Moon - New Moon Part 5

When she dragged him up, the place: where the teeth of the trap had dug into his leg bloomed with white hot pain, and every muscle in his body quivered with the effort to walk.

To his relief, she led him only a few yards farther into the cave, where she eased him down onto a narrow pallet.

He lay there breathing hard, watching Rinna while she leaned over him, examining the wounds; then she began to work on him, gently was.h.i.+ng his leg and examining where the jaws of the trap had gouged into his flesh. The touch of her hands could have been sensual, until she uncapped a bottle of what smelled like alcohol.

"I'm sorry. This is going to hurt," she murmured.

When she drenched another rag with the pungent spirits and wiped his shoulder, he gritted his teeth to keep from gasping.

"It's all right to cry out," she whispered.

He kept the scream clamped inside himself as she did the same for the leg.

She pressed her fingers to his forehead. "You don't have a fever. That's good. Sleep will help you mend."

The injuries continued to throb, and he thought that sleep would be impossible. Reaching out, he clasped her hand. "Wait, who are you? You were in my mind, when I made the change, weren't you?"

She gave a small nod.

"You have to explain about that trap. And Falcone..."

At the mention of the man's name, her face contorted, and she pulled her hand away. "Later."

He realized he had asked the wrong question. d.a.m.n!

"Sleep," she said again, brus.h.i.+ng the hair back from his brow as she whispered low, soothing words to him. He struggled to keep his eyes open and focused on her, but his lids grew heavy. It felt like she was sending him a hypnotic suggestion with her words and her voice and her touch. Or maybe she was just helping along a natural process.

Almost instantly, he dropped into blessed darkness.

At first, he was lost in oblivion. Then a dream grabbed him by the throat. A twisted version of reality.

He was running naked through the forest, pursued by men with ancient-looking body armor and leggings like aliens out of an old Star Trek episode. Lucky for him they had spears instead of ray guns.

The last time he'd seen them, it had been night. Now it was broad daylight, making him feel even more exposed.

He had no weapons, and he knew that if they caught him, he was a dead man. They would slash him to pieces with spears and knives. Or maybe they would drag him back to Falcone. He didn't know which was worse.

Falcone.

He imagined a giant of a man sitting on a carved stone throne. The figure was vaguely human. But he had devil's horns, cloven hoofs, and ma.s.sive hands that gripped the high armrests of his chair.

He had teeth like the grooves on a saw blade. And his hollow eye sockets glowed red. That frightening image as much as the men behind him kept Logan running.

His breath was coming in great gasps, and he knew he was reaching the end of his strength.

Then a voice called to him through the trees.

"Over here. Hurry."

He saw a flash of white skin and dark hair. To his relief, Rinna stepped out from behind a tree. She was wearing a white gown like a Greek G.o.ddess. But she was flesh and blood. Swiftly she grabbed his hand, pulling him into the forest. They ran for their lives-first through the trees, then through a gauzy curtain into a dark cave.

They were both breathing hard from the run, but he managed to say, "We need light."

"Yes."

As she spoke, golden lights flickered around them, and he saw fat candles burning on stone ledges around the walls. In the center of the circular room was a bed covered with rich fabric.

Outside he heard the sound of men shouting, their tone desperate.

"Where in the name of Carfolian h.e.l.l did they go?"

"Hurry, we have to find them. Falcone will kill us if we come back empty-handed."

Every muscle in Logan's body tensed, but Rinna only tipped her head to one side, listening.

When the sound receded, a deep sigh of relief flowed from her throat, and he knew she wasn't as composed as she looked.

"Thank the Great Mother that you got here in time," she whispered.

"The Great Mother?"

"I pray to her, sometimes."

He studied her grave expression and the white gown she wore. It was soft and translucent, and he saw hints of her beautiful body through the fabric where it draped over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and hips.

He wanted to reach for her, but she had been shy with him before. Shy? He laughed.

"What?"

"You could have stepped out of a Wonder Woman movie, but you're... nervous around me."

She looked away from him, and he hated the way she broke eye contact.

Slowly, giving her time to pull away, he reached out his arm. When she stayed where she was, he stepped toward her, moving quietly until he could wrap his arms around her. As she rested her cheek against his shoulder, he knew he had won a victory.

At the same time, in some inexplicable way, he felt as though he had finally come home to a long-lost lover.

"Are you the woman I've been looking for?" he asked, breathing deeply, taking in her delicious scent.

"I don't know."

He wanted to find out. So he changed the terms of the dream.

They had been running for their lives. Now that they had the luxury of time alone together, he was swamped by a host of sensations. The feel of her soft hair against his shoulder. The pressure of her high, firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s. And that wonderful scent that clung to her like a field of herbs and flowers. She was so exquisite that he could barely breathe. Yet he felt her uncertainty. She was as tense as when the soldiers were searching for them nearby.

"Don't be afraid of me," he murmured. Then he lowered his lips to hers. He was so hungry for her that he wanted to ravage her mouth, but he kept the kiss light and gentle as he explored her sweetness, rubbing his lips back and forth, then settling clown for firmer contact.

She sighed out his name, and he struggled not to frighten her away because he understood that she was poised to flee if he made the wrong move.