Because I was pathetic and needy. I missed love. I needed sex.
Pathetic. See?
My cell phone rang - the sound shrill in the sudden silence. Both of us jumped. I got up to answer.
Damien was so close, I shoved him back as I went by, and he let me.
If he was a big, bad werewolf wouldn't he have killed me by now? Why wait? Avoid the rush.
I was grasping at straws and I knew it.
"Hello?"
"Liebchen."
I gripped the phone more tightly, calmed by Edward's voice. My eyes met Damien's and I hesitated. I knew what Edward would want me to do, and I couldn't. Not yet.
"I received your message," he continued. "Any more information for me?"
"Wasn't that enough?" I asked.
"I would say no. The native woman - "
Edward, ever politically incorrect - what can you expect from an eighty-year-old-and-then-some former spy?
"Her information was interesting, but we still do not know what the power eater plans for the night of the hunter's moon. You do not know where their lair is."
"Any clues on that?"
"Search for a gathering place. Isolated. Protected."
"Been there, done that. Found nothing."
"I cannot help you, Leigh. I am here; you are there. Do the job."
"Why don't you come and help me?" I blurted, then wished I hadn't.
Edward might look like anyone's great-granddad, but he wasn't. He'd blow Damien's brains out without a second thought. Step on the remains, grind them into dust, and never flinch. Once I'd been that way, too. Suddenly I wasn't, and it left me floundering and alone.
"I can't," he answered.
I frowned. Edward had been saying that since I'd gotten to Crow Valley. It wasn't like him to avoid the action. "Why?"
"You've been trained for this job. You do not need me."
His voice was clipped, angry. Something was going on, but I knew Edward well enough to know he wasn't going to tell me what it was.
"Have you done any further investigation of the odd dwelling with the human remains? I have never heard of anything like it."
Which couldn't be good.
"I haven't been back. What should I look for?"
"I have no idea."
This from the man who knew everything.
I continued to study Damien as I spoke to Edward. He leaned against the wall and stared right back. His odd, changeable, unblinking eyes should have made me leery. Instead they made me hot. I was crazier than even I thought I was.
Why hadn't I recognized Damien's eyes in those of the brown wolf? I'd taken one glance at Hector in wolf form and known him for what he was. Damien... not so much.
His eyes were strange - changing hue depending on the light and what he was wearing. Still, I should have known. Unless, maybe, I hadn't wanted to see.
Edward mumbled something on the other end of the line.
"What was that?"
"I have to go, Leigh."
And he did. Just like that.
"Now what?" Damien asked.
Exactly. Now what?
Was there a way to check his story? Maybe.
"Do you have a Social Security number?"
"I did." At my frown he continued, "I died in Germany, remember?"
"So you say."
Damn. How was I going to check out his story without tipping off every Jager-Sucher in the country that I was investigating someone who was already dead? I had no idea.
The question disturbed me so much, I let my guard drop. The next instant Damien stood right next to me.
I tried to bring up the rifle, but he snatched it away and tossed it on the bed.
The heel of my hand shot toward his nose. Old habits are hard to break.
He blocked the blow with a lightning-fast movement that nevertheless appeared lazy. How did they do that?
He yanked me against his body, and he wouldn't let me go. My heart thundered in my ears, warring with the harsh, panting sound that at first I thought was him but in-stead turned out to be me. I was panicked, frightened, and so turned on my skin seemed to be dancing around on top of my bones.
Was he going to kill me? Or worse?
I struggled, but that only seemed to excite him more. His erection pressed against my stomach, pulsing and shifting, as if it had a life of its own.
He pressed his face to my neck, inhaled as if memorizing my scent. Hell, maybe he was. My hands were trapped against my body; my feet dangled above the floor. I could do nothing to stop him, and in truth, I didn't want to.
His tongue blazed a hot, wet trail from my collarbone to my ear. His teeth grazed the throbbing vein at the curve. I shuddered as he nibbled and laved.
My hands were free. Instead of socking him in the eye, I pulled him closer, my fingers tangling in the dark, curling strands of his hair.
When had my legs wrapped around his waist? When had his palms cupped my ass?
He nuzzled the tops of my breasts. I yanked my shirt down and his mouth closed over a nipple, his tongue pressing me against the roof of his mouth, once, twice, again. I tightened my legs. I was going to come. He lifted his head and whispered, "I love you, Leigh."
My body went ice-cold. I didn't have to struggle; this time when I pulled away he let me go. My breasts were still exposed, wet from his mouth, aching with arousal and frustration. I covered myself and fought the urge to take a shower.
Hurt flickered in his eyes; his face hardened. "It's OK to have sex with you but not to love you?"
I lifted my chin. "That's right. I seem to recall a deal that involved taking what you could get."
"I've been taking most of my life. I've finally found someone I want to give something to."
"I'm not buying."
"I'm not selling. I'm giving. I love you."
"Stop saying that!" I shouted.
Jimmy had loved me. It had gotten him killed.
Damien could take care of himself, like Hector. Who had also loved me. Sick son of a bitch.