Bait This! (A 300 Moons Book) Page 10

  “That’s cool, we don’t have to,” he told her.

  “Really?” she asked. She’d never met a man who could resist trying to fix a damsel in distress. Their egos made them incapable.

  “Yeah. I’ve got a sister you remind me of,” he remarked. “Wish she would let her hair down with the people who care about her once in a while. I figure if I pry right now you’ll never let me see you like that again.”

  Stunned, Hedda absorbed his choice of words.

  Was he implying that he cared about her? That he planned to see her again? The magic usually made men say things like: You’re so beautiful when you’re crying. There was never any comparison to their sisters, no accusations of being too tough.

  She leaned back against him to think and heard his quick intake of breath.

  Then she felt the reason for it. Oh.

  He wanted her, the evidence was right there. But he wasn’t pushing himself on her and he wasn’t begging.

  Any man who had ever been this close before had been falling all over himself, begging or pushing for more under her spell. The feeling of being with a man who had self-control was dizzyingly exciting.

  Her own body responded instantly.

  She was trembling slightly and didn’t know where to put her hands. She wanted to lean back harder against him, but she was unwilling to be the aggressor. The warmth of the fire and the blankets faded as her focus shifted to the feel of Derek’s body around hers and the sound of his breathing.

  29

  Suddenly, it was like the air went out of the room. Hedda trembled in his arms, and he could smell her arousal, musky and sweet.

  The bear held its breath.

  Derek was at once relieved and anxious. This meant he would not be pushed to do the bear’s will. But he would also have to act without its guidance.

  Only his heightened senses and the double volume of the bear’s desire humming alongside his own could show him the way.

  For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he held himself in check, luxuriating in the feel of her in his arms, drowning in the sweet anticipation of the pleasure he was about to bring her.

  Surely she wouldn’t resist this time.

  He tried not to think about the last time.

  Slowly, he lowered his face into her neck. Her dark hair was smooth against the rough shadow on his jaw. She smelled heavenly.

  He heard her exhale and rejoiced as she tilted her head to the side to give him better access.

  He slid one hand off her waist to brush the hair off her neck. There was a tiny mole on her shoulder and he bent to kiss it softly.

  Hedda shivered and he could feel her anticipation.

  He bent again and brushed his lips against the back of her neck.

  She sighed again, an invitation.

  He wrapped her hair in his hand and tightened the other around her waist. Then he sank back to her neck again, kissing with a warm open mouth, sucking and nipping.

  She went still in his arms, seeming to swoon, and then she cried out, arching herself back against him and driving him wild with lust.

  He ripped his attention away from her nape. This teasing was too much, he was apt to claim her if he allowed himself to torture them both this way.

  That particular thing she would have to want, to beg for, before he would allow it to happen.

  Right now, he simply wanted to fill her with pleasure, illuminate her with it, so that there could be no corner for pain or darkness to hide in.

  Sorrowfully, he pulled away from her, his aching cock protesting the loss of the gentle contact with her posterior.

  Hedda made a small sound of disappointment and he heard himself almost crooning in answer.

  “I know what you need. I’ll help you, love. Just lie down,” he told her.

  She obeyed, her dark hair spread beneath her on the blanket, the firelight dancing in her hungry lavender eyes.

  Derek battled with his patience, delirious with the need to taste her.

  He leaned down and brushed her lips with his. Heaven…

  He pulled back and studied her expression, eyes still closed and dreamy, her lips pouting and slightly swollen.

  Before she could open her eyes, he had his mouth on hers again.

  She submitted to his kiss, though he kissed her so long that they both should have been suffocating. Even when he thumbed her jaw to coax her mouth open, her tongue rose up to meet his, pulling and sucking at him, breaking down his resistance.

  He was so hard it hurt. Pressing against the roughness of the borrowed beach towel gave him pain and pleasure in equal parts.

  Good, he told himself. Good, if it hurts me, then I can focus on her.

  He forced himself to pull away from her mouth and trail kisses down her neck and onto her chest, until he reached the place where the blanket she wore like a dress was tucked.

  30

  Hedda froze. This was the moment of truth.

  Her eyes popped open and she looked up at him.

  God, he was a vision.

  His big muscular body straddled hers, dark hair falling in front of his gorgeous blue eyes, his jaw taut with need.

  The glow of the fire highlighted every bulge and valley between those incredible muscles.

  But she didn’t need firelight to see the other bulge. Her eyes were drawn straight to the towel, which was stretched tight over the most massive organ she’d ever seen. The engorged tip of its head was just visible over the top of the fabric.

  Hedda concentrated on not fainting.

  “May I?” he asked her, indicating the blanket, and bringing her back to the moment she’d been avoiding.

  Her face must have shown her concerns.

  To her despair, he lay himself down next to her and stroked her forehead, the only part of her body that wasn’t screaming for his touch.

  “I can’t believe you’re shy, but I guess it’s inevitable,” he said softly.

  “I’m not shy,” she retorted. Damn it, why was he so perceptive?

  “You know, I’ve never been with a woman who wasn’t,” he told her. “And they were all beautiful. And none of them could hold a candle to you.”

  Of course they couldn’t, they weren’t souped up with magic. At least she knew now that he was still seeing it.

  And his hand on her forehead was driving her nuts.

  She raised herself to her elbows, looked him in the eyes, and wrenched the blanket apart.

  She fought the temptation to look down at herself and instead took in his response.

  His eyes were luminous, his nostrils flared. The hand that had been smoothing her forehead was suddenly laced in her hair.

  She arched her back up to him, offering.

  He growled and bent to kiss her again, ravaging her mouth with his.

  Then he was on her, nuzzling her breasts, his five o’clock shadow lightly abrading the sensitive skin.

  Her body was shot through with need and she couldn’t look down at him anymore for fear she would combust. Hedda stared up at the ceiling and wrenched the blankets in her hands as he licked and sucked lightly on her nipples.

  Then he was kissing down, down, nipping her soft belly, and nuzzling her thighs, rough cheeks against her soft flesh.

  “No, you don’t have to—” she began.

  He growled, actually growled, and bit down on her thigh so that she felt it deep inside, the tiny zap of pain awakening her own beast of pleasure. It was building inside her, though he hadn’t touched her yet.

  He looked up at her, searing her with his intense blue gaze.

  “I need to taste you,” he stated plainly.

  Hedda forgot how to speak.

  He raised one eyebrow.

  “Y—yes,” she managed.

  Then his face was buried in her.

  There was no exploring, no tasting. This was a gorging, a feast, a plundering.

  Hedda’s head fell back and she tried to find an anchor for her mind in the raging sea of pleasure.


  When Derek pressed one large warm finger against her, the sense of relief was so great that she couldn’t help lifting her hips to help him.

  Then his finger was inside her, while outside, his tongue was lapping, swirling, massaging, teasing. The waves of pleasure carried Hedda away.

  And knowing it was Derek, touching her, the man who saved her, who made her laugh, who stopped himself from making dopey speeches about her beauty to say she was strong and smart- it was too much.

  “Please,” she begged recklessly, “please, please.”

  He moaned into her sex, and she felt him strum her most sensitive place with his hot tongue.

  For a gravity defying moment Hedda was stretched through space and time.

  Then the pleasure crushed her, and she lost track of her own sounds as Derek lavished and suckled every frisson of pleasure from her until there was nothing left.

  31

  Derek reeled, his hands and mouth slippery with Hedda’s fragrance.

  He laid his head against her chest, and listened to her heart and her breath return to normal, while his own pulse slammed an insistent drumbeat through his poor cock.

  At last he felt her hands in his hair.

  “Derek, Derek,” she murmured.

  He smiled to himself. Good, she was overwhelmed, just how he wanted her.

  She wriggled and he lifted himself off her.

  “Sorry, I’m too heavy for that,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Let me help you up, we’ve got to get you bundled up and warm again.”

  She shook her head and he watched as she crawled to him, as if in slow motion.

  Her hands were on his thighs, her pink tongue darting out to moisten her lips before he could try to stop her.

  “Hedda, you don’t have to do that, I’m fine, baby. You need to rest,” he told her.

  But his protests were empty, because he couldn’t find the strength to push her off. Even though he was afraid that if she did what she wanted, he wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to claim her.

  Her smooth little hands were already pulling at the towel, sliding it down his hips.

  Shit. The weird tattoo-thing. He couldn’t let her see it.

  He did his best to keep it covered with one hand as she pulled the towel away, releasing his cock.

  This was the moment of truth. Derek knew he was in possession of a monster. Would she be intimidated, or would she go on with her plan?

  Hedda’s eyes grew round and she leaned forward.

  He could almost feel the caress of her gaze as he swelled even further.

  She leaned forward, her fingers digging into his hips, and pressed her hot lips against the tip of him.

  He let his head fall back and practically howled.

  The sweet warmth began to envelope him, bit by bit, her tongue dragging over his head and flicking out over every ridge and vein of his near-bursting organ.

  The pleasure was so intense he couldn’t contain himself. He heard the primal sounds that were coming from his own throat and was powerless to stop.

  Then she began to move faster on him, sucking lightly, then harder, as if to test him.

  The urge to flip her over and claim her was overwhelming. Valiantly, Derek struggled between the beast, and the cruel, delicious teasing mouth of the woman he loved, trying to find a way to please them both but losing his mind in the process.

  When she brought a soft hand up to follow the path of her mouth, he finally hit his breaking point.

  Wrapping a hand in her dark hair, he tried to pull her away.

  Hedda made a sound of protest that vibrated through her mouth as she clung to him.

  He let go and felt the world recede as the pleasure ripped through him. In that moment, there was nothing in the universe but the sight of Hedda’s beautiful violet eyes as she greedily swallowed every drop he had to give.

  Just as the pleasure was about to fade into a floating euphoria, a searing pain slammed against his hip.

  He staggered to his knees beside her.

  32

  “What’s wrong, Derek?” Hedda asked. “What happened?”

  He was in pain, she could see it in his eyes. Had she hurt him in some way?

  “It’s nothing,” he said, looking away.

  But he winced again and his hand went to his hip.

  She moved in, brushing his hand away for a better look.

  On the taut skin of his perfect hip, a black tattoo swirled as if it were taking shape.

  Before Hedda’s eyes, it lengthened and wrapped around itself.

  Derek threw his head back again, this time in agony. A deep howl rose from his throat.

  The swirling black slowed, and then went still.

  It had fixed itself on his hip, in shining onyx. The picture was as clear as day: a tribal shape of a bear.

  Instinctively, Hedda knew it had nothing to do with the demon outside. This marking wasn’t evil magic. It was good magic, she could feel that much, at least.

  Was this the haze she’d read on him before? Had this been slowly forming? And why?

  Derek sank to the floor, a sheen of sweat on his brow.

  “That’s it, then,” he murmured.

  Hedda waited, sure he would tell her what was happening, if she could only keep her mouth shut long enough.

  At length, he leaned back on one hand, and used the other to trace the marking on his hip.

  “Funny.” His deep voice carried a hint of sadness.

  Finally he looked up at Hedda.

  “I guess you want to know what this is all about,” he said.

  She nodded.

  “I was brought to Harkness Farms as a child, because I shifted at a very young age. I was too young to be controlled, I would have been dangerous in a normal household. Mom had a friend, Mrs. Cortez. She had magic, like you. She would sing over each of us when we arrived at the farm. I think what she was doing, was casting a spell to hold our animals inside, at least, enough that we couldn’t let them out without wanting to.”

  “That’s amazing, I’ve never heard of anyone doing that,” Hedda replied. It sounded well beyond the realm of the magic any of the Lane sisters had reach over.

  “Mrs. Cortez had never done it before either. All we knew was that we were given 300 moons under the protection of that spell. And then… the price of the magic had to be paid. We never knew how, or what the price would be. I don’t even think she knew.”

  He looked nervous, though he shouldn’t. Hedda would never judge him for this. As a matter of fact, she was fascinated and dying to meet Mrs. Cortez so that they could discuss this spell in detail. If it had been administered to many children there must be variations in application and results, each of which could be studied and ruminated on at length, and then used to learn more about the magic, maybe even to grow it.

  “This is the 300th moon since my song. Tonight I paid the price. And I think my bear is on my skin now, because he’s not in it anymore,” Derek said softly.

  “What do you mean?” Hedda asked.

  “I denied him,” Derek said firmly. There was a faraway look in his blue eyes.

  Hedda wasn’t sure something like that was even possible. Could someone just lose their animal like that? Even if Derek had denied it, the bear was surely still part of him.

  “How do you feel?” Hedda heard herself ask. It was a stupid question, there was only one way he could possibly feel - broken.

  “I don’t know,” he replied.

  The storm outside was kicking up. For a moment they sat in silence listening to the rain lash the windows and the wind shiver through the pieces of glass hung in the trees outside.

  Then there was a flash of light, and a terrible crash.

  Derek’s arms went around her and he covered her with his body. Hedda stared into the quilt on the floor as the lights winked out and wrenching, groaning sounds filled the room. There was a rush of cold air, and she felt rain on her shoulder.

  Derek rolled off her and
she looked up.

  At first she couldn’t understand what she saw. It was as if she were in a tree house, the ceiling bursting with greenery, and snatches of the sky visible.

  Then everything slid back into focus. The old sycamore tree had fallen on the house. Through the house. And it was no accident.

  “Derek, be ready,” she called to him over the sound of the rain as it filled their dinner dishes and saturated the old sofa. “The protections are gone now. It’s coming.”

  33

  Before the words were out of her mouth, Derek sensed it. And then it was swooping in, a dark presence, the absence of rain and wind, a shadow.

  But in the fresh darkness of the cottage, it was impossible to keep his eye on it. The flickering firelight provided only glimpses of illumination.

  Hedda was still on the floor, with her arms wrapped around herself. She had begun to chant again.

  He launched himself over the kitchen counter and searched the drawers until he found what he needed, a flashlight.

  Flashing the beam around the room, he spotted the dark creature.

  It swirled in a corkscrew shape above Hedda. But what she couldn’t see from her angle was that its tail had curved behind her, ready to enter her ear.

  Thoughtlessly, he grabbed her kitchen stool and launched it at the vile thing.

  It hit one of the weird buckets of rocks around the perimeter of the room instead. Polished stones scattered.

  The shadow jumped, seeming to shy from the stones.

  Hedda looked up at him, her violet eyes flashing with hope.

  “Knock them all down,” she cried. “Make a circle with them.”

  The shadow took advantage of the opening in her chant and got within an inch of her mouth before she started again.

  Derek couldn’t take his eyes away from the awful scene, but she looked at him again with meaning, and he scrambled up.

  The buckets were everywhere and they were heavy. The first one had been only half full.

  He began dumping the stones in a circle but it was going to take too long, especially while contending with tree branches and pieces of the ceiling. The place where the door used to be was completely blocked by the trunk of the tree. There was no time. Hedda was holding on, but the thing was going to get the better of her and quickly.