Moon - New Moon Part 7

Falcone turned toward Rinna, his eyes blazing. "Stop it," he ordered through gritted teeth. "Stop it. You're not allowed to use your power."

She screamed, her face contorting as she sagged against the wall. Then she straightened and focused her gaze on Falcone, and he fell back once again.

This was Logan's chance to get the guy. But when he tried to lunge forward, he found he couldn't move. And he couldn't call out. All he could do was lie paralyzed on the ground, waiting to see what would happen next.

Sickness rose in his throat as Falcone advanced on Rinna. He felt her fear and her revulsion. And he knew that the worst thing that could ever happen to her was to have this man touch her.

Falcone reached for her, and her scream rang in his ears.

Before it happened, Logan's eyes blinked open.

He was in a cave with Rinna all right. But not the place of his dream. He was lying on a pallet of rough blankets and she was leaning over him. Nearby, a hurricane lamp flickered.

Instead of a silky gown, she wore a much more practical s.h.i.+rt and britches. It was obvious that she had come to tend his wounds, because she had uncovered the leg that had gotten caught in the trap and was rubbing some kind of balm onto his flesh. But in his sleep, he had transformed the encounter into a scene where they were touching and kissing. And he had thought she was his life mate. Was she?

He was still caught in the reality of the dream.

When she lifted her head to look at him, he dragged in a shaky breath.

"How are you?"

"Better. Thanks to you."

"You have a strong const.i.tution."

"How do you know?"

"Some people die from the bite of that trap."

"Oh, great."

He would rather think about life than death. He had gotten close to her in his imagination. And he wanted the same thing in reality. Clasping his hand around her shoulder, he pulled her toward him. Perhaps he caught her off balance, because she made a small sound as she came down hard on top of him.

He cradled her body against his, feeling her b.r.e.a.s.t.s press into him and the curve of her hip. "Nice," he murmured, nuzzling his lips against her cheek.

But she wasn't the woman of the dream. She struggled in his hold, and when she pushed against his shoulder, he gasped.

Her palm had come down on the cut, sending pain shooting through his shoulder.

"Sorry," they both said at the same time.

She sat up again, finding her balance.

He studied the haunted look on her face. Then her expression turned practical. "Do you have to go to the bathroom?" she asked, and he knew she was deliberately putting distance between them.

"Yeah," he admitted.

He didn't love the idea of a woman helping him to the bathroom, but he wasn't going to ask the old guy for any a.s.sistance. So he let her get him to his feet, then lead him to an enclosure where they'd built a makes.h.i.+ft toilet just before the point where the fast-running underground stream exited the cave.

He managed not to fall into the water while he used the facilities, then staggered out again. It took all the strength he had left to make it back to bed. Once he was horizontal again, he felt her hands on his forehead, and he let her think he was slipping into sleep.

As he relaxed, so did she. When she pulled her hand away, he lay very still, his eyes half-closed. His thoughts were confused, dream and reality twisting together in a pattern he couldn't quite grasp.

But he could tell she was skittish around him. And she certainly hadn't enjoyed being naked in the woods once she had changed back to human form.

The casual thought hit him like bolt of lightning. This was no ordinary woman. She was a werewolf. How the h.e.l.l was that possible? He'd never even heard of a female werewolf before-he hadn't believed they existed.

In the dream, he had thought she was his mate-the woman he had been longing to meet. And that longing seemed to have carried over into real life. Yet he knew almost nothing about her.

He ached to find out more, but instead of bombarding her with questions, he lay back against the pallet, letting his eyelids flutter, as though staying awake was too much effort.

As he pretended to drift into sleep, she sighed, and he thought he caught the edge of relief in that sigh.

When he'd first awakened, her hands had been light as they examined his wounds. Now that he was supposedly unconscious again, he felt her touch grow a bit stronger as she rubbed salve into the cut.

He struggled not to let her know he was reacting to the touch of her small hands on his flesh.

She made a low humming sound as she worked over him. Then she stood, and he heard her move a few feet away.

Apparently the old man had been watching the scene from somewhere nearby. Haig came forward, speaking in a low voice.

But Logan caught the words.

"I see he's housebroken."

"Of course!"

"Why are you getting so intimate with him?"

"I'm not! I'm tending his wounds."

The old man snorted. "I still think we should kill him."

CHAPTER FIVE.

WHEN RINNA ANSWERED, her voice held as much sorrow as concern. "Haig, what's happened to you?"

He replied with an angry snarl. "I'm tired of watching my back all the time-and yours. I'm being practical. Like I said, he could be a spy."

"Let's a.s.sume he's an innocent bystander," she said gently.

"He could be a spy for another city. Maybe the Preserve at Eden Brook. Or White Flint."

"They why hasn't he asked for Information about Sun Acres?"

"He's waiting until he's sure we're not working for Falcone. Then he could ask us to join him."