Moonsong (8 page)

“I’ll be right back, wait there.” Quick to fetch him a glass of water, she pressed the glass into his hand. Cutter gulped greedily, spilling against the pillow in his haste to get the cool liquid down his throat.

“More,” he demanded; his voice a little stronger. It took two more trips to slake the thirst enough for him to sip at the last glass, and she sat down gingerly on the side of the bed beside him.

“It’s normal, it’ll break tonight or tomorrow, it always does,” he grunted, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable. “More water…”

“Alright,” Amelia capitulated, bringing back two glasses of water this time in case he drained them outright like last time, but he seemed content after a couple of gulps. “I should let you get some rest then…” she started to rise, but his hand flashed out to clamp onto hers again.

“Stay with me…”

Surprised at the request, Amelia sank down beside him again. “Alright,” she agreed. “Just relax then, I’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised, reaching out to stroke his brow with her free hand. Cutter immediately eased, his head turning instinctively towards her gentle touch, the lines in his face relaxing. Before too long, he slipped into a deeper sleep, less troubled than his earlier rest, if his face was any indication. His hand grew slack in hers, and he gave no sign of stirring when she let go of him.

Reluctant to leave him after promising to stay, Millie rose carefully from the bed so as not to disturb him, moving to the sole bookcase jammed with hardbound novels, some new and some yellowed with age. Glancing over the spines, she came across another wooden figurine, with enough weight to it to be used as a bookend, even though the novels on the shelf fought for storage space. Again the attention to detail was fascinating; the figure of a wolf sitting up on its haunches was incredibly lifelike and cleverly stained to give a depth of color to its coat. The tongue lolling out gave it an almost comical look, and she found her lips curving into a smile as her fingers ran over it in appreciation.

Picking out a book she’d read before, Millie made her way back to the bed, this time moving to the opposite side where there was more room. Gingerly she climbed up beside him, propping herself up to a seated position against the carved headboard. Almost immediately Cutter turned towards her, and she could feel the heat blazing from his body as he nuzzled up close to her hip, his heavy arm atop her thighs as he settled in comfortably. Momentarily stunned by the move, Amelia shifted a little to get more comfortable, noting how difficult it was to move under the weight of that arm.

For a man who spent the better part of the afternoon pushing her away, he certainly seemed bent on keeping her at his side, and she had to smile over the shift from the grumpy man. What would his reaction be when he woke and realized the position he’d put himself in? Would the gruffness return, or had she passed some kind of unspoken test and gained acceptance from him?

Her hand fell to smooth the unruly dark hair away from his face, and he made a contented sound, almost like a sigh in his sleep. Opening the borrowed book, Amelia began to read; one hand continuing to sift through the dark locks absently, taking a measure of comfort herself in the soothing gesture.

Chapter Eight

It was on the cusp of evening when he awoke, the light filtering through the stained windows had that dying cast to it, heralding the twilight. Thoughts a little muddled upon first waking, Cutter blinked the sleep away from his eyes enough to note that the pillow he thought he’d been holding onto proved to be the lower half of a woman, his face pressed to the flare of her hip. Pulling back to get a better look at her, he found his pretty nurse fast asleep; her head lolling at an uncomfortable angle to one side, book forgotten on the bed beside her.

For long seconds he allowed himself to look his fill, taking in the delicate arch of her brows, the dark spray of lashes that fanned against her cheek, the plump lips that beckoned to him even in her unconscious state. She hadn’t left him, even though it’d been hours since he first stumbled upon her in that clearing. With a frown of dismay, he dimly recalled asking her to stay. Why had he done that? Having her there sure wouldn’t affect his healing rate in any way, why ask the poor girl to stick around? She must have been bored to death with no TV or distractions; even the book hadn’t been enough to keep her awake.

Shifting beside her, he tested his shoulder carefully. Instead of a burning sting, the pain had reduced to a dull, throbbing ache that matched the throbbing in his head from too much bourbon. From experience he knew he had to get some food into him to help replenish his stores, but for the moment he was content to lie there.

Millie’s eyes fluttered open at the movement and she stretched her neck. “Hey…” she smiled down at him, her voice husky from sleep. “Feeling better?”

Transfixed by her smile, Cutter scowled when he realized what he was doing, moving away to sit up on his side of the bed with a slight wince. “You should leave before it gets dark.”

“Dark?” her eyes went to the window. “There’s still some time before it gets full on dark, how’s your temperature?” she pressed, reaching out to touch his forehead.

Cutter shrugged away her hand, finding he craved that gentle touch. “It’s better,” he muttered, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table, downing it. “I meant what I said though; these woods can be dangerous after dark. You be more careful where you go hiking; the owner of these lands doesn’t take kindly to trespassers.”

“I’m not too worried about that, I have permission to be in these woods.”

“Permission? That doesn’t mean you don’t have something to worry about. Are you sure what kind of strings come attached to that permission?” he smirked, sipping at the second glass of water, but she met his caution with laughter.

“I hardly think she’s gonna shoot me for trespassing, I’m her granddaughter.”

Cutter went completely rigid on the bed next to her. “You’re Adele LaRoche’s granddaughter?” he asked in a tight voice, already swearing in four languages in his head as he cursed himself for not finding out who she was before allowing her into his home.

Realizing he sounded cold and irrational, Cutter swore under his breath, wondering why he cared if he hurt her feelings. “You need to leave, trust me, your grandmother doesn’t want you here or anywhere near me,” he made an effort to soften his tone of voice.

“I don’t understand, why would she care if I was here with you, you’re not some kind of axe murderer are you?” she laughed nervously.

“No,” he gave her a pained look. “Just… I wouldn’t tell her you were out here if I were you, alright?” Or maybe it would be better if she did tell Adele? Then she would likely be forbidden from returning, and his life could get back to its regular routine.

“Okay… but next time I want to know what the big deal is alright?”

Cutter caught her arm and turned her to face him, making sure to keep his hold gentle. “No Amelia, you can’t come back here. Ever,” his eyes bored into hers, absolutely serious. “Do you understand me?” Frozen by his arresting gaze, Amelia nodded mutely, her face solemn. “I’m sorry.” Not entirely certain what it was he was apologizing for; his tone, his gruff manner, or for ordering her from his home, he reached up to lightly trace the contour of her cheek. Savoring the velvety smoothness of her skin, inhaling her delicate scent, he committed her features to memory before he did the right thing and sent her on her way. “Go home, Amelia,” his tone was gentle that time.

“Thank you,” she said simply. Turning her face into his touch Millie impulsively placed a soft kiss to his roughened palm before pulling away and stepping through the open doorway.

A growl of desire rumbled deep in his chest at the swift touch of her lips, and his hand clenched tight to keep from pulling her closer once she stepped out of his grasp.
What the hell was wrong with him?
It had been far too long since a woman’s lips had given even so much as an innocent touch like that. That had to be why he felt such stirrings for a woman he should rightly hate for her relation to Adele LaRoche.

Even as he tried to put her from his mind, Cutter couldn’t help but note the way she hugged her arms tight, having lost her flannel shirt to his bandage. Did she even know how to find her way home in the woods in the fading light? With a disgusted sigh, he realized what he had to do, otherwise what good would it have done to save her that afternoon if she got herself killed on the way home?

It was going to hurt like hell but he started peeling off his clothes. With the newly healing injuries, the shift would be especially painful.

* * *

Amelia heard the howl of the wolf behind her and picked up the pace. Not completely clueless, she figured out which way was north and headed for the house, looking for familiar signs the entire way. The break in the trees revealing Gran’s back yard caught her by surprise; it only took twenty minutes to hike at a brisk clip from Cutter’s cabin to her new home. Her earlier trek must have taken her on a more meandering path.

The slam of the back door reached her ears before she had time to register the blur moving towards her, Chase’s intense gaze catching her eyes at the same time she felt the bite of his hand on her upper arm.

“Let go of my arm, you’re hurting me!” Amelia insisted, struggling to break free. “I’m not answering a Goddamn thing until you let go of me!” her chin came up pugnaciously.

Chase’s hand fell away, “Where… have… you… been?” he bit out each word, as if just barely able to control his temper and Amelia rubbed her arm where the skin still stung, scowling back at him.

“What’s wrong with you? I went for a walk, no big deal.”

“No big deal? You’ve been gone for hours, Millie.
Hours
. I was about to start a search party.”

“What for?” she frowned. “It’s not like I disappeared with a ransom note, I went for an afternoon hike. What, I can’t go for a walk on my own without it being a federal case?” The protective vibe was starting to get old fast.

“I told you to stay out of the woods.”

“No, you
asked
me to stay out of the woods at
night
. Do you see the distinction?” she replied hotly.

Chase’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the blood on her shirt. “You’re bleeding?” He started to tug her shirt up to get a look at her wounds.

“Hey… hands!” Amelia smacked at his hands, taking a step backwards. “It’s not my blood at all. I’m fine,” she insisted, holding fast to the front of her shirt.

“What do you mean it’s not your blood? Whose blood is it?” he demanded in a thundering voice.

“Stop yelling at me and maybe I’ll tell you,” Amelia yelled back at him.

“I’m not…” Chase took a breath, his voice dropping with visible effort. “By all that’s holy, Millie, you tell me where you were, what you were doing and who you were with right now or so help me…”

“You’ll what?” Amelia demanded, done with the show of macho attitude. One shared kiss did not mean he owned her, or had any say in what she did with her days or nights. “I’m going inside.” Pushing past him, she headed for the back door.

“Get back here and give me some answers,” eyes blazing, he grabbed her arm and spun her around.

“Let go of me right now or that’s the last time you’re going to touch me. Do I make myself clear?” Amelia’s voice was low and deadly serious. He might go in for that domineering bullshit but it
so
wasn’t what she was looking for in a guy.

A pregnant pause hung in the air between them, the tension thick in both of their bodies until he finally let go of her with a little shove. “Fine. Have it your way,” he muttered. Turning on his heel, Chase stalked away in the direction of the garage, throwing a punch at a large wooden post that held an elaborately carved birdhouse, hitting it hard enough to cause a permanent change in the angle of the post.

Millie watched him go, flinching when he hit the post.

* * *

Green eyes watched the exchange from the safety of the woods, waiting for her to reach the safety of the house. The dark wolf’s fur bristled when the pup’s hand grabbed her roughly, a low growl emanating from deep within its throat as he dared to touch her in anger. Slinking along the edge of the tree line, it prepared to launch across the open ground in her defense; but whatever she said to him seemed to do the trick. It watched in admiration as she drove off the other man to uselessly spend his anger against the wooden post.

Satisfied it had done its duty in seeing her safely home, the black wolf limped home to lick its wounds and find solace by the hearth, too tired to either hunt or change back to its true form.