Читать книгу Awakened By The Wolf - Kristal Hollis - Страница 8

Chapter 2

Adrenaline shot through Brice’s body like rocket fuel burning through his veins. His heart pounded to near rupture. Using the bed as a springboard, he leaped over the broken lamp pieces and landed solidly on his good leg.

“You can’t outrun me.” Even with his handicap, in his wolf form Brice could outpace a human.

“Watch me.” The lithe woman dodged him around the living room furniture.

His mouth did not have permission to spread into a ridiculous smile. It did anyway. Growing broader and more outrageous by the second.

She sprinted to the front door. He heard the lock click and the door swung open. He lunged to capture her. His chest slammed into her shoulder, forcing his breath out with a harsh oomph!

Brice turned her during the tackle so that he took the brunt of their fall. God, it was good to feel playful again. And she was the best kind of playmate. Soft and warm, with just the right amount of pluck.

“Let. Me. Go.” She shoved him with more strength than he expected. He struggled to maintain his hold.

“Take it easy,” he grunted. “I won’t hurt you.”

She head-butted his shoulder. Every time her hair swept his skin, desire—hot and demanding—tore through him. Totally inappropriate and ill-timed considering the circumstances.

His wolf nature didn’t care. This woman wore his clothes, slept in his bed and wrestled him with the strength of a she-wolf in heat. To a Wahya male, her behavior was an open invitation.

However, fear marked her scent, not desire. Brice needed to tamp down the carnal thoughts before his primal instinct overruled his intellect and he gave her a real reason to be frightened.

Finally he flipped her onto her back.

“Get off me!” She landed a solid punch against his nose.

Brice’s head jerked.

“Damn, that hurt.” Hurt like hell.

Before she could do further damage, he latched onto her hands, pinning them over her head. She kicked his shin. Thankfully it wasn’t his bad leg or his instinct would have been to retaliate rather than to restrain.

“Calm down before you get hurt,” he snarled, using his body to flatten her to the porch.

He gave in to the instinct to snuffle her hair. In one long, indulgent breath, he inhaled without expectation, though he desperately wanted to smell something. Anything. Even dirty dandruff was preferable to nothing.

To his utter disbelief, a soft, feminine fragrance teased his nose. Convinced he imagined the scent, he sniffed a second time to be sure, moving from her provocative red curls to the dimpled spot just behind her ear. As he breathed in, her sweet, luscious musk filtered through his body, warming him like beams of sunshine.

“God, you smell good,” he gushed like an eager pubescent boy trying to get to second base.

“Get away from me.” The woman bucked, and the rub of her pelvis against his crotch ignited a craving that would culminate in an all-out home run if she didn’t stop.

“Be still,” he rasped. “I only want to smell you. But if you continue thrusting your hips at me, I’ll lose what control I have and do more than scent you.”

She went limp, although the daggers in her eyes remained unsheathed.

Tired, horny and more than a little confused, Brice appreciated the reprieve. He wanted to gorge on her intoxicating scent without battling her and his super-charged libido. “Don’t be frightened, Sunshine. I won’t hurt you.”

He rubbed against her. She was soft, spirited, with a mouth-watering scent—a combo like that could bring a wolfan to his knees. “You have no idea how happy I am to smell you.”

A droning thud in his head joined the possessive thump in his chest. Resonating one beat, one word. Over and over and over again. Mine. Mine. Mine.

Oh, no. No, no, no. Fuck no.

“This isn’t happening,” he mumbled.

“You got that right.” She jammed her knee against his crotch.

Excruciating pain screamed through Brice’s groin. The air swooshed out of his lungs. His body curled into a fetal ball.

The house was dark. His vision grew darker. Still, he saw the triumphant gleam in her eyes a second before she escaped.

* * *

Brice Walker, my ass!

Cassidy Albright jumped down the front porch steps. She had no idea who that dirt-streaked hobo was, but he certainly wasn’t the Brice Walker she knew.

Well, had known from a distance.

She sailed past her car. The old clunker wouldn’t have started on the first crank anyway, and she’d have been a sitting duck if the naked imposter turned out to be a dangerous intruder instead of a drunken resort guest.

Shoes crunching the gravel driveway, she sprinted toward the Walker’s Run Resort a mile and a half down the mountain. An easy stretch for Cassie, who’d earned medals in track. Each time she ran, she simply imagined herself running until the layers of her mother’s bad luck and bad reputation peeled away, leaving Cassie free and clear.

She had a way to go before that happened. Only one more semester of college and Cassie could start over. In a town where Imogene Struthers’s past wouldn’t wreck her daughter’s future.

She rounded the first curve of a hairpin turn. A creepy vibe spiderwebbed across Cassie’s skin. She glanced back at where she’d been. The waning three-quarter moon provided enough light to see a man wasn’t behind her, but a very large, very hungry-looking wolf.

Cassie’s heart slammed against her chest before spiraling to her feet. She could outrun a man on a dirt road. Outrunning an animal presented an entirely different race.

She veered into the woods. Zigzagged through the trees. Zipped around bushes. Leaped over a fallen pine. Sweat coated her skin. Her breaths grew hard, laborious. A stitch gnawed at her side. Her leg muscles began to burn.

Another downed tree lay ahead. Slightly larger than the last, though not so big that Cassie couldn’t clear it. She sailed over it with ease.

The landing was harder.

Her foot slipped on a patch of moss. The belly flop to the ground unleashed an explosion of pain in her chest. Her lungs, shriveling into two tight balls, squeezed out every molecule of air and then some. She couldn’t catch her breath, cough or even wheeze.

Cassie didn’t want to die, not with a new life finally within her meager grasp. She forced her chest to expand. The muscle beneath her breastbone gave one final spasm and relaxed. Whereas she’d had no breaths before, they now came in rapid-fire succession. In zero to five, she went from starving for oxygen to drowning in it.

Wolf drool on the back of her neck was imminent if she didn’t get moving. She swallowed two giant mouthfuls of air, the way she did when plagued by hiccups, and locked her elbows to push up. All the adrenaline that helped her run had tanked.

“No, no, no.” Frantic, she patted the ground, searching for a rock, a branch. Anything.

Out of luck and out of time, Cassie faced the wolf with the only weapons she had. Her hands and sheer grit.

He approached, head hunched lower than his shoulders. His thin black lips mocked her with a menacing grin.

“Nice wolfy,” Cassie panted over her heart’s rampant beat.

His ears perked up and he tilted his head, taking his sweet-ass time to assess the most delectable spot to munch first.

A low rumble rolled through the woods. His hungry gaze lifted and a snarl drew back his snout, revealing very large, very pointy teeth.

Cassie had no hope of winning an outright wrestling match with an animal of his size and bulk. Gouging his eyes might give her a slim chance of survival, and slim was much preferable to none.

Before his nerve-numbing growl chased all her bravado into the pit of her stomach, Cassie steeled her thumbs.

The wolf sprang.

Cassie screamed. She didn’t mean to, but some invisible force seized her vocal cords and wrenched loose the armor-piercing shriek. Apparently the same malevolent force also screwed her eyes shut, because she had to pry them open to see.

The wolf now paced behind her. Ears flat against his head, he snapped at the woods. A strip of fur bristled along his spine, and the fluff of his tail stretched behind him, arrow-straight.

With his attention diverted, Cassie scooted backward to get away from the wolf. Her heart pounded so hard and loud that she feared the drum would draw the wolf’s attention from the rustle in the woods.

The wolf hunched forward, ready to pounce at whatever emerged from the forest.

It was now or never. As she labored to stand, an ear-shattering squeal sliced through the night.

She jerked toward the commotion. A huge blur barreled past the snarling wolf and skidded to a halt at her feet. Hot breath steamed her bare legs.

Cassie didn’t move.

Neither did the angry sow.

The wolf, however, plopped on his haunches, and the tips of his fur shimmered with silvery light.

Poof!

Just that quick, the wolf vanished. Hunched in his place appeared a fully-grown naked man.

Not just any naked man.

The naked man whose balls she’d coldcocked.

This isn’t happening.

Obviously she’d whacked her head and was suffering from a massive delusion. That was good news, right? Delusions couldn’t hurt her. They weren’t real. Just figments of her imagination.

Well, um, her naked delusion stood. Displaying all his glory.

Cassie squinched her eyelids shut. He isn’t real. He isn’t real. He isn’t real.

Satisfied her temporary insanity had passed, she drew in a calming breath and opened her eyes.

The naked delusion limped toward her.

Whether he was real no longer mattered. Cassie sprang to her feet. The startled sow danced around her legs. The lack of traction on the soft, damp earth caused Cassie to lose her balance. She landed on her hands and knees, face to snout with the hog.

Cassie sucked in deep, measured breaths to slow her erratic pulse. Unfortunately, her heart and lungs were running a marathon. She swayed from a wave of lightheadedness.

“Leave her alone, Cybil.” The soft, tantalizing command of the wolfman’s Southern baritone hummed through Cassie’s body with the hypnotic power of the Pied Piper. That fairy tale hadn’t ended so well. Cassie didn’t want to share a similar fate.

The hog pivoted toward the wolfman. A twitch of her curly tail, a determined squeal, and she charged with the gusto of a matador’s bull.

Wolfy wasn’t as quick on two legs as he had been on four furry ones. He thudded to the ground.

“Dammit, Cybil. How long are you going to hold a grudge?” Shoving the sow aside, he lumbered to his feet. Undeterred, she circled around and plowed into him again.

Transfixed, Cassie watched them tussle. Crazy as it seemed, she found herself rooting for the wolfman, who was trying not to hurt the disgruntled pig. Cybil wasn’t as careful.

In the scuffle, she stomped his leg. A silent scream of pain twisted the wolfman’s face. Cassie’s chest tightened in sympathy, though she couldn’t fathom why.

Cybil backed away, allowing him to sit up and rub his calf. After a few long-drawn breaths, he opened his palm. The sow shuffled close enough for him to scratch beneath her chin. Then he murmured in her ear.

Cassie wasn’t one to ascribe human attributes to animals, but the hog’s expression appeared contrite. Cybil snorted, flicked her tail and trotted back into the woods.

A werewolf pig-whisperer. Imagine that.

Cassie rubbed her temples. She didn’t want to imagine anything of the sort. She wanted her sanity to return.

The wolfman peered at her with the same stark expression the wolf had given her. He—whatever he was—crawled toward her, his movements smooth, stealthy. Deadly.

Cassie jumped up and ran. For all of ten feet before she was falling.

Oh, no. Not again!

The wolfman cradled her as they hit the ground.

“Damn, you’re fast.” Rolling Cassie onto her stomach, he immobilized her with the full length of his hot, hard body.

“Get off me.” The more she squirmed, the more a wicked heat licked her skin. Fear was supposed to be cold and clammy, so what the heck had ignited those fiery flashes?

“Easy there, Sunshine.” His deep, rich voice dripped like sickly sweet sorghum.

Suddenly Cassie remembered a spilled bottle of syrup. Tasted the sticky sweetness on her fingers. Smelled the gingerbread cookies baking in the oven. Heard her mother’s tinkling laughter in the sunny kitchen of the run-down apartment where they had lived when Cassie was seven.

Is this what it means to have your life flash before your eyes when you’re about to die?

“Are you listening?” The wolfman’s insistent growl dispelled the memory. “I don’t want a repeat of what happened on the porch.”

Cassie’s survival skills abandoned her. She tried to buck him off, but her body was too busy mooning over his mesmerizing accent to respond.

“I’ll release you on two conditions. First, don’t run. The woods are too dangerous for you. Second, keep your knees away from my groin. They’re too dangerous for me. Agreed?”

Considering her position, did she have a choice?

Though she couldn’t bring herself to verbalize consent, Cassie nodded. His weight lifted, yet the heat from the intimate contact remained. She sat up, rubbing her arms.

He squatted just beyond her reach, yet close enough to catch her before she could make it to her feet if she tried to run. Twice he’d caught her and not harmed her. Three times might break her luck.

Moonbeams filtered through the trees, giving just enough soft light to make out the concern etched in his features.

“Are you hurt?” His polished tone contradicted his appearance. Bits of leaves and pine needles stuck out of the waves of his thick black hair. A scruff of dark whiskers framed his determined jaw. Dirt smudges accented the sharp angle of his cheeks. A smear of blood crusted beneath his nose.

“No.” Cassie struggled to remain calm, rational. “Well, maybe.”

Nothing ached, yet something unbalanced her mind. Had she imagined the wolf or the transformation? Because the man invading her personal space was no delusion.

The hard, sleek build of his scarred, muscled body pulsated with a raw, masculine strength and a primal vitality that made her shudder despite the heat flashing through her body.

“Either you’re hurt or you aren’t.” Even though his expression remained neutral, she heard the frown in his voice. “Which is it?”

“I might’ve hit my head when I fell. I’m seeing things.”

The wolfman was on her in an instant. Hands in her hair, fingers caressing her scalp. His urgent yet gentle touch sparked an odd tingle that seeped into dark places no man had touched. Unsure of how to handle the startling titillation, she ducked out of his reach.

“No bumps or cuts on your head.” Sitting back on his knees, he continued the inspection without the use of his hands. Inch by inch, his squinted gaze stroked her skin. Lingering here, then there as if memorizing the details of her body he couldn’t possibly see with clarity due to the filtered moonlight.

The air between them became charged. Her muscles clenched to resist the palpable energy. The tension only magnified his phantom touch.

It wasn’t the first time a man had looked at her with carnal interest. It was, however, the first time Cassie didn’t feel threatened.

His scrutiny complete, his focus flashed to her face and fell to her breasts. The longer he stared, the more her budded nipples strained against the sweat-dampened baseball shirt clinging to her chest.

Heat rushed to her face; pride kept her from turning away flustered. Instead, she returned the same intense inspection. Where her attention landed made her body burn as though she’d fallen into an inferno.

In the bedroom, she’d intentionally looked everywhere but there. Now she couldn’t drag her eyes away from the long, meaty shaft arrowed toward his flat abdomen rippled with hard, sleek muscle. The temptation to reach out and touch it just to see how one felt in her hand was dangerous. And stupid.

“Why do you think you’re hallucinating?” the wolfman asked, yanking her attention to his masculine mouth and the full, strong lips pulled taut in thought or pain or simple contemplation.

“One second I saw a wolf. The next you were squatting in his place.” Pushing aside distraction, Cassie’s mind grappled for a logical explanation of his transformation. “Either I’m seeing things or you pulled a whammy of a magic trick on me.”

“I’m neither a hallucination nor a magician. I’m Wahya,” he said as if that should explain everything.

“Please tell me that’s a society of illusionists.” Please, oh, please. Oh, please.

“Wahyas are wolfan shape-shifters. We can change forms at will.”

Cassie’s heartbeat failed, yet the rush of blood rumbled in her head, and she wondered if the noise was the sound of madness.