The Dark Need Read Online Free PDF Page B

minute in the water might have killed them both. Or if there had been no coat. But they were alive. Both alive.
    Her body was warm against his, and though he was drowsy, she felt good against him. Soft. Like being in that moment between sleep and waking, half in a good dream of a good woman and half out of it. He tried to think of how long it had been since he’d rested with a woman in his arms, or been so near another human being. However warm his heart beat, he was alone like any ghost: divided from other men by the evil he could see and they couldn’t, and by the hard blade of his ax, the things he had to do to save lives.
    Alone.
    He held her very close. Her hair had a scent he couldn’t identify. But his mind was waking, too. Who was she? And what was her connection to Richard Oslo? And could he trust her?
    Dark. Her words came back to him.
They all have a secret. Something dark inside them.
    But then, everyone had secrets. He certainly did.
    She stirred against him, and Matt was suddenly acutely aware of the softness of her body, no longer cold but warm, though she still shivered a little. And soft. So soft. Her breathing changed, and he knew she was awake. He just held her beneath the old coat, smelling horse and straw and her. For a while she was silent, her body just breathing, with his. Then she turned slightly in his arms, her lips soft on his throat.
    Matt drew in a breath. It felt… good. She felt good. Smelled good.
    And,
he thought,
she tried to cut my throat.
    Her tongue was small and moist against his skin.
    “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Matt murmured.
    “Shut up, Samaritan,” she whispered. “Make us warm.” Her hips moved gently against his.
    To his surprise, he found that he’d lifted himself up on one elbow and had started kissing her below her ear. “You haven’t told me your name,” he said quietly.
    She made a soft sound that was neither a name nor a protest. Took his hand and placed it on her breast. A hitch in her breathing. Then she whispered, “Adette.” A shiver that had nothing to do with the cold. “Bernadette, but I like Adette better.”
    He held her breast warmly in his hand, looked in her face a moment. Struck by the vulnerability in her eyes. Realized he knew her name now but still did not know who she was, what terrified her, what enraged her, what made her happy, or what made her grieve. Her small hands found him and he gasped. She squeezed him warmly, drew him to where she was soft and wet. He stopped worrying about her, about the killer, about Mr. Dark and this winter lake. He just moved in her and with her. Their breathing and the movements of their bodies together became a soft song in the dark, something no cold and no stranger could kill. She gripped him,and he took her shoulders and pressed her into the rolling of his hips. Her soft gasps became moans, then cries that filled the barn. When he lowered her onto her back beneath him, his heart seemed to pound the words,
We are alive, we are alive, we are alive.

7
    2 hours after midnight
    Matt stirred, gave a start, shocked to find he’d fallen asleep. Dangerous, after that swim. Then he felt the softness of Adette’s body in his arms, her ass snuggled into his hips, her hair against his chin, and he smiled. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t asked for it. But he’d enjoyed it. She had given herself wildly, desperately. He wondered again who she was, and whether it had been a long time for her, how consumed she had been with this hunt, and why.
    He touched his lips softly to her shoulder.
    And froze.
    For several beats of his heart, he held very still.
    Something wasn’t right.
    His nostrils flared. The scent of decay.
    But so faint.
    He stiffened, every sense alert. Wondering if the killer was near, if perhaps he had watched Matt carry Adette to the barn. He listened but heard nothing. Not even wind.
    Yet the scent of rot was close, and—
    His body went cold. He realized he was gazing at a small spot