Marked by Moonlight (29 page)

“What about him?” Cooper's voice broke in, ringing like a drill sergeant.

Gideon looked over his shoulder. Cooper pointed at Darius. Irritated, he started to ask what he meant, then stopped, realizing that Darius hadn't shifted back to his human form yet.

Curious, he left Claire's side and stepped nearer. A thick pelt of black hair still covered Darius's body. Lycans always returned to their human form in death. Darius's chest rose and fell with deep, silent breaths. He wasn't dead. Gideon's bewildered gaze shot to Cooper.

A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. Turning the gun side to side, he said, “Don't know how strong these tranquilizers are. Gave him enough to put out an elephant. Still, you might want to get him wherever he's supposed to be.”

Claire demanded, “He's not dead?”

“No.” The way Cooper's mouth tightened, Gideon knew he didn't exactly understand why he hadn't killed Darius, but Gideon did. He'd done it for him. Trusted him enough to believe that Darius might be worth saving.

“Yeah, and if this ever gets out my career's over.”

“My lips are sealed.” Gideon pretended to zip his lips.

“Just get the hell out of here.” He nodded to Darius. “And take pretty boy with you.”

“What about Nina?” Claire asked, motioning to the unconscious girl.

“Oh yeah,” Gideon said, suddenly remembering. “And there are some kids upstairs in a pantry—”

Cooper waved a hand and sighed deeply. “I'll take care of the kids. Know just which cops to call.”

Gideon had a good idea, too.

Cooper shooed at them with his hands. “Leave it to me. You get out of here. I don't want to explain your presence.”

Gideon nodded, recalling the night of his own parents' death. He and Kit hadn't opened their mouths once. Cooper handled it all. Just as he would undoubtedly handle this. He was an expert at covering up the truth. Then and now. Gideon would probably read a story in the
Chronicle
tomorrow about a police raid on a cult in North Houston and the rescue of several abducted teenagers by law enforcement officers.

Conceal and cover up. Keep the knowledge of lycans hidden from the rest of the world. It's what Cooper did best.

Suddenly weary from it all, desiring a little peace and normalcy in his life, Gideon would gladly leave him to it.

Grabbing Claire's hand, his eyes met hers, startled by the pools of brown staring back at him. The knowledge that she was safe, free of the curse, hit him hard then.

It was too dark in the basement to study the exact color and nuance of those eyes. But he would. Later. A leisurely inspection. He had all the time in the world to study them. He had plenty of time to discover the real Claire Morgan, assuming she gave him the chance.

The cold, hard truth revealed itself in the unearthing of her wide brown eyes, and Gideon couldn't ignore it.

It was over. Claire no longer needed him. The question remaining was whether she wanted him.

The devotion between human and dog is often reciprocal; sometimes a dog is just as much master as pet.

—Man's Best Friend:
An Essential Guide to Dogs

A
fter depositing the still unconscious Darius to a much-relieved staff, they headed home. Or to Gideon's house, Claire silently amended. When had she started thinking of Gideon's house as home?

An uncomfortable silence filled the air during the drive. She twisted her fingers in her lap until they were white and bloodless. What now? What did one say when all reason for conversation vanished? When their whole purpose for meeting, for interacting, had ceased to be?

Claire knew one thing for certain. She wasn't sticking around to find out. She couldn't bear facing him the day he realized she wasn't who he thought, the day he discovered she wasn't the woman he had so brashly claimed to love in that basement. Not even close.

She entered the house ahead of him. Squaring her shoulders, she turned to face him. Best to end it now. She preferred that to witnessing his regret later when he realized she was just a woman. A plain, unexciting woman who didn't inspire feelings of love.

“I'll go upstairs and get my things. My parents must be really worried. They expected me to come back home after I got my things from school.” She tried to smile, but felt her lips wobble. “My mom's probably called missing persons—”

Frowning, he interrupted her. “Claire—”

She threw up a hand to silence him. “I really appreciate everything you've done for me. I'm lucky you found me and not some other agent.”

His eyes narrowed and he took a menacing step toward her. “Claire, don't even say—”

“I'd be dead if it weren't for you. I won't ever forget that.” She backed away, afraid of what he would say if she let him. “I hope NODEAL takes you back. I know how important—”

He grabbed her by both arms and wrenched her against him. The anger in his eyes stopped her speech cold. “I don't want your damned gratitude.”

Then he kissed her.

Claire stifled a moan of pleasure at the hard pressure of his lips on hers, forcing her lips to remain still and lifeless beneath his. His hands moved to her waist, slipping beneath her sundress to caress her back. The rough pads of his fingers feathered along her spine. Her skin broke out in goose bumps.

The blood pounded in her head, urging her to respond, but she couldn't give in. Not this time. She no longer had an excuse. There wasn't a beast within her anymore demanding she obey primitive sexual urges. It was time to think logically and behave rationally.

She shoved at his solid chest with the heels of her palms, arching her spine. His hands slid around to cup her breasts through the lacy cups of her bra, knocking her hands away. Her nipples hardened and puckered against his palms. His fingers dipped inside the lace, rolling over the tips until her breath quickened. She gripped the edge of the kitchen table behind her for support, gasping when he bent his head and lifted first one breast to his mouth, then the other, laving his velvet tongue over each rigid point before sucking them fully into the warmth of his mouth.

Nothing could come of this.

He didn't really want her.

Lifting his head, he kissed her again. She sealed her lips tightly against his. Her lips trembled from the effort. She had to stop—

“Damn it,” he rasped against her mouth, “kiss me.” His fingers tightened on her shoulders.
“Kiss me.”

That broken plea was her undoing. With a strangled cry, she surrendered, looping her arms around his neck and returning his kiss. Just one last time. As the real Claire. Not the lycan.

One more time, she vowed, and that would sustain her through the years ahead.

Lips meshing, tongues tangling, he wedged his hands between them. He slid her panties down until they dropped to her ankles. Freeing himself from his jeans, he grabbed her waist and effortlessly lifted her off the floor. With one arm around her waist, he dropped her on the kitchen table, impaling her with one slick thrust.

She gasped at his sudden fullness inside her, flattening her palms on the table and tilting her hips to meet his thrusts.

He panted, fingers digging into the soft flesh of her hips as he thrust into her again and again.

He dipped his head for another kiss, drinking long and deep from her mouth. Heat spiraled from within her, reaching every nerve ending in her body. They moved against each other wildly and her gasps grew louder, twisting into moans.

“Come,” he growled into her ear, biting the lobe with his teeth. She shivered. Reaching between their bodies, he found her clit and rubbed. She shrieked, bucking beneath him. His fingers persisted, worked the sensitive spot as he moved in and out.

The knot of tension within her burst. She collapsed back on the table in a shuddering heap, replete, sated, head spinning.

Gideon surged inside her one final time before his head dropped against her neck. Neither moved for several moments. Claire wasn't sure how long she stayed there, Gideon's moist breath against her throat, the warm, musky scent of him filling her nostrils,
him
filling her. Her fingers trailed through the silky soft hair that brushed his neck.

He pulled off the table, taking her with him, his voice a low rumble in her ears. “I know someplace more comfortable.”

Claire didn't object as he carried her upstairs. She studied the lines of his profile, the dark fringe of lashes, his square jaw, committing it all to memory. Pulling back the covers on his bed, he placed her in the middle and slid next to her, tucking her against his side.

For a long time no words passed between them. She smiled dreamily and traced circles on his hard belly, afraid to break the spell. Closing her eyes, she let herself pretend this was permanent, forever, that this was home.

Suddenly, he moved from her side to flip on the light. Then he was back, looming over her, staring at her so intently she felt her smile slip.

“What?” She fidgeted nervously, feeling exposed and vulnerable beneath the light.

“Your eyes.”

Frowning, she pulled the covers up to her neck. “I know. Boring brown.”

“No,” he said slowly, studying her eyes closely. “They have tiny flecks of gold around the center.” He pointed as if counting each tiny speck. “Amber,” he pronounced. “You have amber eyes.”

No one had called her eyes amber before. No one had ever even bothered to look. She felt herself smile. Grabbing his face in her hands, she kissed him soundly.

When she released him, he tugged her closer, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping inside her mouth as he shoved the covers aside. Cupping her bottom in both hands, he positioned himself between her thighs. She felt him hard and ready, nudging at her entrance.

“Gideon,” she gasped when he ground himself against her. “Again?”

Instead of answering, he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth. She arched, moaning as he tormented her with his tongue and teeth.

“Gideon,” she begged, grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

His hands slid along her thighs, guiding her legs around his waist, opening her wider. Slowly, he sank inside her. Her head flew off the bed with a gasp. He rested his forehead against hers, the searing intensity of his gaze penetrating her as thoroughly as his body did. Her heart swelled.

This would be enough. This memory, this time with him would be enough. It had to be.

She savored his body over hers, in hers, as he made love to her. Her hands and mouth caressed him, loving him, worshipping every line and hollow of him until they were both spent, exhausted. He flipped the light off before settling back into bed. Wrapping an arm around her waist, he spooned her.

Her eyes drifted shut and for several moments she allowed her breathing to match his, the fall and rise of her chest mimicking his. Never in her life had she felt this close, this intimate, with another soul.

“I love you, Claire.” The words were a whisper against her hair, barely audible, but she heard them, a painful echo of her heart's sentiments.

Only he didn't really love her. How could he when he didn't know her? He fell in love with the lycan. A wild creature of instinct. Not Claire.

She waited until his breathing grew even and slow, certain he slept. Cautiously, she crept from the bed, freezing when a spring squeaked. She glanced at his profile. God, he was beautiful.

When he didn't stir, she gathered her clothes and left, slipping silently from the house and vanishing into the moonlit night.

 

“Cooper,” Gideon greeted, halting his flight down the stairs as he spotted his friend kicked back in his recliner eating the last of his Pringles.

“You're out of Cheetos,” Cooper complained.

Gideon glared at him and forced himself to stroll into the living room like nothing was wrong. Like Claire hadn't crept off in the middle of the night. Like he hadn't woken up to a cold, empty bed. “I haven't been to the store lately.”

Cooper's gaze narrowed as he eyed Gideon. “You look like hell.”

Gideon snorted and plucked the can of Pringles from Cooper's hands. “It hasn't even been twenty-four hours yet. You could have waited a little longer before dropping by.”

Biting into a chip, Gideon dropped down on the couch and tried to pretend as if nothing was wrong, that he wasn't suffering, that Claire's leaving didn't hurt. That he wasn't dying inside.

“I suppose wiping out half a pack of lycans in a single evening might zap your strength.”

Gideon stuck another chip in his mouth, shrugging. “I had some help.”

“Yeah, your lycan buddies.”

“Claire's not a lycan.” Gideon was quick to interject.

“Yeah, not anymore.” Cooper glanced around the living room. “So, where is the woman of the hour?”

Again, Gideon shrugged, forcing his eyes to the television. He didn't want Cooper to glimpse any of the torment that simple question elicited.

“You don't know?” Cooper scratched his head. “After everything you did for her, I thought you two would be setting up house, picking out tea towels, china patterns. That's actually what brought me here.” Cooper leaned forward in his chair. “You know NODEAL doesn't allow married agents. No live-in girlfriends. Emotional entanglements can jeopardize security. So let's clear the air now.” Cooper paused, his look grave. “How serious are you about her?”

Gideon looked at Cooper blankly, wondering what he would think if he knew Claire had left him already. Instead of directly answering, he said, “I didn't really think
staying
an agent was an option. Didn't you fire me?”

Cooper shook his head as if it had all been a misunderstanding. “If you want back in just say the word.”

Gideon mulled over Cooper's words before saying, “No. I'm finished.”

Cooper leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Mind telling why?”

Gideon leaned back on the couch, his stomach churning at the thought of giving up all he had ever known. If not a lycan hunter, then what was he? Vengeance had been his companion for so long now. But a life of destroying lycans left him hollow inside. Helping Claire, falling in love with Claire, had filled him with a purpose. Shit. And now she didn't even want him.

“If I were to continue hunting, things would have to change. I couldn't do things NODEAL's way anymore. I wouldn't want to simply destroy. If the chance arose, I'd want to save the infected, too.”

Cooper leaned forward, punching a button on the remote control. The television snapped off. “What's really eating you? I'm not surprised about your wanting to quit NODEAL. You've broken every code, done everything possible to sabotage your job.” He looked around the room again, this time his tone insistent as he asked, “Where's Claire?”

Gideon stared at his bare feet propped on the coffee table, hating the vulnerability gnawing at him as he confessed, “I don't know. At her apartment, I guess. She left last night.”

“Uh-oh. What'd you do?”

Gideon blinked. “Me?” He pointed to his chest. “I didn't do anything.” At Cooper's skeptical look, Gideon added, “I told her I love her.”

“And she took off?”

“Yeah.”

Cooper grunted. Shaking his head, he stood up to leave. “You went through a lot of trouble to keep that woman alive.” He paused, his eyes drilling into Gideon relentlessly.

“Guess she doesn't want anything to do with me now that the curse is broken,” Gideon said, despising the anguish he heard in his voice.

Cooper shook his head. “Sure looked like she loved you from where I stood.”

“Yeah, well, you know about love as much as I do.”

Cooper approached him and squeezed his shoulder. “Stop being an ass. Love makes people do stupid things, even run from the person they want most. Now go get her.”

 

Claire stood in her apartment doorway and stared at the deliveryman in front of her, a heavyset, balding man with a thick Italian accent who pronounced her last name with a silent
g. Moron.
Sadly appropriate.