The Last of His Kind (2 page)

Another
agonized groan from the man at her feet galvanized her into action. She dropped
to her knees and yanked the dart out of his side. The animalistic roar in her
ears sent a shiver of anticipation into her core. Instant moisture soaked her
panties, and Penelope rolled her eyes at herself. This was ridiculous. The man
was clearly in pain, and here she was lusting after his body like a bitch in
heat. She tentatively touched his chest and reared back at the fierce heat she
encountered. He was burning up.

"Who did
this to you? Can you stand? We need to get you back to my place. I need to get
help." The breathy words tumbled out one after the other, and Penelope
shook the stranger's shoulders in an effort to rouse him. She brushed the silky
strands of his hair off his face and froze when he opened his eyes. Even clouded
with pain the golden eyes of her dream lover stared back at her. He mumbled
something in a guttural language she didn't understand, and he lifted one large
hand to touch her face. Penelope held her breath at the sensation of his
calloused palm cupping her cheek. Darts of electricity arched along her skin;
her mouth went dry, and her pussy clenched. He inhaled sharply and shook his
head.

"Nay, no
help. Just get me to the water."

What?
The fever had
clearly addled his brain, or maybe he was just like any other devastatingly
good looking guy. All brawn and no brain.

"You
can't go for a swim in this state. You'll drown. Besides the
Loch
is freezing this time of year. You'll die of frostbite before you have the
chance to drown. We need to get you to shelter, and you need a doctor to come
look at this wound."

"No
quack." The deep growl of denial made Penelope jump, and the grip on her
shoulder grew painful as he moved his hand to help him lever himself up.

"Fine,
have it your way, but you need to rest. And you can't do that here." He
groaned his assent, and a violent shudder shook his long frame. Penelope put an
arm around his waist, and together, somehow they struggled to their feet, with
the stranger leaning heavily on her. Penelope was not small, but he dwarfed her
completely. Heat rose in her cheeks at seeing his huge, long cock hang down
between his legs, and she hastily averted her eyes.

Jesus, what
is wrong with you? The man is hurt, and you ogle his appendage?

She forced
herself to look ahead instead. "My cottage is just round the corner. Let's
try to get you there."

He groaned a
pain filled acknowledgement, and after a small lifetime they finally reached
her front door. By the time he collapsed onto her well-worn settee, every
muscle in her body screamed its protest. Penelope threw the afghan over his
naked form and sank to the floor next to him, completely exhausted. Now what
was she going to do with her very own Adonis?

Chapter Two

Fiery waves
of pain coursed through his veins like liquid acid. The urge to shift consumed
him, to seek the oblivion of the cool depths of the
Loch
,
to leave this feeble body behind, but his muscles cramped and ceased to
function. The poison invaded his system like marauding hordes of ants, trapping
him inside the fragile human body he loathed, the air too thin to draw decent
breaths into his lungs. His long buried human side screamed and shook as the
fever raged within him, his arms wildly flailing, hands formed into claws,
connecting with soft flesh. A feminine voice sang an ancient lullaby, one he
hadn't heard in eons, the familiar Celtic words rolling somewhat awkwardly off
the female's tongue, strangely comforting. A slight weight rested on his
abdomen; cool hands brushed his sweat soaked hair off his face; blessed water
cooled him down and soothed beyond compare. His head was lifted, and he drank
the foul smelling brew thirstily, entranced by the soft voice urging him to
drink. Foul as the liquid was, it soothed his parched throat, and his quivering
muscles slowly unclenched. His body slipped into a heavy slumber, the urge to
shift passing with every slowing exhale, and his lips curved into the semblance
of a smile at the whisper of a kiss against his skin. The sweet essence of
lavender filled his nostrils and soothed his troubled soul.

****

When Doric
next woke up, the room was bathed in darkness, the flickers of the dying embers
in the fireplace the only illumination. The chill of evening was in the air,
bringing with it the promise of rain. He shifted slightly, careful to not
disturb the woman, who'd fallen asleep with her head resting on his groin. One
slender hand was still curled round the sponge she must have used to cool him
down with, the bowl of water abandoned on the floor. Caramel strands of her
hair had escaped her ponytail, and long eyelashes rested on delicate
cheekbones, her glasses slightly askew across her face. She
was
the
little girl he'd rescued all those years ago. It was beyond ironic that she now
would appeared to have rescued him right back, as though he was the proverbial,
fucking mermaid.

He ground his
teeth and willed his breathing to slow down, as adrenaline surged in his veins,
remembering his close call with the trackers. He'd been playing hide and seek
with them for days. Normally he'd simply have dived for cover and waited them
out – they all eventually gave up – but they circled too close to the old
cottage for his liking. She wasn't his responsibility, and he really shouldn't
care, but the age-old code of honor his kind lived by had him keep an eye on
her. These modern ways of letting women live by themselves made sating
his
needs easier, but every one of his instincts told him that the men in that
dinghy wouldn't care about a woman's pleasures. He at least left the women he
used well satisfied. He didn't usually interfere in human's business, but
she
was different. Just like she had done twenty-five years ago, the slender
woman sleeping peacefully against him hadn't told on him this time either. If
she had he'd have woken up in a hospital. That's if he would have woken up at
all. The nearest hospital placed him outside the curse's stipulated distance
from the
Loch
. He swallowed the roar
threatening to escape and winced at the pain in his hip, as he propped himself
up on his elbows better to study the human.

When the dart
had struck, he'd dived, his movements slower and slower, as his metabolism
changed the sedation to poison, forcing him into the human form. How he'd
managed to find himself on her stretch of shore, he would never know. That invisible
connection he'd felt to her ever since that fateful day all those years ago had
to be to blame. Even now her body called to him like the old siren songs of
old. His cock hardened, and his blood heated. His species healed through the
exchange of sexual energy, and it had been way too long since his body had
sought release in soft female flesh. He inhaled her sweet essence, mixed in
with the faint scent of lavender soap she used on her skin, and he willed his
erection to subside. She wouldn’t appreciate having her eyes poked out when she
woke up.
 
Her chest rose and fell,
drawing his attention to the slight swell of her bosom. She'd lost weight since
she'd last been at the
Loch
, making her pixie
features seem even more delicate, but he'd seen enough of her body over the
last few days to know that she had curves in all the right places. Without
conscious thought his hand strayed to the silky strands of her hair, and a
fresh wave of lavender tickled his senses. Her body responded to his touch,
even in her sleep, and he groaned at the way her nipples pebbled against the
t-shirt, the dusky rose of her areolas clearly visible through the sheer
fabric. His cock surged upwards, and his mouth went dry.
 
She, too, had shifted, her slightly open
mouth inches away from the barely covered head of his prick. He released his
hold on her and balled his hands into fists. It was all too easy to imagine her
lips wrapped around his cock while he shot his cum down her throat.

Fuck it all to hell and back.
She was far
too fragile for his needs, and he would be damned if he gave into his baser
instincts. He wasn't a monster.

She moaned in
her sleep, stretched, opened her eyes, and froze. Despite the pain in his balls
that matched the ache in his hip, he had to smile as heat flooded her cheeks,
and she scrambled off him as though she had been burned. She yanked the glasses
off her nose, making his smile deepen, and then seemingly thinking better of
it, put them back on her cute, little, freckled nose. It was an achingly
familiar move that made his gut churn uncomfortably. Clearly he'd been watching
her far too closely for that simple move to speak volumes. He ground his teeth
again and swore out loud in Celtic. Her eyes widened, and she scooted backwards
on her bottom. She scrambled to her feet and knocked the light shade of the old
fashioned little lamp on the coffee table.

"Ouch,
damn it. Sorry, let me just switch the light on. I can't see a thing, and I
didn’t mean to fall asleep, but you were so ill, and I didn't know what to do,
and—" The stream of words stopped abruptly when he struggled to sit up.
Light flooded the tiny sitting room, and he shook his head, temporarily blinded
as his sensitive eyes struggled to adjust to the brightness.

"What is
your name?" He remembered to use her language just in time, the words
sounding strange to his ears. She flinched at the hard tones, and he tried
again. "I'm Doric."

"Penelope,
Penelope Jefferson, nice to meet you."
 
She rolled her eyes and bit her lip, flushing bright scarlet. His sensitive
hearing just about picked up the muttered way she called herself an idiot. Did
she even realize she was talking to herself? He'd caught her do it often, the
words carrying down to his depths, drawing him ever nearer to her.

"Pe-ne-lo-pe."
He rolled the syllables around his tongue, and she clasped her arms around
herself. "It suits you, Penelope. I thank you for your hospitality, but I
must leave."

A fresh wave
of heat suffused her cheeks and spread down her exposed throat, making him
wonder how far that blush went.
 
His cock
hardened further, and he struggled to his feet, clutching the strange fabric to
himself to hide his body's reaction. He couldn't hide his wince of pain
however, as his hip locked, the remaining poison shooting arrows of acid along
his veins. Sweat broke out across his forehead, and he crunched his teeth to
stop himself from showing weakness in front of a human, delectable female or
not. He had to get away, back to the waters of the
Loch
,
away from temptation.

****

Oh, shit.
He didn't
look too good. Well, that was a lie. He looked good enough to eat. At least six
foot six of solid muscle, classic cheekbones, strong jaw, expressive golden
eyes under strong slashes of eyebrows, and the most kissable full lips, framed
by a mane of sandy colored hair. The man of her dreams, quite literally. But
his lightly tanned skin was tinged with grey, and deep grooves of pain ran from
his straight nose down to his mouth, and even though he'd masked it well, she'd
noticed his wince of pain. His hip line was swollen and purple, and he'd barely
recovered from his fever. Not to mention the small matter of why he'd washed up
on her side of the
Loch
, stark naked.

"You
can't leave. Where will you go? Besides you're not well enough. Don't worry.
I'm not going to delve into your private affairs. I'm sure I don't want to know
why you washed up with a dart in your side, and I bet you wouldn't tell me
anyway." She advanced on him whilst she spoke and put her hands on his
chest. A tingle went up her arms, and she swallowed her moan of surprise. His
pecs tightened under her hands, as though he too had felt that odd jolt of
electricity. She risked a peep up at his face and immediately wished she
hadn't. He looked murderous, and she swallowed nervously.

"Just
tell me you're not wanted for murder or something, and you can stay in the
spare bedroom, until you're fully recovered. You can't leave like this. I won't
let you."

His humorless
laugh trembled through her.

"You
won't let me? Do you really think you could stop me?"

She let her
hand trail down the hair-roughened expanse of his chest, skimmed across the
ridges of his abdomen and grazed her fingernails along his injury. He sucked in
a breath and went rigid, and she smiled up at him.

"You can
barely stand. Now cut the macho bullshit, and let me take care of you. I
certainly don't need you sniffing your last on my carpet. Blood stains are a
devil to get out, and the local cop sniffs round my skirts enough without
having to explain where you came from."

His mouth
kicked up into the ghost of a smile at her little speech.

"Brave
words from someone so little, but you have no idea who you're dealing with,
ceannbeag.
"

She shivered
in response to the quietly spoken words that held an edge of steel, and sent
awareness of the man strumming through her body. Moisture pooled between her
legs, and her breasts ached, her nipples stiff points against the fabric of her
tee. She bit her lip and dropped her gaze to the floor, lest he read her desire
in her eyes. As it was he leant closer into her, his erection nudging her
thigh, and Penelope's brain went to mush as her legs turned to jelly. Never
before had she had such an immediate reaction to a man, and right now, she
couldn't have cared less if he was an axe murderer.
 
He rubbed one calloused thumb across her
bottom lip and murmured to himself in that guttural language he had used
before. It made his voice deepen, and Penelope's stomach dropped in response.
That accent was sexy as hell.