Hour of the Lion, Cherise Sinclair [good story books to read TXT] 📗

a field dressing on you. But when undercover, she handled her own injuries. Funny how she‘d gotten so used to the protocol: If you"re caught, you"re on your own. We won"t know you. No rescue, no aid.

Alec grinned at her. 'Want me to kiss it and make it better?'

She snorted. But as she looked at them and saw the very real concern in their faces, something seemed to snap inside her. As a child, she‘d heard that if she swallowed a watermelon seed, one would grow in her stomach. She‘d spent a week, patting her belly, waiting…for nothing.

But now, looking at Alec and Calum, she could feel something deep inside start to unfurl and grow.

*

The rain had stopped, and the crescent moon rode the clouds like an ancient drawing of Herne, the horned god of the hunt. Cold air flowing down the mountain slopes into town brought the scent of snow, of pine trees, of tiny damp glades and the deer that stepped silently through them.

But tonight Alec felt no hunger to run the wild. Tonight, his hunger was for the young female quietly walking beside him. A female both beautiful and deadly.

During the fight in the Wild Hunt, he‘d been terrified for her. Worse, he‘d almost lost control and shifted, something he hadn‘t done since a teenager. He glanced down at his small companion and shook his head. His fear for her had been sadly misplaced; he should have worried for her opponents.

When Thorson had kicked at her, Vicki had actually grinned, her delight obvious. He‘d been shocked—hell, he was still shocked. Female shifters fought only for home or family and went straight for the throat or belly every time.

What kind of female enjoyed brawling? And got herself in a deadly fight and still pulled her punches. Even as he‘d shoved his way through the customers to her, he‘d seen how she‘d moved her target to a jaw rather than the thorax and then softened a kick. She could have killed either of them.

Alec grinned. Once he sobered up, Thorson, with his years of brawling, would know that too. Wouldn‘t that pull the old werecat‘s tail?

When they reached the corner of Cumberland Street, Vicki looked up at him, her eyes a golden-brown in the moonlight. Would they brighten even further with passion? 'You really don‘t have to walk me home,' she protested again. 'I‘m fine. Shouldn‘t you head for the jail to take care of those men?'

'I‘m in no particular hurry.' Alec stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep them out of trouble. 'They‘ll be more polite after the alcohol has worn off.'

Muttering, 'I doubt it,' she started down the sidewalk. A breeze ruffled her hair as fallen leaves whispered across the pavement in an autumn song. 'Alec?'

'Um-hmmm?' Her skin was a flawless ivory in the pale light of the moon, and the need to touch was almost unendurable.

'Why did those two men want to kill me? I‘ve never seen them before.'

Oh, this wasn‘t right—beautiful, deadly, and smart too? The Mother had been very generous with Her gifts. 'Well, now, seems like they‘d just had too much to drink. You‘ve seen bar fights before.'

'Alec, you‘re blowing smoke up—um, you know full well that wasn‘t a normal bar fight. I didn‘t do anything to get them upset, and neither did the three college girls.' A frown line appeared between her pretty arching brows, made him want to rub it away.

'You really shouldn‘t worry—'

'The only time I‘ve seen anything like that was when a bunch of White Pride guys started a fight with a black soldier. They wanted to kill him.'

This was too close for comfort. 'What happened? Did they succeed?'

'Against a Marine? Get real.' Her husky laugh was as compelling as a gurgling spring on a dry day. 'But Alec, those men tonight had the same look. Hatred, but not for what I did, but because of something I represent. Something...hmmm.' Her voice trailed off.

'What?' Worry crawled up his spine like a line of ants, and then he relaxed. She couldn‘t possibly know anything about Daonain. 'So, where did you learn to fight like that?' he asked.

Time to yank back control of this conversation.

'Oh, my daddy insisted his little girl be able to protect herself, especially since we traveled so much.' The fact she let him change the subject was a tad worrying. Like watching an alley cat deliberately letting a mouse go. What did she know?

She resumed walking. 'I‘ve had years of karate lessons.'

He could smell the scent of honesty, or rather the lack of nervousness indicating a lie. But she was, perhaps, not telling all the truth. She was obviously accustomed to full-out fighting. He scowled and bit back the need to push harder. It had been a long evening, and even if she‘d enjoyed the fight, she‘d collected a few knocks. But tomorrow, all bets were off.

They walked up to the house and stopped at the porch steps.

'Thanks for the company,' she said.

'The pleasure was mine.' He gave in to the urge and ran his hand over her skin—every bit as velvety as it looked. When he threaded his fingers in her long silky hair, her breathing picked up.

'Do you want to come in?' she asked.

Yes. 'No.' Somehow he managed the lie with a straight face. A noise made him look up to see a sprite, awakened by their conversation, scowl down from the tree. 'No, Vixen. If I come in, we‘ll be indulging in some serious physical activity, and I think you‘re a tad bruised for that.'

Her mouth dropped open.

He stepped closer, bathed himself in her feminine fragrance and the growing scent of arousal, his and hers. How could she have the smell of a human…yet almost like a shifter? What strange chemistry produced that?

Once more, he drew his fingers across her uninjured cheek and down, feeling the hammer of her pulse in her neck. His control slipped. He curved his arm around her firm waist and pulled her close enough to