Defying Destiny (17 page)

heard her if there had been any distance

between them.

“I haven’t kissed you yet today.”

“Oh.”

His mouth covered hers. He shuddered

when her lips parted, seeking the deep,

longing kisses that made his blood run hot.

His kind didn’t kiss often and never like

this. He’d had no idea how much pleasure

could be shared by the caress of lips on

lips, tongue on lips, tongue on tongue. Her

arms went up to circle his neck as he

deepened the kiss. He tugged her closer,

his fingers clutching the fabric of her pants

at her hips with desperation. The soft

globes of her breasts pressed into his

chest, yet he felt she wasn’t close enough.

He crushed her against him, lust swirling

through his body. God, he wanted her,

even if it had to be in his human form.

“Maralee, what’s taking you so long?”

Carsha called, her voice growing louder

as she walked toward the kitchen.

Nash tore away from Maralee,

avoiding her eyes as the small girl entered

the room. Maralee returned to her task.

“Almost finished,” Maralee said, her

voice sounding husky with need. Nash’s

groin tensed at the sound of it.

His
niece
, God love her. He had never

wanted to throw her out in yard before,

but he did now.

He watched Maralee. His consuming

need for her bewildered him. Why her?

There were plenty of women of his own

kind who were beautiful and sexy, but

when he compared them to this bullheaded

little Huntress they all seemed as dull and

uninspired.

Nash’s gaze settled on the gentle curve

of Maralee’s rear as she bent over the

counter, and then shifted to the cleft

between her legs. He could smell her

excitement and it did strange things to his

ability to think rationally. At least he

didn’t shift into his Wolf form as he had

that morning for the sole purpose of

increasing the keenness of his sense of

smell. “Carsha, maybe you should go

home now.”

“But why? Maralee hasn’t fixed my

hair yet.”

Maralee chanced a glance at him over

her shoulder and he looked at the ceiling.

If she knew what he was thinking at the

moment, she’d probably head directly for

the safety of the inn.

“I’m going for a walk,” he decided

finally.

He avoided looking at Maralee as he

headed for the door. She seemed equally

uneasy in his presence.

“This is never going to work,” he said

to himself as he lit a cigarette on the

porch. He took a deep drag and let out a

more relaxed breath. “How am I supposed

to convince her we aren’t a bunch of

animals when I behave like a beast

whenever I’m alone with her?”

“Talking to yourself, Nash?”

His mother appeared at the foot of his

steps and smiled at him indulgently.

“Yeah.”

“How was your trip to the human

village?” she asked.

“Fine.” He wondered what she was

doing here.

“I just came to check on Carsha,”

Stacia said. It was uncanny how the

woman always seemed to read his mind.

“I saw you return.”

“She’s fine. Had a great time.”

“They didn’t stare at you. Make you

feel like a sideshow attraction.”

“A few,” Nash admitted. “Some of

them are very kind.” He thought of the

innkeeper’s wife and how she’d brought a

smile to Carsha’s face.

“And some of them murder our kind

for the bounties our dead bodies bring.”

He knew she was referring to

Maralee. “She won’t. Not when she

realizes we are as human as we are

Wolf.”

“Some of us are trying to be something

we’re not.”

He

avoided

responding

to

her

comment. He didn’t agree with her. He

was as much human as he was Wolf,

though he found himself changing his

habits to make Maralee feel more at ease.

That trip through the forest would have

been swift and easy in his Wolf form, yet

he’d gone the entire distance on two legs.

In time, he would reveal his secret to her.

He had to admit just thinking about her

reaction ate at his gut. If he told her,

would she ever be able to see him as

anything but an animal?

“I’ll go see if Carsha is ready to

leave,” he said, forgetting his original

intention to go for a walk.

He snuffed the butt of his cigarette

beneath the heel of his boot and let himself

into the house. He did not invite his

mother inside, presuming she would say

something to distress Maralee or remind

her to start asking for her damned sword

again.

He

found

the

source

of

his

preoccupation kneeling on the bearskin

rug behind Carsha. Maralee ran a large

brush through Carsha’s thick, dark gray

hair. His niece had a look of pure bliss on

her face.

“Your hair is so soft,” Maralee said,

seeming to find enjoyment in brushing

Carsha’s long, straight hair.

“That feels good,” Carsha murmured,

opening her eyes slightly to look at Nash.

“Uncle Nash, you should let Maralee

brush your hair too.”

“Probably not a good idea.”

“Why not?”

“Grandmother is waiting for you

outside,” he said, purposely changing the

subject.

“Oh,” Maralee said. “We’d better

hurry then.”

She set the brush aside and fastened

Carsha’s hair back on either side of her

face with the pair of daisy barrettes. She

smiled at her handy work.

“You

look

beautiful,”

Maralee

declared. “Doesn’t she, Nash?”

He was gazing at Maralee when he

responded. “Yeah.”

Maralee smiled, seemingly oblivious

to the effect she was having on him.

Carsha climbed to her feet and grabbed

her furs and bundle of cookies. Maralee

watched as the girl took her hand and

licked the back of it before skipping

towards the door and letting herself

outside.

“That was a kiss,” Nash told Maralee

who was staring at the wet spot on the

back of her hand with a puzzled

expression on her face.

She looked up at him, her eyes resting

on his mouth. “Kiss?”

His pulse accelerated and he knew

they were both thinking the same thing.

Their kiss had been interrupted and

neither of them had had their fill as of yet.

“I’ll start the fire,” Nash said. He

needed to keep busy or he’d be making

some very bad decisions that might

compromise his ultimate goal, which was

not, despite the insistence of his body,

heart, and mind, to possess Maralee in

every sense of the word.

“I think I’ll go wash up and change

clothes,” Maralee said.

Nash glanced at her. “There’s a water

closet behind the cold room.”

She nodded, with a slight smile.

“Thank you.”

She left the room, taking her knapsack

with her and Nash started the fire, staring

at the flickering flames for what seemed

like hours before she returned. She was

freshly scrubbed and clean, her hair damp

from being washed. The perfume of her

soap and shampoo masked the delightful

scent of her body, but Nash knew better

than to voice a protest. She already

thought he was strange.

“I forgot my brush,” she said, her gaze

darting around the room to look at

anything but him.

The brush was lying on the bearskin

rug near him, but he didn’t hand it to her.

He waited for her to come closer to

retrieve it. He wasn’t even sure what he

was thinking of doing until she knelt down

and picked up the brush. He caught her

hand. Their gazes locked.

“I’ll brush your hair for you,” he said.

She couldn’t look away. He was

purposely encouraging her submission

with his hypnotic gaze, a gaze that could

turn a pack of mad Wolves into obedient

puppies. He probably shouldn’t use his

power over her, but she had a stubborn

streak and he was used to getting his way.

He urged her to sit in front of him and took

the brush in his hand, drawing it through

her waist-length black hair. Her breathy

sighs of contentment soon had him worked

up again. He dropped the brush and

burrowed his fingers into the silky strands.

She pulled away from him abruptly, and

he decided he had pushed her too far, yet

again.

He was astonished when she turned

around and pushed him onto his back

rather forcefully. She rose above him on

her hands and knees, one knee between his

legs uncomfortably close to certain

swelling parts of his anatomy. She had one

hand planted on either side of his chest.

Her hair drifted down around them like a

curtain of black silk. She stared down at

him, taking the role of the aggressor. She

seemed to be waiting for something as she

watched him for his reaction.

“Maralee,” he murmured, not sure

what she was expecting him to do.

She lowered her head and kissed his

lips gently before straightening again.

“What—”

She kissed him again, straightened and

continued to stare down at him.

Was she teasing him? Trying to take

him to his breaking point? He was nearly

there, he had to admit.

“Maralee?”

“I like you like this,” she murmured,

with a mischievous grin. She kissed him

more passionately this time, drawing a

sigh of protest from him when she pulled

away at last. “You seem almost

vulnerable.”

Vulnerable? He had never been

referred to as vulnerable in all of his one

hundred and twelve years. She leaned

forward again, this time her hip brushed

his cock, drawing a shuddering gasp from

his lips. She seemed to like this new game

of hers.

“Do you like that?” she asked him,

lowering her hips and rubbing against him

again.

Lord, it was sensitive. So responsive

to her teasing touch.

“God,” he gasped, eyes drifting

closed, fingers curling in the thick fur of

the bearskin beneath him. He wanted to

bury himself inside her.
Needed
to.

“I think you’re starting to realize how I

feel,” she murmured, running her tongue

over his lips, pressing her hip against him

more firmly. “You want me, but you’re not

sure what to do about it.”

“I know exactly what to do about it,”

he denied, his hands moving to grab her

buttocks and grind her against his aching

groin.

Her eyes widened with surprise. She

apparently expected him to have more

self-control.

He

wasn’t

sorry

to

disappoint her. He lifted his head from the

floor and claimed her mouth in a searing

kiss. She collapsed on top of him, arms

moving closer to his sides so she could

cling to his shoulders as passion

consumed them both. He continued to rub

her hip against his hardened flesh as he

massaged her rear roughly. This seemed to

excite her almost as much as it excited

him.

“Nash,” she said into his mouth.

His hand drifted from her bottom to

between her thighs and the beckoning

warmth he found there. She tore her mouth

from his.

“Don’t stop this time,” she demanded.

“Are

you

sure?”

he

asked,

disbelieving she could want him even one

tenth as much as he wanted her.

She nodded and then glanced at the

front door nervously. It was still early

afternoon. “But not here. Someone might

come in.”

To his room then. He climbed to his

knees and crawled in that direction,

dragging her along with one arm around

her narrow waist. He had pulled her

halfway down the hall when he realized

he couldn’t wait another second. She

emitted a small gasp of surprise when he