forget the sinister capabilities of the
blade. He hurriedly crossed the room and
set it upon the fireplace mantle as if it
burned his hand.
His heart felt lighter the instant the
sword was out of her reach. Why did the
last Hunter have to be such a beguiling
creature? Wouldn’t it make things easier if
he just killed her in her sleep? No one
would blame him for avenging his brother.
But he had been one of the few who had
tried to stop the slaying of Maralee’s
family fifteen years before. He wouldn’t
sink to using such methods to solve their
differences now. Instead of killing her,
he’d rather change the way she thought
about his people. To see them as they
were when they were not under the
influence of the full moon. They could find
peace. He had to believe that, because the
thought of ending her life made him
nauseous.
Nash banked the fire in the grate and
then carefully lifted her into his arms. He
did not want her to awaken and venture
out into the village without him. While he
might not want her dead, he was sure
others of his pack would feel differently.
Maralee stirred, but did not awaken. He
carried her to his bed, a pile of thick furs
on the floor of his room, and laid her
down. He removed his sweater, and
climbed into the pallet with her. He would
know if she stirred or tried to reclaim her
sword while they slept in close quarters.
He was a very light sleeper. He covered
them both with a quilt made of rabbit fur,
and quickly drifted to sleep.
CHAPTER 4
Maralee rolled over, still mostly
asleep, and curled up against the warm
body beside her. Her fingers splayed to
burrow into a thick, warm pelt. Her hand
rose and fell steadily with the intake and
outflow of the sleeping animal’s breath.
So warm and soft. She snuggled closer. It
took a moment for the hazy veil of sleep to
lift.
What?
Her heart slammed into her ribcage.
Her eyes flew open, but the room she
found herself in was totally devoid of
window and light. The only indication she
hadn’t succumbed to blindness was the
narrow band of light at the bottom of the
door at her feet. Her frightened gasp woke
Nash, and his hand reached for hers in the
darkness.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said groggily. “I
thought we could both use some sleep.”
Maralee began to search the pallet
beside her for a large, fur-covered animal.
Her hands found the smooth, warm skin of
Nash’s chest, but no fur.
“There is something in here with us,”
she said. Her heart drummed erratically.
Irrational terror gripped her. “An animal.
It’s huge. Has…has… fur.”
“Calm down,” Nash said. “You’re
obviously mistaken. I’m exhausted. Lie
down awhile longer.”
He tugged her down beside him and
cradled her against his side. She struggled
out of his grasp and sat up again.
“I am not mistaken. I felt it with my
own hands.”
He took her hand and rubbed it over
the furry surface of the quilt covering
them. “Did it feel like this?”
She stroked the rabbit-fur quilt and
shook her head.
“No, not as soft as this. Courser fur,
like a dog.” Or a wolf, she added silently.
She knew that was too preposterous to put
to words.
He chuckled. “You must have been
dreaming.”
“I wasn’t.”
“Then where is this large, furry animal
now?”
She glanced around the dark room, but
couldn’t see anything. “Maybe it’s hiding
or something,” she said, starting to feel
foolish now. It probably had been the quilt
she’d felt, and her overactive imagination
had turned it into something more
frightening. She couldn’t blame it on
nightmares because she hadn’t had one
while she’d been napping. She couldn’t
remember the last time she’d slept without
dreaming about the Wolves.
Nash climbed from the pallet and
crawled to the door. “I like you better
asleep,” he told her, before opening the
door to let light into the room.
The room was very small. The large
pallet of furs, which served as the bed, ran
practically from wall-to-wall. The ceiling
was low and there were no windows at
all. It reminded Maralee of a cave.
“Is this your room?” she asked. Its
complete lack of ornamentation or
furniture surprised her, although the pallet
was far more comfortable than any bed
she’d slept in.
“Is it not up to your usual standards?”
She couldn’t tell if he was annoyed by
her question. “I was just asking.”
He grinned at her crookedly making
her pulse accelerate on cue. She
swallowed hard and lowered her gaze.
“I suspect you haven’t been in the bed
of very many men,” he said.
She glanced up, startled by the
realization that she was in his bed. How
had this transpired? She distinctly
remembered falling asleep on his couch
not in his bed.
He continued, “I say that, because
looking the way you do right now, any
man in his right mind wouldn’t let you out
of it again.”
He chuckled when she gasped and
ducked her head. She wondered why his
comment seemed flattering rather than
insulting. Surely, such an outlandish
statement deserved a harsh reprimand.
Words failed her, however, and she
merely sat trembling beneath the heavy
weight of his stare. She hadn’t had time to
pursue relationships in the past. Not that
she was considering it now.
A sharp knock at the front door broke
the tension between them and Nash ducked
his head to leave the small room. “Stay
there, Maralee. I’ll be back shortly.”
He closed the little door and
oppressive darkness bathed her. With him
out of the room, she was finally able to
gather her thoughts. What was she still
doing here? Would he take her back to
Sarbough? Was he holding her prisoner or
just making it feel that way? What would
he do if she disobeyed him and left the
room? At times, he seemed so calm,
serene even, and at others, he was like a
wild animal—out of control. She wasn’t
sure if it was wise to bait him.
Maralee heard the sounds of Nash’s
deep voice and another higher pitched one
from the living area. Curious, she crawled
> from the pallet and eased the door open,
straining
her
uninvited
ears
for
conversation.
“Rella said you brought a woman here.
Someone from the village,” a woman said.
“The
Hunter
from
last
night
discovered me at Cort’s grave. I wasn’t
sure what I should do with her.” Nash’s
tone was apologetic.
“So
you
brought
her
to
our
settlement?”
the
woman
sounded
incredulous.
“I want her to see how we live. I think
if she comes to understand us better, then I
don’t know…maybe she can help us
somehow.”
“Help us? She’s a Wolf Hunter, Nash.
You’re our guardian and yet you invite
trouble
amongst
us
without
any
consideration for the safety of your
people.”
Maralee’s
brow
knotted
with
confusion. They made it sound like she
was some bloodthirsty lunatic. What
danger could she possibly pose to these
people? If anything, she might protect them
from the Wolves, which seemed to be
particularly abundant in the area. Maybe
the woman thought she would attract the
beasts to their village.
“You said you would leave this up to
me, Mother,” Nash said.
“I didn’t expect you to do something
so foolish.”
There was a long pause and then
Maralee heard footsteps cross the floor.
“Here,” Nash said. “Her sword. I took
it from her. That’s something, isn’t it?”
Maralee’s hand went to her hip. Her
father’s sword, which had remained
beside her since she’d killed her first
Wolf, was gone. That bastard had stolen
it from her. Maralee burst from the
bedroom and into the hallway, racing
forward until she stood just inside the
living area. She panted as she looked from
Nash, holding her beloved sword, to the
woman standing near the open front door.
His mother gave off an aura of strength
and
dignity
Maralee
found
rather
intimidating. The lovely, gray-haired
woman, with an inexplicably young face,
assessed Maralee with shrewd, golden
eyes, before holding her hand out towards
her son. He placed the sword in her hand
and she turned to go.
“That is my sword,” Maralee said,
getting over her initial apprehension and
rushing into the room.
Nash moved faster than any man had a
right to. Maralee collided with his body
before she could draw to a halt. He
grabbed her by the arms and looked down
at her, locking her silver-eyed gaze with
his golden one. She paused, unable to look
away, protest, or even move. She heard
the door close. The woman’s footsteps
crossed the porch and continued down the
steps.
Maralee stood there, locked in his
gaze for long, long moments, and then he
blinked. She came to her senses at once.
She jerked out of Nash’s grasp and dashed
to the front door, tearing it open and
rushing out onto the porch. There were no
signs of his mother anywhere in the forest
or amongst the cabins of the settlement. A
few of the children, who were chasing
each other amongst the trees and laughing,
stopped to gape at her.
“Where did she go?” she asked one of
them—a boy with fluffy, light brown hair
who she estimated to be around seven.
His golden eyes widened and he
whimpered before running off to hide in
the cover of the trees. The other children
scattered and Maralee watched them hide
with confusion. She hadn’t been that harsh
in her tone, had she? She didn’t spend
much time with children, but she had
never known any to fear her.
“Come inside, Maralee,” Nash said.
He stepped behind her and placed a hand
on each of her arms.
“Why are they afraid?” And why did
she have the sudden urge to cry?
“They just need some time to get used
to you,” Nash said. “Come inside. It’s
cold out here.”
Maralee allowed him to guide her into
the house. Absently, she sat on the sofa.
She was so confused. The only thing that
seemed clear to her was Nash had taken
her sword and given it to his mother.
“How could you?” she said, startling
the man who was gazing at her with
concern. “You stole my sword and then
you gave it to your mother. My sword. It
was not yours to give.”
“Maralee…” he said consolingly.
“Don’t ‘Maralee’ me! That sword is
my most prized possession. It was my
father’s dying wish that I take his sword
and use it to save precious human lives.”
“Mara—”
She stood up, angrier than she had
ever been in her life. She wasn’t going to
let him intimidate her anymore. She
jabbed him in the chest with her finger as
she shouted at him. “I don’t know who you
think you are. You can’t just threaten me,
take my things, and command me to do
what you say. What gives you the right?
Were you preordained by God or some
—”
Nash pulled her against him and
silenced her by covering her mouth with
his. One of his arms circled her waist to
draw her against him, his other hand dove
into the tangled strands of her hair to tilt
her head back so he could feast on her
mouth unrestrained.
It didn’t occur to Maralee to resist his
unwarranted kiss. Her hands were trapped
between them, resting against his bare
chest, but she didn’t push him away.
Instead, she clung to his skin with curled
fingertips. She was a slave to the
sensations that started where their lips met
and throbbed throughout her entire body.
He lifted his head and she made a sound
of protest, her eyes opening long enough to
catch sight of his crooked grin before he
kissed her again.
Her breath came out in a gasp when
his teeth nipped her lower lip. His tongue
soothed the tender flesh and she
shuddered, leaning against him for
support. She’d never been kissed like this.
The few kisses she’d experienced in her
past had been awkward. Chaste even.
This? This was… delicious. Made her
/> throb between her legs in a most
distracting fashion. Her lips parted as she
let out a lingering moan and his tongue
brushed hers.
There was a quiet knock on the front
door. “Uncle Nash,” came Carsha’s timid
voice from outside.
Nash tore his mouth away from
Maralee’s, and locked her in a solid
embrace. He rubbed his lips against her
temple, emitting a repetitive low growling
sound that made the tips of her breasts
tighten unexpectedly.
“Uncle Nash,” Carsha persisted. “You
promised.”
“I did,” he breathed. He drew away
from Maralee, who sought a seat on the
sofa for fear her wobbly knees would not
support her body weight.
Nash opened the door and Carsha
smiled up at him with a devotion only
attainable by the very young. “Time to
play, Uncle Nash.”
He smiled down at her, his affection
obvious. “Let me get my boots and a
sweater.”
Carsha’s looked behind him to
Maralee, who was sitting on the sofa
trying to gather her wits. The child’s smile
faltered. “Oh, she’s still here.”
“We can still have fun,” Nash
promised. “Come in. I’ll just be a minute.”
Carsha edged into the house and Nash
closed the door before turning to go to his
room. He caught Maralee’s eye as he
passed her and she noticed his attention
drawn to her mouth. His tongue slid from
between his lips to caress the corner of
his mouth. Her heart thudded. Could their
kiss have affected him as much as it
affected her? It had been her first kiss real
ever. That impulsive good-bye kiss she’d
planted on the stable boy, William, when
she’d left home at sixteen did not compare
to the sensual things Nash had done to her
mouth. She couldn’t imagine anything
being more passionate or pleasurable. Not
only were her lips tingling, but her entire
body was throbbing. She was strangely
aware of the secret places of her body.
Once Nash left the room, her attention
shifted to Carsha, who was assessing her.
“I’m not afraid of you,” the small girl
said, though her golden eyes were as wide
as saucers.
Maralee smiled reassuringly. “I’m
glad. There’s no reason for you to fear
me.”
“Sword.”
“I don’t have it right now.” Maralee
pointed to her empty belt. Your uncle took
it, she thought and her ire rose again. Had
he kissed her as a diversion? Jerk! She
would get her sword back before she left
Defying Destiny Page 5