Wolf at the Door

chapter Twenty-five



“Ummmm . . .”

“Right.”

“Ah, God.”

“Right.”

“I’m numb . . . everywhere.”

“I warned you that might happen.”

Edward groaned and sat up. “Ow!”

“Careful.” She sat up as well and tried to examine his head in the gloom. The sun had been trying to set for the last hour.

“What the hell?”

“You hit your head on the desk.”

“What the hell!”

“Sit still; I can’t look at it if you keep wriggling.” She smelled sweat and semen and musk, but no blood. Felt the top of his head. No swelling. “I think you’re all right.”

“Tell that to my concussion.”

“I was.”

They were beneath the small rolltop desk in her living room. She had no idea how they’d ended up there. They had begun in the kitchen and moved to the floor beneath the plasma TV, and for a little while they were in her tub . . . probably . . .

“I’m hungry.”

“I’m not surprised. I saw you gobbling down those cupcakes right before you jumped me in the kitchen.”

“It’s called being a good guest.”

“Oh, is that what it’s called?”

“Did you bring me food, or just lab results?”

“I brought Oreos,” he said. Then, helpfully, “And milk, and a jar of peanut butter and some sandwich bread.”

“Nectar of the gods!” she exclaimed, and scrambled from beneath the desk.

A few minutes later, they were lying on her bed, wolfing down peanut butter sandwiches.

“You mean to tell me,” he said thickly through peanut butter, “I could have brought this sack for a first date and not dropped a ton of money on fresh seafood?”

“I told you to let me pay.”

“Because that’s just weird, Rachael. That is Outer Limits weird. You are a weird girl. Which is so hot, incidentally.”

“Thank you.” She stared at the Oreo in his hand until he handed it over. “Thank you!”

“I don’t think you’re even chewing.” He was peering at her, grinning. “I think it all just rockets into your gullet.”

“Does not. Shut up.” She licked her fingers. “Still want to have a picnic on the bluffs?”

“Now?” He glanced out a window. “It’s almost dark.”

“Yes, I know.”

“And you just ate all the food I brought for our picnic.”

“Yes, I know.”

“We won’t be able to see much.”

Wrong. I see everything.

“I want to go outside. Can’t we go outside now?”

“Sure, Rache. We’ll go wherever you want. Don’t worry, I packed tons of bug spray.”

Which is how they ended up on the bluffs overlooking the St. Croix River at nine thirty P.M. on a perfect August evening, reeking of N,N-Diethyl-meta-toluamide, also known as OFF! mosquito repellant.

“Oh, my,” she said, gazing around her.

“Yeah. I love it up here.”

They were seated just at the tree line, overlooking the river. They could see the city of Stillwater below, the restaurants lit up, the streetlights glowing. The river was a black trail beneath them, dotted with little blobs of light from the various boats.

A slight breeze brought dizzying scents to her: grass and trees and leaves and life. Mating rabbits about thirty-five feet away. White-tail deer cropping grass, sixty feet away.

“You okay?”

“I am very much okay.”

“Not too cold?” He’d brought blankets and spread them out with some ceremony. He’d brought more to wrap around her shoulders, though she would never feel the cold as quickly as he did.

“No.”

“See okay?”

A bald eagle cruising in the dark. Field mice scurrying for the tree line. A she-possum darting through dense underbrush with young clinging to her back.

“I can see . . .”

A pair of red-shouldered hawks, competing for the same prey, diving toward the cool blue water, only one emerging with a small bass. Their dive startled a heron, and she flapped away. Another bass, much bigger, jumped and arched and fell back into the river with a small splash.

“. . . everything.”

Oh, everything, she could see everything, and had she ever been so drunk when it wasn’t a full moon? It was two days away, but in her blood, the moon was full and rising and coloring everything she saw, everything she felt, and had it ever been like this? Ever?

No.

“Feels like we’re the only people up here. Not just here. Anywhere.”

It did. It did feel like that. Although she felt obliged to warn him . . . “It’s an illusion. There’s another couple, but they’re way down there.”

“Really? Gah, I can’t see that far.” Neither could she. But she could smell them. The breeze was blowing exactly the right way. “You must have kick-ass night vision.”

“Yes, that must be it.” She reached out, not looking, and found his hand. Clutched it. “Thank you. Thank you for bringing me here. For showing me this place.”

“Are you kidding? I’d take you anywhere, Rache. Anywhere you wanted to go. Anytime.”

“Then take me now.” She touched the back of his neck, pulled him forward, kissed him. She bit his mouth, lightly, and then stroked the bite with her tongue. His lust flared between them, sullen coals one second, a raging forest fire the next. “Here.”

“I’ve mentioned how completely awesome you are in every single way, right?”

“Many times.”

“Just making sure. Never let it be said that I take any one thing about you for granted in any way, ever.” He was tugging her shirt over her head, yanking at her shorts. She was doing the same to him, while reminding herself not to shred any items of clothing he would need later. “Um . . . we’re not gonna have company, are we?”

“They don’t know we’re here. They’re not even looking this way.”

“Oh thank God.”

“Wait . . . like this.”

“Oh my God.”

“And like this.

“Oh my God.”

“And . . . are you all right?’

“Well, I’m probably going to have a major cardiac event pretty soon. I’m pretty sure my pulse has never been so high for so sustained a period, but I’m okay with it. There are way worse ways to go than dying in your arms.”

She giggled as she turned him where she liked, as she went to her knees in front of him, as she put her weight on her elbows. “You won’t die, Edward. Probably.”

“Oh my God. Your ass . . . it’s perfect! You have a perfect ass! How have I not noticed this yet?” She could feel his fingers on her hips, grazing, then grasping. “Oh, who the f*ck cares?” Felt his fingers slip between her thighs, find her slippery, dip for a bare moment. “Ummm . . . oh God . . .” Felt him grip her hips, harder, felt that thick part of him start to slide inside.

She met his thrust, hard. His hips rocked back, then forward, hard. She clutched at the blanket, reminded herself not to tear it, and met him thrust for thrust. His groans were dark music to her, the way he sighed and whispered things was a mystic language she had never before known but now spoke fluently.

She didn’t know what his favorite color was, or his worst childhood memory, or his allergies (poor creatures . . . allergies !), or his favorite dessert. How could she feel so complete with a man she barely knew? Because she felt exactly that, and just as the dictionary defined it: complete. Lacking nothing; whole. Entire.

“Edward.”

“Ummm?”

“I’m going to come.”

“Oh God.”

“Right now.”

“Ahhhh! Jesus Christ, I can actually feel your muscles—aahhhh !”

Good thing I warned him.

He won’t really have a heart attack, will he? She pondered CPR for non-Pack members while at the same time feeling the world tilt as her orgasm bloomed like a black flower.

They met each other for a final thrust, and then he collapsed over her back. “I’m dying,” he groaned. “Everything’s going dark. Farewell, cruel world, which recently got really awesome.”

She giggled. “You can’t see a thing; how can anything go dark? You’re so odd, Edward.”

“Me? I’m odd? Me? Who cares? Rachael, you can call me anything you like, whenever you like, if we have more bluff sex later.”

“Bluff sex.” She was now laughing so hard she’d collapsed forward, losing a bit of breath as the rest of his weight came down on her. “Bluff sex?” She wriggled to poke him in the ribs. “Like all males, now that you’ve climaxed you are incapable of romance.”

“I’m chock-full of romance, you shrew. I’m so full of romance it’s leaking everywhere.” He poked her back, then grabbed her and gave her a rib-squeezing hug. “This is insane. You’re a hologram, I’ve told you that theory, right? Or I’m pulling a 28 Days Later and am comatose somewhere while zombies race the streets. Something this awesome simply is not happening in the real world.”

“Now: whoever said this was the real world?” If he knew of her world, he would believe it.

And for the first time, she started seriously wondering when and how to discuss that world with him. For the first time, that seemed like a natural progression. And as she was an accountant just as much as a Pack member, it seemed quite logical to her. One plus one equaled two. Edward should be told about the Pack so he could make informed decisions. Easy.

Sure.

So they snuggled on their blanket and looked at the stars, thought very different thoughts, and eventually dozed.