He heard her coming. She knew he did, even though he had his back to her. She could see it in the way he tensed, the way his hand closed into one tight fist. “Why didn’t you come back?” she whispered.
Patiently, she waited for him to turn and face her. Rachel wanted to look into his eyes, needed to.
But he didn’t turn around. “I could not.”
“Why?” she asked baldly.
“I could not. I had to learn…” his voice trailed off and slowly, he turned.
All voices fell silent as he turned to look at her. Rachel flushed as she felt people watching them, but she didn’t care. She had to know why he hadn’t come back to her. His hand lifted, reaching up. She gasped as his flesh touched hers, the coolness of his flesh—the coolness of death. One roughened fingertip touched her neck and she swallowed as he felt the fluttering pulse there. “I could not,” he repeated, his eyes locked on the wildly beating pulse. “Not until I knew I could trust myself. You see, I am still a man. But now, I battle the hungers of a monster, Rachel. I had to wait until I knew you would be safe from those hungers.”
He wanted to touch her—touch her like he hadn’t been able to touch her in months. The silken feel of her skin under his fingers wasn’t enough. She smelled soft and sweet. The long, black sweep of her hair hung around her shoulders like a cloak—his hands itched to touch it, while at the same time, he wanted to hide her away so that none of the men there could see her. His Rachel. His woman. His wife—he hadn’t made love to her in months. Hadn’t spread her thighs and pushed inside her body…
Hot, blistering need tore through him and his fangs started to ache inside their sockets. Blood started to pound heavily. His cock throbbed and the longer he stared at Rachel, the more he hurt.
The pulse in her neck fluttered and her heartbeat sped up as their gazes locked.
They could have stood alone in the crowded room as she stared up at him. “Matthew?” she whispered.
Clenching his jaw, Matthew tortured himself a little more as he breathed in more of her warm scent. “I did come back, Rachel.”
Hunter's Pride
© Shiloh Walker
“Don’t be so
afraid. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Unable to
pretend it was just her imagination any more, Kennedy sat up
and turned to stare in the direction of the door. It was so
damned dark in there—she could barely make out the dark
shape standing in the shadows.
His eyes,
though…she could see his eyes, flashing at her in the dark.
Golden, glowing, eerie as hell—
“The cats
you’ve been looking for—why?”
Kennedy
blinked. She hadn’t said a damn thing to anybody.
How in the hell did he know?
“I…ah—I’m not
looking for any cats,” Kennedy said, and she cursed as she
heard how wobbly her voice was, how weak and pathetic she
sounded.
“Don’t give me
that. I saw you in the forest—I know you’ve been looking
for them. Why?”
Ooookay…
Kennedy licked her lips as she shifted on the bed. “Do you
mind turning on the light?”
“Yes.”
Narrowing her
eyes, she demanded, “Okay, how about telling me who in the
hell you are and how you got in here?”
“I picked the
lock.” She thought for a second she heard the slightest bit
of humor in that deep, grumbly voice. The sound of it made
shivers run up and down her spine, but she didn’t really
feel afraid. Not any more.
“And…?”
“And what?”
“Who in the
hell are you?” she snapped, exasperated. She sure as hell
couldn’t place that gruff voice and it was too damned dark
for her to see—although his eyes, they continued to gleam at
her.
Cat’s eyes…
“If I wanted to tell you who I was, I would have made an
appointment, sweetheart.”
Malachi
© Shiloh Walker
The woman came to
him like a whisper on the wind, moving on silent feet through
the trees. The wind blew long golden strands of air around her
narrow shoulders, across her face. She reached up and brushed a
strand out of her eyes, staring at the man sleeping under the
tree.
She had sad eyes
and as she studied him, her expression grew even more
despondent. “I am sorry.” She moved a little closer, kneeling
on the ground beside him. He did not move as she reached out
and touched a finger to his cheek. “I have been watching you.”
As she sighed, her
breasts rose and fell under the gleaming white of her gown.
“Part of me hoped that you would never come to me. Each time I
called, you turned it aside. Such a strong man.”
The deep red of his
hair seemed nearly black under the silvery light of the moon.
She had watched him, night after night, as he bedded the lady of
the house, and her instinctive fear had warred with curiousity.
How would that lovely hair feel wrapped around her hands? To
feel that powerful body moving over hers? He never once used a
cruel hand—she suspected even if he had not been bedding the
mistress, he still would have used such care.
This was not a
cruel man.
Did he enjoy making
his Mistress cry out in pleasure?
And she had also
watched him fight. Yes, she had been watching him for months
and months. Fear sometimes forced her to leave, but always, she
came back here. To watch him.
He was the one.
*please note, this isn't the story of Malachi
and his mate, but how he was Changed and how he came to be with
the Hunters.
