Stroke of Midnight (Nightcreature #1.5)(92)

"I saw Old Feller," I muttered. "I so don't want to go there."

"Relax. No weaving. No drooling. I've seen rabid animals. This one wasn't."

"Then what the hell?"

Clay lifted his eyes and scanned the steadily encroaching darkness. "The skin walker's controlling the wolves."

As if they'd heard him speak, a chorus of howls rose toward the rising red moon. A heated haze made the orb appear wobbly.

"Controlling how?"

"A skinwalker is both witch and werewolf. I have no idea what the extent of its powers might be." He stared at the horizon for several moments. "We'd better find a cave."

"Is that where they hide?"

He jerked his head in the direction of the howls. "Does that sound like they're hiding to you? They're coming after us. We need a place where our backs are protected and I can set a trap. You ready?"

I jumped to my feet without his help. "Let's go."

Clay led me over rocks—no tracks, little scent—to the east, then the west. I was exhausted by the time he found a cave.

We squeezed through a hole that opened on a room just large enough for us to lie down and move around a little. The fit was far from ideal, though Clay said he couldn't have constructed a better place for us to make a stand. There was even a small puddle of water near the back of the hallowed-out cavern, a miracle at this time of year.

The howls had faded as we hurried through the night. Clay set up his ingenious trap in front of the entrance—something with sticks and rocks that looked like a child's game from the Stone Age. He covered the tiny entrance with brush, leaving an opening at the top for the nearly full moon to shine through.

"Anything trotting by in the dark should just keep on keep-in' on," Clay said, as he bathed my wolf bite with water from the puddle.

"Do you think we lost them?"

"Maybe." He lifted his eyes to mine and shrugged. "Did you want me to lie?"

"Yep."

He smiled and smoothed my hair. "I promised I'd protect you."

His smile faded when his fingers brushed the scrape on my cheek. I reached up and put my hand on top of his, pressing his palm to the reddened skin. "I know you will."

For a minute I thought he might kiss me and I caught my breath. But he slipped his hand from beneath mine and busied himself tearing another strip from his T-shirt.

The garment barely covered his pecs. I had a hard time focusing on anything but smooth, rippling skin until he tightened the bandage on my wrist with a little too much force. "Hey!"

"Sorry." He let his hands fall to his lap. "I haven't done a very good job of protecting you so far."

"You saved my life. Several times. I'm sticking with you, Clay. Alone I'd be meat. Together, we'll be all right."

He stared into my face, as if trying to gauge my sincerity, then patted the elbow of my injured arm. "As long as that doesn't get infected, we're all set."

Infection. What a pleasant thought.

"Lucky you got bitten by a wolf." Scooting closer to the entrance, he drew up his knees and rested his wrists on top. He held both the Ruger and the Beretta. "In ancient times domestic dogs, the descendants of wolves, licked their masters' wounds. Their mouths held healing properties."

"I should be hokey-pokey then."

"As soon as we get you some antibiotics. Go to sleep, Maya. That's the best thing you can do."

I took off my flannel shirt and used it for a pillow. The cave warmed from the heat of our bodies, but the ground was hard and always would be. I didn't expect to sleep, but I did.

I awoke to an ear splitting chorus of howls. The sound reverberated through the small cave. I sat up with a gasp. The moon had shifted; the cave was dark.

A hand clamped over my mouth. I would have struggled, even screamed, except Clay's touch, his scent, his very taste was familiar.

My tongue darted out to meet his palm, and he started, then pulled away as if I'd burned him.

Paws padded outside. Noses snuffled, tracing the ground for a hint of our scent, but none came close to where we hid in the darkness.

A solitary howl in the distance was answered by the others nearer our hideaway. The snuffling ended, the paws retreated. We were alone.

"They're gone," Clay whispered, his breath warm, arousing, along the sensitive skin below my ear.

I turned my head, our noses brushed, and the next instant our mouths met. Who kissed whom? I have no idea. I only know that I'd never wanted anyone as I wanted him. I didn't care how close to death we'd come, how close we might yet come. Perhaps that was even the reason behind our desperation. If tomorrow was the end, at least we had tonight.

The complete darkness surrounding us was as arousing as the texture of his skin beneath my fingertips and the taste of his mouth against mine. I kept my eyes wide open, yet I couldn't see a thing. Every touch a surprise, each caress was a mystery.

I let my hands drift over the stomach that had tantalized me, allowed my fingernails to scrape the pectorals I'd fantasized about. What was left of his shirt disappeared, as did every stitch I now owned. The only strip of cloth on my body remained wrapped around my wrist.

Nudity had always embarrassed me. I wasn't small. Too many hours spent with my butt in a chair meant I wasn't toned. I'd never be tan. Men had wanted me, but they had never yearned. In the darkness, I was a goddess and Clay was my slave.