Lost (Shifter Island Book 1) (4 page)

“Whatever you’re worried about,” she said quietly. “Can’t it wait? This is… it’s so perfect.”

Don’t spoil it
, she thought but didn’t say.

“Abby Sullivan,” he whispered.

She’d told him her name during the afternoon, while he was feeding her, along with how she’d managed to come here. Now he seemed to be trying it on for size, testing it, seeing if it suited him. Or maybe there was some other reason. Not that it mattered. Names, jobs, family history—none of that mattered. Not here, not now.

She sat up and took his hand and guided it to her breast. He resisted touching her, drew his hand back a couple of inches, but she held on to it, to its warmth and strength.

Again, she had that feeling that she had come to the right place at the right time. That all of this was exactly as it should be.

“Make love to me, Aaron,” she said. “Forget whatever’s out there. Just make love to me.”

For a moment, he looked immensely sad. Then he took an enormous, shuddering breath and squared his shoulders as he nodded. Finally, he smiled again and looked at her with what seemed like enormous affection. That wasn’t at all what she’d expected at a time like this, but the sweetness of it enthralled her. No man had ever looked at her like that—like she was, somehow, the dearest thing in his world.

With a blink, that too was gone, and he climbed onto the bed and nudged her legs apart. On his hands and knees he moved up her body until they were face to face. There was something a little wild in his expression as he made that sound she’d heard a while ago, the noise that was both a growl and a moan. The growl deepened as he shifted his hips downward. He reached ahead with one hand, finding the way for himself, and plunged inside her in one swift, smooth movement.

Yes! Oh, God, yes.

He filled her to the brim, filled her so fully that she had to squirm to help him fit. Then she wrapped her legs around his hips and pushed him even farther in. He seemed to be both there and somewhere far away as he thrust, breathing in deep huffs, humming low in his throat. She climbed back toward orgasm as he did, clutching at him, aware of nothing but the heat of his body, the strength of him, their need for each other.

She felt him burst inside her, felt a rush of warmth, and a moment later, she shuddered and whimpered as she climaxed again, grasping at his shoulders, trying to find a handhold, trying to keep him there with her so that this wouldn’t end.

When they were both spent, he lay first on top of her, then rolled to the side and onto his back. She thought for a second that he might want to get up, might want to go back outside and sit in the moonlight, but instead he moved closer and gathered her into his arms. Then he kissed and stroked her hair, nuzzled her cheek, caressed her breasts and belly. He seemed to be trembling a little. Cold, maybe.

“The blanket?” she suggested.

He pulled it up over the two of them, cocooning them, and she fell asleep again in his arms.

Aaron’s first thought was of food—what he could possibly provide for Abby that would seem like a feast. Her hunger the day before had nearly depleted his stash of honey cakes, and she seemed to have no interest in bread and jam. None of that was a surprise, of course; he had spent enough time among humans to know what many of their preferences were. She was probably accustomed to a bounty of food of a thousand different varieties, all hers for the taking and available at any hour of the day or night.

Here, his options were limited. He had been given enough to see him through his month of Separation if he ate sparingly and conserved his energy, but there was no room for Abby in that equation.

What, then? A rabbit, maybe?

No… fish.

The cove on the south side of the island was often full of fish at this hour of the morning, before the sun came around. He should be able to spear a couple of them easily. He could add to that some of the flavorful mushrooms he’d seen in the woods, and some greens. Maybe one of the potatoes he had set aside for an emergency. That still wasn’t the type of meal she was probably used to, but if he presented it with enough flourish, she might be impressed.

He lay still and silent for a few minutes, watching her sleep. Only her head was visible above the blanket he had tucked around her shoulders, and she seemed to be truly relaxed and at peace for the first time.

That wouldn’t last, he supposed. Not when she had to go back to facing the reality of her situation.

And when
he
had to.

It wouldn’t be difficult to convince one of the others to take her back to the mainland. Although perhaps a dozen humans had been taken in by the pack over the years, and a few were still living on the island now, this particular human probably wouldn’t be wanted here, even for a short time—someone with ties to the mainland, someone with family and friends who were likely to come looking for her. Nor was she likely to want to stay in a place like this. She’d set out across the open water wearing a skimpy dress and flimsy shoes, with no provisions and no way to rescue herself should something go wrong. During the night, he’d gone down to the dock to take a look at her boat and had been seriously dismayed by the condition of the thing.

Foolish
, he thought.

The pack wouldn’t be interested in someone like that. So, yes, they’d be glad to deliver her back to the mainland. The thing was, he wanted her to stay, at least for a while. He wanted to show her what his life was like: days and nights spent enjoying the outdoors in this mild weather, hunting for food, playing in the water, running and jumping and climbing for the pure fun of it. This place had a raw, enduring beauty, even during the worst of storms, one that was untouched by the poisons of the mainland.

She would love it here. He was sure she would.

Dreamer.

That was his brother Luca’s voice. Luca, the pragmatic one, the one who had delivered Aaron out here to begin his month of Separation. Like Aaron, Luca had spent time on the mainland, the period of education the pack called the Involvement—but unlike Aaron, Luca had little patience for humans and no interest in interrelating with them. To Luca (and to a good many other members of the pack, going back as far as anyone could remember), most humans were foolish, greedy, short-sighted. Far too interested in a soft life. The moment Luca found out Abby was here, he would insist that she be removed.

Maybe more than that, because she knew where the island was.

Luckily, only a few of the older wolves were harsh and strict enough in their beliefs to demand that an invading human be placed in exile, or worse. Abby had no idea of the true nature of the pack; all she had seen was one man living alone in the woods. If she was told that his family was here, that this island belonged to them and they preferred to be left alone, she’d likely be willing to accept that. It had happened before, and each time the intruder had promised to say nothing about the island to anyone. And really, why would they? There was nothing valuable here.

Everything would be fine, Aaron told himself firmly. No one would harm Abby. No one would want to.

She stirred and blinked, coming awake slowly, smiling when she saw him. She moved closer to him underneath the covers and drifted her hands over his body, finding a way to mold herself against him. He could smell her arousal and knew she’d found his by the way her smile quirked into a grin.

He kissed her forehead, then her lips.

To his surprise, she drew back.

“Do you–” she stammered. “Is there–”

He raised an eyebrow in inquiry.

“A bathroom,” she said. “There isn’t—I mean—where do you–”

“In the woods,” he said with a twitch of one shoulder.

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t seem to be the answer she’d wanted. He could put something together for her, he supposed; he had a bucket, and he could lay a couple of pieces of wood across the top so she could sit.
See?
he heard Luca’s voice say at the back of his mind.
These humans are too spoiled by their comforts. They can’t even piss without their contraptions.
But before he could make the offer, Abby jumped out of bed, pulled on her dress, and scurried outside as fast as a rabbit.

She came back a couple of minutes later looking sheepish but relieved.

“I could have done something–” Aaron said.

Abby shook her head. “I went camping with my family sometimes when I was a kid. We learned how to go in the woods. And how to look out for poison ivy and whatnot. It’s all right. Awkward, but all right.”

“Are you sure?”

“As long as it’s not snowing.”

She was standing in a spill of sunlight that made her look remarkably beautiful. Aaron—who had seen enough humans on the mainland to know that among her kind she was probably considered pretty but not exceptional—allowed himself to admire her fully, remembering how soft her skin was, how sweet she had tasted. The memory kindled new warmth in his belly, and he thought he might suggest that they stay in bed, at least for a while.

“Could I–” she said.

He tipped his head, wondering what was on her mind now.

“I was thinking about a bath. Washing up? I smell a little rank.”

To him, she smelled nothing of the kind. Yes, her skin was rich with the smells of their mating, and of her exertion the day before, but that wasn’t a bad scent. It meant she was young, active, fertile. No wolf would ever object to any of that. But he understood that she wanted to look (and smell) her best for him, and no wolf would object to that, either.

Nodding, he slipped out of bed, took a shallow basin out of the cupboard, and carried it outside to fill it with water from the barrel. He brought it back indoors and set it on top of the cupboard along with the remains of his bar of soap and a small towel.

“The best I can offer,” he told her.

“It’s fine.”

She didn’t seem to be saying that grudgingly, and he wondered how much hardship she’d gone through in her life. He was aware that a large number of humans lived under extreme conditions, but he hadn’t thought she was one of them. Her dress, even though it was badly wrinkled now, seemed to be nicely made, and her purse looked like an expensive one. Her nails (both fingers and toes) were manicured and polished.

She was a puzzle, he decided. An enticing, beautiful puzzle.

“I’ll go and find us some food,” he said, thinking he would give her some privacy in which to do her cleaning up. “Do you like fish?”

“I do.”

“Even for breakfast?”

“That’s fine.”

“It shouldn’t take very long.”

Her stomach gurgled, something that made her blush with embarrassment, and she turned quickly toward the cupboard and the bar of soap. Smiling, Aaron took a moment to pull on his jeans and t-shirt and shoes, then left the cabin and closed the door behind him.

As he’d hoped, spearing a couple of fish in the cove didn’t take long. Once he had them in hand, he went swiftly to the place where the best mushrooms grew and gathered enough of them for this one meal, then collected some greens and some more blueberries. He could tell by the position of the sun that he’d been gone less than an hour, a length of time that he hoped wouldn’t seem unreasonable to Abby.

It didn’t.

She was clean now, and smelled of soap. She’d brushed her hair and had put on fresh clothing, another dress that he supposed had come from the depths of her enormous bag, this one with a fuller skirt than the other one. It drifted and twirled around her legs when she moved, something he found very intriguing.

He went about preparing the meal with nervous chills running through his body. He told her he liked to cook, and urged her to sit in a sunny spot near the cabin while he scaled and gutted the fish, then started a fire in the fire pit near the edge of the clearing. He could tell from the way she wrinkled her nose at the heap of fish guts, then looked away, that she wasn’t fond of dealing with such things.

“You don’t fish?” he asked.

Again, she wrinkled her nose. “The boys—my brothers—always did that. Cleaning them.”

He’d been careful not to get any of the blood and fluids on his clothes. After he’d buried the offal, he washed up at the barrel and ran his now-clean hands through his hair.

A good meal, he thought. She’d realize he was a good provider.

Then he stopped himself short. What difference would it make whether she believed he was a good provider or not? It wasn’t like she’d be staying here, as if he had any responsibility for her at all. She’d be leaving today, after he’d found someone to take her back to the mainland. More than likely, she’d never think of him again.

That hurt, but it was foolish to believe otherwise.

Shrugging off any thought of tomorrow, he went into the cabin to fetch what was left of his loaf of bread. He employed a trick his mother had taught him: he sliced some of the stale bread, sprinkled it with some water, and placed it over the fire to toast.

When the meal was finally ready, he handed Abby a plate with all the gravity of a renewal ceremony, hoping that she wouldn’t reject it. It was the best he could do, a better meal than he’d eaten himself in more than two weeks.

“It looks good,” Abby said, smiling down at her plate, then at him.

He sat down too and balanced his plate on his lap. It was definitely the most elaborate meal he’d had since before the beginning of his Separation period, but that wasn’t saying much.

They ate without speaking for a few minutes. Abby seemed to enjoy the fish, and nibbled on the toasted bread without complaint. She was probably hungry enough to eat almost anything without complaining, but the sweet expression on her face told him there was more to it than that.

“Thank you,” she said at last.

“I would have liked to offer you more.”

“That’s all right. This is fine.”

When the fish and bread were gone, she tried one of the mushrooms but didn’t seem too fond of it. The blueberries were more of a success.

“You’re not eating much,” she pointed out.

He remembered his mother saying,
When you waste food, you injure the pack
, and scooped up some more fish. He cleaned his plate quickly, mushrooms and all, then set it aside so he could focus on Abby.

They’d set up their meal picnic style, outside the cabin in the sunshine, sitting on a spare blanket he’d pulled out of the cupboard. The breeze had shifted a couple of times during the morning, and the clearing was full of the fragrance of wildflowers and pine, much more pleasant than the inside of the cabin.

“It’s so beautiful here,” Abby said.

“You think so?”

Her tongue slid across her lips, cleaning them of crumbs. “I love the outdoors, when it’s quiet like this. There’s a yard behind where I live, and I can sit out there, but the neighbors are always out there playing the radio or running a leaf blower or something. My favorite time is early in the morning, before everybody else gets up. It’s so peaceful.” She was quiet for a moment, and seemed to be weighing what she would say next, which turned out to be, “Do you live here by yourself?”

“No. There are others.”

“Is this a big island?”

“Big enough.”

“That’s mysterious.”

“We don’t need much. We lead a simple life here.”

She nodded and went back to thinking. After that, she spent a while basking in the sunshine, not looking at anything in particular.

As much as he could, Aaron looked at her: the way her long, wavy hair drifted around her shoulders in the breeze, the way her dress was fitted around her breasts, the curve of her legs. She’d come outside without her flimsy pink shoes, and he frowned at the amount of damage they’d done to her feet. Her littlest toes were red and blistered, and there were more blisters on her heels.

Foolish.

But he couldn’t condemn her for that. She was only doing what humans always did. And she hadn’t expected to come here, to have to make her way through the woods. He couldn’t find fault with her any more that he could with a child, or a bird. She simply needed help.