Highland Wolf (Highland Brides #10)(95)

“You knew about the bombs. How did you know about the bombs?” her attacker muttered as he took the gun from her lax fingers and then tugged at her clothing, no doubt to check for any more weapons. “And how did you know there was a house back here? Or that I was in it?”

Stephanie didn’t even bother to try to answer. Not that she thought he expected her to. She suspected he was muttering to himself, and might not know she was even conscious. She shouldn’t be, and wasn’t exactly sure why she was. Like the gun he held, the dart had been easily recognizable as rogue hunter paraphernalia. That dart should have knocked her out. Yet she hadn’t lost consciousness and could feel a tingling in her fingers and toes that suggested the drug was already wearing off. This was unexpected.

“Steph.”

She was so startled that he’d used her name that her eyes shot open, and for a moment Stephanie was sufficiently distracted by the fact that they actually would open, that she forgot what he’d said.

“That’s what she called you, Steph.”

Stephanie peered at him to see that he was looking off toward Mirabeau and not at her. Even as she noted that, he turned his gaze back to her. His eyes immediately widened when he saw hers were open.

“You shouldn’t be awake,” he said, sounding nonplussed. “The dose in that dart would have knocked an immortal out cold for at least twenty minutes.”

Stephanie wanted to tell him to go to hell, but unlike her eyes, her mouth still wasn’t working. She wasn’t able to move her jaws, and her tongue was a useless thing in her mouth. Then he was suddenly leaning over her, his fingers forcing their way inside her mouth and pressing on her palate behind her canine teeth. Disgusted and furious, Stephanie tried to bite him then, but her mouth still wouldn’t work.

“You have metallic tinted eyes like immortals, but no fangs,” he muttered, retracting his fingers and eyeing her with fascination. “And if the drug from the dart is wearing off this quickly, you obviously have a stronger constitution than immortals. What are you?”

Unable to punch him in the face or claw his eyes out as she would have liked to do, Stephanie just glared back at him.

“This is fascinating. Perhaps I should take you with me,” he murmured thoughtfully, and glanced toward the open door to the house behind him as if considering the logistics of doing so.

“Beau? Steph?”

Stephanie instinctively tried to turn her head toward that shout in the distance, but unlike her eyelids, her neck muscles didn’t suddenly start working and she was unable to.

“Damn,” her attacker muttered with what sounded like frustration.

Shifting her gaze back to him, she saw him look briefly toward the woods and scowl in the direction the shout had come from. He then shook his head and stood. “It looks like I’ll have to leave you behind. But I sincerely hope we meet again, Steph whoever-you-are. I should like to get you on my table and find out what makes you tick.”

A cold smile of relish crossed his face at the thought, and then he turned and moved unhurriedly into the house and closed the door.

Stephanie stared at the oak panel, almost afraid it might open again and he’d return for her after all. While her first response to this man had been fury and disgust, the emptiness in his eyes and that smile of his as he’d announced his desire to get her “on his table and find out what made her tick” had wiped out both emotions and sent an icy flood of fear through her veins. She was more than relieved to hear a curse sound much closer just before Tiny raced into view as he rushed to Mirabeau’s prone body.

“What the hell happened to them?”

Stephanie recognized Decker’s voice before she saw him speeding toward her.

“Steph? What happened?” Decker repeated when he dropped to his knees at her side and saw that her eyes were open. Apparently, finding her lack of response alarming, he reached toward her and then hesitated. She read the worry in his mind that he had no idea what her injuries were and didn’t wish to aggravate them or hurt her.

“Mirabeau has a dart in her neck,” Tiny growled, sounding seriously pissed.

“A dart?” Decker glanced toward the other man with amazement. “What kind of dart?”

“One of ours from the looks of it,” the big man said grimly, and she saw him pluck the dart from Mirabeau’s neck and examine it briefly before tossing it aside. Tiny peered down at his life mate briefly, and then looked toward her and Decker. “Steph must have been shot too, look for the dart.”

Decker turned back to Stephanie and she saw his eyes travel over her body before shifting to the ground around her. When he suddenly cursed and reached for something in the grass beside her, she knew it must be the dart before he picked it up to examine it more closely, moving it into her view. It must have been dislodged from her chest when she’d fallen, she thought.

“Damn. It is one of ours,” Decker growled before slipping it into his pocket. He cast a quick, wary gaze toward the house, scanning the windows and door and then turned his attention back to Stephanie. His expression was troubled as his gaze narrowed on her open eyes again and she didn’t have to be a mind reader to know he was concerned as to why they were open, and what that meant.

“Her eyes are open!”

Stephanie shifted her gaze over Decker’s shoulder at that surprised exclamation to see that Tiny had scooped up Mirabeau and carried her over to join them.