Finally, she whirled around and ran.
The trees whipped by her, the branches catching at her clothes. She lost her cap, but kept going, her hair flying loose behind her. She had no clue where she was heading, just that she had to put as much space between her and the men as possible. She tripped over a tree root, stumbled, righted herself, and ran on. She couldn’t hear anything behind her, all sounds drowned out by the thud of her heart, her harsh breathing.
As she reached the banks of the river, she skidded to a halt. The water was slow-moving, deep and dark, and horror filled her mind. She glanced back over her shoulder. They were hidden by the trees, but she could still hear them, blundering through the forest. She looked to the left, but that led to open meadow with nowhere to hide.
Nothing would make her enter that water. She’d rather face an endless number of guns.
She forced her breathing to slow. Who were they? Maybe nothing to do with her. Hunters perhaps. But hunters in suits?
“Stay where you are.” The man stepped from beneath the shadows of the trees, the gun held in front of him. “We don’t mean you any harm. Just come with us, Mrs. Miller.”
They knew who she was. She could feel the gun aimed at her, and her gaze darted left and right, searching for a way out. She took a step back, felt the edge of the riverbank behind her, and froze. He approached her slowly, and she stared like a deer caught by a hunter.
The sensation of wrongness washed over her, intensifying. Coalescing inside her. Without thought, her feet moved, taking her backward. The bank crumbled, and she fell, screaming, her hands reaching at nothing.
She crashed into the water, went under, and came up flailing. Under again, her heavy skirts dragging her down. She’d never learned to swim. She hated the water. Her mouth opened and filled with water, and she sank, the darkness closing over her head. She was going to die.
Her lungs were screaming for air, but she kept sinking, the darkness encroaching.
And suddenly, she was back in another time, another place. A nightmare that had haunted her childhood but was always gone before she woke.
The water was icy cold, so cold it snatched her breath away. She struggled to keep Marcus’s head above the water, one hand holding his petrified body, the other scrabbling for a handhold on the smooth rock wall. The well was deep and narrow. Her mind scrambled to make sense of what had happened. They’d come for her. Her own people. They said she’d broken the laws of God. That she must pay. She’d broken no laws. Unless falling in love was a law. But why did her baby have to pay? He was innocent. Only six years old.
She held him closer. Up above she could hear the murmur of the crowd, see the circle of light. Then it was gone, leaving her in stygian darkness, and she knew they’d covered the well and she was going to die here. She held him as long as she could, as the cold gnawed into her bones, and his little body went still and lifeless, and despair filled her. God had forsaken her. She was being punished for a crime she knew nothing of. The water was dragging her down. It was closing over her head, cold and dark, and her lungs were on fire. There was something she hadn’t done, something she needed to say, and she didn’t want to die…
A scream shattered the peace of the forest, and Finn went still. Then he raced flat-out toward the sound.
What the hell had happened? He’d spent most of the morning watching her from the cover of the trees. He’d finally left her drowsing in the forest glade, unable to remain close and not go to her. And that couldn’t happen. He’d done what he came here for—checked that she was safe, and now he needed to leave her. Let her have her life.
He could only bring her death.
He’d been padding away, meaning to check in with Brandon and the pack before he left to head back to London and out of temptation’s way. She didn’t need him.
Except something had happened.
As he raced through the forest, he caught the scent of strangers and increased his speed. The scream hadn’t come again, and that filled him with foreboding. Panic ratcheted his heart rate until it was about to burst from his body. He reached the edge of the river, skidded to a halt. Two men stood on the bank, staring at something below them.
He followed their gaze. At first, he saw nothing, then an arm reached up out of the dark water.
Not happening.
Without thinking, he dived in and swam toward her. She went under again, and for a moment he couldn’t see her, couldn’t find her. At last, a small, pale hand emerged and was gone. He dived under, his jaws catching on the material of her clothes, and he dragged her to the surface.
He thought she was unconscious, but she gasped and took a gulp of air. She stared at him, hands pushing him away, panic flaring in her wide eyes. Then she went still as though she recognized him, the fear fading from her face.
Closing his jaws gently around her shoulder, he swam strongly for the opposite bank.
On this side, the river’s edge wasn’t so steep, He released his hold, and she clambered up and onto the grassy bank and collapsed onto her back. He followed her up, head hanging, breathing deeply, more from relief than tiredness.
He needed to get out of there.
While he was certain seeing him in wolf form wouldn’t break the rules of the Covenant, he’d rather not risk having to argue the issue with Lilith. Once, long ago, he’d made a vow of allegiance to Lilith, Queen of the Abyss, and she would leap on any opportunity to get him back under her control. And that was never going to happen. He’d die first. Which was actually part of his long-term plan.
Rachel lay on her back, eyes closed, long black hair spread out across the grass.
He glanced back over the river. They’d drifted about fifty feet downstream, but he could still see the two men standing on the far bank, staring across the water. Who were they? And what did they want with her? He’d find out later. Right now, he had to get her out of there and to safety.
He sat back on his haunches and howled. Heard the answering call of the pack. He just had to keep her safe until they got here and dealt with the two men. And afterward, he’d vanish.
A bullet whizzed past his ear, and he crouched low. Time to get the fuck out of there.
He didn’t want to touch her. He knew somewhere deep inside him that if he touched her again, his resolve would never hold. Instead, he let out a yip, and her eyes flashed open, wide with alarm. Then she saw him, the panic receded, and wonder filled her face. She didn’t fear him. Maybe she should. He was far more dangerous to her than the men across the river.
He growled low and twisted his head toward their pursuers, now running toward them along the opposite bank. She followed his gaze, and her eyes widened once more. He snapped at her, and she scrambled to her feet. As he gestured with his head toward the line of trees to their right, she nodded. And they were running, slowly though. She was hampered by the long, wet skirts, and she stumbled before righting herself. Shots sounded behind them, and he put himself between her and the guns, though he suspected he was the target. If they’d wanted to kill her, likely she’d be dead by now.
They were almost at the trees when the bullet took him in the shoulder, hurling him to the ground. Fire streaked along his nerves. Ahead of him she realized something was wrong and slowed and turned. As she took a step toward him, he growled and pushed himself upright. He forced himself forward as pain shot through his leg. He was losing blood fast. Just keep going a little while longer. He snapped at her heels, and she turned back and headed into the safety of the trees just as a man screamed from behind them. It looked like the cavalry had arrived.
Another scream, a couple of shots, and silence.
A moment later a wolf howled. All clear.
Finn limped deeper into the forest. He could feel the darkness encroaching. He needed to shift and heal himself, but she was still beside him and he couldn’t risk it.
He snarled at her, willing her to go.
She shook her head. “I can’t leave you. You saved me, and you’re hur
t.” Slowly, she reached out with her hand, and he snarled again. She didn’t take the hint, refused to back down, and he was growing weaker by the moment. He had to stay conscious. If he blacked out, he’d shift, and it would be over. He’d have as good as killed her a second time.
Her fingers touched him, stroking the fur of his head, and at the first touch of her fingers, something broke inside him. A howl welled up.
No.
He had to get away. But the darkness was drawing him down. The last thing he saw was her face, staring at him, and then nothing.
Chapter 4
Rachel collapsed to her knees beside the huge wolf. Blood drenched one shoulder, clotting in the golden pelt. The sweet metallic scent filled her nostrils as she dug her fingers into the fur at his neck, searching for a pulse. She found it, slow and steady, and relief surged through her. She stroked down his neck to the shoulder, locating the place where the bullet had entered. There was no exit wound, so it was still lodged inside. It needed to come out, but at least the wound was no longer bleeding.
She glanced behind her, but everything was quiet. She’d heard the screams and the wolves. There had always been wolves in the forest around Haven, but they had never attacked either man or beast of the settlement.
Had they saved her?
But why?
She sat back on her heels. Her rescuer needed medical attention—the nearest veterinarian was in town—and she needed to go for help. But she didn’t want to leave him. If she turned her back, he would vanish. As he’d done so many times in the past.
She’d seen him before over the years. Not often, but now and then. She’d become aware of his focus, and she’d catch a glimpse of golden fur, the glimmer of silver eyes watching her from the shadows. As soon as she saw him, he’d disappear, as though he had some inner radar that told him she’d spotted him. Knew he was there.
This time, she didn’t want him to disappear.
He’d saved her. The adrenaline was seeping from her system, leaving her shivery and shaken. Those men had come after her. They’d meant her harm, though if they’d wanted her dead, they would have just shot her. They’d meant to take her. But for what purpose?
She stroked gently over the golden fur. “Wake up,” she murmured.
Something prickled across her skin, and she went still. The air around the wolf shimmered and sparkled, and a second later, the wolf was gone. In its place sprawled a man. A big man, long and lean, dressed in faded jeans, a black T-shirt, and a leather jacket.
She blinked. Then stared at him, shaking her head as though at any moment she would wake from a dream. Maybe she was unconscious. Perhaps she had passed out in the river and this was one last dream before death. This man was a stranger; she was sure she’d never seen him before, but a sense of familiarity washed over her.
He had dark-blond hair the color of the wolf’s pelt. His eyes were closed, his lashes like golden lace on his high cheekbones. His lips were full and parted slightly, his nose big and bony. He was quite the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
Was she going insane?
Another shiver ran through her. A few feet from where she crouched, a gap in the canopy allowed the warm midday sun to break through. She backed away until she was sitting in the patch of sunlight. A few minutes later, the shivering stopped. Her hair had come loose in the water, and lay damp around her. She tugged it over her shoulder and plaited it loosely. Then she sat with her arms looped around her knees and watched the unconscious man. She didn’t know for how long. Now she could see the rise and fall of his chest with each breath.
Something occurred to her. There was no blood. The wound appeared to have vanished as though it had never existed.
She crawled toward him, reached out a hand and touched his shoulder, felt the heat of his skin against her fingertips. No blood, no wound, nothing. What was he?
Werewolf?
Hah. She didn’t believe in such nonsense.
Her fingers fluttered against the pulse in his throat, before moving higher, stroking over the rough skin of his jaw. She went still.
With the exception of her husband, Joseph, she couldn’t remember ever touching a man like this. Not even Papi. It was against the rules of the settlement. But she couldn’t resist. Something drew her on.
Maybe he wasn’t real. Just a figment of her imagination. She’d always been a dreamer.
With one fingertip, she lightly traced his full lower lip, felt his warm breath against her skin, and heat flowed through her, settling low down in her belly.
His eyes flashed open. Gray, like the clouds before a thunderstorm. His hand moved fast, catching her own and holding it still. He searched her face and some emotion flashed behind his eyes. “Damaris.”
The muttered word made no sense. But she couldn’t seem to move. His other hand came up and his fingers caressed her cheek as his eyes filled with wonder. “Damaris.”
Had he mistaken her for someone else? For a moment, she wanted to be whoever he thought she was. Wanted to be the one inspiring that sense of wonder in this beautiful man.
Then his hand slid around the back of her neck, and he drew her down to him and kissed her. At the first touch of his warm lips, all rational thought fled. His mouth parted on hers, and his tongue pushed inside, filling her with heat and warmth, stirring her blood in a way she’d never known before. She was lost. Adrift. He tugged at her, and she fell, sprawling across his hard body. He rolled her so she was beneath him, and he was looming over her. Then he kissed her again. And she let herself go because it felt so good.
If this was evil, how could it feel so right? As though this was where she belonged. As though she’d lived through this moment in a thousand forgotten dreams.
Finally, he raised his head. Somehow her arms had gone around him, her fingers digging into his shoulders, and she tried to hold him close. But he was far stronger than her, and he pulled himself free and got to his feet, filling her with a sense of loss so strong it held her motionless while she brought herself under control.
She sat up.
“Who, are you?” she asked. “What are you?”
Finn paced the small clearing, trying to force his brain to function as despair mingled with an insane sense of elation.
He’d never thought to hold her in his arms again. Certainly never thought to kiss her.
It shouldn’t have happened.
This was bad.
So fucking bad.
He’d been avoiding looking at her; now he cast her a quick glance. She sat on the forest floor, her arms looped around her knees, her hair in a plait over one shoulder. His heart hurt as he looked at her. She was all he had ever wanted. And she’d kissed him back. Heat flowed through his veins, settling in his groin, stirring his cock, and he groaned. Shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Why do you look at me like that?” she asked.
“Like what?” What did she see?
She shrugged. “Like you’re still a wolf and you want to devour me.”
“I would never hurt you.”
“What are you?” she asked again.
He turned away from her while he brought himself under some semblance of control. What was he? Good fucking question. And not one he could answer—that would really be breaking the rules of the Covenant.
Shit. Once again, he’d fucked up spectacularly.
They were never supposed to meet. And now they had, and in five days’ time, she would die.
He took a deep breath.
Maybe he could take her back. If no one knew, how could the Covenant be brought into play? Just see her safely home, then get the fuck away from here and never come back. Go hide and pretend they’d never met, and maybe she wouldn’t die.
Maybe he hadn’t brought about her death for a second time.
Christ.
He ran a hand through his hair. He had no clue what to do. Somehow, he needed to put this right. Whatever the cost to himself. He had to speak to Torrin. There had to be something
he could do. He could feel the panic rising and he forced it down. Turned back to Rachel.
She was staring up at him out of those startling green eyes. “Are you a…werewolf?” she asked.
The question took him by surprise. “No.”
But he could control werewolves. As he had the local pack, binding them to him, giving them the task of keeping Rachel safe, ensuring she was happy. Which strangely she had seemed to be in this life cut off from the outside world.
“Then what are you?”
“I can’t tell you. Just know that I’ll never knowingly bring you harm.”
“But why?”
And that was something else he wasn’t allowed to tell her. So he’d maybe twist the truth a little. “Twenty years ago, your father employed me…or rather my company, Stormlord Securities, to locate his wife and daughter. That was your mother. He wanted to know you were safe. We’ve been sending him reports ever since.”
“Twenty years ago? How can that be? You don’t look much older than me. But then you’re not entirely human are you, Mr….?”
“Stanton. Finn Stanton. And I’m older than I look.”
“Are you evil, Finn Stanton? Sent from the devil to tempt me from the Lord’s way?”
He wanted to ask if she was tempted, but kept the question to himself. “I’m not from the devil.” Though Lilith was a close second.
He crossed to where she sat and held out his hand. He shouldn’t touch her, but he couldn’t resist. Just one more time. Afterward, he would take her back to her home and leave her and find out if there was any way he could save her. And they would never meet again.
As her palm slid into his, he knew he was lost. He pulled her to her feet, then closer, so she almost fell against his body. And he could feel her against the length of him, cool and still damp from her dip in the river. He released her hand and his arms went around her, pulling her closer, sliding down the smooth indentation of her waist, settling on the curve of her ass under the heavy material. He hardened immediately. After almost a thousand years of abstinence, his body was coming alive.
20 Shades of Shifters_A Paranormal Romance Collection Page 200