Tall, Dark and Furry (The Elementals Book 1)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  “She’s glowing Mac,” Roc stated. “Never seen a female do that before.”

  Mac ignored him, continuing to focus on the woman. She jerked her head up, those dark blue eyes widened in excitement and fear. But strangely, she did not appear shocked by the odd yellow glow, emanating from her skin.

  Mac frowned at her wrist. Her skin didn’t glow. The complex, circular tattoo on her wrist gleamed. He stared harder, that tattoo looked vaguely familiar.

  She took a slow step backward. He didn’t think she meant to try and run, but he couldn’t allow for that possibility. He needed her near him.

  He stepped forward, crowding into her personal space. When she tensed to move away again, Mac reached out, snagging her right wrist with his hand. They both tensed, but the almost painful electric shock from before didn’t return. Instead a warm, soothing hum filled him. His beast rumbled in contentment.

  Mine.

  Mac froze in shock. Could this woman be his mate? He used his grip on her wrist to tug her forward. He pressed his other hand against her back, her soft breasts pushed into his chest. His skin tingled where her tight nipples poked at him. Damn, that feels good.

  Mac thrust his face into the side of her neck. She gasped. He tightened his grip on her, refusing to let her move away. He nuzzled her neck, following the curve of her tendon up to the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  He inhaled. His beast howled. His mate. His. He had finally found her. After centuries of searching for her, she was here, in his arms.

  Mac breathed her in. The sweet aroma of figs seemed stronger on the surface of her skin. The storm clouds and hint of snow went deeper, coming from within.

  He had never known anyone, male or female, to have such a scent. It entranced him. Her smell wrapped its way through his body, around his beast and into his soul. Once they were bonded he would be able to track her anywhere.

  Not that he had any plans to let her get anywhere away from him. He’d spent centuries searching for her. He planned to spend the next few hundred years as close to her as possible. Like right on top of her.

  He shifted his hand to the soft swell of her ass. He squeezed, learning her, craving the feel of her soft skin. He forgot where they were. He forgot everything, but the feel of her and the bone-deep satisfaction of finally having his mate in his arms.

  He lifted her up, arching her hips against his erection, her weight insignificant to his strength. He imagined holding her like this when she was naked. Her full hips spread wide, his hand beneath her soft, lush ass, holding her still for his thrust. Her head tilted back, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders. Her mouth wide open, screaming in ecstasy. Her hands . . . pushing him away?

  Mac came back to earth. He lifted his head and scowled at her. Why was she pushing him away?

  A large hand squeezed his shoulder. “Uh, might wanna get a room Mac,” amusement laced Roc’s voice.

  Mac lowered the woman, but kept his hands on her waist. His cheeks heated. Every man in the bar stared at him in various degrees of shock, humor and pure male envy. His affairs in the past had been very private. Not engaged in the middle of a bar.

  But what man here wouldn’t have the same reaction after finding his mate? They were all single. The Wolf’s Den a sanctuary for the non-mated males in his clan. They could take out some of their aggression without fear of hurting anyone. Here, they were not alone.

  Now, Mac would never be alone again, mate-less and in need.

  Mac squared his shoulders. “She’s my mate.”

  Stunned silence followed that statement. Then cheers filled the room. Roc slapped his shoulder. “Lucky dog.” Mac heard both the congratulations and the longing. But if he could find his mate, then there was still hope for his friend.

  The woman cleared her throat. “Uh, excuse me. You want to explain the mate remark?”

  Mac grinned at her. So pleased, he’d cheerfully hand her the moon. A simple explanation . . . hmmm, maybe not so simple.

  The last mate outside of the clan had been found before the turn of the last century. Women had been a lot more accommodating then. A modern woman might not be quite so thrilled with the honor. Women these days tended to have careers. They also thought that men like him were part of scary fairytales.

  Hell, she could even be claimed by another man.

  “Are you claimed?”

  “Claimed? What like a piece of luggage? What do you mean claimed?”

  Mac growled. “Claimed woman. Is there a man that calls you his?”

  Dark eyebrows arched high in her face and her mouth dropped open. “Seriously?”

  Mac growled again. This was not a subject to joke around about. “Of course, I’m serious. You’re my mate. Are you claimed?”

  Mac had learned to adjust and change over the centuries to fit with the times. The entire clan had. Their very survival depended on it.

  But when it came to mates, he had no intention of adjusting his stance. She would be his.

  She took her hands off his chest. She patted her neck and throat as if searching for something. Mac leaned forward in a deliberate move to intimidate her.

  “Why, gosh no. I can’t seem to find a chain around my neck. I guess I’m not claimed.” He didn’t care for her mockery, but he relaxed slightly. He loved to fight, but he didn’t want to start their life together by killing someone she might care about.

  She leaned forward, mirroring his body. “No man claims me and no man ever will.”

  Mac grinned, delighted with her. The only thing he loved more than fighting was a challenge.

  The door to the bar opened. Six men, dressed in black stepped inside.

  “We’ve come for the woman.”

  Chapter Three

  They’d found her. She knew they would. They were relentless.

  “We don’t want any trouble. We just want the woman.”

  Fear punched her hard in the stomach. Mac might be big, okay, enormous, but those damn fanatics were always armed. She had a scar on her left shoulder to prove it.

  The walls threatened to close in on her. Suddenly, finding refuge in the bar, in a room with four walls, did not seem like such a good idea anymore. She couldn’t see an exit sign anywhere.

  If the men in this bar, these strangers, couldn’t stop them, she would be caught again. They would lock her up. Just like they had the last time.

  Sela sucked in a breath.

  The hands at her waist abruptly tightened. Mac picked her up, set her down next to him then deliberately stepped in front of her. Sela frowned at his back. He just put his body between her and danger. Was he actually trying to protect her?

  A tendril of warmth began to unfold before she stomped it back down. He’s just a mark. A convenient tool at the moment. Don’t even think of going down that road.

  “The woman is my mate.”

  Sela rolled her eyes.

  There he went again with the claiming business. Was she claimed?

  Who even talked like that? And what was with the mate thing? She didn’t think he meant that in a friendly Australian sort of way. That sounded suspiciously like a control freak to her. She’d had enough of men wanting to control her and cage her.

  Her pulse thudded. That part - her body’s crazy response to him absolutely confused her. She didn’t understand it. At all. She didn’t indulge in one night stands. She didn’t have the time or the inclination to even think about a relationship.

  Stupid hormones. Why pick this moment to show up?

  His friend called him Mac. Nothing fancy and straight to the point. It suited him.

  She ground her teeth. She didn’t want to like his name. She didn’t want to like him at all. Melting body parts aside, she couldn’t afford to start something with him.

  Chair and stool legs scraped across the floor as bodies shuffled around. She peeked around the broad back. The men were lining up and taking sides. The bad guys stood in front of the only door. The other men in the bar had all lined up so they flanked t
he large male in front of her.

  A hand patted her shoulder. She looked up at Mac’s friend, the one who joked about them needing a room. He winked at her.

  They were not taking the threat seriously. She doubted if they even thought of the men dressed in black as a threat. Why would they? Every man here stood almost a foot taller than the ones in front of the door.

  Maybe she should tell Mac about the guns and knives.

  She reached up to tap Mac on the back. The glowing mark on her wrist caught her eye. Her hormones had obviously sabotaged her mind. How could she have forgotten?

  She’d waited for years for this moment. She was no longer helpless. She could defend herself now. She did not have to live in fear anymore. She could reunite with her sisters. She could just kiss Mac.

  What would her power be? Air maybe? She could scoop up the bad guys in a twister, swirl them about for an hour or two and dump them in a treetop. Over a cliff would be better, but blood always made her slightly nauseous.

  Oh! Maybe she could call fire? She could simply burn them to ash. No blood. Of course, they would probably scream in utter agony, pleading with her to end their pain. Sweet as that thought might be, she didn’t think she could handle tortured cries either.

  Still, she now controlled some type of Elemental power. She now had a chance to hold her own in the battle against them.

  “I don’t care if she’s your mother. She’s coming with us.”

  Sela shifted so she could see in the small space between Mac’s shoulder and his friend’s. The extremists drew out guns of various shapes and sizes. She hated guns. She couldn’t look at one without an answering throb in her shoulder.

  She thrust her hand between the two muscular arms in her way, intending to make a space she could fit through. Mac caught her hand in his fist. He gently forced her arm back then pushed her completely behind him again.

  Sweet, protective . . . no, no – arrogant, he’s an arrogant male. And possibly not in his right mind since he isn’t running screaming from the guns.

  Sela tapped him on his shoulder. “You might want to let me handle this.”

  He snorted.

  Sela blinked at his back. He snorted at her? Maybe she wasn’t his size, but . . . snort at me?

  Sela punched his upper arm. It was like hitting a rock. Her fist throbbed immediately. He didn’t flinch.

  “Yeah, let her handle this. Once we have her, we’ll go peacefully, otherwise . . .”

  She peeked around Mac again. The leader of this particular group patted his gun triumphantly - the one aimed directly at Mac. All of their weapons were pointed directly at the wall of men in front of her.

  She had to act now. She would not be able to live with herself if anything happened to Mac or his friends. Mac had sparked her power. For reasons she couldn’t explain, something about him called to her. Because of him, she would never be helpless again.

  Sela stepped back from Mac. Sheesh, these men were huge. Wide backs pressed shoulder to shoulder, she couldn’t see a way around them.

  When in doubt, always go for the element of surprise.

  She edged sideways, directly behind the slightly shorter male on Mac’s right. She kicked him in the back of his knee as hard as she could. His leg collapsed. He immediately toppled to the side. Sela vaulted through the slight opening.

  She raised her hands, palms facing the men in black.

  “Shit, her mark’s active!” The leader glared at her. She’d never seen him before, but she still knew him. Knew his type. The fear in his eyes was new. She loved it, although she never got used to the pure hatred that simmered at the very core of these men. She and her sisters had been hunted their entire lives by this group. Simply due to whom they were and the legacy they held within their bodies.

  She concentrated on her mark, willing that heritage, that power to finally surface. She hoped like hell she was doing this right. Her mother had refused to discuss their abilities, other than to say how much she hated it and her daughters who carried the Elements.

  Concentrate. No time for a therapy session.

  Warmth immediately pooled in her stomach. Not unlike her reaction to Mac. The energy spread upward, pouring through her chest and down her arms. Her palms burned. Her mark glowed brighter.

  “She’s trying to use her power,” the leader yelled. “Shoot her, but don’t kill her.”

  Half of the men shifted their weapons toward her.

  Sela gulped. Shit, please let me have fire.

  A vicious growl sounded at her back. Large hands grasped her waist. She knew instantly who held her. She didn’t have much time, once Mac moved her out of the way, the bullets would hit him.

  It was now or never.

  Hoping and praying she was doing this right, she thrust her arms forward, hands open wide, pushing the power out.

  A loud boom echoed in the bar. Torrents of rain poured down through the bar.

  You have got to be kidding me.

  The leader laughed and pulled the trigger.

  The room blurred. A heartbeat passed, then two. Sela waited to feel the vicious pain of a bullet tearing through her flesh. She didn’t feel anything. And why was she looking at bar stools? No.

  Mac had taken the bullet for her. Somehow he’d managed to twist her around and take the bullet for her. Agony, stronger than the physical stab of a gunshot wound, seared through her.

  It didn’t make sense. She didn’t know him.

  “Stay here.”

  She could have wept in relief. He didn’t sound in pain. Had the bullet missed him somehow?

  She turned to face him. Brushing her hand over her eyes to clear away some water, she found herself staring at his back again. How did he move so quickly?

  Clumps of sopping hair obscured her vision. She shoved her hair over her shoulders. Gun shots erupted, the explosions slightly muffled by the pounding rain.

  Sela screamed. Mac didn’t flinch. None of the men in front of her did. In fact they began moving towards the men with the guns, guns that fired continually at them.

  She sloshed forward, yelling at Mac. She doubted he could hear her over the rain and blasts from the guns. Why weren’t these guys falling over and dying? Why didn’t they shout in pain, or acknowledge in some way they were getting shot?

  The gunfire ceased abruptly.

  Sela froze. The rain fell in such a torrent she could not see six inches in front of her.

  Terrified shrieks filled the silence. Screams and pleas rang out through the unrelenting downpour. She could not imagine the men from the bar making those sounds. Were the men in black making those god-awful noises?

  Vicious growls punctuated the cries. Sela stepped back, her hair standing on end. It sounded like a pack of feral dogs or wolves. Was that a bone breaking? What the hell was going on?

  She splashed forward again and ran into an immovable object. Mac’s warm, strong arms pulled her against his chest. She didn’t know how she knew it was him, but she didn’t question it. She’d learned long ago to rely on her instincts.

  Sela frantically patted him over. Terrified he’d been injured. Holes pockmarked his soaked t-shirt. Stupid man. She lightly touched his skin beneath one of the holes. No wound. She checked other openings. No wounds of any kind. Mac was wet, they were all drenched and dark splotches stained his shirt around the holes, but she could not find any actual blood or a cut or anything to indicate he had just faced six men with six large guns.

  “I don’t . . . I don’t understand.” Her voice quivered.

  Mac tightened his arms around her. He leaned in close and rubbed his cheek against hers. Water seeped between their skin. His hand cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes, amber flecks sparked in their depths. How odd, she could have sworn his eyes were completely black. She blinked away drops of water. He jerked his head upwards.

  “I’m a little confused myself.”

  Incredibly, she blushed. After everything she’d been through tonight, she was embarrasse
d.

  Some Elemental I am. Wow. I made it rain. Oh joy.

  “Any idea how to make it stop?”

  She lifted her hands off his chest. If pushing outward activated her power then the opposite should bring it back under control.

  She raised her palms toward the ceiling and imagined herself as a vacuum. Her skin burned, warmth ran down her arms, through her chest and back into her stomach. The rain abruptly stopped.

  She clenched her fists. Her mark ceased to glow and the warmth in her stomach faded. She could feel it, however, lingering inside, waiting.

  He shook his head, scattering water all around them.

  “We need to talk.” He didn’t give Sela a chance to respond. He scooped her up high in his arms, turned and waded towards the front door.

  Sela looked around, but didn’t see the fanatics anywhere. She glanced down. Copious amounts of red swirled on the flash-flooded floor. Several scraps of fabric floated on top of the bloody lake. She gulped, jerking her head up she concentrated on the view from the tabletops and up. The other men from the bar, in perfect health, looked around in varying degrees of puzzlement and disbelief.

  “The insurance company is never going to believe this one.” The bartender wrung a stream of water out of his shirt.

  She pressed her face into Mac’s warm, chest. She inhaled his slightly musky scent through his wet t-shirt. For the second time tonight she was completely soaked again. She hated being wet.

  Fate was one hell of an ironic bitch.

  Chapter Four

  The door slammed shut behind them. Sela pressed closer into Mac’s chest. It might be late June, but in the northern states that did not equate toasty. Bordering on frigid, the chill in the air penetrated her wet clothes. Again.

  Mac tightened his hold, his warmth blanketing her in a heated hug.

  Her head spun, thoughts and emotions whirling around and around. She’d already been through the wringer tonight, and it looked like this ride on the tilt-a-whirl might be ramping into turbo speed.

  First things first, she’d spent her entire life on the run. She needed to know.

  “What exactly happened to the MIBs back there?”