She had no idea that she was experiencing the calm before the storm.
THIRTY-TWO
When she got home that night, Roarn was pacing and looking upset.
“Oh, honey, what is it? Are you okay?” Christine went to him at once and reached for him.
The big Monstrum stopped pacing and leaned down to enfold her in his arms. He pressed his face to her hair and inhaled deeply several times, as though he was reassuring himself that she was really there.
“What is it, Roarn?” she asked gently, rubbing his broad back. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing is…wrong…exactly.” He pulled back from her and looked down into her eyes. “I was chopping…more wood…today. And I found…the trail.”
“The trail?” Christine shook her head, confused. “The trail to where? I don’t understand.”
“The scent trail,” Roarn told her. “The one that…leads back to…the ship I crashed in.”
“Oh—you mean the trail of the other Kindred who came looking for you?” Christine looked at him cautiously. “Did you follow it?”
“No.” He shook his head. “But I…want to. I…need to find…the ship.”
“Why do you feel like you need to find it?” Christine asked him. “Did you leave something on it?”
He shook his head. Taking a step back from her, he began to pace back and forth in her small living room. Christine thought he had never looked more like a caged tiger.
“If I can find it…I can…smell it,” he told her. “Then maybe I can…find out…why it…crashed.”
Christine frowned.
“But…why do you need to know that?”
“Because!” He blew out a frustrated breath and ran a hand through his long, black hair. “Maybe I can…find out…if I made it…crash.”
“If you made it crash? How could you do that? You weren’t flying it,” Christine pointed out.
“I know but…what if I…got free of my restraints?” He gave her an anguished look. “What if I…attacked the…pilot?”
“Oh…” Christine began to see what he was getting at, but she still didn’t like the idea of him going off alone, searching the side of the mountain for the crashed Kindred ship.
“I’m sure they will have cleared it away by now,” she said. “There’s probably nothing left to see.”
“Plenty left…to smell, though,” Roarn told her. The look in his golden-green eyes was grim. “I will still…be able to…tell. If our scents are…overlapping. If there is…blood…”
“Those other Kindred didn’t say that anyone attacked the pilot—they just said the ship crashed,” Christine objected. But she could see she was fighting a losing battle. Roarn had a desperate look on his face.
“I need…to know,” he told her. “Need to know if…I am responsible…for his death. They said I…mauled my guards. What if I…actually…killed one… as well?”
“But you weren’t in your right mind,” Christine reminded him. “And besides, what if smelling the crash site makes the Fury come back? What if you…if you lose yourself?”
She didn’t like to say, “what if you lose your mind and never come back and I never see you again?” but it was exactly what she was thinking—what she was fearing.
Roarn shook his head.
“I will…always come back to you…Chris-teen,” he rumbled. “Even if…I was deep in Fury…I would still recognize…your sweet scent.”
Christine hoped he was right, but she wasn’t sure. What she was sure about though, was that the big Monstrum was determined to go.
“Do you want me to try and drive you there?” she asked, her heart sinking.
He shook his head.
“Must go…on foot. Otherwise I will…lose the scent.”
“All right,” Christine said unhappily. “When do you need to go?”
“Soon—before the trail…fades any…more,” Roarn told her.
“All right, but not tonight,” Christine begged softly. “Stay with me tonight, Roarn. Hold me, please?” Reaching up, she cupped his face in her hands and looked into his wild eyes. “You know it’s Friday—exactly two weeks since I first found you caught in that trap,” she told him softly. “It’s kind of our two-week anniversary. I mean, I know it’s silly to think like that and I promise I’m not trying to tie you down but, well…I’ve been happier these past two weeks than I have since…since I don’t know when.”
“Chris…teen.” He pulled her close suddenly and crushed her to him, hugging her with a desperation and need that were almost palpable. “I am…happy with you…too,” he rumbled, rubbing his soft cheek against hers. “I don’t…want to leave you. But I must…know.”
“I understand.” She stroked her fingers through his long hair. “You gotta do what you gotta do. Just wait until morning to do it.”
“I will…wait.” He pulled back and looked down into her eyes. “Chris-teen, please. I need…to scent you. Need…to taste you.”
“Of course you do, honey.” She took him by the hand. “Come on, let’s go into the bedroom…”
That night there was a desperation in their love-making that she had never felt before. Roarn stayed for hours between her thighs, licking and kissing and nuzzling and scenting. It was as though he was trying to burn her scent into his brain—as though he was trying to store it up, to help keep him sane even under duress, Christine thought.