Midnight Whispers - Paranormal Romance (10 page)

“You’re too
busy focusing on the mechanics,” he murmured, his lips so close to her ear she
could actually feel his breath against her skin. “I want you to stop worrying,
and just envision your target.” His grip tightened on her elbow, relieving some
of the stress on her arm as he helped take the weight of the bow. Kyra wanted
to sag in relief, but she knew that doing so would cause her to lean into his
body, and his presence was distracting enough as it was.

Frowning, she
did her best to clear her head and focused on the target—the big, red
circle in the center of the paper. “Breathe,” he told her. “Use your breathing
to steady yourself, to forget about everything else. It’s just you and the
target.”

She did as he
said, breathing deeply through her nose and focusing her attention until there
was nothing else; just her and the target, the big, red bull’s-eye just
beckoning her. She didn’t even hear Bryce anymore; her fingers released the
arrow of their own accord, and it sailed smoothly across the clearing and
landed in the center of the target with a satisfying
thwack.

As soon as it
was over, the sounds and smells and sights of the forest came rushing back to
her—the birds twittering, the scent of grass and trees and air. The sound
of Bryce’s breathing in her ear, his scent surrounding her. A rush of
adrenaline filled her and she lowered the bow, her arms trembling again.

“That was
incredible—” she started, turning to look at Bryce, but she misjudged how
close she was, and her lips brushed against his accidentally. They both froze,
Kyra’s heart beating hard against her chest, and then Bryce’s arms came around
her, pulling her close, and her mind was so scrambled she didn’t even think to
stop him.

Bryce had
known it was probably a bad idea to get so close to Kyra; the entire time he’d
been helping her he’d had to hold his body completely still—his heart
nearly exploded in his chest at the touch of her. He should have stepped back
as soon as she’d shot the arrow, but he’d instead taken those last few seconds
to enjoy the feel of her body pressed against his.

She felt even
better now, with his arms properly around her, pressing her softness into him.
He kissed her with the intensity of a starving man devouring a feast, coaxing
her mouth open so that he could taste her fully. Her tongue tangled with his,
and her breathy little whimper did nothing to discourage him. Her nipples
pebbled through the thin material of her dress, scraping his chest, and the
scent of her desire had him pressing her back against the nearest tree trunk.

“Bryce,” Kyra
tried, but it was incredibly hard to say much of anything when his tongue was
in her mouth. Her head swam with sensory overload—the pain from the bark
digging into her shoulder blades, the pleasure he gave her as he suckled and
nipped at her tongue, the excitement pumping through her bloodstream. She’d
been kissed a handful of times, and had never understood what the fuss was
about until now. His fingers dove into her hair, loosening her flaxen curls so
that they spilled down her shoulders, and he pressed hard against her.

No.
She
had to stop this, much as she didn’t want to. He tasted incredible, and the
pleasure he was giving her with just this kiss made her never want to let him
go. But she knew that kisses eventually turned into something more, and it had
only been a few days since they’d met—not nearly enough time to make a
decision. If she allowed him to take her they would be mated, and there would
be nothing she could do about it.

Belatedly,
she realized she’d dug her fingers into shoulders, pulling him close, and
forced herself to release him so she could push as his chest. It took her three
tries to get his attention—the first two were feeble and utterly
unconvincing. Finally she got him to move back just enough for her to turn her
face away.

“Bryce,” she
panted into the silence. “I can’t.”

He released
her, but did not step back, instead leaning his forehead against her own. She
turned her face back to see that his eyes were yellow again, and molten with
need. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “It’s… difficult.”

He took a
step back, and she understood what he meant—her body screamed in protest,
wanting his flesh pressed up against hers again. Their bodies seemed to be like
two magnets, pulling toward each other against the will of their
owners—or at least, against her will. “I know,” she said softly, moving
away from the tree lest she invite temptation once again, and putting another
two feet of distance between them.

They stood
there for a long moment, eyeing each other, neither sure what to say. Kyra took
deep breaths through her nose to try and calm her racing heart and steady the
ache inside her. She thought she understood why so many gave in to the mating
call—if this was the beginning, she was sure it would only get worse. But
she was strong, and she knew she had to do this. She wanted to learn more about
Bryce, and the village, before she gave him an answer.

“Perhaps I
should take you back to the maze now,” Bryce finally said, his eyes green once
more, though the desire in them hadn’t faded yet.

Kyra nodded.
“I would like to do more lessons, if that is alright with you.” She tried for a
smile to dispel some of the tension in the air. “I very much enjoyed it. And I
do like spending time with you. I just… I just can’t…”

He smiled. “I
know. And I would like to keep teaching you. I want you to be able to hunt if
you have to, and also to defend yourself from any wild animals. The forest is
generally a peaceful place, but even here danger can be found if you stumble
upon the wrong territory. And you don’t have a nose to tell you which places to
avoid. I’ll have to take you out and show you sometime; perhaps give you a
map.”

“That would
be lovely.” She placed her hand in his. “If you could take me back now, I would
be grateful.”

He led her
back to the maze, and they stood at the entrance for a long moment, simply
drinking their fill of another. The need to touch was building inside both of
them, and Kyra wondered how long they would be able to hold out. Would it
become painful, an exquisite torture? Could she really die from this?

“I’ll see you
tomorrow, Kyra.” Bryce looked as though he wanted to say more, but whatever it
was flickering in the depths of his eyes, he decided best not to speak of.

Unable to
help herself, she leaned up on tiptoe and gave him a hard, quick kiss, and then
fled into the maze.

****

 “We
cannot allow this to continue.” Ranulf, the clan’s Beta, snarled as he set his
tankard down on the wooden table with a loud
thunk.
The other shifters
nodded and growled in agreement, and then turned as one toward their Alpha to
hear what he had to say.

Charles
sighed and pressed a hand to his temple. “It’s a tragedy, to be sure—”

“A tragedy?”
Gabriel, his Gamma cut in. “That’s far too kind a word. Three of ours died that
night, and just yesterday Marie, Ian’s wife passed away. She was carrying, you
know. Just barely, but she was pregnant.”

Charles
glared at him icily. “Are you going to continue to interrupt me?” When Gabriel
said nothing, Charles continued, “I agree that something must be done. We
cannot continue to let the humans pick us off. It would be easiest if we could
discontinue the hunts, but that is not an option.”

It wasn’t
that they couldn’t hunt as humans, but that their inner wolves demanded the hunt,
and in order to maintain control of their animal half they had to appease it.
If they went too long without a hunt, the animal would try to wrest control,
and that was when shifters became truly dangerous.

“Why not
track down the humans who are hunting us and pay them back in kind?” Ranulf
suggested.

“And prove to
them that we are just as barbaric as they are?” Charles shook his head. “No. We
must send them a warning; a clear message that if they do not leave us alone,
we will rain hell down upon them.”

The other
shifters leaned forward eagerly, warming to the idea. “What about Bryce?”
Gabriel asked. “Should we tell him about this?” As the Epsilion and one of the
primary defenders of the Clan, Bryce should have been at the meeting, but he
was with Ian, doing his best to console the poor man.

Charles shook
his head. “He is in a precarious enough position, trying to woo a human mate. I
don’t want his head and his heart to be conflicted over this matter.”

Ranulf folded
his arms. “And what about this plan of yours? What if the humans choose not to
heed our warning?”

Charles
smiled grimly. “Then there will be war.”

****

 “Are
you certain you’ll be able to stop them?” the village chief asked, looking
nervously between the group of men standing in the square. They wore dark
clothes and wide brimmed hats that shielded their faces so the only thing
illuminated by the torches were their solemn mouths.

“We’ve
been doing this a long time, sir,” the man said, lifting his head so that his
blue eyes glittered in the torchlight. “If we can’t handle this monster for
you, then nobody can.”

“Al-alright.”
The chief held out a bag—the gold coins clinked as his hand trembled.
“Here is the first half. You’ll receive the rest when you’ve slayed the
monster.”

The man
frowned. “We don’t charge for our services.”

The
village chieftain hesitated. “You… were not the one who asked. It was a
red-headed fellow who made the arrangements.”

The man
turned, sharply. “What is this?”

The redhead
in question stepped forward. “I don’t think it’s fair for you to be dragging us
all over the countryside for nuthin’. I know you come from a well-to-do family
and you might not understand what it means to be hurtin’, but the rest of us
aren’t as fortunate as you.”

“I realize
that, which is why I offer my services for free.” The man took the gold and
handed it off to Ryan. “A good deed should be done for its own sake, not for
monetary gain.” He looked at the faces of his men, who stared steadily into his
eyes. “If I’d known that you all felt this way, I wouldn’t have asked you to do
this with me.”

The
village chief took a step back. “If you all don’t want the money—”

“No.” The
man turned, took the pouch, and tossed it to the redhead. “We’ll take
it—this once, because it was prearranged, and because the families of
these men are in need.” He turned back to his men. “But if you want to continue
hunting with me, you won’t do this again.”

Without
waiting for an answer, the man hopped on his horse and headed for the location
the village chief had spoken of. The thundering of hooves behind him told him
that his men were no ready to desert him—yet.

They
cantered down the dirt road and into the forest, until they reached another
point on the map. The man held up a hand and they stopped, dismounted and tied
their horses down while they proceeded on foot. Shortly, they came to a large
cave, set deep into a rock wall, and they could hear loud snoring echoing
through the stone walls to outside.

Silently,
they crept inside, and each of the men had to fight back a curse at the stench
that wafted toward them—urine, unwashed flesh and other odors best not
spoken of. The snoring became louder as they inched down the tunnel, becoming
even quieter as the flicker of torchlight came into view—they were close
to the monster’s den.

Rounding
the corner, the monster finally came into view—a hulking brute, covered
in hair from head to toe and nothing else, asleep face-up on a pile of animal
skins. Blood encrusted horns curved over his head, and they caught a glimpse of
fang from his open maw. In his left paw he held what looked like a human leg
bone, stripped clean of flesh, and there were many other bones littered across
the floor.

One of his
men accidentally stepped on one of the bones, and the crack echoed off the
cavern and woke the monster, who sat up, his red eyes glowing eagerly in the
dark. He came to his feet in a roar as he caught sight of them, and the man
cursed as he dove out of the way, and then threw one of his knives, which
landed with a solid thud between two of the behemoth’s ribs. The monster roared
in pain and lashed out with his burly arms, sending two of his hunters flying
into opposite walls. The man winced as he heard the sickening crunch of skulls
against stone.

Two of his
men who had managed to get themselves into corners peppered the monster with
arrows, taking out his eyes. It blundered around the cavern, roaring as it
tried to find a target, and the man used the opportunity to throw another
knife, this one burying itself into the monster’s heart.

It froze,
and then fell back, shaking the cavern as its body hit the floor. The hunters
stood immobile, not a single one daring to so much as twitch. Only when several
minutes had passed did they let out sighs of relief, convinced that the monster
was no more.

Shaking
his head in disgust, the man stepped forward. “Let’s collect our dead and get
out of here.”

****

 “Oh,
Kyra, it’s awful,” Aunt Sylvia rushed into the living room, and Kyra looked up
from her knitting to see that her aunt’s face was pale, her bonnet still on her
forehead, which was a true sign of alarm as her aunt never wore it in the
house. “The Bennet boys are dead.”

“What?” Kyra
set her knitting aside and rose from the rocking chair. “How? When?” The
Bennets owned a farm three miles down the road from them, and were a family of
five.

Sylvia shook
her head. “I don’t know. My friend Martha told me it was some kind of mauling
from a beast—perhaps a bear.”