Scent of Salvation (Chronicles of Eorthe #1) (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

The next morning, Sorin helped Rein walk from the sick bed to the main den corridor for some fresh air. His childhood friend had seemed on the verge of death two days ago, but last night’s fresh batch of flower medicine in combination with Susan’s penicillin seemed to have finally taken effect.

Sorin’s spirit soared. The scent of joy had never been so thick in his home. Even though they still served the weak penicillin broth, many seemed better at dawn.

Susan thought it was due to their naïve bodies, something about them never taking these types of medicine before so they didn’t need the usual dose for it to work. His pack was also strong. Either way, the why of their quick recovery didn’t matter—they would survive.

Upon arrival outside, he scanned the area, but she wasn’t around. He settled his pack mate on a chair next to others who wished to make the short journey by the cave’s entrance. Taking Rein’s head in his hand, Sorin gazed at his face. “It’s so good to see your ugly muzzle awake.”

“I’m too feral to die.” The male wiped a thin sheen of sweat from his forehead with a pale hand.

Sorin’s hunting instincts tingled. Something he wanted was close. He rose and searched the area again. At the end of the corridor Susan leaned against the canyon wall. Even from this distance he could see the dark circles under her eyes.

Marin, a female of his den, approached Susan with a change of clothes then pointed toward the back of the canyon where a hot spring bubbled to the surface.

“If you keep grinding your teeth like that you’ll snap a canine.” Rein followed the path of his gaze. “Is that the human?”

“Yes.” Sorin should have given her the clothes and shown her the spring before now so she could bathe. “I’m going to make sure she finds her way. She doesn’t see well in the dark.”

“Yeah, you should do that.” His friend winked and leaned back into the chair with a wolfish grin. “If you don’t then I will.”

Sorin snorted. “You can barely walk.”

“Females love a male in need. Maybe I can convince her to bathe me.”

The snarl was on Sorin’s lips before Rein finished speaking. “Stay away from her.”

Rein’s grin grew wider as he leaned toward Sorin. “Then go claim her, dumb mutt.”

Jerking away from his friend, Sorin glanced at the empty space where Susan had stood. If he rushed to the springs, he’d appear desperate. Bad enough Rein guessed of his longings. Soon the whole pack would know he wanted Susan. Who knew what trouble that would stir? But there was no doubt of his desire, not after seeing her contemplate crossing the Gate. His heart had stopped when he realized he was about to lose her forever and had never told her how he felt. She’d given him a second chance, and he wouldn’t waste it.

“I’ve already marked her.” Rein didn’t need to know the details of the deal he’d made with Susan or that the mark was only temporary. He turned and strolled to his room by the main gate.

Since the penicillin seemed to work, everyone helped with the sick today. They wouldn’t need him and Susan.

He grabbed a change of clothes and soap, then paused by a small, wooden box he kept by his bed. Dust covered the surface. He hadn’t opened it in years. An unseen hand gripped his chest. Sorin didn’t pursue females like his father. Duty held him steadfast. The pack didn’t need another alpha jumping from pallet to pallet seeking carnal pleasures from any willing or non-willing body.

The pack deserved a mated couple to lead them, but Sorin had never met a female who affected him like Susan did. He grabbed the box and hurried to the spring.

Inside the cave, at the farthest reaches of the canyon, warm water sprang from the ground. It filled a shallow pool of rock then drained into the mountain, and the warmth was a welcomed respite in the winter. His ancestors had bathed here for centuries. Gentle splashing greeted his ears.

Good, she was already in the water. It would make her escape more difficult. He shook his head. Not prey. This wasn’t a hunt but a seduction. He wanted to…persuade her. Maybe he should act like Rein. That male could coax a female out of her clothes with just a smile.

He ran his fingers through his hair and met a tangled mess. Striding into the cave, he swung his long muddle of knots over his shoulder.

Candlelight flickered over the water. Susan stood with her back to him, a golden glow shimmering on her skin.

His feet stopped as if rooted to the stone. The sight of her knocked the breath from his chest. When shifting, both males and females started off nude in civil form, and he’d seen his fair share of naked flesh. Yet none had ever made his knees weak. He wanted to crawl into the water and suck the drops collecting in the dimples over her ass.

She glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes widened. Gasping, she covered her breasts and plunged into the water so he could only see her head.

“I see you’ve found the hot spring.” He set his clothes on a natural shelf formed by the cave. “I had meant to show you earlier.” The clasp on his kilt caught as he undid it. He gave it a harder tug.

“What are you doing?”

The mangy clasp was stuck on the leather. “I’m going to wash.” He used his fingertips to unhook the edges of the material, muttering under his breath about fate getting a laugh at him. With a sharp yank, the kilt tore loose and dropped to the floor.

She retreated, her eyes focused on the wall behind him as if doing her best not to look at him. “With me?”

“Uhh…” He stepped into the water and cleared his throat. “Yes. Is that—wrong?” As a pack they all shared the spring to wash. She seemed very uncomfortable with the idea. What must she be thinking? He covered his cock and resisted the urge to smack himself. He kept treating her like a shifter. “I’ll wait until you’re done.” Even when he tried his best, he still drove her away.

“Does the pack bathe together?”

He returned to his kilt. “Yes.” The heat of humiliation blistered his skin. Her poor eyesight was a blessing; she wouldn’t see the blush spreading across his body.

“Don’t go then. I’m sorry, I’ve made things awkward. I tend to wash alone.”

“No, I won’t force—I mean—I’ll go check on dinner.” He tried dressing but he broke the clasp on his kilt. He reached for the clean one.

“If I’m going to live here, I’ll have to get use to your customs. I’d rather the first time I share a bath be with someone I’m comfortable with.”

He stared at the wooden box on the shelf by his clothes and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Please?”

Once again, he dropped the kilt and faced her. With the soap in hand, he dove into the shallow pool. When he broke the surface, he whipped his head around and shook off the excess water. He could sense Susan’s stare caressing his body, could smell her interest even through the water.

How did a hunter catch his prey without terrifying it?

He scrubbed the soap over his skin, working it into lather. Glancing at Susan, he noticed her eyes following the motion of his hands. “You didn’t cross through the Gate.”

“No” Her voice was faint, almost wistful.

Slowing his strokes, he moved the soap to his chest. In easy, circular motions, he guided her gaze. She burned his flesh with her desire. Three long steps and she’d be in his arms. He could quench his long celibacy with her willing body.

Shifting the motion, he washed his torso. Lower and lower. He smiled a little. The gesture still felt unfamiliar on his face. She inspired such pleasant stirrings in his heart—and his groin. The more she gave him, the more he wanted.

If she left, how would he survive? Who would make him—happy?

He washed below his navel, the water lapping at his knuckles. “I’m happy you stayed.” If she looked below the water, she’d see how much.

She blinked and tore her gaze from him. A rosy blush spread over her face.

Had he gone too far? She reminded him of a doe on the edge of a cliff. If he startled her, she’d fall from his grasp.

“Would you like the soap?”

“I already washed.”

Fiddling with the small clump in his hands, he searched the shore for something to relieve the tension strangling the air. The wooden box caught his gaze. “I have a present for you.”

“You do?”

He strode from the pool and set the soap on the shelf, then returned with the box.

She pulled her long hair over her shoulders. As she stood it cascaded over her breasts, acting as cover.

His cock swelled. If she only knew the truth about how the long, brown strands only accentuated the lush curves and played havoc on a male’s imagination.

The pounding of Susan’s heart filled her ears as Sorin’s gaze traveled along her body. He was just here for a bath.

Just a bath.

Reading into things, like his roaming eyes, would only lead to more misunderstandings between them, but all her fantasies came true when he had walked into the cave and dropped his leather kilt.

To her horror, she’d acted like a fifteen-year-old virgin. Where was the do-over button?

She accepted the box and opened it. Her jaw unhinged. With a tender stroke, she grazed the surface of his gift. “It’s beautiful.”

“It belonged to my mother.”

She shot him a look. “I can’t accept this.” An intricately carved, ivory comb sat lovingly upon a scrap of silk. Flowers dotted the spine and a vine traveled over the surface in swirls. The deep cuts had browned with age. “It’s too valuable, Sorin.”

He smiled. The same earth-shattering smile he’d given her the night in the kitchen, when he’d kissed her. “It’s the most valuable thing I own. My father carved it from bone for her as a mating present. It’s the only good thing he ever did. She cherished it.” He took the comb and tossed the empty box onto the shore.

Large muscles slipped under his skin as he moved with an unnatural grace. He slid behind her, like a predator circling his prey.

Her breath caught in her throat as she struggled to follow Sorin’s movements. The current of the water brushed her over-sensitive skin. “The hot spring is a nice asset for your den.” She didn’t know what to do with her freaking hands. Normally she’d stick them in her pockets. “Must be great to soak in during the winter months.”

He ran the comb through her hair, sending a shiver along her neck, over her shoulders then down her arms. She wanted to spin around and press her body against his but for all she knew this was pack etiquette—a grooming exercise. “I’ve been meaning to ask about Apisi history.”

“Hmm…” He swept all her hair off her shoulders.

Swallowing her gasp, she resisted the urge to cover her exposed, hard nipples. Come on, she’d been naked in front of men. Not many, and none anywhere near as sexy as Sorin. As alpha, he must have bedded all the single females in his pack. Some of them were drop-dead gorgeous.

“You’re very tense. Do you want me to stop?”

“N-no.” She ran her tongue over her teeth, searching for a drop of moisture. “How many other packs are there?”

“In this forest? A total of six packs make our tribe.”

“And there are other tribes?”

“Yes, all of them are west of here.” The tips of his fingers brushed the skin along her spine.

She jumped as if branded. “Sorry.” Stepping closer to him, Susan silently encouraged him to continue. Damn, she sucked at flirting. Either she read too much into a man’s actions or not enough.

Taking a deep breath, she turned and faced him. “Do you have a girlfriend—uh—a mate?” Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. She gathered all her courage to meet his gaze and not duck under the water to cover her bare breasts.

“If I did, I’d be a poor mate by combing your hair.”

“I thought bathing together was normal.”

“Yes, but grooming is more…more intimate.” He gave her a shy smile, a blush blooming on his cheeks. “That means no, I’m not attached to anyone.” His gaze traveled lower along her exposed flesh with appreciation. “If anything, according to that mark on your wrist, I belong to you.”

Assaulted by a wave of dizziness, Susan drifted away from him. She’d been in the hot springs too long and needed to keep it together. He was telling her he wanted her, and she was going to pass out. “Good.” Their kiss really had meant something and wasn’t some spur of the moment excitement. Her stomach rolled with nausea. Throwing up would be bad. She exited the pool and dried off.

He followed. “Is it good?” The glow of the candlelight played over his wet, tanned skin. Not an ounce of fat showed on his masculine body.

“Yes.” Oh dear God, he’d been created for her. Right down to that delicious scar pulling on his bottom lip.

He placed the comb in her hand and folded her fingers over it.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Susan dressed in fresh, soft doeskin underwear and a dress with blue beading down the front. It clung to her hips as if made for her. She ran her hands over the fabric, enjoying the smooth feel under her palms. Slipping the comb in the front pocket, she glanced at Sorin.

He tugged an off-white, rough wool shirt over his head and flipped his wet hair back. “I’ll have to mark you again. The bath washed the other away.”