Scratch

by Mel Teshco

  His jaw locked tight. “Jesus, Alexia…” His head fell back, throat convulsing and his seed jetting deep inside her.

  Moments later his eyes caught and held hers, his stare drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. Warmth flushed her face, adding to the slippery sheen of sweat between her breasts, her thighs.

  Oh, wow. Being with him hadn’t been like any one-night stand she’d ever had before. She’d shared more than intimacy with Blake—had laid out more than her body. His stare flashed triumph, a smile curling his lips. “You belong to me now.”

  Chapter Three

  Her mouth dropped open, her eyes widening even as the warm glow quickly faded and suspicions arose. For a moment she’d let herself believe they were meant to be together too, but even with their lovemaking they were still little more than strangers sharing a bed.

  A lump constricted her throat. She knew his identity now. Was he hoping to control her and keep her from telling the world the truth? Hurt squeezed her chest. Yes, she wanted her father’s reputation back, but not at Blake and his shifter friends’ freedom.

  She pulled back from him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Regrets already?”

  Oh, god. An argument already?

  “No. But my will is my own.”

  He nodded. “As it should be.” His eyes narrowed, his lips pressing together. “You think I want to keep you quiet and under my thumb?”

  She flushed. “It did enter my mind.”

  He rolled away from her, stood and stepped back into his jeans with jerky movements. “Then it’s a good thing you are on the pill and cannot fall pregnant.”

  “Oh?”

  His nostrils flared as he looked down at her. “You and my child would be mine. My Pride.”

  She lifted her chin, though a part of her thrilled at the idea. “And if I wanted otherwise?”

  “I would do everything needed for you to change your mind.”

  She let out a little sigh. “It’s all immaterial, isn’t it? I’m not pregnant and don’t plan to be anytime soon.”

  She ignored an odd pang, and couldn’t help but ask, “If I hadn’t been on the pill and had fallen pregnant, what would have happened? Would the baby be a…shifter?”

  He stared at her, as though wishing he could read her thoughts. “Few mortals ever fall pregnant. Even fewer carry to full term. But if you did somehow prove all the stats wrong…the genetics of any shape-shifter are generally dominant. In all likelihood our baby would have my abilities.”

  She closed her eyes with relief knowing she wouldn’t conceive, even as a small, selfish part of her wished for the impossible. Odd, considering becoming a mother had never been on her wish list. “If you’re worried about the very minute chance of me falling pregnant anyway, I could take the Ducati and go to the nearest pharmacy. There is a morning after pill I can—”

  “No.”

  Her eyes shot open. His expression was fierce, primal. Possessive. He crouched, and smoothed a hand down her belly, his outspread fingers warm on her skin. “You and I…we share something special. You know it too. I felt it—you felt it—the moment you stepped through my opened door.”

  “Well…I was actually dragged inside.”

  He smiled, then expelled a rough breath. “In all honestly, I felt something powerful for you even before we’d met.”

  Her heart fluttered as if a caged bird. She frowned at the sensation, aware she was riding a rollercoaster she might never get off. “I don’t understand?”

  “I’d been closely following your father even before his discovery of the bones. I’ve read anything the media printed about him. I guess it was inevitable that I’d eventually see a picture of you in the paper with your father.” He smiled. “I was drawn to you almost as if I knew you would become my mate.”

  Her hands squeezed into fists as something primal surged through her blood. Suddenly she did wonder what it’d be like to be his mate, in every way that counted. She shook her head, clearing it of all foolishness. “That’s insane.”

  He cocked a brow. “Beast intuition is rarely wrong.” He let out a slow breath. “But though my every instinct urged me to pursue you, I didn’t. Not when your father was so close to the truth. And then when he died…let’s just say I was waiting a respectful amount of time before I came for you.”

  He gave every impression she wouldn’t have refused his walking into her life, his claiming her. Hell, perhaps he was right. She blinked. “So my showing up on your doorstep really was a complete shock?”

  “You could say that. Except I choose now to think of it as providence. The winds of fate had interceded and blown you my way.”

  He offered her a hand and pulled her up. They stilled, their gazes locking. She could see he wanted to say more but they were both aware it was now past time they left this place.

  She shivered a little. “I know I’ve said it already, but all I ever wanted was to find answers to prove my father wasn’t a crackpot.”

  “You don’t have to prove anything, Alexia. Your father was a visionary—and he did have believers. Just, not in quite the way he could ever have imagined.”

  Her eyes sharpened, searching his face, her mind spinning. “Those believers, they’re the ones who came after us, aren’t they?”

  He grimaced. “I don’t know any of them personally, but I wouldn’t be surprised.”

  “But…why would they want us dead?”

  He squeezed her hand. “I’m not certain, but I believe the majority of them think shape-shifters will become the dominant species, a supreme race at the top of the food chain.”

  “Even though there are only five shifters out there?”

  He chuckled, except there was no humor in the sound that sent skitters of pleasure across her skin. “That’s just it. They have no idea we’re on the knife-edge of extinction. Your father’s notes gave nothing away, other than the fact he found big-cat, shape-shifter bones. As far as I’m aware, he told no one but you about the journal.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m the only one that knows.” She blew out a breath. “Dad made a huge discovery, which should have been the making of his career, a mark in history. Instead, his caution and respect made him a mockery.”

  “And yet, large black cats have been sighted in dozens of places across Australia, a handful of people even producing film footage.”

  She nodded. “Maybe everyone—especially the believers—fear the unknown,” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “Possibly.”

  “So what are we going to do about it?”

  “We?” He chuckled again, but there was no humor to the sound, only vague hints of desolation. “If I fight, I kill. And what’s left of my kind will be exposed and either hunted down or locked away and studied.” His lip curled. “We’d choose death.”

  A couple of the mares whickered nervously in the yard just outside. The stallion squealed a warning and pawed the ground.

  In wordless consent, Alexia quickly dressed. She pushed against the wall and sidled toward the window, ensuring she wasn’t a stark silhouette in the pane as she scanned the countryside. “Shit.” Two men were wheeling the Ducati out from behind the fig tree.

  She dropped onto her hands and knees and crawled over to where Blake peered over the edge of the loft. “They’ve found the Ducati,” she whispered starkly.

  He nodded, composed as he murmured, “Three men are taking up position around the farmhouse.”

  Better and better.

  “How did they find us?”

  He shook his head. “At a guess, they put a tracker on your bike. I should have searched it when we stopped.”

  She touched his arm. “You could hardly walk, let alone search for a tracker. You had other things to think about.”

  Like staying alive.

  If anyone was to blame, it was her.

  His fingers covered hers and she breathed slow and deep, aware her heart was racing out-of-control, right along with a t
errible knot in her belly that twisted tight at the knowledge these men wanted them dead.

  It was all her fault. If she’d never followed the lead her father had kept secret from everyone but her, Blake might never have been found, never have been put in this position.

  And I’d never have made love to the most desirable man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  The farmhouse door crashed inward. A window shattered a second later as the men forced entry.

  Blake put a hand beneath her chin. “In minutes those men will come searching the barn. But you need to stay calm and trust in me. Okay?”

  She nodded. Against all rationalization, she did trust him.

  “Good.” He brushed a thumb across her jaw. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “No buts. I’ll help you onto the stallion. Though I can’t communicate with him directly, he’ll sense what I want him to do. You just have to hang on.”

  Oh shit oh shit oh shit!

  There was no more time for questions. She all but slid down the ladder after Blake, before they moved through the mass of milling horseflesh until they came to the stallion. Though the big horse tossed his head, he stood motionless as Blake bent at the stallion’s foreleg and clasped his hands together in the shape of a stirrup.

  Alexia slid a foot into his hands and swung a leg over the giant bay just as movement caught in her peripheral vision.

  One of the men strode out of the house and onto the veranda, scanning the yard with its restless horses. She ducked, staying low on the stallion, her arms wrapped around his warm neck.

  In the cover of the mares surrounding him, Blake methodically undressed. He looked up at her. “When I open the gate, you ride like hell,” he said in a low-pitched undertone. “Don’t look back. Don’t wait. I won’t be far behind.”

  She nodded, gripping the stallion’s long black mane and clamping her thighs to his rust-colored coat.

  “The house is clear.” A man’s aggrieved voice drifted across the breeze. “Go and check the barn.”

  Crouched low, Blake swung open the gate. It squealed on dry hinges like a cat that had its tail pulled.

  “Heeah!” Alexia yelled, stampeding the mares out of the gate. Now was no longer the time for quiet.

  All three men raced toward the barn, their guns drawn. Alexia caught a glimpse of Blake, already fully shifted in his panther form, and running in the opposite direction. Drawing the three men away from her like bait.

  Oh, dear lord, no!

  Her belly churning, it was all she could do just to hang on, crouched low on the stallion’s back, as he galloped through the herd, nipping lagging mares to push them faster.

  At the sound of her Ducati, she risked a quick look behind. Stupid! Last night she hadn’t been thinking straight. And though she could forgive herself for not having the foresight to check for a tracker, she should never have left the key in the ignition, no matter how distracted she’d been by Blake’s injuries.

  Two of the goons roared through the horses on her bike, scattering all the mares in their path. She leaned forward, encouraging the stallion faster still, his stride lengthening until he passed the mares in front, his breath heaving with the effort, his hide already drenched with sweat.

  A line of gum trees came into sight ahead. She bit back a sob. They weren’t going to make it! Though the ground wasn’t smooth asphalt, it was relatively flat and well maintained, giving the road bike all the advantage.

  The Ducati roared alongside. The man riding pillion raised his wavering rifle.

  Bastards. What had she ever done to them to deserve this?

  Whatever. She wasn’t about to roll over without a fight. She wasn’t her father.

  Using her legs to steer the stallion, she nudged closer to the bike. Then bending her knees until her feet pressed onto the stallion’s back, she twisted sideward and launched clear.

  She threw herself at the men in a double body tackle that had them grunting in shocked disbelief. The Ducati toppled onto its side and the rifle flipped into the air. Tucking her head into her chin, she curled into a loose ball and struck the ground hard, jarring her shoulder against a rock before bouncing over and over. She lay still, winded and unable to move but conscious of everything around her.

  The mares’ hoofbeats drummed past, dust choking her lungs. The sun beat down, hot on her face. A groan sounded somewhere a few yards to her right.

  She gritted her teeth and rolled over. One man lay unmoving, out cold. The other was conscious and hurting by the sound of his labored breathing. Her own shoulder throbbed. Blood drizzled wet and thick as sludge down her brow.

  Please let Blake be safe.

  She sensed him long before she heard the pad of his huge paws slow into a walk. His breath was hot on her face as his whiskered head gently nudged her nearest cheek, a long, low growl rumbling deep from his chest.

  “Blake,” she managed, smiling a little even as she winced and managed, “I’ve always wanted a big…cat of my…very own.”

  In the long seconds it took him to shift back into human, she forced herself into a sitting position.

  “Are you all right?” He crouched beside her, unashamedly naked, his stare sweeping her from top to bottom.

  “I’ve been better.”

  A corner of his lip curled up into a half-smile at her dry sarcasm. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

  “You could say that.”

  He bent then, his mouth covering hers in a quick, hard kiss that stamped his possession. When he pulled back, his eyes searched hers as if he could read all her thoughts, all her emotions. Apparently satisfied, he said, “Just give me a minute.”

  “I won’t be going anywhere,” she said drily. Only, all irony was forgotten when she watched him stride toward the motorcycle in his loose, easy gait. She drank in the flex and shift of his smooth ass cheeks, the extension of muscles at the back of his long hard thighs and calves.

  He bent and lifted the Ducati back onto its wheels, giving her a splendid display of his maleness.

  Oh dear lord, give me strength!

  She swallowed past her too-dry throat, all pain temporarily forgotten.

  He straightened with a crooked grin and a devilish glint in his stare.

  The bastard. He knew!

  He wheeled her battered Ducati toward her, expelling a whistle of chagrin at the damage. A side fairing and mirror had torn free, the windshield badly cracked, the frame scratched and seat torn.

  He stopped beside her. “The clutch and brake levers look fine, seems to be just cosmetic damage. The engine should still run without a problem.”

  She forced her stare on the bike and not his towering Michelangelo nudity. “Yeah, insurance will just love me.” She grimaced, making a move to get up, but failing.

  He flicked the Ducati’s stand down. “Here, let me help.” When he stepped in front of her, his hands out and his legs apart with his cock stirring into abundant life, she couldn’t even swallow. It seemed almost irreverent, the lust that stirred hot in her blood when every part of her felt bruised and sore.

  She placed her hands in his. “Thank you.”

  Blake pulled her upright. “I saw what you did. Jumping from the stallion and tackling those men. Very brave.”

  Wow. Evidently cat vision really was much sharper than human sight.

  She disengaged her hands from his. “Or foolhardy. Take your pick.”

  His eyes flared with overprotectiveness and another emotion she didn’t care right then to define. “Since they wouldn’t have hesitated to take the shot, most definitely brave,” he rasped.

  She shivered, the chill that skittered up and down her spine more from his stark tone of helpless rage and less her near stroke with death. She managed a smile, averting her eyes yet again when they strayed down, past the light ripple of his abs and strip of hair that arrowed toward his thickening cock.

  She cleared her throat and waved a hand at the two men still lying on t
he ground. “These two aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. But what about the three who went after you?”

  “Taken care of.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes, it was a cold and glacial smirk that set off another round of shivers, this time in a whirlpool through her belly. Blake had seen and done many bad things in his long life. But why did that make her feel as though he could more than take care of her, if she let him?

  “What do you mean?” she managed.

  “The fools seemed to have forgotten that cats can climb trees, and attack from a great height.”

  “You killed them?” she breathed.

  “There wasn’t time for that, and even if there had been, shifter law deeply opposes the murder of humans.” He examined her again, a slow perusal that apparently double-checked she really was okay. “Let’s just say I enjoyed slowing the humans down for a bit.”

  Movement caught her peripheral vision. The conscious man was dragging himself along the ground, his rifle just a few yards away.

  In three strides Blake was over him, pressing a foot onto his arm. “I could kill you now,” he said softly, “but I choose not to.” His lip curled. “Yet you try to kill a woman and call yourself civilized—human.”

  The younger man groaned, his rifle glinting in the setting sun, so close yet so far away. “So you’re letting me go? I’m…I’m free?”

  “No. I’m going to tear you limb from limb.”

  At the other man’s sharply indrawn breath, Blake released his arm with a disbelieving shake of his head. Retrieving the rifle, he threw it away. Alexia watched as it arced gracefully through the air and landed with a far off, dull thud.

  Blake turned back to the inert man. “Get undressed. I want your jeans, your shirt,” smirking, he finished, “you get to keep your underwear.”