Her plea sent him over the edge and his upper body bowed back, the muscles in his beautiful chest and neck standing out sharp. The pleasure transformed his face with a soul shattering devastation and Karly would never tire of witnessing the phenomenon.
Her angel. Her man. Her husband.
CHAPTER NINE
Sam moaned and stretched, feeling like she’d been languishing nude in the sun for several days, her muscles warm, and her body humming. She moseyed her way to the surface of the most delicious sleep where some strange reality awaited. Nothing she felt, heard, or smelled, fit any kind of normalcy she knew.
“How do you feel?”
Holy cowpies, that voice. Felt like the words grazed her sensitive female parts like jiggly honey. How did she feel? “Amazing.” She opened her eyes finally and narrowed her gaze. The most amazing man stood over her. "Who the hell are you?" The dim light and dark interior of the room confirmed she was somewhere other than her room.
"You don't… No of course not," he muttered with an odd sort of frown furrowing his brow. “I’m Toren. The new help? You’ve been pretty sick but I think you’re better now.” He started to say something more but seemed to think better of it and clamped his delicious mouth closed.
Sam let his reply stand and took a quick assessment of her surroundings. They seemed to be in a small cabin that could be called primitive. The dim interior looked a little familiar, which made her think it was probably one of the old line cabins on the ranch. "Where are we and why?"
"There was a blizzard. We went to put out hay and encountered a fire. You passed out and the snow was getting worse, so I brought you to a cabin we near the second hay shed." He flicked a thumb behind him. “The blizzard seems to have let up finally. Are you ready to get back to the ranch while it’s calmed?”
She looked all around as memories flooded her. Specifically the memory of his gorgeous lips and body. Clothing covered him, but that was not how she remembered him. Had she hallucinated it all? From the flu? Well of course she had. A man like him wouldn't have done or said any of those things to her.
She met his ridiculously handsome face—worried face. “How long have I been out?” Her bladder gave a painful warning that she'd better get a move on soon.
He shrugged. “Couple days.”
“Shit!” She bolted up in the bed and threw off the covers—“double shit!” She yanked the blanket back and hid her nakedness. What the hell?
He spun around. “Sorry. Your clothes are on the foot of the bed there. You were soaked and feverish. I couldn't leave you in them. And my apologies for your hair.”
“My hair?” She suddenly became aware of the cool sensation on the right of her head. Her hand flew up. “Oh my God, what did you do?”
“I had to cut it there to treat a nasty burn .”
“Burn? Holy hell, the calf. Did it live?” She looked at him and nearly got lost in those strange bright yet dark eyes. They reminded her of a lake reflecting a full moon.
He nodded. "I checked yesterday. It was singed a little but it was standing and sucking strong. Its mother really wanted to run me down." He grinned a little but quickly went serious. Then she realized what that gorgeous face was filled with. Pity. She must look like a sight. Great.
“What’d you use to butcher me with?”
He blinked. "Butcher?"
"My hair?"
"Oh." He presented the lock-blade pocket knife she normally wore on her belt. “Found it in the truck.”
She held her hand out for it and he placed it in her palm. She jerked when his fingers grazed hers. Shit. What’d he do to her, put a spell on her vagina? His touch and words seemed to all be attached to it somehow. He seemed strange from the moment she met him, but for once in her life she couldn’t afford to believe the worst like she normally would. At least she wasn’t in a box buried in a field chopped in itty bitty pieces. Yet. And judging by the way her lady parts reacted to him she wouldn't object nearly enough if he decided to do something like that.
She opened the familiar knife and got busy on her hair. At least the blade was good and sharp.
“What are you doing?”
His alarmed words made her jump and she angled her glare at him. “What does it look like? You think I should go out looking like I got the right side of my head blown off?” She grabbed blobs of hair and sawed them off until there was no more. “Here,” she handed the knife to him. “Make it as even as you can, I can’t see.”
He stood there and just stared at her like she’d lost her mind.
“What! It’s just hair for crying out loud, it’s gonna grow back.” If she hadn't been so annoyed, Sam would have laughed at the look on his face.
Some hybrid of amazement, terror and hilarity blended into a comical expression. He took the blade hesitantly and seemed to be stuck to the floor.
“Oh for craps sake, grow some damn balls and hurry up.”
He moved behind her with a sigh and the second his hands went to work she was lost, and sorry for her meanness. Unbelievably gentle, it felt like he made love to her hair. She closed her eyes, unable to fight the soothing feeling flowing through her. Damn wonderful.
“I’m done.”
She jerked her head up, realizing she’d dozed. He stared at her hair, grinning. “What? You better not have fucked it up any worse.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
“Why you looking at me like an idiot then?”
He met her gaze and held it until the hairs on her body stood at attention. “I think you’re cute.”
The term shattered the moment. Cute. Like a child. Judging by the concern taking over his expression, he was as clueless as a cumquat. Why should that surprise her? Nobody saw her as a woman. Why the fuck was that news to her? She was glad he didn’t see her as a woman. The last thing she needed was the risk of a gorgeous fake cowboy trying to win her for her inheritance and then treating her like a slave the rest of her life while he brought home real women to fuck right under her nose. Come hell or high water, she’d die an old bitter bitty before that happened.
“Turn around so I can dress. Hell, what’s the point.” She boldly threw off the blanket and stormed past him and grabbed her clothes. “Not like there’s anything’ to see.”
Despite her attempt at nonchalance, she found herself suddenly feeling very naked. She kept her back turned and quickly covered her worst feature, those sad little non-existent breasts. The second she thought it, memories assaulted her. His lips there. Sucking. Oh God. Her pulse went haywire and her nipples tightened along with some interior muscles.
She snatched the blanket and hid her lower half and spun to him, heat flooding her body. When she faced him, her heart hammered at the look in his eyes. Uh-oh. Man on fire. His eyes were hooded and sex appeal oozed from his suddenly parted lips. He looked like a predator ready to devour. Not good. And yet the look made her skin quiver and her bones tremble and melt.
Had he drugged her in order to molest her? Drugged himself in order to overcome her shortcomings? The fact that he did anything sexual to her only proved how desperate men were. They’d fuck farm animals given half a chance. For some reason, she was pretty sure there had been no sex between them, not sure how she knew that but thank God she did. Judging by that heart-stopping drawer-dripping look on his handsome face, she’d venture to say that whatever they did, the man liked it.
Weirdo.
Maybe he was a pedophile. She could've passed for a fourteen year old boy and maybe with the new hairdo it was more than he could stand.
Freak.
He suddenly seemed to realize his freakiness and spun around. “God, I’m so sorry, I…” He finished off his freaky with odd sputters and grunts. Not the sexiest sound she’d ever heard out of his mouth. A bolt of heat slammed her pelvis as she recalled a sound he had made. She sucked her breath in, remembering. She’d kissed him. Oh. My. Ranch.
She quickly crammed her trembling scrawny limbs into her jeans. What had the bastard done
to her? Her hand paused on her zipper as she recalled an image of his head…between her damn legs!
“What in God’s name did you do to me while I was sickly and unconscious?” He spun around and she had to forced her mind not to get distracted with the smooth skin of his corded muscular neck, or the memory of her lips on it. Or the way his skin tasted. She pointed her finger at him. “I’m havin some strange memories mister. If I find out that you…slipped me some mushroom juice with my medicine?” She nodded with wide eyes, finger pointing as she worked out a justified punishment for such a crime. “I’m…I’m…”
“Gonna fire me?”
She coughed a you wish laugh. “A lot worse, you’ll wished you’d never laid eyes on me, that you can be sure.”
He cracked a devastating slow grin. “I highly doubt that.”
Ohhh, shit, jiggly honey words again.
“You stay the hell away from me, you hear? I need you to help me through this catastrophe and I’m willing to pretend nothin’ happened in this little shack. You followin’ me dumbo?” Damn it he had her so flustered she sounded like a backwoods hick.
“I am.”
“And I’ll pretend you don’t have that sarcastic smirk on your…mouth.” It felt like a crime not attaching an insult to that body part, but only things like sexy, gorgeous, delicious came to her damn mind. “Are you a scorcerer? Because I’m not feelin’ like myself. Did you put some kind of spell on me?”
He looked innocent enough as he chuckled his no.
This one was good.
She pointed a hard finger at him. “I’ve got a hawk’s eye on you bubba.”
He gave her an aw shucks look. “Yes ma'am. You ready?”
Dammit she hated the way he cooperated so easily. She was used to Joe, who always and forever had some kind of comeback that never failed to be somehow disrespectful, but not directly enough that she could legitimately punch him out.
She grabbed up stuff until her hands were full and Toren did the same, without being told. “Need to get back and check on ole mashed potato for brains. Make sure he hasn’t prayed and fasted himself to damn death.”
They walked out to the truck and Sam found her hat and smashed it on her head to finish off her puny boy look. She started the old truck and grinned. “Thank you God for this faithful jalopy.” Sam jerked her gaze to the giant of a man who made a noise suspiciously like a groan. “Don’t tell me you’re gettin’ sick.”
“No, not at all. Thank you for your concern.”
She put the truck in gear and backed up, knowing where the road was by heart. “I’m concerned for my ranch mister, and if you’re sick, it dies. No offense.”
“None taken.”
She refused to meet his grin as she maneuvered the truck/snowplow through the mess, pushing snow aside with the angled blade on the front as she slowly went, carving out a road. “I hope to hell everybody’s okay.”
"Including Mashed Potato Brains?" A little twinge of what might be jealousy gave his voice an odd little lilt.
Sam glanced at him, trying to figure his angle once more. Nothing came to mind. "Joe? Can't stand the bastard. Nothing would make me happier than having him off my ranch. It wouldn't bother me a bit to put a bullet in his brain, just like I would a bull gone too mean for the cows. The only reason I haven't is it'd be too much work to bury him." She glanced at him again.
A little grin flirted around his mouth. "If I promise to dig the grave, can I get rid of the competition?" He grinned full on, fit to stop her heart.
The unexpected words accompanied with the highly lascivious reaction she had to them had her mentally scrambling to hide. Normally her mind would effortlessly block all reality that attempted to breech the protective man-wall around her, but holding that fort was proving to take actual effort with this guy. She searched the white landscape desperate for a distraction big enough to aid her. Nightmare visions of piles of dead cattle half submerged in false drifts came to her rescue, putting her mind back on task. “God, please protect my ranch, please,” she mumbled, squinting in the strange bright sun. She peered all around. “What is this, the eye of the blizzard? Such freaky weather.”
“Yes ma'am.”
She glanced at the odd man. He really felt like surreal art, and not just the look of him sitting there, but in her life at all. He seemed to feel her periodic surmising and glanced at her. She shook her head and focused on the road. “You’re weird, you know that?”
He gave a light snort. “Yeah, I kinda got that impression from you. Thanks.”
“Hey, I’m just being honest, you don’t like it, I’m sorry, it’s who I am.”
“I like it.”
She did a few double takes at him. “See? That’s what I mean, I insult you and you’re all fine with it. That’s not normal. That’s weird.”
He grinned and licked his lips, not looking her way. “I’m not the type to let other people’s opinions define me. I know who I am. You don’t. I can respect that.”
Sam snorted. “Well if that isn’t a back-handed compliment I never heard one. Suppose I deserved it.”
“It wasn’t meant to hurt you.”
Oh, there it was again, that jiggly honey feeling that sometimes came with his tone. It came occasionally and well, it was beginning to annoy the hell out of her. The way it found every secret her body possessed just wasn't right.
“Mister, that kind of thing doesn’t hurt me, I much prefer brute honesty over flattery.”
“Then you’ll be able to appreciate that I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Sam nearly lost control of the truck at his stupid words. She glared at him several times, her heart pounding like a sledge hammer. No. No way. “You lie as well as you tell the truth. Don’t you fucking start with that bullshit, or I will fire you immediately.”
“Firing me won’t change the truth darlin’” The grin she expected never materialized. His face stayed as straight as a preacher at a funeral.
“Look, insult me with truth all day long—”
“Insult you with truth? Now there’s an oxymoron. How is me thinking you’re beautiful an insult?” Still no sexy melt your drawers grin.
She was dumbfounded with his stupidity. “Wow, you sound as though you’re genuinely clueless.”
“I am,” he said incredulous.
“Are you blind mister? Maybe you’re into the young boy look? Is that it? Please tell me you’re not an escaped pedophile convict.” That had to be it.
“Wow, you’ve got yourself one hell of a complex little lady.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Which part? Little, or lady.”
“Am I wearing a flowered dress and a bonnet? Do I look like a goddamn lady to you?”
“Very much.”
She was just getting deeper into his bullshit. “Okay, okay fine. You claim what you want but don’t think it’ll win you a damn thing, I’m not impressed with flattery, but muscle merit.”
“I’ve got your muscle.”
She couldn’t stifle the laugh, not because it was funny but because of how his words affected her right between her dad gum legs. “I don’t think you ever told me what it was you all did before you came here. Is freak circus in your job history?”
“You are amazing.” Slight exasperation accompanied the muttered words. “Why do I like this?”
Sam laughed outright. “That’s a damn good question.” But she couldn’t resist the good feeling bubbling inside her. Had to be cause the sun was shining and she was back to work keeping the ranch alive, if it wasn’t already dead. And now that she had real muscle to help her, well of course that was an answered prayer and something to be thrilled over.
CHAPTER TEN
Toren watched his sexy—yes, there was surely no other term for it—wife-to-be, fly up her house steps and race through the screen door on the front porch. He looked around, absorbing the breeze and letting his mercury read the air, seeking out supernatural particles. H
e’d used way too much power and was searching for signs of a backlash. He’d done it carefully, healing her body in small doses, every hour allowing his mercury properties to bind with the sickness whenever he checked her for fever. He only immobilized it so that her immune system could fight faster. Then he slowly set random pockets of resistance around the ranch to redirect the storm. Even with all his subtlety, he knew to never underestimate an enemy.
He kept close to Samantha’s heels. A little too close. She stopped abruptly and spun around and Toren nearly ran her over. He wrapped his arms around her to keep from plowing her to the floor. Toren had to overstep to break his stride and they ended like a dancing couple, her in a dip with him staring into her annoyed face.
“My God I was about to tell you to get off my damn heels before you run me over, guess I’m too late.”
Toren couldn’t hear her words around his erratic pulse. The urge to kiss her was unbearable. He pulled her up and her mouth to his. And God, he tasted her. She squealed as he vowed she was definitely worth whatever repercussions this would earn him. She shoved against his chest and he forced himself to pull up before his tongue went to work on hers.
“Everything okay here?”
Toren stood her on her feet and turned. He eyed the dark headed human male, his upper lip raising as his mercury sniffed the contagions he carried. The vile odor was the same one that made the little cabin nearly uninhabitable.
He put his hand on Sam’s stomach and moved her behind him, ready to kill in her defense if necessary. And judging by the waves of anger and distrust rolling off her, it might be necessary.
She shoved her way out of his protective hold and came to stand next to him. “What is your problem?” She slapped Toren’s arm and then looked at the man. “Hello Joe¸ glad to see you survived. How are the men?”
Toren watched the male’s eyes slide from her face to her hair then down over her body in a possessive manner that made Toren's blood thicken like it did before battle. “You look like hell.” The man's tone held a blatant disrespect.
Summon Toren (Archangels Creed #3) Page 8
