by Billi Jean
She wasn’t spelling him. She wasn’t doing anything to make him feel this way other than breathing. He’d been this hot, or nearly, before he’d even met her. The poison was working. He grinned and stood, zipping his jeans and adjusting his belt. She’d have turned him into much worse than a toad if she could.
Besides, she’d been hurting. Crying. He’d seen that when he’d gone to fetch her from the back of the SUV. He’d spotted her red eyes and even though she’d tried to hide her tears, she’d left streaks behind on her pale face. Dirt smudges.
Most women in her position, he thought, would cry to ease him into releasing them. They’d use their weakness to remind him they were female.
Glancing back at the tree he’d just rested against, he spotted the glistening wetness of his seed on the fallen leaves. Nothing she could do would make him forget she was a woman, it would seem.
Maybe he could have Sorcha and use her to gain his revenge. He’d sworn not to see her hurt. Zith wanted her. He’d have found a way to get her, with or without Alex’s aid. Maybe if he protected her, in return, she’d welcome his attention.
He laughed dryly at the thought. Sorcha was not a forgiving witch. A beauty such as her? He doubted she would forgive his treatment of her so easily. Beauty came in many different forms. The landscape around him was abundant with beauty. A rainbow after a torrential downpour. The sun shining on a field when the wind whipped the stalks of barley. The mountains of his homeland.
And Sorcha.
He shook his head, starting to feel like he’d made a mistake thinking he could use the witch and remain unscathed. She did things to him, made him act in ways he couldn’t predict, which made her dangerous.
Maybe he couldn’t earn his revenge so easily.
A man could gain nothing of value without first earning it.
His father had always told him that.
Alex heard glass shatter from the direction of the truck at the same time as he scented an intruder on the air. A shout from the distance—Sorcha’s cry—had his heart contracting painfully in his chest. He froze, listening for anything more. After a second, he heard a man’s voice. Anger shuddered through him.
No one touched his witch.
No one.
Chapter Five
Sorcha had just been about ready to leave the SUV and face the danger of Alex licking her again when she’d glanced through the front windshield and had frozen. Two men, or two…immortals had stood facing her. Both had had her in their sights and the looks they’d worn hadn’t been pleasant. They’d looked hungry.
She’d locked the SUV door and had scooted to the front to lock those as well when the window near her had shattered and rained glass down on her. Someone had gripped her sweater and before she had been able to do more than scream once, they’d pulled her out of the truck. She’d stumbled, but had managed to turn and swing her fist. She’d connected with something fleshy, but the next instant, a fist that had felt like iron had hit her in the temple. The world had spun in flashes of black and white for a frightening second or two, but the SUV had held her up. She’d blinked past the dizziness at three men circling closer.
“Don’t fight us, witch. We know you have no power.”
Now how did they know that? She shook off the pain and eased along the side of the SUV to the tailgate. No way was anyone tossing her over a hood again.
“Dude, I have more power in my little finger than you will ever have in your life. Go now or I will fry you.”
Instead of scaring them, the three men laughed. Okay, that was not good. She took a step backwards and hit solid muscle. Whoever it was circled her waist with a big, beefy arm and his nasty breath hit, almost making her gag. When she tensed to try to break free, a knife’s cold edge appeared along the side of her face and she froze.
“Listen, witch. You make one wrong move and I’ll deliver you sliced so that no one will recognise you.”
She didn’t move. He rested the edge along her cheek and poised it there, scaring her badly enough that she shut her eyes and held her breath, anticipating the burn of the first cut. Instead, the man holding her grunted and her knees hit the ground painfully.
Alex!
Alex growled a curse, pulled her up and tossed her to the side—gently, but still hard enough to make her teeth clash together painfully—then went low and tackled the men as if he’d entered a rugby match. Except with Alex, he used weapons. She winced when he ripped the stomach out of one with his knife, then turned to crash his fist into another so savagely that the guy fell back spitting out teeth. The third he simply hit with his gutted friend then with an awful sound, he twisted the man’s neck. The two remaining took off and, without a backwards glance, Alex raced after them leaving her alone and reeling.
Had he beasted out? For her? She’d not seen his eyes, but the sounds he’d made reminded her of Derrick when Sammie had been hurt.
She waited, half-fearful of what was going on, until she couldn’t stand it any longer and started pacing the area, worry building as time went by. He could be hurt. He could be dead for all she knew. What should she do? Should she go after him and do—what?
“Tom didn’t get his taste, but I still want mine.”
She spun at the sound of the harsh voice and gasped as she recognised one of the immortals. His eyes flashed a sickly greenish yellow and he leered, reminding her of a jackal. He tossed his blond hair out of his eyes and without any other sign, dived for her. He hit like a bull going after red, rolling them until he had her pinned.
Goddess, please, not this. Not this. Not again!
She fought harder, but he easily caged her with his bigger body, and just as readily shoved her thighs open and rammed his thick flesh against her. He was big. As huge as Alex and Alex had been seriously daunting in size.
Unlike her wolf, this man frightened her. Alex had turned her on, made her so wet she’d nearly come just thinking of him easing that stiff flesh inside her body so she felt his sack firmly against her skin.
This man terrified her. An immortal, one this big and primed, could kill her in the most painful way a man could destroy a woman.
“Ah, I smell your heat, witch. You’ll take me, eh? All of me,” he husked disgustingly against her throat. He thrust a hand inside his open jeans.
When had he managed that?
She tried to scream, drive her fingers into his eyes or kick him in the balls—anything to stall him from getting that erection near her. She managed to claw at his face, leaving bleeding grooves along his left cheek and jaw.
“Sonofabitch, I’ll teach you a lesson, witch,” he snarled. He stopped fumbling with his pants and ripped his claws through her sweater, shirt and new bra cutting her chest in the process.
She screamed and shuddered from the pain. She gave up trying to get away and headbutted him as hard as she could. He grabbed his nose, howling, and she nearly scooted out from under him. A rock brushed her knuckles and she twisted, trying to grab it, but he caught her hand.
“Bitch, I’ll fuck you so hard for that you’ll never be the same for your wolf again.”
“Let me go! You pathetic, sick bastard, I’ll—”
The blow to her head took her by such surprise she couldn’t react. He pinned her down while she fought the blackness threatening her. Screaming, she felt him freeing his disgusting flesh and ripping at her jeans. She thrashed under him with renewed strength, trying desperately to escape.
Suddenly the sickening weight of him was gone. She scrambled back and watched, shocked as Alex cut the disgusting man’s head off with a vicious sword stroke. Nearly casting up, she scrambled away from them, trying fruitlessly to close her sweater and catch her breath all at the same time.
As she watched, Alex wiped his wrist along his mouth and glared at her. He was sweaty, covered in dirt and blood, but his eyes were so intense she stopped struggling to breathe and simply stared at him. He rose slowly from his crouch, watching her intently the entire time then stalked towards her.
Anger burnt away her fear, and trembling she pointed at him while she tried to gain her feet past the pain. He’d almost got her raped! Twice. Twice, disgusting, foul, immortal males had tried to rape her all because of him. The dam holding her temper in broke.
“You stupid, stupid, stupid bastard! Do you know how close that monster—” She broke off to point at the man at their feet. “How close he came to raping me? Do you? Do you realise no one, no one should ever be able to do that, but because of you he nearly did!”
“What? I defended you! Killed those—”
“You got me into this situation in the first place! Without you, those men would have never been allowed near me!”
He scowled at her, clearly not agreeing but for once, not threatening her. “I won’t let this happen—”
“No! You won’t let this happen again because you will release me now or I swear to Bridget you will regret ever taking me in the first place you…you…wolf!” She fell to her knees, crying so hard she couldn’t get out how miserable and scared she was and worse, how it was his fault.
Gradually through her tears, she realised Alex had moved closer and knelt near her, rubbing her back more gently than anyone ever had in her life. He eased her into his arms slowly as if he feared harming her—or her temper. She didn’t resist. How could he do this to her? Be so kind? She thought she heard him say he’d never let this happen again, but she was so upset she couldn’t make sense of him through the emotions colouring everything in shades of pain. She’d yelled at him, but in truth, it wasn’t his fault. He’d gone after those monsters to stop this—what had nearly happened. How would he have known one of those sick bastards would circle back to her? The truth was, if he’d been here, that disgusting man wouldn’t have had a chance to touch her.
The surety she felt confused her even more.
Alex abruptly froze his strokes on her back. “You’re hurt!”
“Of course I’m hurt,” she grumbled, wiping at her tears. Why couldn’t life be simple? Why would fate throw her back with a man who didn’t make sense? Why couldn’t he either hate her or…want her. “I hurt everywhere! That monster landed on me like a pile of bricks and he almost—”
He didn’t let her finish. He eased her shirt open enough to see the cuts and growled low in his throat. Before she could stop him, he pulled her closer and took her mouth with such urgency she couldn’t react.
The attack, her fear, the pain of her bruises and cuts, all dimmed in comparison to the feel of his lips on hers. She lost herself in the flavour of his mouth. Spicy, warm, male liquid heat suffused her in a kiss out of her wildest dreams. A kiss she could have drowned in—if it had come centuries before. Or if he’d not kidnapped her to use for his own gain.
With more strength than she would have ever thought she possessed, she shoved at his shoulders.
“Stop!”
He did.
She looked at him, watching the way his chest rose and fell with each of his hectic breaths, amazed she’d done such a thing to him with one kiss. Sweat and dirt still marked his face but didn’t hide the lust darkening his handsome features. He watched her closely, then raised his hand and skimmed his knuckles along her jaw.
“He hit you. Cut you. I swore no harm would come to you. Stay with me next time, witch.”
With that very wrong accusation—he’d left her damn it to go chasing off after them—he stalked to the SUV and seconds later came back with another bundle of clothes.
He hauled her to her feet and, scowling at her, pressed more clothing at her. “Put these on.”
She crossed her arms. Enough was enough. “I am not putting those on.”
His scowl turned harder. “You’re hurt, tired, you need to eat and if you dinna put those on, I will.”
That shut her up. He looked at her with a surly expression until she took the clothing, but she still demanded, “Who were those men?”
“They weren’t men.” He squinted into the distance, then back at her. “They were jackals. My guess is the mage will try to take what he wants rather than bargain for it.”
“Bargain? For me? Is that it? You’d trade me for—”
He took a menacing step towards her and her mouth snapped closed.
“Put those on, or I will. We move out in ten minutes.”
When she didn’t move, except to look around them, he shook his head. “There is no one else around. I will check from now on out. Dress, now.” He turned to the side, giving her his back and folded his arms, clearly waiting on her to change.
She swallowed her pain, both from the attacker and now from him, and simply took the clothing and stripped her useless shirt and sweater off. The slices between her breasts and stomach were shallow, but painful.
Not painful enough to have him lick them. No way. Not that he’d offered.
Amazed still by the rapid changes in him, she stared at him before quickly donning the new shirt and sweater. Where did he get these clothes? And why did he get them?
Did it matter?
He kissed you. Alex kissed you.
Why?
Not sure what to think, she examined his profile. He’d kissed her as if he’d needed to kiss her or die. A muscle in his cheek flexed. Was he grinding his teeth? In frustration? Over what? Her not dressing quick enough, most likely. Or her telling him to stop kissing her.
She didn’t know. Could she be sending out some mating vibe and not know it? Could that be why he had pressed himself against her earlier and had kissed her?
The thought hit like another slap. She might have dreamt of Alex—the man—wanting her, but she didn’t want his instincts driving him to do…what? Have sex with her? What else could it be? But that didn’t explain his gentle touch to her face. She trailed her fingers where he had and frowned at his tense shoulders.
Bridget, please help me. What is going on?
No one answered. And nothing came to her as a way out. Worse, she had no idea what to do now.
Follow Alex, she supposed.
Chapter Six
Alex was drowning. He’d come close to calling on his wolf when he’d heard Sorcha’s scream. Seeing another man on top of her, he’d lost control. He’d nearly bitten the man’s neck out and mounted Sorcha right then and there. The urges had been so primal, so intense, he’d battled them as much as he had the jackals.
He’d kissed her though. He wanted to again. He desired her mouth on him more than he wanted to breathe. More than anything else in this world—except revenge.
But she’d shoved him off. Rightly so. The jackal had nearly raped her. She’d not exaggerated when she’d blamed him for the attack. Worse, she was right. It was his fault she’d been in such a situation. He doubted she’d ever been so weak in her life. Unlike some of her kind, Sorcha did not wield weapons made from steel. She was feminine, soft in ways that pleased him.
Maybe it’s because she’s so damn feminine I feel the constant urge to possess her, hear her soft cries and feel her body skimming along mine…
How could he have kissed her like that after the attack? What had he been thinking? He’d been thinking of marking her, making sure every creature that dared come near her knew she was his.
Impossible, but true.
She muttered something under her breath ahead of him and his gaze landed on the rounded, lush curves of her ass. Such an ass could stop traffic, let alone harden a man with one swish of her hips. What would it be like to hold that tiny waist and drive into her from behind, to feel the bounce of her flesh against his hips? He shifted his cock to the side with a rough hand.
“How much longer do you propose we walk, Alex?”
The way she sniped his name made him hide a grin. He thought she did it to irritate him, but the sassy inflection in her tone, as if she were calling him names again, merely shot his opinion of her higher. Hurt, kidnapped and powerless, she still kept them on a steady pace, chattering at him the entire time.
She glanced back when he didn’t answer
and her green eyes flashed with irritation. He kept his face blank and frowned at her.
“Just walk, witch.”
“I have a name.”
He didn’t answer. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d say her name. If he did, there’d be no doubt how much he wanted her. He’d spoken her name before, each time he spilled his seed from looking at her photos. No way was he chancing saying her name now.
She sniffed and muttered he was an imbecile under her breath. She had to know he heard her. He ignored her and fought a grin at her instant huffed out breath. The woman amazed him. She didn’t seem to fear him at all. She’d get feistier when he didn’t answer. Still, her fight could get her harmed. Didn’t she know struggling often enraged the enemy?
“You hit that man with your head. You do know head butts can harm you,” he told her.
She stumbled and glanced back at him. “Not as much as doing nothing.”
The way she said that brought him up short. He’d assumed she’d never been hurt before. A powerful witch, one with her coven behind her, and in alliance with so many of the immortal species, he’d assumed she’d never known labour or strife.
Or maybe he’d not thought on it. All ancients had known hardship. She would be no different. The thought made him frown harder. Who had harmed her? Had it been recent or in the past?
He paced behind her, suddenly filled with anger, at himself or her, he didn’t know. But the rage built step by step until he needed to move faster or chance saying something to her, ask something of her that might reveal more than he wanted her to know.
He’d begun to worry his plan wasn’t as solid as he’d hoped. He’d felt a spike of fear at the thought of her hurt. He shouldn’t. She might be hurt on this mission. He’d known that going in. Hell, he might get himself killed, but suddenly the thought of her harmed because of him didn’t sit well.
“Here, let me lead,” he said more roughly than he’d intended.
Her delicate shoulders tightened under her sweater and she stepped to the side, gesturing with a frosty smile for him to pass. He wanted to kiss her until that chill melted under his lips, but he fought it enough to pass her without touching.
