Лорел Гамильтон - Blue Moon

"If he'd found, say, emeralds on land that bordered the national park, then he'd have to file the claim and try to get permission to place a mine next to the park. If he'd found something that needed blasting and hard mining like maybe lead or something, then he might need partners to help him finance it. Then he'd need to file a claim to show the prospective partners."

"When did you start studying geology?" I asked.

He smiled. "We've been trying to figure out what is on the land that is worth this much trouble. Minerals seemed the logical choice."

I nodded. "Agreed, but either it's not minerals or it's something private, and he doesn't have to share that info, right?"

"Exactly."

"I need to speak with Carrie and the other biologists," I said.

"Tomorrow," he said.

"Why not tonight?"

"You said it outside: arcane werewolf shit."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I asked.

"It means that we're four nights from the full moon, and you're my lupa."

"I heard you've been taking applicants for the job," I said.

He smiled, and it wasn't nearly embarrassed enough. "You may find it strange, but a lot of women find me attractive."

"You know I don't find that strange," I said.

"But you're still with Jean-Claude," he said.

I shook my head. "I'm out of here, Richard. I'll stay around and try to keep you from being killed or getting any of our pack killed, but let's drop the personal stuff."

He closed the distance between us, and I put my hands up to keep him from touching me. My hands ended up pressed to his bare chest. His heart thudded against my hands like a trapped animal.

"Don't do this, Richard."

"I tried hating you, and I can't." He put his hands over mine, holding them against the hard smoothness of his chest.

"Try harder." But it was a whisper.

He leaned over me, and I drew back. "If you don't dry your hair, you're going to have to wet it down again."

"I'll risk it." He kept moving towards me, lips half parted.

I stepped back, pulling my hands out of his, and he let me. He was strong enough that he didn't have to let me, and that still bothered me.

I backed towards the door. "Stop trying to love me, Richard."

"I have tried."

"Then stop trying and just do it." The door was pressed against my back. I grabbed the doorknob without turning around.

"You ran from me that night. You ran from me to Jean-Claude. You pulled his body around you like a shield to keep me away."

I opened the door, but he was just suddenly there, holding it half-closed. I started tugging on the door, and it was like pulling against a wall, immobile. His one hand pressed flat on the door, against the pull of my entire body, and I couldn't budge him. I hated that a lot.

"Damn it, Richard, let me go."

"I think you're more afraid of how much you love me than you are of Jean-Claude. At least with him you know you're not in love."

That was it. I wedged my body in the door enough so he couldn't close it on me, but I stopped tugging on it. I looked up at him, at every gorgeous inch of him. "I may not love Jean-Claude in the same way I love you."

He smiled.

"Don't get cocky," I said. "I do love Jean-Claude. But love isn't enough, Richard. If love were enough, I wouldn't be with Jean-Claude now. I'd be with you." I looked into his big, brown eyes and said, "But I'm not with you, and love isn't enough. Now, get away from this damned door."

He stepped back, hands at his side. "Love can be enough, Anita."

I shook my head and stepped out on the steps. The darkness was thick and touchable but not yet solid. "The last time you listened to me, you killed for the first time, and you haven't recovered from it. I should have just shot Marcus for you."

"I'd have never forgiven you for that," he said.

I gave a harsh sound that was almost a laugh. "But at least you wouldn't be hating yourself. I'd be the monster, not you."

His handsome face was suddenly very solemn; all the light fled from it. "Whatever I do, wherever I go, Anita, I am the monster. You left me because of what I am."

I stepped down onto the ground, staring up at him. There was no light inside the cabin, and Richard stood in a darker shadow than the coming night. "I thought you said I left you because I was afraid of how much I loved you."

He looked confused for a second, not knowing how to deal with his own logic thrown back into his face. He finally looked at me. "Do you know why you left me?"

I wanted to say, "Because you ate Marcus," but I didn't. I couldn't say it staring into his face, so ready to believe the worst of himself. He wasn't my problem anymore, so why did I care how hurt his ego was? Good question. I was out of good answers. Besides, maybe there was some truth to what Richard was saying. I didn't know anymore.

"I'm going to go to my cabin, now, Richard. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Afraid?" he asked.

I shook my head and answered without turning around. "Tired." I kept walking, knowing he was watching me. The parking area was empty. I didn't know where Jamil and the others had gone, and I didn't care. I needed some alone time.

I walked through the soft, summer darkness. There was a spill of stars overhead, glittering and edged by the dark shapes of leaves. It was going to be a beautiful evening. Somewhere off in the distance, a high, clear howl rode the coming dark. Richard had said something about arcane werewolf shit. We were going to have a moonlight jamboree. God, I hated parties.

I leaned against the door of my cabin, eyes closed, breathing in the cool air. I'd turned the air-conditioning on for my two guests. The coffins sat in the middle of the floor between the desk and the bed. Under the Circus of the Damned, deep underground, neither Damian nor Asher slept until full dark. I hadn't been sure if they would aboveground or not. So the air. Though, actually, it had been partly selfish. Vampires in a closed, hot space tended to smell, well, like vampires. They didn't smell like dead bodies. It was like the smell of snakes, and yet that wasn't it, either. It was a neck-ruffling smell. Thick, musky, more reptile than mammal. The smell of vampires.

How could I be sleeping with one of them? I opened my eyes. It was dark in the cabin, but there was still a faint push of illumination through the two windows. A faint touch of light against the gleaming feet of the coffins. Had that small touch of natural light been enough to keep both vampires comatose, dead in their coffins, waiting for true dark? Something had, because I knew that they were still and waiting inside the coffins. A small amount of concentration, and I knew they were still dead to the world.

I strode between the coffins into the bathroom, closed and locked the door. The darkness seemed too solid. I turned on the light. It was white and harsh after the darkness. I was left blinking in the brightness.

Getting a good look at myself in the mirror was almost startling. I hadn't really seen the bruises yet. The corner of my left eye was a wonderful shade of purple black, swollen, puffy. Seeing it made it hurt worse, like seeing blood from a cut that doesn't sting until you notice it.

My left cheek was a wonderful shade of greenish brown. It was that sickly green that usually takes days to accomplish. My lower lip was puffy. You could still see the edge of darkened skin where it had bled. I ran my tongue inside my mouth and could feel the ridge where my cheek had been forced against my teeth, but it was healed. I stared into the mirror and realized as sore and awful as it looked, it wasn't as bad as it should have been.

It took me a few moments of staring to figure it out. When I did finally realize what was happening, a rush of fear ran through my body from my toes to the top of my head. I felt almost faint.