Make Me Howl (37 page)
Thank goodness for the unseasonably warm weather. For what he had in mind, it would make everything more comfortable.
She leaned against the door and gave him her full scrutiny. “We’re here. Me in my gown and you in your tux. Nothing to change into. Now what?”
This had to work. He’d never survive the next sixty or eighty years without her by his side, loving him. He didn’t answer. Just went to the back of the Humvee, retrieved the blankets his family kept in every vehicle in case of emergency then helped her out. When she started toward the house, he gently tugged her in the other direction.
With a shrug, she went along. The going was slow because she wore a pair of ridiculous shoes with spiky heels that added about nine inches to her height, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except making this work.
Finally they reached the pond. He took her to the far side. Young growth next to the water gave them the illusion of privacy where he spread the blankets.
When their “nest” was made, he pulled her to him. “I can’t live without you, Jazzy Cannis. I won’t. Together, I think we’re stronger than any spell you can perform with fire and herbs.”
Doubt puckered her brow just above her cold eyes, but he couldn’t quit. He had to make this work.
“Will you let me—us—try to undo what you’ve done?”
After a long moment, she shrugged, then, finally, nodded.
He stepped close enough to feel her body warmth then slid his fingers in her hair. With his palms skimming lightly, he eased his hands to her face, wanting to touch every pore, every particle of her. Like a blind man, he used his fingers to memorize the shape of her nose, her brows, her chin.
His heart thudded hard as he glided his fingers from her jaw to the length of her neck. With each beat,
I love you, Jazzy Cannis. I love you
drummed in his mind.
He removed her belt and slid his hand to her back to slowly unzip her blouse. When the zipper reached the bottom of its run, he eased it from her shoulders and let the top slide to the ground, then took off her skirt, leaving her with nothing on but a scrap of a panty, practically not there.
She kicked the skirt out of the away as her nipples puckered. At her slight shiver, he took off his jacket, put it over her shoulders but didn’t close it, unable to hide her beauty.
He skimmed his hands to her breasts, and as he ran his thumbs over them, savoring the texture, she closed her eyes, her head tipping back. She gasped for breath.
Inching his palms down her sides, he caught her scrap of panty and shoved it down, past her knees. Kneeling, he ran his hand over first one calf and then the other as he took it off.
Unable to stand it another minute, he stood and yanked open his shirt so he could feel her, chest to breast. Belly to belly. Mouth to mouth. Heart to heart.
After way too long, he kissed her. Fitting his leg between hers, he stepped nearer and the kiss morphed into a firestorm. His mind all but blanked out as he held her.
Her hands worked at his trousers, loosening them. He didn’t waste any time. He kicked off his shoes, everything else he had on and dragged her to the blankets with him.
Slow down, slow down,
his brain pounded.
This could be the last time. The only time. Savor it.
He tried to draw a breath, but the air was filled with the wild scent that belonged to her accented by the moisture coming from the pond. His heartbeat kicked higher, his emotions denser.
Loving her as he did, he couldn’t hold back, but he must. The lesson ingrained since childhood had been
control
.
But how could control rule him when all he wanted, all he’d ever want, was within his grasp?
He raised his head, hoping to find a breath to steady himself, but she followed. Lifting her arms to encircle his neck, she bit him hard on the shoulder, and lapped the pain into extreme pleasure.
She slipped from under him, straddled his waist and eased herself over him. Closing his eyes, he suffered the torturous delight she inflicted. Bristles stung as they tried to charge through, his bones fought to change, but gritting his teeth, he held himself firm.
She gasped as, with a quick movement, he switched places with her. Now he was in charge—but he couldn’t dominate her. She moved wildly beneath him, her breaths coming in gasps and snarls.
This woman who lived all out, holding back nothing, made him wish he hadn’t learned his family’s lessons so well. She’d put herself in danger for those around her. She didn’t care who knew what she was, didn’t bother holding back if she deemed the reason worthwhile.
In fact, she was proud of being a werewolf. Ready to tell the world.
She was all he ever wanted—and all he could ever want.
He couldn’t hold back. With a burning breath, he pressed his arms into the blankets and pushing high, he tipped back his head high.
He howled.
And with that howl, he released himself to the passion. The stimulation of morphing as he made love was more than he could have imagined. In those moments, his senses heightened to a level beyond imagination.
His heart detonated, the bristles charged and he let them erupt. His elongating jaw changed his kiss, but he barely noticed as her scent became part of the world around them, visible yet transparent. The sparkle, which he could now see gave her the glow that made her so beautiful, was like mini electrical jolts under his fingers, which quickly transformed into paws.
The feel of her beneath him drove him beyond understanding as she, in perfect sync, began changing.
He was lost.
Chapter Seventeen
I dropped on the blanket, exhaustion nearly killing me when I’d changed back to human form. I hadn’t known it could be like that. I’d imagined, but I hadn’t actually known.
With a sigh of happiness, I looked into his eyes.
And in that instant with my heart thudding and his nearness sending a warm buzz throughout my body, I realized I loved him.
The Tumuld Argamelino—the exact spell Granny used to kill her heart—had been beaten. Overcome.
I struggled to take a breath, and found it rife with his scent. With all my heart I wished I could capture and bottle it, because I didn’t know if he could love me forever, knowing what I was willing to do to stop my love for him.
Tears burned the back of my eyes as I envisioned the rest of my life, loving him but being unloved. Never experiencing again what we’d just had.
Unsure I’d be able to survive, I wondered if nuns accepted werewolf applicants.
“I-I have to tell you something.” I shuddered at the sound of my voice. It was just like a whipped puppy, all teary and high. That whiny-baby stuff made me want to scream.
If I had the strength, I’d morph again. I’d stand with my legs braced, my toes splayed, every muscle tensed and the hair on my nape rising.
I’d snarl the words and let the body parts land where they may.
But wolf mouths aren’t made to pronounce words and my mind, when I’d gone animal, didn’t pick up the normal thoughts and subtleties. I might be able to get a few basic words or thoughts, but I wouldn’t be able to make him understand.
“Let me tell you first.” We sat with me settled in the space between his legs so I could look into his face. “I love you, Jazzy Cannis. I want to marry you.”
Marry me? This man who wanted to wipe out the very gene that had made my life—and his—so wondrous wanted to be married to me?
Tears flooded, turning the world into a blurry place. “What about your Syzygia research?”
He lifted his brows in alarm. “No. When I truly thought about it, I knew I couldn’t do that—not to
our
children. I wanted them to experience the wonder, the joy of life that you have. Then I questioned if anyone would truly want to wipe out generations of inherited knowledge by getting rid of that gene, so I’ve given up my quest to wipe it out.”
I bit the inside of my lip hard to keep from sobbing out loud. Finally, he understood what I’d been trying to tell him.
“Now I want to find a way to wipe out the virus that creates neophytes, and to stabilize a serum for the infection until I do.” He caught my tears with the pads of his thumbs. “And that dream can only come true if you’re there by my side, helping me.”
“Even after what I’ve done?”
His frown made my belly tense, but we had to get it out. Now. “I did the Tumuld Argamelino to kill my love for you. I burned something you’d given me that you truly cared about.”
He waited, watching me, his eyes dark. I couldn’t tell if he knew what I was going to say or not. I blew out a breath and sucked in a quick one, but could barely manage a whisper. “I burned your granddad’s poster.”
He stared at me for a very long moment then nodded. Getting up, he retrieved my clothes and handed them to me.
That was it. My answer. He no longer wanted to be with me. His grandfather’s poster meant more to him than I did. Blinded by tears, I struggled to get dressed and gathered up the blankets.
He picked up my shoes and held them out to me, but I shook my head. I wanted to walk with the dirt and dried grass of the field beneath my feet. I wanted something beneath me that I knew wouldn’t change, no matter what stupid thing I’d done.
As we walked back to the house, I tried to swallow so I could find my voice, apologize to him before we parted, but I couldn’t.
Then a miracle happened. He slid his arm around my waist and pulled me against his side. We walked together as one person.
I swallowed. Twice. “You don’t hate me?”
His smile was soft, his gaze sparkling. “Never.”
We walked on until we came to the house. Going inside, we went to the living room, dropped the blankets in a heap and snuggled into them.
“How were we able to break that spell? I performed it exactly as Granny described in her diary, and she said it was permanent. Could never be undone.”
Doc drew me to him. My head went naturally to the hollow in his shoulder as I relaxed against him. “I think no matter how viable the spell or how fervent the wish, we’ve proven there’s nothing in this world stronger than a pair of werewolves in love.”
Wanting to tease him just a little, I straightened and met his gaze. “All right, Mr. Scientist. How did we prove that theory?”
The twinkle in his eyes as his lips quirked into a delicious grin sent a thrill through me. “You did, darlin’. You made me howl.”
A word from the author...
Unbridled imagination—gift or curse? For me, it’s been a little of both. Curse, when the ‘nation took over and I lost what the teacher was saying. Gift when nothing interesting is happening, which could be why I lost track of the teacher’s words.
Luckily several years ago, I harnessed my imagination and started writing.
When I’m not writing, I’m spending time with my family (both at work and at home), gardening, knitting, or reading.
When I am writing, I’m often on my blog, where I talk about my Small Town World.
http://susanshay.net
I like to hang out at Twitter
@shaywriter
and Facebook, too.
susanspessshay
I hope you’ll drop by and say hi!
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