Shadow on the Moon (24 page)

It would kill her, of course, and
she was helpless to prevent it. Had she not been so terrified and awestruck,
she might have laughed at the irony. In seconds she would become prey to a version
of the animal she'd worked so hard to protect.

Now it was close. So close she
could feel its breath, hear the faint sounds as it inhaled and exhaled. She
licked her lips, tasted tears she hadn't known were flowing, and backed against
the wall. Metal hit her injured shoulder. She flinched, heard a clank, jerked
her head.

Omigod! Chains. They were touching
her, falling across her shoulders. Huge mawing manacles dangled just inches
from her arms. She hugged the gown more tightly, wondering if the thing would
hang her from the wall and torture her into insensibility.

A hand reached out; silky fur
grazed her cheek.

"Please," said the
creature with incredible gentleness.

The imploring word broke Dana's
paralysis. Strength returned to her legs. Her scream erupted, high and shrill.
She dropped the gown and spun away from the thing, diving for the propped-open
door.

A hand gripped her arm, then
slipped away. Dana tumbled. Time dragged as the floor rushed up to meet her.
She felt every whirl of her flailing arms, every lurch of her airborne legs,
and she reached for the chair, hoping to halt her fall.

Her hand came upon a wad of spongy
nylon, closed around it as if it alone could save her. A shoulder crashed into
a chair leg, struck the floor. She felt her wound tear open; something trickled
down her skin. Rolling, she ignored the spark of pain. The chair wobbled, then
fell and clattered on the floor of the other room.

The inner door swung shut, leaving
only the moon to light the room. The creature loomed above her, blocking even
that.

Dana curled her fingers into the
downy nylon and encountered a small, hard cylinder. At the most visceral level,
she knew she had little chance of surviving, but she wasn't going easily. She
scooted back, strained into a sitting position, and dug frantically for what
she knew was in the pocket.

She came out with the paper vial
just as her back hit the wall. Snapping it open, she threw it, then brought the
jumpsuit to her face.

The beast gasped and choked, then
fell back with a shudder, but didn't attempt to bat the capsule away. It fell
to floor, filling the room with its acrid scent.

Just as it had happened with the
white beast, this one's fur melted in front of Dana's eyes. In seconds, the
jutting brow receded, the golden eyes grew closer. Height diminished. Soon,
Dana saw a beard, thick dark eyebrows with a deepening crease between them.

"Morgan?" She hardly
realized she'd called his name.

He inclined his head gravely,
picked up the broken capsule, and threw it out the door. Even as he turned
back, his height increased, fur returned, eyes receded. All the while he
groaned, nearly doubling up, as if in great pain.

Shielding herself behind the
jumpsuit, Dana stared up and pulled her legs to her chest

Someone whimpered. Something roared
like a river. She heard it clearly, but it came from so far away. Then she
knew. Her own cries. Her own racing pulse.

Oh, to die at Morgan's hand. The
greatest irony of all.

Then his groans ceased. He
straightened, and Dana saw the full extent of his size. His head almost touched
the ceiling. A squeeze of one clawed hand would crush her skull.

Now he was above her, gazing down,
head tilted. Something reflected in the moonlight beneath his eyes.

He was crying.

Dana looked into his sorrowful eyes
and knew then, with absolute clarity, that no matter what he did, she did love
him and would continue to do so for eternity. A huge sob gathered in her chest
and burst forth into soul-racking tears.

He bent over. Dana prepared herself
to die.

The blow didn't come. Instead, a
powerful arm slipped beneath her knees. Another moved behind her back. The
floor receded and she felt herself pulled against a scratchy wool-covered
chest. The rough fabric felt oddly normal, and Dana huddled against it, heard
his strong heart thrumming in her ears.

He took her to the bed, laid her
gently down, then went to close the door.

Night-blind now and totally without
defense, Dana wrapped into a rigid ball. Soft footfalls approached the bed, and
she sensed his presence just above her. Fabric rustled against fabric.

"Perhaps," he said in a
pained voice, "you won't find me as repulsive in the dark."

One of Dana's hands slipped off her
knees; the tension in her body eased a bit.

Repulsive?

Terrible and beautiful, yes.
Majestically fearsome. A being like no other, combining qualities of both the
species she adored. But never, not once through this entire nightmare, had she
thought him repulsive.

But all she could do was stutter,
"N-n-no."

* *
*

For Morgan, the room had plentiful
light. It seeped under the doors, fell from minute cracks in the ceiling. And
in that light, he gazed upon Dana and wondered exactly what she meant.

He wished he could see into her
soul as clearly as he saw her trembling body. According to Lily, this was a
werewolf's shining moment, when at last a human cringed in fear below him.
Sweet and fulfilling, she had promised. But he now knew that wasn't true.

And he wished with all his heart
that he hadn't learned it by terrorizing Dana. Carefully, he lowered himself to
the bed. His weight was a dangerous thing. If he sat too quickly, he might
throw Dana onto the floor.

"Do you?" he asked.

"W-w-hat?"

"Think I'm repulsive."

The silence lay heavy in the dark
room and nearly broke his heart. He felt a whimper roil in his throat, swallowed
it.

"You . . . you frighten
me."

"If I'd intended to hurt you .
. ." Mindful of his sharp claws, he ran a hand along her rigid shoulder.
Her shudder caused another hurtful stab. "Relax, Dana," he crooned,
giving his heartache no attention. "You're safe with me, always
safe."

She started sobbing again.

With all the tenderness he
possessed, Morgan took her hand and pulled it to his body.

"Stroke me, Dana." He
knew she had no idea of the courage he'd drawn on to make that request.

Dana tugged futilely against his
hold. Although he didn't force her closer, he also didn't release his grip.
Soon she stopped struggling, put a tentative hand on his thigh. Morgan sighed.

She let her hand rest there for a
long while, saying nothing, sobbing occasionally. Then, with obvious caution,
she moved her fingers slowly down his leg.

"Soft," she said, wonder
evident in her tearful voice. "Soft and silky."

She backtracked, let her fingers
dwell on the curve of his thigh, stroking with loving tenderness. Then her hand
reached the vee of his thighs. A finger touched his testicles, brushed against
his stirring erection.

"You're just like a man,"
she said in a startled voice.

"In that way, yes."

Her hand lingered momentarily, then
moved on. His heartbeat quickened, a deep breath left his lungs. As much as he
feared the answer, he must ask the question.

"Now that you know my true
self, can you love me, Dana?"

He sensed her hesitation as she
lifted her hand from his leg.

"I don't . . . know."

Morgan let out an involuntary
groan.

She sat up abruptly, groping in the
dark. He saw the tiny half-moons of her nails, the dusting of fine hair on her
arm. Then her fingers reached his cheek, stopped, rested.

"You're crying. . . . Oh,
Morgan, I'm so sorry."

 
She dropped her hand, brought it to her mouth,
and licked his tears from her fingers. "Salty, just like mine," she
said.

"I am so much like you, sweet
Dana. You cannot know." He put his hands on her shoulders and pressed her
slowly back to the bed. She didn't resist. "It's more than I could hope
for that you'd love a monster like me. But if you can't, please, for this
night, let me love you."

She shivered so violently he jerked
his hands back.

He had failed.

But please, sweet Venus, he
pleaded, if only once, let her hold me, feel her body under mine, her touch on
the beast I am. By that alone I will be redeemed.

And in his prayer, he promised to
return her to safety the next day, then walk to the edge of Ebony Canyon and
assure he'd never harm a single mortal.

"Undress me, Morgan."

Her surprising request startled
Morgan and filled him with mixed emotions. He'd schemed for this all along. The
ritual could not succeed until they bonded as man and woman. But now, thinking
of the danger, his heart quailed.

When he finally touched her, he
realized her trembling came from need even greater than his. In awe, he lifted
her shirt over her head, drew down her loose fleece pants, her pleasingly silky
undergarment. When his claws scraped gently across her skin, she moaned as if
in pleasure.

He rolled her to lie on her belly,
and she moved pliantly beneath his hands. Little sounds came from her mouth,
but these were not from tears or terror.

Dear Venus, protect us both.

When he climbed to straddle her,
holding his weight so as not to crush her fragile body, she twisted, snaked an
arm around his neck, and pulled his mouth to hers. Hungry noises purred in her
throat, she drew her tongue along the edges of his sharp, deadly, fangs, almost
daring him to draw blood.

For that instant, Morgan gave in to
her passion. He suckled her tongue violently, only barely mindful he might harm
her. Tasting a faint drop of blood, he started to draw away, but she only
whimpered and drove her tongue more deeply into his mouth. He placed his hands
on the sides of her legs, bared his claws and began lightly pulling them up her
body.

She writhed deliciously beneath
him. Then, with a greedy cry that excited Morgan beyond reason, she broke the
kiss. Shifting frantically, she pulled her knees beneath her, shoved her
perfect little bottom against him, and put a cool hand around his large
erection. Only the same strong will he used to restrain unwanted alchemization
kept him from exploding at her exquisite touch.

"Oh!" Her tone held
surprise and alarm.

"You cannot take me," he
said, breathing into the delightful curves of her ear, knowing what provoked
her exclamation. He was much larger and fuller than a human male.

She shuddered, whether from desire
or fear, Morgan could not tell. Then she spread her knees wider, moving him
against the edges of her dilated opening. Moist and smooth it was, and hot, so
hot. The contrast between heated womanhood and cool fingers sent electric
sensation through Morgan's body.

He reached down to where they
touched, felt warm juices flowing between her parted legs, ached so badly to
have her, he thought he might die.

With a quick move of her hand and
another clever thrust of her hips, she pushed his fingers away, tried to sheath
him. But Morgan grabbed her wrists, pinned them to the bed, then pressed
himself against her back and rained kisses on her neck.

Now she bucked beneath him,
heedless of his power to hurt her, seeking the length of him, striving to
engulf him. He straightened, held her hips, refusing to let her have what she
sought.

The muscles of her back flexed and
fell with her every thrust. Moans of desire came from her mouth.

Exquisite, painfully exquisite, to
be between her legs, yet deny what they both so badly wanted. And despite his
fear of hurting her, Morgan could barely resist the temptation to give it to
her.

Then his earlier question reentered
his mind, cooling his passion. He'd sworn-an oath to Venus. He must not ask
again. If she answered differently this time, fate would be set in motion.

He told himself this—but without
success. "Can you not love me, Dana?"

She stopped moving. He stroked the
gentle swell of her bottom, letting his claws graze lightly, oh, so lightly.
With another moan, she jutted up and tried to take him again. Once more he
stilled her movements.

Then he started moving. Slowly,
very slowly. Up and down, sliding himself against her swollen mound. She
screamed with pleasure so intense Morgan felt it in his soul.

Convulsions racked her body. He
held her hips, bent to kiss the smooth skin of her trembling back, wanting to
hear her answer, wanting not to hear it, struggling not to release his own
need.

Time passed. Sparks of her climax
still convulsed her body. Finally came moments of stillness. Occasionally she
circled her hips. Her breathing slowed.

Giving one last satisfied sigh, she
spoke. "Yes, Morgan, I love you."

He felt as if a beam of pure golden
light had passed through him, providing him with an inner sense of calm.
Suddenly, his teeth lost their jagged edges. Hair melted from his limbs.
Fingernails replaced his claws.

Passion, so intense he knew it
might never be fulfilled, accompanied his restored humanity. With joyful fury,
he drove himself inside her, deep, deep as he could. She was still hot and wet
and wanting him, and his violent thrusts renewed her passion. He felt her
tighten, and blood engorged him to such fullness as he had never known.

"Dana," he whispered
hoarsely. The cry escaping his throat was met by hers. Long and high and
joyful, mingling in the night, filling the room with love. Morgan fell onto her
trembling body, thinking he'd never heard a sweeter sound.

And also bittersweet.

Because nothing could stop fate
now.

Chapter Twenty

Morgan smiled lazily and rolled to
take Dana in his arms. He hit an empty space. Instantly, he came awake and
listened for footsteps in the front room. But all was silent. Daylight streamed
through the open bedroom door, and Morgan scanned the room for Dana's clothes.
They were gone. So was the jumpsuit.