Free Moon Shadows by Nora Roberts Page B

herself, a full body compress over the misery. He’d seen now. He knew now. He’d never be able to look at her the same way again, not with desire or affection. Certainly not with love.
    But if she hadn’t misjudged him completely, once he was over the shock and the horror, he might be able to help.
    She made herself get up. She could smell the wolf still. The scent of it clung to her skin long after her body was hers again, and the stink of it, even after so many years, turned her stomach.
    She would take a long, hot shower, scrub it away. Then eat and work. And wait. If he came back, she thought as sheunlocked the cage, what she’d done would be worth the cost. He wouldn’t love her, not the way she would always love him, but he would help her. The kindness in him would demand it.
    If she was wrong, if he didn’t come back, she’d relocate again. Maybe go to Canada this time. He might tell someone, of course, but no one would believe him. Still, it would be better all around if she moved away, settled somewhere else.
    She tugged on her jeans, then stopped with her fingers on the button of the fly as she stared at Amico’s dog bed.
    Amico sat on the wide cushion, watching her, waiting for her command. Beside the dog, Gabe was sprawled. Sleeping.
    She wasn’t disoriented now, she was simply dazed. Without thinking, she finished dressing, shut down the camera. She released Amico from his guard stance with a whispered command. Even as the dog stood, Gabe stirred.
    His eyes fluttered open. She wanted to stroke his cheek, his hair. His eyelashes. But she kept her hands at her sides as she crouched down.
    â€œYou stayed.”
    â€œHuh?” His eyes were bleary for a moment, but she watched them sharpen even as he rubbed his hands over his face, back through his tousled hair. “Yeah. Must’ve conked for a while. Who’d’ve thought it? I could use coffee.”
    â€œI’ll go up and make some.”
    â€œWhat time is it?”
    â€œEarly. Just after dawn.”
    He glanced at her wrist. She wore no watch. “How do you know?”
    â€œI always know.” She straightened, reminded herself to maintain some distance, for both their sakes. “I’ll put coffee on, then I need to shower. You’ll have questions. I’ll try to answer them.”
    â€œAll right.”
    She went up the stairs with the dog beside her. But she didn’t look back as she unlocked the door, or when she closed it behind her.
    Silly for her hands to shake now, she thought. After all she’d been through, all she’d endured, she would shake and tremble now? She spilled grounds on the counter as shemeasured them out and left them there. She’d clean them up later. All she had to do was make coffee—a simple, everyday task—then she could shower. She needed the heat, the soap, the cleansing.
    She needed time alone before she faced the pity and the condemnation she would see in his eyes.
    She heard him come in. “It won’t take long,” she said quickly. “Help yourself. If you’re hungry, I’ll—” She jerked back, stepped far back when he reached for her. “Don’t. Don’t touch me now. Its scent’s still on me.”
    Moving fast, she unlocked the back door, jerked it open to let the dog out. The air was full of mists and morning scents, and made her want to weep.
    â€œI’ll be down in a few minutes.” She had to force herself not to run.
    She started to strip when she reached her bedroom door, peeling off clothes, heaving them aside as she rushed into the bathroom. Her breath was snagging in her throat, tearing out in gasps when she turned the water on as hot as she thought she could bear.
    Yes, she wanted to weep, but couldn’t have said why. He’d stayed, and his compassion was more than she could ask. More than she could expect. So she only braced her hands against the tile when she