Moonburn (22 page)

Fucking sheriff and his fucking wormwood.

His hand on my hips, Hunter pushed me against him, directing me. “I can’t get any leverage, you have to move.”

I rocked against him, aware of a rising irritation. His words, the fit of his body, my position on top of him—everything felt wrong.
Not the right mate
. It was a body thought, straight from the bundle of nerves at the base of the spine. I was no longer aroused, I was disgusted, but having gotten myself into this, I didn’t feel like I could just walk out in the middle.

“Yes, ah, Abra, yes, that’s it,” Hunter moaned, oblivious to my lack of involvement. “Oh, yes, Jesus, Magda’s so rough, I’ve missed you so much, your softness, your … move faster now, yes, come on, girl.” And then he slapped me on the ass, as if spurring on a reluctant horse.

That did it
. With a burst of anger, I stood up, sliding off Hunter just as his spine began to bow and ripple with the change.

I locked myself in the bathroom, using a washcloth and cold water to clean myself off and wishing with all my heart for a shower. There was a whining sound from outside the door, and the scratch of claws on wood as Hunter begged to be allowed in.

“Go away,” I said. “Leave me alone.”

Hunter whined again and I stared at my own reflection in the mirror. In my new glasses, I didn’t look like the same woman who had loved Hunter and would have done anything to keep him.

Funny, how changing eyeglass frames could change your whole look. I pulled my hair back into a bun at the back of my head. Now I looked sharp and clever and decisive, the kind of woman who would never be stupid enough to have sex with a man she didn’t even respect. Crap, crap, crap. I couldn’t believe how stupid I’d been. On the bright side, there couldn’t be much of a chance of my getting pregnant, but still. I wasn’t sure what disgusted me more: the thought that I’d nearly committed bestiality, or the fact that I’d just had sex with my bastard ex-husband. My only consolation was that being in estrus was like being drunk, except that there weren’t any twelve-step programs for swearing off your own hormones. I scrubbed until I smelled clean to myself, but I still didn’t
feel
clean.

Ugh. I couldn’t believe what I’d done. I felt like divorcing myself.

“Abra? You okay in there?”

Oh, great, he was human again. The only thing worse than listening to him whine would be having to talk this thing out. Then I realized: He was human again. That shouldn’t have been possible. “Hunter, how did you shift back?”

“I don’t know. I found some weird-tasting jerky and ate it, and the next thing I knew, I was standing on two feet.”

Ah, the sheriff’s wormwood werewolf treats. “I’m assuming you’re all healed?”

There was a pause. “Yes,” he said.

I stared at my own unhappy eyes in the mirror. “Then please get the hell out of here.”

I waited a few minutes, deliberately taking my time to get dressed in the clothes I’d grabbed off the floor in the other room. I brushed my hair out, pulling out strands as I yanked through the tangles and knots. It didn’t bother me. I felt like tearing my hair out. When I finally opened the bathroom door, he was still there, wearing his jeans and looking through the bookcase in a way that made my hackles rise.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“I just was looking through your books and realized that some of them are actually mine. I was wondering where the Conrad had gone to. I was just thinking of rereading
Heart of Darkness.”

“Take it.”

“Actually, I think I’ll leave it here.” He smiled, all charm and seduction. “Gives me an excuse to come back and visit.” Hunter’s hand came to rest on the small of my back.

God, he really was clueless. “Move it or lose it.”

In response, Hunter moved his hand in lazy circles at
the base of my spine, slipping under my sweatpants until they skimmed the top of my buttocks. “There. I’m moving it.”

I took his thumb and twisted it in a move Red had shown me. “Hunter. Let me make this perfectly clear. What just happened … that was a mistake. I don’t want to repeat it. Ever.” I gave him his hand back and folded my arms over my chest.

“Aw, come on, give me a break. I was injured. But it couldn’t have been that bad.” Hunter grinned rakishly, and I caught a glimpse of the Ivy League boy I had fallen in love with over a decade earlier.

“I’m not joking, Hunter. Now please, you have to go. I need to clean the floor before your blood stains it.” And I needed to find some way to get rid of the scent of sweat and semen before Red came home. Suddenly anxious, I bustled around, gathering up the remnants of Hunter’s shirt and jacket. “Keep it or toss it?”

“Toss it. I can’t see either Magda or myself getting them mended—she’s not domestic like you.”

“Is that supposed to be a dig?” I stuffed Hunter’s torn and stained clothes into a plastic bag, then double knotted it. The plastic would mask the scent a little, so Red wasn’t overpowered by it the minute he walked in the door.

“It was
supposed
to be a compliment. Sometimes I think I never appreciated all the little ways you took care of me.” Hunter’s face softened as he added, “I think about you, you know.”

I raked my hands through my hair, feeling frantic. “Hunter, you need to go home. Now.”

“In case
he
comes home? Is that what’s worrying you?” Hunter gave a harsh laugh, reaching into the bookcase and picking out a Louis L’Amour Western. “Christ,” he said, holding it up as if it were proof of infidelity,
“how can you live with a man who enjoys this crap?”

“Because he doesn’t
give
me crap.” I plucked the book from his fingers and replaced it. “And instead of going on about how much I love him, he tells me how much he loves me.” No way was I confessing any reservations about my relationship with Red to Hunter.

“So that’s it. This time around, you get to be the one in charge.” Hunter rubbed his chin. “That’s why he’s good for you. You’re more sure of yourself. More confident of your own attractiveness.” He paused, and then added, “except that you’re frightened of him right now. You’re terrified about how he’ll react if he finds me here.”

“Hunter, clearly you’re having your own issues with Magda right now, but I’m not going to discuss my love life with you.” I wet a rag in the sink, then walked back over to where Hunter sat by the fireplace. Kneeling down to scrub at the bloodstain, I felt a wave of dizziness. I closed my eyes for a moment, fighting the slow rotation of the room around me.

“You all right?”

I opened my eyes, swallowed, and couldn’t quite answer.

“Hell,” said Hunter, sounding surprised, “You’re as close to the change as I am. Maybe closer.”

I looked up at him. He’d knelt down next to me, still shirtless, and I saw that he’d put on weight in the past year, most of it muscle. The scent of his warm, bare flesh was familiar, and not unpleasant. “Damn.” I stood up, fighting another wave of light-headedness. Opening Red’s drawer, I pulled out an old flannel shirt and threw it at Hunter. “Here,” I said. “Put this on and go.”

Hunter caught the shirt and looked at it consideringly. “It’s too small. Red’s kind of on the short side, for a guy.”

I gritted my teeth. “Put it on anyway.”

Hunter slid his arms through the shirt, but left it unbuttoned. “I thought Red didn’t want me getting my smell on his stuff.”

“Trust me, he’d rather you wear his shirt than walk around half naked.”

“If half naked’s a problem, I could always take off all my clothes.”

“God, no.” I braced myself against the dresser. The thought of getting naked with him again made me feel slightly nauseated.

Hunter stood up and closed the distance between us. “You only think that from the neck up.”

“Well, that’s the part that makes the decisions.” I didn’t want to insult Hunter, but my stomach was really rebelling now, telling me in the most visceral way possible that he was not the one.

“Or maybe not,” said Hunter, reaching down to cup my crotch.

“Stop it, Hunter, I said no!” Acting on instinct, I shoved him so hard that he bounced off the dresser, upsetting an oil lamp.

“Oh, crap,” I said, but managed to catch the lamp and set it right before anything caught on fire. From atop her perch, Ladyhawke flapped and gave an angry squawk. I wondered if, in a pinch, she might actually come to my defense.

“Jesus, woman, what is wrong with you?” Hunter raked one hand through his floppy brown hair, a gesture I had once adored.

I crossed my hands over my chest, trying to breathe through the cramping in my stomach. “You had a fight with Magda, didn’t you? That’s why you were wandering around out here. What did you think, I’d take you back?”

“I figured you sort of owed me, since in a sense it was
partially your fault.” The trace of a British accent was back in Hunter’s voice. At one time, I thought it was a remnant of the time he’d spent in England as a teenager. These days, I felt pretty sure it was an affectation, since it seemed to come and go.

“All right, that’s it,” I said. “Time for you,” I poked him in the chest, “to go.” I pointed at the door.

“You didn’t ask me to explain,” Hunter murmured, curling his fingers around my hand and pulling me against his chest.

“There is no explanation! Hunter, your problems with your girlfriend have nothing to do with me. You left me, remember?” Using both hands, I started to push him toward the door.

Hunter braced his legs. “Not true, strictly speaking.”

“Fine, I left you after I learned that you’d been screwing Magda
and
the cute barmaid from Moondoggie’s.”

Hunter shook his head, looking bemused. “You know, I don’t understand your attitude about that. Magda doesn’t care about my little dalliances.”

“Congratulations. You’re soul mates. Wouldn’t want to keep you apart.” I reached for the door handle.

“She’s jealous of
you
, though.” He said it seductively, as if he were offering me a compliment.

“Not my problem, Hunter. Although I’d appreciate it if you let her know it’s not me standing in the way of a divorce.”

Hunter’s eyes, which had begun to lighten and subtly alter shape, suddenly went dark and human. “Don’t you have any regrets, Abra? We’ve been through so much together. And when you were pregnant …”

“When we thought I was pregnant, you refused to touch me because you were busy screwing Magda on the sly.”

Hunter put his hand on my shoulder. “Only because I didn’t want to hurt you, or the baby, Abs. Don’t you
ever think, if only our transition had occurred a little closer together … or, hell, maybe even if they’d been further apart …” his voice trailed off.

“What I think is that if you hadn’t become a werewolf, I might never have noticed what a pig you really are.” I opened the door, and snow swirled in. It was almost a blizzard, but Hunter could handle that. “Now, I want you to leave.”

“Like this?” He indicated the flimsy protection of Red’s open flannel shirt, the trickle of blood from the wound on his arm, the snow piling up in the gap of the open door. Crap. He must have reopened the cut when he bounced off the wall. Then I realized how I was being played.

“Nice try. Just step outside and take off your pants—you’ll heal when you shift. And you’re not going to freeze when you’ve got your fur coat on.”

Hunter’s eyes remained fixed on mine: a challenge. “Suppose I say I don’t want to?”

We stood there for a moment, at an impasse. Snow blew into my eyes, but I didn’t want to close the door. Hunter had his stubborn face on, and I didn’t know how to convince him to leave. If we had been in wolf form, then the differences in our size and strength would not have been as great.

And with that thought, the balance of power shifted. I don’t know what Hunter had seen in my face, but he suddenly reached out and grabbed my hair in a thick bunch at the back of my neck. “I’ve been too nice, haven’t I?” His fist tightened on my hair, not really hurting, but tugging enough to control me. “I forgot the kind of games you like to play.” Using my hair as a leash, Hunter brought me in closer. “My little submissive girl. I’ve missed you.”

I struggled in his grip. “Hunter, I’m not playing anything with you.”

“A little defiance—I like that. What do you say to the idea of being forced against your will, pretty girl?” He said it, not as a threat, but in a seductive whisper. It had been a long time since we’d spiced up our love life with a little role playing, and Hunter had forgotten some of the rules. Sounding like a sleazy Don Juan was definitely a deal breaker. On the other hand, real menace wouldn’t have worked with me, either. The truth was, you couldn’t play sex and power games with someone you didn’t trust. Or at least, I couldn’t. And I didn’t trust Hunter anymore.

Misinterpreting my silence, Hunter grinned wolfishly. “What do you say to me having my wicked way with you?”

My reply was cut short by the creaking of the door as it was pushed wide open.

We both turned to see the snow-covered figure standing in the doorway. “I’d say you’d be making a mistake.” It was Red, looking like Davy Crockett in a fur hat, his sheepskin collar pulled up against the snow and his twelve-gauge Browning automatic slung over his shoulder. Hunter had released his grip on my hair the minute the door had opened, and I nearly threw myself into Red’s arms with relief. Then I saw the expression on his face, or rather the lack of one, and realized what Red’s hat was made out of: raccoon fur.