Taken at Dusk (Shadow Falls #3)(26)

Kylie recalled how he'd stiffened earlier when she'd taken up for Derek. Was he angry at her, too? The thought of hurting him when he'd risked his life to save her made her stomach clutch. He didn't deserve that, not that she'd meant to hurt him. But neither did Derek deserve to be blamed for trying to help her.

He started off the porch and looked back.

His eyes were a brighter orange now. Kylie remembered a time she would have freaked out at seeing an angry werewolf. Heck, she remembered a time when she hadn't believed werewolves existed, angry or not.

"You coming?" Lucas asked.

Chapter Nine

She could say no, but she didn't want to. She followed him. The sun hung low, but its light clung to the sky. However, once they moved into the woods and under the umbrella of the trees, the remnants of daylight faded into dusk. They walked without talking.

She remembered the dead bird and the ghost's announcement that someone else was out there. Fear brushed against Kylie's neck. Almost as if she could feel the hot breath of something evil on her nape, she reached up and tried to brush away the sensation. Everything seemed to grow darker.

"Should we be going into the woods?" She heard a rustle and looked to her left. And she walked right into Lucas's back, unaware that he'd stopped. He turned and she saw him lift up his face as if to sniff the air.

"You're scared of me?" he asked.

Even through the dimness she could see anger in his expression.

"No. I'm scared of ... other things." She didn't know what to call them.

"Scared Derek will hear you went off with me?" His tone came with accusation.

"No."

He swung back around and commenced walking again. She matched his steps. He stopped abruptly and faced her again.

"I said I'd be patient and I will, but I won't be made a fool of."

"I didn't make a fool of you," she insisted.

"You stood up for Derek."

"I just stated the facts. You were wrong to blame Derek." Her throat tightened again. She'd been fighting tears all day, and this time when they crawled up her throat, she was helpless.

She turned away, hoping to stop them before he saw. But when she reached up to swipe away the first tear, he caught her hand. How he could have moved in front of her without making a sound was unnerving.

He let go of a deep breath. "I didn't mean to upset you, it's just..."

She tried to tell him it wasn't him making her cry, but the concern in his tone had the knot in her throat doubling in size. The next thing she knew she was against his chest, her tears and almost silent sobs being absorbed by his pale blue T-shirt and his extra warm chest.

His arms were around her and she felt his cheek resting on top of her head. She felt safe. Safe and something else. She felt cherished. The way his arms held her, the way every inch of him embraced her-she wanted to stay here. Savor it.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, her face still buried against him. "I shouldn't be sliming up your shirt."

"Is it over?" His words tickled the top of her head.

"Is what over? My crying?" She wasn't ready to give up the wall of muscle or having his arms around her. Nor was she ready to let him see her all red and splotchy.

"No. You and Derek." His tone deepened, and she sensed it was hard for him to even ask the question.

"Yeah." She nodded her head against him.

His arms tightened around her. She almost sighed because it felt so good.

"Then you're welcome to slime my shirt," he said, and the undercurrent of anger vanished. "I don't have a lot of rules, but that's one of them. Only uncommitted girls can slime my shirt."

She chuckled.

"Is that a smile I feel against my chest?" His words stirred her hair.

"A slimy one." She snaked her hand up between their bodies to clear her face before looking up.

"I'll bet it's still beautiful."

He inched back, and in the dark woodsy light, she felt his eyes on her.

"You might lose the bet." She wanted to cover her face but would feel silly doing it.

"You're right, I would have lost." He laughed. "You don't cry pretty."

She thumped his solid chest with her palm. He laughed again.

"Come on." He fitted his hand in hers and started walking again, deeper into the woods. With the night sounds around them, she tuned her ears and waited for it to go silent-for something bad to suddenly appear.

She gave his hand a slight pull. "Let's go back the other way."

He turned and studied her. "What are you afraid of?"

"If we walk out of the woods, I'll tell you." She tried to make light of the dread gnawing at her gut.

A frown pulled at his brows. "I wouldn't let anything hurt you."

"I know, but I'd feel better if we went that way." She nodded back to the clearing.

"Fine." He began walking in that direction. "But start talking. Why are you afraid? Is it still the elderly couple?"

"No." She wished she could see the clearing of the woods ahead, but the night seemed to close in on her.

Suddenly, something dark whooshed down from a tree. She lurched back and pulled him with her. Her heart shot up in her throat. She tightened her hand in his, and with everything she had, she started to run. He ran with her, two people moving in one solid, fluid motion, his palm clutched tightly in hers.