Dark and Deadly: Eight Bad Boys of Paranormal Romance (102 page)

The cabin didn’t have a wired phone and her cell kept searching but couldn’t find a signal. Whistler Valley was a forty-five-minute drive in clear weather. She’d never make it in the storm that buffeted the SUV and dumped snow and ice on top of them. The short drive to the cabin had been harrowing.

She eyed Alex worriedly. She didn’t know how much of the blood covering him was his or if he had more serious injuries beneath the skin.

Frustrated, she surveyed her rustic surroundings. The cabin didn’t try to be more than its name. It had a kitchen, a sitting room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Amy had furnished it and Lilly hadn’t had the heart to change anything about it after she’d died.

Behind her was the front room, dominated by an overstuffed couch and chair with a battered coffee table between them. A comfortable layer of chaos covered everything. Amy’s laptop, tablet, magazines, and books cluttered the table. A blanket was wadded up at the foot of the couch, Amy’s slippers beneath it, just where she’d left them.

The fireplace’s massive stone surround stretched wall-to-wall with various built-in nooks of different sizes. Amy had used the space for books and snapshots of her dogs. Before her death, she’d added a framed picture of herself with her long-lost sister, Lilly. It held the place of honor on the mantel and it broke Lilly’s heart every time she saw it. They’d had so little time together.

Lilly sighed and looked back at the wounded man. He sat on the bench, head lolled back against the wall and eyes closed. She needed to move him to the couch, where he could lie down and she could attempt to patch him up.

“Alex,” she said, but his eyes didn’t open. “Come on, Alex. Stand up. Let’s get you to the couch and then you can rest.”

His eyes opened, but they were unfocused. Knowing she might not get more than that out of him, she sat beside him, slung his arm over her shoulder, and stood, forcing him up with her. He weighed a ton, and she’d never have succeeded if he hadn’t roused enough to help. They danced an awkward tango across the floor, listing from side to side. The dogs helped, which meant they made every effort to trip them both. By the time they reached the couch, she could do little more than maneuver and push. He collapsed in a heap on the big, soft cushions.

“You still with me?” she asked as she swung his legs up.

She didn’t expect an answer, but he muttered, “Not dead, if that’s what you mean.”

Pretty much exactly what she’d meant. She hurried back to the front door and locked it, checking the deadbolt twice. Alex gave a dry laugh.

“That won’t stop anything.”

“Shut up,” she said.

In seconds, she had a fire going and some water boiling. She hung her coat on the hook next to Alex’s and shoved her boots under the bench beside his. It made her pause, the sight of the pairs. Like they belonged together. She tried to ignore the longing that sparked from nowhere. She didn’t know this man and he certainly wasn’t the mate to her North Face boots. According to him, he wasn’t even human. With a scowl, she pulled Amy’s impressive first aid kit out of the closet and set it on the table in front of him.

Blood soaked his flannel shirt and carefully, she stripped him of it. He helped with silent and grim determination, never looking away from her face as she revealed a broad, muscled chest, strong arms, and flat abdomen. Necessary or not, she felt awkward with her fingers at his fly, more so when he lifted his hips so she could pull off his pants to give her access to the wound on this thigh. It was impossible not to notice the ripple of muscle, the strip of flesh between his belly button and the elastic of his briefs. A dark arrow of silky hair drew her eyes downward.

He might not be human…he might not even consider himself a man…but he sure as hell looked like one to Lilly.

She glanced at his face. His eyes were shut, his breathing deep.

A large, angry bite stood out on his ribs. Gently, she cleaned the wound with hot water and a soft cloth before putting disinfectant and a bandage over it. Blood had splattered his abdomen, and with perhaps a little more attention to detail than needed, she cleaned that, too, smoothing the supple skin with her fingertips.

She glanced up again and found him watching her. Her hand rested against his belly, where it had no business being. Blushing so hard it hurt, she snatched it away.

“You said you weren’t a man,” she exclaimed and then wanted to cover her head with a blanket and die.

“Never said I wasn’t male,” he answered darkly and closed his eyes again. “Give me a couple of hours and I’ll prove it.”

Lilly stared at him, mouth open, a whole host of conflict in her chest. She cleared her throat. “That won’t be necessary,” she said primly.

He gave a soft, rumbling laugh that made him groan.

After that, Lilly kept her hands busy in more appropriate ways.

She worked methodically, cleaning all his wounds before she bandaged them. She was no doctor, but she’d learned fundamental first aid around the same time she’d learned to shoot—after her adopted parents had been murdered in their home when she was seventeen.

His arm was the worst of the wounds and probably the source of all the blood. Bites and bruises covered it, and she worried that he needed stitches, but that was more than she could do. She used butterfly bandages instead and wrapped it twice with gauze.

She was exhausted by the time she finished. Standing, she stretched the tight muscles in her neck and back before moving to the window. Snow dropped from the sky in a thick blanket that showed no signs of easing. Even if it stopped during the night, they would be stranded for days.

At least their tracks would be covered. Anyone who tried to find them would be left without a trail to follow.

Relieved, she took a shower, washing away the stench of fear and the splatter of blood. Clean and too tired to do anything else, Lilly added wood to the fire, curled up in the chair next to the couch where Alex lay, and closed her eyes. She was asleep in minutes.

Alex saw Lilly the moment he opened his eyes. She slept on an overstuffed chair beside him, her head on one arm, her feet hanging over the other. She managed to look comfortable, though he couldn’t figure it out. Like a kitten, curled into an impossibly small space.

The fire had burned low but embers still glowed in the ash. The room was chilly, but the blanket she’d put over him, warm. The twin to it covered Lilly. From the beds on the floor, four dogs watched him. A fluffy head popped up from the gap behind Lilly’s bent knees. Harley, she’d called that one.

He reached out and touched Lilly’s hair. It looked like burnished gold and felt like silk. Her chinks were pink, her lashes lace against them. He wanted to bury his face in the crook between her shoulder and neck, and breathe in the scent he’d only managed to catch in passing so far. He hadn’t come to dally with humans, but with this one….forbidden or not, he definitely wanted to dally.

He closed his eyes, remembering the soft brush of her fingers against his skin. Her face had been flushed as she touched him, her eyes jewel-bright. Her thoughts had laced the air between them, rousing him from semi-consciousness with the bite of longing.

He should be glad he hadn’t had the strength to answer it.

Carefully, he sat up. She’d bandaged the bites on his arms and legs and the one on his ribs. Blood had soaked through the gauze, but as far as he could see, it was dry now. Even his arm. That one hurt the worst.

The room had a strange cast to it, a sickly yellow that pulled him from the couch to make his slow and painful way to the window. The world outside was a blustering white beneath a sky so gray and frigid it blocked out the sun and distorted its glow. The storm hadn’t eased at all. If anything, night had given it power that even dawn couldn’t diminish.

The big dog—Belle—came to him with a soft whine. The others followed. Even the ridiculous small one. As if hearing the thought, Harley showed Alex his teeth.

“Going to take more than that,” Alex murmured, amused.

“They want out,” a sleepy voice said.

He glanced at Lilly, still curled in her chair and then down at himself, wearing nothing but his briefs.

“Do they need an escort?”

She sat up and looked at him, her crystalline gaze taking in every inch of his naked skin from bare feet up his belly to his chin. It lingered on his mouth before her gaze met his. Her face turned red and Alex crossed his hands in front of his hips to hide a response he couldn’t control.

“Have you heard anything out there?” she asked.

Like the hellhounds she couldn’t hear or see.

He shook his head. “This storm is bad. I don’t think even hellhounds can track in this.”

She looked relieved. He’d always heard that hellhounds were made for the fires of hell, not the bitter cold of winter, but he doubted she’d feel reassured by the information. They’d held their own yesterday and it had been damn cold then. It made him wonder what other false information he’d been given.

Lilly stretched, an uninhibited movement that made Alex’s muscles tighten. Her back arched and her toes pointed. She looked so sleepy and soft that he could almost imagine the scent of her and he yearned to know her taste.

She was staring at him now, her mouth slightly open. Her beautiful eyes, wide.

She’d heard his thoughts.

The desire to act on them nearly pulled him across the room but the toy dog at his feet yipped, reminding Alex that he was waiting. Lilly stood and crossed to the door. She wore soft, clingy pants that accented her shape and a big t-shirt with a wide neck that gaped at her shoulder and hugged her breasts.

“Porch,” she said in a stern voice. Five dogs gave her the okay and she let them out.

Alex came to stand behind her as she waited in front of the open door, her body warm against the cold blast that chased inside. He felt her stiffen and yield in the same compelling moment. She wanted to lean back; she thought she should move away. Before she could overthink it, Alex stepped closer until he was touching her, chest to shoulder blades, hips a whisper from her round behind.

The dogs had raced down the stairs to take care of their business within a foot of the porch. In seconds they were back in the house. Each one of them shook a shower of snow at him as they passed.

Lilly swung the door shut, but she didn’t move away. Neither did he.

“They listened,” she said, her voice filled with breath and nervousness. “Usually they don’t. Not like they did when Amy talked to them.”

“Oh.” Because she seemed to be waiting for a response.

It was hard to think with her so close. Her hair smelled of apples and looked too soft not to touch. He moved his fingers through it, gently letting the tips scrape her scalp before he pushed it aside, baring the curve of her shoulder where the round neck of her shirt was loose. He felt her catch her breath.

“The storm hasn’t let up at all,” she said.

In case he hadn’t noticed, hadn’t considered that he might be stranded here for days. With her.

He lowered his head and she tilted hers to the side, giving him access to the graceful slope of her neck. He let his breath caress the satiny skin, afraid if he did more, he wouldn’t be able to stop. He should back away, but he couldn’t seem to do it.

“Maybe they won’t be able to find us,” she said.

The words held a wistfulness that wrapped around his senses.
Maybe they wouldn’t be found.
An idea so intoxicating and forbidden that it made him close his eyes and ground himself in reality.

“They’ll find me. But I’ll be long gone from here when they do.”

She spun to face him. The top of her head came to his chin. He wanted to tuck her into the curve of his body and shield her from anything that meant her harm. But that wouldn’t work when it was Alex’s presence that placed her in harm’s way to start with. She stared at him, confusion sharing space with something that might be anger.

At him? At the situation? At herself?

“You’re not here to protect us, are you, Alex?” she asked, her voice husky. “Humans, I mean.”

“Did you really think I was?”

She didn’t answer. He wished she would. For reasons he didn’t understand, he wished the truth could match her expectations.

“So why are you here, then? Why do you care if hellhounds eat up the natives?”

“It’s not natural.”

“Human’s aren’t meant to know they exist,” she finished for him, her voice flat. Disappointed.

He hated that he cared.

“How did you even know where to find the hellhounds?” she demanded. “Were you tracking them?”

“There was a sighting not far from here,” he said. “We knew we just needed to get close enough for them to smell us and they’d come.”

Her eyes rounded and her jaw dropped. “You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Well that’s a great plan if you want to get
eaten.
”

The bite of sarcasm caught him by surprise. Before he could respond in kind, she went on.

“If you want to hunt
them,
however, you have to see them before they know you’re there.”

“And how many hellhounds have you hunted?” he asked derisively.

“It doesn’t matter what you’re hunting. If they see you first, they have the advantage.”

“And you’re an expert because?”

“I watch the Discovery channel and I have five dogs, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Hellhounds are not dogs, not that you know a damn thing about them either.”

She scowled. He was right and they both knew it. “I could still tell they were smart.”

“They are.” He paused, eyeing Belle with a dark look. “Smarter than your dogs.”

“But what are they?”

“If I said,
demons,
would you sleep better knowing?”

She recoiled. She couldn’t help it. Alex wasn’t surprised.

“Why do you ask me questions when you know you’ll hate the answers?” he asked.

“I hate not knowing more,” she said with raised brows.

He couldn’t help but smile. “Do you practice that look in the mirror?”

“What look?”

“The one that hides your fear.”