Beauty's Beast(21)

It was. Suddenly Alon’s mind was not full of the threat of ghosts but the threat of seeing Samantha naked in that hot, pulsing water.

He invited her to use the Jacuzzi before bed. She hesitated, glancing toward him in silence. Did she think he meant to use this as some opportunity to seduce her?

The notion sent a hot, tingling wave of desire. It was what he wanted to do. But he couldn’t. There were so many reasons why he couldn’t. Not the least of which was his conviction never to bring another of his kind to this world. They didn’t belong here, and he would not bring one more unwanted Halfling into this joyless existence.

But oh, how he wanted Samantha.

Her look was inscrutable. Did she want him to make some advance, or did she hesitate out of fear he might do so.

He recalled her drawing away from him in the truck and felt he had the answer. But she had slept on his lap like a beloved pet.

How could he even dream that someone as lovely, powerful and necessary as this Seer of Souls could ever want a misshapen monstrosity such as him?

She couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Didn’t.

“I need to scout for any threat. I’ll be gone at least an hour.”

The urge to touch her gripped him. He told himself to step away and found himself stepping closer.

“I want to kiss you,” he said.

He’d given her fair warning. Why didn’t she run away or tell him no? And then he saw it, the slight turning of her head. Oh no, he thought, and ceased his advance.

But she wasn’t shaking her head, he realized. She was gazing up as if there were something between them, something he could not see. Their auras again? he wondered. Did they beat between them with the urgent desire that grew like a living thing? He wished he could see them.

Finally her gaze met his and she took a step forward, looping her arms about his neck.

He thought of the day they met. How his need for her had brought on the change, bringing forth that feral monster locked inside him. What if he changed again?

He could feel her heat, sense the opening of the tiny capillaries in her skin. Her scent filled the air. He breathed in her fragrance, summer flowers mixed with Samantha’s rising arousal.

He did this to her. A terrible realization hit. It wasn’t really him. It was this last form, this mask that drew her. He was the orchid luring the moth, fooling it into seeing a kindred species instead of the lie.

She pressed her body to his and suddenly he was lost. Lost in her scent. Lost in his need. Lost in the glittering desire of her dark eyes.

He rubbed his muscular chest against the soft cushion of her breasts. She sucked in a breath, closing her eyes as her head dropped back, exposing her neck to him. Need now beat within him, pulsing with his heart. He didn’t care if he deceived her, if only she would let him hold her a moment longer.

Her sweet breath fanned hot across his cheek as he leaned in to take what she offered.

He dipped his head. She turned away and he captured her earlobe between his teeth, sucking the soft, sensitive nub of flesh, and was rewarded by the sound of her satisfaction rumbling deep in her throat.

His tongue traced the shell of her ear and then darted inside. She arched against him and he slid his hand beneath the hem of her shirt and jacket, sliding upward over her taut skin, feeling the changing contours of her back and torso until his fingers splayed over the mound of one of her breasts. He rolled his palm in a circular motion, bringing a moan of pleasure from her throat. At his touch, her nipples tightened and she leaned forward, pressing one soft breast more firmly into his palm.

Samantha lifted her free hand, threaded her fingers through his hair and tugged. Soft little pants urged him on, and he walked her backward until she reached the hot tub, covered now with a soft, padded top. The odor of chlorine rose to greet them as he stretched her out on that cushion. His mouth found hers. Her lips parted as she gave him access. Her hot tongue darted against his. He growled as he forced one knee between her thighs, nudging her legs apart, making room for himself.

And then her clothing was gone. Alon paused in astonishment. She had removed every barrier that separated them. He wanted to howl in triumph, tear his own clothing to ribbons and thrust inside her. Bury himself deep.

He fumbled with the fastening of his trousers, freeing himself from the confinement. Samantha’s hand encircled him, her cool fingers dancing over his engorged flesh. The flames of need consumed him.

He pressed forward, sliding his erection along the wet folds of her cleft. Just another moment and she would be his.

She was ready and willing to accept him. Because she didn’t remember what he was.

He drew back, positioning himself to take her. But he wanted to see her expression, look into her eyes when he thrust home. Alon lifted his head and gazed down at Samantha’s lovely face.

Her skin shown pale as starlight and she blinked up at him in a daze, drunk from the passion they shared. She writhed her hips beneath him, eager for what they would share, and he could see clearly for one moment that she had also lost her mind.

Whatever this was between them was strong enough to make him forget everything he ever wanted or ever believed. Strong enough to make Samantha surrender herself to the likes of him. Strong enough to kill them both.

She lay naked and vulnerable, eager for the death he would bring.

It was enough to snap him to his senses. He drew away. She clung. He pulled her arms away from his neck and staggered back, drawing up his trousers. She propped herself up on both elbows.

“Alon?” The note of concern hit him hard. He didn’t mean to hurt her pride, but taking her might hurt her in other ways.

She was breathing in short little pants. Her brow knit and he saw the shame first. A moment later the realization struck. She covered her mouth with one hand and her breasts with the other.

“I’m sorry,” he said. He’d never keep her. Not when just one night together might be enough to tear her from him forever.

A cold panic washed down his body.

No female was strong enough to bring his kind into this world. He had wanted her to feel only pleasure. Instead he had nearly brought her death.

Samantha was like a gemstone, sparkling with hope and promise. He couldn’t resist bringing her into his dark world. But she didn’t belong with him. No one did.

He hated his weakness for her. Hated what he was. Hated his father for what he did to his mother.

“Alon, please.” Her gentle touch spoke of yearning. He could almost feel the pulse of her desire. She made it so difficult to stop himself.

“No, Samantha. No. Never. We can’t.” And then he told her. He spoke of his greatest shame. Of how his kind was born, in blood and death. All their mothers dead. All. The pain and the guilt tore through him like a knife blade, and the words poured from him like seawater from a drowning man.

Samantha stared in horror.

“It’s why I never took a woman. Never will take one. I couldn’t bear it. You have to remember my words.”

“But they were human, your mothers. I’m not human.”

“It will make no difference.”

“How do you know?”

He raised his voice. “I won’t gamble with your life.” She reached for him and he drew back. She wasn’t thinking and neither was he. To protect her, he needed to go.

She stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes. So tempted. His control frayed.

Alon shifted so quickly some of his clothing tangled with his swirling form, flying out and away before falling back to earth. He needed to get as far from her as possible for his sake as well as hers.

* * *

Samantha lay on her back on the padded hot tub cover bereft of his wonderful heat as the overwhelming need beat insistently in her. She was so crazed by need that she tried to follow him. It was not until she discovered herself standing in the dewy grass, naked and alone, that her blood cooled enough for her to recognize what she had almost done.

She staggered and then dropped to one knee to keep from falling. It seemed the earth heaved beneath her and she clung, digging both hands into the soft tufts of grass to anchor herself.

Was he right?

She was a Skinwalker and a damned strong one. And she was a powerful healer. Was it arrogance to think that what befell his mother would not happen to her, or was it the need speaking?

Samantha toppled, falling to the grass, squeezing her eyes shut as her mind and body battled. Her desire roared, pulsed, demanded. Her thoughts raced, stumbled and swayed.

Hadn’t she seen their auras leap and dance, rising like twin flares against the night sky? Even Alon had seen them. And she knew that her parents’ auras danced in that same way. She also knew what this might mean.

Soul mates.

No. That was not possible. Alon was a Toe Tagger, the child of her enemy. What would her family say if she were to bring home a Ghost Child?

She wrapped her arms about her knees and stifled a sob. She didn’t want to bring him home. She only wanted to sleep with him. Just to feel him inside her. That might douse this unmanageable need. If it was just some lust that roared between them then a single coupling might satisfy their desires. Why wouldn’t he take her—just once?