Читать книгу Blood Wolf Dawning - Rhyannon Byrd - Страница 10

Chapter 2

Sayre Murphy stiffened at the sound of a car smoothly rumbling its way through the quiet forest that surrounded her home; a noise she didn’t often hear these days. She pulled off her gardening gloves and moved to her feet, turning away from the flourishing herb garden she’d been tending to cast a worried look toward the narrow dirt road that led right to her cabin. It wasn’t even noon yet, but the heat was already oppressive, which was why she was dressed in a pair of cutoff shorts and a tank top and nothing more. She no longer had any need to dress for company, and she sure as hell hadn’t been expecting any. Jillian and the others knew better than to show up unannounced, which meant that whoever was coming up her drive wasn’t going to be anyone in her family.

And that meant they could be looking for trouble.

She dropped her gloves beside a leafy, aromatic patch of basil and flexed her hands at her sides, confident that she could deal with any threat that might be approaching. As a Lycan witch, she didn’t possess the ability to shape-shift like the others in her pack—but with the strength of her powers these days, it didn’t matter. She could zap any person or creature that tried to get near her with a jolt of pure energy that had brought grown Lycans to their knees.

“Ohmyfreakinggod.” The hoarse words slipped past her lips as a sleek black sports car came around the last bend in the road and she caught sight of the driver. Stunned, she lurched back as if she’d suddenly been kicked in the stomach. Cian Hennessey was the last person she’d ever expected to see, and she shuddered, every blasphemy she could think of screaming through her head. Gripping the front of her tank top, directly over the thundering beat of her heart, she pushed down as if she needed the physical pressure to keep the racing organ inside her chest.

His pale gray eyes were locked hard on hers as he killed the engine, opened the door and unfolded his long, powerful body from behind the steering wheel. The sight of him had her stumbling back again, and she nearly fell on her bottom when the right heel of her hiking boot connected with the wooden edge of a flower bed.

The morning sun was behind him now, shining directly into her eyes. It was difficult to make out his features as he headed directly for her, his long-legged stride making short work of the yards that separated them. But she felt him with every part of her. The pull between them was so strong she could have counted his thudding heartbeats down to the minute, or his quickening intakes of air. The closer he came, the more heightened her sensory perception grew, and she really hoped that it didn’t work in the reverse. She didn’t want this man reading her. Didn’t want him to feel the rushing of her pulse or the heat gathering beneath her skin, warm and thick and wild.

And she sure as hell didn’t want him to know that there was a part of her breaking into sharp, jagged little pieces deep inside just because she was looking at him, breathing him in, completely and embarrassingly glomming on to every exquisite detail, after believing for so long that she’d never see him again. She knew there wasn’t a man alive who could make jeans, a black T-shirt and boots look so unbelievably good—his body appearing even harder than it’d been before, as if he’d spent the past five years engaged in brutal combat.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded as firmly as possible, when he came to a stop no more than ten feet in front of her and she finally managed to find her voice. The way his long-lashed silver gaze swept hotly over her figure, taking her in from head to toe as if he had every right to what he saw had her vibrating with pure, volcanic rage. The freaking nerve of the guy! “No, scratch that. I don’t care why you’re here. Just get back in your car and go away, Hennessey. I don’t want you here.”

He didn’t respond to her outburst in any way other than to take a step closer, and she was surprised when she found herself pulling in even deeper breaths of air through her nose, just so she could soak in that sexy-as-sin scent of his. A heady combination of the outdoors, musk and salt, it sat on her tongue like something she wanted to savor and suck on, and keep it there forever. She’d always enjoyed the way Cian had smelled, even when he carried the faint scent of cigarette smoke on his skin, but...whoa, her reaction had never been this intense before, as if she wanted to rub up against him like a kitten and get that mouthwatering scent all over her. More than a little rattled, she snapped, “Well? Are you going to stand there staring at me all day or are you at least going to say something?”

“Sorry,” he rasped, the lilting sound of the brogue she knew he’d developed while growing up in Ireland even stronger than she remembered it, making her wonder where he’d been living. His tongue touched the corner of his mouth, and his thick lashes lowered over eyes she could have sworn had started to glow like melting metal, despite the tiredness she could see in them. “I just...you surprised me,” he added gruffly. “I didn’t expect you to be even more beautiful than you were before.”

Wearing cutoff denim shorts with a threadbare tank top and scuffed boots on her feet, her long hair in a crazy swarm of curls around her shoulders and dirt probably smeared on her cheek? Um, yeah, like she was really rocking an attractive look at the moment. Shaking her head, she snorted at his lame-ass attempt at flattery. “We’ve never lied to each other before, Cian. It would be pointless to start now.”

“I’m not lying, lass. You’re...” He trailed off as his breath left his lungs on a sharp exhalation, and he cursed as he slowly rubbed one of his hands over his wide mouth. “You were always pretty, but the only word I can think of that does you any justice now is stunning.”

The scowl on her face became a little fiercer, and she wanted to tell him to take his bullshit and shove it up his backside. She knew she looked different than the scrawny eighteen-year-old he’d left behind—she was curvier now, her hair was longer and wilder, and God only knew she had more freckles on her nose and shoulders thanks to all the hours she spent outdoors—but she didn’t look that different.

And he was...damn him, he was still just as gorgeous as ever. Other than the shorter cut of his hair, he didn’t look as if he’d changed at all, even though he had to be pushing close to forty by now. His features were still chiseled, but ruggedly male, the shadow of stubble on his lean cheeks and square chin giving his already dangerous good looks an even sharper, more aggressive edge. All broad shoulders and masculine lines, ripped and lean and deliciously cut. The kind of guy that women acted like idiots over, losing their self-esteem somewhere down around their ankles, right along with their underwear.

Then there was his bravery and intelligence and his wicked sense of humor. His undeniable loyalty to his friends and family.

Well, that last bit could no doubt be scratched from the list now, seeing as how he’d turned his back on them as completely as he had on her. But before that...God, before that, Cian Hennessey could have been exactly what she’d wanted.

If he’d only wanted her in return.

“Cian, please,” she said as carefully as she could manage, praying her voice wouldn’t tremble. “Say whatever you came to say and then leave. I honestly don’t want you here. It isn’t...it isn’t good for me.”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed, his voice low and rough in a way that had never failed to make her shiver from the inside out. “There’s a lot I need to explain. I know that, Sayre. But we don’t have the time. We need to leave this place.”

“Not a chance,” she said, wondering if he’d been hit over his gorgeous head with a crazy stick. “We don’t need to do anything. I live here; you don’t. Whatever you want from me is nothing but a waste of your time. I don’t give second chances.”

Frustration shot through his narrowed eyes, making them as dark as smoke. “You never even really gave me a first chance, much less a second one.”

Amazed by those quiet, almost bitter words, she slowly shook her head, then pulled her shoulders back and glared. “That’s total crap and you know it. And don’t make it sound like you even wanted one.”

“Then don’t act like you know what I wanted,” he argued roughly, “because you never had a goddamn clue.”

Her control shredded like a cheap pair of tights, and she heard herself snarl, “You made my life hell!”

He came another step closer. “Right back at you, Sayre.”

“Then why are you even here?” she shouted, watching his eyes widen as he slowly looked her over again. Oh...hell. Her power had just slipped free of her hold with the galvanic rise of her temper, skittering around her body in a fine spray of tiny, golden sparks.

Damn it, it was just her luck that she looked like a freaking sparkler every time she lost control of her emotions these days. With her hands fisted at her sides, she waited for him to comment on the bizarre display, knowing it was shocking even in their nothing-is-normal world.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he rubbed his hand over his mouth again, almost as if he were wiping away whatever words were waiting there. Then he cleared his throat, muttered a low curse and looked her right in the eye as he said, “There isn’t time to explain, but you can’t stay here, Sayre. I’m taking you back to the Alley, where you belong.”

She blinked back at him, unable to believe his arrogance. He acted as though he had every right to just stroll back into her life and take control. “Cian, even if I wanted to go back to the Alley, I couldn’t.” Her voice almost shook with a telling tremor as she added, “I can’t stand to be around other people.”

It occurred to her, as soon as the words left her lips, that she wasn’t experiencing any pain—at least physically—while standing there with him. If he didn’t mention it, then she sure as heck wasn’t going to. But he was staring at her so intently with those incredible metallic eyes, she felt as if he were trying to take an intimate stroll through her mind, to dig out all her secret thoughts and emotions and truths, and in a sudden change of heart, she almost wished that he could. It would serve him right, because while he wouldn’t have any trouble finding her desire for him, he’d also witness firsthand just how deeply her anger and disappointment ran. And it was deep. As deep as her freaking soul.

Finally, he pulled in a somewhat ragged breath, slowly exhaled and broke the tension-filled standoff. “I went to the Alley this morning,” he confessed in a low voice. “Brody and Mic told me why you had to leave.” His tongue flicked against the corner of his mouth again, and he shook his head a little. “I didn’t know, Sayre. All this time, I thought you were still with them. That you were protected.”

“Don’t,” she muttered, realizing that Michaela hadn’t even called to warn her that Cian was coming. She couldn’t believe her sister’s friend would do that to her. The traitor! “I don’t need your pity, Cian.”

His mouth twisted, and she couldn’t help but stare, thinking about what it would be like to feel those sensual lips against hers. She might not know many things about pleasure, but she knew how to kiss. She’d kissed her share of cute boys in her teens, and had enjoyed the hell out of it, though she’d never been willing to go further than that. Turns out it’d been a stupid choice. Back then, she’d had her girlish head filled with the idea of an everlasting, romantic love when she found her life mate, like Jillian and Jeremy had. Not that their road to happiness had been all sunshine and roses, but she wanted what they’d worked so hard for and had found in the end. Wanted it so badly that she’d been willing to fight for it, too. To earn it. Cherish it. Him. Her man.

Then fate had played the cruelest joke possible, and given her the Irishman. Yes, he was the most insanely sexy and gorgeous and powerful male she’d ever encountered. But he was the worst womanizer in existence. Sayre had heard all the rumors about the pack females he’d bedded until they could barely walk straight. Of his extreme intensity. His talent, skill and stamina, and the way a woman was never quite the same after she’d experienced his bed...or any of the other hundreds of places Sayre had heard he’d taken them.

She’d wanted a man who would love her and build a life with her. And, instead, she’d been given the one who’d always looked at her as if he couldn’t quite stand to be in her presence.

She still remembered the moment when she’d finally realized why there was so much tension between them—the moment she recognized exactly what he was to her. They’d been in a roomful of people, surrounded by their friends, and she knew he’d already picked up on what was between them, or at least suspected it, when he looked over at her and caught her stunned expression. She’d been torn between agony and a need that was so strong she’d had to reach out and brace herself against the wall. Her eighteenth birthday had already come and gone, but he’d looked at her as if she were nothing more than an annoying child.

In that moment, Sayre had been so frightened of how badly he could hurt her. Of the pain he could inflict—not to her body, but to her heart. But then, standing there across from him in that crowded room, her conscience had chided her for being judgmental and not even giving him a chance. For one brief, incredible moment, hope had flooded her system, filling her with heat, and she’d given him a tentative smile. One that no doubt said, I think you’re beautiful and you’re mine and I vow to do everything I can to make you happy. Everything I can to make you want me...make you love me.

He’d answered her unspoken message by taking his phone out and holding her stare as he called someone. She was too far away to hear what he was saying, but she could read enough of the words on his lips to know he’d just called one of them. A woman he would take to his bed and bury himself inside, giving her what belonged to Sayre.

Her girlish heart had died a little that night. And then a little more with each night that went by and he lost himself inside female after female, never attempting to hide what he was up to.

Over the weeks and months, life on the mountain had become intolerable because of him. It was obvious that he had no intention of ever acknowledging the connection between them, and yet, he hadn’t liked her spending time with other males. Not even with Max Doucet and Elliot Connors, who were her closest friends, and the youngest of the Bloodrunners.

The final straw had come a few weeks after the war they’d won over the neighboring Whiteclaw pack. Finally deciding she was done with whatever stupid game he’d been playing with her, the next time Sayre got him alone, she’d given him an ultimatum: he could either stop acting like a jackass and take her virginity, or she was going to say to hell with it all and give it up to the first of her male friends who agreed. He’d been livid at her threat, but she’d refused to back down.

Instead, she’d left his ass standing there in the forest, and had walked away.

What had happened that night had been the most difficult thing she’d ever done, putting herself out there like that, but she’d been fueled by ridiculous hope that it would make a difference. A hope she’d refused to admit even to herself at the time. But now, looking back, Sayre knew she’d been gambling her pride on the idea that if she could just get Cian to touch her, he’d realize she was all he needed and that they were meant to be together.

God, she’d been such a pathetic little fool.

In the morning, she’d heard that he’d left the Alley and nobody knew where he’d gone, or if he would ever return. Her heart had been completely shattered, but within a few days it became clear that more than just her heart had been altered by his absence. And while the others had become aware of her increasing problems with her powers, none of them had ever figured out her secret—and she sure as hell never planned on telling them the truth.

Now, after everything that had happened and all the time that had passed, she could hardly believe he was standing in front of her. All the pain she’d tried so hard to bury these past years came rushing back in a surge of emotion, cutting its way through her insides like a scalpel, and she shuddered as she took another step back from him, shaking, no doubt turning as pale as a ghost. She watched his eyes darken with sympathy, and her palm tingled with the urge to slap his beautiful, faithless face.

“I didn’t know,” he said again, the rough words sounding scraped from his throat. “I would have come home sooner, Sayre. I wouldn’t have stayed away. I was only trying to—”

“Stop!” she snapped, cutting him off. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear it, because if you say you left to protect me from your big bad self, so help me, God, I just might have to kill you.”

He pulled in a sharp breath, nostrils flaring as he shoved one of those big hands back through his thick, dark-as-midnight hair. She’d never seen it as short as it was now, the ends only just brushing the back of his collar. “You know, I should have left for that reason. But I wouldn’t have. I wouldn’t have had the strength. As bad as I am, Sayre, I left to protect you from something even worse.”

“Oh, God, that’s funny,” she said with a choked laugh, wrapping her arms around her middle. But no matter how tightly she squeezed, she still felt like she teetered on the cusp of falling apart. “What could be worse than you?”

He flinched at that brutal assessment, but didn’t back down. “It’s a long story and we don’t have the time to get into it now. I just...I need you to trust me.”

“Cian, just stop,” she said with a derisive snort. “I honestly didn’t know you could be this freaking hilarious.”

“This isn’t a goddamn joke,” he muttered, giving her a look that seemed to say he was thinking of putting her over his knee and swatting her backside. And, God, did that piss her off. He’d lost the right to even think about putting his hands on her.

“You’re damned right it’s not a joke,” she seethed, crackling with so much energy she was in danger of singeing her beloved garden. “Now get the hell off my land!”

“Sayre.” He said her name on a long, drawn-out sigh, sounding too much like an adult who’d lost his patience with an unruly teen, and she felt her fury tip from emotion...right into action. Bathed in a fiery shower of sparks, she reached behind her and whipped out the gun she always kept tucked against her lower back when she was outside on her own. Just because she didn’t need the weapon didn’t mean it didn’t come in handy. Especially when dealing with rowdy human males who wandered onto her land, thinking they could cause trouble with the woman who lived there on her own. And right now, it felt unbelievably sweet to point the gleaming barrel directly at Cian Hennessey’s no-good heart.

He shot her a dry look and slowly arched one of his raven-black brows. “It’s a pretty toy,” he drawled, the lazy way he crossed his muscular arms over his chest telling her he didn’t believe for one second that she’d shoot him. “But you know that bullets won’t kill me, Sayre.”

“They might not kill you, but they’ll hurt like a bitch.”

“You really think I could believe that you’d pull the trigger? You’re a healer, not a—”

“Seriously?” she laughed, cutting him off as she unlocked the safety with a practiced flick of her thumb. “You might have watched me grow up, Cian, but don’t for an instant think that you know what I’m capable of as a woman. I’ve had to deal with more crap since you left than you could ever imagine. People change. I’ve changed. So when I pull a gun out, you can bet your ass that I plan to use it.”

His sexy mouth pressed into a hard, irritated, challenging line. “Then do it.”

She aimed for less than an inch from the toe of his right boot, and fired a perfect shot.

“Shit!” he cursed, jumping back a step. “What the hell, woman? Have you lost your bloody mind?”

“I told you I’d do it.” She kept her tone hard and cold, determined to make him see that she meant business, and slowly raised her aim. “So tell me, Cian. Do you really want to play this game?”

He worked his jaw for a few seconds, no doubt cursing her to hell and back. Then his scowl smoothed out, and his eyes narrowed to the point that it was impossible to read the look in them. Whatever he was thinking as he calmly turned on his heel and headed back to his car—the back view of his tall, powerful body damn near as mouthwatering as the front—was something he didn’t want her to pick up on. And that made her nervous.

When she called his name out, just as he was opening his car door, he looked back at her over his broad shoulder, and she gave him a sharp, icy smile. “If you like your body without any extra holes in it, don’t bother coming back.”