by Maya Banks
As much as he’d love to tell himself he was way overworked, in need of a break, and that he was highly delusional, he knew it wasn’t the case. He was as sane as the next person.
And if he wasn’t insane, then he had to face the fact that the world as he knew it didn’t exist.
He hurriedly collected a first aid kit, towels, and one of his T-shirts. When he returned, she was lying on the couch, eyes closed, her breath coming in shallow bursts.
“Aliyah,” he said softly.
Her eyes opened and once again, he was struck by the beauty of her gaze, how mesmerizing those golden eyes were.
He knelt in front of the couch and gently pulled the blanket away from her wound. Already it was smaller, but it still looked angry. Blood oozed at a much slower rate, but she was still losing too much.
He set to work bandaging the wound and did his best to ignore the curves of her body, tempting though they were. When he’d finished, he handed her the T-shirt. “Do you need help getting it on?” he asked.
She shook her head and pushed herself to sitting position. He stood and discreetly turned his back, though he’d already gotten a view of her breasts.
Was he honest to god lusting over a cat? No, she wasn’t just a cat. She was a woman. A breathtakingly gorgeous woman.
Who happened to also be a cat.
“I’m finished.”
Her husky voice tingled over his ears, and he slowly turned back around. She sat on the couch, leaning away from her injured leg. Her hair was tousled, just the right amount of “messed up” to look incredibly sexy. Her eyes held an almost drugged look, a mixture of incredible fatigue and shock, he was sure. Wearing his T-shirt as she was, she looked just like a woman might after an afternoon of making love.
“Aliyah …we need to talk.”
Worry flashed in her eyes. He didn’t want her to be afraid of him, but he wasn’t sure how to offer her reassurance that he had no intention of hurting her, or betraying her secret. It wasn’t like he could go announcing to the world that he harbored a cheetah-woman. No one would believe him, and he could kiss his job as sheriff good-bye.
Her lips parted then closed again in agitation. “You deserve answers. I know.”
He nodded.
She closed her eyes and pushed her hand through her long hair. “Ask then. I’ll try to answer what I can.”
He stuffed his hands in his jeans pocket and squared his shoulders. “Let’s start with you telling me who you are – what you are.”
CHAPTER 4
Aliyah felt at a distinct disadvantage, and she didn’t like it. The man standing in front of her was intimidating. His gentleness didn’t fool her a bit. He was what her people would call a warrior. A protector. If he were one of her people, only the fiercest of animals could be chosen by the spirit guide to accompany him on his life journey.
“You haven’t told me your name,” she said in an attempt to buy some time. She didn’t feel comfortable revealing too much of herself to this man. Hers was a life of secrecy. She was very careful of whom she trusted. He hadn’t tried to harm her, but she couldn’t be sure of his intentions.
He eased down on one knee in front of her. “My name is Duncan Kennedy. I’m the sheriff here. I only want to help you, Aliyah. But in order to do that, you have to tell me what the hell is going on.”
Law enforcement. She felt a shaft of fear invade her chest, and the cheetah inside her stirred. Her skin came alive, itchy, uncomfortable, and she fought the urge to change. She swallowed and tried to calm her nerves.
“What the hell just happened?” he demanded.
She looked at him in confusion.
“Your eyes. They changed. Just for a moment, but I’m not crazy.”
Automatically, she closed them and turned her head away. He reached out, curled his fingers around her chin and tugged until she faced him again.
“Open your eyes,” he said.
Reluctantly she obeyed. His thumb stroked over her jaw as he stared intently at her. The chill she’d long fought waned, and she was unsure of whether it was because of his touch or his gaze. She felt warmed by both. The rough pad of his thumb scraped across her skin, sending a shiver racing down her neck that contrasted the heat that bloomed under her flesh.
“It was the cheetah, wasn’t it? You were about to change.”
There was a bit of wonder in his voice, as if he were still coming to terms with what she was. Slowly, she nodded.
“When I feel frightened or threatened, the cheetah stirs within me. It’s a protective instinct.”
His brow furrowed. “What frightened you?”
“You’re a cop,” she said in a low voice. “You’ll want to take me in. Turn me over to some government agency for testing.”
He gave her a fierce frown. “That’s not true. The only way I’d take you in is if you’ve broken the law. So far, all I know is that you were being hunted by poachers. That makes you the victim, not a perpetrator. Is there something you want to tell me?”
His eyes were expectant, piercing, like he could peel back her skin and see inside. It made her uneasy.
“They took me,” she said simply. Her breath caught and hovered as she relived the terror of that day.
“Took you? How?”
She trembled, and his hand slid from her chin to her shoulder. Warm, comforting. Without thinking, she leaned further into his touch, wanting to be closer but afraid all at the same time.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he said soothingly.
Sincerity reflected in his warm brown eyes. The hard lines of his face contrasted the softness in his gaze. He was a man accustomed to harshness, of doing what it took to get the job done. While he was doing his best to put her at ease, she could well imagine how quickly he could turn, how unforgiving he could be with a criminal.
His other hand rasped over his short hair in a gesture of frustration. He was losing patience with her. Again, she felt the tingle of awareness as the cheetah rose and sought to take over. She shrank away from his touch, hoping to better control the urge to shift. She had been the cheetah for so long that her human form felt alien.
Duncan swore and snatched his hands away from her. He placed them on the edge of the couch and stared directly at her.
“Aliyah, I won’t harm you. In your place I’d be scared, too. I wouldn’t trust anyone. You’ve been through hell. I want to help you. What can I do to make you believe that?”
The simple sincerity in his voice broke through the prickle of fear skirting down her spine. She took a deep breath and sagged. She hurt. She glanced down at her wound, frustrated to see that it was not yet completely healed. Staying in her cheetah form for so long had been physically demanding.
“It hurts,” she said. “I’m unused to it. I don’t normally take this long to heal. I’m not sure what to do to help it.”
“Is there nothing you can take that will help? Do pain relievers not affect you?” he asked in a concerned voice.
She shrugged. “I do not know. I’ve never had to use them. We heal naturally and at a much faster rate than normal humans.” She shivered again as another chill took over.
Duncan moved forward, his hands gently pushing her more upright. She glanced at him in confusion as he settled on the couch beside her. When he wrapped his arms around her, she panicked, not because she feared him, but because raw awareness gripped her as his warmth bled into her body.
“You’re cold,” he said.
He tucked the blanket carefully around her, making sure he didn’t jostle her leg.
She relaxed against his body and let her head fall back against his chest. Weariness pulled at her. Her body ached.
Remembering she was supposed to be providing him answers, she opened her mouth to speak again. She was momentarily sidetracked as his arms tightened around her chest and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
It felt good. So good. And she told him so.
His hands paused in their movement for a mome
nt, and she could feel the slight catch in his breath. Could he feel it too? This pull between them?
“What were you going to say?” he murmured.
She searched her cloudy brain for what exactly she’d intended to tell him but was coming up blank.
“You said they took you. Who took you? And how?”
She shrank further into his arms, and he started sliding his hands up and down again in a soothing motion.
She searched her mind for what she could safely tell him without divulging too much.
“When I was younger, my parents moved us to Africa. As a child, I spent more time in my animal form than the other young of my kind. My parents feared I would be discovered. As I grew older, it became easier to control my shifts, and so we moved back to our home in Alaska.
“I had returned to Africa for a visit. It had been too long since I ran with the other cheetahs.”
She closed her eyes as she conjured the memories of racing across the savannah, the wind in her face, the dry, parched earth pounding underneath her paws. There, she’d been free. Truly free. And ironically enough, it was where her freedom had ended.
“I was netted and then sedated by the poachers. They shipped me back to the U. S., and I was quartered with other exotic animals. For weeks I was kept in a cage, and then, finally, they turned me out to hunt.”
A light shudder worked its way over her shoulders, and Duncan’s hands tensed against her skin.
“So that’s their set-up? They import animals to hunt here in the States?”
She nodded. “They charge exorbitant fees for trophy hunts. Instead of taking the hunter to Africa, they bring Africa to the hunter.”
Duncan stiffened in anger. She could feel the rage radiating from his body.
“Son of a bitch,” he swore. “God only knows how long they’ve been pulling this shit in my mountains. I fucking hate poachers.”
Then as if fearing he’d frightened her, he relaxed his grip and turned her chin so she could see him in her periphery.
“I’m sorry.”
She offered a faint smile. “They make me angry as well. What they do is not honorable.”
“They could have killed you,” he said hoarsely. “They tried to kill you.”
“You saved me.” She shifted in his arms so she could see him better. Then she reached up to touch his cheek with her hand. “Thank you.”
Their gazes connected and locked.
“I don’t understand what you are,” he said. “If I hadn’t seen it, I’d never believe it in a thousand years. And yet, you are a cheetah. How is that possible?”
She dropped her gaze then turned away once more, settling her back against his chest.
“I don’t know the answers to your questions. I only know what I am. How is not so important is it?”
He sighed in frustration, and she wilted just a little more. She was so tired, she physically ached. She needed rest. It would help in the healing.
“I need to sleep,” she said. “I’ve not slept a full night since I was taken by the hunters.” And for one night, she wanted to feel safe. Indulge in the soft comfort of a bed instead of a cold cage.
“You can have my bed,” he said as he eased from behind her.
She was too tired to argue, and she wanted that bed badly enough that she wouldn’t offer up any false protests about putting him out.
When she tried to get up herself, Duncan stopped her with a firm hand. Then he reached down and lifted her from the couch. She clung to his neck as he walked out of the living room and into a large bedroom.
He settled her down on his bed, and she sighed in sheer bliss when her head hit the pillow. She rolled to her side and pulled at the hem of the T-shirt. Not giving any thought to the fact he stood but a foot away, she lifted the T-shirt over her head and tossed it away.
The material irritated her skin. Having gone so long with no clothing, the slightest touch set her nerve endings afire. Her eyes were already closing when he tried to pull the covers over her body.
She put her hand down. “No. Don’t. I can’t bear it.”
“You’ll freeze,” he said.
“The material scrapes at my skin,” she murmured.
He was silent for a moment, and then she heard him walk away. A few seconds later, he returned, and she felt the soft brush of fur over her body.
She clutched at it, holding it close.
“It’s a bear skin,” he said a little uncomfortably.
“Papa,” she murmured as she snuggled deeper into the fur.
Duncan said something else, but she was sliding under.
CHAPTER 5
Duncan paced back and forth in front of the fireplace, his mind ablaze with the day’s drama. A cheetah. She was a fucking cheetah. As mind blowing events went, this one topped the list.
Apart from the fact that he had a beautiful, naked cheetah-woman camped out in his bed, he also had to deal with the fact that poachers were turning out animals to hunt in his mountains.
And to think he’d lamented the fact that nothing exciting ever happened in Elk Ridge.
His first priority… Hell, what was his first priority? He had an injured cheep …woman. What was he supposed to do with her? And he had poachers to catch and make damn sure their days of importing exotic animals were over.
He spun around, took two steps toward the bedroom then stopped and walked back to the fireplace again. The bedroom was out. She was in his bed. Naked. There was only so much temptation a red-blooded man could take, and a voluptuous golden-eyed goddess laid out like a Christmas present might well be construed a temptation.
He flexed his fingers, curling them until the skin stretched and whitened across his knuckles.
A sound from the bedroom had him yanking his head around.
He strode out of the living room and rounded the corner into his room. He caught the door frame with his hand as he came to a halt.
His breath stuck in his throat, swelled and rebounded into his chest.
The fur he had covered Aliyah with was bunched around her feet. She lay on her hip, but her upper body was twisted so that her back was pressed to the bed. Her left arm was thrown wide to the side, and her right hand was curled into a fist at her shoulder.
She was…quite beautiful, even in her state of distress. Apart from the inflamed-looking wound on her leg, her skin was unmarred by a single blemish. Slender legs led up to rounded hips, a tiny waist, and two spectacularly formed breasts.
Jesus, they were perfect. She was perfect.
Gently rounded nipples, a soft peach color, so soft looking that he caught himself swallowing as he imagined tasting them.
He closed his eyes. He couldn’t go there. He was turning to leave when she moaned again. As he looked back over at her, he could see a sheen of sweat glistening on her forehead. Her head twisted side to side, and then her eyes blinked open.
They glittered gold, and the pupils elongated and shrank to a vertical sliver. Her muscles twitched and jumped, and he realized she was fighting against her instinct to shift.
Unsure of whether he should stay or whether he should get the hell out of the bedroom and lock the door had him standing there not knowing whether to shit or go blind.
Her distress decided things for him.
He hurried to the bed and knelt over her. “Aliyah,” he whispered urgently. “Aliyah, wake up, honey.” He reached down to touch her damp face. Tenderly, he pushed a tendril of golden hair behind her ear, and she nuzzled her cheek into his palm.
Her eyelids fluttered, and he breathed in relief when he saw her eyes were back to normal.
“Duncan?”
“I’m here,” he said. Then he looked down and realized his hand still rested against her cheek. He started to pull it away, but she caught his fingers in his hand.
“No, don’t go,” she said. “Please.”
To his utter astonishment, she reached over and wrapped her arms around his waist then proceeded to snuggle into his body as ti
ghtly as she could go. Oh hell.
He relaxed on the bed to alleviate the awkwardness of the position, which sent her seeking further into his arms.
“It’s been so long,” she whispered.
“Since what?” he asked as he smoothed her hair with his hand.
“Since I felt another’s touch on my skin.” She rubbed her cheek over his chest and then impatiently shoved at his shirt, raising it up so she could press her face to his bare skin.
She ran her hands up his ribcage and over his chest as if she couldn’t get enough. Her warm lips glanced over the hollow, and he groaned as his cock, which had jumped to attention the moment she touched him, swelled painfully in his jeans.
“Aliyah. Aliyah,” he said louder when she ignored him. “Honey, you have to stop.” He tried to pry her away, but he didn’t want to hurt her. He grasped her wrists and pulled just as her lips met the column of his neck. “God.” It came out more as a groan than an actual word.
“Touch me.”
“Aliyah …we can’t…don’t do that…ah damn it.”
Her lips whispered close to his ear, and she nibbled delicately at the lobe.
“Touch me,” she whispered again. “Please.” She captured her hands in his and raised them to her breasts.
He might have resisted even that, though the weight of the soft mounds resting against his palms made his fingers itch to rub over her nipples, but when she reached down and slid her hand between his legs to cup the discernible bulge there, he was lost.
“Slow down, sweetheart,” he said. “I don’t want to hurt you. We have to take it easy. Your wound isn’t healed.”
He groaned even as he said it. Surely this qualified him for sainthood. He had his arms full of a curvaceous hellcat intent of rubbing herself over every inch of his body and he was saying shit like let’s slow down.