Moonsong, page 9
“I think I’ve been pretty upfront with him about my feelings so far.”
“But you didn’t tell him you spent time at Cutter’s cabin.”
“Well no, I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, besides… Cutter said I can never go back there.” Her gaze went out over the water, watching the boats coming into the harbor. Scarlett studied her cousin for a long moment, the silence stretching between them.
“But you want to see him again?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Amelia shook her head. “He said Grandmother would blow a gasket if she knew I’d been out there.”
“She might not like it, that’s true. Adele was furious when he cut himself off from the pack and abandoned his duties. Do you think he wants to see you again?”
Thinking back to their last exchange before he’d sent her on her way, the way he’d touched her face so gently, the timbre of his voice… She’d seen regret in his eyes even as he propelled her towards the door. Was she reading too much into that single touch? After all, he’d seemed eager enough for her to leave him alone. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t believe in any curse do you?”
“No, I don’t believe in curses,” Millie acknowledged with a faint smile.
“So what’s stopping you then?”
Chapter Eleven
There was someone in his house.
If he hadn’t been so damned distracted dragging the huge piece of wood back to the cabin, he might have scented it in the air or heard something. But as it was, Cutter had only seconds to react when he heard the door being pulled open from the inside. Immediately his hand cocked back, ready to throw the first punch before he realized who it was poking around in his cabin.
Amelia froze on her way out the door, an almost comical look of surprise on her face as she came face to face with Cutter, a dusty throw rug in her hands.
“Jesus Christ, what the hell are you doing in my house?” he demanded, shaking with fury. Not because she was trespassing, but because he’d come dangerously close to hurting her. He’d almost shifted his hand to razor sharp claws; he could have easily scarred her for life!
Amelia’s face fell at his outburst. “Nice to see you too,” she returned sourly, stepping back to let him past her.
Moving inside, Cutter could see the signs of her handiwork around the place. He wasn’t sure what bothered him more, that she thought she had the right to barge in there uninvited or the fact that his lungs felt tight in his chest at the sight of her again, just as beautiful as she’d been in his dreams each night since they’d met. The dreams that made him wake each morning sick with longing for things he could never have again.
“Exactly which part of ‘don’t come back here’ was unclear?” he muttered, stepping back outside to fetch the huge hunk of wood he’d been carrying back to the cabin, having a little trouble getting it to fit through the door.
Amelia followed him out, shaking the rug vigorously, her face scrunched up at the dust and dirt that flew. “I came to check up on you and bring you something,” she replied once she was done, moving right past him to replace the rug in its original position.
She brought him a gift? “Yeah well, as you can see I’m fine, so…” he nodded towards the door. With a roll of the eyes, Millie simply picked up the next rug and repeated the process, paying no attention to his not so subtle suggestion. Cutter watched her, stunned that she was ignoring him in his own home. Maybe he’d fallen asleep out in the woods and it was another one of his dreams? “Amelia, we talked about this, about it being a bad idea for you to be here…” he tried again, slowly and rationally.
Sneezing at the dust, it took her a moment to reply, only doing so as she stepped back over his threshold again. “You talked, I listened; not exactly the same thing. Relax Cutter, I’m not moving in, I came to bring you something and check on your stitches. Should you really be lugging around a big piece of wood like that in your condition?” she frowned as she replaced the second rug.
“In my condition?” he snorted. “I told you, I’m fine, I’m a fast healer.”
“So I hear. Still, I want to take a look at it, make sure there’s no sign of infection. Take off your shirt,” she ordered, bending to pull out his medicine box from the cabinet.
“Amelia…” Cutter pinched the bridge of his nose; he could feel a tension headache coming on.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby, take your shirt off or I’ll have to cut if off you.” Millie held up the medical scissors and snipped them a couple of times for emphasis, pushing him back towards the table and chairs.
“Alright, but once you see I’m just fine you have to leave, deal?”
“That’s gratitude for you, I come all the way out here to make sure you’re not at death’s door, bring you a thank you gift, and all you wanna do is get rid of me,” she sighed, leaning against the table as she waited for him to take his shirt off.
At death’s door; where did she get that idea? Cutter pulled off his t-shirt, revealing a broadly muscled chest, not covered by an undershirt that day. “Thanks for this by the way, the guys got a real hoot out of your color choice,” he said dryly, pointing to the bright pink thread she’d sewn him up with.
“Why, real men can’t wear pink?” she snorted, leaning closer to get a good look at the wound. The skin was slightly swollen and pink but the wound knit together as he’d predicted. “Amazing…” she breathed, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the puckered skin.
About to say something in response to her pink comment, the words died in Cutter’s throat as her fingers skimmed lightly over the sensitive flesh, overwhelmed for a moment by the scent of her dark hair falling over her shoulder to graze against his bare skin. She smelled of strawberries and her own unique scent, the same scent that had just started to fade from his pillow where she’d rested the other day. Her fingers continued their exploration, tracing over the tattoo that lay over his heart in a tribal design.
Knowing he shouldn’t allow her that kind of freedom with his body no matter what it stirred inside him, or because of what it stirred within, his hand rose up to catch her wrist, gently staying her hand. “Amelia…” he breathed, unable to work up much bluster. Amelia’s eyes dropped to his mouth, tongue darting out to moisten her lips. The sight of that pink tongue was almost enough to be his undoing, and he felt a corresponding twitch in his jeans as he imagined the taste of her. Undoubtedly as heady as her scent, Cutter knew he’d lose himself in her if he ever allowed himself such a taste.
One kiss would never be enough.
Instead of closing the distance between them as every instinct cried out for him to do, he deliberately leaned back, straightening his spine. Millie nodded slowly, withdrawing to pick up the surgical scissors again.
“I’m thinking these can come out now, unless you like them as sort of a fashion statement,” she grinned.
“I’ll pass,” he smirked back, relieved when the little minx released him from her spell and they returned to familiar ground again.
“Hold still…” she instructed him as though he was a little boy, snipping through the little pink stitches, using a pair of tweezers to pluck the threads free as she went along. “Do you always heal this fast?”
“I told you I’d be fine.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know, so sue me for worrying about you.”
“You were worried about me?” The thought stroked his ego, bringing a lopsided grin to his face before he remembered he was supposed to be discouraging that.
“Isn’t that what I’ve been saying this whole time? Why else would I haul my cookies all the way out here to brave your temper?” she pointed out.
“You brought cookies?” Cutter asked with interest, she had mentioned something of a gift after all.
“No, not cookies, but you’re on the right track.”
“What do you have in there?” Cutter reached for the pack but she smacked his hand away while she continued the last few threads.
“Hold your horses…” she muttered. “There, all done.” Millie sat back when she was finished. “I’m afraid you’re gonna have an interesting scar there.”
“It’ll be gone within the week,” Cutter disagreed, already pulling his shirt back on.
“Really? That must be nice, I’ve got a couple of doozies; I wouldn’t mind seeing them disappear for good.”
“Someone hurt you?” The growl instantly returned to his voice at the thought of anyone daring to touch her in anger, especially that whelp Adele was rearing.
“What? No, I’m talking about scars from years ago. This one…” she tugged up the leg of her pants to reveal a faded scar across her knee, “…is from the second grade. I fell on a piece of glass playing hopscotch, and I kept falling on it and busting it back open all summer long. And this one…” she showed him a crescent shaped scar on her ankle. “I burnt my leg on the tailpipe of my dad’s motorcycle, but actually that one’s pretty faded now, you can hardly see it unless you’re really looking.
All Cutter was really looking at was her bared leg; smooth, creamy skin practically crying out for his touch. Was she a new kind of torture for him to endure, more punishment from the Gods for his mistakes? “Yeah, you can hardly see it,” he replied, averting his eyes. “Now about my present?” he prompted, changing the subject.
“Right, I noticed your diet here is a little… limited shall we say, so I brought you something different. It’s my turn to cook dinner tonight, so I made a little extra.” Unzipping her pack, she withdrew a large Tupperware container and slid it across the table towards him.
Cutter opened the corner and sniffed carefully, his mouth watering as the spices reached his nose. She’d made him enchiladas.
“I hope you like spicy food; it’s what I was raised on, so I sometimes forget not everyone likes food that makes you sweat,” she grinned, pulling out another smaller container and sliding it over. “Salsa to go with the chips I saw in there the other day, you didn’t eat them already did you?” A shake of the head, he tried to think the last time anyone had cooked for him and drew a blank. “Oh good, so we’ve got enchiladas, chips and salsa, the beans weren’t ready yet, so I didn’t bring those over, but I did bring you some dessert. Lemon snow bars, they were Luc’s favorite, I hope you like them,” she slid over the last container. “Oh, and this.”
Cutter simply stared at her when she handed him a single orange, unsure how it went with the meal. “An orange…”
“I didn’t see any fresh fruit over here the other day, and well, I didn’t want you to get scurvy. Or is it rickets? I can never remember which one of those comes from not eating enough fruit, so…”
Laughter burst out of him, harder than he’d laughed in a long time. So hard, his ribs actually felt sore as he engaged those seldom used muscles, and Amelia flushed bright red.
“I should go,” she muttered, turning towards the door.
“Wait.” His hand reached out to catch her, the last tremors of laughter still coursing through him as he pulled her close. “What am I going to do with you?” he groaned, tumbling her onto his lap.
“I was just trying to help,” she gave him a disgruntled pout.
She’d gotten to him with an orange.
“Thank you for worrying about me,” his thumb touched her bottom lip, grinning over her sulk. “It’s been a long time since anyone worried whether or not I was in danger of getting scurvy. Actually, I don’t think anyone’s ever worried about that before,” Cutter considered aloud.
“Well, I saw this documentary, and okay, I wasn’t paying super close attention, but I do remember them saying it came from lack of a varied diet and you have to admit, your cupboards aren’t exactly well balanced,” she pointed out. “I thought you’d make a pretty silly looking wolf if all your teeth fell out from it.” Millie reached out to touch his jaw, the smile returning to her face.
Lord above, where did she come up with this stuff? Cutter shook his head at her in wonder, the smile still on his lips. “They have this new fangled invention, it’s called a multi-vitamin, ever hear of it?” he teased her back, smiling a little wider as her expression grew indignant once more.
“How was I supposed to know you had heard of them before, living out here in the sticks all by yourself like a hermit?” she demanded.
“Fair enough,” Cutter made an effort to curtail his amusement. “Thank you for safeguarding my teeth.” Teeth that wanted nothing more than to nip that succulent earlobe that was so tantalizingly close. He cleared his throat, tamping down that particular urge before things got out of hand.
“You’re welcome,” Millie replied, settling her arm around his shoulders and he raised a dark brow at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Getting comfortable, you don’t make all that comfortable a seat, you know that? You’re too hard all over.” She shifted her bottom on his lap for emphasis.
Sweet Jesus, if she only knew… “You’re not helping,” he muttered, grabbing hold of her hips to hold them still before he lost all restraint.
“Hey, I was all set to leave; you’re the one who pulled me onto your lap.” Amelia shifted once more for good measure, smiling as his hands gripped her hips a little tighter in response.
“Maybe it was so I could give you a good spanking,” he growled with mock severity and her nose wrinkled delicately.
“I’ve never gotten into that, but I dunno, could be fun.”
“What am I going to do with you?” he groaned, not for the first time.
“What do you want to do with me?” she gave him an arch smile.
“Amelia, a man only has so much self control.”
“That’s exactly what I was counting on,” Millie leaned close, lips brushing lightly against the side of his face.
A man only has so much self control. The words echoed in his ears as she pushed him past the threshold of his restraint, the touch of her lips his undoing. Turning into that hesitant kiss, he captured her mouth with his, hand smoothing up the back of her shirt to sink into the hair at the nape of her neck, binding her to him as he took his fill of what she offered.
She was so soft. Everywhere he touched her, tasted her; he had almost forgotten the sweet softness of a woman in his self imposed solitude. Cutter could only imagine what it would be like to bury himself in her softness, hardening painfully below at the thought of making her truly his.
But she wasn’t his to have, was she?
The sobering thought cut through his desire like a bucket of cold water, and he wrenched his lips from hers, breathing raggedly. Amelia’s eyes fluttered open to stare at him with hurt confusion.
“What is it? What’s wrong?”
“You don’t belong to me, I have no right…” he shook his head, still struggling with the desire to scoop her up and carry her into his bed to refute those words.
“I don’t belong to anyone, and I say who has the right,” Amelia smiled, brushing her mouth over his again and he turned away from those succulent lips.
“I can’t start this with you Amelia, I’m not what you want,” Cutter growled, his mood souring quickly. Forcing her from his lap, he stood and paced away from her, able to think a little more clearly without her in such close proximity.
“Isn’t that up to me; who and what I want?”
“You don’t know what you want, you’re just a kid.”
“You make it sound like I’m a teenager,” Millie complained. “Maybe I don’t know what I want, but isn’t that the point of life, to figure it out?” She took a step towards him, reaching out to smooth her hands over his chest.
“I know it shouldn’t be me,” Cutter grasped her hands and kept them still. “Amelia, you can’t come back here,” he said softly, brushing a gentle kiss against her forehead in farewell.
“I know,” she nodded slowly.
The next time she came, she brought cookies.
Chapter Twelve
She’d lasted all of three days, keeping to the house and the immediate grounds. Distracted enough for Scarlett to notice; her cousin pressed for details but Amelia simply shook her head, not quite ready to talk about it. The Tupperware from her thank you gift had appeared the next morning, freshly washed and neatly stacked by the back door, no note or sign of the man who’d brought it.
Chase had been preoccupied with some task from Adele, and she’d barely seen him for the past few days, leaving her conflicted as to whether or not the attraction she felt for the young wolf had faded in the face of Cutter’s kiss, or if it could be found again. In fact, she almost wished Chase would appear and sweep her off of her feet; make her forget how Cutter’s kiss had made her feel.
Because all she could think about was that kiss.
The memory of his lips on hers haunted her dreams and invaded her waking thoughts to the exclusion of all else. After waking for the third straight morning in a row, her sheets damp with perspiration and swearing she could still feel the rasp of his unshaven jaw on the swell of her breast, she decided to bite the bullet and go see him again. The worst he could do was tell her to go home again, but if he didn’t… if he felt the same way…
The cabin awaited her; a thin column of smoke from the chimney signaling someone had been there recently, maybe even waiting inside. Stomach fluttering in anticipation, she entered after a brief knock, disappointment lancing hot through her belly as she realized he wasn’t home. Amelia resolved to wait for him, opening the pack to bring out the other item she’d thought to pack for this visit.
Windex.
Keeping busy, she waited for Cutter to return, but there was no sign of him. When the afternoon was all but gone, Millie picked up her pack to head back to the house, heart heavy with disappointment. The large Tupperware container filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies was left on the table where he was sure to see it. She debated whether or not to leave him a note, but in the end it seemed unnecessary. Who else would bring him cookies?
Trying not to read too much into his absence, she left the cabin, eyes scanning the tree line for any possible sign of him before she left. With a heartfelt sigh, Amelia began the trek back home, oblivious to the dark shape that followed behind to see her safely home.
