Bait This! (A 300 Moons Book) Read online

  He gave her a crooked smile.

  “Sorry about my feet, they’re pretty muddy. I don’t suppose I could impose on you for a hot shower?”

  An image of this gigantic hunk with rivulets of water running down his already naked body, and steam rising from his bulging muscles, streaked across Hedda’s imagination before she could stop it.

  “Sure, um, wait there,” she said, looking away.

  She bolted out of the room and into the bathroom.

  It was covered in clothing, potions, and lady products. It wasn’t like the Lane women ever had company.

  She grabbed an armload of embarrassing stuff and shoved it into the linen closet.

  Then she started the water for him. The little room was soon steaming away merrily.

  “Come on in,” she called to him.

  A moment later she heard him padding across the pine floor.

  When she turned to greet him, she nearly fell into the shower herself.

  He was standing in the doorway again, taking up the entire frame, just as he had at the front door.

  Except this time he was close to her, so close she could lean in, without meaning to, and rest her head against the plane of his tanned chest.

  The haze of steam rose up around them, giving the moment a feeling of magic.

  Hedda just gaped at him for a few seconds then promptly turned red. She could feel the heat of the blush all the way to her hairline. Curse her fair complexion.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice husky. “Do you want to go in first?”

  “Nope, I’m fine. Just let me know if you need anything,” she offered inanely, as she scurried out of the room.

  Her last glimpse of him as she pulled the door shut was of his twinkling eyes, and, she swore, his dilated nostrils. Was he sniffing her?

  Classic shifter.

  Except that he wasn’t begging her to shower with him. Which either meant that he was strong, or that her magic was fading after so much use. Not a good sign.

  Pushing the idea out of her head, she strode to her room and began to peel off her wet clothes.

  She wished she had a way to contact her sisters. But to reach for them now would take magic, more than she had left at her disposal. If the demon stayed away, she might be able to rest and recover.

  The sound of the bathroom door opening roused Hedda from her reverie.

  She grabbed her sheet and pulled it around herself quickly.

  Derek was padding toward her, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. A towel that she swore was a beach towel, but that looked about as big as a napkin on the enormous man, somehow making him look more naked than he had looked when he was naked.

  His wet hair was slicked back, but already one section had escaped and was hanging in front of his blue eyes.

  He studied her calmly.

  Hedda felt food-like. As if she were the last bacon-wrapped fig hors d’oeuvre at a party, and he was about to pounce on the whole tray to devour her.

  Her traitorous body went weak with lust. He was going to kiss her again, and she was going to let him this time.

  He stopped moving, his beautiful jaw clenched in restraint, his hands in fists by his sides.

  So, no kissing, then?

  And damn it, she was not supposed to be thinking about kissing, or anything except regaining her magic so that she could fight the demon.

  “You should take a shower too. It’s warm, you’ll feel better,” he said, looking down at the floor.

  She nodded and pushed past him, ignoring the flicker of electricity when her arm brushed against his chest.

  Once in the bathroom, she set her sheet on the counter and stepped into the shower.

  As soon as the hot water hit her skin, she felt better. When she was finally warm down to her bones, she stopped soaking and began to wash.

  As she worked the warm suds into a lather she found it impossible to keep Derek out of her thoughts.

  What it would feel like if these were his hands smoothing gently over her breasts, sliding slowly down her belly and gliding between her legs?

  Her breath caught and for just a moment she let the sensations wash over her.

  Footsteps just outside the door roused her.

  Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, he was a shifter.

  Which meant he could probably smell her arousal and draw his own conclusions.

  Chastened, she finished her shower quickly, dried off, wrapped the towel around herself, and dashed into her room again.

  Thankfully, he wasn’t in the hallway waiting.

  She wrapped a huge blanket around herself. She was already too cold again to try to get dressed, besides, when in Rome…

  27

  Derek paced in front of the fireplace, giving himself a stern speech in his mind.

  You gave her a chance to say no earlier, and she said no. She crawled out of your lap like you were on fire. She doesn’t want you.

  Unfortunately, the bear was giving him a speech right back. But it was more of a series of scents and images.

  The scent of her hair under his nose. The feel of her fists against his ass as he’d carried her here. Her warm arms as she dragged him out of the water earlier. The sound of her laughter. The salty sweet scent of her hands on her sex a moment ago. She was ready for him, so ready.

  The sound of the shower turning off had them both on high alert.

  Derek mentally swatted the bear’s nose.

  Behave.

  He headed over to the kitchen area, hoping that if he could find something to cook it might endear him to her. Plus, he was starving.

  The fridge was empty but he banged around in the cupboards and found plenty of dry ingredients.

  Before long, he was humming and flipping pancakes. He’d found a small shelf of spices in glass bottles by the stove. A little cinnamon and nutmeg had given the batter a rich color and the aroma was filling the room. The dried cherries were swelling up nice and juicy too. He was very pleased.

  The bedroom door closed and he smelled her coming, sweeter than cherries, richer than spice.

  He looked up to find that she had stopped in her tracks.

  “Hey, I hope it’s okay I made myself at home in the kitchen,” he said.

  She nodded wordlessly, padding toward him with interest. She had a big blanket wrapped around herself. Was that all she was wearing?

  She looked so feminine, so much more vulnerable. She was relaxing, showing him a side of herself that wasn’t all magic warrior. It tugged at his heart.

  “It smells good,” she murmured.

  “Thanks,” he replied gruffly.

  He was smiling too hard for the small compliment. But he couldn’t help it, he just felt good that she was pleased.

  “I’ll grab some plates,” she told him, brushing against him on her way.

  It was inevitable that she would have to touch him to move in the tiny space, but he found himself weaving visions of her sneaking up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, her breasts pressed into his back.

  “It smells too good,” she remarked, setting two plates on the counter. “What’s in there?”

  “I added a few spices, no big deal,” he told her. “It smells good because you’re hungry.”

  Her eyes went wide.

  “The spices you added, they weren’t from over by the stove, were they?” she asked nervously.

  His eyes went straight to the rack.

  What could be in them? It must be some magical ingredients. He’d been licking the batter off his fingers. Oh god.

  “Um, yes they were, why?” he asked, trying not to panic.

  She looked at him in surprise, and then began to laugh.

  “It’s just that they’re sort of old, I have fresher spices in the cupboard,” she explained.

  He laughed too, and suddenly he felt at home. Really at home, as if he had been born in this weird little cottage, flipping pancakes with this woman at his side.

  She was smiling up at him
, her cheeks pink, those unusual lavender eyes luminous. Her still damp hair gleamed.

  “What?” she asked.

  You make me happy. You like me for me, not for the money you don’t know I have.

  “I was just noticing, how fast you bounced back. You sure you’re not a shifter?” he teased, trying to get out of his own head.

  “I spend a lot of time outside, so I’m used to the hiking. My magic doesn’t bounce back that fast though,” she replied.

  He couldn’t help but notice the wind was out of her sails again. Damn. It would be nice if he knew enough about her to stop setting her off. They’d battled evil together and he didn’t even know what kind of music she liked.

  He plated the pancakes and set them on the wooden table while she poured out two glasses of tea from a large jar.

  At last they sat, fragrant steam rising from two formidable stacks of pancakes.

  Hedda leaned forward to inhale the heat. The bear liked the expression on her face, but not the way she was still lightly trembling with cold.

  Five minutes later, they were still sitting at the table, but with two very empty plates.

  “Better?” he asked her.

  “Yes,” she purred.

  He grinned at the satisfied expression on her face.

  Let’s put a look like that one on her face for another reason, the bear suggested.

  “So what now? Do you have a phone?” he asked hopefully.

  She shook her head.

  “I could call to my sisters using magic, but I don’t have enough. Besides, what I do have I need to save for the demon.”

  “Why didn’t it follow us?” he asked.

  “I have no idea,” she admitted. “But I tend to doubt that it’s given up. It probably went looking for a better body to use to attack with. It must know that this cottage is protected with magic.”

  “So what do we do next?” he asked.

  “I rest,” she said simply, wrapping the blanket more tightly around herself. “And you leave, run while you still can.”

  What?

  “What?” he asked.

  “Derek, this thing is not your problem. And the demon is very dangerous. The protections on this cottage are only good as long as the walls are intact. If it jumps into another large animal, it can eventually…” she trailed off.

  “Yeah, and for that reason I’m not leaving you here by yourself,” he said.

  “Listen, I know all this is new to you, but it’s not like you can spray it with some mace and go about your business. This is a demon, Derek, like the stuff you read about in legends.”

  “I don’t care what it is,” he told her. “You saved my life, I’m staying.”

  “Listen, I have almost no magic left. I have one chance, maybe. And if he chooses to come back here without a physical form, it will be like last time and I won’t be able to strike him,” she explained.

  “So what do we do?” he repeated.

  “I need to rest. You need to go,” she said.

  “Yeah, I know you’re tired. I’ll stay awake in case anything happens,” he told her.

  “No, it’s not because I’m tired. It’s the magic in me. It needs time to replenish itself. I need to rest and warm up so it can come back to me.”

  He realized that she was still trembling. The blanket wrapped around her so tightly he could see her curves.

  “Are you still cold because of the magic,” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Okay, I’ll tell you what, why don’t you get the fire started and I’ll grab some more blankets to bundle you up?” he offered.

  “And then you’ll go?” she asked.

  He couldn’t say yes to that.

  “And then we’ll talk about it,” he offered.

  He could see the indecision on her face battling with the need for warmth.

  “Okay, except how about you start the fire,” she agreed.

  “I thought you were a pro—wait a minute! Did you use magic to start that fire back at the shelter?”

  She dimpled and nodded.

  He feigned disappointment and shook his head.

  Hedda laughed and ran to her room again.

  When she returned he had the fire started and had laid out couch cushions on the floor at the hearth.

  Her hands trembled as she spread out a blanket on top.

  “Look, Hedda, I know you’re cold. I’m going to hold you until you’re warm again. I promise I won’t try to start anything.”

  Without waiting for her to answer, he sat on the make-shift bed and opened his arms to her.

  She hesitated a moment, her dark hair gleaming in the firelight. Then she sank onto his lap.

  Dear god, she felt so good.

  He wrapped his arms around her possessively.

  She relaxed into him, letting her head loll back against his shoulder.

  He came as close to nuzzling her neck as he dared and exhaled warm breath against her neck.

  She shivered with pleasure and curled herself closer.

  “Is that better, baby?” he asked, unaware of the endearment until it was already out of his mouth.

  “Mmm,” she replied.

  Shit. He was hard as a rock, couldn’t stop himself from wanting to bury his nose in her fragrant neck and slide his hands onto her breasts.

  He had to distract himself.

  “So we warm you up and then what’s next?” he asked.

  “If we have a lot of time, enough for me to regain my magic one hundred percent, then I can call to my sisters,” she told him.

  “And if we don’t?” he asked.

  She was silent for a moment and he had time to listen to her heartbeat. She was deciding if he could stay.

  “Then you get ready to shift, and we hope it didn’t find anything bigger than you to possess,” she answered at length.

  28

  Hedda luxuriated in Derek’s warm arms.

  She’d held a baby snake once, a creature Elise had found on a hike. It had looked like it would be warm to the touch. Instead, it had efficiently sucked every hint of warmth out of Hedda’s hands until she was left feeling like an icicle on a warm spring day.

  Derek must be feeling that way now.

  Hedda could feel her body sucking out waves of heat from his.

  Unbelievably though, he was still radiating warmth. Was that part of being a shifter?

  He smelled so good, dark and masculine, with hints of the forest.

  “No, I can’t do that,” he said softly, breaking her reverie.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, she had been so lost in her own head that she had forgotten what they were talking about.

  “I won’t shift again,” he answered. “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” she asked.

  “I’m not in control of it.” His voice was tight.

  She turned in his arms to study his face, so close to hers. His blue eyes blazed with a fierce light.

  “You mean you’re not in control of your bear?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said simply.

  “How long has that been happening?” she asked.

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he winced.

  “Well, it won’t matter if you’re in control or not,” she told him firmly, turning to study the fire again and hoping he didn’t see the fear in her eyes. “We’re going to need him.”

  If he wasn’t willing to leave and he wasn’t willing to shift, they were both going to be victims if the thing could find a way past the protections on the house.

  She would simply have to convince him.

  Her power.

  Just thinking of it made her scalp tingle. She clamped down on it, she had no magic to spare.

  Hopefully, enough was clinging to her that she wouldn’t have to pull on it.

  She turned in his arms again.

  “Derek, please, I… I need your help,” she blinked up at him with her best approximation of a helpless expression, feeling the tingle again
in spite of herself. She felt guilty for using magic to trick him like this, but it was for his own safety.

  “Why are you talking like that?” he asked.

  No man alive could resist her when she was trying. She must really be close to empty.

  And somehow, after everything else, the failure of her hated gift opened the floodgates and Hedda lost it.

  At first, she hoped she could stare stoically into the fire and let tears run down her face with quiet dignity, like a Lane woman.

  But, as it turned out, this was a sobbing breakdown, with crying that sounded like a spoiled child in a toy store and tears and snot flying out of her face in confetti-like proportions.

  Derek froze, then wrapped his arms around her more tightly.

  “Hedda, I’m sorry,” he said.

  She wanted to reassure him, but she was racked with sobs so hard it felt like she was being mixed in a commercial blender.

  To his credit, Derek didn’t try to make her stop. But he also didn’t run away. His long arms remained wrapped around her, and he began to rock her slightly.

  It was so comforting. He felt like a lover, like a husband. But he would be neither because in spite of her heart screaming to her otherwise, her mind knew that the only interest any man had ever had in her was because of the magic.

  She let herself cry it out. She cried for her mistakes, she cried for her sisters, who were as isolated by their gifts as she was by hers. She cried for the children who used to play on the mountain. She cried for herself, a woman of valor, brought to her knees by regret and fear and solitude and fierce longing for a man who was only here by accident and soon would be gone again.

  When her sobs subsided, one of the arms around her disappeared and returned with the box of tissues from the little table behind them.

  Grateful, Hedda cleaned herself up without turning to look at him.

  When she was finished, he still didn’t let go of her.

  She allowed her head to rest against his shoulder.

  “Thanks,” she said at last.

  “I’ve been there. Want to talk about it?”

  “No,” she replied, figuring he would try and get her to anyway. She’d have to make up a good lie.