The Beholder

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The Beholder Page 12

by Connie Hall


  “You’re right, I should.” She knocked his hand away and ran back down the path. “And don’t ever touch me again.”

  “Nina!” His bellow echoed through the woods like a shotgun blast.

  But she kept wading through the snow. She got in a parting shot and yelled over her shoulder, “And don’t speak to me again unless you shift. Your beast is so much more likable than you.” She rarely lost her temper. It felt great to yell at him—to yell at anyone.

  Pig-headed man that he was. He’d just denied wanting her, but she knew he desired her; she had felt his lust. In fact, she felt the intense untamed need within him to feel stroked and desired by her. She had wanted to make him admit as much. But she had her pride, and he’d stomped on it. She hadn’t been prepared for the rejection or the sharp pain in her heart that it had caused.

  When she reached the cabin, she ran to the bedroom and locked herself inside, berating herself for being so openly demonstrative and wearing her heart on her sleeve. He was a brute, a beast, not worth caring about. She buried her face in a pillow and sobbed in earnest.

  Kane marched into the house, cursing his weakness around her. She had shut the bedroom door, and he paused there. With his acute hearing, he listened to muffled crying. He took a step toward the door, then froze, his fists clenching. Oh, God, he’d never wanted to hurt her. Never wanted to feel indebted to her for saving his life, to witness her caring side. He hadn’t wanted to lose control and take her like an animal, but he had. He didn’t want any of this. Yet not comforting her was the hardest thing he had ever done in his life. But if he went to her now, he’d soothe her, and that would lead to full-blown, in-the-raw sex. After that one little taste of her, he felt frustrated, unsatisfied and still throbbing for her. He had to admit he’d never get his fill of Nina Rainwater. He had to control this lust, or it would open up a Pandora’s box.

  And one thing he couldn’t understand was why she had said she preferred his beast to him. Talk about a blow. She had no idea what he could unleash on her. She’d never find out, either. No, he’d vowed never to let himself get close enough to a woman to repeat the same mistake he’d made with Daphne. Nina was his prisoner, nothing more. And damn it, she was going to stay that way.

  And part of his losing control was her fault. Why hadn’t she pulled away from him like she was supposed to, like she’d done in the past? No, she’d gone running into his arms. He’d never forget her face as she’d done it, either. The concern he’d seen there was real. No way she could have faked the frantic look in her eyes, that look of concern.

  He’d seen it in Daphne’s eyes. No matter how bitter and disappointed she had become at not giving him children, her gaze had always softened when she had looked at him. And that’s what still haunted him. That trusting gaze. Had she looked at him that way before he’d torn her to pieces? In his nightmares, Daphne’s expression tortured him night after night. He’d wake up right before he bit her, sweating, gasping, the image of Daphne’s trusting face burned into his psyche. And when he’d seen that same expression on Nina’s face before he kissed her and lost all his self-control, it had driven him to the brink. That’s when Nina had tried to respond to him again. Daphne’s face had flashed in his mind, and he’d had the good sense to push Nina away. She had looked so open and hurt and betrayed, eyes glistening with tears. He thought he’d felt all the torment he could, but having seen her expression and hearing her cry now was ten thousand times worse. He couldn’t let himself go down that path again. Not with someone as sensitive and vulnerable as Nina Rainwater. He couldn’t. He had to make her loathe him. That shouldn’t be too hard.

  He walked into the kitchen, his shoulder and arm burning, along with a lower body part. He could smell Nina all over him, tormenting him. He went to the Jeep, found a pair of clean jeans and a shirt he’d packed, then took a cold sponge bath. He cleaned his wounds, applied pressure to his shoulder. When the bleeding stopped, he bandaged it himself. Then he dressed.

  His thoughts strayed back to her as he yanked a bottle of wine out of the rack and broke it on the counter. Chunks of glass shot out all over the kitchen. He tipped it up and drank from the jagged edge. He needed to numb his mind to her. The merlot tasted bitter and sour, but he chugged it anyway.

  Chapter 9

  Nina woke, her mouth wet with drool. She had fallen asleep with her face in the pillow and Daphne’s coat still on. Darkness covered the bedroom. What time was it? It felt like the middle of the night. And it was freezing, too, not an ounce of warmth in the room.

  She pulled a quilt off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. Through the small window, she stared at the moon. The glowing globe shot an eerie shimmering gray over the snow. Shadows darkened the most recent trail of footprints she and Kane had left in the snow. The humiliation of finding him burned through her all over again. But she couldn’t stay in this room. She was starving, thirsty and cold.

  She grimaced and felt her way to the door. Complete silence made the cabin sound like a tomb. The generator >had stopped running outside. She sensed Kane inside, but where was he?

  Earlier she’d heard thumps or loud crashes, like glass breaking. But she refused to open her door and find out what Kane was doing and went right back to sleep. Not that a locked door would have kept him out if he had wanted to come into the bedroom. But it had established her territory, and being part feral creature that he was, he’d respected that. Thank goodness.

  It had given her time to nurse her wounds and smother any delusions she might have harbored of caring about him. She also had a plan for ditching Kane and tracking his brother that she would implement in the morning—if he was asleep. She had only let him believe she was his prisoner to make sure he was okay. Well, he seemed fit enough if he could go tramping in the woods after his brother, and she was done worrying about him.

  She straightened her spine, summoning her courage, then eased open the door and peeked out into the living room.

  Empty, save for the hiss of the fire. He’d thrown logs on the grate some time ago, and they were slow-burning embers now, casting flickering shadows over the empty couch. She heard a chair creaking from his weight in the kitchen, the very room that held food.

  She cursed her luck. She had hoped he’d be asleep. She heard the scratch of rough material sliding against material, then a thump, thump. What was he doing?

  Candlelight flickered from the kitchen, so he wasn’t in total darkness. It probably wouldn’t matter if he was, with his acute sense of sight. She wished her powers had come with some kind of superhuman physical strengths.

  She inhaled deeply and grabbed a candle from the fireplace mantel, lit it as quietly as she could, then padded into the kitchen. She knew he had heard her because the thumping had stopped. Gingerly she walked into the kitchen, the candle held high. When she saw him, she stopped.

  Three broken wine bottles gleamed on the table near him. They lay on their sides, empty. He sat in a chair with two hiking backpacks at his feet, stuffing a sleeping bag in one of them. His eyes glistened in the light like sharp pieces of jade, his expression menacing, deep frown wrinkles creasing his brow. An air of wary aggressiveness hovered about him, as if she were his enemy and he was contemplating her every move. He had never looked more dangerous.

  For a moment she only eyed him. He seemed wired; his body had grown rigid the instant she had walked into the room. His piercing gaze stayed on her.

  “You’re up.” His deep bass voice broke the frigid silence.

  “Yes.”

  “You’re wearing her clothes.” His eyes slowly traveled the length of her body, taking in the jeans and jacket beneath the blanket around her shoulders.

  When his eyes settled on her breasts, she felt her face redden. Their last encounter became a vivid rewind, and she felt his hot mouth on hers and his large hands exploring her body. With agonizing slowness and clarity, every frame moved through her mind. She recalled what happened afterward, how he’d hurt her. Thankfully that wip
ed the explicit images from her mind. She pointed to the rolled-up cuffs of the jacket to distract his roving eyes and said, “A little long.”

  He merely grunted, his gaze still eating her alive.

  It was so intense she felt her skin prickling and tingling. “Why are you still up?” she asked, forcing a bored tone into her words. “Can’t sleep.”

  Most people looked really bad when they didn’t get any sleep, bags under the eyes, sunken cheeks, dazed sleepwalking look. Not him. His eyes were sharp green glass. His five o’clock shadow had darkened on his chin. His golden hair fell down to his shoulders in waves. And oh, boy, he looked good, even more handsome. She just wished he’d stop staring at her like she was a tasty morsel he was about to crunch down on. He had no right, after pulling away from her.

  “What are you doing?” she asked tersely.

  “Packing. We’re finding Ethan.”

  She hadn’t expected this turn of events, and her mouth dropped open. So much for her plan. She had hoped to find him asleep and tie him up, but that wasn’t going to happen. When she could speak again, she said, “But your wounds.”

  “I have found a great painkiller.” He motioned to the broken bottles.

  “But the Jeep is snowed in.”

  “We’re going on foot.”

  “There’s fifteen inches of snow out there.” She jabbed a finger toward the window.

  “He won’t expect us to be on foot, and we might have the element of surprise.”

  She set down the candle on the counter and said, “This is crazy. We’ll both be sitting ducks. He could kill us at any time.”

  “He won’t hurt you as long as you’re with me.”

  “What if I’m not with you?” She jammed her arms on her hips.

  “You will be.”

  “You’re assuming an awful lot.”

  He leaped up, stepping over the backpack, his height and size dwarfing her. He wasn’t favoring his wounded shoulder. The wine must have worked its magic. He didn’t even look tired, or tipsy, only arrogant and smug and willfully capable of anything. “It’s not an assumption,” he said, his voice soft with threat.

  A tremor shook her. She smelled wine on his breath, mixing with his own feral musk, and she had a hard time concentrating. She couldn’t meet his eyes and not want to touch him, so she stared at his burly chest. At least he was wearing a shirt, a clean blue flannel. Golden chest hair peeked above the top two open buttons. She remembered running her hands over his chest—get a grip, will you?

  She counted the buttons on his shirt, six, and cleared her mind enough to say, “Whatever it is, I don’t appreciate being bullied. But I guess you can’t help being like that, now can you? A leopard never loses his spots.” She was surprised at the calm evenness in her voice. “And don’t think for one minute that what happened between us gives you the right to make decisions concerning my life. I’m going because I agreed to help you—” and she needed to destroy his brother “—but it’s not because you’re ordering me to go. And you were right, our little interlude shouldn’t have happened. It was a big mistake.” She thrust out her arms wide, showing him just how large a blunder it was. She hoped that gave him something to chew on. See how he liked getting some of his own medicine back.

  “Fine.” His voice’s sharp edge sent chills through her. “Now we leave.”

  She turned, but he grabbed her shoulder, his fingers digging into her skin. He bent until his lips almost touched her neck. Then he said, “By the way, lions don’t have spots, and we have much bigger fangs.” He gave her a Cheshire smile, showing all his white gleaming teeth, the points of his fangs evident.

  His hot breath sent goose bumps down her neck. For a minute she felt her heart stop as she wondered what he would do next. Part of her, the part that melted around him, hoped he’d kiss her.

  Suddenly, he released her.

  That was for the best, she told herself. At least she could think. And she didn’t think much of his harassing tactics. Well, she wasn’t about to let him know that he affected her at all. If he could be cold and heartless, so could she. Her stomach ached with hunger, and she found the courage to ask, “Have you packed food?”

  “Yes, but those are our provisions.” He rummaged through the cabinet and handed her a box of toaster pastries. “That should hold you. Now, let’s go. You might need this.” He picked up the quilt that had dropped on the floor and draped it over her shoulders. He pulled a pair of Daphne’s pink ski gloves from one backpack.

  “Here, put them on.”

  Nina did his bidding, knowing she could wear twenty pairs of gloves and still be cold out there in the snow. In fact, she didn’t think she’d ever warm up around him—unless they had sex again. That would be Hawaiian paradise in the middle of a Blue Ridge Mountains winter. She had to admit the heat in his body made her the warmest she’d ever felt in her life. And when she thought of their coupling in the woods, it still made her insides do strange things. But he’d pulled away from her emotionally, and she didn’t know how to reach him, or even if she wanted to be hurt like that again.

  She had no idea how this would play out when she met his brother again. It irked her that her powers wouldn’t work on Kane and that she might have lost them for good. They might not work on the gleaner, either. When she was alone she’d call Koda and find out if he knew what was wrong.

  Kane zipped up the backpacks and hefted them both over his good shoulder. They must have weighed fifty pounds apiece. They bulged with sleeping bags, a tent and cooking gear. He handled them like they weighed hardly more than a pencil.

  “If you’re so certain he won’t hurt you, why didn’t he just come in and speak to you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. That’s why I have to talk to him.”

  “Do you have any idea what brought him home?”

  “Must be a good reason. I just have to find out what it is. Now, get moving.”

  He gave her a little nudge out the door. Cold air hit her, and she cringed. The moon beamed silver dust over the snow, glistening bluish gray. But the moonlight couldn’t penetrate the darkness that engulfed the forest. At the edge of the cabin’s backyard, the dried and dead limbs clawed out from the forest and grasped at anything that moved. The lethal appearance of the forest made her shiver. She wrapped the quilt tighter around her shoulders and trudged forward, her hiking boots slipping on her heels and Kane breathing down her neck.

  “What’s the matter?”

  When Kane touched Nina’s shoulder, she stumbled in the snow. He caught her elbow before she fell. She’d been absorbed in reading a distant emotion and hadn’t been paying attention. He had her full awareness now.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “I’m okay,” she said, a little disoriented, because Kane’s impressions and the other signal were coming at her in stereo. She blocked his out and zeroed in on the other perception. The cold dulled her reception somewhat, but the agony she sensed was excruciating. “Oh my gosh!” She gripped her waist with both arms as a shiver tore through her.

  “What is it?”

  “Something I’ve picked up.” She shrank from his touch.

  He regarded her with chagrined bewilderment, as if she had surprised him by her reaction.

  She added, “Sorry, but you’re breaking the connection.”

  “To what?”

  “I don’t know. A creature’s in trouble. I hope your gleaner hasn’t struck again.” She shot Kane a reproachful look. She didn’t like thinking of Ethan as a person, or calling him by name, so “gleaner” would have to do.

  “Didn’t you say you’d lost his trail on the deer path?”

  “Yes.” She’d been following his emotional trail for close to an hour. About a mile back she had lost any sense of him, and she was certain he’d shut down his thoughts on purpose. She believed he was leading them on a wild-goose chase and enjoying every minute of it, then this new feeling had struck her.

  “It isn’t Ethan. He wouldn�
�t have attacked so close to us.”

  “You have a lot more confidence in him than I do. I think he’s capable of anything, including setting a trap for us.” Nina eyed the forest around them. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, or an impending feeling that something bad was about to happen.

  “He could have killed you, but he didn’t. You’re safe as long as you are with me,” Kane said, impatience sharpening his words.

  She doubted that. The only way they were both safe was if her powers were working. She hadn’t been able to contact Koda, so she had no idea if she was defenseless.

  His voice broke into her thoughts. “Are the sensations strong enough to track?”

  “Yes.” Nina held her aching temples and stood very still. Like the dowser she was, her internal compass instantly found the point where the emotion was strongest. At least that part of her powers was still working. She pointed north. “It’s coming from there. But it’s off the trail we were following.”

  “Head that way.”

  She started toward the emotion’s origin, but Kane’s large hand gripped her shoulder. “Let me go first.”

  “Okay, I’ll point the way.” At his touch, she perceived his bravery and concern and need to dominate the situation.

  He stepped in front of her, and she was glad to let him blaze the trail. He carried the backpacks on his left shoulder, so she fell in on his right side. Evidently, she wasn’t close enough to suit him, so his gloved fingers slipped into hers.

  Nina stared down at their joined hands. His fingers were so long they wrapped totally around her hand. They felt strong and warm, fitting so naturally around hers. She could easily get used to this attention. She should break the contact, but she couldn’t, and she found herself squeezing his fingers tighter, which earned her a curious look from his piercing eyes. And she felt his emotional meter heat up again. His gaze softened for a brief second; then he was back on alert, scanning the woods for signs of his brother.

 

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