Beauty's Beast(7)

That shocked her into silence.

His fine hair shimmered in the sunlight, his eyes narrowed and he stared a long moment. She felt he was deciding something and found herself holding her breath.

“You were sent to my mother. That makes you my responsibility. So I place you under my protection.”

“She’s not your mother.”

His eyes went cold then and his mouth turned hard. “What do you know about anything?”

He rolled away but held control of her wrist. She tried and failed to break his grip as he dragged her to her feet. She made an attempt to run, and he yanked her arm so that she collided with his torso. A moment later he had her in his arms.

“Stop acting like a child. I didn’t invite you here,” he said. “And I don’t want you here. I just want to be left alone.” He gave her a squeeze, pressing the breath from her. “Can you understand that? But neither of us gets what we want. I’m stuck with you. And you’re stuck with me. Got it?”

“I don’t need your help,” she said and tried to prove it by jerking her arm free of his grasp. She failed again.

“You wouldn’t last ten minutes. Now stop making a nuisance of yourself and start acting like what you are, an uninvited guest who is a pain in my ass.”

She was about to laugh in his face. Did he really think she was that helpless? She was a grizzly bear, for heaven’s sake, fully capable of defeating...

Some of her bravado ebbed away and she stilled. She couldn’t defeat Alon. Were there others here like him?





Chapter 4



Alon held tight to the little Skinwalker, who had finally come to accept that he was stronger than she. How he’d love to just let her go. But his mother would skin him alive. Alon knew Sebastian by reputation. His mother would want him to protect her friend’s child.

“If I release your wrist will you promise not to run?”

“Why? I thought you could catch me so easily.” She tried for a fierce look that only put a wrinkle in her pretty brow. This game wearied him.

“Perhaps I will tie you to that tree,” he said.

That arched an eyebrow as she turned to consider the tree in question. He didn’t have any rope, but she didn’t seem to realize that.

She held on to her anger, gnawing her full lower lip, but she conceded. “I will not run.”

He released her instantly, happy to be away from the softness of her skin and the scent that drew him like nectar.

Now he could not feel her yielding curves. But he could see them. Samantha Proud was tall for a woman, reaching nearly to his chin, and he found that he liked the way her body fit to his as much as he admired the grace of her movements.

She had an extremely pleasing feminine form, full and shapely at the breast and hip, and narrow in the waist. Her thick dark brown hair had come loose in her wild run, and she no longer wore the ridiculous ranger hat. Where had it gone? The thick strands now cascaded in a tangle over her shoulder, spilling over her full breasts and curling at her waist. Her mane framed her heart-shaped face. Her large eyes, high flushed cheeks and pointed chin combined to be more than their parts. His stomach twitched as he studied her, resisting the urge to advance. Her full lips could not be pressed into a flat, grim line, though she tried. She narrowed her cinnamon eyes at him. The unspoken threat and obvious displeasure amused him, and he felt an unfamiliar smile tease at his mouth.

“Now what?” she asked.

It was an excellent question and one to which he had no answer. He wished Aldara was here. His twin sister was the more vicious, but she was female and might know what to do with Samantha.

Alon could think of only one thing. But he knew his mother would not approve. He cast aside his baser instincts for the moment, though he had captured her fair and square. With her, he forgot his moral objections to taking a woman and began to consider how it might best be done.

“Alon?”

He had to shake his head to drive off the lustful images. Why did she have to smell so intoxicating? Why was her hair all rich brown and falling about her shoulders in a curtain. Her long lashes made her eyes even more entrancing.

“Now, I take you back to the house and...”

She raised her sculptured brows, hanging on his words. When he stopped her expression turned to disapproving.

“And?”

“Contact your folks? I’m not sure. I’ve never found a Skinwalker in the woods before. Why did the ghosts attack you?”

“No offense, but I don’t know you. I want to speak to Bess.”

He shrugged and then motioned in the direction of home. The woman was a pain, but she was also pretty, tall and strong. Any male would find her attractive. Any who was looking for companionship.

He was not. He had to remind himself again. He never would be.

“So your mom is gone. What about your twin sister and Bess’s husband, Cesar Garza?”

“My sister and I are gathering the remaining yearlings.” He lifted his nose, searching for Aldara’s scent, but did not find it. She’d promised to stay close. “My parents took my pack north to relocate because ghosts have been seen close to this place. Neither will come back here.”

“Nagi’s ghosts?”

“We’ve known for some time that a war was coming. My parents warned yours. They warned everyone. Few would listen. Nagi is recruiting us to join his army. Your father knows this. Your family may have been the first to be attacked, but they won’t be the last. An army of Ghostlings will be hard to defeat.”

“Ghostlings?”

Had she not heard the term?

“Naginoka, children of Nagi. Bess calls us Ghostlings or Ghost Children. What do you call us?”

Samantha glanced away. Had she heard the other words, the ones that marked them as what they were? Walking Dead. Toe Taggers. Alon ground his teeth to keep them from lengthening. Strong emotions brought the change.

It was why he needed to be rid of her. He did not wish to admit it, but she affected him, aroused him and brought him one step closer to his most savage self.

But when he touched her, the sensation was like nothing he ever experienced, hot and cold, desire mixed with panic. She was dangerous, this one, because she threatened his control.

“What does that mean, that he’s recruiting Ghostlings?” she asked.

“He’s hunting us.”

Samantha stopped walking, and he was forced to stop again. He didn’t like talking, and he especially did not like talking about this. But he did find pleasure in her voice. The resonance and timbre hit him in the chest.

“Hunting? What happens when he catches one?”

“He gives him a choice. Join his army or die.”

Her face went pale. “How many have joined?”

“Ah,” he said. “For a moment I thought you sympathized with our plight.” He turned away.

She trotted to catch up.

“I might be more sympathetic if they hadn’t attacked my family. My father stayed behind to fight. They were slashing at him with those razor claws when the Thunderbirds took me. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”

He paused so she could draw even with him. “How many Ghostlings?”

“Maybe a half dozen.”

“He’s dead.”

Samantha staggered. He reached out to steady her. The instant his fingers brushed her hand the electric surge returned, stronger than before. His heart sped, blood roared and his arousal stirred. He broke away.

Dangerous. She was all that, and in ways he had never imagined. She looked stunned, as well. She drew her hand to her chest, cradling it as if his touch had burned her skin.

“But my father has never been defeated,” whispered Samantha.

“Then he has never faced a Ghostling.” This time he saw his words strike her like arrows. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went glassy. He recalled his mother saying he was too blunt and that the truth, especially a hard truth, needed to be delivered with care.

“My father stayed to protect us, to give us time to flee.”

“Then he did his duty as a father, defending his young.”

“I want to go back for him.”

Alon’s expression was serious. “But did he not fight so you could live? To go back would be to throw away his sacrifice.”

Her eyes welled with glistening silver tears, and she dashed them away as they fell.

“He asked you to find my mother. That is what you should do.”

Her nostrils flared as she narrowed her dark eyes on him, but she nodded her consent. Perhaps she did not like him reminding her of her duty to her parents.

He brushed the hair from her face, the backs of his fingers grazing the high angle of her cheekbone. The rage caught him like a blow. Was that his anger or hers?

His claws emerged from his fingers and his skin tingled with energy. The change was coming. He released Samantha and took several steps back. He needed to calm himself or she’d see him change.