Wolves' Bane (The Order of the Wolf, #3)(5)
As if to second that conviction, a wolf called, its eerie howl far too close for his liking. Just as he’d feared, at least one of the pack had broken away from the fight. He needed to get the Huntress to safety, and it would be easier to do if she was running on her own two legs.
He moved back, away from the forest and around one of the carnival trailers, sweeping his gaze over every potential hiding place. Once he was satisfied that nothing lurked in the shadows, he gripped her waist and made ready to lower her from his shoulder when the scraping sound of claws on gravel touched his ears. Cal froze and slowly turned, adjusting the Huntress’s weight in case he had to run again. Peering around the trailer, he caught sight of a lone wolf venturing into the carnival grounds and heading away from them. It was a momentary reprieve. It wouldn’t take the beast long to track his scent. He had no choice. It was time to fight.
Cal moved deeper into the shadows, traveling a few more steps down the length of the trailer before lowering the Huntress as gently as he could, more intent on unsheathing his sword than worrying about whether or not she got a few bruises. The second her body hit the ground, she began grunting and cursing, clearly desperate to get herself out of the cloak. Panic flared as he quickly glanced over his shoulder, half expecting the beast to beeline right for them with all the noise she was making. With a rough curse of his own, Caleb placed his sword on the ground next to him and struggled to release her from the folds of the cloth, cursing even more when he became tangled in her frenzy to be free.
“Will you stay still?” he barked, his frustration growing. “I’m trying to get you out of there.”
Thankfully, she stopped struggling and after a few minutes of tugging, he finally found where the cloth was knotted and yanked it down, the quick movement working to release the rest of it from her head.
She opened her lips as if to scream, so he quickly laid his hand over her mouth. Her eyes flared open with shock. He whispered in her ear for silence.
“There is another beast tracking us. You must remain hidden in the cloak until it passes. No matter what you hear or what you think you hear, you must wear the cloak. If you take it off, you will die. Understand?”
With eyes still wide, she nodded slowly. He motioned with his free hand for her to be silent, then slowly removed the hand that covered her mouth. He repositioned the cloak so that it draped naturally from her shoulders, his fingers grazing the flesh above her breasts as he clasped it closed and raised the hood to cover her head.
Just that mere contact had his body responding to the point of distraction. He was hard for her already, wanting more than just a mistaken touch. My Huntress. He held her waist as he lifted her to stand, his hands molding to her flesh so perfectly that he ached to crush her against him, to feel her yielding, soft curves against his body. But this was not the time for fantasy and lust, even if he craved her beyond anything he could ever prepare for, just as the Oracle said he would.
“Now stay here. I’ll return shortly.”
“Wait!” she hissed, her eyes blazing.
Cal turned to face her, doing little to mask his impatience. “What?”
“Who are you?” She didn’t sound scared. In fact, by the look in her eyes, he had a feeling that there was more to her question than he could guess.
“My name is Caleb, your Hunter.”
With a gasp, her eyes wide open once again, she moved toward him, her hand raised as if to stroke his cheek. Cal moved forward, compelled by her action, his body wanting her touch like fire wanted air. Was it possible that she felt the same irresistible pull to him? As the backs of her fingers lightly brushed his jaw, she leaned forward until her lips were inches from his. Okay, maybe one kiss—he could afford at least one indulgence.
Her eyes blazed once again. “As if, *! Screw you!”
With a swift and well-placed knee thrust, Cal was rocked with such vivid pain that he dropped to the ground in a writhing mess, the dual sensation of wanting to vomit and shit himself slamming him with brutal intensity. But even as wave upon wave of nauseating pain rolled through him, he struggled to stand, biting back his moans, not wanting to attract the attention of the beast, as Cal searched the darkness for her. It was amazing how powerful getting kicked in the sac was, especially when in a state of arousal. Fucking hell. The Oracle had warned him this wouldn’t be an easy mission. No shit. He’d never hear the end of it from his men.
As the initial shocking pain slowly faded to a throbbing beat, he released his protective grip on his balls and pulled his cell phone from his back pocket, swallowing the saliva that pooled in his mouth and the bile that lodged in his throat.
He flipped open his phone and punched the speed dial, furious with himself for being so damn stupid. Your Hunter. What the f*ck possessed him to utter those words he couldn’t say. This Huntress was different. Just as the Oracle had warned, she’d grown up outside of the Order and away from the rich cultural upbringing that would have prepared her for such a night. She wouldn’t know what a Hunter was other than in the simplest definition of the word, and to someone who thought they were human, a hunter could be a very scary thing. Cal cursed his thoughtless comment, knowing that his brain had been so distracted by his body’s needs that he hadn’t been thinking straight.
“You lost her, didn’t you?” The cocky voice of his second in command, Lance, pulled him from his thoughts.
“She’s running east.”