Beauty and the Brute [Werescape III] (5 page)

My groin went rock hard.

The gentle pressure of those fingers so Gods-be-damned close to my cock only complicated things.

Wolf snarled with pleasure.

Not good.

"Alright,” she said.

No. Things were not alright. Admitting that would be foolish. Not with a Normal woman at the root of my insanity. I'd help her escape. Feed her. Protect her. But she was going. Far away.

A different direction. When I found a safe place to leave her. Only then could a man breathe easy. Free of honor's burden in the case of a Normal. Yep. Then I could shout fuck honor and get back on my way.

The afternoon in the saddle wore on beneath the summer's baking sun like the alien's extermination ray until my inner radar told me we were close enough to Cliff's Tack to reach it before sunset with Trance walking. Beauty's grip on my waist eased. So had my stiff cock's insistence it find some release. But the woman's mere presence radiated enough energy I

couldn't ignore she sat there. Behind me. All those curves and soft skin.

My body hummed.

Or Wolf did.

This mission of mercy metamorphosed from my saving Beauty to my finding some way to save my inner beast from loss of sanity. But what could you expect from an animal? That's what

Normals called Shifters. Why they called us animals. There was no way Beauty saw me as anything else. The truth resonated in her eyes. In that gaze full of fear or disgust. What would she think if I placed her boots back on the ground and allowed her to leave? Yet, I'd given my word. Honor held a man to a higher sense of purpose.

And the outpost wasn't far. Cliff's Tack had a sheltering wooden barricade of upturned tree trunks. We could sleep safely behind the trading post's gate.

"What is this place?” I asked, staring over Brutus’ shoulder at the open gateway through the wall of sharpened tree trunks.

The horse plodded along the hard-packed earthen road that wound through the heavily wooded area down to the community.

"A trading post."

Three words were better than none. I'd managed to keep our rest breaks to two. But he'd said nothing other than time to go. Lordy, that formidable stare would be the death of me.

Nothing could make me look into his deadly eyes again. Nothing.

A black-headed man dressed in a red-and-black plaid flannel shirt peered over the top of the wall. “Rider,” he shouted.

"Let me do the talking,” Brutus said.

Like I'd know what to say. “Of course."

One by one, heads popped up along the fence walls. Heads with sparkling guns. Long rifle barrels. Revered in their glinting polish. Used. To kill.

The horse plodded onward.

An older man in brown leather, tanned and fashioned by someone with the skill to make his clothing look as well-fitted as the clothing scavenged from houses, stepped through the trading-post's entrance, pointing a rifle at us. “That's close enough, Shifter."

Shit! So much for being one of the last educated Normals. Cursing would probably be what saved my ass though. If something happened, I'd better have a good grip on Brutus. I snaked my arms around his steely ribs.

He stiffened.

Maybe he didn't like me touching him? But I had all day.

"What do you want?” the man asked.

Brutus leaned back, slightly, just enough to obviously allow me the best hold I could of his chest. “A place to sleep. We'll leave at sunrise."

"We don't want any trouble. Lots of trouble today. The Lord and his followers of New

Pittsburgh were terminated."

News traveled fast in the wilderness.

"The only trouble I foresee is my woman being caught out after curfew.” Brutus’ chest vibrated with his thundering deadly announcement.

His woman. I guess the only way to deal with this situation is with lies. But why make these

Normals think he and I were mated and highly marketable as a commodity to interested extraterrestrials? Then, he should have called us mates. Should have made us inseparable.

The man in leather thrust his jaw back toward the trading-post's inner workings. “Fine. We could use a Shifter's senses tonight, given the circumstances. Just in case the aliens decide to head this way and clean up the countryside."

Brutus nodded. “A trade then. I guard Cliff's Tack in exchange for lodging for my woman."

Nice deal. But shouldn't he have referred to me as his mate? That would have terrified these men. Or caused more problems. He probably chose to keep us somewhat bonded but not officially. Mated or not, we could be exchanged all the same.

The horse's back began rocking again, passing through the thick timbers of the gateway.

The aroma of savory meat hit me.

Food. Would we be offered any? Crackers just weren't adding up to a full stomach.

My gut snarled.

The man in leather pointed at a small square log cabin. “You can hold up there tonight. The owner won't be back for another moon. Your horse will be fine around back. There's a small stall."

Brutus nodded.

A few steps later, Brutus slid from the saddle and grabbed my waist with the gentlest touch, hefting my boots to the ground. He never stopped scanning the stronghold. “Stay close to me at all times."

No problem. Especially after he decided to make us the hottest bloody commodity within a hundred miles. I think.

One by one, the hodgepodge of wilderness men angled close in their denim, leather, plaid, and wool, keeping a descent distance between them and us.

Disgusting men. The kind who licked their lips while studying a woman like she was a pork chop. Men who had meat on a spit already.

Brutus’ wide form blocked the gawking crowd.

Thank goodness. Staring was rude. Unless you were Brutus and could kill with a glance.

"Come on.” He took the horse by the halter and pulled the horse around with my body wedged between the saddle and Brutus’ back.

Smart move. Nobody could see anything but my boots and blue jeans. I followed Brutus’ slim belted waistline around the cabin to a shanty shack added to the backside of the building.

The side was open to the south. Probably for ventilation. The space blocked north winds and kept off the rain. The perfect spot for a horse.

Brutus turned that unsettling gaze to me, holding the horse by his halter. “Wait inside."

With the leering males behind me, who would argue with a brutish command?

The stallion was stripped of his tack, backed into the stall, and left with a feedbag of grain behind a rope tied at just the right point to keep the beast in his stall.

Apparently, wise Shifters prepared for everything. Except in carrying travel food for themselves.

Brutus hefted his saddle and saddlebags. “Stay with me."

Of course. Did I look like a moron? I followed him through sparse tufts of unruly grass along the cabin's walls on the way back to the lodge's door.

Only the trader in the red-and-black shirt remained.

My Guardian stared him down.

Probably challenging him. One would think the Normal would tuck tail and run being on the receiving end of Brutus’ deadly stare.

But my Shifter heaved the wooden door into a small shadowy square of a space holding a small wooden table and two chairs. The only other visible object in the dim sunlight rested upon the tabletop.

A hurricane lamp. Hopefully, the glass base contained plenty of oil. Night would fall soon.

Even though Brutus had night vision, a wise girl wouldn't want to be trapped in the darkness without some sort of light. The world crawled with bugs at night.

A chill crept down my spine

I tried to shake off the thought of small creeping creatures.

He dumped his load on the ground in a corner and locked that commanding gaze upon me.

"When I leave, lock the door. Do not open it until I tell you to."

With the lodge surrounded by drooling traders, no problem. I nodded.

I was safer in here with one dangerous Shifter on the verge of explosion than trying to find my way alone in the wilderness.

There would be words, possibly blood-soaked earth, but no trader would touch my charge.

Brutus stood outside the door until he heard the scraping sound of Beauty sliding the two-byfour into place, barring the cabin from entry. At least she didn't argue. We could travel far.

To a safe place in The Wild. As long as she cooperated. Now, to ensure the lodge was safe. I

skirted the wooden structure's stacked tree-trunk form.

The mud packed between each unaltered log had yet to crack. Good. Nobody could peer into the building's interior from that angle. And bother Beauty. Nor could anyone access the interior through a secret underground passageway or backdoor. The two windows were small and high. With the traders on high alert, most likely their concern about a Shifter was for their survival and not in what trade goods they could steal from a Shifter. Even a petite woman as beautiful as Lorelei. But nothing was ever for certain with Normals.

Something moved in the lodge's clear glass window.

Although branches reflected on the slick surface, Beauty's face clearly stood out.

Watching me.

Play, Wolf yipped and bounced.

Way too playfully just at the sight of the Normal female. A night alone with her damnably soft skin and tempting curves would be pure torture with Wolf on the prowl.

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sanity. Not one place on the dusty earthen floor wasn't covered with a tracked print from his combat boots. Then, he began tapping the walls. Everything would have been fine if I could have just watched his long formidable body maneuver around the room in normal activity. No,

I had to fall into the clutches of the mad Shifter. Gorgeous to boot. The insane gorgeous

Shifter who despised Normals. Me.

He turned his unyielding gaze, locking onto mine.

Hell. I blinked my eyes in a feeble attempt to switch my focus from him to the window about armpit-high in the wall.

Why was I watching this man? Like he wouldn't know. That all-knowing stare reflected his omniscient awareness. He knew I'd been ogling his body.

A lump rammed into my throat.

Probably just my heart that had jumped for the clouds when he turned. But he didn't say anything. No. He leaned his shaved head backward to stare at the black pockets of shadow hugging the ceiling like gloomy clouds.

What would it matter if I questioned his actions? He owed me an answer. Something to keep me calm. “I don't mean to be rude or argumentative, Brutus. But what are you doing?"

He snapped those brown eyes back my direction and reached that strong palm of his toward a beam about five feet off the ground. “Checking for traps, trap doors, anything that most people don't look for, but something the traders might use to catch a slave or two.” He ran his fingertips along the horizontal crease between the two logs, studying their progress. “And something traders might use to capture a Shifter and his mate."

Oh. Stupid me.

My heart sank instead into a pit of sucking quicksand.

"I'm sorry. I hadn't thought of those things."

"Shifters do.” He kept to his work.

Ignoring my stupidity. Maybe that was a good thing. Because the last thing I needed was a man tagging me as ignorant and abandoning me out here. Especially the only man I could trust at the moment. Shifter who hates Normals or not, he seemed intent on protecting me.

"Do you expect the traders to try anything?"

"Can't tell.” He moved to the higher seam between the next two logs without glancing my direction. “Something's got them worried.” He brushed his palm along the curved surface the way he checked his stallion's legs at the earlier water break.

The way a man touched a woman.

The way women spoke of Shifters. Males who treated a mate like a goddess. Like his most prized possession. Not many of Yale's men took the same care with a woman as Brutus did assessing the lodge. But when Yale's men shoved a female servant down across a piece of furniture, they were often too engrossed to take much time to test every surface and angle before finishing their task. Unlike Brutus. How would life mated to a Shifter be?

He took two steps back from the walls and scanned everything again.

I had to look extremely useless. Ignorant and useless. What lovely labels. “How can I help?"

He turned, planting his hands on his hips.

Strong hands. Why was I thinking about his damned hands? I flicked my gaze back to his steady look of indifference.

Just don't look away. Don't look weak.

"Stay here. When I'm out, the door remains locked.” His legs snapped toward me, his black boots eating up the space between us.

So quickly.

My heart stammered.

What did he want?

He stopped a step away at my side and dug inside the placket of his shirt.

The faded green-and-brown camouflage was too close. Still smelled of the smoke in his shirt.

The shirt I hugged so long today. God. He was close. If only I could run. Or just walk away.

But there was nowhere for a woman like me to go. Out here.

He yanked out a small drawstring bag, loosened the cinched end, and handed the bag to me.

What did the leather contain? Take it or ask questions?

He grabbed my hand with strong determined fingers, turned it over, and placed the bag in my palm. “Eat. Stay here."

Food. My insensitivity couldn't be anything but insulting.

He thrust a pistol into my other hand.

No. I couldn't. I hate firearms.

"Keep this in your hand until I return,” he commanded.

Not a gun. I could use one. Seen many a fool shot in my days with Yale. But when the rifle exploded in that man's face, no, I just couldn't. I met that impenetrable brown gaze and waited for something to soften.

Anything to just give me a chance to refuse. To pity me. How could I pull the trigger?

"Keep it close,” his voice elevated.