Just another reason to kill him now.
She clenched the sword, but couldn’t seem to raise it up.
Terrified of her power and the werewolves, and still she could not set into motion the one possible solution to her problems.
I am pathetic.
She clutched the sword so tightly she thought her fingers might break.
I can and will do this.
Livie pushed her shoulders back. She stepped to the side of the bed, concentrating on the edge of the mattress and ignoring him.
When the corner of the headboard came into view, she halted. Barely breathing, she looked at him again.
Faint shadows appeared under his eyelashes. She wondered why the long silky strands didn’t soften his features. All rugged, masculine . . . damn, she was doing it again.
Tears gathered in the corner of her eyes. Why couldn’t she just do it? Raise the sword and just kill him? He wasn’t human. It should be simple.
She was so incredibly tired. Tired of fighting the Order, tired of living on the run, tired of hiding, and so, so very tired of being afraid all the time.
She wasn’t like her sisters.
She wasn’t strong. She was weak.
She gulped back a sob, the sound audible in the room. Terrified, she froze, not daring to move. He didn’t move, not even a muscle twitch.
She had to make a decision.
Run or kill him.
If she ran, nothing would change.
If she killed him . . . for once she would be taking control.
Livie raised the sword. Her hands trembled around the hilt, moonlight glinted off the blade. She held the sword high over his neck. Briefly she wondered if she had the strength, it would take a lot of power to decapitate him.
Weak from her injury and lack of sufficient nutrition for the past year, the possibility of not having enough force to cut through his thick muscles and bone was very real.
If she somehow failed to remove his head, he would turn on her. She had no doubts. His eyes would take on that eerie swirling effect, sharp claws would emerge from his fingers. He would not hesitate to hurt her.
She could not miss. She had to strike with one blow, her only chance.
Drawing in a shaky breath, she slowly lowered the blade until it rested about ten inches over his neck. She had the angle right.
Just as she began to lift the sword again, he shifted. Her eyes shot to his face, his remained closed. His lips had twisted, his forehead wrinkled as if in pain.
Holding the sword in a tight, double fisted grip, she had the strangest urge to smooth away his pain.
Fine tremors shook their way through her entire body until even the long, lethal weapon wobbled.
It’s now or never.
Squeezing her eyes tight, she brought the sword down with all of her strength.
The blade met an unmovable object. Halting her downward momentum with such force it jarred her arms and shoulders. Shocked, her eyes popped wide to meet the fierce brown and amber swirled eyes of the werewolf, his large hand fisted over the blade, blood trickling over the edge of his palm.
Run.
Livie dropped the sword and turned. She didn’t get the chance to take a single step.
Powerful hands gripped her waist. He lifted and flung her non-too-gently onto the bed. She bounced once then he was on top of her. Her hands caught and pulled tightly over her head. He roughly kneed her legs apart, pinning her to the mattress with his hips.
His steely erection pressed forcefully into her as he growled. If they hadn’t been wearing clothes, he would already be inside her.
Dread tightened her stomach. She’d known all along that if didn’t kill him, he would turn on her. Now it looked like she would be raped before he killed her.
She turned her head, cheek pressed into the sheet, biting her inner lip to keep from screaming. Living on the run as she had, she’d been in dangerous situations before, but she’d always managed to escape. Even the bastards in The Order had only threatened her with this violation once in New Orleans.
To be used in this way, by an animal, sickened her.
Silent tears ran down her face to dampen the sheet under her skin. Perfect. She would have to cry. Show him what a coward she was, how weak and vulnerable.
He tugged on her hands, stretching her arms until pain hovered at tendons in her shoulders. She arched her neck slightly to alleviate some of the strain. His hot breath beat over the wildly pulsing vein in her neck. Did he plan to bite her too?
She bit her lip until the sharp taste of warm copper flooded her mouth.
“Why?” the deep growl vibrated along her skin.
Livie squeezed her eyes tighter, shook her head.
“Why?” His pained cry battered at her senses. A whimper escaped her lips. He shifted his grip on her hands, holding her wrists in one hand, he used the other to grip her jaw and turn her head toward him.
“Look at me!” He demanded.
His claws pressed into her soft skin, until she gasped at the sharp bite. She wrenched her eyes open, blinking the tears away. He caught her frightened gaze with his and wouldn’t let go.
The force of his rage bombarded her, his eyes burned with a dangerous force.
“Tell me why,” he shouted the words in her face.
She stared, mesmerized by the angry swirls of amber. “If you’re dead, it will all go away.”
****
Roc struggled to contain his beast.
His mate just tried to kill him.
He wanted to shout his anguish. His beast urged him to take her, to dominate her and make her his. Show her the reaction of an alpha werewolf prepared to subdue and bend her to his will. The power of the full moon surged through him, almost overwhelming him.
Muscles in his shoulders and back lengthened and doubled in size. A thick blanket of fur spread over his torso. His claws and fangs shot longer.
He trembled over her with the effort to contain his beast.
She would break if he took her now.
He knew this, somehow he knew this.
He didn’t understand what she meant or why she wanted to kill him, but he knew now that she truly did fear him.
He snapped his fangs together. Silver beams played over his body, tugging at him, beckoning him to turn. Tilting his head back, he howled his fury and agony.
Her body shook under him. The scent of her fear and despair so thick it nearly suffocated him. Utter weariness coated her face. She looked defeated.
But why? What could make her want to kill him, her mate?
He fought to hold his beast at bay, to make sense of it all.
“What do you mean?” She flinched at his snarl and closed her eyes. Shutting him out. Again.
“What will go away if I’m dead?”
“Everything,” she whispered. “My power. You.”
She wanted him gone? Fresh fury roared through him. The bones in his face shifted, his jaw lengthened. He pressed her deeper into his bed with his body. She grimaced once as more tears trickled down her skin. He wanted to lick them away. He wanted to rip her clothes off and push inside of her, feel her hot sheath surrounding him.
If he took her now it would be in force. Part of him was appalled, but part of him wanted her to feel a portion of his pain.
“Why don’t you want me? I’m your mate, damn it!” His shout echoed in the room. Centuries of longing and fresh, knife-edged agony ricocheted off the walls.
“I don’t want to mate with an animal.”
The breath left him in a quick rush. An animal? She saw him as an animal?
Roc snarled. She winced, her wrists tensed slightly in his grasp. He glanced up and saw that he’d clenched his huge hand in reaction to her words. His claws dug into the tender skin around her fragile wrists, tiny drops of dark blood welled under the tips where he pierced her.
The sight shocked him.
The pale, smooth skin of her too-thin arms glistened in the moonlight. His much thicker,
heavily furred limbs shadowed hers. The difference between them almost laughable.
He ran his tongue over sharp fangs.
Maybe he was an animal.
But he was her animal.
And she was his mate.
Roc released her jaw. He sliced through her shirt with his claws, exposing her pale skin and small breasts. She whimpered, the soft sound curling into him, wrenching him. He ignored it.
Damn, but her breasts were pretty.
Soft and pale, they were barely a handful. Dark brown, tightly furled nipples tipped the gentle curves. The contrast between the paleness of her skin and the dark caps of her nipples excited him. Just like the difference between his hands and her body. His female under him.
He brushed one sharp clawed tip over her nipple.
It stiffened further under his touch.
He leaned down and slid his muzzle along the vulnerable curve of her neck, inhaling her fear and her . . . yes, her arousal, faint but there.
He could smell it.
Tiny drops wet the fur along his cheek. He licked the sensitive tendon in her neck, when she arched beneath him, he lapped quickly at her skin, erasing her tears. More cascaded down, a silent testament to her fear. He licked again then drew back.
The articles in his magazines had it all wrong.
He wasn’t merely turned on by her nudity. He wanted to devour her. After centuries of searching, she was finally under him.
“Please,” she whispered.
He jerked his head up, but she had already turned away. Her lips pressed so tightly together, he could not distinguish the normally pink hue from the white of her skin.
Again she turned away. Again she pleaded with him to stop.
He set his muzzle just over her throat and growled.
“Look at me!” He demanded.
She shook her head, her short, dark hair rustling over his pillow. Still shutting him out. It infuriated him.
He gripped her jaw, careful now to keep his claws from digging into that silky skin. He forced her head toward him.
“Look,” he growled.
She squeezed her eyes tighter. He shook her jaw, tightening his grip slightly.
“Look!” he roared.
Livie opened her eyes, despair and a kind of dazed confusion pooled in the watery grey depths, but most of all an exhausted resignation. As if she had given up. On everything.
No.
He slid the edge of his claws along her jaw, wanting her to feel the lethal edges. She blinked at him.
He drew the sharp tips gently down her neck, scratching her racing pulse. She gasped. He deliberately pressed his thumb over the vein. It jumped under his rough skin like a trapped bird fluttering its wings.
Her eyes began to slide shut. He growled once in warning. She opened them wide.
He traced a path along her collarbones, a thin sheath of skin covered those prominent bones. She’d been forced to fend for herself for too long. And lately she had not been doing a very good job.
His paw trembled slightly. Annoyed, he made a fist until he regained control. He looked quickly at Livie, but she kept wide eyes on his face. From the glassy sheen, he wasn’t sure if she actually saw him.
Time to change that.
“Look,” he said again, softer.
A tiny frown formed between her eyebrows. He tugged her jaw, tilting her head until she could see his beastly paws on her body. Livie gulped. He waited until she raised her head and caught her gaze with his.
“Watch me,” he rumbled.
Streaks of rosy red stained her cheeks, flooding down her neck and encompassing her entire body. Fascinated, Roc traced the blush with his eyes. He stopped when he reached her breasts. Rising and falling quickly with her shallow breathing, the added color darkened the taut tips.
He dragged his claw up the small slope and around the turgid bud. She stifled a cry. He couldn’t tell if it was a moan or another plea to stop. It didn’t matter.
Knowing that she watched, Roc pulled tight on his beast until the thick, furred digit of his paw softened and reshaped into a human finger. He circled her nipple once, twice, then allowed his beast full reign so that now the honed tip of his more predatory half lightly scraped in the same slow circle.
“Ah,” Livie sucked in hard.
Roc repeated the transformation several more times. Human. Beast. Human. Beast. Slow, gentle circles around and around.
When her breathing shifted and the acrid tang of her fear lessened, he cupped her breast with his paw.
He looked directly into her startled eyes. “Mine,” he grated. A brief flash of something, maybe even anger, flickered to life before she turned her head away.
Knowing he pushed her hard, Roc allowed her to hide this time.
He pulled the tattered edges of her shirt away. The angry pink pucker at her side stopped him.
New skin had formed a ridge over the entry point of the bullet. In sharp contrast to the smooth paleness surrounding it, this skin was dark and slightly rough.
She could have died.
He set his paw over the scar.
I ran away and my mate nearly died.
Livie sucked in a sharp breath and flinched beneath his touch. It suddenly hit him that the new skin would be sensitive. His skin healed itself almost immediately, any flash of pain gone with the injury. Pain meant very little to him after all these centuries. He could barely remember his time as a pup when he healed as humans did
Looking up, he realized that his hold on her wrists stretched and arched her body, pulling on the tender area at her side. Livie had her bottom lip pinched between her teeth.
He was hurting her.
Roc released her hands. He rubbed gently at the wound and she hissed in return.
He couldn’t cause her anymore pain.
His stomach tight with unwanted memories, he leaned over the still-healing injury and dragged his tongue over the rough tissue.
She gasped once before she started sobbing, deep, soul-wrenching tears that went on and on and on.
Chapter Seven
Why hadn’t he killed her?
The thought circled round and round in her head like a race car.
She didn’t understand it. She had certainly done her level best to try and kill him. So why hadn’t he even tried to kill her? Maybe he wanted to scare her some more first.
She would have rolled her eyes if she could, but since she was entirely too busy having her second, and definitely the biggest, breakdown in the last few hours, all she could do was sob.
He didn’t want to kill her. He still wanted to mate with her.
That had to be the reason she was being held so gently, massive arms wrapped tightly around her, pressing her into his broad, thickly furred chest while she . . . sobbed and snotted all over him.
If her normally logical brain would ever start working again, she might want to question his intelligence in not killing her.
Truly, if she had his strength and abilities, she would want nothing to do with a so-called mate that threw up all over her boots and kept falling apart.
But she seemed to have lost her skills in logic, along with everything else after discovering how her mother had died.
It didn’t make any sense to Livie at all. She didn’t like the woman. Their mother had never even made an attempt at caring for the girls, and yet . . . it shook her to the core to know that her head had been chopped off while Sela watched.
She hadn’t had time to deal with that before her Element became active and an animal claimed her as mate. It was all just too much.
The final thread.
Now instead of logic, she had all these emotions.
Livie sobbed harder.
She hadn’t been a great warrior before, but at least she had tried. Ever since the last battle she couldn’t seem to even try.
Pathetic.
The air seemed to shiver around her. Now, instead of soft fur under her cheek, warm male skin cushioned her tears. For w
hatever reason, it didn’t freak her out. It should have, just more proof of how strange the shape-shifters could be.
But the strong arms tugging her closer, the hard chest rumbling in her ear and the delicious warmth of him surrounding her . . . comforted her.
Cheeze-its. I have officially lost my mind.
Eventually, she dried up. Livie had no idea how long he held her while she sobbed all over him, but finally the ocean of misery inside of her stopped leaking.
Her body boneless, her mind sluggish and her tear ducts completely worn out, Livie wondered what he would do next. It appeared pointless to guess with him. She hadn’t been right once so far.
“Finished?” Low and completely emotionless, his question still lashed at her.
Livie winced. “Um, yes,” she whispered. She didn’t bother raise her voice. He’d hear her if she stood in his front yard.
“Good.” His shoulders rolled under her. She latched onto him, afraid he meant to drop her on the side of the bed. Instead his large, very human, male hand appeared in front of her face holding a Kleenex.
“Blow.”
She did, further humiliated by the wet sounds she made. She was not used to contact with people and this sort of sharing landed way outside of her comfort zone.
Strap a gun to her side and she barely noticed it. Fall completely and totally apart in front of someone? Her stomach heaved.
I just showed him how weak I am. How vulnerable.
How did he plan to take advantage of that? He would. She knew it. The strong always preyed on the weak. And he was the ultimate predator.
He shifted her onto the mattress. As soon as he stood up, Livie began edging towards the door. He stooped to pick up a shirt, flicking a quick glance at her as he did so.
The tumultuous swirling in his eyes froze her in place. She wouldn’t make it two inches off the bed. His look promised fierce retribution if she even tried to make an escape. Swallowing hard, Livie settled back onto the bed.
Roc stalked over to a dresser on the other side of the room. He scrubbed the shirt over his chest several times before he dropped it onto the floor. Pulling open a drawer, he rifled around.
Fur, Fangs and All (The Elementals Book 2) Page 5
