Chapter Eight

Glenna watched Lana and the Jeep drive down the dirt road and out of sight into the trees. The sound of the engine died out. A breeze shushed through the pines. Insects buzzed and birds chirped, but there were no sounds of people. No cars rushing by or cell phones ringing. The isolation of the cabin, the sheer ignorance of her situation, permeated her nerves. She was all alone here, no city bustle, no job demands, no family.

“For God’s sake, take a bite.”

She’d forgotten Sam. Somehow the thought that she really wasn’t alone wasn’t reassuring.

She glanced down at her plate and the tempting lasagna, and her mouth watered. She shouldn’t. She had that dress to fit into and she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d eaten pasta. But it smelled so good, and she hadn’t smelled anything this good in too long.

She couldn’t eat it. Didn’t dare. One bite and she’d never stop.

Sam dropped down into the seat next to her. His large warm hand closed over hers and a tremor shot up her arm. The look in his deep, serious eyes held her prisoner as he sank her fork deep into the pasta and maneuvered its burden of temptation to her lips.

It hovered, just in front of her lips and nose, her stomach snarling at the aroma.

Her mouth opened.

He slid the fork in.

Warm, soft, tomatoey, all the mouth-watering flavors burst on her tongue. She shut her eyes and chewed in ecstasy.

Slow, luxurious bites of sin.

She opened her eyes. Sam’s dilated pupils right in front of her face should have been threatening, but instead her breath quickened in response.

“Christ, take another bite.” He leaned forward on his chair, tense palms splayed on his thighs.

Glenna knew she shouldn’t be doing any of this. Shouldn’t be eating the amazing rich pasta, shouldn’t be teasing the dangerous stranger. But both of them made her feel aware and alive. Just this once she’d be the one playing with fire.

She slowly cut into the pasta and raised another heavenly scented bite to her lips. His eyes tracked the fork on its journey to her mouth where she stopped and let it hover. Opening her lips, she pursed them to blow air on the lasagna.

His hand came up, but she leaned back and slid the fork home. She chewed. Savored the flavors, the textures, and the hot expression of appreciation on Sam’s face as she swallowed another bite of what she shouldn’t have. And then another. And another.

“Do you always eat like this?” His voice was hoarse.

“It’s been a while.”

“There’s more lasagna.”

Glenna looked at her plate and she squeezed the fork tight, horror twisting in her gut. She’d eaten the entire piece.

Sam was close, too close. She breathed in his scent of warmth and soap and spice and thought of eating dessert.

“No, no thanks. I’m done.” She relinquished the fork with a clatter on the plate and lay back in the lounger. “That was way more than I should have eaten.”

“I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed.” Sam leaned back in his own chair, stretched out his long legs and crossed his booted feet at the ankles and grinned. “I think I need a beer.”

Mortification mixed with a panicky guilt washed heat up Glenna’s neck.

She straightened up on the lounger. This wasn’t right, it wasn’t her. She never lost control like this. Eating so much food. And devouring it like it was a sensual feast just so she could watch a man’s eyes heat. This wasn’t her.

“Lana said you’d talk to me,” she said, determined to change the subject.

“I’ll try.” Sam’s position stayed casual on the lounger, but his steepled fingers tensed. “What do you want to know?”

“This isn’t a hospital. Where are we?”

“This is Lana’s clinic. We brought you here because it wasn’t safe for you in the hospital.” He cracked his knuckles in a way her grandmother would have called vulgar. “You don’t remember anything? Do you remember being sick?”

“No. I remember waking up here, yesterday.” She wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Before that I was in the garage, below my apartment.” On the way to her engagement party.

“You’ve been sick a long time.”

“I’m a little unsure how long.” She smiled her how-to-get-flies-with-honey smile and asked, “Do you know exactly how many days it’s been?” Lana had said two weeks, but she didn’t completely trust the cagey doctor.

“Close to two weeks.”

The lasagna shifted in her overfull stomach and Glenna swallowed hard to keep it down. Two weeks. They’d kept her here two weeks. There was no way her grandmother had done this—she’d never have let Glenna miss the engagement party.

He’d delivered the information as if they were discussing the perfectly blue sky, or the view of the snow on the back range, but it rocked Glenna’s world.

Only years of hard-earned lessons let her keep her face schooled. She took a sip of water to cover her panic. Two weeks. Her family must be looking for her. Grandmother and Roger would be worried. And Sarah. Sarah would be frantic.

“Oh, I really wasn’t sure. Thanks.” Another sip of water, eyes down to keep her secrets.

She needed to call her family, but would he let her? Lana and Ellen had avoided all her questions, all her requests for information and a phone. “Well, I’m better now. I need to get back to real life. Do you have a phone I could use?”

Something flickered across his eyes.

“Sorry, we’re on limited phone use here. Only emergencies.” He smiled again, stood up. “I’m going to grab another soda.”

“Well, if you can’t let me use the phone, can you at least tell me when was the last time my grandmother called?”

Had his shoulders tensed?

“I don’t think she has called. You should ask Lana or Ellen.”

“I have, but they think I’m still too sick. I’m much better today though. Lana even said it was time I went home.” Lana had said no such thing. Lana had completely ducked the subject, but he might not know that.

“Look, I know what you’re trying to do and it won’t work.” His eyes, that had been full of heat moments before, now were the eyes of a stranger. “Lana didn’t say you’d be going home. If I’m reading you right, Lana hasn’t said much of anything at all.”

Glenna didn’t say anything. Sometimes you got more information when you stayed quiet.

“You can’t go home, Glenna.” Sam’s face hardened. “Ever.”

Her belly cramped and from deep inside a wail pushed to get out. She had to get home. Sarah needed her.

Striving to keep her voice level she asked, “Who are you people and why won’t you let me go home? I have a life, friends, a job. I even have a fiancé, for Christ’s sake!”

He stood, a strange compassion on his face.

“Please, won’t you help me go home?” Her voice broke, cracking on the word ‘home’.

“I can’t.” He ran a hand over his scalp through his sexy, rock star hair. “I understand your confusion.” His long, caged strides paced the deck. “Damn Lana for not telling you anything!”

“So tell me, why are you keeping me prisoner?”

He stopped and stared at her from across the broad deck.

She waited. She knew how to wait.

“You’re not a prisoner. We rescued you.” Sam shook his head and crossed back over the deck to her side. Grabbing a chair he flipped it backwards and straddled it. “We’re keeping you here for your own safety.”

“I know propaganda when I hear it. Why would I need rescuing, or protecting?”

“Shit! Don’t you remember anything? Serena should have...never mind.” He rubbed his face. “Don’t you remember anything?”

“No. I remember getting ready for my engagement party...then I remember waking up yesterday, here.”

His gaze shifted away from hers. “You were attacked. And you were hurt, badly. You had internal injuries and needed surgery. That’s one reason why you feel like crap. It’s been a few weeks, but your body is still healing. And there’s another reason.” He shifted his position on the chair before speaking, his eyes pinning her in place. “You were infected with lycanthroism.”

Glenna’s head spun. Her food threatened to push up through her aching chest. She shook her head, denying his outrageous statement with both her body and her words.

“The werewolf disease?” She shook her head again. “There’s no way I have that or I would still be in quarantine.”

He sat there staring at her. Like he was waiting for her to hear the other shoe.

Like she was the crazy one.

The sun had dropped and now hovered over the tops of the western peaks. The temperature had dropped too, and a chilly breeze lifted the tiny hairs on her arms. She shivered.

“Is that what this is? Quarantine? Is that why no one has visited me?” She missed home, her bed, her sister. She even missed Roger’s irritating habits and her control-freak grandmother. “When can I see my family?” She swallowed. “Can I see them?”

“No. You can’t.” His voice was implacable, his eyes shuttered.

The lump in her throat grew, pressure built behind her eyes.

She blinked rapidly. She didn’t cry. Ever. Not since she was ten years old.

“When does it start? When do I...when do I get really sick?” She swallowed. “How long until I go crazy, how long until I die?”

Sam’s lips quivered. His eyes twitched. He barked a laugh.

Then he sat up, laughter exploding out of him in huge howls. He gasped and choked and wheezed until she wanted to take a fist to his back and pound some sense into him.

Glenna’s fists clenched. “This isn’t funny!” He looked like he was never going to stop. “Lycanthroism is a serious illness,” she said. “People get very sick. They die!”

When he finally settled down he wiped the tears from his grinning cheeks. “Thanks, I didn’t know how much I needed that. The last few weeks have sucked and that really helped.”

“Good for you,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Glad I could help.”

“It’s just that you sounded so serious. Like you’ve swallowed the whole government lie, hook, line, and sinker.”

“Maybe you can enlighten me.”

“First off, you’re not contagious. It doesn’t work like that. If you were, don’t you think we’d all be here without masks and crap?” He opened his mouth to keep going but, his phone sang out a jazz riff. He pulled it out. “I have to do a perimeter check. Hey, I know you want answers, but you look beat and I need to do the rounds. Why don’t you go inside and get some rest. I’ll be back in a little while.”

She wanted to argue. Wanted to pump him for more information but it was as if at his words her body decided she was done, exhausted from the unaccustomed stress of being out of bed, being outside, being with him.

“Fine. But when you get back I want an explanation.”

“I’ll answer your questions. After you get some sleep. Right now you look like a stiff wind would blow you apart.”

“You know, I am tired, but the sun feels great,” she lied and stretched her arms wide. Yawned. She didn’t want to end up back downstairs again. It had taken her too long to get up here. “Do you mind if I just rest here on the deck until you get back? You won’t be far away, will you?”

“Worried about me, sugar?” His eyes gleamed.

She flushed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He laughed. “No, I won’t be far. There’s a path that runs along the side of the road, I’ll take a quick peek into the woods on both sides, then I’ll do the path. Ten minutes, fifteen tops. You just sit here and I’ll be back before you know it.” He gave her a wink.

She crossed her arms and averted her face, not watching him saunter down the steps until he’d gone a good fifty feet towards the woods. Then she settled back down on the lounger and watched from under half-opened lids until he was hidden in the woods. Worried about him, sure, she was worried. But not because she’d miss him.

She was going to do something she was sure was against the rules and she only had a few minutes to do it. She was going to search the house and see if she could call for help. Or find some keys and take one of those cars sitting down below the house. And she damned well didn’t want any eagle-eyed body guard catching her or Lord knew what the penalty would be.