SeducingtheHuntress

by Mel Teshco

  A booted heel clunked on the cabin’s tiny landing before the front door swung open. Her mouth dried. Her legs quavered. Breathless anticipation for a moment counteracted all else before she scrubbed away her tears and turned around.

  God, he looked worse than she did! His face was drawn, his body, in nothing more than ragged pants and a shirt, even more lean and hard. But then, what did she expect him to look like after he’d lived through a near-fatal stab wound?

  His stare locked with hers, a half-smile ghosting his lips and relief softening the hard angles and planes of his face. “You’re awake.” His head cocked to one side, his eyes appraising. “Are you feeling okay?”

  What about you? How are you doing after my attempted murder? Do you hate me with a vengeance now?

  She lifted her chin. She only hoped he hadn’t seen her tears, she hated that he might have seen her so vulnerable, so exposed. “Aside from being held against my will?”

  He shut the door behind him before removing his footwear. “Yes, well there’s that,” he agreed carefully. “But I said I’d release you. When you’re strong enough, I’ll take you home.”

  Her chest ached. Of course he would. And who could blame him?

  “I expect you don’t want me knifing you in the back,” she muttered, feeling selfishly spiteful at his apparent forgiveness, but lovelorn and confused all at the same time.

  “And I expect you’re past wanting to do that now,” he countered, dropping a trio of strung-together rabbits on his kitchen counter.

  She looked away from the gray-furred, gentle animals. “What makes you say that?”

  “You were feverish and ill and at one point you were talking and mumbling in your sleep.”

  “What did I say?” she asked, though something inside her really didn’t want to know.

  “You said my name,” he said huskily, stalking toward her. “Again and again.”

  “I…did?” she breathed. Yet somehow she knew it was true. Her subconscious wasn’t in any denial about her feelings, despite the fact she hid behind her desire for revenge.

  “Yes,” he murmured, stopping before her. “I would have found it most…interesting if not for the fact I was so busy trying to keep you alive on a broth of whatever herbs and dried vegetables I had left in the pantry.”

  She’d tried to kill him and yet he’d returned the favor by doing everything in his power to keep her alive. There was no way she’d ever be able to repay his devotion…or whatever the hell it was that made him want her to live.

  She cleared her throat. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Three days.”

  “Holy shit,” she whispered. No wonder she’d been so thirsty and weak, not to mention hungry when she’d woken. No wonder she’d looked so damn gaunt in the mirror! Her eyes assessed him, a hot flush creeping over her face and into far more private places. He’d lost weight too—was all hard sinew and muscle. And damn if he didn’t look just as edible. “You lived on broth too?”

  He shrugged. “I saved that for you.”

  Then what had he been eating? She knew a shape shifter needed extra rations after every shift, and she could bet he hadn’t followed her in his human form after she’d stabbed him and fled.

  “Please don’t do that anymore.” At his frown she added, “Don’t keep me alive at the expense of your own health.”

  He arched a brow. “When did that happen?”

  She bit into her lower lip. “What do you mean?”

  His voice turned husky. “When did you suddenly become all concerned for my well-being?”

  “I…” She lifted a hand then let it drop back to her side. “I guess when I understood you’d never hurt me and that you’re nothing like other nightmixes.”

  He exhaled slowly. “So now you’d prefer death if it means I’m not in the prime of my health?”

  “Of course not.” She looked away and muttered, “But I don’t deserve your kindness.”

  He reached out and tucked a hand beneath her chin, drawing her gaze back to his. “Actually you deserve far more than that. If only it was possible.”

  It was her turn to frown. “What do you mean?”

  He looked so serious for a couple of seconds, then he smiled, breaking the tension between them. “Never mind.” His hand dropped. “Let’s save this talk for another time, hmm?”

  He pulled off his shirt, baring hard, lean abs that were dusted in a faint trail of dark hair, which disappeared beneath his pants. His knife wound was all too visible and already mostly healed, a puckered scar that was a good couple of inches away from his heart.

  She wasn’t surprised he’d survived. She could only thank whatever deity had been looking out for him that her usually perfect aim had been so off. Revenge might have fed her all those years, but she could no longer deny that lust was her hunger now. No, more than lust…her feelings for him ran deeper than what she wanted to admit right then.

  She swallowed hard, all but swaying toward him. “What are you doing?”

  His eyes glinted. “I’m taking a bath before the water is cold. Care to share it with me?”

  Her pulse thudded, heat rushing straight to her cunt. “There’s barely enough room for even one of us,” she squeaked.

  He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his pants, his expression primal and fierce even as he drew his pants down with excruciating slowness, exposing the thickening length of his cock and the heavy balls beneath. “I’m up for the challenge. Are you?” he asked huskily.

  She licked her lips. All sanity had fled the moment he’d undressed. Goddess above, she wanted him with an obsession that she knew deep down would never wane. That this would undoubtedly be their last time together only exacerbated the need.

  She unclenched her hands. The towel dropped. “Ready and willing.”

  His feral grin sent even more lust spearing through her body and she all too eagerly took his outstretched hand before he led her to the still-warm tub.

  He climbed in first, his buttocks hard and smooth, his spine flexing and shifting. He looked up, the rough stubble on his cheeks making him even darker and more deliciously wicked.

  He was totally off limits. And she’d never wanted anything more.

  His voice rumbled with carnal heat. “Come join me.”

  She didn’t need to be asked twice. For once her petite size and grace put her in good stead. She placed her feet on either side of his torso and lowered herself down, every inch of her aroused by his hot stare, his primal need.

  He leaned forward on a growl, stopping her midway so that he could suck the tip of one of her breasts into his mouth. Warmth coated her nipple, the bristles on his face scratching the soft tissue of her breast. Then his tongue flicked and licked, jolting nerves into exquisite life.

  She exhaled noisily, barely holding still as he suckled and teased before releasing her breast with a little pop and mouthing its twin. Her lips parted on a sigh and she arched closer, pressing into him as the sparks he’d started at her breasts spread through her body as if wildfire.

  He pulled on her flesh and tongued her nipple. Her pussy flooded with moisture and her eyes fluttered closed while she drew on what little strength she had. Heaven help her, if he didn’t stop soon she’d be begging him to fuck her!

  He released her abruptly and looked up. His knowing expression became all too serious all too soon. When he opened his mouth she cupped his cheeks and covered his lips with her own.

  She didn’t want him to remind her that they’d be parting ways in the not-so-distant future. She knew the score. Not that she didn’t care. Hell, she cared way more than she wanted to admit. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to make the most of what time they had together and relish the moment.

  “Don’t speak,” she whispered when she drew back, savoring the taste of his wildness on her lips, the faint, musky scent of cat. “Let’s just…play.”

  His eyes darkened. Her hands moved, splaying over his shoulders for balance before she slow
ly descended. Her pussy touched the silky, soft water and then the rigid head of his cock.

  He shook his head before he leaned forward and whispered softly and deliberately, “Not yet, Isabella.”

  She knew right away he was letting her know he wouldn’t be tamed or trained, at least, not that easily. She couldn’t help but grin approval. He was a big cat alpha male. What had she expected—obedient silence?

  One of his hands clasped the girth of his shaft before he began to circle the head of his cock around her vulva. She sighed at the intimate flesh massaging flesh and yet wanted to scream with frustration the he was deliberately avoiding her tight, aching clit. Her breath hissed. “No. More. Teasing.”

  She lifted her hips a little then rocked against his cock, scraping and grinding her clit against him, again and again until she was moaning and Reuben was scarcely holding it together.

  Even the telltale red glint in his eyes turned her on in ways she didn’t want to think about. She was making him lose control in every way that counted. And she’d make damn sure he wouldn’t forget their time together in any hurry.

  His nearer hand parted her labia before one finger slid in deep. Her inner muscles clenched around him and she gasped a little before her channel loosened and he pushed gently in and out, his strokes then becoming faster, fiercer. Heat intensified at the friction, at the wildness within seeking release. Then he thumbed her clit and pushed her right to the edge.

  “Not yet. I…I want you inside me when I come,” she said huskily.

  Reaching down, she clasped his rock-hard shaft and slowly sank onto him. Her cunt welcomed every inch of him and she gripped his shoulders once again as she rocked up and down. Triumph surged as the red of his eyes flared, even more pronounced. She perceived his losing control to his nightmix wasn’t normal. And she basked in it now she knew he was not a killer.

  Reuben clasped her waist, urging her on, faster and faster. The water sloshed, splashing the floorboards and droplets hitting the fire and fizzling loudly.

  She leaned forward, clasping his nape and hanging on as a climax tossed her high. She called out his name, her inner muscles clenching hard before he erupted inside her. His groan morphed into a big-cat growl before his mouth captured hers, their breaths merging and their pulses thudding in unison as they slowly came back to earth.

  She wilted against him, the bath water cooling and their skin flushed and smelling of sex and sweat.

  They stayed that way for long minutes, until Isabella’s muscles began cramping from the awkward position and she had no choice but to leave the haven of his arms, however reluctantly.

  She wrapped the towel around her once more while Reuben reclined back in the tub, his stare lazily possessive as he watched her every move. She lifted a hand, then dropped it back to her side. “I wasn’t expecting to do…that, after what I did to you.”

  “If you had really wanted to kill me, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He shrugged, as if talking about nothing more mundane than the weather. “Besides, I guess I was asking for it, giving you a knife and all.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. She’d been let off all too easily. “Reverse psychology?”

  “Something like that.” And then, patently lightening the mood, he added, “I expect you’re starving.” He got out of the bath, dripping wet and completely unashamed as he stood in front of the fire and jerked his head in the direction of the rabbits. “I wasn’t able to leave you here alone to hunt for meat, at least not while you were at your worst. I thought you might appreciate some rabbit stew.”

  She dropped her eyes from his and tugged the towel harder around her. “You’re not the killer I expected you to be,” she muttered.

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  She wanted to more than compliment him. She wanted to tell him her real feelings, let him know that killing him was the farthest thing on her mind. Heaven help her, she wanted to shout out her love for him!

  His voice softened. “Especially now I realize your aversion to killing.”

  “How do you know—?”

  “The deer I brought inside,” he reminded gently. “You were appalled.”

  She nodded. “Although being hungry usually overcomes my weakness.”

  “You only ever wanted to hunt and kill a nightmix?”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “But…things have changed now.”

  He stepped toward her. “You’re strong, brave and loyal. And I hope you never try to change the real you inside.” His eyes glowed with admiration. “Isabella, I—”

  If whatever he’d been about to say had been momentous, she’d never know. They stared at one another, eyes wide and a little disbelieving at the sound of hoofbeats that drummed louder and louder. Bits jingled and leather creaked as the horses were pulled up sharply just outside.

  “Dad’s here,” she breathed. But at Reuben’s still form and ashen face, all joy fled. Alarm shot through her. “You need to get out of here,” she whispered urgently. But when he stood his ground she grew more panicked. “Damn it, Reuben, now! Before they—”

  Boots clomped on the landing. A sharp rap sounded on the door before it swung open.

  Her breath hissed. Soldiers! What the hell? How had they found out about Reuben? His kind—nightmixes and even the non-shifting black panther were protected now by order of the king—unless Reuben had done someone harm. Holy shit. Had someone discovered he’d kidnapped her?

  Her heart bounded in her chest. The soldiers would execute him!

  She stepped toward the lead soldier, who was no doubt the captain of the guards. She saw his eyes flare before he looked left then right—anywhere but at her. Guess he wasn’t used to a strange woman dressed only in a towel. Hope flickered then burned. Perhaps he was a gentleman beneath that hard veneer of a soldier?

  Perhaps he’d understand if she explained?

  She took a breath. “It’s not what it looks like. Reuben didn’t do anything wrong.”

  “Isabella, it’s not necessary.” Reuben’s words for a moment didn’t register. But what did was the quiet resignation behind them.

  The captain bowed his head before sinking onto one knee, the other soldiers behind him following suit. “Greetings, Prince Reuben,” said the captain.

  Isabella didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. She just stood there, her mouth hanging open. Her shock absolute.

  “Captain,” Reuben nodded tightly in return, seemingly totally unconcerned about his state of undress.

  “The king sent us when your return was delayed,” the captain continued, his eyes lowered and his respect fully evident.

  Reuben nodded. “Of course he did.” He let out a weary sigh. “I’m prepared for my return. Just…give us five minutes alone.”

  “Of course, Your Highness.”

  The soldier pivoted and he and the dozen or so other soldiers exited the front door and closed it behind them, giving them the privacy Reuben had requested.

  Her knees felt about ready to buckle as she looked at him, really looked. He was royalty. He was a prince. His form blurred. Bloody hell. She was crying again.

  She should have known by the way he carried himself, the arrogant set of his broad shoulders and the commanding voice that he was no commoner. While she…she was little more than a peasant with shorn hair dressed in ugly boy’s garb.

  She hadn’t thought too much about the future, especially knowing Reuben planned to let her go. But deep down she had wondered if maybe things would turn out differently and that maybe she had a chance with him. That somehow, someway, after everything that had happened they could work things out, make a life for themselves together, even if that’d meant leaving her village behind to be with him. God, she was pathetic.

  Reuben blew out a heavy breath before taking a step toward her. “I’m sorry, Isabella. I should have explained.”

  She took a step back. “Yes, you should have. I let you in on my deepest, darkest past and yet you had the bigg
est secret of them all!” She shook her head, despair biting deep. “How you must have laughed at me.”

  “No, it was never like that,” he gritted out. He sighed heavily, pushing an outspread hand through his hair. “Perhaps this way is best,” he muttered. “You’ll put all this behind you. Move on.”

  “Oh you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Everything put neatly into a box, nothing to concern yourself about.” Her hands clenched on the towel. “Well I’m sorry, Prince, but I’ve been hiding from my emotions too many years already.”

  His eyes flashed. Hope? Need?

  No. She was reading into things because she wanted them so badly to be true.

  “Then how do you feel?” he asked. “I need to know that much at least if we’re to come to some sort of arrangement.”

  Arrangement?

  Fury surged. And as if on its own volition her hand lifted. The stinging slap across his face rang out sharp and loud. “You bastard. I’m not some cheap mistress to be used and disgraced until you’ve had enough of me.”

  “That’s not what I meant at all,” he said in a strained voice. “I’m aware how much you value your freedom. I would never ask you to sacrifice that.”

  Goddess, couldn’t he see she’d fallen in love with him? Couldn’t he tell that her freedom meant nothing when she faced a lonely future without him by her side?

  “No,” she refuted, her throat tight. “You value your own freedom, not mine.”

  His jaw tightened even before she let her towel slip and she gathered what clothes she could and tugged them on. She hardly cared that her pants were ripped and caked with blood, she was more concerned with the shirt she had no choice but to borrow from Reuben. His scent filled the fabric and she wanted to tear it off her head and burrow into it all at the same time.

  He lifted a hand, as if about to argue the point. His hand dropped and he said quietly, “Allow me to take you home.”

  Gathering her pride, she looked up and said, “Thank you, but no. Just give me a horse and point me in the right direction. I’d prefer to be by myself.”