Authors: Rebecca York
Ghost Moon (17 page)
Ross wiggled out of the pack he carried. His eyes took on an inward focus, and Logan knew what he was doing.
He did the same thing, discarding the pack before he beganto silently say the ancient chant that would turn him from wolf to man.
Ross was already pulling on sweatpants and running shoes from his pack by the time Logan stood erect and worked his shoulders—then began to dress.
“That wasn’t where the ghost was buried. That was a new grave. Someone came in an SUV and planted a body,” Ross said.
“Why not a truck?”
“Would you drive around with a dead guy in the back of a truck?”
“If it had a cover.”
“Okay. It could have been a pickup,” Ross conceded.
“And there were probably two guys. One dropped a beer can on his side of the car. The other threw out a sandwich wrapperon the other side.”
“And they shot at someone.”
“Quinn? Did they get her?”
“I hope not.” Logan ran a hand through his dark hair. “What do you think happened?”
“I wish I knew,” Ross answered. “Either Quinn got away, or not.”
Logan winced.
“What about the ghost?”
“I didn’t feel him,” Logan said.
“Can you show me his grave?”
Logan walked back up the hill and strode into the patch of ground he had always avoided. He walked in a circle, keeping his gaze down, looking for a spot where a man might have been buried seventy-five years earlier. But there was no indication of where that might be.
Ross did the same, tramping carefully around the area. “You sensed him, sensed something around here prior to this?”
“Yes. But it’s like he’s gone.”
“We can search in a wider circle and see if we can pick up Quinn’s trail,” Ross suggested.
Logan could tell from the tone of his cousin’s voice that he wasn’t hopeful about finding anything after the rainstorm. But he wasn’t sure what else to do. Really, he didn’t want to go back and tell the women that they’d uncovered a nasty mystery in the woods.
“Maybe Quinn will call you,” Ross said.
“Maybe,” Logan answered, wondering if he was ever goingto hear from her again—or if she was going to show up making a surprise attack on the house.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Caleb took another
step toward the bed. Then another,feeling like invisible ropes were drawing him toward the woman sleeping there. Whatever happened, he had to wake her, because he couldn’t stand not knowing where he stood with her.
step toward the bed. Then another,feeling like invisible ropes were drawing him toward the woman sleeping there. Whatever happened, he had to wake her, because he couldn’t stand not knowing where he stood with her.
As he drew closer, he could tell that she had showered, too. He caught the scent of the same soap he had used—but on her it was different, with an underlying feminine quality that teased his senses.
“Quinn.”
He wasn’t even aware that her name had escaped his lips until her eyes snapped open. For a moment she looked confusedand panicked, and his chest contracted.
Then she focused on him, and her expression changed.
“Caleb?”
“Yes.”
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
Quickly, he crossed the last few feet of space between them, wondering if she was going to leap off the bed and back away from him.
But she stayed where she was, and he felt as though he had won a major victory. He eased onto the side of the bed, his hands clenched at his sides.
She was looking at him with those beautiful dark eyes of hers.
“You fell asleep so fast. Are you feeling better?” she asked.
“Yes.” He raised one shoulder. “I guess I needed to recharge.” His hand trembled as he raised it to her face, stroking his finger against her cheek, marveling at the sensationof skin against skin.
“It was different before. I can really feel you now,” he murmured.
“You couldn’t feel me?”
He cast his thoughts back, trying to explain how it was. “I could. Sort of. But it was different. Not solid. ”
It had been a disconnected feeling, he realized. Although it had been all he could hope for, he didn’t really want to talk about it now.
He was sure she could sense the difference in him. And he knew damn well that she was reacting to him—as he was to her.
Or, he hoped he wasn’t reading what he wanted into the way her body quivered under his touch.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he didn’t want any more talking. He wanted her. Fiercely. Completely.
Gathering her close, he brought his mouth down to hers, his lips moving urgently, the contact threatening to swamp his senses.
He had felt alive under the shower. But the sensation was nothing compared to what he was feeling at this moment. He was aroused to a fever pitch of need, and the woman he wanted was in his arms. On a real bed with him. Not on a bed of leaves out in the forest.
The covers had become an intolerable barrier. Standing again, he stripped them away, looking up and down the length of her body—from her small feet, to her long, beautifullyshaped legs, to the hem of her T-shirt. It had hiked up, and he could see the dark triangle of hair at the top of her legs. He wanted to touch her there. But not yet.
From some unwanted place, a wayward image flashed into his mind—the stranger’s face he had seen in the mirror. He clenched his jaw.
Quinn’s expresson changed. “Caleb, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
He pushed the image away. It didn’t matter what he looked like. What mattered was making Quinn his own.
He came down beside her on the bed again and lowered his head, kissing her softly as his fingers stroked over her face, then her neck and collarbone. Her shirt was in the way of further progress, so he dragged it up, then stripped it over her head so that she lay naked before him.
Her eyes were large and luminous in the dim light, and when she reached to touch his lips, he murmured, “You want this as much as I do.”
“Yes.”
“Thank God.”
He heard a sound roaring in his ears and understood that it was his own blood rushing in his veins.
His own blood!
Lord, he could hardly believe this was happening. Hardly believe that everything had changed in a split second. Fate had given him his life back, and he could make love to Quinn as he had longed to do.
He reached for her hand, knitting his fingers with hers, and his heart squeezed when she returned the pressure.
He could barely breathe. Barely keep his body from trembling.
He lifted his other hand, so that he could stroke her hair back from her face, then tangle his fingers in the thick strands before angling his head so he could bring his lips to hers again.
His reality had contracted to this bed. This woman. And he sought contact with her everywhere he could.
His mouth on hers, his hands moving over her body. His cock pressed against her thigh.
He thought he might explode with need. But he knew he had to hold himself back long enough to give her the same firestorm of pleasure that gathered inside him.
It had been so long since he had been a flesh and blood man holding a woman in his arms. And now Quinn was here. With him. The right woman.
His life mate.
That startling thought almost swamped him.
His life mate.
He had thought that joy would be impossible for him. Yet here she was. And it felt so real. So right.
If you counted the years of his life, he was too young to have bonded. But he thought maybe the time of being a ghost had made a difference.
Thrusting the ghost out of his mind, he rubbed his lips against hers. “Quinn, I love your sweet mouth and your sexy body. I love the way you smell. I love your silky skin.”
He punctuated each phrase with little kisses, starting with her face then moving downward over the tops of her breasts and the valley between them, burying his face in her softness and breathing in her intoxicating scent.
Her hands cupped the back of his head, holding him to her as she combed her fingers through his hair.
“Oh, Lord,” he gasped. “I want to drown in you.”
He turned his head one way and then the other, glorying in the feel of each breast and the beautiful sight of her erect nipples. Then he moved a few inches so that he could circle one tight bud with his tongue. The taste was glorious. And when he sucked it into his mouth, she surged against him, wordless vibrations coming off her like waves of pleasure.
He rolled her to her side, keeping her hip against his cock, clasping her against his heat and hardness as he devouredher mouth.
He was almost dizzy with the sensations zinging through him. Touching her. Tasting her was almost too much for him. Yet he couldn’t stop.
“Lord, I can’t believe you are here with me. After all this time,” he said, his voice husky, his hand tracing the curve of her hip, then drifting lower to tangle in the wonderful crinkly hair at the top of her legs.
“Oh!”
Touching her there sent darts of sensation to his nerve endings. Craving more, he slid his hand lower, into the slick, moist heat of her pussy.
She was plump and swollen. Ready for sex. Ready for him.
Wordlessly, she told him how much she wanted him as her hips rose against his fingers.
He stroked through her sensitive folds, dipping two fingersinside her and withdrawing. Her breath was coming broken and fast as he built her pleasure.
He wanted everything. All at once. He wanted to run his tongue through the wonderful moisture of that most intimate part of her. But they would have time for that later. All the time in the world. For now, he was afraid that if he didn’t finishthis soon, he would embarrass himself.
When he ripped off the loose pants, his cock sprang free. He was so hard that he wavered between pleasure and pain.
“Now. I need you now,” he gasped.
“Yes!”
His blood had turned to a molten river, but his physical response was only part of what he felt. He sensed she was with him—body and soul.
He rolled her to her back, parting her legs with his knee.
“Now!” he said again, claiming her with one powerful thrust.
He heard her catch her breath.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes.”
For a long moment he held himself still, staring down at her in wonder. He was inside her. It was real. And physical.
He wanted it to last forever. This gut-wrenching moment of claiming his mate.
But the urgency was too great. He began to move inside her, with measured strokes at first, until it was impossible to keep the pace slow and deliberate.
She clung to his shoulders and his hand moved between them, stroking and pressing as he urged her toward completion.
“Caleb!”
The sound of his name on her lips made his breath catch. It caught again as he felt her tighten around him, heard her cry out in ecstasy. And as she came, waves of pleasure took him, carrying him to some far place where he had never expectedto travel again.
He felt her clinging to him. When he tried to look down into her face, moisture blurred his vision. He didn’t want her to see that weakness, so he clasped the back of her head and pressed her face against his chest.
He felt her lips moving over him. “Caleb,” she said again, her voice a soft caress.
He kissed the top of her head as he folded her close and rolled to his side. Climax had left his body limp. But the emotions he felt were even more intense than when he’d first taken her into his arms.
There was so much that he wanted to say to her about what the two of them would mean to each other. But he sensed that it was too soon. At least for her.
And maybe for him.
He held her, sliding his fingers over her damp shoulder, kissing her cheek.
“Thank you,” he murmured.
She reached to stroke her fingers against his lips. “I thought we could never have this,” she whispered. “And I was so sad.”
“Yes.”
“I’m glad you’re here. Like this.” She slid her hand down his arm, over his hip, tracing the length of his body. The body that didn’t match his mental image of himself. But he would learn to deal with that. He had to.
“There’s a lot you don’t know—about this world.” She laughed. “A lot I don’t know, either. But I can show you some of it.”
She cleared her throat. Her head was tipped down, away from his face, and he wondered what she was going to say.
“Did you remember anything?”
“About what?”
“The . . . man . . . they buried.”
He had been avoiding that subject. Deliberately, he turned his thoughts inward. When he tried to recapture any of the memories from the man, he drew a big fat blank.
“No.”
“We have to find out who he was. And why they wanted to kill him.”
“Yeah. But not now.”
She looked like she was going to protest, but she ended up closing her mouth.
He reached for the covers he’d tossed to the end of the bed and pulled them up, snuggling down beside Quinn. It was such an ordinary thing to do. Yet it hardly felt ordinary to him.
It was a moment he had never expected to experience ever again. And he ached to go on with his life. If he could. With Quinn at his side. Yet he knew there were issues he had thrust aside. He had been focused on himself. Then focused on the magic of being with Quinn.
But he had stayed on earth, hovering around the place where he was buried, because he had a job to do. And now he had the opportunity to do it.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Caleb woke and
turned his head toward the window. Light drifted in from around the edges of the shade, and from its quality he judged that it was late afternoon.
turned his head toward the window. Light drifted in from around the edges of the shade, and from its quality he judged that it was late afternoon.
When he reached for Quinn and found the bed empty, he felt a spurt of panic—until he heard sounds that were vaguely familiar. She must be in the kitchen fixing food.
The full bladder feeling assaulted him again, and he got up and used the facilities. When he caught a glance of his face in the mirror, he clenched his teeth. How long would it take for him not to feel a little shock every time he looked at himself?
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