A Love Untamed (Feral Warriors #7)(49)

Feeling a gentle tug on her hair, she opened her eyes to find that Fox had wrapped a lock that had escaped her braid around his finger. Her heart squeezed, recognizing the need to comfort in his expression, even as he refrained from touching her more directly.

Tilting her head sideways to look at him, she found him watching her with blue eyes deep with longing and gentle understanding. Even as desire leaped like an electrical arc between them, he caressed the back of her head.

“I would never hurt you, pet. Never.”

Somehow, he saw the battle inside of her. Could he also tell she was coming apart at the seams? That she wanted him as badly as she wanted to run the other way?

He leaned forward, pressing his lips ever-so-briefly against her temple. When he pulled back, his gaze was soft as down. “You looked in need of it.”

Pressure welled in her chest. He was stealing her heart.

He lifted his hand and lightly stroked her head, and she melted against his side. Slowly, he curved his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, giving her a dozen opportunities to pull away. But she didn’t. She needed his strength, his comfort.

For so long, she’d felt nothing, nothing but rage and hatred. Now everything had changed. The rage toward the shifters was gone. Certainly the rage toward this shifter. How could she hate a man who’d risked everything to save her, and not just once? He was a good man, a kind man whom, against all reason, she was coming to adore.

Her mate. That’s what he might well have become if she were different. If she could be the woman she’d been before. But she couldn’t, she knew that. And she didn’t want to be. She wanted to reclaim the coldness, to once more become the unfeeling warrior. But to do that, she had to get away from Fox, and that wasn’t going to happen. Not now. Not within the Mage labyrinth.

So for this time out of time she would enjoy the closeness of another, the feeling of no longer being alone. And try to keep from destroying herself in the process.

As loose brush swirled into their small windbreak on the howling gale, she closed her eyes, hiding her face against Fox’s shoulder. Thank the ancient queens that he’d been caught with her, for she’d never survive this alone. If only he weren’t tearing down her defenses, brick by brick, awakening a desire and a need inside her that she feared would tear her apart.

Fox held Melisande against him, his hand on her shoulder, his body on fire, his heart breaking because he got it now. For a moment, when she first pulled away from him, she’d let her shields down, and he’d felt like he was staring into his sister Sheenagh’s eyes again in those horrible months after she’d been attacked. The fear. The anger.

Goddess. He’d already figured out Melisande had been captured. Now he’d seen blaring evidence that she’d been raped. No wonder she froze every time they got too close. His heart squeezed with pain at her suffering even as the rage stirred inside him.

If Castin was to blame, the male would die a thousand deaths before Fox handed him over to Melisande for the killing blow.

Finally, he understood how she could be so hot for him, so wet, yet push him away. But she hadn’t pushed him away at all, not really. He’d scared her. No, the situation had scared her. But, goddess, she wanted him. One moment she’d smelled of wild heather and the next her scent had exploded, turning lush and carnal—wild heather crushed beneath writhing bodies deep in the act of sex. And still it filled his nose, his lungs, making his c**k throb with wanting. It was her mating scent, he was sure, and it was driving him insane. Goddess in heaven, he hoped it went away soon because her arousal was sending his into orbit.

Finally, the winds began to die down. High above, the sun peeked out.

“Mother Nature appears to be over her pique.” Fox placed a soft kiss on Melisande’s head, then released her and pushed himself up, rising from the small windbreak to make certain they were still alone. The small, tropical forest was a shambles, but he saw no sign of life.

“Let’s take a look around.” He held out his hand to her.

As she placed her hand in his, Melisande met his gaze. Heat remained in her eyes, and a wealth of frustration. But as he smiled at her, the sapphire warmed with a hint of an answering smile. He resisted the need to haul her into his arms and against his heart for about four seconds, then did just that, pulling her close for a simple hug.

To his relief, she wrapped her arms around his waist and returned his hug briefly before pulling away, but not before he felt the way she still trembled. And not before he was enveloped, all over again, with that lush, carnal scent.

Her arousal hadn’t died at all. He watched as she fought for control, her jaw hardening, her back straightening as she turned to survey the area. A tough little warrior, despite everything. Tough on the outside, aye, but beneath that hard façade, he was beginning to see a different side of Melisande, one filled with a sweetness the other Ferals would never believe.

Deep inside, his fox snarled, a possessive sound this time. Mine. And he knew it was true. This woman was coming to mean far too much.

Moving out from the trees, they once more came upon the dead Mage.

“I’m going to see if I can pick up a trail,” Fox told her, hoping the shift to his animal might douse the sensual fire in his body, at least for a little while. He shifted, sighing with relief as the sexual need died away, then he turned his attention to the task at hand. He began sniffing around the bodies, then followed the trail back to the pit, padding all around the two sites.