Things That Go Hump In The Night (36 page)

Ryan whimpered again, the sound tearing at my insides. "Don't hurt him," I whispered.

Simon shushed him. "You know it is much better to dress wounds while you're in fox form, Master Ryan." He pulled the first aid kit across the table and got to work cleaning and wrapping Ryan's wound.

"Excuse the master," he said kindly, as he dabbed at Ryan's matted fur, while Ryan panted. "If he's exerted himself a great deal, it takes him a few minutes to gain the strength to shift back to human form, especially when he has been injured."

"I understand," I breathed, gulping down the scotch, enjoying the warmth as it circled my throat. "I'm a little tapped of strength myself."

Simon got up, took my empty glass, and poured me another drink. He handed that to me, and then filled another two glasses, raising one to his own lips. "I hope you don't mind scotch. Ryan has his particular tastes, of course, and we don't often have visitors, so I don't have much on hand."

I only nodded; staring at the fox slumped beside the door, panting as he licked at his wound. My stomach clenched tight.
Oh, Ryan, please be okay.

The whisky was starting to take effect, warming me from the inside out. The sting in my shoulder subsided into a dull ache. Simon and I sat opposite each other, drinking in silence, watching the fox try to tug off the bandage, waiting for Ryan the human to materialise.

"You can touch him," said Simon kindly.

I set down my drink, and knelt beside Ryan. His breathing was laboured, and he stared at me with large brown eyes, filled with pain. I reached out a hand toward him, letting him sniff it, nudging it with his snout. He snorted, his warm breath tickling my hand, and I smiled, despite my fear. I leaned down, reached around his neck, and hugged him to me, running my hands through his thick, soft fur, feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath. I buried my head in his fur, taking in the woody scent of him. "Please come back to us, Ryan," I said, feeling my tears fall against him. "I choose you."

Slowly, in my arms, I felt the fox begin to change. Beneath his fur, Ryan's bones were reforming, elongating and twisting to become human limbs. His fur shrunk away, revealing warm, clammy flesh. I held tight to him as his body twisted under my touch, and in a few moments, I was holding Ryan the human,
my
Ryan. He raised his arms and embraced me in return.

"You are safe," he breathed into my ear, his naked skin warm against me. "That is what matters."

I laughed, tears streaking my face. "You had me worried there for a minute, when you wouldn't change back."

"I'm here now," he said, stroking my hair. I rested my head on his shoulder.

"Master?" I looked up. Simon was standing above us, holding out a warm robe.

Ryan looked up at his butler. "Thank you once again, my friend." he said, his voice unusually tender. Reluctantly, I moved away from him so he could pull the robe over his muscled shoulders, drawing it closed over his sculpted chest, covering his beautiful body. "My bandage is now a little tight. If you could look at that, and then check the windows and doors, make sure the protections are still in place."

I extracted myself from Ryan's grasp so Simon could re-bandage his leg. I watched as he removed the bandage, my stomach turning as I saw the long gashes splitting the skin. Simon had neatly stitched them up, but they still looked bad.
Poor Ryan.
My shoulder wound hadn't been bad enough to need stitches.

When Simon was finished, he helped Ryan to his feet, and handed him an ornately carved wooden cane to help him support his leg. "I'll leave you in Ms. Kline's capable hands," he said, then left.

Ryan grinned at me, his knuckles white as he gripped the cane. "Well, that was some adventure," he said, pulling on the collar of his robe.

"It certainly was."

"You were hurt." He looked so serious.

I showed him the shoulder wound. "I assume that wolf was Isengrim? Why didn't Clara's protection spell work on him? Why was he able to touch me?"

"He's strong enough to push through it," Ryan said. "Although not strong enough to do any real damage. If you hadn't been wearing that charm, he would've eviscerated you right there."

I winced. "How delightful. How about you? Are you in an awful lot of pain?"

"I've had worse," he grunted, as he shuffled toward me. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to talk
at all
."

He narrowed the space between us in a flash, and once again I found myself lost in those wide, brown eyes. He reached up with his free hand, and grazed my cheek, his fingers dancing over my temple, stroking my forehead, cupping my chin. My breath caught in my throat. I didn't want him to stop.

He held my chin up and leaned in closer, his lips brushing mine.
Soft, so soft and tender
. Not like the kiss earlier in the evening. Not what I expected from his eyes filled with lust and passion. Gently he prised open my lips, and his tongue entwined with mine. My whole body coursed with warmth, aching for him to touch me, to take me rough and wild.

Ryan reached up with his hands to cup my cheeks, pulling me closer. I leaned against him, pressing my body against his. A moan escaped my lips as he slid one arm across the small of my back, lifting my shirt so he pressed his palm against my skin.

His fingers crept up my spine, reaching up to unclasp my bra.
Yes, yes!
I wanted him so badly, wanted to feel the warmth of his fingers all over me. I kissed him more forcefully, my tongue exploring the depths of his mouth, inviting him deeper into mine.

The next thing I knew, his wounded leg buckled beneath him and he fell heavily against me, his teeth knocking against mine as we collapsed in a heap on the floor.

"I guess I can't put as much weight on this leg as I thought," he smiled weakly, wincing as he picked himself up and held out a hand for me. He stared me up and down, no doubt taking in my dishevelled appearance, wild hair, sodden, dirty clothes, and bandaged shoulder.
Is he rethinking his passion?

"Ryan–" I began.

With a look of determination on his face, he snatched up his cane, and grabbed my hand, dragging me through the drawing room into another long, dark hallway. He kicked a door open, and yanked me inside.

Ryan flicked on the light, and I gasped in awe. We stood in an opulent bedroom decorated in an elaborate, sensual style. Red velvet drapes hung from the curtains, held back with gold ties. In the centre of the room stood a large oak bed covered in red silk sheets and gold pillows, while above it, hanging from the ceiling, were two large, gilded mirrors. I felt a shiver of excitement run down my spine as I wondered what it would be like looking up into those mirrors.
Is this where we would–

Ryan hobbled across the room and threw open a closet door, revealing row upon row of women's garments. I followed him into the enormous closet, running my hand down a rack of evening dresses, feeling the sumptuous silks and chiffons slide through my fingers. Another rack held winter coats in an assortment of rich, dark colours. Buttery soft leather jackets hung next to tight black jeans and designer t-shirts. At the back of the closet stood row after row of shoes – sky-high red heels, black motorcycle boots, wedges and flats in every colour of the rainbow.

"This is what you wanted to show me? That you're secretly a cross-dresser."

"You're lucky you're so beautiful," he replied, grabbing me around the waist and kissing my neck, sending another delicious shiver down my spine. "Your sense of humour could really turn off a man. These are for you, Alex. Your clothes have been ruined. It's the least I can do. Choose what you need for the night."

He thinks I'm beautiful.
While choosing fresh clothes was the last thing on my mind, I thought I might be able to find something sexy to wear for him. I turned to the closet and buried my face in the racks, hiding my flushed cheeks amongst the designer garments. In a shelf near the back, I found lingerie – silk negligees, lace teddies, all the typical stuff that wasn't my style at all. In a drawer under the shelf, I found a silk pyjama set that was halfway between prostitute and grandmother.
Perfect.
I also found some jeans and a t-shirt in my size, for the morning.

He gestured to a pile of towels in another alcove, then opened the door to the
ensuite
. "You'll find everything you need in here," he said. "Just ring the bell by the door if you need something, and Simon will bring it up to you."

I sat down on the corner of the bed, realising that he intended for me to sleep here…alone. Disappointment surged through me.

"You're leaving me here?"

He stared at me with hard eyes. "It's been a long night, Alex. I am in pain. We both need to rest."

"But you're supposed to be protecting me. Where's your room?"

He raised an eyebrow. "That's awfully forward."

"I didn't…that is…I mean…I just wanted to know you'd be close by, in case a certain wolf comes back for me."

"He won't be getting inside this house," Ryan growled.

"Ryan, I…" I squeezed my eyes shut. "I don't want to go to sleep, and I certainly don't want to sleep
alone
. I told you, I chose you. What happened?"

In a moment, he crossed the space between us, leaning against the bed, bracing his bad leg on the oak frame as he loomed over me. "I heard you." He growled.

"Then why–"

"I'm trying desperately to be a gentleman here, Alex. All I want to do is rip your clothes off and take you, but you're special. I don't want to hurt you or frighten you. I'm trying to…"

My heart skipped. He was so close to me, his face ferocious, wild, and his eyes boring into mine with an intensity I'd never seen before.

"You need to run away,
now."
He whispered, his words dark, menacing. "You have no idea what you're playing with."

"No," I whispered back, daring him to give in to that animal nature I knew lurked just below the surface.

His lips met mine with a force that knocked me backwards. Like fire, his lips scorched mine, his tongue a flame searching for something larger to burn. His hands were everywhere; cupping my cheeks, entwined in my hair, pressed into the small of my back. Ryan shoved me against the silken bed, crawling on top of me, his kisses forcing my head deeper into the silken folds. His heaviness made me feel protected, consumed by him.

He kissed a line of fire from my mouth, across my jaw-line, and down the sensitive skin on my neck. Ryan's hands moved up my arms, his fingers knitting with mine, pushing my arms above my head, trapping me against the bed.

I arched my back, pushing my body closer to him, longing to feel that fire inside of me. With one hand pinning my arms, he used his other to unhook the buttons on my blouse, his fingers just grazing the bare skin underneath, making me ache for him. I held my breath, watching in the mirror above me as his muscles rippled across his back.

But before he'd even undone all the buttons, Ryan stopped. He lifted his head, and his gaze flicked around the room. He sniffed the air, and something flashed in his eyes. Was it anger, or was it fear?

He leapt from me, yanking himself across the room, as far from me as he could get.
What is going on? What have I done to frighten him so?
Ryan stared at the ceiling, his eyes wide. He peered around the corner of the door, his stance aggressive, ready to fight off an intruder.

"What's wrong?" I asked, my heart pounding against my chest.
Have I done something wrong? Do I smell bad? Is there an intruder in the house? Does he not want to…?

Ryan grabbed my hand, pulling me up from the bed. He kicked the door open with his foot. "I have a better room for you," he growled, pulling me down the hall. I cringed as the door slammed shut behind us.

"Ryan, what's wrong? Did one of the foxes get inside the manor?"

"No, it's nothing, Alex. I just…needed to get out of that room." Ryan pushed open a door and flicked on a light, revealing a dimly lit room, large, but not overly so. It was painted in a soft, soothing grey, and contained little furniture – just a large bed, a single nightstand, and one entire wall taken up by a single large window, overlooking one corner of the forest and, just beyond, the flickering lights of Crookshollow.

"This room used to be my father's study," Ryan said. "It was decorated with moose heads and dreary Victorian portraits. I chose it for my own, because of the view over the forest. I had that window lifted in with a helicopter. It's one solid pane of glass, so it was quite some undertaking."

I pulled the small pouch Clara had given me from the pocket of my shirt, and placed it around the doorknob. Then, I stepped right up to the window. It reached right to the floor, on the edge of the roof, so the whole room seemed suspended in mid-air, as if I might drop away into nothing. I peered down at the sprawling lawn and overgrown flowerbeds surrounding a long pool, the dirty water glimmering a deep blue in the moonlight. Solar lights illuminated the paths nearest the house, and beyond the garden, the forest lay in shadow. Instead of its usual calming presence, the outline of those dark, twisted branches seemed menacing. It was too close, pressing in against me, forcing me into a corner. I didn't like it one bit.