Werewolf in the North Woods (23 page)

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Authors: Vicki Lewis Thompson

BOOK: Werewolf in the North Woods
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“I don’t know. When all is said and done, what do I really mean to you, beyond a few rounds of good sex?”
“You mean a lot more. That’s what I was trying to say when I mentioned getting attached.”
“But you won’t allow yourself to do that. Not really. You have your werewolf future and I won’t be part of that.”
“You hold my future in the palm of your hand.”
“Do I really, Roarke? Let’s say I tried to convince people that I’d been hanging out with a werewolf, and that werewolves were everywhere, especially in high society. Who would believe me?”
He gazed at her for a long time. “I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter, because you’re not the type to do something like that and risk harming others.”
He had her pegged, all right. He was safe from her, but was she safe from him? As she looked into his green eyes, she wanted to believe that he shared that same reluctance to harm others. “It’s just that you can be so glib.”
“I have a quick mind. I was born that way. But consider this, Abby. As a werewolf, I have to be constantly on the alert to protect myself and others of my kind from detection. In order to function in your world, yet maintain my other life, I need to be glib or risk exposure.”
She could see some truth in that. “But can you choose when to lie and when not to? Or do lies jump to your mind automatically?”
“I can choose. And with you, I choose to tell the truth.”
“Once I forced your hand with those pictures, you had no choice.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment of that. “True. But as you now realize, the more you know, the greater your personal danger. If I could have lied my way out of that lunchtime confrontation with you, I would have.”
“To protect yourself.”
“And to protect you.”
She regarded him silently for several seconds. Finally she sighed. “I want to believe that. All right, Roarke—I
will
believe that. I’ve trusted you with my body, and there’s no turning back on that score. My family’s known for its fertility, so if you’ve misled me, we’ll have a bouncing baby . . .
something
in nine months.”
“That isn’t going to happen.”
She didn’t want a pregnancy, either, and yet he’d just underscored the finite nature of their relationship. Someday he would have a child with another werewolf, and Abby would be a distant memory. She pretty much hated that.
She drew a calming breath. “Are you planning to allow me to see the Bigfoot pair?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” She’d have to trust him on that, too. “Then what about this Donald character?”
“Once we get close enough that I can cover the distance in about an hour as a wolf, we’ll create a distraction that keeps Donald in camp with you.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know that yet. Be thinking about it, okay?”
Despite herself, Abby began to get into the spirit of the game. “I can do that.”
“I know you can. You’re very smart. So, with you distracting him, I’ll shift, make contact with the Bigfoot pair, and set up the procedure for relocation before returning to camp and shifting back.”
“Then what?” She noticed there was no provision for getting her to the Bigfoot camp or for spiriting Donald away from it.
“I don’t know that yet, either. I’m hoping it will come to me.”
“But you
will
let me see those creatures, right?”
“You have my word. We’re in this together, Abby.”
She half expected him to pull her into his arms and try to convince her of his sincerity with a soulful kiss. When he didn’t do that, she realized he wasn’t trying to manipulate her into believing him.
“Okay, Roarke. I’ll help you as much as I possibly can.”
“Thank you.” His response was low and quiet, and he didn’t grace her with one of his oh-so-charming smiles.
Maybe she could trust him, after all. Either that or he was a lot slicker than she thought—and she already believed that he was a very, very clever werewolf.
“Well, that’s that.” She glanced around the cave. “We’d better gather up the stuff for breakfast and head outside before Donald thinks we’re in here boinking again.”
“Now there’s an idea.”
“Hey!”
He backed away, palms extended. “Just kidding. Believe it or not, I do think of other things now and then.”
She laughed. “Then that would make one of us.”
Chapter 16
 
Three hours later, as Roarke followed Donald and Abby through the forest, he could have cheerfully hoisted Donald up by his orange sweat suit and left him dangling from the nearest tree branch. The guy hadn’t stopped talking to Abby since they’d left camp. Apparently he was head of a product development team for Sony, and his endless stories of life at work gave the impression that the corporation would fold if Donald Smurtz left.
He might be wearing a primo listening device around his neck, but Roarke wondered how the guy could hear a thing through his earphones with all the noise coming out of his mouth. Roarke had never been tempted to shift into wolf form just to shut somebody up, but he was sorely tempted now.
He wouldn’t do it, but he amused himself by imagining the expression on Donald’s round face if he turned and discovered a supersized wolf walking quietly behind him. That would be one sweet moment.
Speaking of sweet moments, Roarke decided to pull out his handkerchief, ostensibly to mop his forehead. Pale sunlight filtered through the trees, but it wasn’t nearly hot enough to work up a sweat, especially at the snail’s pace Donald was setting. Still, Roarke could pretend he needed to wipe his weary brow.
Ah, yes. The musk of Abby’s aroused body improved his mood considerably. He hated to put the handkerchief away again. Then he had an inspiration. It was a generously sized handkerchief, and by stretching the opposing corners and rolling it up, he could create a sweatband.
He’d just tied the ends behind his head when Donald raised his hand like a traffic cop, as if he were Dr. freaking Livingston on safari. This was a guy who deserved to have crackers dumped in his sleeping bag, but Roarke wouldn’t do that, either. With his sweatband on, he could be mellow.
Halfway through a small meadow, Donald made a dramatic turn toward Abby and Roarke and spoke in measured tones. “My friends, the Sasquatch pair has changed course. They’re coming in our direction.”
“They’re coming toward us?” Abby spun around. “Roarke, what do you—” At that moment she must have noticed his sweatband, because her eyes widened. Then they crinkled at the corners and she slapped her hand over her mouth. She was laughing.
Roarke deadpanned her, which only made her laugh harder. He pretended to ignore her and addressed Donald. “That’s excellent news, Donald. Can you calculate how fast they’re moving?”
“Not fast at all. The sound of their progress was a steady tone as they moved in the same direction as we did, but now it’s getting louder.”
Roarke took off his new sweatband with great reluctance and tucked it in his back pocket. He needed to focus on the Sasquatch scent, and he didn’t want any olfactory distractions. Okay, now he could recognize that the faint scent was growing imperceptibly stronger.
He didn’t like admitting that Donald had been of any use when he was also a royal pain in the ass, but he had been the first one to notice that the Sasquatch pair had changed direction and were circling back. Now that Roarke agreed with Donald’s assessment, it was time to put some plans into place.
To prepare the way for those plans, Roarke would have to kiss some ass. He’d love for it to be Abby’s—literally—but sadly, it would have to be Donald’s—metaphorically.
“I’m really impressed with the efficiency of your equipment, Donald,” he said. “If you don’t have a patent on that thing, you should get one the minute you get back.”
“Don’t worry.” Donald looked extremely pleased with himself. “I wanted to field test it first, but this baby is going to make me a bundle.” He smacked the listening device vigorously and then winced and took out the ear-buds. “Forgot it was on. Powerful little thing.”
“Indeed.” Roarke fought to keep a straight face. Donald was a real piece of work. “I’d say it’s just saved us a whole lot of hiking.”
“Don’t you think we should just keep going? Unless they stop, we might sight them before dark.”
“But we don’t know what the terrain will be when that happens. Here we have a nice open meadow.”
Donald nodded approvingly. “Good thinking, Wallace. So we set ourselves up to wait, with our cameras ready, so we’re not taken by surprise. I knew you’d be a valuable asset to this operation.”
“Thanks. I also have to admit I’d like a break from hiking. You’re probably still fresh, but—”
“Oh, yeah. I could go all day.”
“Well, I can’t, and I’ll bet Abby would like to rest, too.”
“I’d be very grateful,” Abby said right on cue. “I haven’t wanted to say anything, but I scraped my thigh on a jagged branch back there, and I’m afraid to look at it. It feels as if blood’s dribbling all the way down my leg.”
“Uh-oh.”
Roarke’s stomach twisted as he hurried toward her. “You should have said something, Abby. Let me take a look.”
Donald turned pale. “
Uh
, I’ll step away, if you don’t mind. I’m not so good with blood.”
“Thanks, Donald,” Abby said. “You’ll help preserve my modesty that way, too, because I’ll have to pull my pants down to show Roarke.”
Something in her tone, something that was almost a giggle, clued him in that she might be faking. God, he hoped so. He’d asked her to start thinking, and maybe this was what she’d come up with. The thought of her bleeding profusely was simply not acceptable.
Donald wandered up the trail. “You guys let me know when you’re finished there. Sorry about being so squeamish, but I’ve been like that all my life.”
Roarke knelt in front of Abby and reached for the waistband of her Lycra pants. “Are you really hurt?” he asked in a low voice.
She leaned down. “No.”
He sighed in relief as he worked her pants down. “Good.”
“Sorry if I worried you, but I wanted your reaction to look authentic.”
“Believe me, it was authentic. The thought that you’d ripped open this soft skin . . .” He caressed the inside of her right thigh and shuddered. She shuddered, too, which stroked his ego.
“No funny business, Roarke.”
“Not even a little funny business?”
“Not now. Maybe later. Here’s what I came up with. I have a bad gash. You’ll bind it with gauze and keep checking on it the rest of the day.”
He pulled her pants down to her knees. “I like that part. God, you smell good. Which leg?”
“I don’t care.”
“Your right, then.” He raised his voice. “Damn, Abby, you should have said something! You’re a mess! ” Taking off his pack, he located his first aid kit and took out the roll of gauze.
She leaned closer. “Whenever you’re ready to intercept the Sasquatch pair, you’ll check my bandage and decide my wound’s infected and you’re leaving Donald in charge while you head back to civilization to pick up some antibiotics.”
“But nobody would prescribe—”
“Just say you have a doctor friend who will. And I have ibuprofen gel caps that should look close enough.”
“Abby Winchell, you’re brilliant.”
“Thank you.”
“Now spread your legs a little.”
“Roarke, I told you not to—”
“As much as I’d love to fool around with your warm and sexy body, I agree that now is not the time. I just need room to wind this gauze around your thigh. Do you want it closer to your crotch or your knee?”
“Closer to my crotch.”
He glanced up to find her grinning at him. “Somehow I knew you’d say that. You love to torture me, don’t you?”
“Who says you’re not torturing me?”
“I sincerely hope so.” He breathed in her special aroma as he wound the gauze around her thigh about two inches from the entrance to all things wonderful. “I’m going to recommend you rest in your tent for the rest of the day.”
“What if I get lonely?”
“I’ll check on you often.” His groin tightened at the prospect of all the times he’d have to play doctor with her today.
“I think you like my plan.”
“I’m crazy about your plan.” He reached up and pinched her butt.
“Ouch!”
“I’m so sorry, Abby!” he called out loud enough for Donald to hear. “I didn’t mean to hurt you, but it’s a really deep cut.”
“Smart aleck,” she murmured. “You could have warned me you were going to do that.”
“I wanted it to be authentic.”
“And I suppose you just had to pinch me
there.
”

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