Bound By Desire (The Acadian Curse) (2 page)

“I don’t need the reminder, I assure you.” It
seemed that he was none to pleased with her on any level,
professionally or personally. "This just needs to be done before
the sun goes down.”

"Or what? You’ll miss the first couple
innings of the game? You'll live," she said. “Besides, I’m afraid I
can’t do this without you.”

His head snapped up, looking into Sarah's
eyes for the first time. Despite her current low opinion of him,
she felt a little flutter take root deep in her belly. He might
have a few things to learn about gentlemanly behavior, but Grant
LaCroix certainly wasn’t hard to look at.

“I can’t stay.” His voice was hard, but
shaky.

“I’m going to have to pull the foal out, and
I can’t do that with her kicking at me. You seem to be the only one
that can settle her down.”

Sarah uttered a silent prayer as Grant drew
in a deep breath and slowly let it out. His hands trembled a little
against the mare's sable hair as he petted her.

Was he squeamish? Was that what all of this
was about? He sure didn’t look the type. Tall and broad in the
shoulders, he looked like he could take on anything that life threw
at him. Then again, she knew better than to judge nerves by
appearance. She’d seen more than one arrogant frat boy pass out at
the first sight of blood. Of course, Grant LaCroix could never be
confused for a kid.

"You have me until the sun reaches the
horizon.” He whispered the words gently to the mare. Then he looked
up at Sarah. “I can’t promise you any more.”

“We’ll just have to see if it’s enough.”

He stared at her, a strange intensity
building in his eyes. At first Sarah thought that she might have
offended him, but the look wasn’t it. There wasn’t any hurt or
anger in his gaze, just something that bordered on hunger.

It looked like a barely contained craving
that was focused solely on her.

The mare screamed again, and Sarah snapped
back to herself in a hurry. She was here to help an animal in
danger, not indulge in whatever wild fantasies her sex-starved
libido had decided to invent.

Sarah wrapped her hands around the foal’s
hooves and gently pulled down as the mare’s muscles tensed. The
foal slipped out a little further. On the next contraction she
pulled again and was rewarded with another few inches of movement.
The hips were nearly out. Once that happened, the mare wouldn't
have to fight. Nature would take over. She just needed a few more
minutes.

Sarah glanced up at Grant. Beads of sweat had
begun to show on his brow, and it wasn’t because the stables were
overly hot.

"We're almost there,” she said, hoping to
reassure him. "You can do this. Just breathe."

He glanced up at the window. There was hardly
any natural light coming through them now. There was only the harsh
flicker of the fluorescents out in the hallway lit the room.

"I have to go," Grant said. His voice was so
deep and low that she could barely make out his words.

"Another few minutes and we're done," Sarah
said.

The sweat increased on his brow. His hands
were openly shaking now. He groaned loudly. Perhaps she had
overestimated the man's intestinal fortitude. Well, she didn't have
time for wounded pride, and his mare certainly couldn't survive
it.

"I've seen people become sick at less," Sarah
said. "It doesn't bother me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of."

He shot her a glare. Ok, maybe it wasn’t his
stomach. But there was something wrong with him, and she could only
deal with one patient at a time.

He stood suddenly. The mare lifted her head,
the fear returning to her eyes. Her legs thrashed out again, and
Sarah had to shuffle back to avoid them.

"I have to
—
"

"Go. I know," Sarah shouted, her patience
finally breaking. If he wouldn’t take her reassurance, her only
hope was to go after his sense of shame. No doubt he would hate
her. Why that should matter to her, she wasn’t sure. "If you leave
now, your mare will panic, and I won’t be able to help either of
them. She will die and so will her foal. That will be on your head,
Mr. LaCroix not mine." She couldn’t put it any plainer.

She stared up at him. Maybe it was her angle
from down on the floor, but he looked bigger—taller, maybe, but
mostly just more massive. Still, she wasn’t about to let his size
intimidate her. She kept her eyes firmly on him as she waited for
his answer. It was his move now, and she wasn’t going to make this
any easier on him.

He stared right back at her, his jaw line so
tight Sarah feared he might shatter some teeth. A few seconds of
tense silence passed as they stared each other down. Just as she
was about to give up on him, his fist shot out and landed on the
solid pine beam at his side. Sarah could have sworn that she heard
the crackle of splintering wood.

"Damn it," he muttered. "I'll stay, but you
have to promise me something."

“All right.” At this point she’d swear to
anything if it meant seeing this foal safely born.

"Promise me that the second this is done that
you will strap me to the wall of the last stall," he said.

Sarah didn't bother to mask her shock.

"Promise me or I’ll leave now, " he
repeated.

Was he joking? Crazy? Either way it didn't
matter. Sarah needed him. She would deal with his demand when the
time came.

"Whatever floats your boat," she said. Though
she had to admit that she hadn’t pegged him for the submissive
type. The man exuded dominance. But what did she really know about
these things? She’d had a few kinky fantasies, sure, but she’d
never pursued any of them. It just had never felt right.

If his pride was injured by her little joke,
he didn’t show it. He returned to the mare’s head, and the horse
settled instantly. There was no denying that he was almost magic
with animals.

A few minutes passed without any words
between them. The mare pushed, and Sarah pulled. Inch by inch the
foal made his way out and into the world. Grant’s hands shook to
the point that he could no longer control them, and sweat covered
every exposed part of his body.

"I have to go,” he said, but stayed put.

Sarah could see the ridge of the foal’s
hipbone making it’s way out. They were so close. "Twenty more
seconds.”

"Now.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Sarah saw a
line of stitching on his shirt start to pop. She lifted her
head.

“What the hell?”

“Now,” he demanded. His voice was deeper,
much deeper than it had been before. She watched as his hands
stretched and grew on the mare’s mane. It had to be an illusion.
There was no way he could be growing larger before her eyes.

"Ten seconds," she said, her voice faint.

Ten. Nine. Eight.

“Come on now, little guy. I need you to come
out now. Right now,” she whispered to the foal.

For once, somebody up above must have been
listening to her. The foal’s hips popped free. After that the rest
of his body slid out easily.

"Now.”

Sarah nodded. "Now."

Grant flew up from floor. He was out the door
before she could blink.

Sarah stayed behind to see to her patients.
The mare nuzzled and licked her new baby, all of her struggles
forgotten. The foal tried out his shaky legs. It might have been
the strangest birth that she had ever been a part of, but it looked
like everyone involved had come out of it just fine.

Her relief was short-lived. A moment later,
Grant was storming back into the stall. He grasped onto her upper
arm and, with a grip as strong as iron, pulled her into the
hall.

“You promised me,” he growled.

A stream of nonsense sounds sputtered from
Sarah’s lips as he drug her across the hard floor. Finally, her
thoughts caught up with her mouth.

“I don’t want to have anything to do with
your sick games,” she protested. “Let me go.”

“I kept my word. I stayed and helped you. Now
you have to help me, Dr. McIntire, or terrible things are going to
happen.”

He whipped her around and into the last
stall. Sarah stumbled, barely regaining her footing before she
crashed into the far wall. Her hands grasped onto the heavy curtain
that hung from ceiling to floor. The fastenings gave way under her
weight revealing a pair of dark metal manacles dangling from chains
just above her head. She looked down and saw a matching pair at her
feet.

Sarah swiveled around, ready to tell him that
he could go to hell. The words lodged halfway up her throat.
Everything inside of her froze. All she could do was stare in
disbelief as the impossible unfolded before her eyes.

Grant LaCroix was changing into
someone…something else.

The angles of his face sharpened. His muscles
bulged and grew. His shoulders and hips widened, and his clothes
began to split under the strain.

He had one shoe off. He tried for a moment to
kick off the second, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Boot,” he barked at her, as he raced to the
wall. He wriggled his wrists into the massive iron bands. They
barely fit.

He continued to try to scrape his boots off
on the floor as she stared at him. His eyes met hers—the same
drop-dead gorgeous chocolate brown eyes that had floored her the
moment that she’d stepped out of the truck.

She might not have any idea what was going
on, but she did know that inside that creature was a person. A
creature who needed her help.

Sarah stripped off her gloves and grabbed
hold of his boot. She had to dig her heels into the floor to get
enough leverage to dislodge it. She wrenched the shackle up his
ankle, wincing as she felt it scrape against his raw skin.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hoping Grant could
still hear her.

His body went completely still under her
touch. A change came over the stall. The air felt heavier, thicker.
Sarah was suddenly very aware of her position lying prostrate at
his feet. She drew in a shaky breath, then another. Finally, she
gathered enough courage to look up.

A stranger’s face, hard and powerful, stared
down at her.

Sarah scooted backward as fast as she could.
Hay and dust flew out behind her. She didn't stop until her back
hit the hard wood of the stable door. She sucked in breaths in
giant gulps, so fast that they burned her lungs. The sound of her
blood rushing in her ears blocked out all other sounds as she
looked up at the monster that was before her.

No, monster wasn’t the right word. The thing
tied to wall with leather and metal was very much a man, just not
the one who she had put there. This one was a wall of muscle. His
chest and limbs had grown large enough to rip away the clothes that
had covered Grant. His face had changed as well, there was still
the same ruffled dark hair, the same stubble-line jaw but it too
had grown bigger and wider. Then there were those eyes—bright
green, the color of damn Irish grass, for God’s sake. She had never
seen those color eyes before, not on anyone or anything.

He stared at her long and hard. She knew the
look—focused, determined and hungry. So damn hungry. It was a
predator's gaze. She clenched her eyes shut and turned her head
away.

She knew she should get up. She should run
like hell to the truck. She should drive through the night until
she was back home, and never come back. With enough time, she might
be able to convince herself that none of this had happened—that it
had all been nothing more than a dream, a stress induced
delusion.

"You don't want to run.”

Sarah’s eyes popped open.

He could still talk. And he didn’t sound like
a monster. No snarling. No growling. Instead his voice was low and
confident. It rumbled with all the bass that she would expect of a
creature of his size, but behind it was a calm control that made
goose bumps run down her arms.

She lifted her head and dared another look.
The longer she looked the more her fear began to subside. Curiosity
took its place. What had happened to Grant? Was he still in there
somewhere? How had the transformation taken place? Would he change
back? Her mind swam with questions.

He was right. She didn’t want to run, not
really. She wanted answers. Besides, how dangerous could this thing
really be?

Exceedingly
, her better judgment
screamed at her.

Maybe, but he was restrained—chained to the
wall. She had looked after aggressive animals before. If he started
to get agitated, she had enough tranquilizers back in her bag to
put this whole stable under.

Sarah tried to stand but her legs wobbled
beneath her. Apparently there was still a good amount of adrenaline
rushing around in her system. She leaned against the wall for
support.

He smiled. The sight nearly knocked the
resolve right out her.

"I knew you didn’t want to leave," he said.
Smug satisfaction dripped from every word.

Sarah stared at him. "Grant?”

He shook his head, the only part of him not
tied up. “You don’t need to worry about Grant right now.”

Worry about me.
The threat hung in the
air.

Sarah never responded well to intimidation.
She risked a step away from the wall. Her knees still trembled, but
they held. She narrowed her eyes. “What the hell just
happened?”

“Come a little closer and I’ll tell you.”

A shiver ran from her crown all the way down
to the soles of her feet at his low tone. It was not a cold shiver
of warning that she would have understood. No, this was worse. This
was an electric surge that awoke every nerve in her body. She
wanted to step closer…but she didn’t. There was a name for
creatures that fell for the seductive ploys of predators.

Lunch.

“I can hear you well enough from over
here.”

“All right then,” he said, his voice dripping
with control. “Let me down from here and I’ll show you.”