She finally glanced up at him, and he knew that she was trying her best to give him a smile but was failing miserably. She had to be freaking the fuck out.
And, he really couldn’t say that he blamed her one damn bit.
He had sensed from the moment he had lifted her from the raging waters that she was a paranormal being, but as to what exactly she was…he didn’t have a clue.
It was too soon to tell.
“Stay here,” he instructed. “I’m going to go get you a cup of tea with some brandy and honey. It’ll help your throat.”
He waited until she nodded again before standing and heading toward the kitchen, hoping above hope that he had some damn tea in the house.
She watched him intently as he left the room, trying hard not to let her eyes linger on his amazing backside as he did, but found the task nearly impossible. She may not know who she was or what had happened to her, but she sure as hell wasn’t dead either, and she would have had to be not to notice what a perfect specimen of the male gender he was! Broad, muscular shoulders, tapered waist and thick, strong thighs. Holy Geez! It was the stuff dreams were made of.
She moved back to the middle of the giant bed and braced herself against the solid wood headboard, looking around the room once she had comfortably re-settled herself.
If she had to guess, she would have to say that she was in the master suite, simply because of the size of the room. It was enormous! It was airy and open and tastefully done up in rich dark tones. Beautiful dark woods filled the space, and she found herself taking a deep breath and breathing in the scent of what smelled like leather and cinnamon in the air as it tickled her nose. She sucked it into her lungs greedily. It was a smell that was masculine and comforting and so much better than the swampy odor of the river water that seemed to be clinging to her. Not to mention the disgusting taste of algae that she couldn’t seem to get out of her mouth. It hung on like a shroud and was beginning to make her feel queasy.
She chewed at the inside of her cheek, trying her best to dredge up something…anything about herself, but it seemed as if everything about her was gone. Or just far enough out of her reach that she couldn’t grab it, almost as if lost in a thick, dense fog.
She said a silent prayer that her savior was right, and her memory would come flooding back to her once she relaxed.
She reached up and gingerly touched her forehead, wincing in pain as her fingers met the goose-egg-sized knot throbbing right at her hairline. No wonder her head was pounding! Good God! What in the hell had she hit it on?
She closed her eyes and tried to focus on the tea he had promised her. She was suddenly chilled to the bone and the thought of the hot liquid was practically making her mouth water, and she found herself thinking how odd it was that she couldn’t remember anything about who she was. She sighed as she opened her eyes once again, shaking her head slightly. The mind was an amazing thing. A messed up, crazy…amazing thing.
Maddox came strolling back into the room a few moments later, a steaming mug in one hand and two aspirin in the other, and she couldn’t help but think that this total stranger had to be some type of super hero or perhaps a God, and he just might be her new idol.
She took both from him with a grateful smile and tossed the pills into her mouth, unceremoniously chewing them before swallowing them down with difficulty and hoping they would work quicker if she did. She seemed to remember someone telling her that they hit your system much faster this way.
She heard him laugh at what had to be the face she must have made when the awful bitterness of the pills hit her, and she forced herself to swallow once again before giving him a small shrug.
“Believe me, if it’ll knock this headache out any faster and maybe help me to remember who in the heck I am, I can deal with the taste,” she replied with a small chuckle.
He sat back down beside the bed and watched her a moment as she sipped her tea, almost as if he had something pressing on his mind.
“Thank you for this,” she managed to squeak out as she raised the mug in the air as if in salute as she tried to think of something…anything to say. His gaze was disconcerting for some reason, but not in a scary way exactly. Perhaps it was because she was still clueless as to what had happened to her, or what to say to him. This was all so strange, and she was having trouble digesting it all. To not know who you were, yet instinctively know everything else was beyond confusing.
She knew that she liked tea. She knew what aspirin was, and what it was used for. She knew that she loved homemade biscuits and honey in the mornings…why then, didn’t she know her name? Or where she lived?
Or what she was doing when she ended up in the river?
Or just what in the hell she was supposed to answer to for God’s sake? Hey you?
She watched as he reached down and grabbed a backpack that she hadn’t even noticed laying on the floor beside the bed and held it up.
“You had this with you,” he said, handing it over to her. “I really didn’t feel right rifling through your things while you were out cold.” He gave her a quick, playful grin that nearly took the breath from her lungs. “At least not yet,” he joked. “I thought it best to wait until you at least woke up.”
“Thank you,” she responded, setting her cup down on the table and taking the bag from him with hands that trembled slightly. She knew that he was doing his best to lighten a thoroughly sucky situation, but she just wasn’t feeling it. She only hoped that something in the bag would jar her memory.
She opened it and peered inside, only to find some strange type of mushroom and a bunch of herbs, a bottle of water, which was about the last thing she wanted to see at the moment.
Ugh.
There were some other little odds and ends but nothing of any consequence and nothing that jarred her memory. No identification or pictures…nothing. Not a damn thing that might tell her who she might be. She shook her head with a discouraged little sniffle and dropped the bag to the floor, willing herself to not start crying again.
For some reason, she didn’t want her rescuer to think she was a scared, worthless little wimp.
Maddox bit back the grin he could feel making its way to his mouth as he watched her root through her backpack, the scent of mud wort permeating the air around them in a thick and heady cloud, and it hit him like a thunderbolt.
Witch.
She had to be, he silently mused. And, from what he could tell, the little sprite was most likely an earth witch to boot by the looks of it. She must have been out foraging for ingredients when she fell into the river.
Green witches were an interesting breed. They were what most considered to be the tree huggers of the paranormal realm. Or, at least that’s what the more entitled beings called them. The weres, the vampires and even some of the dragon shifters. He, himself, had always been indifferent to them. They were the healers—the nurturers who gathered their strength and magic from the world around them and communed with Mother Earth on the regular.
He had run across a few in his time…had even bedded one or two, but never one as lovely as this little witch. This one he found utterly beguiling.
He debated whether or not he should tell her and decided against it. He would give her some time for her memory to return on its own. He didn’t want to force anything, and he figured it would come back once she relaxed, rested and perhaps got some food in her belly.
Besides, he thought, clearing his throat in a somewhat unsuccessful attempt to cover the chuckle that was building up in his chest…the beautiful little witch was quite intriguing. He actually wouldn’t mind her company during his quest to get away from his mother and that meddling old crone of a seer.
If nothing else, it sure as hell would kill some time in a most interesting way.
“Listen,” he said, standing. “Why don’t I go see what I can rustle us up to eat while you rest a bit. The bathroom’s right through there,” he said pointing toward a door, “so feel free to freshen up, shower, whatever
you’d like. I left you a tee-shirt and some sweats in there, so please, make yourself at home.” He turned to leave, but that sexy as all hell husky voice of hers stopped him cold. It was like a warm finger running up along his spine.
“I don’t want to be a bother, Mr. Westbrook,” she replied softly, that throaty voice of hers sexy as hell.
“First and foremost, it’s Maddox. None of this Mr. Westbrook crap,” he corrected with a wink, “and, secondly, you’re not being a bother at all. Trust me, I’ll enjoy the company. It can get pretty boring out here.”
With that, he headed for the kitchen, giving her some privacy.
Chapter Four
Nico Black rapped on Wynter’s door again, snorting with impatience that she was taking her sweet damn time to answer his knock. He had woken after the storm, feeling edgy and almost claustrophobic, and had decided to drop in on the comely little witch to make sure she had fared through the storm all right…and to once again request that she quit being so damn stubborn and agree to become his mate.
He’d had an epiphany during the night as he’d waited out the storm in bed with one of his wives. The entire time he had been screwing her, he had been unable to get the beautiful little witch out of his thoughts. Her perfect features kept popping into his head, and it had been pretty much the only way he could stomach being with his wife.
He realized his patience had worn so thin, that it was almost to the point of being non-existent, and he was done playing nice. The time had come to simply take what it was he wanted, as he should have years ago.
Her.
He would have done it by now, because God knew patience wasn’t one of his strong points, but the lore of their people was very clear—the mating ritual with a green witch was much sweeter, and so much more powerful when it wasn’t completely forced. He had bided his time and had been giving her the benefit of the doubt that she would grow up and come to her senses eventually and finally submit to him as she should. He was the leader of his pack for Christ’s sake! The little bitch should be falling at his God-damn feet in gratitude that he had even been kind enough to honor her with the offer in the first place. To be mated to the alpha of a pack of were was an honor the lowly little earth witch should have jumped at.
He had had his eye on her from the moment he had first seen her those many years ago as she had cowered in fear. It had been intoxicating. He had easily seen beyond her terror to the strength and willful spirit beneath, and he realized in an instant that it was something he wanted to tame, and he was not about to take no for an answer.
He just wasn’t wired that way. “No” was a word he just didn’t take kindly to.
Especially when it came to his pleasure.
He knocked once again, this time with much more force, before huffing out an angry breath and grabbing the handle. It turned easily in his hand and he pushed the door to the cottage open, knowing that he didn’t have any right to enter her home, but he was done playing around with this shit. The time had come to end all these games.
“Wynter?” he called out, his deep baritone echoing through the house and seeming to bounce off the walls, only to be met with an eerie silence, and he knew in an instant that there was no one here. “Son of a bitch,” he snarled as he sniffed at the air and took her sweet scent into his lungs.
From what he could tell, she hadn’t been in the cottage for at least twenty-four hours, most likely since just before the storm had gone through. Where in the hell she had gone? The thunderstorm had been one of the nastier ones in recent memory, and he hoped she hadn’t been caught out in it. It wouldn’t serve him if she got her gorgeous little ass killed before he had had his way with her. That would just thoroughly piss him the hell off.
He sniffed at the air again as he made his way back through the door and outside into the yard. He carefully studied the paths leading into the woods.
Son of a bitch.
Now, he was going to have to track and chase after the stupid little witch! He cursed again as he made his way back into the forest, thinking to himself that this piece of ass had better be damn well worth his time and trouble!
She walked out of the bathroom forty-five minutes later feeling almost human again. She had stood under the hot, cascading water for longer than she probably should have, but it had just felt so blasted good that she couldn’t seem to help herself. She had let the near scalding water heat her body to the point that her muscles felt like jelly and yet, just couldn’t seem to tear herself away from the glorious shower stall.
She didn’t know who exactly this Maddox Westbrook was, but from what she had seen so far, she couldn’t deny the fact that the man had some damn fine taste!
The shower itself was a magnificent room of marble and brass, masculine yet as gorgeous as the master bedroom, and she found herself feeling somewhat awkward and out of place. Whoever she was, she sure as hell didn’t come from money.
At least not like this kind of money.
She had finally, and reluctantly, forced herself to step from the shower and had thrown on the tee shirt and sweatpants he had left for her, not able to stop the giggle that slipped past her lips at the difference in their sizes. She was positively lost in the garments he had provided for her and she had to cinch the drawstring of the sweatpants to what seemed to be the breaking point just to keep them from dropping down around her ankles. The tee shirt he had left, dropped to below her knees, but it was soft and warm and smelled like sandalwood and sage, and she found herself breathing it in deeply.
Not only was her rescuer stupidly handsome, but he smelled damned good too!
She headed out of the bedroom with the hope of finding him and seeing if she could offer some help. Her headache was nearly gone thankfully, and she needed to do something. She was suddenly feeling edgy and needed to burn off some energy.
By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes…
She came to an abrupt stop in the doorway as the words skittered across her mind. Where in the hell had that come from? And what did it even mean?
She shook her head, brushing the thought away, and continued walking down the hallway towards a large spiral staircase.
She could hear the sound of someone rattling around in the distance as she descended the stairs and followed the clanging of what sounded to be pots and pans.
She found Maddox moving about a kitchen that would pretty much be every chef’s midnight fantasy. Yet, as she looked around the enormous room, she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the man was OCD or something. The kitchen didn’t look like it had been used very often, if at all. The counters and such were pristine—not a speck of grease on the stove or as much as a fingerprint on the jet-black fridge. Not to mention that he looked completely out of his element as he tried to figure out what to do with the utensils set out so painstakingly in front of him.
She bit her lip to keep from laughing at the look of confusion that was scrunching up his near-perfect features.
Oh! Who in the hell was she trying to kid? He was an Adonis! The absolute definition of masculine perfection, if there ever was one. Even the small scar she had noticed running along his brow only served to make him sexier.
Good Lord, she chastised herself with a small shake. Just what in the hell was wrong with her? She might not remember her name but she sure as hell was beginning to think that maybe she was some kind of perv!
She cleared her throat and entered the room. “Need any help?” she asked, forcing her deviant thoughts aside, and walked over to where he stood at the island, completely perplexed and obviously out of his element.
He glanced up and nodded his head gratefully as he studied her a moment, his eyes lingering on the clothing she wore. His lips twitched with humor, and she knew he was trying his best not to laugh at her.
“That would be fantastic,” he breathed, the desperation in his tone more than apparent, even as his voice vibrated from his throat in a low and smoky whisper, and Wynter found herself thinking tha
t she could listen to him speak for hours. It was just that amazing.
“You do look a little lost,” she laughed, moving up beside him. “What have we got here?”
She glanced down at a few boxes of pasta, a can of plain tomato sauce, and what appeared to be an onion, but one that had definitely seen better days. There were a few spices set out, some olive oil, but that was about it.
“I hadn’t really stocked up on anything,” he offered in apology, shrugging his massive shoulders a bit. “There’s meat in the freezer, but...”
“Frozen,” she finished with a grin.
“Solid,” he chuckled in response. “You look much better,” he observed, his eyes lingering on the knot on her forehead. “Have you remembered anything?” he asked as she set to work, rifling through the cabinets in search of some staples that might help to turn the can of sauce into actual sauce.
By the pricking of my thumb, something wicked this way comes…
“No. Nothing,” she responded quickly, unable to fully meet his eyes for some strange reason. She didn’t know why that rhyme kept popping up in her head, but it was beginning to make her feel…off.
She did her best to push away the feeling of unease that was creeping its way up her spine and set to work, hoping she could make something of the meager offerings.
Maddox watched with interest as she moved around the kitchen with the grace of a gazelle. He could tell that she was holding something back, but as to what the was exactly…he couldn’t say. He only hoped that in time she would trust him enough to tell him.
His lips turned up as he studied her. Even in his over-sized clothing, he had to admit that she was breathtakingly beautiful. Stunning actually, and she might as well have been wearing an evening gown, for Christ’s sake. She just looked that good.
She flitted about the room, digging through his pretty much empty cupboards, her now dry hair the color of sun-kissed gold, and he found himself growing more and more intrigued by every aspect of this lovely little vixen.
Wynter's Kiss ( A Paranormal Romance) Page 3