Blood Moons (27 page)

"What?" she all but shouted. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

He chose his words carefully. "You sound ... jealous, lass."

"Do
not
call me that."

"All right," he conceded and made himself unlock his muscles. The bruises were healing rapidly and with some food, he'd be back to his old self in an hour or two. But this new revelation disturbed him. How could he have possibly missed it?

"And don't be ridiculous. I'm not jealous. It's just that I don't get it. The two of you are point and counterpoint. You have nothing in common."

"Maybe that's it, then. She is what I'm not."

Amelia fidgeted. "Maybe," she said. "But my point was, there is obviously a connection. So maybe I should bring her in on this."

"No."

"Don't think I don't know why you went off like that yesterday. If Dara is the trigger, then she's also your internally external source of control."

"First, that makes no sense. And second, no."

"It does too make sense, and I
am
going to ask her. If she agrees, she's in."

"Amelia, she's been hurt enough," Tristan forced himself to say. Damn it! He didn't need a devil's advocate in this. He was doing a fine enough job of it already. The only reason he wasn't stalking through the corridors to find her was that he was weak.

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Amelia pulled up a tray of breakfast, busying herself while she formulated a diplomatic response. "Consider that there is something special enough about her that agents have taken notice. Decide which is the bigger threat to her—you or them.

And then keep in mind that, as long as she's here, she can't be there. You'll be able to keep an eye on her, and I'll keep an eye on you to make sure no one gets hurt."

Tristan eyed the food. His stomach was growling for it, but he was swiftly losing his appetite. "Moot point," he said. "She won't agree." She hadn't reached out to him. He'd have felt it if she had—even deeply unconscious he'd have felt it. He met Amelia's gaze. "And you will not force her."

"No," she said. "Force is not my style. You have my word that I won't try to force Dara to do anything. But I will do my best to try to persuade her."

"Persuade me to do what?"

Tristan closed his eyes, shuddering at the mere sound of her voice behind him. And even while his mind screamed for her to run, his arms wanted to reach out to pull her to him.

He curled his fingers into the edge of his bed, crushing metal to stop himself.

Wuss. Wimp. Weakling, pushover, sissy,
and her favorite word of the day:
IDIOT!

All night long Dara had tossed and turned. She hadn't slept a wink and it was all because of him again. Because, no matter how much he'd freaked her out with that half morph to deadly Big Cat with lethal claws, no matter how much he'd hurt her with them, she'd still wanted to run to him—and she couldn't even run!

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Because the truth was she'd rather take her chances with him than on her own. Yes, he'd abandoned her. Yes, he'd attacked her in the throes of whatever his malfunction was.

And yes, he was a heartless jackass who wouldn't give her a second thought as soon as he got this under control and his life back together—which, Tristan Hunt being who he was, he would manage sooner or later, and it would probably be sooner. Dara knew all that.

And still, she wasn't running the other way. When she'd felt him yesterday, she'd nearly drowned in his anguish. It had occurred to her, in those terrifying minutes during which she'd waited to see if he would dump it all on her and crush her with the weight of his mind in such torment, that just as he was the only one within light years who might be able to help her, she might just be the only lifeline Tristan had—

anywhere
.

How could anyone expect her to walk away from that?

Her
—Dara Frost. The idiot who called the police and got herself thrown in jail because she was trying to help someone who was already dead anyway. She was a fool. And it sucked, because if all this wasn't happening around them, Dara might actually enjoy being with Tristan. Heaven help her, she might actually
like
him.

So that was why she was now standing here, in the jeans and T-shirt she'd made Andrew get for her, with her arm in a sling and a thick sweater draped over her shoulders. And the sad thing was, this was the first time in days that she'd been able to breathe without feeling as if the walls were closing in on her.

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Dr. Chase looked like a kid caught stealing candy to have been heard talking about Dara, and Tristan wouldn't even look at her. Was it possible for a person to be
this
much of a glutton for punishment? "Good morning," Dr. Chase said.

"How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I suppose. What did you want to persuade me to do?"

Dr. Chase looked at Tristan and there was a silent battle of wills. Dara wasn't sure which of them won, but Dr. Chase came around Tristan's bed toward her. "We were discussing the possibility that you might be able to help us in this study."

"You mean the animal thing?"
Whoa.
"You mean you want to turn me into one too?"

"No, not at all. Nothing like that. It would just be a small, peripheral, really minor role."

Dara looked around for something else to focus on so she could think. Her gaze caught on the cage at the end of the room. "The pillow doesn't look like it fared well."

"It was a mattress," Dr. Chase corrected.

"Oh," Dara said weakly. Not something so easily disintegrated into snowflake-sized pieces. Good to know.

"So"—she had to clear her throat to find her voice again—

"what would you need me to do?"

"She thinks you're the trigger," Tristan said, twisting to face them. But he still hadn't looked at her. "She wants you to be here when I change, so I have something to focus on."

His tone told her he wouldn't do it in her place.

"It's really not as dangerous as he makes it sound," Dr.

Chase said quickly. "We already know he can't get out of the 247

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cage, so as long as you stayed outside of it, you'd be perfectly safe."

Tristan snorted. "Yeah, just don't stand too close."

"Tristan," Dr. Chase rebuked, glaring at him.

He glared right back at her.

"You'd be helping both of us," the doc said.

"You could get killed," Tristan returned.

"You know you'd never hurt her."

"Don't you dare make her that promise," he snarled viciously. "You have no idea what I could do."

"Neither do you," Dr. Chase yelled right back, undaunted.

"That's precisely my point!"

"Stop it, both of you!" God, it was like listening to five-year-olds. Dara rubbed her forehead to stall a blooming headache. "I'm not a bone for you to fight over, so just stop it. And let me decide."

"Don't be stupid—"

"Dr. Chase," she said, ignoring him for the time being, "are you telling me he's already changed fully?"

"Yes, that's right. He assumed another shape for fifteen minutes and twelve point seven one seconds, not counting the actual transformation."

And he'd survived. One of his worst fears was finally allayed. "So what is your professional opinion of his state of mind during that time?"

Dr. Chase had clearly been ready to tout the success of her experiment before Dara had even finished speaking. To say that there'd been little physical damage to Tristan—things Dara could see with her own eyes. She'd probably even 248

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prepared a speech about it to convince her. But the doctor hadn't expected to be asked about his mental health and she hesitated. Casting a quick glance Tristan's way, she shoved her hands in her pockets. "For the most part, the subject appeared—"

"The
subject
?"

"—in full possession of his senses, the same way he is now." Tristan looked incensed to be interrupted, but Dr.

Chase took her cue from Dara and ignored him. "He was cooperative as usual, and seemed comfortable enough in his new shape to try testing it somewhat. As much as the cage allowed."

My God, he'd done it.
Dara was amazed, listening to Dr.

Chase. Tristan had changed into an animal, all on his own, then changed back, and he was still in one piece.

He won't need me now,
she thought and a stab of regret made her wince a little. But she mentally shook herself and tuned back in to what the doctor was saying.

"He even looked playful, now that I think about it. In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that he had a ... brief episode of aggression, but it didn't last long. He got himself under control without interference from me and changed his shape back."

That was a very detailed briefing in which Dara learned absolutely nothing about what she wanted to know. So she turned to Tristan. "Your turn," she told him. "Tell me what you're thinking."

Finally he looked at her and in his eyes, Dara could see the anguish she'd felt in him yesterday. "You saw the mattress,"

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he said simply, but his gaze spoke volumes more. "That could easily be you." It made her want to hug him to her breast, not just for his comfort, but also for her own.

"Are you basing that on the added strength you have as an animal?" she asked, needing more detail. Conversation to distract her from other, more complicated things. "Do you think you will hurt me that way? Or is there another reason?"

"
Rational
is not something I had a grip on yesterday.

Despite what Dr. Chase might lead you to believe. I could hurt you without meaning to. Or I could do it with very clear intent. You wouldn't climb into a cage with a wild animal. You shouldn't do this."

"You don't trust yourself."

"Look in the mirror, Dara." He sounded as if he had to force himself to say the words. "Look at what I did to you, and I wasn't even fully changed then."

For some reason, that pissed her off. "So let me get this straight. It's okay for you to be the big tough guy, stepping in whenever you feel like it"—
"protecting me from everything,
including myself"—
"but not for me to return the favor?"

Tristan flinched at her mental touch. There was surprise; he hadn't expected her to talk to him like that. She was hit by a wave of relief so immense it made her sway on her feet.

And on that wave, words. Many and varied, overlapping and echoing.

"Don't deserve you. Needyoucraveyoudreamyou ... My
life."
The last rang out clear as bells and made her shiver.

There was so much emotion behind those words, he couldn't have fabricated that. As drawn as she felt to him, Dara now 250

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understood that she could multiply that feeling a hundred times, mix it with a decade of loneliness, self-doubt, self-fear and desolation, and she wouldn't come close to what he was feeling. There were no words to describe it.

Maybe she wasn't such a fool to stake so much on this thing between them.

"What would be the point of me having kept you safe if now I end up ripping you to shreds?" he said aloud.

Before Dara could come up with an answer, Dr. Chase chimed in, giving her a reprieve to collect her thoughts. "Oh, now you're just trying to scare her," she said.

"I can be persuasive too," Tristan told her pointedly.

"You're being deliberately dramatic! That's not fair. I gave her the facts."

"Yeah, conveniently leaving out some pretty fucking major ones. Like the
fact
that she might be the trigger because she's the target!"

"I gave my professional opinion based on my observations—"

"Professionally worded bullshit and you know it. If you want to be the professional,
objective
scientist you pretend to be, then show her the video. Show her how
not
in possession of my senses I really was."

"You're an asshole, you know that?"

"And you're a manipulative bitch. Dara, if you had any sense, you would run far from me. And hope to hell that I don't catch you."

And still, even trying to scare her, there was an underlying message:
Don't go.

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Well, that did it. The bickering was giving her a headache and Tristan was confusing her. There was only so much of this crap that Dara was willing to take. "I've decided," she said to put a stop to it. "I'll do it. Whatever it is." Tristan had given her the chance to take her life back. She owed him this.

Dr. Chase smiled triumphantly.

Tristan stared. He pushed to his feet resolutely. The patch of purple on his bare torso that almost encompassed it made Dara cringe. How much pain he must be in. "It doesn't matter," he said. "
I
won't do it." This time he meant it.

The sight of his body so bruised made her heart squeeze.

She wanted to do something to help. Kissing the wounds away only worked metaphorically. But if she could help him master this so it didn't hurt anymore...

Dara hated seeing creatures in pain. "Do you remember our chess games?" she said thoughtfully.

Tristan glared in answer.

"I simply won't give you a choice."
Dara smiled, suddenly eager to pull the tiger's tail. "Payback's a bitch."

He swore and came to her swiftly, grasping her shoulders, careful with the one he'd clawed. "Dara, be smart about this,"

he said, his voice fierce, almost desperate. His eyes were glowing. "No one knows what I'll be capable of. Not me, and definitely not Dr. Chase. It was my first time changing and I was weakened because I'd been trying it for two days. I'm not now. If I get even stronger, I might be able to get out of that cage."

She saw his pupils change, felt his need to lean close and breathe her in—a need he was keeping in check because Dr.