First Heat Page 2

  His opponent was strong, but slow. Hunter took him to his back. When the challenger reached for his knife, Hunter held his foe’s head between his hands like a coconut and pounded it once on the concrete. He had not even straightened when the next one leaped onto his back. This one tore a hank of hair from Hunter’s head before Hunter threw him onto the roof of the van. His rival was too stunned to keep from falling hard to the ground. The pop of his shoulder dislocating made Hunter smile.

  Two down.

  The others hesitated, seeming to have lost their libido amid the carnage. One attacked, clumsy as a freshman football player hitting the blocking sled for the first time. Hunter punched him in the nose. He didn’t wait for the next one but used the heel of his boot to break a deck board from a wooden pallet and went at him swinging. One of the two remaining challengers ducked, while the other tried to use his forearm to block. The bones gave way, cracking like a stick breaking.

  His final contender transformed to his wolf self and ran.

  Hunter turned back to the van to see Lena lying beneath the back bumper, in human form, her forearms pressed to the dirty concrete while her mane of dark hair fell over her shoulders and out onto the ground. Lena did everything she could to be less desirable and still he wanted her. No, he needed her. He’d followed her all day, reacquainting himself with her, and had shown himself three times, yet she had still refused him. Well he’d won the right; she could not deny him now.

  “Come out.”

  She flinched and crept farther beneath the battered delivery van. Was he so repugnant in her eyes?

  “Come out or I will drag you out.”

  Lena inched forward like a marine in an obstacle course and drew to her feet, wearing nothing but a wet, stained white T-shirt, which clung to her curves and showed the hard, beaded outlines of her dark nipples. For reasons he did not understand, she did not wear her wolf skin, but left the unusual inky-colored fur on the ground as if it were trash.

  When changing from animal to human, Skinwalkers first appeared in their animal skin. Most quickly altered their coat into some desirable attire. Her behavior puzzled him and he had the first inkling of doubt. Something about her was not right.

  She stood before him, her keen eyes sweeping the scene. All remaining challengers lay bleeding, broken or unconscious.

  “I didn’t kill them. Do you require it to accept me?”

  Lena stood trembling from a potent cocktail of cold and terror. Her bad dream had become a waking nightmare.

  What was happening to her?

  She folded her arms over her wet shirt as she looked from one injured man to the next. Lena turned her bewildered eyes on the one who had defeated them all. He stood with his jaw set in an expression of determination, his eyes burning with the hot blue flames of rage. Sweat and blood stained his T-shirt.

  Who was this stranger?

  “You could have prevented this had you accepted me earlier.”

  “I think you’re all mad.” She backed away and bumped into the grill of the van. The cold metal contacting her bare thighs caused her to jump forward. “You might have killed them.”

  He lowered his chin, now looking more dangerous than before. “Was that your wish?”

  “What? No!”

  “Then come here.”

  She didn’t. In fact she crept along the bumper, considering her options and finding them all bad.

  “You wish to be taken by force, then?” The downturn of his mouth and the pressing of his lips showed this was an option he didn’t relish.

  “No.” Did he hear her voice squeak?

  Her eyes widened as every nerve ending sprang to life. Blood coursed through her, making her eardrums pound. She rested her trembling hands on the hood, preparing to push off and make a useless run for the street, knowing she’d never make it past him.

  He stalked forward, hands stretched wide to take her if she ran.

  “I gave you the chance to come to me, but you wanted this, as is your right.”

  “I didn’t! I just want you to go. To leave me alone.”

  “Not possible. So come with me or choose another.” His arm swept the carnage he had caused.

  She ran.

  He captured her easily, dragging her back against him. Then he stooped, scooped up the dirty hide from beneath the van and fastened it about her neck. The cloak, she realized. The one she’d found months ago and carried in her pack ever since. How had it gotten here?

  “Let me go,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to wrench her arm free.

  “Soon,” he promised. “I’m not one to linger. Once we’ve concluded our business, I will leave you as I found you, trying to con coeds into having a sleepover with the big bad wolf.”

  He dragged her past the men who had challenged him. What chance did she have when each of them had failed?

  At the mouth of the alley he stopped to pull her full against him. Her head swam as his arms enfolded her. Instead of escape, she leaned in, pressing her breasts against the stellar musculature of his torso.

  He gave her a knowing grin that was all lust and promise. Then he captured her hair in his fist and dragged her head back. He kissed her throat, first, licking the throbbing vessel at her neck, and then pressed his mouth to hers. A tiny sliver of heat sparked in her belly and caught. In an instant she burned, blazed, quivered with need for him. What was happening to her?

  His tongue was hot and wet as it slipped into her mouth. A cry of hunger escaped her. What was she doing? She should be horrified. Instead, her body pulsed with a throbbing need for his touch, the longing for what was still familiar. Hunter Ortiz, her first love, now a living nightmare. She didn’t understand it, but Lena closed her eyes and gave herself over to his kiss.

  When she clung to him, he drew back, looking smug and also impatient.

  “Here?” he asked.

  Her eyes widened as she recognized what he meant. He was suggesting they do it right here in the alley, surrounded by these other men. She shook her head.

  “Privacy then.” He nodded. “I have a place. Change your clothing.”

  She blinked at him. He gave a frustrated growl and swept a hand over his bloody T-shirt. When had he lost his coat?

  “I left my backpack at the dorm.”

  He cocked his head, casting her a puzzled look and then rested a hand over his chest. Instantly, his shirt disappeared beneath a calf-length black leather duster.

  “Hides the blood. Now you.”

  Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a breath. What was he? She backed away as far as she could with him securing each elbow.

  “Lena, don’t you know how to shift?”

  She stared up at him, knowing she didn’t want this, didn’t want to hear what he was about to tell her. “I can’t do that. I’m not like you. I—I just want to be normal.”

  He gave a snort of disgust. “This is normal for a Skinwalker. Now change your clothes or I’ll do it for you.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest. “I don’t know how.”

  He grasped her jaw and he lifted it until her eyes met his penetrating gaze.

  “Who was your mentor?”

  “What?”

  “Lena, don’t you know what you are?”

  Chapter Three

  Hunter stared at Lena. She was eighteen, ripe and in her first heat and she didn’t even know it. Hadn’t understood it. All the anger washed from him like a retreating wave, replaced with a rising groundswell of compassion. She had not been trying to force a battle, but had been trying to escape from the men who pursued her. Lena didn’t understand why they followed, why they fought or that they would not stop until one of them was the victor.

  She stood before him, confused, frightened and trembling.

  He wanted to gather her up in his arms and rescue her, save her from what would come next. But he couldn’t. No one could. The best he could do was make sure that he was the one who took her, the only one, and then try to control himself as best he could.<
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  Why was she so ill-prepared? How could she be full grown and not have been told what she was?

  “Didn’t they come for you?” he asked.

  “Who?”

  “Your mother or your father.”

  She glared at him. “Hunter, you know my mom died in jail and that I never met my father. I told you all that back…before.”

  Before, when they were friends, confidants and so much more.

  “Your father must have been the Skinwalker, for none of our kind could be held by a human jail.”

  “Human…jail. What do you mean, human?”

  “Why didn’t your mentor come for you?”

  “Mentor? What are you talking about? I’m on my own. Always have been.”

  Hunter did not understand it, but he knew they had to get moving or risk the appearance of more challengers.

  He took hold of her, his fingers sinking deep into the thick, beautiful black coat that encircled her shoulders as he concentrated his energy. Some things were easier to believe if witnessed, and this small thing he could do to see to her comfort.

  There was a crackle and then a pop as her cape shifted. She now stood in calf-high boots, a pair of skinny blue jeans and a flowing blouse in a swirling flower pattern. This was the outfit that Hunter had seen her admiring in a boutique window this afternoon. He’d only meant to please her. But judging by the look of terror on her face, he’d frightened her again.

  “Wait, how?”

  Police sirens squealed from a few blocks off.

  “Later,” he said.

  He took her hand and pulled her from the alley, down Sullivan and then to Bleecker. They crossed Sixth and headed down the alley beside a theater to the place he’d prepared for her, his den.

  He stayed behind Lena as she climbed the fire escape, watching her back and checking for any sign of pursuit. Finally, on the fourth floor he paused to push up the sash of a half-opened window.

  “This your place?” she asked, peering into the darkness beyond the sill.

  “Yeah, for now.” He never stayed anywhere very long.

  Hunter extended his hand. She took it, pressing her warm, damp palm to his cool dry one as he assisted her inside.

  “I can see everything, even without the light,” she said, looking to him for some explanation.

  “Because you’re a wolf, Lena. We have excellent vision and no other Skinwalker has the sense of smell we have. Unparalleled.”

  She started to cry. “I knew something was wrong with me. I knew it.”

  He scooped her off her feet and carried her into the loft he’d rented for this purpose. He’d prayed Lena was still here in this morass of mortality, here among the millions and so he had come at the appropriate time, rented a loft for her comfort. He’d done well since running from the system. Once he’d discovered who and what he was, he’d used his tracking skills to find missing persons: runaways, wayward wives, absent ex’s who neglected their child support. All easily found with his acute sense of smell. As long as he had something that held their scent, he could track them no matter where they ran.

  Would Lena be satisfied with the den he had created? He’d never secured living quarters for a female before. But he knew Lena or he had known her. A bed of her own, a place where she felt safe meant everything to her. The loft was dry and warm and well supplied with food. She could stay with him through her time and he’d see she lacked for nothing. Or she could go and take another.

  He would leave her when her body no longer hummed with need for him for that was the way of his kind.

  He resented all females for calling him, using him, taking control of him so that he had no choice but to do as his body bid. Lena’s call was strongest, for she called not only to his body, but also to his heart.

  He flicked on the overhead lights to let her see more clearly what he had prepared. The room was spacious for New York and had an industrial design, with walls of brickwork and exposed piping. The kitchen flanked one wall beyond a large dinette. In the center, a multicolored area rug lay before a red sofa and two cushiony brown leather armchairs, flanked by end tables set with vintage lamps. He tried to see the room through her eyes and just now noticed that the Spartan utility of the space seemed inadequate. The opposite wall was dominated by an enormous bed made with fresh linens, covered with many pillows and white down comforters. He would have her in a proper bed, not up against the wall in an alley that smelled of urine and sweat. Would it please her?

  She still cried, and he stroked her thick hair, wondering why she saw the need to dye a bit of her forelock a bright royal blue.

  “I just want to be like the rest of them. I’m not a wolf. I’m not like you.”

  He couldn’t let that pass. Hunter lifted her chin, bringing her face up until he could look into her golden eyes. He raised his brow and pressed his lips together, letting her feel his disapproval. Her denial did not ring true. Even without mentoring, there would have been signs that she was more than human, signs that even an inexperienced young woman could not fail to recognize.

  She exhaled through clenched teeth. “All right! I knew there was something wrong with me, but I hoped it would pass.”

  “In other words, you were in denial.”

  “I hate it!” she said, snapping with a ferocity that made him draw his hand back. She was strong. He knew it, had recognized it long ago. Lena had the mental toughness required to survive the system that broke so many.

  The look she gave him was haunting and familiar, the same look she’d given him when he’d come to say goodbye. When he felt his own change nearing, he’d naturally sought the wild places, but she would not come with him.

  “I shouldn’t have left you behind.”

  She lifted her trembling chin. Her misery knifed through him like a razor blade as she shrugged one shoulder.

  “Everyone does.” She said in a whisper so low he couldn’t have heard her if not for his acute hearing. “What’s wrong with me?”

  “Nothing. You are as the Great Spirit made you.”

  That made her cry harder. He wished the heat didn’t burn so fervently in him. God, the scent of her drove him to madness. He’d waited years for the right to win her, touch her, take her for his own. He could not wait much longer. Already he was half blind with need. She was so warm, so near.

  He opened his arms and she leapt, colliding into him, her fingers knotted in his shirt as she clung fiercely to him. He enfolded her, aligning their bodies, praying she also experienced the electric zip of contact that stung his flesh. She stilled.

  Thank God, he thought. Lena stood motionless against him, silent, her breathing altering from the rasp of tears to a heavy draw born of longing. Her scent changed, growing more heady, alluring. She rocked on the balls of her feet, side to side, her breasts brushing over his chest, veiled only by the thin gauzy blouse. He sucked in air through his teeth then stepped quickly away. She looked up at him, her face still wet with tears, but her eyes now glittered with want.

  He drew her along, hurrying, racing his control. Trying to see to her comfort, to show her that he wanted more than just the sex. Trying to prove he was different than the pack outside. And failing.

  He felt it—his control dissolving like a sugar cube in hot water. It was only a matter of minutes now. He clenched his teeth against the terrible ache of yearning as they reached the master bath. He left the light off, needing none to see in the shades of gray that were his night world, knowing she could see just as clearly. He released her only long enough to open the huge glass door to the modern shower, so out of place in these industrial surroundings. Her eyes never left him as he turned on the water, adjusting the temperature and using his open hand to check the stinging spray. Various showerheads surrounded him on three sides, with the largest above them in a human interpretation of rainfall. Behind them a marble bench stretched the length of the back half of the chamber.

  Steam billowed into the room.

  He touched her shoulder, c
hanging the outfit he had created to a gold necklace with a gleaming wolf-tooth pendant at the center of her throat. Her body gleamed pale and opalescent as the inner shell of an oyster, thin wasp waist, full hips, a concave belly that needed filling. His gaze slipped to the triangular thatch of black hair that pointed to his purpose.

  He was here, she was here only to mate.

  “I’ll bathe you first.” He drew back to allow her to enter the shower, afraid he could no longer control himself if he touched her. “You’re in heat, Lena. Your first. That’s why I’ve come, why we’ve all come. We answer your call. The scent is irresistible to male wolves.”

  “Male wolves,” she echoed, her voice low and hushed.

  “As long as we stay together, as long as we are coupling they will not interfere, but if you leave me or I leave you, they will pursue you once more.”

  She shivered at this, her eyes wide with astonishment.

  “So, you’re like me.” Her voice held resignation and a note of desperation.

  “The same,” he assured.

  Her eyes sparkled. “Let me see.”

  He nodded, then stepped back, calling the energy to change. The power sizzled through him, making his body hum like a high voltage wire as he transformed into his other form. He sat upon the plush bath mat before her, a large gray timber wolf, his long tongue lolling, as he stared up at her with hungry eyes.

  Lena stepped toward him, her eyes unnaturally wide as she extended her hand. He licked it, tasting the salt on her skin. She shivered, her hand trembling as he nuzzled her, rubbing first against her fingers and then the silk of her bare thigh. She rested her hand on his head, her fingers delving deep into his thick fur. He closed his eyes to savor her touch as he called on his power to shift again, rising, capturing her hand, bringing it to his cheek.

  “It’s true, then,” she whispered.

  “True.” He was drowning in her scent, the hot draw of her breath, the rise and fall of her full breasts. “The craving will not leave you until you take one of us. I want you. Choose me.”