THE RIPENING (Dark Side of the Moon Book 1) Page 2

  She was one of a few with whom he could truly be himself.

  In accordance with his family’s wishes, he'd always kept his own. He'd never participated in physical fights and never let himself get too largely involved in any single situation in town. Anything that risked exposure had to be avoided at all costs. But while his parents and brothers chose to isolate themselves from the world in order to be protected from it, Luther would rather be a part of it. And it was through Yuna that he found that opportunity.

  She slept now.

  The moon was the tiniest sliver, shining through her window and illuminating her face where it lay on lavender-colored sheets. Fondly, he remembered how she'd been as a child. Curious, incessant, there had been several points when he'd come close to chasing her away, but now he was glad he hadn't. At the tender age of six, she'd worn glasses so thick they'd blinded him when he tried them on, and you could have fit the entirety of her willowy form into a medium-sized bucket.

  God, how she'd changed.

  Formerly unruly black ringlets had grown into soft, pliable curls that spilled over her sheets like silk. She still had the same tiny, stubborn, upturned nose and full, cherry-like mouth, but her eyes, large, green, and entrancing, had been saved by some miracle of science on her sixteenth birthday and were no longer hidden behind thick frames.

  She was no model, as she loved to remind him whenever she had the chance. Of course not. Almost comically skinny limbs had filled out into delightful curves. The work pants, flannel shirts and cotton nightgowns she wore could no more detract from her enticingly plump figure than could her insistence that she ate too much. Indeed, there were few sights that gave him more pleasure than her, up to her floury elbows in her latest kitchen confection or her stirring a pot of her delectable chicken stew. If he had his way, he'd destroy the leagues of DVDs and workout equipment she'd bought in an attempt to tame the luscious angles of her body.

  She was lovely just as she was. And therein lay the problem.

  Luther frowned down at the decadent little figure before him.

  Even asleep, unmoving, she tempted him to no end. He couldn't remember exactly when his innocent longing for her company had turned to something more carnal, but it had been long ago. Since the years of his late adolescence he'd sought the company of innumerable women, none of whose names he could remember, in an attempt to stifle his hunger for her.

  It hadn't worked. He still found himself reveling in her scent, longing for the sight of her, and dying to bury himself deep within her.

  He needed a way to tell her goodbye.

  Luther was entering his thirties. It was a time, in his family, when certain responsibilities had to be shouldered, when the future of their race had to be considered above all else. His father and mother were long been past their years of viable pups. After the death of his eldest brother Elias, and the discovery that his younger brother Liam was infertile, the weight of the line rested on his shoulders. Sometimes, he hated his plight.

  He hated the secrets, the lies, and the idea that he would never be able to do for himself all he wanted. Yes, his race lent one last iota of mystery to the rapidly developing world of man. It was true that the isles of the unknown and the last magics of the word were disappearing, trampled under technology and avarice; and, in many ways, he was very proud to be part of what lay beyond the surface of the modern world's monotony.

  But it meant that Yuna could never be his.

  As he was, it was his duty to find a willing female of their race to ensure their existence for as long as possible. It was what was expected of him - and it was what he should be able to do without question.

  But he couldn't help but wonder what his life could be like with Yuna. Was it possible that he could get away from the pressures of his clan and contemplate a normal life with normal children? That he wouldn't have to face the long years of teaching his family how to hide and how to survive? That he wouldn't live a half-life bottling another side of him that constantly threatened to escape? It was a temptation that beckoned - right at his fingertips.

  But Yuna didn't want him.

  At least, she wouldn't when she learned the truth. As it was, she shied away from his touch and grew nervous when they spent too much time alone together. Luther had learned over the years that some people, although they couldn't pinpoint the exact reason, could sense what he was and because of that sense, they were nervous around him. He didn't know if it was that reason that drove Yuna to shy away from him or if it was something else, but she'd changed in recent years. The carefree child he'd known had turned into a woman with secrets, and damn if he didn't want to discover them all.

  It was ridiculously hypocritical of him to want to know all of her when it was impossible for her to know all of him - but he could dream, couldn't he?

  At least, he could for the next few weeks.

  Luther had recently decided that after the next full moon, he wouldn't return to her. His reasons were both selfish and selfless. He didn't know how much longer he could face her knowing that he'd eventually have to leave her. Also, the closer she got to him, the more potentially dangerous things became for her.

  Though he'd always been very careful around the time of his change, he'd always feared an accident. What if she found him? What if he couldn't keep himself away? What if he harmed her? Really, it was only a matter of time. It was better, he argued with himself, to cleave himself from Yuna cleanly. Better for him and for her.

  Still...

  Crouching next to the bed, Luther extended a large hand to stroke a strand of hair from the young woman's pale forehead.

  Far from flinching from him as she would if she was awake, her slumbering form leaned into the caress and her lips curved into a smile that plucked at something soft within him.

  He had to leave her.

  Luther touched her cheek briefly, indulgently, before he stood, bound for his own bedroom, and uneasy sleep.

  **

  The next few weeks passed uneventfully. With Luther's help, Yuna managed to get more work done on the farm than she usually could in half a year, re-tiling the house, fitting the barn with a new door, and even getting the oldest and grumpiest cow to milk- if not easily. Any difficulties she might have had with the tasks she'd dreaded the most were now nonexistent.

  The hardest chore she had, it seemed, was getting Luther to talk to her.

  When he'd first returned, Yuna had thought that maybe something on his mind was keeping him wound up and as soon the thought passed, he'd relax. But as the days passed, it seemed that he only grew more and more withdrawn. He was still the kind, helpful, and polite Luther she'd always known, but he was quieter than he'd ever been before.

  She'd never seen him this way. It worried her to the point that she began to consider that the problem might lie with his family. Luther had always been very secretive about them and their reluctance to interact with the people in town, let alone with Yuna herself. The Douglases had always been, at best, grudgingly accepting of her relationship with their son. Among the few times she'd met them, she couldn't think of one where they had been warm or inviting. If indeed, the issue had to do with his family, it was the one subject she couldn't help him with, and that idea was close to agonizing.

  Bottling up her apprehension kept the young woman awake night after night. As the moon slowly swelled, she watched it with staring eyes as her mind searched frantically for other reasons why Luther might suddenly be slipping away from her. Had she done or said something to offend him?

  Not that she could remember.

  Perhaps he had a new girlfriend?

  No. Even in his current state, Luther was too polite not to introduce her.

  She hadn't cut her hair, or started wearing makeup, or done anything that might change the way he saw her.

  Not knowing was driving her slightly insane.

  On her fourth sleepless night, Yuna made herself rise from bed in search of a sleep-aid. After rifling through the refrigerator, she
instead decided that a nightcap might be a better option. After all, the Glenlivet in her father's cabinet hardly ever saw any use. A small nip couldn't hurt.

  Careful not to disturb Luther, she padded past the closed door to his room to creep into her father's study. Though he'd passed some years ago, she kept the room as clean as if she expected him to come back any day. After she shut the door behind her, Yuna slid into the large desk chair that still smelt of tobacco and cinnamon and pressed her face to the wooden desk, remembering.

  Every day for four hours a day her father had used to shut himself up in this room, making sure the farm was running smoothly and looking into new crop prospects. Though he'd been a man that had believed strongly in the old fashioned, he'd never been bull-headed when it came to innovation. He'd been tough, honest, and most of all, he had loved his family with all that he possessed.

  God, how long had it been since she'd really allowed herself to feel the pain of his loss?

  When the car crash had happened, she'd been too busy trying to get her own life in order and too desperate to save the farm to feel much more than numbness. By the time she'd finally allowed herself to cry, it had been long after the funeral. And here she was, years later, still unable to get rid of his things.

  Almost reverently, she stroked along the length of the mahogany wood beneath her head.

  So many memories...

  “So you can't sleep either?”

  Yuna jumped slightly at an unexpected voice from the corner of the room. When her head jerked up, the first thing her eyes lit upon was her father's bottle of well-aged Glenlivet. Though she'd barely touched it since his death, the bottle was half empty. On the small table beside it stood a brandy glass half full of ice. And standing before the window, in the pale light of the waxing gibbous, was Luther.

  He took her breath away.

  Clad in only a low slung pair of pajama pants, his chest and shoulders were gloriously bared to the moonlight. Where other men might be huge and bulky, Luther carried lean, carved muscle that spoke of his lithe strength. As he drank deeply from his glass, biceps and pectorals flexed mouth-wateringly. Yuna allowed her eyes to skim over his upper half before being drawn inexorably downward. The deep V of his pelvis disappeared beneath the hem of pants situated low on slim hips. Green eyes trekked further southward until she caught herself, tearing her gaze almost painfully away. It was all that she could do not to follow the trail of dusky auburn hairs that sprinkled his chest to where they ended.

  Instead, Yuna forced herself to focus on his face, a face that could have been carved from marble for all its rugged beauty. Deep brown-red hair, mussed from sleep, hung nearly to his shoulders, framing an expression that was all at once present and far away. Whether it was his own thoughts or the drink that had put that expression there, the young woman couldn't say for sure. Swallowing thickly, she managed to speak.

  “Luther....what are you doing up?”

  As if it wasn't obvious.

  “You know, when we were younger, I waited up for you every day. I used to sit on your front porch, bound and determined to be the first person you saw when you got back from practice. Your father had something to say about that though.”

  He seemed to be ignoring her question completely, instead beginning another line of conversation as he took a long draw from his glass. A single drop of whiskey escaped the corner of his mouth to trek leisurely over his chin and Yuna's stomach tightened.

  “Did he?” she replied with forced casualness. “He was usually holed up around that time.” For all she'd known, her father had been content in his office until she came home from school, at which point he would greet her with a huge bear hug and a warning for her and Luther not to eat everything her mother had in the fridge.

  “He brought me in here one day and sat me down. Right there.” He gestured to the handsome period chair across the desk from her in the middle of the office. “Poured me a little one of these, never mind that I was only seventeen.”

  Yuna could just imagine it. Her large, brawny father ushering in the tall and skinny Luther to fix him with an intimidating stare over his work. The image brought a slight smile to her face. “'Luther', he told me, 'I know my little girl is real fond of you. But if you ever hurt her, I'll blow your brains out.'” The sizable man took another long swig, a smile touching his mouth gently. “You know with that gigantic gun in the living room, I believed him, absolutely.”

  The story, along with Luther's long unseen smile, made the young woman grin. While Hal Thompson had always been on his best behavior in front of his daughter, she'd heard stories from her mother about his chasing young men off their farm in an attempt to protect Yuna's chastity. Standing, she came around the desk to lean against it, crossing slender arms comfortably over her chest. “You know he didn't mean it. Daddy knew that we were just friends.”

  “Mm.” Luther finally turned from the window to fix her with his intense, icy blue gaze. “He was a great father, Hal. He'd have protected you from anything.”

  Yuna laughed softly in an attempt to break the seriousness of the moment. “Well, I hardly needed protecting from you.”

  At her words, an odd light appeared in her companion's eyes before he drained the last of his drink. “Didn't you?”

  The clear depth of Luther's gaze was fixed upon her as he spoke. Butterflies erupted in the young woman's stomach and she swallowed thickly as she allowed herself to indulge in his attentions. He was clearly quite drunk, but the way that he was looking at her was almost worth it. It was an expression she more than recognized, as it often graced her own face in the dark when he couldn't see, an expression that stemmed from a deep-seated want that threatened trouble - or divine succor.

  Clearing her throat in sudden doubt, Yuna took a step back - smack into the desk behind her. Before she could correct herself, Luther had crossed the room with ungodly speed to stand a mere hairsbreadth away from her, so she could feel the heat of him.

  Almost immediately her face flushed. “Luther...” she tried, looking determinedly at the floor. “You know I'm not afraid of you.”

  “Then why don't you ever look at me?” A soft sound of surprise escaped the young woman as her companion tilted her head upward until she met his stare.

  And what an intense stare it was. It was as if Luther was looking beyond any exterior facades she might have put up and into the core of her- a core that currently raged with a dangerous mixture of intense desire and decidedly raw emotions. “I do look at you.” When she spoke, an unsteady voice betrayed her nervousness. “You know me better than that.”

  “But what do you really see?” he demanded lowly, his tone so sharp that she trembled. “I swear, every time you shy away from my touch or won't meet my eyes, it drives me mad. If you're not afraid of me, then what is it?”

  His firm grip on her chin prevented any escape she might have contemplated this time. As Yuna continued to stare into eyes that could very well undo her, her heart rate increased until she could hear the blood rushing in her ears. The spacious, moon-lit study was suddenly much too small, and her thin cotton nightgown more revealing than the most wispy of lingerie.

  “I'm going to kiss you now, Yuna. If you don't want it, you'd damn well better stop me.”

  She could have denied him, could have concocted some story or excuse, but Yuna found that at that moment, it was beyond her to hide from him any longer.

  His lips were firmer than she'd imagined. When they touched hers, they ignited a slow, steady burn within her. The subtle way they moved against hers demanded she respond in kind. Almost without thinking, she opened her mouth, and gasped as his dexterous tongue delved immediately inside. He tasted of whiskey, soap and moonlight - clear, musky and undeniably male. She didn't even realize her hands were curling into his shoulders until her fingers were buried in warm flesh.

  Effortlessly, he lifted her from the floor to sit on the desk as his mouth continued to plunder hers.

  Yuna had never kissed like this
. It was a kiss that threatened to give and to take everything she had with each sip that he took from her. It was a kiss that might never end. With a soft moan, she clung to him, nibbling and biting at the mouth that had haunted her dreams as she pressed herself against the firm lines of his body. Upon contact, her nipples hardened immediately through the diaphanous material of her nightgown and the haven at the crux of her legs began to warm at an alarming rate.

  “Yuna...” Luther was muttering against her mouth, for her ears only, “My sweet, sweet Yuna. Mine.” The possessiveness in his voice made her ache for it to be true.

  When he pulled her closer she could feel the effect she was having on him. If there had been any doubt in her mind that she was desirable to him, it was immediately assuaged. He was hard-pulsing so vividly that she could feel his heartbeat against her lower abdomen.

  Part of her was convinced that she was dreaming.

  She'd only ever kissed Luther in her dreams, and if this was indeed some slumbering fantasy, then she'd rather die than wake up.

  As his arms encircled her waist, she arched her body against him, refusing to allow a scant millimeter of space between them. This was what she had wanted for so long she couldn't remember not wanting it.

  “Yuna.” When he stopped kissing her for long enough to speak against her mouth she exhaled slowly, hoping against hope that he hadn't suddenly come to his senses. “There are things we should talk about... things that I need to tell you.”

  Though a slight prickling of awareness broke through the haze of arousal at his words, it wasn't enough for complete recovery. Biting her lip, she gazed up at him, wondering what on earth she should say, despite the fact that this moment had played hundreds of times in her mind. All she knew was that she was being presented with an opportunity that might not be so ripe in the wake of a half an hour of civilized conversation. After a few moments of indecision, she said the first coherent thing that came to mind.