Under a Rogue Moon

Chapter 11

Chapter 11She told him about the police’s discoveries while they were eating their sandwiches in the kitchen. Jason didn’t seem bothered by the details until she said that he was considered a prime suspect. Then he visibly bristled.

“You know, doing good deeds isn’t supposed to come around and bite you in the ass afterward,” he complained, tossing his crust back to his plate in disgust. “I knew you should’ve made the phone call.”

“Because they wouldn’t recognize my voice at all,” Flanna said with more than a little sarcasm. “Relax. Nobody knows you’re in town, and once Mrs. Lange is strong enough to give them a better description, they’ll take you off the hook.”

“And put that demon on it?” Jason shook his head. “We both know that’s not going to happen. Damn it, I hate having to hide.”

“You’re not hiding. You’re…visiting. Undercover.” When his scowl didn’t go away, she added playfully, “Under my covers.”

His blue eyes regarded her for a long moment, and slowly, the tension began to unwind from his muscles. “Don’t forget the shower,” he teased, but when he reached for her hand across the table, Flanna skittered away.

“We still have to go get the rid of the demon’s body,” she said, tidying up the remains of their lunch. “You can’t expect me to be of any use to you with that if you keep demanding s****l favors.”

“I keep demanding?” He was behind her at the sink in a flash, his hips pushing hers into the edge of the counter. Leaning in, he buried his nose in the hair that still hung loose down her back, inhaling deeply. “You’re the minx who walked in on the middle of my shower,” Jason murmured. “How the hell do you expect any red-blooded male to resist that?”

“I was fully clothed at the time.”

“Like that makes any difference to how delicious you are.”

This was new to her, this light-hearted bantering, going back and forth knowing there would be no intentional malice from the other side. Thinking on it now, she realized it closely resembled Jason’s behavior since he’d first arrived, only she’d been too blind to see or appreciate it then. But she liked it. A lot. It was incredibly liberating.

His hands came around her waist, slipping beneath her shirt to glide across the taut skin of her stomach. Though she could feel his rising erection against her bottom, there was nothing s****l about the way his fingers stroked her quivering abdomen. It was simple appreciation, as if Jason couldn’t quite believe she was real. It was warm, and it was gentle, and it was everything Flanna could have asked for in that moment, without feeling like she was demanding too much. It made both of them sigh in contentment.

“You need a bigger bed,” Jason suddenly announced.

She glanced back at him, a curious frown wrinkling her brow. “Didn’t you sleep well in it?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Well enough. But it’s not the sleeping part it’s not big enough for.”

It was the twinkle in his eye and the wicked grin twisting his mouth that made her shove him back in protest, shaking her head as his laughter filled the kitchen. “Let’s go, Casanova,” Flanna said. “We have work to do.”

“Ooo,” Jason said. He made a grab for her as she walked past him to the back door, but was thwarted by her swatting at his hands. “Boss me around again.”

“Are you going to keep this up all afternoon?”

“Probably.”

She kept staring straight ahead, refusing to give him the satisfaction of bowing to his charms. She couldn’t help the smile that softened her features, though. “You’re incorrigible.”

His hand finally found her hip and tugged her against his side. “And don’t you love it,” Jason growled, nuzzling the side of her neck.

It was said in jest, but something about his choice of words resonated deeply in Flanna, stopping her from pushing him away. They weren’t true, she firmly told herself, but there was more than an ounce of potential in them, as if the feelings she did have could blossom into what he expressed. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, noting the utter relaxation in the set of his shoulders, the possessive bend of his head as he settled for nudging at her hair with his nose. He was the most affectionate man she had ever met, and that was definitely going to take some getting used to.

Would they even have the time to get used to it? she wondered. Would they have time for anything more than the stolen moments they had now?

She didn’t know. She honestly didn’t know.

* * * *

“It’s too bad we don’t know where Romm is right now,” Flanna said as she leaned onto her shovel. They’d managed to get the dead demon away from Mrs. Lange’s without detection, the police long gone from their investigation. Returning to her house, she and Jason found a spot at the edge of the property to dismember and then bury it. Now, she was sticky with sweat and her muscles ached from having to dig up the hard-packed earth. It was time to take another shower.

Taking her shovel, Jason fell into step beside her as she began her way back up to the house. “Other than the obvious,” he said, “why do you say that?”

“He’s American,” she explained. “We could let the authorities think he’s the one who attacked Mrs. Lange.”

He snorted. “Nice idea, but there’s no way in hell they’d ever confuse him with her description.”

She stopped in her tracks, staring at him with a frown. “You know what Dominic Romm looks like?” she asked.

Her question seemed to perplex him just as much, the lines slowly appearing in his brow as he stopped to stare at her. “You…don’t?”

“No. I never saw him. And Dad didn’t have any pictures that he could show me. I went by the information I had on the brothers mostly.”

Jason was still obviously confused by her response. “But then…” He stopped, his gaze sliding sideways as he seemed to be remembering something. A long moment passed, and then…“Oh.”

When he started walking again, she had to scurry to catch up. “What does that mean, ‘oh’?” she asked.

“Nothing. It’s just…nothing.”

“No, it sounded very much like something to me. What aren’t you telling me? Why did you think I knew what Romm looked like?”

“Because I can’t imagine chasing someone down without,” came the easy reply.

It made sense, but something tickled Flanna’s instincts to disbelieve him. “A werewolf’s a werewolf,” she said. “And I know what those look like.”

“Your father’s slacking on your education if you really think that.”

“Are you saying I don’t know what a werewolf looks like?”

He stopped at the back door, his features solemn. “No, I’m saying that all werewolves aren’t the same. Romm’s just one particular kind.”

He left her standing on the back step, her mind whirling from the questions his odd statements raised. When it came to werewolves, she’d always considered herself an expert. Colin taught her everything there was to know about them, so that when she went out on her monthly hunts, she’d know what was necessary to take them down. How could Jason be saying that education was now faulty?

“So, what kind is he?” Flanna asked, going into the house.

Jason was at the sink, filling the kettle with water. “The kind you kill.”

Water splashed over his hand when she marched up to his side and yanked at his arm to force him to face her. “Why are you holding back on me?” she demanded. “I thought we were partners on this.”

Carefully, he pulled away from Flanna, not saying a word while he put the kettle on its base and turned it on. “I’m sorry,” he said when he turned back to her. The apology was evident in his eyes and in the way he tried to reach for her. She, however, wasn’t ready for his kind of distraction and stepped beyond his range, making him lean heavily back against the counter.

“I guess I asked for that.” His smile was wry. “Romm just pushes all the wrong buttons in me. I…I don’t think too clearly, where he’s concerned.”

“What did you mean when you said there are different kinds of werewolves?” she prompted. Though his words showed her yet again that she didn’t know what his history was with Romm, Flanna figured that those answers would come out soon enough. She had to get him talking about other things before that would happen.

“Do you know how werewolves are made?” Jason asked.

“Of course. One wolf bites another. Like an infection that spreads.”

“That’s true for most of them. That’s the way Romm came about. You know about that?”

She did. Ten years earlier, Dominic Romm and his brothers had been on a hunting trip in northern Maine when they’d been attacked by what was reported to be a rabid wolf. The next full moon had been a bloodbath in their small hometown in Connecticut. They’d been on the rampage ever since.

“Some werewolves don’t get bitten,” Jason went on. “Some…get made. Well, cursed is a better word. There are some old magics that allow very powerful practitioners to curse people into werewolves.”

This, she didn’t know about. “Why wouldn’t my father have told me about this?”

“Probably because he thought it would confuse the issue for you. In the end, a werewolf is just a werewolf for a hunter, right?”

He seemed to be waiting for some kind of response, his head tilted as his bright eyes regarded her intently. Flanna didn’t know what to say to him. There was no doubt he was telling her the truth, but at the same time, she would feel much more comfortable getting it confirmed by her father when he got home from the shop.

“Are you ever going to tell me what Romm did to you?” she asked instead.

Some of the strength in his shoulders seemed to deflate, and Jason turned his back to her to tend to the whistling kettle behind him. “I went after the Romm pack on a whim.” His voice was low and too evenly modulated not to betray just how much he was holding himself in check. “I lost, and…people got killed.” There was silence as he busied his hands gathering the tea implements. “I don’t like losing.”

Or talking about it, she thought, but kept that particular sentiment to herself. She’d known there had to have been innocent victims involved; all he’d really done was confirm that. But the look on his face as he handed her a steaming cup of tea said that the issue was closed.

For now.

* * * *

Flanna was disappointed when Jason said he was going to take a nap, but seeing the exhaustion around the corners of his mouth kept her from arguing with him. He didn’t just walk away from her, though. While she made awkward noises about his skewed sleeping schedule, Jason stepped forward and took Flanna in his arms, cutting her off with a soft, gentle kiss. She relaxed almost instantly, molding to his lean form as her arms came up around his neck. When she tried to deepen the caress, however, he broke it off, pulling away to gaze at her with darkened eyes.

“Do you like me?” he asked out of the blue.

She stiffened with surprise. “Of course I do,” she replied. “Last night would never have happened if I didn’t.”

He was already shaking his head halfway through her affirmation. “No, I know you’re attracted to me,” Jason said. “What I’m asking is…do you like me? If we’d never had s*x…if it was just you and me working together platonically to catch Romm, would you still be happy about just being with me?”

The elaboration of his question made her uneasy, and she laughed nervously as she tried to cover up her growing fear. “This isn’t your version of the ‘let’s just be friends’ speech, is it?”

There was a split second where his features didn’t change. Then, alarm filled his widening blue eyes. “Oh, God no!” he rushed. “s**t! I didn’t think…no. Definitely not. That’s not what I meant.”

Her worry vanished in the face of his obvious fear that he’d said the wrong thing. “So…you just want to know if I like you…as a person? Forgetting the s*x for right now?”

“Yeah.”

She chose her words carefully. “If you’d asked me that a couple days ago, I would’ve told you no without hesitation,” Flanna said. “But a lot’s happened, and…and I’ve had the opportunity to get to know you better now. I still think you treat some things far too lightly, and I haven’t quite figured out why it is you seem to be able to wrap everyone around your little finger, but…yes. I do like you.” The corner of her mouth lifted. “You make me laugh, and you treat me with respect. Most of the time. You don’t play games…well, again, most of the time. I like that you’re not afraid to say what you think, but that could just be the American in you coming out. And you seem to genuinely enjoy my company, which, frankly, I don’t quite understand either.” She looked at him expectantly. “Does that answer your question?”

Something had softened inside him while she spoke, and relief now filled his gaze. “Yeah, it does.” He chuckled, a low sound that warmed her gut. “You don’t do anything by halves, do you?”

“Not really. I guess that’s something we have in common.”

After brushing another kiss across her lips, Jason stepped away, ineffectively stifling another yawn. “I am not used to this day shift,” he said.

Flanna gave him a gentle push toward the lounge. “Go sleep,” she ordered. “I’ll wake you up at teatime.”

The time flew by faster than she imagined. Taking another shower elicited heated memories that had her lingering too long beneath the spray, her hands straying to her hard n*****s while she recalled Jason’s hands doing the exact same thing, his c**k sliding in and out of her wet slit. For a second, her fingers strayed to her clit, flicking the sensitive tip once or twice while she debated the advantages to m**********g. It would take the edge of her desire off, but the thought of doing it alone wasn’t quite as appealing as the notion of doing it in front of Jason. As she finished rinsing her hair, she wondered if that was something he would like. She’d picked up a guy in Orlando once who’d only wanted to watch her play with herself. She’d thought it odd, but he’d ended up coming at the same time she did. Maybe Jason would be the same way.

Taking extra care not to wake Jason when she was done, Flanna retreated to the kitchen, cleaning up the mess from lunch and starting preparations for a rudimentary dinner. Lulled by distracting thoughts of how he looked sprawled in her bed, she barely heard the car pull into the drive, and when the back door opened to let her nan and father come in, Flanna nearly dropped the spoon she’d been using to stir the Bolognese.

“Where’s Jason?” Colin asked, his eyes straying to the closed door that led to the lounge.

“Taking a nap.” She glanced at Helen. “Nan, do you mind finishing the spaghetti? I need to talk to Dad for a minute.”

Handing the spoon over when her nan agreed, Flanna wiped her hands off on a tea towel before going out into the back garden. Her father followed, and once the door was closed behind him, she sat down on the bench, leaving enough room for him to join her.

“You talked to Jason,” he commented once he was settled.

She glanced at him curiously. He wasn’t even looking at her. Instead, his attention was directed above, at the sky already deep blue with wisps of pale clouds streaking to the horizon, the moon a ghostly crescent barely visible. “You’re not surprised,” she said.

“It needed to happen.”

“So, it’s true then?”

“I haven’t found a reason not to trust Jason yet.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

With a sigh, Colin sat up straighter and patted Flanna’s knee. “Where you start on your journey isn’t nearly as important as the path you take or the place you end up,” he said. “You hunt those that deserve to die, lassie. That’s the only difference that matters.”

She stayed on the bench long after he’d gone inside, mulling over what he had said. For whatever reason, there seemed to be more to his words than just confirming Jason’s assertions about curses. With all his talk about trust, Flanna could almost believe that her father was grooming Jason to fulfill a very different role in her life than was already being played. He was willing to concede her education to a man he’d only just met; that had to mean something significant.

She just couldn’t be sure why.