Night of the Hawk

by Vonna Harper

  Maybe she should have remained at his place. Instead of cutting and running like some scared rabbit, she should have waited for him to return to explain his bizarre actions. Once he’d dumped on her, she’d soothe the savage beast in ways that flooded her throat—and more—with heat and in so doing establish her role as alpha’s legitimate mate.

  How in the hell could she be contemplating such nonsense? The man had captured her, a member of the press. He might not have spelled out his reasons for doing so, but she’d gotten the point. He didn’t want her writing certain things about Storm Bay. As for how far he’d go to keep her from doing her job—

  The wind had been all but nonexistent, but now a gentle breeze was rustling—oh, shit, not the breeze! For an instant she half expected a wolf or cougar to attack from the underbrush, but then Mato emerged.

  Mato, striding toward her, his eyes burning with a hunter’s intensity. Screaming, she broke into as much of a run as the damnable slippers allowed, but even as she plowed ahead, she knew she was doomed.

  All too soon she realized he wasn’t overtaking her. Instead he was matching her pace and stalking her. Glancing behind her, she chilled at the lack of humanity in his eyes, where always before they had revealed his determination and passion. Berating herself for not bringing the knife with her—could she really use it on him?—she planted one foot after the other because she had no choice.

  The too-distant highway became her salvation. Some vacationer would come around a corner the moment she stumbled onto the asphalt, stop, and let her in. Maybe her rescuer would be a trucker. Yes, a hardworking man accustomed to watching his own back who kept a tire iron or baseball bat next to him and knew how to use it. The moment the big, unshaven trucker spotted her fleeing her savage-eyed pursuer, he’d come to her defense. Swing his weapon at Mato’s head.

  The horrid image faded as she caught the distant sound of an approaching vehicle. The highway! Freedom!

  16

  Stumbling more than running, Smokey willed herself not to panic. In many respects, Mato had become an animal and as such might have little comprehension of the world around him. He was still stalking his prey, concentrating on her, not caring about civilization’s sounds.

  Though a part of her knew he wasn’t that simple, when she caught a glimpse of the dark ribbon of asphalt cut through the vegetation, she cried out in relief. Then, before she could reach the shoulder, Mato leaped at her, his arms clamping around her waist. Spinning both of them, he propelled her back the way they’d come. She screamed as he half lifted and half shoved her into the forest to their right, effectively hiding them from the unseen driver. He set her back onto her feet and then pushed, knocking her to the ground.

  More terrified than angry, she scrambled onto her hands and knees before looking up at him. Any hope she might have clung to that he wasn’t as wild as she’d feared died because those eyes belonged on an animal, not on a caring human being.

  No, she amended, not an animal, but a hawk. He’d driven his talons into his prey and was on the brink of tearing it apart.

  “Mato! Mato, it’s me!”

  A low, chilling howl rolled from his throat as he stepped closer. His legs were widespread, arms extended toward her with his fingers curled clawlike. His flaring nostrils left no doubt that he sensed her fear. Taking advantage of a prey’s terror might be a predator’s greatest strength, but how could she force herself to calm down, to meet strength with strength? The last time she’d been with him, despite everything, Mato had been a productive member of his community, a homeowner. Now he was all predator.

  Hawk Spirit’s doing.

  Hatred of the being that had taken away the man she’d believed she knew washed away much of her fear. How dare that force or element rob her and Mato of something rare, exciting, and overwhelming! Yes, the sex had been incredible, but it had been more than that—deep and life-changing. Even though a part of her screamed that she had to try to get to the road, after standing, she stepped toward him. Only inches separated them before she acknowledged the energy all but exploding in her. So she’d become primal herself, had she? Even in the possible face of death, she wanted to mate.

  His hands still reached for her; his fingers indeed reminded her of deadly talons, and his stance left no doubt she could never escape him. Fine. A female wild animal didn’t flee her mate. Instead she matched strength with strength, need with need.

  “What do you want?” she demanded because she needed to hear his voice. “Just the fuck tell me what you want from me!”

  If anything, his second growl was deeper than the first. Every bit of awareness in his system was locked on her, and yet he wasn’t looking at her. Instead she suspected he was seeing legs and breasts, a neck and a cunt, something living to mate with. And if the female wasn’t willing, she became something to take. To rape.

  “Goddamn it, no!” Propelled by fury, she slapped him with all her strength. His head snapped to the side. “It’s not going to be that, understand? I’ll never let—”

  Lowering his head, he rammed it into her midsection. Gasping, she fell backwards, arms and legs sprawled. When she could breathe again, she stared up at the naked man now straddling her. Maybe, if she was stupid enough to try, she could kick him where no man wanted to be kicked, but not only wasn’t she sure she could maneuver the damnable slippers into position, hadn’t she just learned that he met violence with violence?

  “Can you hear me?” she asked as calmly as possible. Speaking made her midsection burn.

  Something, maybe awareness, glittered in his eyes. But before she could be sure, a curtain of some kind settled over them, and she found herself looking at an unsettling gray that made her think of dense fog. Was he deliberately distancing himself from her, or had a force beyond his ability to fight come between them? Drinking sometimes did that to her. With a buzz going, she might be able to carry on a conversation, but she honestly didn’t give a damn about the other person, and she couldn’t access her emotions.

  Hawk Spirit had taken over Mato’s mind.

  Would Mato truly do whatever he was ordered to do—even kill her? The possibility was real; otherwise she wouldn’t keep asking herself the question.

  “What are you going to do?” Clamping down on the fear that accompanied her question, she tried another tact. “Are you trying to decide how to kill me?” Propping herself on one elbow made it easier for her to keep an eye on him. “Can you do whatever you’re contemplating without feeling anything? I’m no longer anything to you? Maybe I never was.”

  She’d never seen anyone become so utterly motionless. Even the occasional breeze seemed to leave his hair alone, and if he was breathing, why wasn’t his chest rising and falling? For reasons she wasn’t about to probe, she found his quiet erotic and arousing. His cock was flaccid, evidence of how remote and untouchable he was.

  “Do you remember what happened between us?” Desperate to get through to him, she tugged up on the sweatshirt hem so her upper thighs were exposed. “The sex.”

  If only he’d blink, at least that way she’d know he was present in more ways than his physical body, but his stillness continued.

  “We had sex, fucked, mated, whatever you want to call it. And although you kept my hands tied, I wanted it as much as you did. Doesn’t that count for something?”

  Her muscles had been so tense they hurt, but now they seemed to be softening, tautness slipping from them as another sensation pushed its way to the forefront. She knew what it was; she just couldn’t quite believe she was turned on by this man who might have run her down so he could kill her. Her world consisted of one thing—him.

  “You aren’t the same man I saw at last night’s meeting.” She intended the words for both of them. “Something happened to him, took him away. I don’t—I don’t know what to do with what I’m looking at now.” Feeling exposed by her admission, she debated sitting up, but maybe any movement on her part would trigged the attack instinct in him. Was that it? she conside
red. The only way she might reach him was by treating him as if he were an animal?

  The sexiest animal on earth.

  “I’m afraid of you,” she admitted. “If that gives you a feeling of power, so be it. I think that’s what you want anyway.”

  When had he started breathing? she again wondered. And he’d just shifted his weight onto his right leg. Now if he’d only give some indication he heard her—but those eyes of his remained devoid of emotion, and there was still no life in his cock.

  “If it were me, I wouldn’t be proud of myself. What’s manly about throwing a woman to the ground? Maybe you think I’ll see you as this macho hunk and fall all over myself trying to do whatever the hell it is I think you want.”

  She had to shut up! She wasn’t making any sense.

  When he reached down and grabbed the sweatshirt, her first instinct was to try to slap his hand away, but a glance at his features warned her not to try. She didn’t fight as he hauled her toward him. Holding her in place, he studied the oversize slippers, but she wasn’t sure whether he realized they were his. Neither did she know if he recognized her. Being this close to him was exactly what she didn’t want, and yet she’d give anything to get just a little closer, to press her breasts to his chest and stroke his cock.

  A man in turmoil? Or a man too far gone.

  “Where did you go?” she tried. “You didn’t even take time to dress. The way you left me, it didn’t occur to you that I’d try to leave, did it?”

  She was speaking, and yet Mato didn’t try to make sense of her words, because it took all his concentration to comprehend that he’d run down his prey. He didn’t remember making the decision to stalk her, and although he must have been responsible for her being on the ground, he couldn’t recall touching her. His vision and thoughts spinning, he struggled to make sense of the sounds and sights inside his brain. Because he’d heard his spirit’s commands before, he knew what was expected of him, and yet today he questioned instead of blindly obeying.

  Why? It had something to do with the helpless female and his body’s lonely ache. If he spread her legs and buried himself in her, if explosion and release followed, maybe then he could think.

  Struggling to ignore his spirit’s strident voice and stirring cock, he crouched before his captive. Seeing her try to shrink away filled him with power, but then he read fear in her eyes and hated himself. It shouldn’t be like that, the inner beast insisted. A predator cared nothing for the feelings of those under its control. Only domination mattered.

  Not a predator—a man, a man whose body has been fed by this woman.

  Unsure of what he had in mind, he tightened his hold on her and pulled her even closer. Doing so made the too-big garment ride further up her legs, giving him a glimpse of the fine matte of hair over her sex. She made no effort to cover herself. Neither did she try to sit up or kick free. That curling hair had been so soft to the touch, part of the whole woman.

  Kill her!

  Shaking his head failed to dislodge Spirit’s order. Giving up, he relaxed his hold but gave no thought to freeing Smokey because he needed to feel her skin, needed her close. Otherwise he might become a monster. Hunger more powerful than anything he’d ever experienced raged through him, and though he knew he was lying to himself, he refused to admit he preferred death to never fucking her again.

  She was more than his captive, more than his prey, but what?

  Confused by the labels he’d tried to place on her, he dug deep into what little there was of his mind. As he did, he took off the one slipper and threw it away because barefoot she couldn’t run. He was someplace between a man and a bird of prey, his brain splintered, and she was responsible.

  Angry at her and yet not, he roughly bent her knee outward. Grasping her other ankle, he dragged her closer so he now knelt between her legs. Her woman scent invaded him. The raging hunger directing him, he released her, but only briefly. Of its own will, his middle finger pushed her folds apart, exposing the wet opening.

  “Don’t do it, Mato, please, not like that.”

  Mato. Yes, that was his name. As for how she knew it—

  A memory. Her naked and on her knees with her back to him, her hands bound in front. He was fucking her, his cock so deeply buried he couldn’t see it. Long, thin marks marred the flawless skin over her spine, and he knew he was responsible for them. Had he forced her, ignored her pleas as he was doing now?

  Wrapped in confusion, he dipped into her. The moment he did, her muscles loosened. Now she stared at the sky with her lips parted and her breasts heaving. A woman. She was a woman.

  And he a man.

  No, he hadn’t raped her earlier; she’d wanted sex as much as he had.

  Kill her.

  Clenching his teeth, he again shook his head, but the inner voice repeated its harsh command, and he fought it in the only way he could think of by running his free hand inside her garment until he reached her breast. Yes, more softness, more of the sweet heat that was part of being human. Squeezing her breast as if it were a lifeline, he began a circular motion. Her eyes wide, with too much white showing, she squirmed under him.

  “What are you doing? Mato, I can’t—oh, god, I can’t—”

  Those breasts, in his mouth, his cock buried between them. Her body under and over and next to his, licking and kissing and nipping, drawing his cock into her mouth and holding him there until he exploded. He might kiss her in gratitude then, might tease her into her own climax, holding her over the flames until, exhausted, she begged for relief.

  Was that what he wanted of her, to hear her beg and watch her helpless squirming, to know he ruled everything about her?

  Wet heat between his fingers brought him back to reality, and he realized he now had two fingers inside her while continuing to massage her trapped breast. She kept opening and closing her mouth but was no longer speaking. Instead the sounds coming from her belonged to an animal.

  Like the one he was?

  She wouldn’t want that—what woman would? Unless he existed fully as a man, he’d lose her, and could he survive?

  Though he’d long embraced the link with his spirit, he now fought the connection. He wanted Smokey to be human, and he needed the same for himself.

  Smokey. Yes, that was her name. As for why she’d come to Storm Bay…

  Kill her.

  “No!” he cried and then started, shocked by the desperation in his voice. Turmoil tumbled in him, and although he kept his hands on her, he couldn’t concentrate on more than that. Even when she again squirmed and moaned, he did nothing more than stare at the treetops. True, a hawk been there earlier. Maybe Spirit was testing him, taking away nature’s creation until he’d proven himself worthy of the responsibility that had been bestowed on him.

  How weary he was of the responsibility! How tired of worrying about safeguarding the forest he loved.

  In an attempt to stay on top of the sensations rocketing through her, Smokey had looked at anything and everything except Mato, but now, brought back to a semblance of sanity because he was no longer sexually working her, she focused on him. She was relieved to see life back in his eyes, but she wished she understood why he’d yelled “no” a few seconds ago. She knew he wasn’t talking to her, which left only one possibility. Hawk Spirit was here in some form, maybe directing Mato’s actions, maybe trying to take control.

  She couldn’t let that happen! She didn’t dare.

  Half expecting him to slam her back onto the ground, she drew his hand off her breast. Although he studied her intently, she wasn’t sure he was fully aware of what she’d done. Then, even though she hated doing so, she planted her heel and remaining slipper against the ground and scooted backward. Pine needles and decaying twigs scratched her legs, but that was nothing compared to the wrench of losing his fingers inside her. Freedom from him made it somewhat easier to think, and yet the memory of his manipulation continued to heat her thighs. His cock carried more blood than it had earlier, which was proof
of what?

  Finally she sat up.

  “Talk to me, please,” she whispered. “Let me know you’re here.”

  His short nod prompted her to continue. “What would you have done if I’d gotten away? If I’d found someone to give me a ride, would you have given up?”

  “You didn’t get away.”

  Point taken. There was no ignoring the tension riding through him, and she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t awash in her own tension. It had taken so little work on his part to arouse her sexually, and though he was no longer massaging her breast or searching for her G-spot, she was far from putting those sensations behind her, not that she wanted to.

  “Where did you go? What prompted you to leave?”

  A quick jerk of his head warned her that she’d ventured into territory where he didn’t want her, but she had to push, had to try to comprehend. “Hawk Spirit—I can’t think of anything else to call it—was responsible, I’m sure of that. And the way you’re acting now, almost as if there are two of you…Hawk Spirit—is he, or it, here? Can you at least tell me that?”

  A darkness that reminded her of a moonless night flickered in Mato’s eyes, making her suspect his damnable spirit was behind it. If only the powerful being had a physical form, she’d take Mato’s knife to it. Kill.

  “He is, isn’t he?” she continued, abeit softly so as not to add to whatever he was going through. What kind of conversation would they have if she were dressed in her own clothes and in a familiar environment? “Your spirit wanted you to himself; that’s why you took off, right? But then he—he ordered you to go after me.” On the brink of asking the all-important question why, she stopped because icy fingers had touched her heart. “He wanted you to kill me, didn’t he?”

  Oh, god, what was that expression? She’d never seen anything like that on a human being; it was a primitive determination better suited for a wolf or lion. Even though he hadn’t moved, it was almost as if he were stalking her, closing the gap between them so he could sink his teeth into her throat.