that to her? His lips hadn’t moved and yet she heard those directions as clearly as if he had spoken. Was part of Michael in her mind as well as in her veins?
“Does it hurt?” she asked. “Being a werewolf has to be no picnic. I’ve seen you shape-shift and it didn’t look like fun.”
He was using some kind of mesmerizing voodoo to pull her gaze back to his. The jolt of electricity sparking between them was immediate, and like a bolt of lightning stapling her to the bed.
“Yes. It hurts at first, while the body readjusts,” he replied. “Then you get used to it, and can look forward to the changes.”
She blinked slowly to absorb what Michael said, failing to counter that there was no alternative now, other than getting used to something like that, since the only other option had been taken away. Death.
No, not even death, since she would have come back as one of the undead if Michael hadn’t shown up.
“Well,” he said. “As much as I’d like to stay, you probably have class today. Go. Getting back into your routine will be good for you.”
Stunned by that suggestion, Kaitlin said, “Are you kidding? I go on as if nothing happened, and wait to see if anything will?”
“As much as you can, because that’s what life does. It goes on.”
“Are you a student?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I’m a carpenter.”
“What if I can’t act like life goes on? Where will I find you if I need help?” Her voice had grown noticeably quieter.
“Come to the park an hour before nightfall tonight. I’ll be there. That’s important, Kaitlin. Do you understand? It must be before dark.”
“The park? I—”
“You’ll be safe, I promise. You can bet that I keep my word.”
“Who will I find out there? Man or wolf?”
“Before nightfall, you’ll find me. I’ll be waiting. After nightfall, you’ll find more of your new self, and might not be ready.”
Her hands were shaking. Her face again felt cold. As much as she wanted Michael, she also wanted him gone. Yet the prospect of him leaving seemed daunting.
“If there’s no full moon?”
“Any moon phase can instigate small changes,” he said.
When Michael’s lips turned up at the corners, the moment became even more frightening. This was just another day in the life of a werewolf, while for her it was the end of life as she’d always known it.
Afraid to move, Kaitlin watched the thing she hoped for and dreaded all at the same time happen. Michael caught her chin so that she couldn’t look away. Then he swore beneath his breath as if trying one last time to fend off his feelings...before his mouth found hers.
The sensation of his slick lips sliding over hers wasn’t wholly unexpected. In that intimate act Kaitlin felt the wind in the trees and the dampness of grass beneath her toes. She felt moonlight on her face, and had a sudden urge to sprint through open spaces.
All in his kiss.
Not even a kiss, really. Merely a touch.
However, he soon changed that.
Adding pressure, Michael urged her lips to participate. His warm tongue met hers, sending Kaitlin spinning.
She strained for more of what he had to offer, yearning for a connection that would tame her fears. She grasped at life, seeking to understand what had happened to her, how this man had saved her with his blood and what would become of her now.
She struggled to comprehend the images she’d been shown and the future she would have to come to terms with if any of this could possibly be real.
It was all so damn freaky.
Thoughts fled as Michael’s talented mouth conquered hers in a way that left her mindless. His kiss became a deep, devouring act that demanded she respond in kind.
The kiss went on and on as though it might never end, and as if they’d never get enough of each other. Hunger sparked memory. This was what she recalled—Michael’s breath in her lungs and his mouth on hers, there at death’s door. This was what she needed now in order to get up and go on.
Michael...
As if sensing how desperately she demanded this connection, the pressure of Michael’s mouth lightened. His lips left hers to angle across her left cheek, drifting toward her neck in a downward trajectory of kisses. He paused near the band of her T-shirt, took hold of the cotton with both hands and crumpled the fabric in his fist.
He was so damn hot. The room was humid and stifling. Her body was quaking with a longing that had nothing to do with life-altering transitions...unless it was about becoming intimate with a man she really didn’t know.
This was body betrayal, big-time, with the hope that Michael would stay and finish what they had started. Maybe then she’d be able to rest. Possibly she’d get over this ridiculous crush if their bodies actually merged.
“Wait.”
The command was loud, though it had been whispered through her cracked lips.
God, had she said that?
Michael heeded that command. His head came up. When he looked into her eyes, Kaitlin detected defiance in his gaze, and knew he was scrambling for a hold on his own wayward needs. Still, he was going to do what she asked, no matter what that cost him.
“You’re right, of course.” His voice emerged as a growl.
She had to say something. “I owe you for saving my life.”
“But now isn’t the time to repay me, and I wouldn’t expect that kind of payment from you anyway, especially when you might not be happy with the way things turn out.”
He didn’t smile as he went on. “If I go now, you’ll settle down. Being near another wolf tends to bring out the wolf in you, and in me. I know that, and I thought...” He let that part dangle, and started again. “Your allure is strong, Kaitlin. I’ll admit that.”
Michael straightened up before she could reach for him. He leaned over her once more, with both hands on the bed beside her. Eyes closed, Kaitlin waited for his mouth to betray his words and for Michael to ignore her outburst in spite of what he’d just said.
There was to be no further touch.
She heard the click of a door and opened her eyes to find herself alone. Michael had left her with the tan paper bag.
Her own growl of distress rose in her throat as her stomach again turned over. Giving in to the rush of feeling she’d trapped in her core, Kaitlin tore into the paper bag as though it were made of tissue—ripping it apart, sending pieces of paper flying.
If she couldn’t have Michael, she’d at
