Page 11 of Forsaken By Night

Wry amusement tipped up the corner of her mouth. “I know it doesn’t, because I’m here almost every day.”

He propped himself up on one elbow and searched her face. For what, he wasn’t sure, but he did know he wanted the truth, and he didn’t want to play games to get it. “You can see through Tehya’s eyes, can’t you? She’s your totem animal.” He paused, not wanting to ask the question that needed to be asked. Finally, his breath burning in his throat, he spit it out. “Does your being here mean she’s dead?”

Instead of answering, she shivered and gestured at his dresser. “Do you mind? You have a flannel shirt that’ll fit me. The green and black one you haven’t worn for a long time.”

“Sure,” he said numbly, his mind racing. How much had she seen through Tehya? His cheeks flamed hot as he thought about all the humiliating possibilities. “What else do you know about me?”

She climbed off the bed, giving him a mouthwatering view of her tight, round ass, full hips, and long, graceful thighs. She was perfectly fit, built like a runner with not an ounce of fat on her body. As she pulled the flannel shirt out of one of the drawers, she shot him a sly grin.

“I know everything.” The grin faded as she donned the shirt and worked the buttons. “You know everything about me too.”

“Look,” he said, reaching the limits of his patience, “this isn’t a joke. I know nothing about you. At all.”

She pointed to Tehya’s dishes in the corner. “You know I won’t eat anything out of my bowl unless it’s clean. You know I like it when you put ice cubes in my water in the summer.” She gestured to the fireplace. “You know I like it when you drag my bed in front of the fire in the winter. You know I love to run with you through the river basin because I’m more agile on rocks than you are when you’re in wolf form.” She met his gaze, and his mouth fell open. Her eyes, holy shit, her eyes. They were familiar... because they werewolfeyes. “And you know I like to sneak onto your bed and curl up next to you in the middle of the night.”

His breath cut out as he sat up straight and stared at her. “Tehya?” At her barely discernible nod, he exhaled on a long, slow curse. “I can’t... I can’t believe it.” He shook his head, unable to process this. “I have so many questions, and I don’t even know where to start.”

For years he’d dreamed of this woman, and all the while she’d been real and right here under his feet. Literally. He’d tripped over her or stepped on her tail dozens of times.

“Start at the beginning, maybe?” she offered.

The beginning. What a novel idea. Maybe that was wheresheshould start. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth years ago instead of letting me believe you were a wolf?” And how had she maintained her wolf form for so long? As far as he knew, no one had ever held on to a morph for more than two days, and even then, according to the stories, the skinwalker who had made it the full two days had died a week later.

“I couldn’t tell you.” She lifted her silky mane of hair up out of the shirt and let it cascade over her shoulders. His fingers practically itched to touch it. “I was—” She broke off with a growl so wolflike that if he’d doubted her story before, he believed her now. Her head whipped toward the door. “There are people coming.”

That’s when he heard it: the alarm yip of a coyote. It was distant but clear, and it came from the south. MoonBound lay to the south.

Hunter was coming.

Damn it! He’d been so wrapped up in everything going on with Tehya that he’d forgotten how much danger he was in. He’d been willing to face the danger, but now that Tehya was safe, he wasn’t about to sit around and wait for Hunter’s judgment. They needed to get as far away from MoonBound as possible. And, hell, he’d always wanted to see Alaska.

“We gotta go,” he said as he leaped off the bed and snagged his loaded weapons belt off the wall.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

Oh, not much. He’d only broken into a secure compound, impersonated the clan chief, and kissed his mate. “I violated a few vampire laws when I took Tehya—er,youto MoonBound.” Still thinking it was crazy that he was having an actual conversation with Tehya, he buckled the belt around his hips and took his favorite hatchet from its hook near the door. “If we aren’t out of here in the next five minutes, I’m dead.”

And Tehya might be as well.

6

Tehya had never known fear like this. Not even the day she was attacked by a vampire could compare with the sheer terror of knowing that a clan of vampires hell-bent on revenge was only moments away from breaking down the door and possibly slaughtering them.

Lobo shoved his hatchet into a loop on his belt, and the hackles on the back of her neck rose. He never left the cabin without being armed with a few blades, but he didn’t take his favorite hatchet unless he was going to practice with it... or kill with it. The muscles in his arms and back rippled as he tore weapons from the walls and from the wooden chest near the fireplace. Every movement was brisk and economical, and within moments she swore every inch of his incredible body was armed.

She watched him, fascinated despite the danger they were facing. As a wolf, she’d loved him, but she’d never felt any kind of sexual feelings toward him. Which was a good thing, she supposed. But now... now she was a woman again, a female vampire with his blood coursing through her veins and a body that was still liquid from the climax she’d had with him.

She should probably be embarrassed by that, but she’d never been very self-conscious—and he’d seen her using the forest like a big litter box, so she was pretty much over being sensitive about bodily functions.

He swung around to her, his luxurious midnight hair fanning across broad shoulders that blocked the single stream of light coming through a crack in the drawn curtains. His dark gaze raked her from head to toe, and she sucked in an appreciative breath. She’d seen him in warrior mode before, but this was hard-core. He was cool. Detached. And why wouldn’t he be? She was a stranger to him.

“You need pants,” Lobo said gruffly, turning away to peek through the window.

She looked down at herself. The flannel shirt hung to mid-thigh, but her lower legs, already cut up from the run through the forest earlier, had no protection. Unfortunately, they’d have to stay that way.

“You don’t have anything that’ll fit me.”

“I have a pair of sweatpants—”

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