Seduced by the Beast Page 2

  No thought could bolster her flagging endurance, however.

  Each second weighed like a minute, each minute an eternity. The world slowed around her, sounds distorted like screams under water. Her legs, leaden from running, weighted her down. It was becoming increasingly difficult to move one foot in front of the other. Raphael’s pace allowed her no reprieve.

  “Let me go,” she demanded again, a wave of dizziness washing over her in a nauseating wave.

  “You should never run from the pack. It increases their appetite. How can I trust you would not do so again?”

  The absurdity of her outrunning the hunters nearly made her laugh, especially considering her current condition. She would not be such a fool as to try again with their hunger unappeased, but it seemed unlikely he would believe her assurances. She was loath to reveal her weakness, but much longer and she would be unable to hide it from him. “I can only assure you that I will not,” she said finally.

  He seemed to consider her a long moment, then said, “Share with me but your name, and you may walk freely. Unless you enjoy my touch....”

  That he would concede some ground was all the incentive she needed. “Swan of Avonleigh,” she said.

  He released her, to her immense relief. Swan cradled her left arm, terrified to feel the heat of infection suffusing her hand. It was as she’d feared. Her steps slowed as she probed the wound, hoping she was mistaken. A sharp stab lanced up her arm with the light touch, and she groaned without thinking.

  He stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “What is wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  He cursed in a strange language. “Do you make a habit of lying?” He touched her hand, and she gasped and stumbled against him. Tears sprang to her eyes.

  “Who has dared harm you?” he demanded angrily, gripping her shoulders.

  “Morvere....” she whispered, clenching her eyes tightly shut. She was fading away. Faster and faster. Was day approaching? Was she changing yet again? It was her last thought as warm arms closed tenderly around her.

  * * * *

  “What ails her?” Arion asked, kneeling beside the fallen woman. Her ragged garment had been retrieved and draped around her shivering form.

  Raphael looked down at her, his anger building. “Other than an abundance of pride? She is injured. Someone has broken the heart line ... taken her finger.” He despised the harming of women. The pack members who had disobeyed his word were being punished even now. That he knew not who maimed her, and therefore could not exact vengeance, infuriated him beyond measure.

  Arion spared him a look before turning back to examine her. “Sounds like foul magic to me.”

  “Yes,” Raphael said. It was undeniable that she was under an enchantment. Magic clung to her dark, caramel skin like an invisible film. He would have sensed it even if he had not seen her change into the swan near the border firsthand. He had ordered his men to keep watch. He had not expected they would give chase. She’d nearly paid for that misjudgment with her life.

  “It smells unnatural, tainted by some magic. Illness has set into the wound. She is likely to die if it worsens.” Arion looked up at him, his face grave. “We’ve not the skill to care for humans, let alone one bewitched.”

  Beastmen had no need of healers, for they had the ability to regenerate and heal their own wounds. “I know of another possibility. But it cannot be done here.”

  “If it works, you must teach me the skill that can break a spell,” Arion said.

  “If it does, all beasts should learn.”

  He could spare her the indignity of more exposure, but there was no guaranteeing what he planned would even work. The kharez was a phenomenon so rare, he’d only heard of it happening once in the entirety of his life. His friend, Blasien, had been healed by just such and still knew not the nature of the kharez.

  A melding of essence and sexuality--the basis of creation--the powerful healing could only be used between normals and beasts for reasons unknown. And humans never mixed with their kind unless to kill them. Certainly never sexually.

  Still, it was the one chance the woman, Swan, had. If it worked, she would likely kill him when she recovered, but he thought it a small price to pay for life.

  Bending, he gathered her effortlessly into his arms. She trembled but remained unconscious. He nodded at Arion as he stood. “Let us make haste. We must reach Barakus before the silver moon sets.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Touching an unconscious woman held no appeal for Raphael. But the actions of a few rogue hunters forced him to make amends.

  The woman had been bathed, and her wounds cleansed and tended to the best of their ability. It had done little to ease the fever racking her body. Doubtless her flight through the woods had only worsened her injury.

  She’d been placed on his bed, soft furs draped around her body. In the room, lit dimly by basins of flame and the watery light of the red moon, she appeared unnaturally bleached and sickly. Her dark skin was dry when it should not have been--should have been soaked through with perspiration at her heat. He wondered that the wound affected her so harshly, but suspected dark magic had more to do with her illness than any natural cause.

  Raphael climbed into the bed and knelt beside her. He smoothed a gold strung lock of brown/black hair from her face. He’d never seen the like of it before and the highlights threading through her coarse dark hair fascinated him.

  Her eyes moved rapidly beneath her heavily lashed lids, her body twitching slightly, her mouth parted on a sigh. She was dreaming, likely of the chase or some other horror he could only imagine.

  Anger seeped into him. He clenched his hands into fists, then realized what he was doing. Deliberately, he drew and released a slow breath, forcing himself to remain calm. Reckless anger would do neither of them good.

  From Blasien, he knew the kharez was inherently sexual. Blasien’s woman had healed him with her body and unintentionally formed a connection between them. Sensual touch sparked the reaction. And it was time to begin, before she worsened ... or roused enough to refuse him.

  Raphael traced a finger lightly over her lush parted lips and down her right arm. Her skin was soft as down, smooth and perfect. Taking her hand in a gentle grip, he lifted it to his face and pressed his lips to her fingertips, feeling the rapid pulse beat of her heart. He moved over each slowly, lingering, sucking each small pad into his mouth to rake lightly with his teeth and soothe with his tongue.

  She moaned softly and shifted, drawing closer. The furs slipped down at her movement, revealing the soft, generous globes of her breasts, tipped with delightfully dark nipples in the light.

  His hands itched to curve around them, test their weighted softness in his palms. Heated blood rushed to his groin, his length swelling, hardening beneath his short kurt. Long had he been without a woman to touch ... to taste ... to bury his hard shaft deep inside. This woman--the human--tempted him.

  Smoothing his palms over her alluringly defined collarbone, he moved lower, watching her face for reaction as he skimmed her breasts with the softest touch. Her lips parted on a breathy sigh as her nipples pebbled, begging, needing more.

  He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. He pinched the tight buds, rolling each between his thumb and forefinger until she moaned and arched her back, thrusting her breasts closer to him.

  Unable to hold his baser side back, Raphael growled low in his throat and descended, brushing his lips down the column of her neck. He suckled her flesh, dipped his tongue into the hollow of her throat, felt the fragility of her life beating against his tongue.

  His teeth elongated with the bloodlust surging through him, the pulse beating at the base of her throat tempting him to taste her life’s essence. He’d not felt such longing in many years--had banished that side of himself that ached for the taste of innocent blood.

  He wrenched away from that temptation, breathing ragged and harsh, but she caught him, held his arms tight. Looking at her dark face, he saw tha
t she watched him. Her eyes were slumberous, dark and glazed with lust and fever. She licked her lower lip, drawing his gaze, maddening him beyond reason.

  Descending on her with a ferocity borne of long denial, he crushed his mouth to hers. Sucking her lips, he nicked her with his sharp teeth. Traces of blood mingled with the sweetness of her mouth, fueling the lust consuming his senses, threatening to push him over the edge of control.

  Swan made small, whimpering throat noises, moans of pleasure as he thrust the furs aside and settled his body against her naked flesh. He groaned into her mouth as she rubbed her tight, lithe body against him. She closed her arms around him, digging her nails into his back, clutching tight as he ravished her mouth. Sliding his tongue inside, he probed her dark crevices, curling his tongue around hers as she sucked him deeper.

  Her heat enveloped him, searing sanity, banishing reason. His hands moved with a mind of their own, down her taut stomach, past the thatch of coarse dark hair hiding her sex. His fingers teased her slit, moist with her desire. The evidence of her arousal was nearly his undoing. Raphael dragged his mouth away, along her jaw to her ear. Tracing the shell with liquid heat, he plunged his tongue inside as his fingers sought and found her clit.

  She moaned loudly, gasping as though she could not get enough breath. She spread her legs wide, tilting her hips to him. Fingers rapid, he worked the nub in tight circles until she lay panting beneath him. He broke his hand away from her lushness to rip his kurt away, until nothing barred him from taking her.

  His cockhead nudged her opening, wet with her juices. She was smaller than he’d reckoned, tighter. Bliss beckoned his possession.

  “Yes. Please,” she begged, her voice husky as she wrapped her legs around him.

  Beneath him, he could feel her body wracked by an unnatural heat, a fever that overtook her, leaving her senseless to his possession.

  He stilled, poised above her, tense. He’d lost his damned mind. Strained, his arms shook with the effort to control himself. A cold sweat broke out on his body. It would take little movement to sink into her depths. She was slick and needy for him.

  Swan arched beneath him, and his cockhead teased her entrance, jerking with need. He groaned, slipped infinitely inside. His arms shook more violently as restraint slowly crumbled. Her wet heat enticed, threatening to snap the remainder of his control.

  “Don’t stop. I beg you,” she cried, tossing her head back and forth on the silken furs, her eyes squeezed shut.

  “You know not what you ask,” he said through gritted teeth, pained with resistance.

  “I do,” she whispered and went still of a sudden, collapsing back.

  Raphael drew up as though the tension between them had shattered, surprised as her arms and legs fell away. Moisture beaded on her body, sliding down her curves. Her skin brightened to a warm sun-infused brown, suffused with life, healthy and perfect. The fever had broken.

  He moved from between her legs, beside her prone body. Tension shook him to the core, for he still felt that desperate need to claim her body in every pore. How he’d managed to not sink into her depths and ease his lustful needs, he did not know.

  Kneeling over her, he touched her face. She slept. Her skin was cooling. No longer did the scent of illness cling to her.

  Had the kharez worked?

  He could not know, but it was likely so. And dawn was fast approaching. If his suspicions were correct, she would be changing soon.

  Raphael stood and covered her once more. His body thrummed with need, insatiate. He touched his still hard cock and groaned at the pleasurable pain. He promised himself that he would have this human when next he saw her, until the unbidden lust she aroused as woman and prey was cleansed from his body.

  * * * *

  An alien hardness nudged the opening of her sex, probing, painful. She arched her back, welcoming the intrusion with all her being....

  Swan awoke with a start, gasping with remembered sensation, a cold sweat broken across her brow. Shivering, she wiped the moisture away, realized she was trapped in place. An unfamiliar heat lay at her back, cradling her length. She shifted, but a heavy weight held her in place, draped across her hip.

  Looking around from her vantage point, she saw she lay in a strange bed, covered with dark furs. Beside the bed sat a squat table with the remnants of her robes. Bed posts rose from the corners, carved in the likeness of rampant wolves. In their teeth, dark gauze stretched between them--a net that could be dropped to protect from annoying insects, she presumed. Large stone blocks made up the walls of the room. An arched window was cut into the side wall she could see. Further down she could see a basin of flame that gave off flickering light and warmth.

  Her attention returned to the bed, the other occupant, and the hand draped possessively around her. She had no memory of coming here. And she was as naked as the day she was born. Swan wondered frantically if she’d been sodomized, but a mental body check confirmed there was no tenderness, no aching, torn flesh. Her sexual muscles were relaxed and whole as the rest of her body.

  The weakness she’d last recalled was gone, as was her nagging injury. Swan flexed her left hand in wonder. The consistent pain had vanished though the shock of the missing digit still greeted her. What magic did these beastmen possess?

  From her position, she looked out of the window that faced her, though she could see sky and nothing else. Twilight reigned, that hazy darkness that warned of approaching dawn ... or coming night. She could not remember changing, but then, she usually did not, no more than the barest sense of it. Could an entire day have passed without her knowledge?

  And if she had changed back and been healed, who then lay at her back? Logic dictated it would be her captor, Raphael. He would naturally be the most powerful hunter if he ruled them. Spoils always went to the victor. Seized by curiosity, Swan turned into his embrace for a glimpse at the man who would call her prisoner.

  His hand slid down her hip at her movement, dangerously close to her femininity. She stilled, held her breath as she awaited some sign he’d awakened. The deep rhythm of his breathing greeted her. He’d not been disturbed.

  Lying at an angle now, all she could see from the corner of her eye was a shock of black hair. Her hip began cramping from the twisted position. She couldn’t hold it for long. She wondered just how deeply he slept. With the time, she must’ve changed a short while ago, so he could not have slept near her long. Certainly he’d not fallen into a deep sleep so quickly. The sky steadily darkened to pitch as she waited. The moons slowly began their ascent.

  As she lay studying him, an outrageous plan began to take form in her mind. She dismissed it at first, daunted by the enormity of it, unnerved that it had even occurred to her, feeling her pulse quicken with an odd mixture of excitement and alarm. Still, it nagged at her, refusing to be quelled until she examined the idea for flaws.

  There were, she concluded, a wealth of them. On the other hand, she was in no position to dismiss a plot she perceived as holding tremendous potential for gaining what she needed. With an effort, she forced her doubts to the back of her mind, forced herself to calm reflection. The plot would only work if he was sound asleep as she suspected. It was wicked, not at all the thing for a lady to do, but it was her one chance to convince the beastman she was serious. If he wouldn’t willingly help her--she’d force his hand.

  Swan listened once more to confirm her safety. Satisfied, she began inching away from him. Sweat dotted her skin as she concentrated on small movements, moving with excruciating slowness. Finally, she managed to dangle one leg over the side of the bed. She was near spread eagle from the position, and his hand slipped steadily down, until it rested between her thighs. She gritted her teeth at the contact, flushing. Her body felt like a flower thirsting for water, thirsting for the heat and feel of him. Long had she been without a man’s touch, not since she’d lost the seal of her body so many years ago in one careless act of defiance. An inch more and he could delve into her womanhood--
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br />   She closed her eyes, willed the blossoming desire down. He knew not what he did. It was abhorrent the thoughts flooding her mind. He didn’t knowingly touch her--she could be any woman for all he was aware. It was insane to react to the touch of a beast, a stranger.

  Slowly, she regained her purpose and used the strength of her leg to slide out from under him. She freed herself enough to rise from the bed. Almost at once, he sighed and turned, lying flat on his back with his arms upraised.

  Swan stopped breathing as she awaited discovery. Watching him suspiciously, she got her first look at the man who had captured her. When he didn’t stir immediately, when it was certain he slept on, she took her leisure in examining this man-beast. He was different than she’d thought, not at all the monster she had visualized.

  Long, black hair shrouded his face, streaming over the sharp line of his jaw. A single strand caught in the part of his full lips. She itched to remove it, part the flow of hair to see him fully, but she didn’t dare. Almost, she wished he would open his eyes, just so she could see the color, but that time would come soon enough.

  The rising moon increased at the window and sculpted the hard lines of his chest in the silver light. It slipped along his tapering waist and the flat hardness of his stomach, drawing her eyes down. He was completely naked, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to look at his sex. Not the smallest measure of fat existed on his body. He was all muscle and rampantly male, more so than any other she’d ever known--and far more dangerous.

  She wondered what he looked like awake. Would his muscles play fluidly with restrained power? Would his smile be as feral as she imagined? Swan shook herself from the arresting vision of him in repose. Now was not the time to dawdle. She had no notion the ways of servants in this castle, but she couldn’t chance discovery before she’d had the chance to put her plot into action.