Moonburn (25 page)

I took a shaky breath and opened my eyes. The room was still dark, the flame from the oil lamps oddly blurred, and I felt confused and disoriented. Magda was still on top of me, but now there was a big knife jammed up against her throat. I blinked, trying to clear my eyes and my head, because I couldn’t see who was holding the knife. I took another shaky breath. I swallowed, realizing how badly my throat hurt.

“Get up off her first.” Red’s voice was calm, and I realized that he was standing behind Magda, holding the knife pressed up against her jugular.

I watched as Magda carefully swung one long leg around. She was moving as carefully as a dancer, so as not to move her neck and effectively cut her own throat. I took another painful breath and drew myself upright, trying to take stock of the situation. My glasses had been knocked off. I felt around and located them on the floor behind my left elbow, mercifully unbroken.

Putting the glasses back on my face, I looked around the room. Hunter was lying apparently unconscious near the door. There was a dark mark, presumably a bruise, on his temple. I looked up and saw that Red had retrieved
his long rifle, which was resting up over his shoulder, while his free hand held the knife to Magda’s throat. Apparently, Red had used the rifle stock as a club. I had for gotten about the knife he always carried in his back pocket—it was more of a backwoods utensil than a weapon.

“Well, Virgil? Going to kill me with that knife?” Magda tilted her head back against Red’s crotch. I felt a momentary bewilderment; I had never heard Red’s real name said out loud, although I’d seen it on official documents.

“I’m contemplating it.”

“Because if not, I would like to get up. Your erection is poking me in the head.”

Red released Magda, and she gave him a measured look as she got to her feet. “I am not often mistaken in my judgments, but in your case—You are not what I expected.”

With a flick of his wrist, Red folded the knife and tucked it into his back pocket. “It’s not for you.”

“Pardon?’

Red just looked at her with hooded eyes, as if his torn and faded jeans didn’t reveal exactly what he meant.

For a moment, I thought Magda was going to attack Red, but then her gaze flicked to Hunter, who was just beginning to stir on the floor.

“Fine,” Magda snapped, pushing Red away. “I would not want to breed mongrels, in any case.”

“Hey, honey, I think I’m being insulted,” Red said, looking at me for the first time. “You okay?” Underneath the casual tone, I detected another, more serious note.

I nodded, which made my thoat hurt. “Peachy.” I pointed at Hunter, who was coughing up blood. “I’m not so sure about him, though.”

“He’s fine,” Red assured me. “Probably just swallowed a tooth.”

He held my gaze and I drew in a shuddering breath, and there was that scent again, a drugging blend of herbs and forest and the warm musk of pheromones.

“Come on, Hunter,” Magda said in her commandant’s voice, holding out her hand. “Let us leave them to their rutting.”

“But I thought you didn’t want her to get pregnant,” said Hunter, allowing Magda to help him upright. He didn’t sound as disoriented as I would have expected, and it occurred to me that he’d been faking unconsciousness to avoid having to fight Red again.

“It does not matter,” said Magda, her voice tight with restrained fury. “Even if she does manage to conceive, it won’t last.” Turning to me, she added, “Have I mentioned that my brothers are coming from Romania to join our little family? You, on the other hand, are just two.”

With that, Magda pushed Hunter out the door, which slammed behind them.

And then we were alone. The fire crackled behind the grate, and the windowpanes rattled from the wind, as if to emphasize just how isolated we two were. There were no constraints now; we could couple like animals. Or Red could kill me for cheating.

Red set down his rifle, and my heart began to race. As I watched him approach me, my nearsighted eyes played a trick on me, and I saw two images of my lover juxtaposed against each other, the one familiar and beloved, the other mysterious and unpredictable.

I swallowed and licked my lips, trying to think of something to say as Red stood and looked down at me. The Red I knew would have made a joke, or stroked my face, dispelling my tension. But the Red I knew should not have been able to take out Hunter and Magda. He
certainly hadn’t been that strong last year, which made me wonder what had changed.

“The door’s over there.” Red’s face was unreadable. “You want to leave? Leave. I ain’t going to stop you.” And with that, he turned and went over to his rifle, which he started to clean with all the loving care he’d once lavished on me.

“There’s a blizzard outside,” I said. “What am I supposed to do, go knock on Hunter and Magda’s door?”

“I didn’t say I was throwing you out.” Red opened the rifle’s barrel and removed the bullets. “Stay, if you want.”

“You’re mad at me.”

“Yeah. But you don’t have to keep flinching. I’m not planning on doing anything about it.” Red perched himself on the back of the couch and set about dismantling the rifle. I wondered if he was just doing it to keep his hands busy, or if he felt safer confronting me without a loaded gun in the room.

“I don’t understand, Red.”

“I haven’t been honest with you.” Red looked up. “And you haven’t been honest with me.”

I took a deep breath, forced myself to say it. “If you’re referring to what happened with Hunter, that wasn’t anything to do with you.”

Red slammed his beloved twelve-gauge Browning down so hard that I flinched. “The hell it didn’t. If you were really my woman, you wouldn’t have let that bastard within two feet of you. But he got a lot closer than that, didn’t he?”

“You didn’t seem upset before,” I said, recognizing the stupidity of my words even as they left my mouth. What was it my mother had said? Something along the lines of, he’s the type who will never forgive you if you give Hunter one for old times’ sake.

Red gave a harsh, humorless laugh. “You mean, I
didn’t seem pissed off while Hunter and Magda were breathing down our necks? Christ, Abra, what did you want me to do—show weakness in front of the enemy? Prove that we don’t have a united front?” Red looked down at his gun, and when he looked up, there was a sheen of tears in his eyes. “I can’t believe you let him touch you. I can’t believe you let him inside of you.”

I wanted to run up to Red and put my arms around his neck. But there were cords of tension standing out on his neck, and the muscles of his arms were bunching convulsively, so I didn’t make a move toward him. “I’m so sorry, Red.”

“I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you.” I swallowed. “I’m not saying this excuses it, but he was injured, and the only way I could think of to heal him fast was to get him to change. But I guess a little bit of me must still have been clinging to the past.” I watched a muscle jump in Red’s clenched jaw. “I can tell you this—I’m not clinging to the past anymore.”

Red’s hazel eyes held mine, and there was no hint of tears or tenderness or humor in them anymore. And then, as if someone had cut something loose, he sagged. “It’s because of what I am, isn’t it?” He clasped his hands at the base of his neck and hung his head. “Crap. I’m not good enough for you.”

“Red, no!” This time, I did go to him, putting my arms around him, trying to get him to lift his chin. “I would never think that.”

“Maybe I think it. Maybe Magda’s not all wrong about the Limmikin.” Red was looking at me now, but with a taut, pinched expression I had never seen before. “My mother was the kind of woman men take for granted. She was always trying to fit in with some new guy’s idea of the right way to live. By the time I was twelve, I was just another guy giving her a hard time.”

I didn’t say anything. Red had told me other versions
of this story, but I knew that he’d been leaving things out.

“I went to live with my grandfather, which was the first time I heard about being Limmikin. Mom used to say she was Mohawk, but that was like gypsies telling people they’re Romanian or Spanish or whatever. Anyway, Granddad pretty much lived on his own, in a cabin out in the woods. We spent more time as wolves than we did as people. After he died …” Red smiled, a bitter twist of his lips. “Let’s just say that I got to know the rest of my family a little too well. Tricksters, all of them. Liars without equal. Hell, they lie so well, half the time they don’t even know when they’re doing it.” He paused. “I spent nearly two years with my grandad’s clan. Moved from town to town, crossing between Canada and the States. Worked as a contractor, taking people’s money and not delivering. Doing a shit job, cutting corners, sometimes just making stuff up. I bilked people, Doc. Good people. Newlyweds. Old folks.” He hesitated, then went on. “One time I stuck around longer than usual because I’d met some outside girl, and I learned that one of my crap repairs killed a man. That’s when I left the family, started traveling on my own.”

“That’s when you became a shaman,” I said, realizing.

“I keep telling you and Jackie, I’m not Siberian, and that’s not the right word.”

I felt a stab of jealousy. “Does Jackie know all this?”

Red shook his head. “Never wanted anyone to know I was a con man and a criminal. Don’t even know why I’m telling you this, Doc.” He rubbed his hand through his short hair. “Guess you deserve to know, though.”

I pushed my forehead against his. “You’re telling me because you want to know whether I can love the real you. But whatever you did in the past … you left that
life behind. You’re not like that now.” I wasn’t completely sure that I believed that, but the urge to console and heal was too strong to ignore.

“I’m still guilty of the things I’ve done.”

“You’ve tried to make up for them,” I pointed out. “You’ve tried very hard to be a good man.” And now I knew that I was telling the truth. Whatever his former crimes, Red was one of the good guys now.

And then I remembered the night he’d changed and Rocky had disappeared.

Red’s hand came up to cup the back of my head, and we stayed like that for a moment, brow touching brow. “Then why would you let that shit you married inside your body, Doc?”

“It was a mistake.”

His hand still holding the back of my head, Red drew back that crucial few inches, allowing me to see his face again. “Well, I sure as shit ain’t perfect, so I got no right to blame you for slipping up. And I don’t hold it against you—what happened. I do want to wipe the damn smell of him off you, though. And I know just one way to do that.” He reached for me, and I tensed.

“Ah. So, maybe I’m not the only expert liar in this room.” As Red half rose to leave, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

“No! No, don’t leave, I just … Before we make love, there’s something I have to know.”

His face was closed and hard, disbelieving. “What?”

“That new hat you’re wearing … is it Rocky?”

I saw that this was not the question he’d been expecting. After a moment, Red shook his head. “A smart raccoon can outwit a seasoned hunting dog, sweetheart. They know how to split their trail up, lay false leads, lose their scent in running water. But if he stayed with us any longer, Rocky wasn’t going to live to be a smart raccoon. I had to chase the little guy off. It was his time to
go.” He went over to the hat, picked it up, and showed it to me. “This here hat’s from a bit of roadkill I salvaged.”

Well, that was … woodsmanlike of him. I shivered as Red put down the hat and traced his finger down my throat, trying to remember what else I should be asking. The elusive forest smell of him had warmed until it permeated the whole room. It was so delicious, I wanted to roll myself around in it.

“Hey, Doc.”

“Yes?”

“Stop thinking so damn much.”

And then Red was holding my head in his hands and kissing me with a raw hunger that had me pulling him down on top of me, my legs coming up around him to press his hips down so that his erection pressed against me through the layers of his torn jeans and my sweatpants. I rubbed against him, too aroused to release him for a moment, but Red hauled himself up on his elbows, grunting with the effort as he yanked my pants down around my hips. I struggled in his grip, wanting the friction and the contact back, more aroused than I had ever been in my life.

“Hang on, sweetheart, I’m not trying to get away.” Moving far too slowly, Red pressed his lips against my belly, kissing his way down while I protested, trying to pull him back up.

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Like hell I don’t.”

“I don’t want you to do that right now.”

Red met my gaze, and I saw that he understood perfectly. I’d washed, but I still felt as if I’d been tainted by Hunter’s touch. “Yeah, well, maybe this is about what I want. And I want to roll around in you.” Red knelt in front of me, one hand parting me so that he could breathe against the sensitive flesh between my thighs.
Pulling me to the edge of the bed and draping my legs over his shoulders, Red kissed me there, his tongue probing, tasting, thrusting inside, then finding the swollen bud and suckling until I cried out.

Red levered himself up and unbuttoned the fly of his jeans. I could feel the blunt head of his penis at my entrance, and stopped struggling and closed my eyes. But Red just remained as he was, braced over me on trembling arms.

“Hey, Doc … You better put me inside. I’m not at my best here.”

I frowned at him, confused.

“My control … I might hurt you.”

I planted my heels and said, “Hurt me.” I meant it as a joke, sort of, but Red gave me a look of near anguish, and then he thrust into me so hard I gasped. He pulled out, but instead of stopping or apologizing, Red slammed into me again, and I lifted myself to meet him. “Abra. Shit.” He paused, the ropy veins around his biceps standing out as he braced himself over me. “Should I … do you want me to …”

I seized him by the hair and kissed him so hard our teeth clicked together. I felt change and orgasm gathering force, and the wild scent of woods and man was filling the room, so that, with my eyes closed, I could believe that we were outside in the forest.