Moonsong, page 6
Millie nodded, not sure what to say to that either. “Thank you. All kidding aside, I would have been in serious trouble out there today if you hadn’t happened along.”
“Don’t mention it, kid,” he shrugged away her thanks with his good shoulder.
“No, I mean it, you were right. I had no business being out there alone today, it’s the first rule of hiking, right?” She’d come seriously close to dying that afternoon and only then did it start to sink in as things calmed down.
“Hey, it was one of those coincidences. Most days I don’t ever see anything that big around here, he must have been really hungry to try and bring down something so large,” he gave her shoulder an awkward pat.
That wasn’t exactly a comforting thought as it brought to mind those teeth and claws rending and tearing. If it had been her shoulder the cat had gotten a hold of, she would have been a goner. “You spend most of your time out in the woods alone?”
“A fair amount of time.”
Finishing the final stitch, Amelia knotted the bright pink thread and snipped off the end, leaning back to admire her handiwork. “Not too bad if I do say so myself. Another shot of vodka now…” she warned picking up the bottle.
“Hey, not too much of it, that stuff ain’t cheap.”
“You drank way more than I poured out, so you should take some of your own advice and slow down,” she pointed out, dousing the wound carefully. Blotting him off with another square of gauze, Millie wrapped his shoulder with more fresh bandages.
“Yeah, yeah…”
Finally done wrapping his shoulder with the ace bandage as an outer covering, Amelia reached for the bottle of Jim Beam herself and took a long drink, making a face as soon as she swallowed. “How can you drink that stuff?” she gasped; throat feeling like it was on fire.
“It’s an acquired taste,” he grinned over her reaction, capping the bottle and shoving it farther down the table. “Well, Miss Amelia, you’ve done your doctoring, you’d best be on your way.” Lurching to his feet, he nearly lost his balance as he’d forgotten about the wrenched knee, crashing into her.
“That’s gratitude for you,” Millie grunted, staggering under his weight. “Where’s your bed?” She’d have to get him off his feet before he keeled over and really hurt himself.
“First trying to get my shirt off and now trying to get me into bed… the day is looking up,” he chuckled.
“Yeah, that was my whole seduction plan, to get you drunk and into bed. You have no idea how hard it was to get that mountain lion out there and coax it to attack on command.” He hadn’t answered her question but she led him towards the only other door in the room besides the front door.
“I knew it; it’s my animal magnetism, draws ‘em in every time,” Cutter laughed again and Amelia gave an inelegant snort.
“That’s it alright. Come on then, Romeo; let’s get you into bed so you can dazzle me with your amazing passing out skills.” The bedroom itself was marginally cleaner, the bed covered with fresh linens.
Plopping down heavily on the edge of the bed, Cutter immediately stretched out with a groan as he lay back onto the pillow. “Just need to get my second wind,” he murmured drowsily.
“Yep, you’ll be up and running marathons in no time, I’m sure,” Amelia replied in a soft voice, stepping back from the bed to consider if she should leave him like that. Thinking better of it, she tugged his boots free. “Can I get you anything? Some water? A blanket?” The room felt chilly, not much of the warmth from the fireplace in the other room reaching the bedroom. His skin was warm though, almost hot to the touch, and she worried about the possibility of fever and infection. Would it set in that fast? When he didn’t reply, Amelia pulled up the blanket from the other side of the bed and folded it over him like a cocoon, which he immediately pushed off with a drowsy grumble. Millie smiled down at him; even in his sleep he was ornery and stubborn.
Now that he was settled, she really had no reason to linger, but Amelia found she couldn’t bring herself to leave yet. The house begged for a little tidying up and once she started, it was hard to stop. A brief search through the cabinets found few cleaning supplies, but she did find an old t-shirt of his that she used to start dusting and getting rid of the ancient cobwebs, save for one that was still occupied by a fat little spider.
Cutter gave no sign of stirring by the time she was done. He looked a little younger without the perpetual scowl on his face, though even in sleep his forehead didn’t lose the crease of worry, as if he was afraid to completely let go. What kind of man lived out in the woods all alone, she wondered? Peace and quiet she could understand, self enforced solitude? Not so much.
Her stomach rumbled noisily, reminding that she hadn’t eaten much before the attack. Helping herself to some cheese crackers, Amelia wandered through the cabin, pausing to look at the photos on the mantel she’d dusted off earlier. There were old black and white pictures of what she assumed were family members from the 30’s and the 50’s in front of a big white house, several of two little boys playing together, big goofy grins on their faces as they mugged it up for the camera. There was also a picture of a stunning blonde, surrounded by a sea of male admirers.
At the end of the mantle sat a small wooden carving of a flower, its petals unfurled, surrounded by leaves and tendrils of vine all carved from a single piece of wood. The wood had been sanded so that it was velvet soft and delicately stained to give the flower real depth of color not usually seen in an unpainted piece. Incredibly detailed, the texture on the leaves had been painstakingly done to mimic the organic, and she reached out to touch the piece in wonder, surprised at how sturdy the delicate looking little piece proved to be. It seemed out of place in such a masculine surrounding, as did the faded curtains at the windowsills that once sported a bright yellow gingham pattern.
For some reason it never occurred to her to feel guilty about going through his things. After all, it wasn’t as though she’d rifled through personal papers or gone through his underwear drawer. She was just getting a measure of the man who leapt to her aid with no regard for his own personal safety. So far, all she could tell was he lived alone, and wasn’t all that big on creature comforts.
That driving sense of curiosity led her back to the bedroom door to peek in on Cutter. Amelia gingerly reached out to touch his good shoulder, alarmed to find it hot and moist with perspiration. Fever had taken hold of him, and as she touched the side of his face his eyes fluttered open, hand snaking out to clamp around her wrist with much more speed than she would have imagined capable from a feverish man coming out of a sleep.
“Who…” Cutter licked his lips, swallowing past a parched throat.
Had he forgotten her already? “It’s me… Amelia. Are you…”
“Water…” he croaked, interrupting as his hand fell weakly away.
“I’ll be right back, wait there.” Quick to fetch him a glass of water, she pressed the glass into his hand. Cutter gulped greedily, spilling against the pillow in his haste to get the cool liquid down his throat.
“More,” he demanded; his voice a little stronger. It took two more trips to slake the thirst enough for him to sip at the last glass, and she sat down gingerly on the side of the bed beside him.
“Cutter, we have to take you to the doctor…”
“No doctors,” he growled, “I’ll be fine, this isn’t the first time I’ve been wounded like this.”
“But you’re burning up…”
“It’s normal, it’ll break tonight or tomorrow, it always does,” he grunted, shifting on the bed to get more comfortable. “More water…”
“Alright,” Amelia capitulated, bringing back two glasses of water this time in case he drained them outright like last time, but he seemed content after a couple of gulps. “I should let you get some rest then…” she started to rise, but his hand flashed out to clamp onto hers again.
“Stay with me…”
Surprised at the request, Amelia sank down beside him again. “Alright,” she agreed. “Just relax then, I’ll be here when you wake up,” she promised, reaching out to stroke his brow with her free hand. Cutter immediately eased, his head turning instinctively towards her gentle touch, the lines in his face relaxing. Before too long, he slipped into a deeper sleep, less troubled than his earlier rest, if his face was any indication. His hand grew slack in hers, and he gave no sign of stirring when she let go of him.
Reluctant to leave him after promising to stay, Millie rose carefully from the bed so as not to disturb him, moving to the sole bookcase jammed with hardbound novels, some new and some yellowed with age. Glancing over the spines, she came across another wooden figurine, with enough weight to it to be used as a bookend, even though the novels on the shelf fought for storage space. Again the attention to detail was fascinating; the figure of a wolf sitting up on its haunches was incredibly lifelike and cleverly stained to give a depth of color to its coat. The tongue lolling out gave it an almost comical look, and she found her lips curving into a smile as her fingers ran over it in appreciation.
Picking out a book she’d read before, Millie made her way back to the bed, this time moving to the opposite side where there was more room. Gingerly she climbed up beside him, propping herself up to a seated position against the carved headboard. Almost immediately Cutter turned towards her, and she could feel the heat blazing from his body as he nuzzled up close to her hip, his heavy arm atop her thighs as he settled in comfortably. Momentarily stunned by the move, Amelia shifted a little to get more comfortable, noting how difficult it was to move under the weight of that arm.
For a man who spent the better part of the afternoon pushing her away, he certainly seemed bent on keeping her at his side, and she had to smile over the shift from the grumpy man. What would his reaction be when he woke and realized the position he’d put himself in? Would the gruffness return, or had she passed some kind of unspoken test and gained acceptance from him?
Her hand fell to smooth the unruly dark hair away from his face, and he made a contented sound, almost like a sigh in his sleep. Opening the borrowed book, Amelia began to read; one hand continuing to sift through the dark locks absently, taking a measure of comfort herself in the soothing gesture.
Chapter Eight
It was on the cusp of evening when he awoke, the light filtering through the stained windows had that dying cast to it, heralding the twilight. Thoughts a little muddled upon first waking, Cutter blinked the sleep away from his eyes enough to note that the pillow he thought he’d been holding onto proved to be the lower half of a woman, his face pressed to the flare of her hip. Pulling back to get a better look at her, he found his pretty nurse fast asleep; her head lolling at an uncomfortable angle to one side, book forgotten on the bed beside her.
For long seconds he allowed himself to look his fill, taking in the delicate arch of her brows, the dark spray of lashes that fanned against her cheek, the plump lips that beckoned to him even in her unconscious state. She hadn’t left him, even though it’d been hours since he first stumbled upon her in that clearing. With a frown of dismay, he dimly recalled asking her to stay. Why had he done that? Having her there sure wouldn’t affect his healing rate in any way, why ask the poor girl to stick around? She must have been bored to death with no TV or distractions; even the book hadn’t been enough to keep her awake.
Shifting beside her, he tested his shoulder carefully. Instead of a burning sting, the pain had reduced to a dull, throbbing ache that matched the throbbing in his head from too much bourbon. From experience he knew he had to get some food into him to help replenish his stores, but for the moment he was content to lie there.
Millie’s eyes fluttered open at the movement and she stretched her neck. “Hey…” she smiled down at him, her voice husky from sleep. “Feeling better?”
Transfixed by her smile, Cutter scowled when he realized what he was doing, moving away to sit up on his side of the bed with a slight wince. “You should leave before it gets dark.”
“Dark?” her eyes went to the window. “There’s still some time before it gets full on dark, how’s your temperature?” she pressed, reaching out to touch his forehead.
Cutter shrugged away her hand, finding he craved that gentle touch. “It’s better,” he muttered, reaching for the glass of water on the bedside table, downing it. “I meant what I said though; these woods can be dangerous after dark. You be more careful where you go hiking; the owner of these lands doesn’t take kindly to trespassers.”
“I’m not too worried about that, I have permission to be in these woods.”
“Permission? That doesn’t mean you don’t have something to worry about. Are you sure what kind of strings come attached to that permission?” he smirked, sipping at the second glass of water, but she met his caution with laughter.
“I hardly think she’s gonna shoot me for trespassing, I’m her granddaughter.”
Cutter went completely rigid on the bed next to her. “You’re Adele LaRoche’s granddaughter?” he asked in a tight voice, already swearing in four languages in his head as he cursed himself for not finding out who she was before allowing her into his home.
“You must know her if you’re one of them, right?”
“You’re Amelie LaRoche.” He ignored her question, his voice devoid of inflection.
“Well, sort of, I prefer Amelia or Millie, why?”
“Get out,” he barked, rising from his bed with a wince of pain.
“What? Why?” Amelia scrambled out of his bed, her confusion plainly written all over her face.
Realizing he sounded cold and irrational, Cutter swore under his breath, wondering why he cared if he hurt her feelings. “You need to leave, trust me, your grandmother doesn’t want you here or anywhere near me,” he made an effort to soften his tone of voice.
“I don’t understand, why would she care if I was here with you, you’re not some kind of axe murderer are you?” she laughed nervously.
“No,” he gave her a pained look. “Just… I wouldn’t tell her you were out here if I were you, alright?” Or maybe it would be better if she did tell Adele? Then she would likely be forbidden from returning, and his life could get back to its regular routine.
“Okay… but next time I want to know what the big deal is alright?”
Cutter caught her arm and turned her to face him, making sure to keep his hold gentle. “No Amelia, you can’t come back here. Ever,” his eyes bored into hers, absolutely serious. “Do you understand me?” Frozen by his arresting gaze, Amelia nodded mutely, her face solemn. “I’m sorry.” Not entirely certain what it was he was apologizing for; his tone, his gruff manner, or for ordering her from his home, he reached up to lightly trace the contour of her cheek. Savoring the velvety smoothness of her skin, inhaling her delicate scent, he committed her features to memory before he did the right thing and sent her on her way. “Go home, Amelia,” his tone was gentle that time.
“Thank you,” she said simply. Turning her face into his touch Millie impulsively placed a soft kiss to his roughened palm before pulling away and stepping through the open doorway.
A growl of desire rumbled deep in his chest at the swift touch of her lips, and his hand clenched tight to keep from pulling her closer once she stepped out of his grasp. What the hell was wrong with him? It had been far too long since a woman’s lips had given even so much as an innocent touch like that. That had to be why he felt such stirrings for a woman he should rightly hate for her relation to Adele LaRoche.
Even as he tried to put her from his mind, Cutter couldn’t help but note the way she hugged her arms tight, having lost her flannel shirt to his bandage. Did she even know how to find her way home in the woods in the fading light? With a disgusted sigh, he realized what he had to do, otherwise what good would it have done to save her that afternoon if she got herself killed on the way home?
It was going to hurt like hell but he started peeling off his clothes. With the newly healing injuries, the shift would be especially painful.
*
Amelia heard the howl of the wolf behind her and picked up the pace. Not completely clueless, she figured out which way was north and headed for the house, looking for familiar signs the entire way. The break in the trees revealing Gran’s back yard caught her by surprise; it only took twenty minutes to hike at a brisk clip from Cutter’s cabin to her new home. Her earlier trek must have taken her on a more meandering path.
The slam of the back door reached her ears before she had time to register the blur moving towards her, Chase’s intense gaze catching her eyes at the same time she felt the bite of his hand on her upper arm.
“Where the hell have you been?” he barked, eyes blazing.
“Ow, nice to see you too.” Amelia tried to wrench her arm free, but his vice-like grip was unshakable.
“Damn it, that’s no answer, Millie. Where were you?”
“Let go of my arm, you’re hurting me!” Amelia insisted, struggling to break free. “I’m not answering a Goddamn thing until you let go of me!” her chin came up pugnaciously.
Chase’s hand fell away, “Where… have… you… been?” he bit out each word, as if just barely able to control his temper and Amelia rubbed her arm where the skin still stung, scowling back at him.
“What’s wrong with you? I went for a walk, no big deal.”
“No big deal? You’ve been gone for hours, Millie. Hours. I was about to start a search party.”
“What for?” she frowned. “It’s not like I disappeared with a ransom note, I went for an afternoon hike. What, I can’t go for a walk on my own without it being a federal case?” The protective vibe was starting to get old fast.
“I told you to stay out of the woods.”
“No, you asked me to stay out of the woods at night. Do you see the distinction?” she replied hotly.
Chase’s eyes widened when he caught sight of the blood on her shirt. “You’re bleeding?” He started to tug her shirt up to get a look at her wounds.
