by Erica Woods
“Uhm, yes?” Who else would I have gone with?
“You shouldn’t go alone,” he gritted out through a clenched jaw, tugging me under one arm and glaring across the landscape beyond the stables. A vein pulsated near his temple.
“I know the way back,” I muttered when he kept his angry gaze glued to something in the distance. “And I wasn’t snooping.”
Narrowed eyes shot to mine, the unnatural glow beautiful despite his anger. “I know,” he snapped. “Just don’t—”
A shadow came barreling around the corner of the barn, nearly crashing into us. “Ruarc,” Jason hissed. Puffs of hot air drifted over my cheek as he panted, standing so close I could count each individual fleck of gold in his eyes. Eyes that were rapidly changing between warm brown and glowing amber. “Why the hell did you slam the door in my face? Didn’t you see me?”
I inched away from Ruarc, my attention glued to Jason’s inhuman eyes. That . . . that couldn’t be normal. Eyes weren’t supposed to change color like that, and they definitely shouldn’t glow.
Ruarc bared his teeth. “I did.”
“I searched the whole house before I realized—Oh, forget it.” Jason threw his hands up and shook his head. Then he turned to me, a slow smile spreading over his face as his now brown gaze stopped its perusal and stared at the top of my head. His grin widened as he plucked something out of my hair. “Hay.”
“Hi,” I replied, confused when his smile grew.
“No, love. Hay.” He twirled the offending piece of hay between nimble fingers.
“Oh. Right.” For reasons I didn’t understand, my eyes locked on those hands, a blush staining my cheeks.
Ruarc growled again, a more menacing sound this time. “C’mere.” He gripped my hand and tugged.
I stumbled back into his body, his right arm ending around my waist, our sides plastered together.
“Oh,” I breathed.
So warm. He was so very warm. Heat emanated off his big frame like he was a giant, live coal. My cheek pressed against the coarse material of his shirt, the chest below rock hard and solid. Everywhere we touched, I burned like I was being branded.
The scent of him swept over me. Rich. Masculine. Wild.
I looked up, past his broad shoulders, past his scar, past the dark scruff covering his jaw.
My breath hitched.
The look in his molten, silver eyes made something low in my belly clench. He dipped his chin, stared down at me in a way that was purely Ruarc; pushing, demanding, sheltering. And offering all of himself for me to judge.
A flutter in my chest, my heart skipping a beat before racing, racing, racing . . . If it beat any faster I’d pass out.
Ruarc’s gaze moved to my parted lips. Parted to allow the rush of air struggling to escape my tight lungs.
Everything inside me clenched.
What is happening to me?
Right before my chest could explode, Jason snorted. Whatever strange spell had seized me in its exhilarating hold collapsed. I looked away, blushed when I spotted Jason rolling his eyes at Ruarc and muttering something under his breath.
Ruarc didn’t seem bothered in the least. There was a grim sort of satisfaction in the way his lips tugged up at the corners, displaying two sharp canines.
Those look a little too sharp, don’t they? I thought, staring at gleaming, white teeth that rivaled any wild predator’s. As I watched, his lips firmed, hiding the canines from view. The hand holding mine clenched once before relaxing, and he began walking us toward the house.
Jason cleared his throat, coming up on my other side. “Would you like to watch a movie with us, love?”
“A movie? I—Yes, I’d like that.” I was still shaky. How could these men, these relative strangers, inspire such intense, foreign sensations? What did they mean? Why did my body feel warm and shivery at the same time, while flutters contracted my belly in a way that was far from unpleasant?
“Don’t concentrate so hard, love,” Jason teased. “You don’t have to pick the movie. Ruarc will.” He clapped Ruarc on the shoulder, expression so impish he suddenly looked five years younger.
Ruarc glared back. “Pup . . .”
Jason snatched his hand back, and I wondered if there had been some hidden warning in that one word.
“Relax, you big grump.” A quick laugh and a dodge as Jason moved far enough away that Ruarc’s lazy swipe missed him. “Your taste isn’t that bad. You selected a good movie back in ninety-three . . .”
Opting to ignore the teasing, Ruarc opened the gate between the hedges that separated their backyard from the rest of their property, and led me through. His attentiveness brought a smile to my face and a lightness to my steps. The way his big palm engulfed mine, the way his other hand held my elbow, guiding me over a root here and a big rock there, the way he kept scanning the landscape as if making sure no threat loomed in the distance made me feel protected. Cared for. Intellectually, I knew these gestures of protectiveness wouldn’t save me from an attack if the Hunters found me, but somehow, being near him, having him take care of me in his very Ruarc-y way . . .
It made me feel safe.
Of course, it couldn’t last, and when that feeling of safety shattered, it shattered with such ferocity that I wondered how the two men next to me hadn’t heard it break.
I became the marble statue I’d compared Lucien to, unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but stand frozen and stare.
“God dammit!” Ruarc snarled, glaring at the strangers in our backyard. Jason leapt ahead of me, both of them using their bodies to shield me from view.
To shield me . . .
I was still a statue. My lungs screamed for air and my tongue felt thick and dry. But now that they’d tried to hide me, I knew the threat was real and terror punched down my throat. It was like trying to swallow the ocean; for every bit of water pouring into my stomach, a gallon more waited its turn. It would never end. I’d be left a bloated corpse, drowned by the kind of primordial fear that left you shivering in a corner, unable to open your eyes for fear of what you’d see.
Someone said something, but all I heard was a buzz.
My mind swam with images, drowned me in possibilities, each one worse than the next. Then my treacherous brain conjured an image that shriveled my lungs until what little air they’d been able to draw through my tight throat died. An image of the Hunter I despised the most.
All I could see was him, his dark thin frame as he leaned over me, glasses almost falling off his crooked nose while he scribbled notes in his journal. All I could smell was blood. My blood. Metallic and sharp, rapidly cooling on skin that felt frozen. Knives. So many knives. Silver gleaming in the low, yellow light from the overhead lamp. And all I could hear was the scrape of his pen. The sound of something being crossed out. The sound that meant it would start all over again.
My lungs burned, and far, far away, I heard voices.
“They’re early.” Jason. But not the normal Jason. A hard-edged, chilling Jason.
“Fuck!” A snarl. Violent and furious. Ruarc.
I blinked, and though the silver knives disappeared, I saw only blackness. Blackness tinged with red spots.
“Jason!” A hiss. Then hands on my shoulders.
“Hope? Hope!”
Gathered against a wide chest, Ruarc’s wild scent replaced the smell of my blood. My knees buckled, but I was already close to the ground.
He’s kneeling?
“Deep breaths, Hope,” Ruarc said. A huge hand came to lay flat against my chest, pressing ever so slightly.
My lungs contracted, and my mouth opened in an airless gasp.
“Breathe.” The heat from Ruarc’s palm seeped into my skin. Somehow, it melted the constraints squeezing my lungs, and the first, thin slice of air was gulped down. “There you go, m’eudail. Again.”
I gulped down another mouthful, my burning lungs screaming.
“Is she having a panic attack?”
I sensed ra
ther than saw Jason squatting next to us. He grabbed one of my hands, brought it to his mouth.
Ruarc ignored him. “You’re safe,” he murmured in a gruff voice, stroking my face with his free hand. “Take a slow breath in, hold it for a second, then out.”
I did as he said, his steady focus stabilizing me. Once. Twice. Finally my lungs stopped their painful protest, and my breathing grew smoother.
I opened my eyes.
“Thank you.” My voice was hoarse and wispy, the sound of helplessness made into being.
Too weak. You’re too weak, Hope.
Why couldn’t I let go of my fear? Of what had been done to me?
I knew it wasn’t realistic to expect to be one-hundred-percent trauma-free after only a bit over a week, but did I have to be this pathetic?
“Hope . . .” A finger nudged my chin up, forcing me to meet Ruarc’s gaze. It burned. “Don’t be sad.” A command, but a soft one.
I blinked back sudden, unbidden tears, and then my face was buried in his chest while Jason stroked my head.
“You don’t have to be scared, love,” Jason whispered near my ear. “The males that are here . . . We know them. They aren’t here for you. In fact,” he added, pausing midstroke, “they were scheduled to arrive. Remember Ash’s phone call this morning?”
I nodded jerkily, Ruarc’s shirt rasping against my wet cheek. The fact that they were expected slowed my racing heart. If they’d called in advance, they couldn’t be too dangerous. They wouldn’t have been allowed entrance if they were.
At some point, I must have begun to trust the guys, because I believed they wouldn’t knowingly put me in danger.
“You see, love,” Jason said with forced cheer. “There is nothing for you to worry about.”
Pulling away from Ruarc, I brushed the hair blocking my view aside. “Then why—” I took a deep breath, gathering my courage. Why was it so hard to question them? To believe that I deserved answers? “Wh-why did you react like—Why did you jump in front of me?”
The way Ruarc tensed made me think Jason was underplaying it when he said, “It just took us by surprise, love. That’s all. They weren’t supposed to be here for another hour or so.”
“Really?” I looked at Ruarc, trying to read the emotions playing across his rugged features. Mouth set in a grim line, expression taut, slashing eyebrows pulled low over glowering eyes . . . He looked ready to commit murder. More so when the vein at his temple began pulsing, and I could hear the grind of his teeth.
But then he looked down at me and I was too slow to hide the way my hands shook. There was a sound, like thunder in the distance, before his expression softened and he put his hand at the back of my neck. “You’re safe.” The statement held utter confidence and was devoid of any trace of doubt. It was said the same way you would explain to a child seeing the dark for the first time that no matter how it seemed, the sun would always rise again tomorrow.
I slumped, allowed myself to relax, to give into the hand at my neck pulling me closer. “Okay,” I whispered into the crook of his throat. “Okay.” More fear drained away as Ruarc dragged his nose over my temple.
A strangled sound, half growl and half something else. I pulled back, peeking up at Jason’s frowning face, and something akin to shame boiled up and left a ragged tear in my chest.
What am I doing?
Before I could dwell on any foreign feelings, Jason tensed and let loose a furious growl. Ruarc jumped to his feet, spun around, and snarled with such savage aggression that all the hairs on my body rose.
“What a warm welcome,” an unfamiliar voice drawled.
I scrambled to my feet but couldn’t see the owner of the voice—Jason and Ruarc stood with their backs to me, blocking the stranger from view.
“Move.” Ruarc’s voice was warbled, like he was trying to speak with his mouth filled with glass.
Someone else laughed, a tinny sound I instantly disliked. “What are you hiding there, man?”
Ruarc stepped forward, his whole body vibrating with fury. Before he could throw himself at the newcomers and tear them to pieces—and there was no doubt in my mind that was exactly what would happen if a confrontation ensued—Jason put a hand on his shoulder. Their eyes met. Ruarc’s glowing with violence while Jason’s showed steely restrain. Silent communication seemed to pass between them until Ruarc jerked his chin in a gesture only Jason understood.
“Mind your manners, Tim,” the first voice said, much harsher now than the laid back humor of before.
“Blake,” Jason inclined his head, the movement stiff. “Why are you not at the house with Ash?”
“Heard something here, thought maybe it was Ash coming back from the stables.”
I tried to peek around the guys, but Jason’s firm grip on my arm stopped me in my tracks. “He’s not.”
“I can see that.” There was humor in Blake’s voice, warmth too. It was clear he knew my guys.
The guys, not my guys, I silently corrected.
Sudden snarls erupted, and I stumbled back. My foot got caught on something, and down I went.
“Hope!” Jason’s frantic call would have worried me if I wasn’t concentrating so hard on calming my erratic heart. Three strange faces hovered above Ruarc’s shoulder as he knelt in front of me, feverishly running his hands all over my body.
“You hurt?” he growled.
I shook my head, unable to make my dry throat cooperate enough to form words.
“Sorry if we scared you, darling,” the voice I knew as Blake drawled. He was tall, almost as tall as Ruarc, with striking features you rarely saw outside magazines. The way he carried himself made him seem older than he surely was, maybe around thirty-five? His short, black hair was tousled with a carelessness that bordered on indifference—and who could have blamed him? A man that good-looking didn’t need to primp.
To his right, a veritable giant stood guard. His expressionless face, bald head, and dark eyes made him seem downright scary.
“It’s . . . it’s human!” the man with the thin voice gasped. The one they’d called Tim.
My gaze flew to his mouth, not believing he’d said what I thought he had.
Did he call me an ‘it’? And said I was human, like that was abnormal?
I froze while my gaze was still locked on his lips. Was it some kind of cruel prank? Did he somehow sense the monster inside me, calling me human to throw me off?
A sneer twisted his face, and a low, threatening sound rose from a frame I would have thought much too thin to create such a sinister sound. He took a step toward me, menace radiating from every inch, lips peeling back to reveal teeth that—
A terrible roar tore through the air, hanging there like a dreadful storm about to descend and wreak havoc on the world. Ruarc was a blur. He crashed into Tim, and the other man went down, limbs flailing and eyes wide.
Ruarc put a hand around Tim’s throat and snarled.
For a single moment, they were still. Then Tim bared his teeth and looked around Ruarc. He found me, beady eyes dragging up my front with a slow insolence that made my skin crawl. “The human bitch shou—”
All hell broke loose. The noises they made would forever stay with me. The meaty thuds of fists striking flesh. The quiet, almost soundless grunts they made when a punch landed. The thunder crashing in Ruarc’s chest.
Though Tim had gotten up when Ruarc had followed his gaze to look at me, it didn’t take Ruarc long to knock him back down. Once more, Ruarc had Tim by the throat, but instead of giving up, the other male clawed at Ruarc’s arm, leaving deep, bloodied gouges.
“J-Jason?” I tugged on the nearest sleeve, unable to look away from the brutal battle. Though Tim was still fighting, trying to reach Ruarc’s face with one hand and throwing dirt at his eyes with the other, he stood no chance. Lying there, he had no choice but to accept the merciless beating being delivered in grim silence.
Nausea bubbled, my stomach cramped. I looked to Jason, hoping he would put a stop to the fig
ht, but to my disbelief, he looked completely on board. Mouth an unforgiving line of grisly satisfaction, the steel I occasionally glimpsed in his eyes returned in full force.
He had no intention of stopping this fight.
This was not a side of him I’d been allowed to see. This steely-eyed stranger had hidden beneath Jason’s quick wit and playful smiles. What other aspects of himself did he hide away from the world?
A guttural cry tore from Tim.
“S-stop,” I croaked, terrified Ruarc would kill the man. Not because I harbored any love for Tim, but because I didn’t want Ruarc to go to jail!
Or commit murder, my mind added as an afterthought. No one deserved to carry around that sort of guilt.
The scary man, the one I didn’t know the name of, jerked around to stare at me. There was something in his eyes, something dead and flat that terrified me to my core. Whatever it was, he didn’t let it bleed into the rest of his expression, almost like he’d contained it to his eyes, to that one part of him, and wouldn’t let it touch anything else.
I shivered.
“That’s probably enough, don’t you think?” Rather than be upset at the beating of one of his friends, Blake sounded bored.
Growling, Ruarc delivered one last punch, got to his feet, and slowly stepped to my side.
He wouldn’t meet my gaze.
A gasp flew out before I could stop it. “Your hand!” Blood coated the skin, the crisscrossing of white scars invisible below the dark red fluid. Reaching out, I carefully ran my finger over his knuckles in search of broken bones and open wounds.
“Not hurt,” he grunted in that gruff way of his.
I gaped at him, realizing all the blood belonged to Tim.
The gashes on his arms . . . I could no longer see them. Had my eyes played tricks on me? Was it not wounds but blood from Tim sprayed in a weird pattern?
“Not bad,” Jason said. He shot me a grin, dissolving the tension among the guys left standing.
Ruarc bared his teeth. I wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a threat or another attempt at smiling, but I guessed the latter. “Pup needed to learn,” he growled, casting a disgusted glance at the motionless man on the ground.
“Is he . . . is he dead?” While the aspect disturbed me, I was fully prepared to help Ruarc find a shovel and hide the body.