chapter 4
Alon held tight to the little Skinwalker, who had finally come to accept that he was stronger than she. How he’d love to just let her go. But his mother would skin him alive. Alon knew Sebastian by reputation. His mother would want him to protect her friend’s child.
“If I release your wrist will you promise not to run?”
“Why? I thought you could catch me so easily.” She tried for a fierce look that only put a wrinkle in her pretty brow. This game wearied him.
“Perhaps I will tie you to that tree,” he said.
That arched an eyebrow as she turned to consider the tree in question. He didn’t have any rope, but she didn’t seem to realize that.
She held on to her anger, gnawing her full lower lip, but she conceded. “I will not run.”
He released her instantly, happy to be away from the softness of her skin and the scent that drew him like nectar.
Now he could not feel her yielding curves. But he could see them. Samantha Proud was tall for a woman, reaching nearly to his chin, and he found that he liked the way her body fit to his as much as he admired the grace of her movements.
She had an extremely pleasing feminine form, full and shapely at the breast and hip, and narrow in the waist. Her thick dark brown hair had come loose in her wild run, and she no longer wore the ridiculous ranger hat. Where had it gone? The thick strands now cascaded in a tangle over her shoulder, spilling over her full breasts and curling at her waist. Her mane framed her heart-shaped face. Her large eyes, high flushed cheeks and pointed chin combined to be more than their parts. His stomach twitched as he studied her, resisting the urge to advance. Her full lips could not be pressed into a flat, grim line, though she tried. She narrowed her cinnamon eyes at him. The unspoken threat and obvious displeasure amused him, and he felt an unfamiliar smile tease at his mouth.
“Now what?” she asked.
It was an excellent question and one to which he had no answer. He wished Aldara was here. His twin sister was the more vicious, but she was female and might know what to do with Samantha.
Alon could think of only one thing. But he knew his mother would not approve. He cast aside his baser instincts for the moment, though he had captured her fair and square. With her, he forgot his moral objections to taking a woman and began to consider how it might best be done.
“Alon?”
He had to shake his head to drive off the lustful images. Why did she have to smell so intoxicating? Why was her hair all rich brown and falling about her shoulders in a curtain. Her long lashes made her eyes even more entrancing.
“Now, I take you back to the house and...”
She raised her sculptured brows, hanging on his words. When he stopped her expression turned to disapproving.
“And?”
“Contact your folks? I’m not sure. I’ve never found a Skinwalker in the woods before. Why did the ghosts attack you?”
“No offense, but I don’t know you. I want to speak to Bess.”
He shrugged and then motioned in the direction of home. The woman was a pain, but she was also pretty, tall and strong. Any male would find her attractive. Any who was looking for companionship.
He was not. He had to remind himself again. He never would be.
“So your mom is gone. What about your twin sister and Bess’s husband, Cesar Garza?”
“My sister and I are gathering the remaining yearlings.” He lifted his nose, searching for Aldara’s scent, but did not find it. She’d promised to stay close. “My parents took my pack north to relocate because ghosts have been seen close to this place. Neither will come back here.”
“Nagi’s ghosts?”
“We’ve known for some time that a war was coming. My parents warned yours. They warned everyone. Few would listen. Nagi is recruiting us to join his army. Your father knows this. Your family may have been the first to be attacked, but they won’t be the last. An army of Ghostlings will be hard to defeat.”
“Ghostlings?”
Had she not heard the term?
“Naginoka, children of Nagi. Bess calls us Ghostlings or Ghost Children. What do you call us?”
Samantha glanced away. Had she heard the other words, the ones that marked them as what they were? Walking Dead. Toe Taggers. Alon ground his teeth to keep them from lengthening. Strong emotions brought the change.
It was why he needed to be rid of her. He did not wish to admit it, but she affected him, aroused him and brought him one step closer to his most savage self.
But when he touched her, the sensation was like nothing he ever experienced, hot and cold, desire mixed with panic. She was dangerous, this one, because she threatened his control.
“What does that mean, that he’s recruiting Ghostlings?” she asked.
“He’s hunting us.”
Samantha stopped walking, and he was forced to stop again. He didn’t like talking, and he especially did not like talking about this. But he did find pleasure in her voice. The resonance and timbre hit him in the chest.
“Hunting? What happens when he catches one?”
“He gives him a choice. Join his army or die.”
Her face went pale. “How many have joined?”
“Ah,” he said. “For a moment I thought you sympathized with our plight.” He turned away.
She trotted to catch up.
“I might be more sympathetic if they hadn’t attacked my family. My father stayed behind to fight. They were slashing at him with those razor claws when the Thunderbirds took me. I don’t know if he’s alive or dead.”
He paused so she could draw even with him. “How many Ghostlings?”
“Maybe a half dozen.”
“He’s dead.”
Samantha staggered. He reached out to steady her. The instant his fingers brushed her hand the electric surge returned, stronger than before. His heart sped, blood roared and his arousal stirred. He broke away.
Dangerous. She was all that, and in ways he had never imagined. She looked stunned, as well. She drew her hand to her chest, cradling it as if his touch had burned her skin.
“But my father has never been defeated,” whispered Samantha.
“Then he has never faced a Ghostling.” This time he saw his words strike her like arrows. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes went glassy. He recalled his mother saying he was too blunt and that the truth, especially a hard truth, needed to be delivered with care.
“My father stayed to protect us, to give us time to flee.”
“Then he did his duty as a father, defending his young.”
“I want to go back for him.”
Alon’s expression was serious. “But did he not fight so you could live? To go back would be to throw away his sacrifice.”
Her eyes welled with glistening silver tears, and she dashed them away as they fell.
“He asked you to find my mother. That is what you should do.”
Her nostrils flared as she narrowed her dark eyes on him, but she nodded her consent. Perhaps she did not like him reminding her of her duty to her parents.
He brushed the hair from her face, the backs of his fingers grazing the high angle of her cheekbone. The rage caught him like a blow. Was that his anger or hers?
His claws emerged from his fingers and his skin tingled with energy. The change was coming. He released Samantha and took several steps back. He needed to calm himself or she’d see him change.
“The Thunderbirds might have saved him,” he offered, squeezing his hands to fists and willing himself to take slow, steady breaths. Each one brought the floral scent of her to him. The sharp claws retracted and he let his shoulders sag.
She blinked at him with those impossibly long lashes, and he was hit with another emotion—lust, deep and red. He was not touching her, so he knew that this reaction was all his. He tried to move away, but she reached out her hand. The only way to control his response was not to touch her, yet he found his arm lifting, his fingers lacing with hers. How could the simple pressing of palm to palm raise every hair on his body?
“Do you think so?”
The hope flickering in her russet-brown eyes did something to his insides. It felt as if she squeezed his heart instead of his hand. What was happening to him?
“They protect Skinwalkers. He is a Skinwalker. Therefore they protect him.” The logic that so annoyed his mother seemed to help Samantha, for a smile broke like the dawn across her lovely face.
She lunged at him, and he had time only to brace himself before her arms wrapped about his neck as she hugged him. He stiffened as she pressed to him. His body sprang to attention with a rush of blood and surging need.
What madness was this? Why would she hug him now that she knew what he was?
She seemed to come to her senses in slow degrees. Did she notice that he did not hug her back? That his hands stayed in fists at his sides and he held his body rigid as a corpse? She slid off him, her toes returning to the earth as she pushed away.
He found his breath again, but each time he inhaled, the air was full of her arousing, alluring scent. He growled.
“I’m sorry, Alon. I didn’t mean to upset you.” She stared up at him. “What’s wrong with your eyes?”
They were likely changing color, turning from icy blue to the sickly yellow of his first form. He spun, giving her his back, and stalked away.
This time she pursued him.
“Do you really think that he’s alive?”
He would do nothing to crush the hope he now heard in her musical voice. But neither did he want her joyful again. It was too dangerous for them both.
“It’s possible.”
She trotted behind him in silence for a shockingly short time. Then the questions began again.
“You don’t look like the ones that attacked my family. Why are you so different?”
He cast a glance back at her.
“Nothing personal, but I’m not inclined to answer your questions, either. Two-way street.”
Her brow wrinkled and she stopped again, pressing both hands to her hips in a posture that reminded him of his mother when she was on a tear.
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
What she looked like naked. He paused, weighing his options, knowing he should leave her, knowing he would not.
“Well?”
“Nothing. I don’t want to know anything about you except how to get rid of you.”
Her hands slid from her hips and dropped to her sides. Her chin trembled for a moment before she bit down on her lower lip with straight white upper teeth. Did she use the pain to keep her from tears? He stepped closer, fascinated. His sister never cried.
“I didn’t ask to come here.”
“Neither did I invite you.”
She folded her arms over her chest. Her breasts squeezed upward from the constriction, and he forced himself to look away an instant too late. Damn, he wanted to see what she had under that stupid uniform. He wanted to pin her to the earth and...
“How much farther?”
He didn’t know if he should shake her or kiss her. He wanted to do both. He stared at the trees and prayed to the Great Spirit to send him control.
“Four hundred and fifty meters,” he said.
“Do you have internet? I want to write my family and tell them I am all right.”
That might be premature, he thought. If Nagi was after her, he might be following her. If he found her, Nagi would find him and Aldara and all the young ones hidden in these woods. He and Aldara were the eldest. It was their duty to keep them safe.
“To get to the computer, we have to move that way.” He thumbed over his shoulder. “And you keep stopping.”
Samantha continued beside him without pausing or asking her endless questions. Alon listened for the yearlings while scenting the air for their trail. For some reason they were not in their usual territory. Perhaps Aldara had succeeded in communicating with them. If anyone could, it would be his sister.
The packs roaming the property concerned him deeply. Samantha had been very lucky that he found her first.
Or was it luck? He thought of the Thunderbirds dropping her practically at his feet.
He didn’t take it as some grand sign. The Supernaturals had correctly determined that he was the creature least likely to kill her on sight and placed her accordingly.
But then, why hadn’t they taken her to Bess as her father had wished? They could have. They could find anyone anywhere. So why hadn’t they? The reason for their action eluded and troubled him.
They broke from the trees a few moments later and entered a wide alpine meadow.
“There it is.” Alon pointed.
At the crest of the rise sat the impressive log structure that looked large and grand enough to be some sort of lodge. In fact, it had been so before Bess repurposed the building into a living space for her adopted horde. When they outgrew it, Cesar built the dorms and later the school behind the main house. Alon glanced toward the clapboard construction where he now lived and then flicked his gaze at her. She’d be safer in the house. None of the yearlings ever ventured there.
“You’ll stay in there,” he said.
She lifted a brow as if to argue. He narrowed his eyes.
“It will be more difficult to keep you alive if you leave this place.”
“The only threat that I’ve seen so far is you.”
He didn’t argue the point. He was a threat but not the only one here, regardless of what she had seen. Something about this little Skinwalker interested him, and that was dangerous for her. Alon knew what he was capable of, even if his parents did not. They had a blind spot for all their children, denying their true natures and giving them high ideals. Alon feared his parents would soon be disappointed. The prospect of Bess and Cesar seeing their “children” for what they truly were troubled him, as well.
“And how do I know that Suncatcher lives in that house?”
Alon paused. He’d never been called a liar before and found it irritated him.
“Where is she exactly?”
“Moving north with the eldest of my siblings. All that would go have gone. Aldara and I stayed behind to try to convince the others. The Beta, Gamma and Delta packs.”
“Packs?”
“We run in packs with those of our approximate age. I’m Alpha. The Betas are near their final change, approaching fifteen. The Gammas are less than ten, and the Deltas only babies, two and under. The Betas have roamed too far for us to easily find them. The Gammas refuse to leave this place because they cannot conceive a threat. It is not in our nature. The Deltas are not old enough to understand what we ask. At so young an age their needs are...basic. Aldara believes we can convince all of them to follow.”
“But you do not?”
“My kind is not open to persuasion. They are influenced only by superior force. To the young ones all creatures are either predator or food.”
Samantha frowned at this answer.
He motioned toward the house. “Inside there is a phone, computer, food, facilities for washing. Take what you like and stay inside until I return for you.”
“When will that be?”
“After nightfall.”
He turned to leave her.
“When will Bess be back?”
“She has abandoned this place. When I have finished with the packs, I will bring you to her.”
That did not seem to please Samantha, judging from the pinched expression and the line that now formed between her elegant brows.
“Why don’t you just tell me how to find her?”
He shook his head. It was a miracle one of the packs hadn’t discovered Samantha already. He wasn’t about to cross his fingers and point her north.
“No.”
“My father told me to find Bess.”
“You can wait or you can die. Your choice.” He stalked away.