tiny cattle town, blessed with a single live oak, and a dusty street bordered by a row of bleached and battered structures hardly distinguishable from the desert itself.

Serenity pulled up and stared at the ragged buildings.

“This is the place,” she said.

I
T HADN'T CHANGED.
The town was no bigger than it had been six years ago, nor any less deserted in appearance. Serenity gripped the reins, hoping to conceal the trembling of her hands.

Coward,
she thought. She had seen no other choice but to come here in spite of the risk that someone would recognize her and tell Jacob how she had arrived.

She and Jacob hadn't spoken of anything personal—especially their respective pasts—since the day of the second kiss, a day she hadn't been able to put from her mind for a moment over the weeks that had followed. What he had revealed that day…what she had revealed to him…had changed something between them.

Oh, not in any physical sense. Jacob had been a perfect gentleman, careful not to so much as brush her hand in passing. If he'd changed into a wolf during their long ride, he hadn't let her see it. He was clearly using his animal senses, but he did so subtly, and not once had he done anything to provoke her.

But that didn't change the fact that something was different. In all the time she'd known about the existence of werewolves, she'd never once considered that there could be anything admirable about the change from man to beast. All she had seen was the ugliness.

Jacob had opened his heart to her and shown her
things she couldn't have imagined in the midst of her captivity or the hatred that had consumed her after her escape. The poetry of his simple words had moved her deeply.

Yet as much as those words had stirred her, his reaction when she had explained about Levi had touched her even more. His acceptance had seemed a blessing, even though she'd been lying about the real reason she couldn't let him…

A gust of dust-laden wind made her blink, and she brushed her hand across her eyes. Even the idea that she could consider going beyond a kiss astonished her.

That was what Jacob had wanted.

But he would never, ever force her. He had understood and accepted her explanation, vague and untruthful as it was. And then, when she had asked about his family and he had told her of his parents and brother, she had felt the weight of her prejudice begin to dwindle from a crushing burden to a knot of uncertainty hardly bigger than her heart. There had been so little left of it that she could ask about the women in Jacob's life and feel the ache of loss when he refused to answer.

But she could expect no better when she was withholding so much from him.

She drew her horse closer to his. “There's something I need to tell you before we ride in,” she said.

He met her gaze with an intensity that was all wolf, just like the way he smelled the air and cocked his head at sounds she couldn't hear. “You want me to go in ahead?” he asked.

“No. It's what I said about the last time I was in Bethel. I told you that I'd ridden in to look for the out
laws after they attacked my family.” She let go of the reins and locked her fingers around the saddle horn, preparing herself to lie again. “It wasn't that way at all. This was the place I came to when I escaped the outlaws. I was inside the house when they set it on fire, but I was able to get out.” Her vision blurred. “I couldn't help my family. It was too late.”

A low sound like a groan of pain seemed to catch in Jacob's throat. “You were almost killed.”

“Yes. I took one of the horses and rode east. I didn't know or care where I was going. I rode for days without stopping, until my horse died under me. I kept on going on foot, and this is where I stopped when I couldn't go any farther.”

Jacob lowered his head as if he were facing an enemy. “You said your family's house wasn't far from Fredericksburg,” he said. “That's over a hundred miles southeast of here.”

“I wasn't in my right mind,” she said. “I was weak and starving when I got here. If an old couple living here hadn't take me in…”

He gazed at her with a kind of quiet horror, and she wondered if she'd been too honest after all.

“I'm not weak and starving now,” she said, meeting his gaze again. “I survived.”

He shook his head. “Why did you think the outlaws would be here?”

“I remembered hearing the name ‘Renier' in Bethel when I was recovering. The people I stayed with were very much afraid of the Reniers, and they had visited the town several times. The name didn't mean much
to me then, but when all the evidence led me to believe the Reniers were the killers I was looking for…”

She thought from the way Jacob looked at her that he could well imagine her terror. “You didn't have to tell me,” he said. “But I'm glad you did.”

At that moment she wished she had the courage to lean into him and let him take her into his arms again. “Someone in town may remember me,” she said. “They may talk about what happened. I didn't want them to tell you first.”

“You all right to ride in?” he asked.

“Yes.”

In spite of her reassurance, he insisted on taking the lead. She kicked her mare Cleo into a trot and rode after Jacob up to the hitching rail outside of the mercantile, which, except for the crooked sign, seemed much the same.

Almost immediately the proprietor appeared in the open doorway, squinting up at them with open curiosity.

“Howdy, gents,” he said. He looked at Serenity more closely. “Ma'am.”

He wasn't the same man. He was younger, though he couldn't have been much less than forty years old. His lean face held an eager expression, suggesting that business here was no better than it had been six years ago.

“What can I do for you folks?” he asked, glancing warily at Jacob.

Serenity dismounted. “My name is Sally Cumberland,” she said, giving him the name she and Jacob had
agreed she would use during their search. “This is Jack King.”

The storekeeper arched grizzled brows. “You look like you been in the saddle some time. I got some tobacco straight from San Antonio, and some perfume for the lady, if you…”

Jacob swung out of the saddle and tossed his mount's reins over the rail. “Maybe later. You mind answering a few questions?”

“Reckon that depends,” the storekeeper said. He took a few steps back until he stood within the shelter of the doorway. “Maybe you'd like to get yourself a drink first. Saloon's three doors down.”

Serenity could hear raised voices from several buildings away. She remembered such laughter on another day, when even the sound of a male voice had frozen her with terror.

“Where is the old couple who used to work here?” Serenity asked, ignoring the man's suggestion.

“They left years ago,” the storekeeper said.

So much for that,
Serenity thought.

Jacob glanced at her, opened one of the saddlebags and pulled out Serenity's sketches, rolled up in another sheet of paper and tied with a string. He untied it and passed the loose roll to the storekeeper, who accepted it with visible reluctance.

“We want to know if you've seen these men around here anytime recently,” Jacob said. “They may go by the name Renier,” Jacob added.

Serenity noticed that the storekeeper didn't seem to want to look at the drawings too closely. “Might've
seen 'em sometime,” he said. “Months ago. I didn't see 'em too close.”

“They didn't do business with you?”

“They look like rough customers,” the man said. “There ain't much else here to interest men like these.” He thrust the drawings back at Jacob. “Can't tell you no more.”

All at once Jacob seemed to get bigger and more menacing, the wolf bristling under his skin. “You sure that's all you have to say?” he asked softly.

The shopkeeper wiped his hands on his apron. “Maybe Harrison can tell you. He runs the saloon.”

With that, he hurried back into his store and closed the door.

“He was lying, wasn't he?” Serenity asked.

“He wasn't telling the whole truth, that's for damned sure,” Jacob said. “Why don't you wait here while I go over to the saloon?”

She was just about to remind him that she could handle herself when the sound of hoofbeats coming from the west caught her attention.

Jacob swung around, hand on his gun. His nostrils flared.

“What in hell are
they
doing here?” he said.

Serenity squinted into the afternoon glare. Gradually three riders leading three barebacked horses resolved out of the haze of dust and heat, and she realized what Jacob had meant.

Caridad was in the lead, as always, her flashy black gelding kicking up a trail of dust that almost obscured the riders behind her. As she came nearer, the other
two materialized: Zora on her tough chestnut pony, and Victoria atop Avalon's biggest and strongest horse.

Serenity realized how foolish it was to be surprised. Caridad hadn't wanted her to go in the first place. She'd wanted to come along. Serenity should have known better than to believe that Cari wouldn't follow her impulses.

Caridad reined in her mount, and leaped off with all the panache and skill of an acrobat in a circus. Victoria dismounted and joined her, while Zora remained with the remaining five horses.

“Praise God!” Caridad said, striding up to Serenity and embracing her forcefully. “Zora said she could track you, but—
Madre de Dios!
I thought we would never find you.”

“What in hell did you think you were doing?” Jacob demanded, confronting Caridad. “This isn't a pleasure ride.”

“We do not need to give our reasons to you,” Caridad said with an arrogant toss of her head. “It is Serenity we came to see.”

“You shouldn't have come,” Serenity said, placing herself between the two angry warriors. “This is not your hunt.”

“We came for another reason,” Victoria said. She stepped forward with an unsealed envelope in her hand. “This arrived for you the day after you left. Cari thought it might be important, so she opened it. She decided you should see it.”

The envelope in Victoria's hand was not nearly as battered as the one Serenity had opened a month before she and Jacob had left Avalon, and this time the address
was clearly visible. It was postmarked two months after the first letter, but had reached Las Cruces in a third of the time.

Serenity took it from Victoria and stared at it with consternation. Another plea from Aunt Martha? Would Cari consider that important enough to send three women riding four hundred miles to deliver it?

“You'd better look at it,” Jacob said, “so we can get on with our business.” He looked over Victoria's shoulder at Zora, who was still waiting quietly with the horses. “We'll give you your privacy. Miss Zora, I'd like a word with you.”

The Indian woman led the horses to the rail, exchanged quick glances with Caridad and Victoria, and followed Jacob across the rutted street. Victoria went into the store, and Caridad muttered something about finding a place to make camp. She swung up in the saddle and trotted away to the north.

Feeling abandoned and very much alone, Serenity noted the decidedly masculine writing on the envelope, which matched the script inside. The text of the letter was brief and straightforward.

When she was finished reading, Serenity carefully refolded the letter, tucked it back inside the envelope and placed it in one of her saddlebags.

She looked around for Jacob and Zora. They were engaged in an intense conversation across the street, where a fallen-down fence marked an abandoned corral. She realized that this was the first time she'd seen them so close since she'd learned that both were werewolves, and her heart contracted with an emotion she didn't recognize at first.

They were the same. Despite their different backgrounds, they must understand each other far better than she could understand either of them. What were they talking about? What did they see when their eyes met?

“Are you all right?” Victoria asked from the doorway of the mercantile.

Serenity shook her head to clear it and turned to the blacksmith. “You didn't read it?” she asked.

Victoria ducked her head. “I thought Caridad should have a second opinion.”

Then she now knew far more about Serenity than she ever had before. She knew about Serenity's kin in Texas, who claimed to love her.

Once Serenity and Aunt Martha had been close, closer even than Serenity had been to her own mother. Aunt Martha had been a bit of a rebel, filled with fun, and far less somber than most in the settlement. She and Serenity had often gone out to pick wildflowers and watch the hawks soaring over the plains when the day's work was finished.

But now Aunt Martha was dying…or so Uncle Lester claimed. Serenity found it difficult to believe that so much could have changed in the mere two months that had passed between the letters. Her aunt and uncle had been anxious for her to return before, but that was all. Still, it would be strange for Quakers to lie for any reason, but if Aunt Martha was a little ill, they might justify exaggerating in hopes of luring Serenity back.

Why they should go to such trouble after so many years she didn't know, and no amount of speculation would give her the answers she sought. Now she had
a painful decision to make. She could set aside her bitterness, go home and stay with Aunt Martha, just like the dutiful child she had been before the outlaws had come. She could stifle the grief and sickness that choked her when she thought of seeing the settlement, Tolerance, again.

Or she could finish what she had started.

“Serenity?” Victoria said.

“It's all right, Vicky,” Serenity said. “I just need a little time to think.”

“Are you going to your family?”

“Jacob and I still have business in town. We must see to that before anything else can be decided.”

The blacksmith accepted Serenity's evasive answer, though her expression showed that she was far from satisfied. She gathered up the five remaining horses and led them to the water trough at the end of the street.