Beauty's Beast(4)

His eyes twinkled now, the menace vanishing as he seemed to transform again into someone she could trust. He moved closer and she held her ground. Something about the way he looked at her now seemed so reassuring, but she held on to her distrust.

He reached, offering his open hand. She stared, wanting to take it. She had to struggle not to. What power was this? She tucked her hands behind her, pressing them to the rough bark, preparing to push off and run if need be.

“Go on,” he urged, tempting her with the rich timbre of his deep voice.

She did. Her hand slid over his, palms pressing one to the other. His skin was cool. An instant later a flash of energy surged from the point of contact, lifted the tiny hairs on her forearm and caused her skin to tingle. His eyes locked on hers, and she saw the first glimmer of uncertainty there. Was he as surprised as she?

Her mouth dropped open in a little O as a buzzing started in her ears as the unfamiliar energy lifted the hairs on her neck before it cascaded down her spine. She shivered.

He frowned and tightened the grip on her hand. “Cold?”

She shook her head. Afraid, delighted, anxious as a polar bear stranded on an ice drift.

He tugged, exerting a slow, insistent pressure that she was strong enough to resist, but somehow did not wish to. He lifted his opposite hand and crooked one finger, using his knuckle to stroke her cheek. Her body hummed in response, her skin flushing in a way she had not experienced but instantly recognized as sexual.

His index finger then settled beneath her jaw, lifting her chin until she gazed up into those mesmerizing eyes. Her heartbeat drummed in her ears.

“So if the Great Birds did not send you to me, then who?”

His sweet breath fanned her face, and she drew in the fragrance of him.

He moved no closer. The beating of sexual desire was so strong that it almost drowned out the buzz of danger. But not quite. She heard it, felt it and shook off the dreamy lethargy.

Samantha pressed both hands against his chest to hold him back. He paused and gave her a quizzical look.

“How do you know what I am?” she asked.

His half smile showed a lazy quality. Her mouth dropped open to stare as her heart continued to slam into her ribs like a handball batted against a cement wall.

“Do you know how animals can sense earthquakes?”

She had that same ability herself. She nodded.

“And how sharks can sense the vibrations of an injured fish from miles away?”

She nodded again.

“And how a spider knows the instant a fly lands in his web?”

She did not like the way this conversation was going at all, and fear now gripped her middle in a fist so tight she could scarcely breathe.

“I can sense you, little shifter, feel you with every pore and every tiny hair on my skin. I can feel the emotions pouring through you like floodwater and I can feel the worth of your soul, because that is what I do.”

What the hell was he?

Samantha struggled for clarity against the honeyed breath and entrancing gaze. The stranger’s hold was light at first, but then turned possessive. When he tried to draw her body to his, the desire fled and survival instinct engaged. What was she doing?

He pulled and she pushed with all her might. It was a thrust that would have sent a human airborne. Yet he only stumbled a few steps before recovering his balance. He stared, his head cocked to the side, assessing her. Instead of anger or menace, she saw only confusion followed immediately by the quirking of an eyebrow as if she intrigued him.

“Strong, very strong for one so small.”

There was that word again. Small.

“Why are you here, pretty one?”

Ironic for him to call her pretty, for his appearance was so striking as to make even the most attractive man she had ever laid eyes on pale in comparison.

“I’m looking for Bess Suncatcher.”

Both brows shot up. “How do you know my mother?”

His mother?

A child of the raven would be an ally, wouldn’t he? She wasn’t sure.

“Mother?”

He nodded.

She inhaled again, but his scent held no trace of any animal shifter she had ever encountered. She sensed so much danger here it hindered her thinking. The Skinwalker inside her urged her to run, taking charge as her thinking brain struggled to maintain control.

Was he a Skinwalker raven then? But he wasn’t. She could tell from his scent, and he lacked the brown aura. So how then could he be born of a Skinwalker?

She won’t be safe there. If you see a Toe Tagger, kill it before it kills you.

She glanced about for any sign of the horrible monsters that her father said lived in this place.

“She did not mention you.”

And then it came to her. Bess was married to a Niyanoka. Was this Cesar’s son? A chill rippled through her. Soul Whisperers spoke to the dead. They were dangerous and avoided even by their own kind. Samantha took another step back.

“My father sent me.”

“His name?”

She hesitated, not wanting to give a potential enemy any information that could help him. But if he was whom he said, he would learn this soon enough. Should she trust him? She didn’t trust easily and rarely outside the family. She had trusted Nôdi, the chief of the Dogrib fishing camp, and look what had happened as a result.

Her upbringing had made her paranoid, but it had not given her the skills necessary to tell truth from lies. She wished she were a Truth Seeker. Those Niyanoka could always tell if someone was lying. Her entire life had been about lies and running and hiding. She was sick of it.

Alon waited for her answer with a stillness that unnerved her. Samantha drew a deep breath, as if preparing to bungee jump from a bridge.

“Sebastian. That’s his name.” Now she waited. First Alon’s eyebrows lifted to still greater heights and then his mouth tipped down as he nodded.

“I can bring you to our home. But unfortunately my parents are not here.” He motioned to his right.

“What? Wait. My father asked them to bring me to Bess.”

“And she is not here. Only I am here.”

“But...why...” Her words fell off.

“As you said, the Thunderbirds don’t make mistakes. So it must be that you are meant to be here with me. Ill-conceived choice, I fear.”

“Can you contact her?”

“Not at present.”

She didn’t know what to do now. She couldn’t go back.

“I can offer you the hospitality of our home, but we best get there before dark.”

That snapped her from her musing. Why before dark?

Alon started off, and Samantha had to stretch her legs to keep pace while trying to keep from staring at him as he moved with such perfection. “So you are the firstborn of the first two Halfling races, a Seer of Souls and a great bear. Is that correct?”

It was a detail Samantha never spoke of, a secret that could bring death to her family. Just the mention of the word Seer caused her to stumble. He caught her before she fell, swinging her ahead of him as he captured both her upper arms.

Again that awareness tingled from the point of contact.

This man knew her most dangerous secret, yet she knew nothing of him but his name.

“I am the second born. My brother is first by several minutes,” she whispered. “They told you?”

“My parents trust me. Where is your twin?”

Again she equivocated. “He was sent to a friend of my father’s.”

“Nicholas Chien or Tuff Jackson?”

Samantha blinked in astonishment. She did not know what to say. Alon knew the name of her father’s three closest friends. Was the son of a friend also a friend?





Chapter 3



Samantha didn’t know what to do. She had never been on her own before and wouldn’t be now if not for her own willfulness. Because she had saved one human, her family were all running scattered to the four directions and at the mercy of strangers.

She had to find Bess Suncatcher, and she was not certain that Alon was really the Skinwalker raven’s son.

“If you are a bear like your father then can you also heal wounds?” asked Alon.

Samantha hesitated and then inclined her chin. One corner of his mouth turned upward as if this pleased him.

“I am also a twin.”

“Identical?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I have a sister.”

“Older or younger?”

His mouth went grim and he did not answer, but instead turned away. “Follow me.”

She didn’t, so he stopped and turned back, his face now somber and his eyes troubled.

“Samantha, don’t be so frightened.”

She straightened. “I’m not.”

His eyes rolled skyward at the lie. “I can hear your heartbeat.”

She glared but did not deny her disquiet again.

“I will see you safely to our home. You have my word.”