Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance) (2 page)

“And dude?”

“Yeah?” Damien asked briskly as his patience fled.

“Watch your back. Freak who gave me the message, well, let’s just say he’s off, mentally. You get me?”

“Oh I got ya kid, don’t worry about me.” Damien stiffened at the reminded threat and waited until the kid left his sight before packing some weapons to race to Grace.

• • •

Grace turned off the last light when the phone rang.

“What’d you forget?” From as far back as she remembered Beth always forgot something behind whenever she left.

“Ha, what makes you think I forgot anything?”

“Because you always do.”

“Well, no. At least not that I know of at the moment. Wanted to tell you Moss offered to head into the swamp tomorrow to check on Damien.”

“No. I thank you both for your concerns, but I truly think he just needs some time. Alone. Without harassment. Please.” Silence meant Beth was deciding whether to argue, and Grace prayed this one time her niece would listen and let the issue drop. At least for now.

“All right, if you think that’s best.” Beth sighed in the background as if she didn’t agree.

“I do. Men don’t like to be pushed. If and when he chooses to do that again, I want to know it was his decision and not from some false sense of obligation.”

“You might be right. He does seem rather bull-headed. Well, sweet dreams and I’ll call you in the morning. Oh, one more thing.”

“What’s that?”

“He didn’t by chance tell you what he was, did he?”

Grace laughed. She’d thought Beth knew, but apparently not.

“Well as he didn’t mention it was some kind of secret, yes. I know what animal he shares his spirit with.”

“Well for the love of God, would someone tell me please?”

“Curiosity … ” Beth cut off the rest of her sentence.

“Killed the cat. Yeah, yeah, I know. But Moss wouldn’t tell me. Told me it wasn’t his secret to tell and now I’m the only one who doesn’t know.”

“He’s an armadillo shifter.”

“He’s a what?”

“An armadillo shifter.”

“Oooh, that makes sense. I remember Moss saying armor up, back in the battle we had with Octavia at the cave.”

“Yes, he has control of the vessels in his body and can, at will, cause the capillaries to expand and harden his skin. Makes it almost armor-like and nearly impossible to penetrate.”

“That’s some pretty awesome shit. He doesn’t turn into a … ?”

Grace laughed before explaining. “No, just takes on the qualities of as I stated. He also has exceptional night vision and scent.”

“Alright. Curiosity settled now. Oh crap, gotta run.”

Grace heard the husky whisper in the background. Moss wanted her off the phone and like then. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She wished them all the happiness in the world. They deserved it.

The cabin was stuffy and a bit humid even in her sheer shift. Opening the windows, she took in the cool evening breeze. Perfect. Except for the eerie silence.

Too quiet.

Not a screech from the owls or chirps from crickets. She lived in a more secluded section of the swamp, but even out here, the occasional barking from dogs traveled her way. Grace grabbed the bat she kept by the bedside and crept towards the living room. She rarely locked her doors, but her instincts screamed something was off. She turned the flip-bolt to the lock on the front door and headed over to secure the back patio door.

The hairs rose on the back of her neck she couldn’t pinpoint the source. She scanned the dark of the cabin, any and every shadow, yet nothing was out of place.

Her imagination must be running amok.

Shaking her head, she headed for bed. Sleep. A good night’s sleep would chase away the funk she was in … hopefully. If nothing else maybe she’d dream of Damien and all the things she wanted to do with him.

“Hello, Grace.”

She screamed, dropping the bat.

Damien emerged from the swamp, soaked to the bone, but he warmed quickly as his thoughts turned to seeing Grace again. He wanted her safe and preferably naked and beneath him. He didn’t deserve someone like Grace, but she was lonely and if nothing else maybe they could offer each other some companionship. What was the new phrase he’d heard? Friends with benefits. Yeah, he’d love nothing more. She could use him all she needed until she found a more worthy mate from her side of the world.

Images of her lithe body wrapped around his drew a storm of emotions raging within. Those ripe breasts, taunt belly and hell yeah, lean legs perched on either side of his face. A feast for any man lucky enough to catch her attention.

Down, boy. We gotta get forgiveness for disappearing before we got a shot at easing anything going blue.

Damien hoped she didn’t slam the door in his face. Prayed she’d listen to his explanation. What the hell was he going to say anyway?
I pussed out and ran home.
Fuck. He’d had the entire trip
over to think of something, and what’d he do?
Think about fucking her.

He rapped on the glass patio door figuring she’d be pissed about the late hour. But after Trick’s warning, he wouldn’t chance leaving her alone for a minute longer than necessary. When she didn’t answer he cruised around front to check for her car.

Yup, her little blue Fiat sat out front.

He slid a palm over the hood and met with cool metal. She’d been home for awhile.

He took all three small steps up to the front door in one leap before knocking with a bit more bravado. No answer. Nothing. Damien raised his fist to pound until she answered. She could be pissed later after she proved all was well. He took a few deep breaths to try and find calm, when he sensed something wrong. Scented the air, picking up one vaguely familiar aroma and tried to place the odor.

Then it hit him: he’d smelled that unique scent once before. When battling Octavia.

Shit!

“Grace, if you’re in there, I’m kicking down the front door. Stay back.” His gut screamed she wasn’t but in case, he didn’t want to knock her out.

Wood splintered as the entrance crashed down.

It took only a second for his eyes to revert to his nocturnal vision and he noted nothing out of the ordinary. He’d only taken a few steps inside the doorway when he viewed a baseball bat laying ominously still in the hallway leading to her room.

“Grace?”

He silently made his way toward her bedroom, cautious as he pushed open the ajar door.

Grace lay sprawled across her bed, bathed in moonlight, her gown up around her breasts. Above her bed on the wall, the words
She’s mine
written in what appeared to be blood. Fear spiked so hard he swallowed bile.

He dove for the Grace, checked her pulse and found a strong, steady beat. Relieved, he continued scanning every inch of her for any wounds. Thankful when none turned up, he shook her gently yet couldn’t get a rise out of her. He caught sight of a balled up white rag on the floor. Leaning over he grabbed the wadded cloth and took a small whiff.

Chloroform.

That explained why he couldn’t wake her. Damn. Nothing made sense. Why hadn’t Demetrius taken her or even claimed her? He scented no mating. So why the illusion of such? Why the warning?

She stirred, moaning slightly, and rolled until her head lay his lap. His crotch grew unbearably tight, but concern overrode everything else. He’d never been knocked out with the stuff, but had read that coming out from its effects was painful to say the least.

Her phone rang, and he saw the little silver cell vibrating along her nightstand.

Beth’s name scrolled across the front of the screen and he answered.

“Beth, Demetrius was here.”

“Oh my God is she alright?” Beth asked, apparently recognizing his voice.

“She appears to be unharmed, but she’s been rendered unconscious.”

“Unconscious? Damn you, Damien, define rendered,” Beth demanded with the sounds of jangling keys in the background. He suspected she was waking Moss and grabbing her keys even as they spoke.

“Chloroform.”

“He didn’t … um, you don’t think … ?”

He sensed what she was scared to ask. “No. He didn’t molest her in any way, and yes I would be able to tell.”

“Are you going to stay?” She paused and he heard her take a deep breath. “At least until we arrive?”

He sensed the anger behind her words and didn’t blame Beth. His lack of care or concern for Grace had placed her in danger.

“Yes. I’ll be here.”

Grace stirred and moaned in obvious discomfort. He tried to soothe her by whispering reassurances she wasn’t alone in her ear. Beth and Moss were at least thirty minutes away and he didn’t know if waking in his arms would be a good thing or bad thing. He didn’t want her anymore upset than she already had been.

He needed to board up her door, but didn’t want to move her. She seemed content at the moment by the way she suddenly snuggled into him and went quiet. The moaning ceasing.

Gently he moved her head from his lap and went to move a large piece of furniture up to block the doorway. The chifferobe she used as a coat closet nearly covered the entire opening. There’d be no stopping bugs or critters from getting in, but a person would make some warning noise doing so. Once Moss arrived, he would seek a hammer and some nails and get the door back up or as close as possible.

He returned and found she hadn’t stirred in his short absence. He crawled back onto the soft down comforter and pulled Grace back into his arms. This time however, when he glanced down he found blue eyes peeping curiously up at him.

“What hit me?”

“Afraid it’s more of
who
hit you.”

He watched as she struggled to try and remember the events, but no doubt the drug caused her to be more than a little foggy. Hell, she may not remember at all.

“What do you remember?”

“Not much, but I can tell you this: my head is throbbing.”

Her head wasn’t the only thing throbbing. He’d noticed how damn sheer her gown was. How those pearly buds of hers poked through screaming for attention. Attention he would love nothing more than to give, if the situation weren’t so critical. If she hadn’t been attacked.

“Do you have anything here for pain I can get for you?”

“No, I’m clear out. Add that to my shopping list,” she quipped.

“Oh shit, I do remember something. Demetrius was here, wasn’t he?” She bolted up and saw the message on her wall. “Son of a bitch and I mean that literally!” Grabbing her head she thumbed her temples as if in pain.

“He didn’t … well, assault you in any inappropriate ways.”

“Hell, no, I can tell that. But the ass painted all over my wall.” She squinted and winced, taking in the sight of the threat still dripping down her wall.

He decided against informing her that was definitely blood, not paint. The metallic coppery odor tickled his nostrils and not in a good way. When Moss and Beth arrived, he’d clean the wall before Grace had a chance to figure out the nature of the red origin.

But just his luck, before he managed to maneuver her away from discovering his erection, her hand slid from his thigh, landing slap on the painfully hard organ. Her face turned a beautiful shade of red. Oddly, she didn’t move away. Instead, she turned to him with a needy look on her face. Her tongue darted out to swipe her lips and damned if that simple move didn’t call to him on a whole sexual level he’d never thought about.

“Damien, I know that … ”

“Grace, we’re here.” The frantic announcement froze them both as a slew of curses broke loose. He caught Grace’s niece Beth begging Moss to hurry and please move the furniture blocking the entrance out of her way.

Their alone time was about to end and disappointment didn’t cover what he felt. Neither would it cover his hard-on as he shifted uncomfortably and snatched a throw pillow to place over his crotch.

Grace shot him a questioning look.

“Beth called right as I found you. I hadn’t wanted to alarm her, but she needed to be aware of the attack,” he explained.

It was going to be a long night and he figured he’d best start it with a cold shower.

• • •

Grace threw her arms over her chest as both Beth and Moss raced in. She’d been aware of Damien’s gaze and how little her gown covered. She’d actually thought maybe they’d have their chance. Yeah the timing sucked, but damn, the last time she’d waited for an appropriate time the hardheaded and infernal man up and disappeared.

“Oh my God, are you okay? What happened, what did the asshat do, was he alone, how did you get away … ”

“Whoa, hold on. One question at a time. Yes. I don’t remember. I don’t know and maybe because he sensed Damien coming. There, I think I answered everything.”

“She doesn’t remember much, most likely due to the chloroform,” Damien offered before excusing himself to the guest room. Remembering the wood she felt earlier, she could only assume for a shower.

“Nothing?” Beth shook her head in apparent disbelief. “Damn, so much for getting a jive on what Demetrius’s sorry ass was up to.”

“He’s as evil as his mother.” Moss was a man of few words, but Grace knew his words rang true.

“You got that right,” Grace agreed. “Now, though it feels like I’ve been hit over the head with a rolling pin, there’s no way in hell I can possibly sleep right now. If you two could excuse me, I’ll change and come join you all for a bit.”

“I’ll start repairing the door.”

“Door?” She caught Beth’s nod at Moss before the big guy ambled out of the room.

“Get dressed and I’ll go put on some tea.” Beth dashed into the next room before she could ask her what they meant.
What was wrong with her door?

She tossed on a pair of gray sweats paired with a heavy black t-shirt and headed out to investigate these mysterious repairs. Passing the gaping opening where her door once stood she found no need to ask. Moss sprang up with sheets of plywood he’d gathered from her shed, leftovers from a previous hurricane threat, and went to nailing up the damaged entrance.

“No, wasn’t Demetrius. Damien kicked it in when he got here and sensed his presence.” Beth handed her a steaming cup of chamomile tea. Grace blew over its steaming edge before taking a sip of the calming heat.