God, I have to stop this. Stop it right now!
Samantha pressed a hand to her chest, trying to still her pounding heart. I don’t like him, she reminded herself. He’s a jerk!
Or that was what she’d thought of him before tonight. But that was before she’d found out he had an intellect to match or rival her own. Before she’d found out that his huge, muscular jock body housed a brilliant brain. And that he had a sense of humor . . . and a magnetic personality . . . and that he liked curvy women. . . .
Could have let him in just for the night—had a few hours of hot sex and then forgotten about it the next morning.
The problem was, she didn’t think she could do that. Though she had often advised her sister to go out and find a man to scratch her itch after Sadie finally got divorced, Samantha wasn’t very good at taking her own advice. She talked a good game, but to be honest, she just wasn’t a one-night-stand kind of girl. It was too hard to give her body without giving her heart—which had been broken more than once. Samantha found it much easier just to bury herself in her work, to hide her vulnerable side behind her intellect and impressive job title and pretend she didn’t mind being alone.
Still, the way Keller had looked at her . . . the feel of his big, hard body pressed against hers . . . the growl in his voice when he told her he wanted her . . .
Stop it, Samantha! Forget about him and do something to take your mind off it, she ordered herself. What about a bath in the pool-sized bathtub? That would be nice. Although the way she was feeling, a cold shower might be more appropriate than a hot bath.
Resolutely, she straightened up and squared her shoulders. Fine. Everything was going to be fine. She would take a relaxing bath and then sleep like a baby in the big, cushy bed. The next morning she would say good-bye to Keller and fly back to Tampa and resume her life. True, she’d been planning to hang around the conference for a little while longer. But since she’d already made her own presentation, there was really no need.
It’ll be better when I get home, she told herself. Better when I get away from Keller.
She hoped.
Chapter 8
A sharp jab in her upper arm—like a hard pinch—woke her in the middle of the night.
“Ouch!” Samantha gasped, her eyes flying open. She’d been sleeping fitfully, having another one of those weird baby dreams, but now she was abruptly and completely awake.
A figure was looming over her in the darkness, holding something long and thin in one hand. Samantha had drawn the drapes to block out the incessant neon glow of the Strip, so all she could see was a shadow. But that shadow looked big.
“Now we’ll see about that pesky latent Gene of yours,” he said in a strangely familiar voice. He ripped the covers off her, leaving her cold and shivering in the bed.
“What? W-who are you?” She wished her voice wouldn’t shake so much. She wanted to run, but she was still disoriented from sleep. She felt frozen in place. “What are you doing in my room? Get away from me!”
“In good time, my dear Dr. Becker.” The shadow—who was obviously male—suddenly began to grow. Sadie gasped as she saw it change shape and get bigger, becoming somehow shaggier around the edges. Its eyes glowed yellow, blazing like two baleful lamps in the darkness.
Suddenly her mind began to make sense of what her eyes were telling her.
An animal! He’s turning into an animal! He’s a Shifter!
She opened her mouth to scream, and then the creature leaped onto the bed with her. Two hard paws landed on her chest, pressing her back against the mattress and knocking the breath out of her lungs. Her scream came out as more of a croak, and then a huge, shaggy head was thrust in her face, and a scent like wet dog almost overwhelmed her.
“No!” Samantha threw up her arms instinctively, trying to shield her face and throat from the huge beast.
It didn’t do any good. A long hairy muzzle with a cold snout shoved its way through the barrier of her arms. There was hot, panting breath against her skin, and then sharp teeth sank into the tender flesh of her neck, just where her shoulder met the column of her throat.
Agony ripped through her, sending bolts of pain through her torn flesh, and Samantha gasped, struggling to fill her lungs so she could scream.
At the same time the beast was mauling her neck, sharp claws ripped at her flesh below. She was only wearing a thin sleep shirt to bed—it was no protection against the predator that was savaging her.
Samantha felt a shriek rise in her throat as her tender inner thighs were torn and scratched ruthlessly, the warm blood trickling down to wet the posh one-thousand-thread-count Egyptian linen sheets.
“No! No!” She bucked and kicked, trying to rid herself of the monster that was trying to eat her alive. Her fingers dug into the shaggy fur at his throat, and she clawed to get free, pushing, fighting, trying to find somewhere vulnerable to grab, trying to do anything to get him off her, to get away.
The thing on top of her growled like an angry dog and lifted its head to snap at her breast. Samantha felt her thin sleep shirt rip and a burning pain around her right nipple. Desperately, she tried to push the hairy muzzle away. She found the edges of its hot mouth, the jagged teeth and horribly strong jaws, and then she was past them and ramming her fingers down its throat.
The beast gagged for a moment, its hot, rancid breath gusting out against her face. Then bit down—hard. Sharp teeth tore into the tender webbing between her thumb and forefinger.
Terror ripped through her, making her cold all over.
My hands! Not my hands! As a surgeon, she had always taken especially good care of her hands. She couldn’t let this monster hurt them—she couldn’t!
Shrieking with rage and pain and fear, she bucked wildly, kicking out. Somehow her feet connected with its hairy, heaving belly and she was able to push it off her, at least a little.
Scrambling to one side, she started to roll away. She could see the beast on the other side of the vast bed, ready to lunge at her again. A weapon! If only she could find a weapon to fight it off! But there was nothing on the bed but the ridiculously puffy goose-down pillows. Samantha grabbed one, trying to shield herself and knowing it would do no good.
“Samantha?”
The sound of her name made her head jerk up. It was Keller, standing in the doorway to her bedroom, his broad shoulders nearly blocking out the dim light of the hallway beyond.
“Keller!” she gasped. “Help!”
The beast on her bed lifted its long muzzle and growled at him, a menacing note that could mean only one thing. This is my prey—leave!
“Get off her, you son of a bitch!” Keller’s own voice was low with possessive rage. He rushed at the bed and tackled the massive beast around the middle, dragging it to the floor.
There was a gasp and a muffled whine, and then the animal was up and bolting through the bedroom door, bushy tail tucked between its legs.
“Come back!” Keller roared at it. He started to chase after it, but Samantha called him back.
“Keller . . .” Her voice was a dying croak in her throat. She could feel the blood running from her neck, soaking through her sleep shirt, coating her thighs. Her right hand felt useless—numb and tingling in a way she was afraid might mean nerve damage. But everything seemed very far away, somehow. Remote . . . distant.
She felt like she was watching a television show that starred a woman who looked like her—exactly like her in fact. But it was only an actor—this wasn’t real. Couldn’t be real. Who went to bed in a fancy, ultraluxurious hotel room and woke up being savaged by a wolf or some kind of dog? Who . . .
“Samantha!” Suddenly Keller was beside her. “Samantha, are you all right? Tell me you’re all right.”
“I . . . I don’t know,” she told him in a voice that sounded oddly detached in her own ears. “Need . . . to assess the damage. Triage . . .”
“Come on.” Slipping his arms underneath her, he lifted her gently and carried her into the bathroo
m.
The overhead lights flicked on, and Samantha winced, blinking away from the brilliance.
“My God.” Keller’s voice was hoarse and horrified. “You’re covered in blood. What the hell did that Hyena bastard do to you?”
“Tried . . . tried to eat me, I think.” Samantha tried to laugh but the sound came out sounding wrong and distorted somehow. She clamped her lips shut, not wanting to hear that noise again—not coming out of herself.
She still felt cold and detached, distant from her own body as she watched Keller rip away the rest of her nightshirt, trying to see how bad her wounds were. At least no major blood vessels seemed to have been nicked—that was something. But there was still plenty of blood to go around, making it difficult to see exactly how badly she was wounded. It was hard to tell just by feeling—everything seemed to hurt and burn and sting and throb. Everything was bloody and awful.
Keller got her in the shower—it was the kind that rains down from the ceiling, like being caught in your own personal downpour. He came in with her, making sure the water wasn’t too hot or too cold. He was bare-chested and wearing a pair of long satin sleep trousers which were instantly soaked, but he didn’t seem to mind. He was focused wholly on Samantha, which was good—she didn’t feel capable of focusing on herself at the moment. In fact, she kept wanting to drift away, but she knew she couldn’t let herself do that. If she did, she wasn’t sure she would want to come back.
The flow of warmth drenched her, both stinging and soothing at the same time. Samantha bit her lip to keep from screaming when it ran over her torn throat and thighs and stung her injured right nipple, which had a semicircle of teeth marks around it.
At least he didn’t bite it all the way off, she thought and a hysterical bubble of laughter rose in her throat. She swallowed it down with difficulty. She couldn’t let emotion overwhelm her—couldn’t let hysteria take over. She had to assess the damage—had to see how badly she was hurt.
When all the blood was washed away, Keller turned off the shower and blotted her dry very carefully with a puffy white towel. Pink and red blotches covered it like macabre flowers when he was done He was wet himself, his dark brown hair out of its neat club at the back of his neck for once. Damp as it was, it came almost to his shoulders. It looked nice, loose around his face, Samantha noticed in that blank, detached way which seemed to be her new view of the world.
“Come on.” He started to lift her and take her back to the bedroom, but this time she resisted.
“No. No, I need to see.” She pushed out of his arms, stumbling and almost slipping on the damp floor. Somehow she caught her balance and went to stand in front of the full-length mirror that made up the door of the walk-in closet.
Pushing her wet hair out of the way, she saw that her throat wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. There were savage bite marks all over the area where her right shoulder met her neck, but there was no bone showing at least.
Her nipple hurt fiercely, but again, there was nothing that wouldn’t heal—albeit with plenty of unsightly scarring, she was certain. Her legs were raw with long, bloody scratches running from her inner thighs almost down to her knees. Samantha reached down to touch them . . . and saw her hand.
There was a deep bite mark in the webbing between her thumb and pointer finger and a burning numbness in both digits. Samantha tried to wiggle them and saw that only her thumb twitched spasmodically. Her pointer finger just hung limp, refusing to do anything.
“Samantha?” Keller came up behind her, looming like a wet god in the mirror at her back. Poseidon risen from the sea, his broad chest dappled with water droplets and his long hair slicked back.
Any other time Samantha would have thought how perfect he looked—how impossibly gorgeous. Or she might have felt embarrassed to be naked with him. Now all she could think of was her hand.
“Samantha?” he said again, his voice low and worried. “Baby, what is it?”
“Nerve damage,” she said flatly, raising her right hand to let him get a look. “See? I’ll probably never do surgery again.”
Saying the words out loud seemed to break the fragile shell of calm that had settled around her. She let out a sob and hid her face in her left arm, her right one hanging useless by her side. This was all so unreal—like a bad dream! How could her entire life be ripped away from her, ruined in a few short, savage, bloody minutes? How could—
Her thoughts were interrupted by a wet, warm sensation bathing her wounded hand.
“What—?”
Blinking away tears, she looked up to see Keller bent over her hand, licking her torn flesh with long, slow, methodical strokes of his tongue.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, her voice coming out low and choked. “Why are you—?”
Keller ignored her and kept licking. He had a look of intense concentration on his face, and he seemed to be intent on bathing her injuries completely with his tongue.
“Keller—” she began, and then her forefinger twitched. “Oh my God,” she whispered.
Keller seemed to notice the twitch as well. Without saying a word, he sucked her wounded finger between his lips, enveloping it completely in the heat of his mouth.
Samantha gave a surprised gasp as she watched him. Slowly she began to realize that the numbness was leaving her hand. Not only that, but her thumb was moving easily now—essentially doing what she told it to do.
At last Keller released her hand, letting her finger slide from between his lips with a last, sucking kiss that sent shivers through her.
“Try it now,” he said, his voice low and urgent.
Samantha lifted her hand and looked at it, turning it back and forth in the bright overhead glow of the fluorescent lighting.
The first thing she noticed was that the deep, savage bite mark in the webbing between her thumb and finger was now completely gone. In fact, her hand looked as though it had never been hurt at all. And when she tried to move her pointer finger, it actually moved. Not just a twitch either—it moved in the direction she wanted it to.
For all intents and purposes, she appeared to be healed.
She looked at Keller in wonder and sniffed, swiping an arm across her eyes.
“How . . . I don’t understand.”
“Is it better? Completely?” He was still looking at her anxiously, his head bent down toward hers, his broad shoulders bowed with worry.
“I think so.” Lightly, she touched the tip of her finger to her thumb. The feeling in both digits was completely restored—the sensitivity perfect.
“Thank God.” He took her hand again and kissed it this time. “Now we need to see about the rest of you. Come on.”
Scooping her up in his arms, he took her to the bedroom.
“Keller, what are you doing? And how did you do this?” Samantha demanded, waving her hand in front of his face as he set her down.
“I’ll explain in a minute.” He flipped on the lights and surveyed the room grimly.
It looked like a crime scene, Samantha thought with a shiver. Splotches of drying crimson covered the sheets, and the pillows were smeared with gory streaks of ruby red.
“Oh my God,” she whispered as the reality of the attack hit her all over again. “It—he tried to kill me! I—”
“Not in here,” Keller muttered. He went to the closet and pulled out the puffy white complimentary bathrobe—the kind the hotel charges two hundred dollars to your account for if it goes missing. Wrapping it around her shoulders, he lifted Samantha again and carried her through the plush hotel room.
“Wait a minute—where are you taking me?” she asked as he carried her out the front door.
“To my room. For healing and for your own protection. I should have put us in the same room in the first place, but I didn’t think you’d agree to it.”
“I probably wouldn’t have.” Samantha still felt sort of numb and shaky. “I didn’t believe I was really in danger. Was . . . was that thing really a Hyena Shifter?”
/> “Yes,” he said shortly. He looked at her earnestly as he opened the door of his own room and carried her inside. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you earlier, Samantha. I came the minute I heard you scream—”
“You got to me as fast as you could.” She lifted her hand. “And you healed me and saved my career. Although I’m still not sure how.”
“I’ll tell you while I heal the rest of you.” He carried her through his own suite and into a bedroom that was identical to her own—minus the streaks of blood.
“The rest of me?” Samantha asked uncertainly as he set her gently on the side of the bed and sat beside her.
“Yes, baby—those wounds are deep.” He looked at her seriously. “You have to let me tend them.”
“Okay, but you’re still dripping wet,” Samantha pointed out. “Do you want to change first? And maybe you can tell me how the hell you can get results with a few swipes of your tongue that would be impossible for the best hand surgeon in the world.”
“I told you that Cougars have special healing abilities, right?”
Keller went over to an elegant brown-leather case filled with neatly folded clothes and pulled out a pair of blue satin pajama bottoms.
“Well, yes—but I thought you meant you were able to heal yourself.”
“We’re able to heal others too—females our bodies have an interest in.” He gave her a sidelong glance as he slid off his wet sleep trousers, leaving them in a sodden heap on the floor. “Potential mates.”
“Uh . . .” Samantha wasn’t sure what to say to that. She tried hard not to stare at his muscular bare ass as he changed. “But I can’t be a potential mate. I’m not a Juvie.”
“That’s why I wasn’t sure it would work,” Keller admitted. “But I had to try. I think it worked because you have the Shifter Gene. Even though it’s not active, it still makes your body react to mine.”
“Okay.” The idea of her body reacting to his certainly seemed true to Samantha, especially after the way she’d had to talk herself out of sleeping with him earlier that night. “Does that mean you can, uh, heal the rest of me too?” she asked as he pulled on his new sleep bottoms and turned to face her. “Because I have to tell you, I’m in serious pain here.”
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