Beauty's Beast Read online

  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.”

  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.

  “No
w 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.

  “The Thunderbirds might have saved him,” he offered, squeezing his hands to fists and willing himself to take slow, steady breaths. Each one brought the floral scent of her to him. The sharp claws retracted and he let his shoulders sag.

  She blinked at him with those impossibly long lashes, and he was hit with another emotion—lust, deep and red. He was not touching her, so he knew that this reaction was all his. He tried to move away, but she reached out her hand. The only way to control his response was not to touch her, yet he found his arm lifting, his fingers lacing with hers. How could the simple pressing of palm to palm raise every hair on his body?

  “Do you think so?”

  The hope flickering in her russet-brown eyes did something to his insides. It felt as if she squeezed his heart instead of his hand. What was happening to him?

  “They protect Skinwalkers. He is a Skinwalker. Therefore they protect him.” The logic that so annoyed his mother seemed to help Samantha, for a smile broke like the dawn across her lovely face.

  She lunged at him, and he had time only to brace himself before her arms wrapped about his neck as she hugged him. He stiffened as she pressed to him. His body sprang to attention with a rush of blood and surging need.

  What madness was this? Why would she hug him now that she knew what he was?

  She seemed to come to her senses in slow degrees. Did she notice that he did not hug her back? That his hands stayed in fists at his sides and he held his body rigid as a corpse? She slid off him, her toes returning to the earth as she pushed away.

  He found his breath again, but each time he inhaled, the air was full of her arousing, alluring scent. He growled.

  “I’m sorry, Alon. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She stared up at him. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”

  They were likely changing color, turning from icy blue to the sickly yellow of his first form. He spun, giving her his back, and stalked away.

  This time she pursued him.

  “Do you really think that he’s alive?”

  He would do nothing to crush the hope he now heard in her musical voice. But neither did he want her joyful again. It was too dangerous for them both.

  “It’s possible.”

  She trotted behind him in silence for a shockingly short time. Then the questions began again.

  “You don’t look like the ones that attacked my family. Why are you so different?”

  He cast a glance
back at her.

  “Nothing personal, but I’m not inclined to answer your questions, either. Two-way street.”

  Her brow wrinkled and she stopped again, pressing both hands to her hips in a posture that reminded him of his mother when she was on a tear.

  “Fine. What do you want to know?”

  What she looked like naked. He paused, weighing his options, knowing he should leave her, knowing he would not.

  “Well?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want to know anything about you except how to get rid of you.”

  Her hands slid from her hips and dropped to her sides. Her chin trembled for a moment before she bit down on her lower lip with straight white upper teeth. Did she use the pain to keep her from tears? He stepped closer, fascinated. His sister never cried.

  “I didn’t ask to come here.”

  “Neither did I invite you.”

  She folded her arms over her chest. Her breasts squeezed upward from the constriction, and he forced himself to look away an instant too late. Damn, he wanted to see what she had under that stupid uniform. He wanted to pin her to the earth and...

  “How much farther?”

  He didn’t know if he should shake her or kiss her. He wanted to do both. He stared at the trees and prayed to the Great Spirit to send him control.

  “Four hundred and fifty meters,” he said.

  “Do you have internet? I want to write my family and tell them I am all right.”

  That might be premature, he thought. If Nagi was after her, he might be following her. If he found her, Nagi would find him and Aldara and all the young ones hidden in these woods. He and Aldara were the eldest. It was their duty to keep them safe.

  “To get to the computer, we have to move that way.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “And you keep stopping.”

  Samantha continued beside him without pausing or asking her endless questions. Alon listened for the yearlings while scenting the air for their trail. For some reason they were not in their usual territory. Perhaps Aldara had succeeded in communicating with them. If anyone could, it would be his sister.

  The packs roaming the property concerned him deeply. Samantha had been very lucky that he found her first.