Читать книгу Lycan Unleashed - Shannon Curtis - Страница 10

Chapter 3

Blue eyes. She had blue eyes. Matthias stared down at the woman lying beneath him, the ring on his necklace a hard, unrelenting circle between them. He and Zane had barely retrieved their stash of spare clothing before they’d heard the boy thrashing through the bush, and now—well, now she was beneath him. His heart thundered from the fight, from the retreat, adrenaline pulsing through his body. Arousal, hot and heavy, flooded him instantly, his system already on high sensory alert.

“Get off me,” she said through gritted teeth, her voice low and husky. She glared up at him, and his heart stuttered, just for a moment. Those eyes, so dark, so stormy blue, yet with slivers of silver that caught and held his gaze. Her nose was narrow, her cheeks flushed, the bones of her cheeks and jaws so defined, her lips luscious. That voice, that breathy, sexy voice that curled and teased at his ears and hardened his arousal. He was bombarded with sensory information. And oh, hell, her scent.

He lowered his head into the cradle of her neck and inhaled, closing his eyes as her scent filled him, washed over him, aroused him. Wild honeysuckle, vanilla and something that was uniquely her, something that drove all sense and inhibition away, something that called to his beast, that had him slowly relaxing into her.

“Ge-get off me,” she said, although this time she didn’t sound half so ferocious. She tried to buck him off her, and he exhaled blissfully at the thrust of her body against his. He skimmed his nose up her neck, to the little indent behind her ear. She smelled like...home.

The word opened his eyes, and he paused. Home? He blinked, lifting his chest off her, but still pressing her into the ground with the weight of his lower body. Focus.

“You have a choice,” he murmured, then moaned as she tried to roll, to lift him off her with the strength of those legs he wanted wrapped around his waist. He relaxed, pressing his arousal into the valley between her legs, and her blue eyes widened as she felt his erection.

She swallowed, and he watched the movement of her throat, saw the flutter of the pulse in the indentation of her neck. Her cheeks flushed, and her scent changed, drifting into something darker, sexier, spicier. Arousal. It flowed between them, though by the shock in her eyes, it wasn’t exactly welcome.

“What?” her voice came out as a husky rasp.

“Take me to your den,” he said, and waited for her reaction.

Her chin lowered. Her eyes narrowed as she gazed up at him, taking in his hair, every feature of his face. He didn’t think she meant it, but the intensity with which she stared at him made each glance feel like a caress.

“Alpine?” she whispered, a growing awareness darkening her eyes.

He nodded. “Take me to your den.”

She shook her head, pine needles rustling beneath her. “No.”

He smiled. He liked that she wasn’t a pushover, that she was prepared to stand up to him. Hell, she’d been prepared to attack Zane, a lycan half a head taller than her and a good deal heavier. The thought reminded him of his friend, and he lifted his gaze.

Zane stood off to the side, one hand holding the hooded sweatshirt of the boy, the other hand on his hip, his head tilted. His friend arched an eyebrow as he stared down at the couple lying entangled in the dirt.

“Don’t mind us,” his friend commented with a casual wave of his hand toward them.

“Take him,” Matthias said brusquely.

“No,” she cried out, trying to struggle against him. He watched as Zane turned and gently pulled the youngster along with him.

“No, wait.”

Matthias glanced down at her. Her concern, her worry for the child, was clearly stamped on her face, and he smiled with satisfaction.

“What do you want?” she looked up at him, then back at the lad. Zane had halted, his head inclined as he listened to their conversation.

“Take me to your alpha prime, and we will release the boy.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then we’ll take him back to Alpine.”

“And what?”

He dipped his head so that his lips were close to her mouth. “What do you think?” he whispered, making sure the boy couldn’t hear them. He didn’t want the lad scared any more than he already was. He had no idea what Woodland wolves thought they did back home, but imagination could be a good weapon.

Anger flared like blue fire within her eyes. He was surprised by her reaction. Surprised and impressed. Not fear. Not worry, or horror, or distaste. Anger. She was a fighter, one ready to risk her life to protect the boy. Did she have any idea how easy it was to use him as leverage? He certainly wasn’t about to clue her in. He smiled.

“Your choice,” he whispered against her lips.

Her frown deepened. “That’s not a choice,” she said, her eyes flashing.

He grinned. “I’m glad you see it my way. Take him back to camp,” he called to Zane, not removing his gaze from the woman.

“Trinity,” Jax called out, his uncertainty clear.

He tilted his head, and she growled softly, then turned her head to look back at the boy. “It’s okay, Jax. We’re going to be fine.” She gave the lad a reassuring smile, and Matthias was caught by the light in her eyes, the glow of confidence.

He listened as the guardian walked away through the forest. When they turned down the trail, she dropped the smile and turned back to fix him with a steely glare. Not just a fighter, she had the ferocious spirit of a warrior, he realized, intrigued by the visible resolve as her eyes shifted to a steely blue.

“You’ve got what you want, now get off me,” she snapped. She moved under him, trying to pull her wrists out of his grasp.

He relaxed, his chest lowering to press against hers. Her gaze flicked up to him, and he could feel her heart pounding against his. There was something in her eyes... It wasn’t fear; it was an awareness, a flare of something warmer. Desire. He could see it, he could smell it. He could feel it as her breasts swelled beneath him, her nipples a sweet torment as they peaked against his chest.

“Oh, honey, you have no idea what I want,” he murmured as he inhaled her sweet essence again. It was pure seduction, her scent. He trailed his nose along her jaw, and smiled when she rolled her head, arching her neck to give him better access. He sank into her, relishing the feel of her body against his. Her body was lithe and toned, but she was soft and curvy where it counted, and undeniably feminine.

Luscious. He wanted to dive into her, and not come up for air. He slid his hands down her arms, feeling the shape of her limbs through her lightweight jacket. She sighed, then inhaled, her breasts pressing firmer against his chest, against the chain he wore. He smiled as her legs widened, and he rolled his hips against hers. Her hands dropped to his shoulders, then delved into his hair, her short nails scoring in a delicious, sensual massage against his scalp. He was as hard as granite, utterly consumed by the need to have this woman.

He trailed his hands down to cup her breasts, and she moaned, flexing her hips against his in response. His need to have her grew. He molded the soft flesh in his hands, taking his time to learn their weight, their shape, her nipples pressing into his palms like hard little studs. He was about to combust. She dragged her nails down his back, and he shuddered in ecstasy.

“Trinity.” That’s what the boy had called her. Trinity. He tasted the name on his lips. He liked it. He rubbed his erection against her, trying to alleviate the pressure, the ache, but her heat increased, as did his need for her. She stiffened beneath him.

“God, what am I doing?” she rasped.

“Getting to know me,” he said as he nuzzled her neck.

“No.”

“Are you sure? It damn well feels like it. Your hands are in my pants.”

Her hands clenched, her nails digging into his buttocks where they’d slid beneath the band of his trousers. Then she pulled them out as though they were burning. “Holy smoke,” she whispered.

He groaned. He was burning. A molten mess of burning need. For her. For Trinity. He couldn’t remember ever feeling this intense desire, this consuming drive to become part of another lycan. Not even with Cara.

He rose to his feet, grasping the tracker and dragging her up to stand. He held her close, peering into her eyes. They weren’t cold and steely anymore; they were dark and turbulent, full of stunned dismay and smoking-hot desire. His eyes narrowed. She’d made him burn, damn it.

Nobody made him burn. He took pride in his self-control, in his self-imposed punishment, and all it took was one tackle with this she-wolf and he was ready to forget everything, forget his plans, forget Jared, forget the rest of the pack that looked to him to avenge their alpha prime’s death. All for a roll with the enemy.

He nudged her in the direction Zane had taken with the boy. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Trin resisted, turning back to face him again. She stared at the muscled figure for a moment, her body humming. Holy smoke, indeed. Like his friend, this lycan wore only a pair of low-riding camouflage pants, the button undone, revealing a tantalizing patch of golden skin before the fabric covered a noticeable bulge that seemed to match in scale the rest of him. She’d thought the other lycan was big. Good grief. This lycan towered over her, his shoulders so broad and thickly roped with muscle. Smudges of dirt and blood covered him, his short white-blond hair a stark contrast against the tanned skin and dirt. His eyes, staring back at her so solemnly, were a beautiful green.

He was beautiful. She should have been grossed out by the gore and filth, but there was something so magnetic, so charismatic, that all she could see were those beautiful green eyes, that stunning chest. He wore a gold chain around his neck, a ring resting in the dip between his chest muscles. Perspiration slicked his skin, turning his pectoral muscles and deeply-ridged six-pack into a shiny playground begging for a woman’s fingers. Her fingers. Her gaze dipped. He had an old scar that slashed across his abdomen, yet it only added to the sexy, dangerous air about him. He was muscled and toned everywhere, no spare fat. She sucked in her breath. She’d seen some good-looking lycans, but she’d never had such a bone-deep, compelling reaction to anyone before. At least, not in her pack.

But he was Alpine, and he was here, in Woodland territory. She wasn’t quite sure of the details, but she wasn’t stupid. That howl to war had everything to do with the man in front of her. She released her breath, letting it out slowly, grabbing on to some measure of calm.

“Who are you?” She took a step back, trying to put some distance, some perspective, between them. Good grief, he was Alpine. She should be howling to the skies, calling her pack—not that any would be racing to rescue her, with her current standing within the group, but still, she should be raising an alarm, and doing her utmost to fight him. Although, he was such a massive unit, and she was just a tracker; she didn’t like the odds of facing him down. Jax. She had to get back to Jax, get him to the safety of their den, such as it was with Rafe in charge.

“Matthias Marshall,” he said, inclining his head.

Cold crept over her shoulders, despite the jacket and the heat generated from their physical tussle.

“You’re Alpine’s guardian prime,” she said, eyeing the woods. Of all the damn lycans to run into, this one had to be the worst. The calm she’d so carefully manufactured now fled. She knew of his reputation—hell, all of Woodland had been talking of nothing else since that communication came through yesterday. He’d sworn vengeance against Woodland Pack for their part in the murder of his alpha prime, Jared Gray. He’d successfully applied to enforce tribal law against Woodland, and so far he’d made their lives difficult. Uncomfortable. Borderline hell. She swallowed. And now he stood before her, all six feet three inches of vengeful, ruthless, sexy—no, damn it—relentless and pumped-up guardian.

“And you’re the infamous Woodland tracker,” he commented, folding his arms.

She swallowed again. He knew who she was. She didn’t really want him to know who she was. She lived a largely anonymous life within her pack, had gotten used to being ignored. He wasn’t ignoring her, though. He tilted his head to the side, eyeing her closely.

“I’m surprised they let you out unguarded,” he murmured.

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t they? I’m a tracker.” Her position within the pack implied a certain level of competency with looking after herself. Of course, when faced with this hulking guardian prime, she wasn’t sure if even Woodland’s first-tier guardians could match him. “Besides, we’re not expecting Alpine to trespass,” she said pointedly as she folded her arms, mimicking his stance. “You and your men need to leave.” With the current tensions between the packs, their presence would start a fight that would quickly escalate, considering her alpha prime’s easy-to-fire temper.

She lifted her chin. “It’s not safe for you here. Let the boy go, leave the area and I’ll allow you the opportunity to retreat.” Rafe would probably have her hide for letting them go, but her goal was to protect the rest of the pack. Having these lycans in Woodland territory—especially this guardian prime—would result in a fight, perhaps even a war, and she didn’t want her pack hurt. Judging by the size of this lycan, there would be many casualties.

Matthias arched an eyebrow. “You’ll allow me the opportunity to retreat?” His breathless chuckle was incredulous, then he stopped laughing. He unfolded his arms and strode toward her, stalking her as she tried to back away. She halted when her back bumped into a tree. “I’m not trespassing,” he grated as he came up close to her, bracing his hands against the trunk, enclosing her in a confined space within his arms. His broad chest pressed against hers, trapping her against the tree. This lycan had no concept of personal space. She lifted her gaze from the muscled shoulders, the defined biceps that cut off any avenue of escape. She took a deep breath, and was surprised by how pleasing his scent was, all mossy and pine, with a hint of something deeper, a musk that was all enticingly male. His expression was harsh as he glared down at her.

“My men and I came here under parley,” he growled, his eyes flashing. “We came to talk. Your alpha prime broke parley and attacked.”

She shook her head, a frown pinching her forehead. “We wouldn’t...” her voice trailed off. Actually, knowing Rafe, he probably would. His impetuous actions were what had gotten them into this mess in the first place. But to break parley, to violate discussions under truce—that was an act of dishonor. She couldn’t accept that her pack would behave like that. “No...” she said, shaking her head.

He nodded. “Yes. And you know what that means, don’t you, Tracker?”

She swallowed. It meant pack war. It meant that borders would not be respected. It meant attacks and assaults, until one pack submitted to the other. It meant many lives were at risk.

He’d already managed to halt their supplies, and winter was coming. How long would they be able to hold out? They would grow hungry, they would weaken, but her pack would fight to the death before they surrendered. Rafe would see to it.

“You can stop this,” she said, striving for calm in the face of his brutal intention. “We are the same tribe. We have young, we have old—just like Alpine. What you have planned... This will ruin our pack, and it could ruin yours. Is that what you want? To kill families?”

Something flickered in his gaze, something dark, pained and sad, but then it was gone as he blinked. He shook his head as he leaned closer. “You’ve brought this upon yourselves.”

He was so big he loomed over her, crowding her. All glorious golden skin and brittle eyes. But she was a former Scion, damn it. The daughter of an alpha prime. She would not be cowed. She shoved at him, with the result of him moving not at all. She didn’t think her effort even registered with him. She tilted her head back against the rough bark of the tree.

“What happened to your alpha prime—I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “It wasn’t—nice.” No. It wasn’t nice at all. Jared Gray’s murder in a dentist’s chair had sent shock waves throughout the tribes, for a leader to be killed that way. But the dentist had maintained his innocence, and it wasn’t until her own alpha prime had coordinated the abduction of the dentist and his half-blood vampire lawyer from Nightwing territory that she and most of her pack learned of their involvement in the event.

Matthias’s eyes rounded. “Not nice? Well, that’s one way of putting it. Not nice.” He shook his head, then tugged on her belt and hauled her close to him. “Your pack wounded mine. Your pack killed my alpha prime, and now your pack will pay for it.”

She tried to wriggle away from him, but he started to unbuckle her belt. Panic shot through her, and she shook her head. “No,” she gasped, trying to halt his efforts. He was so big, so strong, and she could feel the anger roiling beneath him, as though all it would take was the faintest spark to unleash the fire of his fury. “Please, no.” She tried to escape, but he pulled her back. She felt the tug on her belt, then the release as the clasp was undone, and the leather slid out of the loops of her jeans. Her heart hammered in her chest.

“Rape won’t solve anything,” she gasped as he grabbed her wrists.

He froze, then lifted his gaze from where he clasped her, the surprise in his face dissolving into an exasperation tinged with hurt.

“I’m not— I wouldn’t—” He snapped his lips shut for a moment, his eyebrows golden slashes pulling into the center of his forehead. She could see he’d taken offense to her words. She gaped at him. Was that...was that a blush?

“I don’t force myself onto women,” he said with a quiet dignity. He wrapped the belt around her left wrist, his pec muscles rippling with the movement, then looped it around his right wrist, securing it so that they were belted together. He held their bound wrists up between them. “But I will do whatever it takes to make Woodland pay for what they did to us, and you’re going to help.”

He tugged her farther into the forest. If they didn’t have Jax, she would have fought. As it was, the thought of the young boy had her reluctantly following him.