by Bonnie Vanak
“Finally got a good look at my face? Get used to it. You’ll be staring at it for a long time.”
Samantha pushed back the blanket, swung her legs over the bed’s side. Ignoring him, she reached down for her worn boots. Fear fluttered at the edges of her mind, but she pushed it aside. Had to save her powers and her strength.
“Going somewhere? And we barely know each other. I can be quite a welcoming host, when given the chance.”
The old leather boots had shrunk in the wetness. Samantha struggled to tug on her footwear, hiding a wince as they made contact with blisters. Three weeks on the road, little money, lots of walking.
“I really hate it when women run out on me,” the wolf continued. “We should at least talk. Don’t you enjoy a little chitchat after sex?”
Horror pulsed through her. Dropping a lace, she swiveled. “You did not have sex with me while I was unconscious.”
He gave her a steady look. “Did I?”
Drawing on her waning powers, she examined flashes of the past. Images sailed by like a slide show. He’d taken her here (where?) removed her boots and let her sleep. Nothing more.
“What a lying tongue you have, wolf.”
“The better to eat you with, my dear.” He flashed a cocky grin, made lopsided by the scar. The smile disarmed her. It was a charming smile that gave her heart a little tug, made it beat faster.
But experience had taught Samantha that men were all the same. They just wanted one thing, like the cowboy and the werewolf shifters in the bar. She wanted one thing, too, and it had nothing to do with getting naked.
Then he stalked into another room. When he returned, he clutched a big bowl. Tendrils of steam curled upwards. Her stomach grumbled.
The wolf set it down on a tray and brought it to her side. “It’s not poison. Just homemade venison stew.”
“I don’t eat meat.”
He raised one finely arched brow. “I’ve never heard of a demon who wasn’t a carnivore. You will eat this. Your body needs the protein.”
“Screw you.”
That slow, sexy grin glided over his face again. “In good time, sweetheart. We will be lovers, but first, you need your strength. I can be very … demanding.”
“I’m not a demon.” Feeling woozy and out of her element, she dug into the stew. Forget pride. Four days with little food stripped her of energy. Once she regained her strength, her powers would return.
“A Darklighter. There’s enough demon in you to call out a contract for your pretty little hide.”
Fear rippled through her. Samantha set down the spoon, wiping her mouth with the paper napkin as she sought to disguise her emotions. The venison was delicious, but she had no appetite.
“I can sense your fear. It smells like old ashes.” He returned to the rocking chair and sighed. “Eat your stew. I won’t harm you.”
“No, you’ll leave me for others in the Society to kill.” Her stomach knotted as she remembered what happened to those deemed malevolent.
Eating poisoned stew would be a merciful death.
“You’re not going to die.”
“Taking me in for the bounty?” She frowned, studying the cabin. It made no sense. Hunters always returned their quarry to lockup first, collected their pay and left.
Or dumped the bodies at the Society…
“I’ve been given a different assignment.” His gaze was steady. “Tame your dark side.”
“Right. And that’s why you brought me here.”
“No, I brought you here so we could become lovers.”
The stew lodged in her throat. She choked it down, coughing. “You’ve got quite a sense of humor, wolf.”
“I’m not joking and the name is Grayson. Might as well know my name before we get naked.” A devilish gleam entered his eyes. “So you can scream it when we’re in bed together.”
Samantha gulped down the rest of the stew, wiping her mouth carefully. She folded the napkin into a neat triangle and set it on the tray. “I don’t get naked with anyone and we will not become lovers.”
“We’ll see about that,” he said softly.
Strength seeped into her cells, her bones. The only thing you’ll see is my ass as I’m leaving, wolf.
“And such a pretty little ass it is, too. A sight I wouldn’t mind, especially since I’ll haul it back in here if you escape.”
Her breath hitched. Samantha bit back a worried gasp. “You’re no ordinary Hunter. They don’t read minds.”
Grayson smiled and stood. His shadow dipped over her. He was over six feet and muscled. She remembered his heavy weight atop her as he’d pinned her in the field. His erection riding the apex of her thighs. Her body tingled and warmth pooled between her legs.
Samantha steeled herself and studied her captor. Not one to easily escape, but hell if she wouldn’t die trying. He was the only thing blocking her from the Hunter she needed to destroy.
“I’m an Ancient. One of the hybrids whose powers enable us to track the darkest evil, and vanquish it.”
Those broad shoulders shrugged. “I’m also an SWW, single white wolf who enjoys cooking venison stew, long walks on the beach in the moonlight, fine wine over dinner and I’m looking to bed a Single White Darklighter so she’ll stop ripping off the wings of Fae and searching for a certain Hunter to latch her talons into.”
“Not latch. Destroy.” She stood, spilling the bowl. It clanged on the wood floor, the violent noise matching her inner turbulence.
He bent over and picked it up, giving her full view of his backside. Denim stretched over his taut buttocks. Firm and muscled. A tingle raced through her veins, making her breasts suddenly aching and full.
“Don’t think so. The Society has a thing about demons killing their Hunters.”
“And I have a ‘thing’ about Jerome Cabot, the Hunter who murdered my parents.”
His expression shuttered. “Your father was a demon with a hefty bounty on his scalp. He’d been warned not to mess with humans and ignored it.”
“And my mother? She was an angel.” Samantha squeezed her fists. Blood seeped from her palms as her talons emerged, digging into soft flesh. Her powers were returning. The demon inside her emerged with fear. It roared for justice, craved for the kill.
“A fallen angel, who failed at her mission to destroy your father. The Society banished her for breaking the laws.”
“They fell in love! Is love against your laws, too?”
“Mating a demon is, and she knew it, knew the consequences.” His rugged voice softened. “They were left alone until your father killed that human.”
“That human butchered our neighbors and their children. They never hurt anyone. Our town was a little haven from crime until that killer came along!”
“I know. But our laws are clear. Leave the justice for mortals. Your father stirred up a load of trouble when he took the law into his hands. He was warned not to interfere. He paid the price.”
Grayson took a step closer, crowding her against the bed. “Maybe you forgot about the panic when the public found a corpse ripped to shreds and hanging upside down. Rumors started about demons and witches. Our world was nearly exposed, not to mention your father’s rage unleashed black magick on the town. It took a year before the darkness was expelled and by then, four houses were burned to the ground, ten divorces took place, a host of kids fell prey to drugs. That’s what your father’s rage did.”
Troubled, she fell silent. She’d been blissfully ignorant of the happenings around her. Her mother had shielded them from it.
“Did you ever pause to think that maybe your father’s nature drew that killer to the house next door?”
“He changed when he married my mother. He wasn’t evil.”
Grayson stepped closer, forcing her to sit on the bed. “Like attracts like, darkness attracts darkness. When he wasn’t playing house, he sacrificed animals to keep his power alive. It drew evil straight to the source and suddenly that nice small town wasn’t so nice an
ymore.”
The venison stew in her stomach curdled. “It’s all lies.”
He leaned over her, caging her with his arms on either side of her body. Warm breath tickled her cheek, smelling of mints and whiskey.
“Sometimes we choose to ignore what our family does because it cuts too deep. But truth is truth.”
Insight came as the white light inside her hummed, pushing aside her demon half. Samantha reached up with one hand, hovering above his marred cheek. “Is that what happened to you, Grayson? Did you get that scar from someone in your family cutting too deeply?”
The Hunter yanked away, his mouth a narrow slash. “Keep out of my personal business, Samantha. This isn’t about me.”
“You’re butting into mine.” Sensing Grayson’s weakness, the demon nudged aside the angelic half.
“It’s my job. I’m a slave to duty. It’s what kept me ticking all these years.”
The jeering sarcasm hid something. She wondered what evil he’d witnessed all his years on this earth, what tragedy of human misery and suffering. Compassion filled her. She wanted to touch him, soothe away the strain on his face.
As she reached out, he jerked away. She dropped her hand with a shaky sigh. Getting close to this wolf was dangerous. He could derail her from keeping a sacred promise. No matter. Soon enough, she’d be on her way.
Grayson’s expression shuttered. “It’s late. I’m going to bed.”
Without saying anything, she went to the window, lifted the curtain. Freezing rain pelted the glass. She felt stronger, but the weather would wear her down fast.
Samantha turned, saw him tug the shirt over his head, exposing a hard male chest darkened with springy hairs. Fascination spiraled through her as she stared at his well-defined pectorals and flat stomach rippling with muscles. Low in her belly, a strange tugging ensued.
“What are you doing?” she demanded.
“I always sleep naked.”
Her breath caught in her throat as he unzipped his jeans, pulled them down. Commando. Crisp dark hairs surrounded a long, thick penis, impressive even at rest. She stared, transfixed.
Grayson shrugged out of his pants. He regarded her, as comfortable in his nudity as a wolf in his skin. “Get undressed, Samantha. Now.”
Chapter Three
“No. I’d rather walk naked through a snowstorm than sleep with you, wolf.”
Gray eyes the color of steel danced with amusement. “Did I say anything about sleep?”
Samantha glared at him. “We are not having sex.”
“Not now.” He gave another of those sexy, crooked smiles and went to a closet. He belted on a black robe. Samantha sighed in relief. Not that the view wasn’t nice but it was too damn distracting.
Grayson snagged a white robe off a hanger and tossed it at her. “Get undressed and put this on. Your body is sore and has been through too much. You need a soak in the tub. A little pampering will help you relax.”
After a week of tepid showers, the thought of a hot bath made her mouth water. Samantha eyed him warily. “Why are you interested in my welfare?
“It’s not your welfare that has my interest, fair maiden.” He wagged his brows and she nearly laughed. Grayson was dangerously charming.
When he left the bedroom, she remained, taking the opportunity to study her prison. The bedroom had pine furniture and lamps made from elk antlers. Blue-and-green checked curtains added to the masculine look. But when she tried opening a window, she found it jammed. Painted shut. Or warded with magick.
Grayson returned. “Your bath is ready. I suggest you make good use of it while the water’s hot.”
Since she was stuck here for now, the wolf obviously knew a bath would relax her when she needed to remain alert and sharp. The wolf was no dummy. But the temptation proved too much. Samantha picked up the robe and marched down the hallway to the bathroom.
A large sunken marble tub sat on a platform beside a glass window showing a silver vista of frost-covered meadow. Little bouquets of flowers in his bathroom were incongruous with Grayson’s rugged masculine appearance. Then again, everything about Grayson seemed incongruous.
Steam curled from the water and the scent of vanilla hovered in the air. Crowing with delight, she stepped inside the bathroom. Samantha firmly closed the door, shrugged out of her clothing and hung the robe on a brass hook.
Why would a powerful Ancient, and a bounty hunter, be interested in pampering her? Why didn’t he simply shoot her, or torture her and then drag her into the Society to collect his money?
Before enjoying the tub, she took a quick, hot shower, scrubbing away two days’ worth of road grime.
Then she, combed her hair and headed for the tub. Bubbles popped and crackled as Samantha stepped into the foamy water. She sank down with a happy sigh, leaned back against the tub, letting the warmth work into her aching muscles and tired limbs. Once she’d had a home as expansive as this, with all the bubble baths she wanted. Not a life spent hiding in fear from those who wanted to hurt her for being a Darklighter.
A lump clogged her throat as she remembered peeking through the partly opened closet door to see her father gasping his last, his arms around her mother. Blood trickling across the hardwood floor to pool at her feet. Her fist stuffed into her mouth to stop her screams…
Cloaked by shadows in the dimly lit room, the killer’s face had been hidden. But she would never forget her mother screaming out in terror, “No, please not Jerome Cabot!”
Before the Hunter drew his knife and cut her throat.
Tears burned the back of her eyes. Samantha blinked them away, refusing to surrender to grief. That night she’d sworn a vow to her dead father to find this Jerome, the Hunter who had taken their lives.
Nearly carving the Fae in half had put a price on her head. But the Fae had been arrogant, and dismissive when Samantha asked about finding Jerome. And then the Fae had taunted her about her parents, how they had deserved their fate. Even suggested Samantha should suffer the same.
The taunts had caused her demon to rage out of control. She’d gone into a trance and came out of it with blood on her hands, feathers everywhere and the shrieks of the Fae’s pain echoing in her ears.
But her demon had gotten the important information, revealed only after the Fae got acquainted with Samantha’s sharp talons and her knife. Jerome was in this area of Colorado. When she found him, the Hunter would suffer.
Suffer in agony as her parents had.
Samantha closed her eyes, willing away her need for vengeance. Warmth stole into her bones, making her drowsy.
A sudden splash jerked her awake. Grayson stood by the tub, an amused, crooked smile playing on his firm mouth. Her pulse jumped at the sight of him. His inky dark hair was mussed, and the fleece robe did not begin to cover his strong calves. The intimacy of his large, nearly naked presence caused an odd thrum in her body.
In the water floated a small yellow rubber duck.
“Thought you’d like some company.” He sat on the tub’s lip.
Grateful for the covering of bubbles, she nodded at the duck. “I usually don’t bathe with a toy.”
“But I do.” He stood and shrugged out of the robe. A hank of dark hair spilled across his forehead as he gave her an intent look. She gazed upward and her eyes widened. His penis had been soft before, but now jutted out from his body, thick and hard. Heat spiraled between her legs.
Water sloshed as he stepped into the tub. Samantha gave a small squeak and curled up her legs, hooking her arms around them.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I needed a hot soak before bed.” He leaned against the opposite end, grinning at her.
His powerful sexuality wrapped around her like a cloak. Tendrils of his scent threaded through the air, a delicious smell that spoke of warmth, protection and a fierce loyalty. Samantha’s pulse pounded hard as he stretched out his arms on either side of the tub. His broad shoulders were layered with muscle, and assorted
scars puckered the sun-kissed skin. Grayson’s body was rugged and spoke of an outdoor life. But his face was chiseled like sculpted marble, the gray eyes large with sweeping lashes beneath heavy black brows. Except for the scar, he would be beautiful as an angel.
A deadly angel.
He watched her, those gray eyes filled with a dark hunger. His gaze made her feel open, yearning for something she didn’t dare explore.
Samantha glanced down at the water. She saw a vision; his powerful body lowered over hers, his legs entangled with hers as they made fierce love, sweat slicking their bodies. Grayson groaning her name, fisting his hand in her long hair as he tipped her head back for a possessive kiss.
Samantha. My mate.
No! She slapped the bubbles.
She wasn’t anyone’s mate and she was determined to remain a virgin. Samantha had known about the powers she’d inherited on her twenty-first birthday two months ago, the reason why the Society wanted her found. Fearing they would be compromised if she made love, she’d shunned men. Never wanted one, either.
Until now.
“I have to get out of here. This tub, I mean. I can’t be here with you. I can’t.”
She hated the quiver in her voice, the betraying nervousness in her hands. The towel was too far away. She’d have to expose her nudity to him. Samantha thought of a stone castle to block her thoughts. She knew she’d have to escape tonight. She could not spend the night here, not with this Ancient and his open hunger for her.
Could not trust herself to fight it.
“Samantha.” His voice was quiet and steady. “I would never hurt or force you.”
“You’re a Hunter and a werewolf. Two creatures not exactly known for restraint.”
“I’m an Ancient, and my control is legendary. Even my sexual control.”
Her hands squeezed together. “And what I saw means you are in perfect control. Right.”
“I can’t help my body’s reaction. I want you. But that doesn’t mean I follow my base instinct and let my wolf take over.”
“Let him take over and do what?”
Grayson’s voice went husky. “Make love to you until dawn. I’d run my tongue over your skin, marking you with my scent, before making you mine. And then I would give you such intense pleasure that your body will never long for another. And if another male even dares attempt to hurt you, I would give my body and my blood to keep you safe.”