Beauty's Beast(6)

Was he still behind her?

She chanced a glance over her shoulder and saw nothing.

How far had she come? Far enough for the adrenaline to ebb, deserting her now, turning her knees to water. The drum of her heart yielded to the buzz she recognized as dangerous. She’d run too far, too hard. Her body demanded rest. She could hear nothing but the unnatural hum in her ears brought on by a lack of oxygen to her brain. Samantha glanced about, slowing, gripping the tree trunk before her for support.

Where was he now?

Sweat soaked her clothing, trickled down her back and beaded upon her face. She used her sleeve to wipe her forehead, and she realized her fingers were tingling.

But she’d escaped him.

“Samantha?”

She jumped, spun and faced him. He stood some four feet before her, in a grove of ferns that brushed his bare hips. From what she could see he was naked. His mouth now dipped down in an expression of disapproval. Why wasn’t he sweating? Where were his clothes? She must have sprinted six miles, and yet his breathing was normal. He had not a hair out of place, as if he’d just dropped from the sky. She glanced up.

Had he?

“Leave me alone.” She managed the words between gasps for breath.

He stepped closer, leaving the ferns and giving her an eyeful. His skin was flawless, he was extremely well-endowed and his abs were as taut and defined as a male cover model’s.

Samantha crouched. If she couldn’t escape, she’d attack. She swung at him with one arm, a blow that would have sent any ordinary man flying, but he absorbed it without even rocking on his feet. Instead, it was she who ricocheted backward, something that had never happened to her before.

She turned and fled again, back the way she had come, the surge of adrenaline buoying her up, giving her energy. How had he caught her? Why hadn’t she heard him coming?

This time she ran until she dropped, falling to her knees behind the cover of a downed tree. She waited, listening, but could hear nothing but the roar of her blood and that warning buzz in her ears. She wondered if she might faint.

She crouched, trembling like the rabbit she had become. Gradually the sounds of the forest returned—bird song, the whine of insects, the wind in the treetops.

She placed her hands on the rough, damp bark and lifted her head like a prairie dog searching for her pursuer.

He appeared a moment later, his hair looking mussed as he drew on a gray T-shirt and slipped into his long-sleeved dove-gray shirt. When he’d fastened the second-to-last button and tucked the shirt’s hem into his gray jeans, she noticed his feet were bare.

He stared directly at her as if he knew where she hid. She was on her feet and running again before he spoke, but she heard him calling for her to stop. She’d die running first.

The sudden weight of something striking her lower back hurdled her forward. His arms wrapped about her and they toppled together onto the loam of needles. He took the brunt of the fall but then rolled her so fast the world blurred for an instant.

Samantha found herself lying on her back, staring up at Alon, who now straddled her hips. He’d hooked his lower legs across her shins, pinning them to the earth. He had already gained possession of her left wrist. She took a swing at him with her right, but he blocked the blow with disquieting ease, securing her other hand. He trapped her wrists above her head. His wide torso was now poised above hers, his breathing slow and steady, as she gasped for the air she lacked.

She bucked and he shook his head in disapproval. Did he expect her to surrender just because she was beaten? She writhed in a vain effort to dislodge him. He tilted his head to study her, his expression confused.

It took only another moment to recognize that she had found a man who was stronger than she. Her brother, Blake, could pin her on a good day, as could her father. But she had never met an outsider with the strength of a bear who was not a bear. Her body went cold and her stomach cramped at the realization. She was dead.

She strained her arms, twisting, but his easy grip did not yield.

“Stop. You’re hurting yourself.”

Why didn’t he move to finish her?

The dread ebbed against a groundswell of anger. This was not some game, at least not to her. Finally, she laid her head back, gritting her teeth against the fury of her defeat. Samantha went still, but her muscles remained taut, ready for any opportunity.

He was a Halfling, but like none she’d ever known. Born of Nagi. Born of a living ghost.

He gave her a pleased smile. To her absolute shock, she felt a flash of heat in response. Gradually she became aware of the fit of his strong legs on her hips and that weird hum of sensation where he touched her wrists.

Was this why he pursued her? Was he after her body, or was it that the idea of killing excited him? She shivered, wondering exactly what kind of a monster this might be.

He dropped to his elbows, pressing his chest to hers. She waited for the heaving revulsion she expected. But to her dismay the sensation of his warm chest pressing her to the earth set off a tingle of excitement that rippled over her skin, making her breasts sensitive.

No, no, she could not be aroused by this spawn of her enemy. She squeezed her eyes closed against the horror. When she opened them it was to find his clear blue eyes staring down into hers.

Why was he so perfectly made? This was some cruel trick of nature.

His smile made her stomach twitch. He nestled his hips against hers as if they were lovers, instead of enemies, and her body responded, becoming wet and tight in preparation. She prayed he did not have the acute sense of smell that she did, for then her humiliation would be complete.

“Kill me or let me up,” she ordered.

“Neither. I’m not trying to kill you, little shifter. I am trying to keep you from killing yourself. So we’ll just wait until your heart rate returns to normal.”

Her brow furrowed. That would never happen. Not with his big male body blanketing her while his intoxicating scent played havoc with her senses. This was more shameful than her capture. Nothing had ever outrun her before.

She let her head drop to the earth and accepted defeat. Spots danced before her eyes and her chest ached from her exertions.

“That’s better. Rest. You were running yourself to death. I stopped you.”

She didn’t try to hide her annoyance. “If you were so concerned, why didn’t you just let me go?”

He shook his head, his expression somber as if he was sorry.

“No, it’s not safe in these woods.”

“I was born in the woods. I can defend myself.”

“These woods are not like the ones you have known.” He glanced about, scanning their surroundings. “Not at all.”

She shivered at the edge in his voice and the terror his words evoked. What was here that could be more dangerous than he was?

Now Samantha did not know if she should try to escape him, or ask for his protection.

Nothing could ever catch her when she ran. Nothing and no one, until today. She had finally met her match, and he could do anything he liked to her. The realization filled her belly with terror and her heart with a thrill of anticipation.

She bucked again. His attention fixed back to her.

“Let me up,” she demanded.

He shook his head, sending his white-blond hair cascading over his forehead. How could a man this appealing have been spawned by something as repulsive as Nagi?

“Not until you are rested.”

“Let me up!”

He shook his head. “If I do, you’ll run again. Won’t you, rabbit? You’re a good runner. I wonder what would happen if you ever turned to fight?”

He was right again. Her entire life had been one long game of hide-and-seek against Nagi and his ghosts.

Alon’s attention strayed from her eyes, wandered lazily down her face and then fixed on her mouth.

Her lips parted as she recognized the blatant desire written on his face. His mouth quirked and his gaze slid to her throat and then her breasts before returning to fix on her eyes. The intent stare made her tingle all over.

She writhed against him, side to side, feeling his erection growing as she did so. He winced as if in pain.

“You should stop that,” he said, his voice now no more than a growl.

Samantha ceased fighting.

“That’s better.” His voice mesmerized, his eyes hypnotized.

“What are you doing to me?”

“The same thing you’re doing to me, I think.”

The desire beat inside her like a living thing, demanding she yield.

“You’re putting these thoughts in my head.”

It had to be his thoughts. This feeling could not be coming from inside her. She could not be physically attracted to her enemy. He must be sending them to her, invading her mind as she had heard some Niyanoka could do.

He shook his head. “This does not come from me. It comes from us. It is unwelcome.”

“You said it, buster.”

“I meant that I find it unwelcome.”