The hallway stretched out before her, the floors and walls seeming to tip. Air became thin, and her lungs seized tight. It was all she could do not to retch on the spot. She reached for the wall, tripping over her feet as her vision began to dim.
The ominous thud of footsteps on the stairs jerked her out of her paralysis, and she scrambled down the hall, clawing at the wall as pure terror overtook her. She flew around the corner, skidding into the kitchen, reaching for the knives when a set of strong arms wrapped around her from behind.
A scream of pure terror was ripped from her throat. The darkness inside her exploded outwards, allowing her to fall through the rough arms holding her. She lunged for the knives again, then cursed when she had to go solid to grab them.
“Annora!”
She whirled, brandishing the blade, then blinked when she saw it was Xander. He lifted his hands, then slowly edged closer and gently caught her wrist, prying the knife out of her numb grip.
“You’re safe. I’ve got you.” He dropped the knife on the counter, then tugged her close, until she was wrapped in his arms. “Breath in my scent. Put your hands on me. Know that I’m not him.”
His gruff voice was soothing, while she panted, struggling to breathe.
“Listen to my heartbeat. Match my breathing.” He tightened his hold, wrapping himself around her, blocking out the world, leaving only the two of them. “Nothing will take you from me.”
It took a good five minutes for her senses to return, and she felt foolish. “I’m sorry.”
Xander’s arms loosened, and she immediately pressed her head against his chest, not ready to face the world.
“The basement must be a trigger.” He cupped the back of her neck firmly and held her in place, his fresh sea breeze scent helping to banish the nightmare.
“I can’t go down there.” She was terrified she would never surface again.
He bent, reaching down to lift her behind the knees, sweeping her up in his arms. He walked down the three steps into the living room, then sat in the recliner and settled her on his lap, tucking her head under his chin. “We’ll begin training you early tomorrow morning in the backyard. It’ll take a while, but you’ll learn to function without drowning in your emotions.”
She nodded, but when he slowly straightened as if to stand, she clung to him, her heart rocketing against her ribs at the thought of him leaving.
“Hold onto me.” Xander balanced her on his knees, then grabbed the back of his shirt, drawing it over his head.
She loosened her hold enough for him to toss the shirt away, and then stiffened at his nakedness, not sure what to do with herself. When he kicked back the recliner, she squealed when she was flung forward and ended up plastered against him. He grabbed her behind the knees, then lifted her, until she was straddling him.
When all she could do was gape at him, he just shrugged. “You need a distraction. Me. I guarantee the last thing on your mind will be the basement or your uncle.”
Chapter Twelve
“Conceited, much?” Annora snorted, but couldn’t argue the fact that he had a right to be.
The man was ripped, a living piece of artwork.
She glanced down at the large expanse of Xander’s chest, and didn’t have the first clue what to do. “What if I do it wrong?”
He swept his fingers gently back and forth across the back of her hand, from fingertips to wrists and back again, watching her reaction. “Do you enjoy that?”
“I’m not sure.” His touch left her skin tingling, her body aching for something she couldn’t name. He raised an eyebrow at her, as if she’d challenged him.
“How about this?” He lowered his hand slightly, then dragged his fingers lazily up and down her leg from knee to hip.
After the second pass, she closed her eyes and shivered. When he stopped, her eyes popped open, and he picked up her hand then placed it against his chest. He reached up, cupped the back of her neck, sinking his fingers into her hair and massaging her scalp. “While fists can hurt, touch can also heal. A simple kiss can bring enormous pleasure.”
Annora was seduced by his words as much as his touch. “Then kiss me. Show me there’s something besides terror and pain in the world.”
He sat slowly, the chair folding them together, until she was plastered against his chest, their mouths only inches away. He licked his bottom lip while he scanned her face, his eyes dark with hunger. She stiffened at his closeness, unable to stop herself. Though the desire was still there, underneath lingered a thread of doubt.
She waited for his hands to tighten, his lips to turn cruel. She barely managed to keep her pulse in check, a tiny part of her that her uncle hadn’t destroyed reveling in the attention.
But the asshole shook his head. “If you want a kiss…take it.”
Her eyes unconsciously dropped to his lips, and she suddenly worried that a single kiss might consume her. With his closely cropped beard covering half his face, he looked devilishly handsome, a man who knew what he wanted and demanded everything in return.
A demand she wasn’t sure she would survive.
He was so far beyond her experience, she had no idea how to respond. The line between desire and danger was a razor’s edge, but she couldn’t make herself move away. He drew her in a way the others didn’t. The threat of violence lingered around him, resting just below the surface—that readiness calling to something within her.
He lazily surveyed her with those teal eyes of his, and she knew he didn’t miss a detail—her fear…her desire. Wanting to escape, she noted the scars along his body, and she traced her fingers along a nasty one on his shoulder. “I thought shifters were impervious to blemishes. Don’t you heal too fast to have them?”
The only scars she had were on the inside, deeper and uglier than she cared to admit. Besides the scars on his back, his torso had more than a few silvery marks, along with a couple more wicked injuries.
His eyes narrowed slightly, then he relaxed back into the seat, separating them. Though she instantly missed the heat, the urge to ghost him gradually faded. She needed to get used to others touching her. Vanishing in front of strangers was a sure-fire way of drawing attention to herself.
“Life-threatening wounds can leave scars. Injuries infused with the right combination of metal and poisons is another way.”
Which might account for a few, but it wasn’t all of them. “And?”
He dragged his fingertips over the inside seam of her jeans absently. “Our beasts only wake up after puberty, some even later. While a few injuries might heal when we first shift, sometimes there are just too many.”
“Your father?”
He only shrugged.
Darkness stirred, and she wanted to find the man who would beat his own child and show him true terror. Her nails bit into her palms as she clenched her fists, and she relished the pain. “I hope your father got what he deserved.”
“Yes.” He tucked his hands behind his head, leaving his body on display. Muscles shifted, and she couldn’t help the way her eyes followed the movement, effectively distracting her.
“Touch me,” he whispered huskily.
Her eyes flashed up toward his again, noted his hands firmly locked behind his head, his biceps flexing distractingly. He was giving her all the power, and she couldn’t resist the temptation. She placed her hands on his stomach, fascinated by the ridges of muscles that bunched beneath her touch.
Wanting to experience everything, she shifted, and her knees hit the chair just right, folding them together. Her hands slid up his torso, leaving her face just inches away from his, her chest plastered against his once again. He moved fast, his hands settling around her waist, then he slowly slid them up her back, and she arched into his hands, enjoying the feeling of him exploring her body.
When he cupped the back of her neck, darker memories stirred, and she stiffened, her lust instantly cooling.
He immediately sensed the shift, and lifted his hands and placed them on th
e arms of the chair, gripping the leather firmly. “You have permission to do whatever you want with me. Familiarize yourself with my body. When we start training tomorrow, we will be touching everywhere. Any hesitation in a fight can get you killed. You need to get use to touching…practice on me.”
She loved watching the way his lips formed the demand.
He expected to be obeyed.
Her hands immediately came to rest on his shoulders, almost of their own volition. She waited for the panic, the need to lash out and escape, but he made no move to retaliate, just gazed at her with endless calm.
The latch to the front door clicked. Just as she recoiled, his hands gripped her hips, and he stood in a single move, quickly shoving her behind him, and she stumbled to get her feet under her so she wouldn’t tumble to the floor.
* * *
Xander cursed that he’d allowed himself to be distracted by a slip of a girl, the pounding lust turning to pure aggression as he braced to launch himself at anyone who dared think they could take her from him.
His skin rippled with the need to shift and protect what was his…Annora.
He wasn’t sure if she was their pack grá, but a desperate hope burned in his gut at the possibility. He thought he was beyond redemption, beyond saving, until she exploded into his life.
He was a fuck ’em and leave ’em type of guy, purposely choosing women who knew the score, who didn’t stir his emotions. Women he used when he had an itch that needed to be scratched and nothing more.
He didn’t mind his solitary, lonely existence.
None of it mattered…until her.
His father beat into him at an early age that emotions were a weakness, and he’d never allowed himself to get close to any female, never allowed himself to want more, but that changed when she nailed him in the balls the first time he ever saw her. Since then his beast had been fascinated with everything about her.
She was broken and damaged, her dark brown eyes haunted, which only added to her beauty. He’d only meant to comfort her, but it took just one touch for him to want more. He wanted to make her whole, show her the world wasn’t all evil. He wanted to cherish her, give her something she’d been denied her whole life…the knowledge that she mattered.
She wasn’t a killer like him. The spark of life still flickered inside her. She was a fighter, a survivor.
It took one to recognize one.
He refused to let the bitterness and jealousy that consumed his father rule him. His job had become his life, but he realized now he wanted more than violence and death.
He wanted her.
As footsteps pounded in his ears, he glanced at the delicate girl who had endured horrors the others would never understand, and he would do whatever was necessary to make sure she survived.
* * *
Logan walked around the corner, then halted abruptly at whatever he saw on Xander’s face. It took a full minute before Xander collected himself, turned on his heel and vanished without another word.
Annora stared after him in concern, but Logan shook his head. “Give him a few minutes to cool down.”
Annora tore her eyes away from his retreating back, then looked up at Logan, noticing for the first time his soaked shirt, the edges of the material blackened and singed, and she stormed toward him. “What the hell happened to you?”
He self-consciously fiddled with the hem of his shirt, then held up his hand to keep her at bay. “You don’t want to get any closer.”
But it was already too late. She brought up her arm to cover the lower half of her face, stopping dead about ten feet away from him. The sour scent of piss and singed fur overwhelmed her. “What the hell is that?”
Her eyes began to water.
His chin dropped in resignation. “Slightly charred deer musk.”
She could only blink at him and take another step back as the scent seemed to invade every pore of her being. “Come again?”
“I was hit with a number of balloons filled with deer musk.”
She winced at the way his lips curled. “Wolves?”
He grunted, his eyes burning with disgust.
“And the burn marks?”
His smile was slow to form. “Payback.” Then he turned on his heel. “I’ll be in the shower. I’ll be back in in an hour or two…or whenever I can get this stench out.”
It wasn’t long before the other two members returned from their patrol. Thankfully no one else had been doused. “What the hell happened?”
Camden gestured for Mason to leave, and only the two of them remained. His gaze turned critical as he studied her, and she crossed her arms, knowing she wasn’t going to like what he said next.
“Logan is without a pack now, which means he’s free game for the others.” He leaned against the counter without removing his gaze from her.
The implications slammed into her, and she could no longer hold his stare. “Because of me.”
She thought she’d been doing him a favor.
Helping him.
Camden sighed, and she glanced up to see him stride toward her. “Maybe, but there’s no changing what happened. Logan is more than strong enough to fight back. And he has us. Those wolves won’t mess with him again for a good long while…at least not until their fur grows back.”
She did a double take at the humor in his voice, but Camden only shrugged.
“Logan needed to be taken down a peg or two. While he might be an amazing fighter, he’s not invincible. Many have left him alone for fear of retaliation from his pack. It’s better it happened now than in a fight later. He’ll be more on guard now.”
That wasn’t enough to alleviate her guilt.
It only made it worse, and her eyes flickered up the stairs.
“Go.” Camden nudged her gently, careful not to touch her skin. “Talk to him.”
She grudgingly trudged up the stairs. She hadn’t even been there long and she was turning their lives upside down. She was sure they didn’t appreciate it. Camden’s room was located on the second floor, the first door on the right. She wasn’t surprised it was clean and orderly, books covering every surface.
The door across from him was cracked open, enough to allow her to see Mason standing with his back toward her.
His naked back.
It was covered with an intricate tattoo that swirled over his left shoulder and down his spine. The black lines of his tattoos were more tribal, and not remotely human.
Shit…the man was massive. Unlike some people who had bulky muscles, he was proportionate. Instead of being intimidated, she remembered his gentleness with her.
Feeling like a voyeur, she hastily backed away. The next door was shut, the sounds muted, the scent of sea breeze marking it as Xander’s. The room next to the stairs was a bathroom, the shower still running, the stench of spoiled urine strong despite the door separating them.
She crossed the hall to the last door, then hovered in the doorway. Much to her surprise, the place wasn’t the pigsty she’d been imagining. Though extremely cluttered, there seemed to be an underlying order to the madness. The bed was unmade, the sheets and blankets rumpled, like he didn’t spend time there often. Mostly clothes were strewn about the room, but the desk in the corner had scattered computer parts everywhere.
She followed the path on the floor, drawn to the chaos, not daring to touch anything.
A shadow passed to the right, and she turned, then froze as she saw Logan walk in wearing only a towel around his waist. He used a second towel to scrub his hair dry, then stiffened when he noticed her in the corner.
“I, uh…” She struggled to keep her eyes from straying to his chest. And a stray thought popped in her head—for someone short and lean, he was incredibly fit, his muscles sleek and toned.
“Annora?”
“Sorry!” She blurted out, dragging her eyes up to meet his. The thought of his sexy body vanished when she remembered how she’d royally fucked up his life. “I’m sorry my interference made your life h
arder. I was just trying to help. I didn’t mean to screw it up so badly.”
Logan lowered his arm, using the towel to wipe off the droplets clinging to his chest. “If I had a choice between my old life or this new one—I would pick this new life without hesitation. You did me a favor.” He wrinkled his nose, then shrugged. “I can handle whatever shit comes my way. They’ll get bored and move on eventually. I’m not as easy a target as they think.” He smirked, then his smile slowly faded.
She bit her lip, not sure she was convinced.
When he dropped the towel in his hands on the bed and boldly walked toward her, she held perfectly still. But instead of touching her, he reached past her and picked up a phone from his table. “Keep this with you at all times.”
He tossed it at her, and she automatically caught it. It was the latest model. “You bought me a phone?”
He shrugged it away, avoiding her gaze. “We need a way to get ahold of you.”
Maybe. “And the clothes?”
“We didn’t have time to shop.” He pulled out a shirt and pants from his dresser, clearly dismissing her.
She watched him for a few more seconds, then headed toward the door, glancing at him over her shoulder. “I will pay you back.”
His head snapped up, his eyes so fierce, they almost seemed to glow. “That bitch nearly killed you. A few pieces of clothing are hardly enough to repay you.”
He glared at her, daring her to protest.
“No need for repayment.” She touched her hand on the door to steady herself, feeling infinitely sad. “Being my friend is enough of a payment. I don’t have many of them. A little pain in exchange for your freedom was worth it.”
* * *
Logan watched Annora leave, her words destroying him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone didn’t want something from him. His kitsune spun wildly in a circle with the need to be set free. Sparks of fire snapped around him, heating his skin, while snow fell slowly in his room as he struggled to control the dual nature of his beast.
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