mansion.'
'Rene owes me. I want him to fulfill his promises, nothing more.'
'Rene makes no more promises than I do.'
'Not even to the virginal Neva?'
'Not even.' Yet the words tasted sour on his lips. If ever he could have made promises with someone, it might have been Neva. 'But while we're on the subject of Neva, quit telling her tales about you and me.
There is no you and me. There never has been.'
Her eyes glittered, but he wasn't sure if it was tears or merely the light catching the silver in her eyes.
'You lie. Look into your heart, Duncan.'
'I have looked into my heart.' And up until this moon phase, he'd thought it incapable of any sort of emotional depths.
'Bastard.' Her soft voice was filled with hatred. 'So I'm beginning to believe,' he muttered and turned, walking out of the house and away from its crazy occupants.
He stopped on the veranda and watched the storm. The snow had eased, but the wind hadn't, and the day was still bitingly cold. Not the sort of day you wanted to be out in.
Not the sort of day you wanted to find yourself unconscious in.
For one second, he froze. Then he swore and dove into the storm, running as if the hounds of hell were after him. He didn't feel the tempest blowing around him. Didn't feel the cold. Didn't even feel the pavement pounding under his feet. All he could feel was an odd sort of numbness, creeping slowly through his body, as if his strength was being sucked away by an unknown force.
Only it wasn't truly unknown. It was Neva, siphoning his strength to bolster hers.
He'd never truly feared before, but he did now. For her.
For them.
Because if she could do that, then this thing between them went far deeper than he'd thought, far deeper than just a moon dance.
Wouldn't it be the mother of all ironies if, in a matter of days, he'd managed to destroy the one thing he'd spent half his life searching for?
More than eight blocks separated Betise's house and Neva's. He crossed them in record time, slowing only as he reached her house. He opened the gate, then hesitated, looking at the windblown whiteness to his right. She wasn't home. She was down there, somewhere.
He didn't question his certainty. Didn't dare. He swore again, a growl of sound the wind quickly snatched away, and hurried forward. The sullen gleam of a streetlight became visible, indicating that he was approaching another road. He stopped on the corner, glancing to his left.
And saw her huddled against the curb, looking like little more like a brightly-colored bundle of snow-
covered rags than a woman. His gut twisted, and for a second he couldn't seem to breathe. Then he was beside her, stripping off his gloves and slipping his fingers under her woolen ski mask, feeling for a pulse. It was there, nice and steady. He checked her ears, then her fingers and her feet. All were well covered. All were warm. Relief slithered through him. Hypothermia didn't appear to have struck yet. He stripped off his coat, then his sweater, rolling it lengthways and carefully placing it around her neck. As improvised cervical collars went, it wasn't the best, but it was a hell of a lot better than risking moving her without it. He carefully turned her over. No blood. That might be good. Might be bad.
'Neva?' He lightly tapped her cheeks. Her color was good, and he could feel the warmth of her skin through the mask.
Her eyes fluttered, and a smile touched her lips. A carefree, easy sort of smile that did strange things to his heart's rhythm.
Neva?
She giggled, and he raised an eyebrow in surprise. It sounded for all the world like she was drunk. Are you okay?
Okay? No. Perfect? Yes.
Her words made him smile. She was perfect, in almost every way imaginable. He picked up his coat and tried to wrap it around her, but she slapped his hands away with a laugh. It was such a carefree sound he almost laughed with her, despite the concern swamping him. What happened? He managed to avoid her hands and finally wrapped the coat around her.
A truck happened. Clipped me.
She seemed to be moving all right, and he could no longer sense pain in her mind. Still, he'd better get her to the hospital, just to be sure.
No. Take me home. Please.
Her mind speech was a little indistinct, yet he could smell no alcohol on her breath. You need to go to the hospital. There might be internal injuries. No! Her words might be slurred but the alarm in her voice was clear and forceful. I'm okay. My parents are there. I can't talk to them yet.
She touched a gloved hand to his cheek, her bright eyes catching his. Her pupils were slightly dilated, but not with desire. He suspected she'd been drugged. But with what? And could he risk not taking her to the hospital when she might have been overdosed?
'Please.' Her voice was soft. Imploring. 'Just trust me and do as I ask.'
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He was a fool for even risking a compromise, but he opened his eyes and said, 'I'll take you home and check you over. If I think you should go to the hospital, you'll go, okay?' Her relief slithered through him, flame bright. 'Okay.' He picked her up, cradling her close.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder and sighed almost contentedly. 'Home, James,' she murmur ed, in a ritzy sort of way. Her warm breath caressed his neck and breathed life into the embers of desire. Moons, simply holding her felt so good. So damn right.
He kicked open her front gate and hurried up the steps. Her front door was unlocked, and he shook his head, unable to believe any woman living alone in this day and age could be so trusting. Even a relatively small town like Ripple Creek had its fair share of creeps. And she had probably cast him as one of them. He pushed the thought away and headed up the stairs to her bedroom. Thankfully, she'd left the heat on, and the house was warm.
'I like your thinking,' she said, as he placed her on the bed. 'No better way to warm up a cold body than a good bout of sex.'
He squatted in front of her and carefully took off her boots, then her woolen socks. Her feet and toes were warm.
'You know this for a fact?' he asked, glancing up with a smile.
She sniffed and lifted her nose, her expression haughty but green eyes twinkling. 'I have been told,' she said in the best impression of snobbery he'd ever heard. 'Extreme physical activity is not good for someone who might have hypothermia.' He rose and unwound his makeshift collar, then undid her coat and discovered another one underneath. No wonder she was so warm. 'I haven't got hypothermia.'
No, thankfully she didn't. He tossed her coats to one side and started undoing her shirt. 'But you have been hit by a car, and you're probably under the influence of some sort of drug.' He doubted she'd be in such a playful mood otherwise. Not after what he'd said only an hour or so earlier.
She touched a finger to his face, running it gently down to his lips. It was a touch that burned right down to his soul.
'How about we try some extreme physical activity right now?' Her voice was low and so damn sexy heat shot to his groin.
He ached to do just that. It might still be the afternoon, and the moon might be on the other side of the world, but right now he wanted her as fiercely as he'd ever wanted anyone during the moon's rush. But as much as he wanted her, he didn't want to take advantage of her. Not any more than he already had.
Her shirt joined her coats, followed quickly by her bra.
'See anything you like?' She leaned back, all but thrusting her wonderful breasts in his face.
Everything. But he resisted the urge to bury his face in her bountiful flesh and twined his fingers through hers, gently tugging her upright. 'Where did you go after I left?' He released her, but she swayed slightly, and he quickly touched a hand to her waist to steady her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a happy
