Rescued & Ravished: An Alpha's Conquest (A Paranormal Ménage Romance) (8 page)

“No. That’s only half of it.” His thumb moved along the curve of her ear, heat flushed beneath her skin. She couldn’t deny that his rough, calloused touch was stirring something inside her.

“There’s nothing I can do to you people,” she whispered. “Nothing! I just want to go home, that’s all I want. I’m starting a new job soon. People are going to worry, I have a life, I—”

“I believe you, Harper. I believe you about everything. But I can’t and I won’t let you go… not without the Alpha’s say-so.”

“The Alpha?” She’d heard them throw the word around and she’d never liked it. It frightened her. “Please tell me what… who… that is, Chance. Please.”

Saying his name did something to him, she could see in his face that it did. The gold in his eyes flashed and his hand tightened in her hair in a rough, delicious way.

“He’s our leader. The best and strongest man we have. Every clan has an Alpha.”

“But who is he?” Her scalp was tingling with pleasure from the grip of his hand in her hair. There was a heat growing between her legs, too, contrasting obscenely with the sharp, cold fear she felt. “Have I seen him? Will I? I could beg him to let me go. I
will
beg him to let me go.”

“You haven’t seen him, but you might. His name is Jason.” His hand tightened in her hair even more and she loved it. “His heart’s not made of stone, Harper. Just be honest with him if you see him. Tell him what you’ve told me and what you’ve told Ivy, and he’ll let you off. He’s like a father to me, he’s a good man. He’d see the innocence in you, I’d stake my claim on it.”

“I want to go home,” she breathed, her panties slick from the smell of him, from the warmth of his body heat, from the feeling of his fist in her hair.
This is not the time. This is
not
the time. What is wrong with me?
“I swear that’s all I want.”

“I know.” Abruptly, he swallowed, let go of her, and sat back. She had the sudden wild urge to crawl into his lap and straddle him. “Get off the floor, honey. You don’t have to humble yourself for me.”

Except some part of me wants to.
Now that she was down there, level with his knees, filthy, explicit fantasies were lighting up her brain. Delicious, trashy, completely inappropriate fantasies. Having this skinchanger’s fat cock in her mouth, for example—

Stop that! This man is keeping you locked in a shed!

She stood and hupped herself back onto the worktable, watching him. He stared back at her, his eyes bright, his jaw tense. She got the feeling that he was exercising self-control.

“Who are you, Chance?” she asked, clutching the splintery edge of the table. “I mean—who
are
you?”

“Chance MacFadden.”

“Yeah, of course, but what’s your story?” She could hear the chickens arguing outside, their hiccupy voices filling the yard. “I want to know. Please?”

He barked a laugh, short and loud. “What’s
your
story, Harper? Who are
you
?”

“Nobody. Just a girl. I work in wealth management at a trust. I like to eat pasta and I like to hike.” She laughed humorlessly.
It’s fucking hiking that got me into this.
“I’m just… average. Normal. Except for the fact that I happen to be in this thousand-percent not
normal situation right now.”

He half-smiled, and for a second her stomach broke with gravity. “Yeah? Well, hell, I’m normal too, by my lights. By the clan’s lights. So what’s ‘normal’ worth?”

“So what
is
normal for a clan? Tell me that,” she asked him, rubbing her temple. She could smell sunshine heating the raw, weathered wood of the toolshed and longed to be outside, running for her life until she hit the border.
“Officer, let me back into the States, stat! Bear people are after me and they’re gonna rip me apart like a mouse full of catnip! USA! USA! USA!”

His smile broadened, but he didn’t answer. She’d pushed her luck far enough for now.

Unless I can charm him more.
He was vulnerable to her somehow; she could see it and she could sense it. And if she was completely honest with herself, she was vulnerable to him, too. Why else would she feel like she could actually talk to him? And why else would the gusset of her underwear be wet just from kneeling next to him? Another indecent, imagined flash of her tongue on his thick, commanding cock made her bite her lip.

“Why do you people live out here? Because you like the range?”

“We’ve been here for generations. There’s privacy. And other things we need.”

She made a face, she couldn’t help it. “Oh, God. ‘Things we need.’ Does that mean you… go hunting? As, like, animals?”

He laughed for real; she loved the sound, despite everything.
I haven’t seen a man this beautiful in… well, in ever. Logan wasn’t anything compared to this.
“There’s nothing wrong with a mouth full of marmot, Harper. Yeah, we hunt like animals when the need’s on us. But you saw Gentian’s garden for yourself—most of what we eat, we grow. There’s space and soil here for that. And no humans around to see us do any of it.”

A strange thought occurred to her. “Are you people… afraid of us?”

“Suspicious is a better word.” He shifted in the chair; a chink of sunlight coming through the door-joint lit up his broad, powerful shoulder. “It’s you people who are afraid of us. Powerful afraid. Afraid enough to kill us when you find us.”

“Is that what Hunters are?” she asked quietly, piecing his world together in her mind. “People who… who look for you and—”

“Yeah. People who search us out to put us down.”

“Oh.” She wasn’t sure if that was terrible or justified. People who could turn into wild animals—who were capable of locking her up and maybe murdering her—might deserve to be extirpated.

“You can see why we take your being here seriously, Harper. Can’t you?” He leaned forward and his scent—flannel, heat, skin—strengthened headily. She breathed in deeply. “Hunters are killers. The elders have lived through more than one raid and they never want to see it happen again.”

“I don’t… I don’t have any weapons,” Harper managed, frowning. She squeezed her thighs together, drunk on the smell of him. “How could I hurt anyone? I don’t even know self-defense.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have admitted that. Shit, though, he smells amazing.

“No? Hud said you came at him with that axe pretty fierce.” Chance grinned.

“I just grabbed it off a woodpile! It wasn’t mine! I didn’t even know how to use it! I don’t know anything about fighting.

“I said I believed you, Harp, and I do! You don’t have to argue your case with me. I know you’re just an innocent girl. I know it.” He sounded so, so certain. She was afraid to ask him why he was so certain, in case that made him rethink it. “Just have faith we’ll sort this out.”

“Why should I?” she whispered, afraid he could smell her arousal and her fear. Couldn’t animals smell both of those things? —Or was that a myth? “You’re monsters.”

She knew it was the wrong thing to say; his face closed and he crossed his arms. “We’re not. We just are what we are. Try and believe we can sort this, girl.”

“That old man. Galangal. He hates me.”

“Maybe.” He didn’t lie to her. “But it’s just on principle. It’s got nothing to do with you personally. You understand me?”

“That doesn’t help much.”

He sighed. “Settle down.” There was a pause. “Trust me, Harper. I’m not a monster, and I’m not your enemy. I’ll get you home. I promise.”

She gazed at him, wanting to believe him but knowing that would be foolish. So she didn’t say anything. And she squeezed her thighs tighter together.

She was a lovely thing. Finally, a nap had taken her, and she was curled up on the worktable like a tabby cat, asleep.

He wanted to touch her like nobody’s business. Even through the anaphrodisiac, the sweet urgency of the Season was pushing him to put his hands on her. He could get lost in all those curves, in all that soft, pale skin, especially the soft, pale skin of her inner thighs.

Maddeningly, his cock hardened. The peachy smell of her was too much. The image of squeezing her bare breasts with his hands was too much. The idea of taking her,
mating
with her was too much.

Her eyes opened suddenly, and she sat up.

“Harper?” he asked, swallowing. He tried to will himself soft, glad he was sitting half in shadow.

She blinked at him, guileless. “I need to pee.”

He wasn’t a sadist. He would take her to the outhouse.

Cautiously, slowly, he unlocked the shed door, gripping her arm hard so she couldn’t escape. The warmth of her skin bled through her jacket and heated his palm—and his manhood.

“Stick close. Don’t try to throw off my hand.”

“I won’t.”

It was sunny out; the pines were whispering in the mountain breeze. He towed her across the yard toward the outhouse.

“Are you planning on coming in with me?” she asked dryly.

“Depends,” he grunted. But when they got there, he let her go in alone. “Don’t be long and don’t think you can get away.”

“I won’t and I don’t,” she said seriously before banging the door closed. He stood there awkwardly, leaning on an old disused fence post. Chickens wandered around the yard, clucking near his feet, while butterflies beat colorfully over the garden.
How long is she going to be?

As he waited, Gentian came out of the back of the cabin, looking determined.

“Chance!” she called.

“Gentian?” he asked, surprised. “Where’s, uh… where’s Egan?”

“I left him in our room,” she said smartly. “Season or no Season, that poor girl has got to eat, and I’ve made her lunch.” She breathed deeply, obviously readying herself to say something. “It’s set out on the table.”

“The table? Oh, Gentian…” His expression twisted. “That means… you want me to bring her inside?”

“Yes.”

“That’s against the Alpha’s orders.”

Gentian hesitated.

“Well, Chance,” she said finally, slowly, “I won’t tell him if you won’t. The girl needs a hot lunch. A hot lunch under a real roof,” she added.

He couldn’t exactly argue with that. There was no one there but himself, Gentian, and the girl, a girl he was sure was innocent. Keeping her locked in the shed after all his maplecream-sweet dreams about her seemed so absurd it made him sick.

“Please, Chance,” Gentian said quietly. “Treat her better than dirt. She’s sweet and she’s scared and she deserves to be fed like a human being—not in a shed in the dust and the dark. You know she’s no danger to us. Let her come in and sit a spell!”

He sighed; she knew how to guilt him, and it was working. If it had been any other captive, any other girl, but it wasn’t, it was Harper, and he wanted Harper to be comfortable. The clan’s suspicions would just have to be damned. He knew they didn’t amount to anything anyway.

“Alright,” he said resignedly. “Let’s go in.”

“Go in where?” Harper asked, opening the outhouse door.

“Inside the house,” Chance said shortly, gripping her wrist. “It’s your lunchtime, honey.”

“Here, dear. Lunch.” It was a chicken salad, made with garden greens and sliced-up, hardboiled eggs.

“Thank you,” Harper said, grateful for the spread. “Oh—aren’t you eating?”

“No, dear,” said Gentian, with a smile that was almost girlish. “It’s our Season. I’m going back to my room and my mate now.”

“Season?” Harper repeated, her eyes widening, but Gentian was already leaving, patting Harper’s shoulder as she went.

“Mating season,” Chance said shortly, once they were alone. “She means it’s mating season.”

“Are you serious?”

“Damn serious.” He turned his bright, uncanny gaze to her. “It’s springtime, ain’t it?”

“You
are
serious,” she said faintly. “Wow.”

“Wow,” he repeated, slightly teasingly.

What
was
it about him? She couldn’t take her eyes off of him, it was like he was her magnetic north, drawing her eyes like a compass’s point. He was a gorgeous, gorgeous man. But he was an animal.

Her hand tightened on the lunch knife, part of her wishing it was sharp enough to use on him. Then maybe she could make a break for…

No. She already knew how that would turn out: not well. It was just an escape fantasy. Besides, she wasn’t honestly sure she could hurt this man—for any reason. He was handsome and reassuring and he felt like someone she had known for a long time.

“Eat up.” Chance glanced at her untouched meal.

“You’re not going to eat yours?” she flicked her eyes down toward his loaded plate.

“I might.”
Noncommital.

“It looks really good.” She forked in some chicken. “Mm-mm. Best food ever. Definitely the best bear-made food I’ve ever had!”

He rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, other bears don’t know how to make it like this. I had some chicken salad in Yellowstone once that was completely inferior. Those morons don’t know anything about true bear cuisine, you dig? I think they’re getting lazy from eating all that tourist trash.”

“Just eat your lunch, girl.” But he cracked a smile.

“Okay. Touchy. That’s fine.”

She put it away at top speed, polishing off her chicken salad and glass of milk in record time.

“Oh, I inspired you, huh?” she asked when he finally lifted a fork. “Good. ‘Course, I’m done now, but I can wait for you.”

“You sure can, hon.”

She turned her cup around, watching sunlight cut through the glass while he ate. They didn’t speak. Eventually, she couldn’t keep quiet anymore.

“Why are you disobeying your Alpha for me?” she asked, sitting up and gazing at him. Trying to figure him out was a challenge, more so than it had ever been with Logan. “Why did you let me come inside?”

“You deserve to eat.”

“I could have eaten in the shed.”

He hesitated. “You’re not a dog. You deserve a table.”

That touched her in a strange way. “Well, thank you.”

He sighed, looking at her. She’d never been looked at that way. She wasn’t even sure what way it was.

“What?” she asked, very conscious of his eyes on her.

“D’you wanna walk off lunch?”

“What?” she asked again, blankly. “Isn’t it against your orders to—”