She smiled grimly. “It’s what he came for. It’s all he wants.” Other than Jacinta. She grabbed the soap and quickly began washing.
The heat of her grandmother’s gaze burned into Kat’s back. After a while Kat said, “What?”
“You didn’t answer my question, you know.”
“That’s because nothing of importance happened. You want to work up a kit of goodies I can take into the cave? I have to get back to Ethan in case he wakes.”
She knew her grandmother wasn’t fooled by her casual tone and words. Tears stung her eyes, but she blinked them away. Right now, she really didn’t want to talk about it. Not when there were more important things to worry about.
Besides, she definitely didn’t want to know for certain that she’d committed her heart, her body, and her soul to a man who would never love her.
Gwen sighed, then levered herself off the bathtub and walked out. Kat closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool tiles. He’d told and told her he couldn’t love her, but she’d refused to believe him. Until tonight. Until he’d made his promises and celebrated a union to a woman that she wasn’t. It hurt. God, how it hurt!
My fault, she thought. If she hadn’t been so pig-headedly certain she was right and he was wrong … She took a deep breath and pushed away from the tiles. Right and wrong weren’t important. Getting those kids back was. Everything else would save for later.
She finished washing and quickly dried herself before heading into her bedroom to get dressed. She grabbed a sweater and boots for Ethan, then walked back into the living room.
Gwen offered her the backpack. “You’ve got stakes, sleep bombs that’ll affect both zombies and shape-shifters—oh, and some masks for you and Ethan for protection—and some holy water. Be careful.”
Kat swung the pack over her shoulders and gave her grandmother a hug. “Keep safe.”
“I intend to kick this thing’s butt, so don’t worry about me.”
Kat grinned and grabbed her cell phone off the table. “It’ll take us an hour to get back up the mountain on foot, and God knows how long to snatch the kids. If you get a car, I’ll give you a call and let you know where to meet us.”
“I might let Ethan’s boss in on the pickup. Might be handy if we can swap the kids into a different car somewhere along the line.”
“Good idea.” She kissed her grandmother, then headed for the door.
“Kat?”
She hesitated and looked over her shoulder. The understanding in her grandmother’s green eyes threatened to shatter the wall she was building around her emotions.
“The promises a werewolf makes under the divine light are very rarely false ones.”
“They are if the woman he sees when he’s making his promises is not the one he’s with,” she said, and walked out.
THE SOFT SOUND OF A FOOTSTEP WOKE ETHAN. HE DIDN’T open his eyes, remaining still as he listened. Material scraped against wood, then silence fell again. The wind whispered through the trees and thunder rumbled in the distance. The air was crisp, cold, and filled with the scent of the storm, the ripeness of the wet ground, and Kat.
Her scent was on his skin, her taste in his mouth. Every intake of air seemed bathed in her essence. Longing stirred his body to life, but right now, it was a need he had to ignore. At least until he found out what had happened and how he’d gotten here.
There was only one thing he was certain of—hours had passed. The storm had eased, and dawn had come and gone. But the full moon was closer than ever, and the hunger in his veins would continue to escalate right through the day until the animal in his soul finally took control. Only then would he be free of the burning need.
He looked around. Kat was fully dressed and sitting cross-legged on a log six feet away.
“Gwen dropped by,” she said before he could ask. “She also brought some weapons.”
She was lying, though why he was so certain he couldn’t say. He pushed away the forest and blanket covering him and rose. Her gaze skated down his body and jumped away, but he could smell her arousal as easily as he could feel his own.
“What happened after the explosion?” he asked.
Her posture suggested wariness, and something churned in his gut. What on earth had he done?
“You don’t remember?”
He caught the sweater she tossed him. “Not a lot after the explosion.” He hesitated. He remembered the power of the moon singing through his veins, through the very air around them. Remembered howling her name to the moon. He brushed his fingers across his jeans pockets as he pulled on the sweater. Most of the condoms were gone, but that didn’t really mean he’d used them. “I remember making love.”
Relief flared briefly in her eyes, but he had a feeling it wasn’t because of what he remembered but rather what he didn’t. And that only made fear tighten his gut further.