Читать книгу Wolf Tales - Kate Douglas - Страница 8

Xandi rolled over, blinking against the pale morning light, and encountered the hard, cold side of a snow bank. Startled fully alert, she sat up, suddenly aware she was in a tree-shaded rest area at the side of the highway. She recognized it immediately. Her car had gone off the road just a few hundred yards beyond.

Shaking her head, bemused, she looked down at her clothing. One mitten was missing, along with her purse, but otherwise all was as she’d been wearing yesterday when she’d had her wreck.

Yesterday? But…She struggled slowly to her feet, and stood, body trembling, trying to remember. She was immediately aware of a tenderness between her legs, that glorious morning-after-a-good-fuck feeling she hadn’t known for much too long.

She let out a shaky sigh. Who the hell had she had sex with? Good Lord, she never did anything like that. Ever! Even weirder, why was she back here, at the side of the road?

Maybe you were just a lousy lay…

No. She knew better than that. Whomever she’d fucked had obviously enjoyed himself every bit as much as she had. She vaguely recalled awakening during the night, feeling searching lips on her breasts, thick fingers buried deep in her pussy.

Thinking about it made her nipples tingle. She knew they were standing up like pencil erasers because they rubbed against her clothing, and she felt the sensation spiral clear down between her legs.

Xandi took a deep breath of bitter cold air, watched the thick cloud of steam as she exhaled, then turned and looked both ways, up and down the long highway. It was still early in the morning, barely past dawn. The sky glowed deep pink in the east, and a coating of ice covered the snow, so that everything sparkled as if covered with pink and gold glitter.

There was no traffic. One pair of headlights far down the road was the only vehicle in sight. She watched the lights grow slowly closer as a thin, wintry sun rose over the mountains and cast a silver-and-gold glow across the snow-covered treetops. Shadows loomed deep and dark in the woods.

The car lights grew brighter, closer, until a large black Mercedes with tinted windows pulled into the turnout. The car sat there for a moment, the engine running and sending thick columns of steam from the exhaust pipe. Uncertain whether to be frightened or glad, Xandi waited, watching. Suddenly the engine shut down. Silence once more engulfed her.

After a moment, the driver climbed out and bowed slightly. He was small and dark skinned, wearing a neat gray uniform with a cap. Xandi bit back an almost hysterical giggle. What a surrealistic trip this has been! A car wreck, lost in a winter storm, amazing sex with a mysterious stranger. And now she was getting rescued by some scrawny little dude in a limousine?

“Miss, would care for a ride?” The driver’s voice was very soft, the accent clipped, precise and very British.

Still shaking her head at the incongruity of the situation, Xandi brushed the snow off her pants legs and walked closer to the car. Well, she’d wanted something different, hadn’t she? The driver opened a back door. Xandi smiled and thanked him, then slipped into the dark interior of the Mercedes.

He was almost certain she’d scream the moment she realized she wasn’t alone. He held very still, hardly breathing, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the dim light here in the backseat. His heart pounded an erratic drumbeat. He was sure she heard it. He rubbed his thumbs over his fingers, wishing there were some way to make his palms stop sweating, some way to calm the racing beat of his heart.

He shouldn’t have done this. Should never have risked so much. But leaving her on the side of the road had been the most difficult thing he’d ever done in his life. Hell, they’d barely gotten a mile away before he realized he couldn’t—wouldn’t—let her go.

She took a great deal of time fastening her seat belt, straightening her coat, brushing her thick hair back from her eyes. Slowly she turned and looked at him. Her beautiful gray eyes widened.

He waited for the look of disgust. The fear. The realization she’d been rescued by a monster.

Her lips parted. She frowned, then smiled. Her hand came up, as if to touch his face.

He grabbed her wrist. Not that. He wasn’t ready for that.

“It was you, wasn’t it? You’re the one who rescued me.”

Her voice was soft, the inflection showing just a trace of the Northeast. He suddenly remembered that neither one of them had spoken a word the night before.

No words.

Moans. Whimpers. He’d made her scream, made her sob. Made her cry. Made himself cry, for that matter. But no words.

He cleared his throat, opened his mouth to speak. To tell her she was wrong. That she must be thinking of someone else. Someone whole. Unmarked.

Human.

She pressed her finger against his mouth, as if to explore. He jerked away from her touch.

She blinked in surprise, but she touched him once more, her hand cupping the side of his face. “I know it was you. Don’t deny it. Pheromones? Your scent…I’m not sure how I know, but I do.” She laughed. It was a surprisingly harsh sound. “My pussy knows, that’s for sure. I’m getting wet. My muscles are already finding a rhythm—your rhythm—tightening, relaxing….”

The image filled his mind, all that moist flesh, ripening, preparing for him. His sac tightened, his testicles crawled up close to his body. He felt heat and the pulsing throb of the big artery feeding blood the length of his cock. Felt himself stretch, grow. Lengthen.

Her words shocked him. Surprised him.

Turned him on. Dear God, it was all he could do to restrain himself. Didn’t she understand what she was doing? What she’d already done? He wanted to rip her clothes off, take her here, in the backseat of the car, with Oliver just on the other side of the tinted glass. Fuck her until she couldn’t see straight.

Couldn’t see him. “You don’t know what you’re saying.” He had to swallow and clear his throat. “You don’t know who I am. What I am.”

She smiled, an easy, natural smile that lit up her entire face. “Ah, but I do. You’re the man who saved my life. The man who made love to me all night long.” She blinked. He was surprised to see her eyes fill with tears. “You’re the man who made me feel more feminine, more desirable, than I’ve ever felt in my life.”

He reached up and turned on the overhead light, then grabbed her by the shoulders. His laughter sounded harsh. Painful. “Look at me. Really look at me. Does this turn you on? This face? Yes, we had sex—in the dark. Your back was to me, your eyes turned away. Could you look at me, see me as I am, when I shove my cock up that wet pussy of yours? Would you still want me when I’m tied with you, when my cock swells and traps you against my body, holds you to me like a bitch in heat? Holds you so you have to stare into this face, see this body? Could you do that, little girl? Could you fuck me without the fantasy?”

He growled, released his grip on her shoulders and turned away. “That was inexcusable. I am sorry. I will have Oliver take you home. Please give him your address.”

Stunned, Xandi could only stare in silence as he first snarled at her, then turned away in disgust. With her? No, she thought. Most likely with himself, though why he should think his amazing countenance would put her off…No, it didn’t put her off, not at all. The effect was exactly the opposite.

The words he’d said in anger rocked her body. A sensual litany, a promise of unimaginable pleasure: when my cock swells and traps you against my body…when I shove my cock up that wet pussy of yours…could you fuck me…fuck me…fuck me…

Oh, God, yes!

She’d sensed it last night, this link, this need she felt for him. Of course, then she’d merely thought him a man. A normal, albeit very sexy, man. Suddenly the passion, the unimaginable lust, made sense. There was something beyond human, beyond normal desire, with this person. Something her body craved, her mind needed. Something about him that made her whole.

She studied his profile in the dim light of the overhead lamp. He was obviously not completely human, though what he was couldn’t possibly be. She glanced at his hands. A man’s hands—large, the knuckles big and bony, the nails neatly trimmed, the hair thick across the backs of his fingers.

She remembered the feel of that silky hair. She’d clasped his arms against her just last night. Held him tightly while he palmed her breasts, caressed her between her legs.

Loved her. Passionately.

Now that she could see him, even though he was dressed in a pair of dark pants and a black turtleneck sweater, she realized most of his body must be covered with the silky fur. It wasn’t black, as she’d first thought. No, it was more a deep gray tipped with silver. The hair on his head grew long, falling to his shoulders, and it was the same dark gray, also tipped with silver.

What she’d thought was his beard was so much more. The same silver-tipped fur covered his face, his jaw…and what could only be described as his muzzle. His nose was dark, his lips almost black. When he curled his upper lip, she saw sharp, white canines.

Even his ears were animalistic, triangular, held close to his head, lying back against his skull as if he were angry…or frightened?

Still human, yet very much the beast. An elemental creature, so out of place in the backseat of a Mercedes limousine.

She was a fool to want him. He wasn’t human. He wasn’t natural.

He was so much more. So very much.

He turned slowly around until he sat facing her. His hands rested on his muscular thighs. His shoulders rose and fell as he took deep breaths, straining the seams of his sweater. She felt his soft sigh as much as she heard the whisper of sound.

“Your address? Please, I would like to take you home.”

“No.” She shook her head, wrapped her fingers around his right wrist. He started to tug his hand away, but she held on. “I want to go home with you.” She looked up at him, forcing him to see her as a woman. A woman who was more intrigued than disgusted with the beast that was so obviously a huge part of him. “I want to make love with you again. I want…” She choked up. Couldn’t force the words out. “I don’t want to lose what you have given me. Please? Take me with you. Whoever—whatever—you are. I need to know…more. Do you understand?”

He frowned. His silver-tipped brows drew together over that long, lupine nose. His eyes glowed amber, practically golden in the dim interior light of the car, the pupils narrowed to black, diamond-shaped shards. “No,” he said, glancing down at her fingers wrapped tightly around his arm. “No, I really don’t understand. Look at me. See what I am. Not who…What.”

She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. Let it out. Sensed, somehow, her entire future rested on her answer. “I see what you are, though I have no explanation. I want very much to know who you are.” She tightened her grip around his wrist and slowly turned his hand so that it rested palm-side up on his thigh.

“You can’t deny that you felt it, felt what happened between us last night.” How does one explain a link, a connection, so powerful, so…pure? She placed her left hand in his, studied the difference in their colors, the huge discrepancy in size.

She’d known last night that the man holding her was big. She’d had no real sense of his actual size. His hand dwarfed hers, his shoulders were broad, his chest muscles rippled through the black turtleneck. She couldn’t even guess at his height, but figured he was well over six and a half feet tall.

She raised her chin and studied his face. Even sitting, she had to look up to meet his eyes. At five feet ten inches, Xandi dwarfed many of the men in her brokerage firm. It was unusual for her to sit close to a man and feel small and petite.

He said nothing, merely watched her with questions in his eyes as she studied him. Suddenly the memory of him taking her, of him seating his huge cock between her legs, of being stretched as he thrust deeply inside, filled her mind. Her pussy clenched in reaction. She felt the warm spiral of desire strike at her very center, knew she must be soaking through her panties just from the thought of making love with this man.

She wondered if he smelled her arousal. If his instincts and abilities were that defined…if he was as much the wolf as he appeared.

He stared at her for a moment longer, his nostrils flared, his eyes narrowed, then he leaned forward and tapped on the darkened glass. The window rolled down barely enough to allow conversation. “Oliver. The woman has chosen to accompany me. Take us to the cabin, please.”

The driver nodded, the window silently closed, and the big car rumbled to life. Xandi leaned back against the soft leather seat, folded her hands in her lap and shut her eyes in a moment of thanks. Suddenly, she felt his fingers tentatively brush over hers, his callused fingertips slip across the back of her right hand. She held her breath. Slowly, he turned her hand palm up, then closed his fingers firmly, clasping her hand in his. She exhaled, a long, slow breath. Held tightly to his hand. A sense of peace washed over her body, a sense of—finally, after years of waiting—finding her way home.

Xandi was aware of changes in the road—rough pavement giving way to smooth and then becoming rough again—and of two different times when the car slowed and must have passed through gates, but the tinted windows hid almost as much of the outside from her view as they did the inside from anyone trying to peer in.

Mostly, she was aware of the warm hand in hers, the fingers wrapped firmly about hers. She sensed the inner tension in the man/beast sitting next to her. Neither of them spoke, yet she’d never been so aware of another person in her entire life.

He radiated energy—controlled energy—as if his body might explode at any moment. She wondered what thoughts must be racing through his brain, wondered if he felt regret, anticipation…desire?

She should have been terrified. Should have felt some sense of fear, well aware she was essentially acting as an agent in her own abduction. Instead she was pure anticipation and untempered lust. Her body ached with need for him. She felt as if she’d shed some unneeded husk, another body or soul that had ruled her heart and mind for much too long. Shed it like a lizard’s skin, leaving her fresh and clean, waiting…wanting.

In all her thirty years, she’d never known this sense of rightness before. This pure knowledge that, following this man, learning from this man, was the thing she’d been created to do.

Xandi blinked. The car had stopped. The door next to her companion opened, and Oliver stood to one side. “Sir?”

Her rescuer slipped his hand free of hers and got out of the car, his movements unbelievably graceful for one so large. He held his hand out to Xandi. She tightened her fingers around his and let him pull her gently to the door, then to her feet. She felt awkward and unsure, standing in the bright sunlight in front of a huge redwood home.

She wasn’t ready to look at him. Stared instead at the lovely structure practically growing up out of the snow-covered ground.

It was certainly no mere cabin. Decks wrapped around the home and stretched into the trees, and massive windows reflected the bright morning sun. Snow-capped mountains peeking out above the dark green forest framed the entire scene like an ad for an expensive ski vacation.

Snow covered the ground, so it was impossible to tell what the landscaping might be like in warmer weather, but Xandi imagined azaleas and rhododendrons, spilling masses of color, along with deep beds of ferns.

She was aware of the silence, more so once Oliver climbed back into the limo and drove along a curved driveway to beyond the far corner of the house. Finally, after she had exhausted her view of the home and surroundings, she turned and carefully appraised her host.

In the cold light of day, he was beyond beautiful. She should have felt fear. Most likely, if she had chanced upon him on a darkened street, she would have run screaming in panic. Now her perception of him was colored by knowledge. The tenderness of his kiss, the gentle strokes of his fingers…the controlled thrust of his massive cock.

“I haven’t properly thanked you,” she said, looking directly into his amber eyes. The thought crossed her mind that she could never grow tired of looking at him, of being near him. “I would have died out there. How did you find me?”

He dipped his chin, acknowledging her thanks with a tilt of his head. “I was in the forest. I sensed you nearby, sensed your spirit fading. It was little enough to carry you back here.”

“I was miles away from here.”

He took her arm and led her up the broad steps without speaking. When he reached the front door, he paused and looked down at her, at her fingers clasped tightly around his forearm. “I often travel far at night. It is my way.”

“You saved my life.”

He opened the door and waited for her to precede him, closed the door, then turned and leaned solidly against it as if it were an anchor. His hands still grasping the handle, he studied her for a moment. She couldn’t read the emotion in his amber eyes, but there was a sense of quiet desperation about him.

“No,” he said, his chest rising and falling with a very deep breath. “You may very well have saved mine.”