Night Hunter (18 page)

If he ever got his hands on
her
again, she’d wish she’d never been born. He’d fasten his hands around her neck and choke the life out of her, but not—but not until she’d felt the full fury of his rage. She thought him weak, did she? A man with a man’s needs? A man enslaved by her sexual power?

Power was his!

It would be the last lesson she’d ever learn.

“Where are you?”

“I know you’re here. Don’t ask me how I do—or how I knew to come here. I did, and that’s all that matters.”

Frustrated by the sing-song inside her brain, Mala clenched her fists. She felt fourteen kinds of a fool for having driven back into the damnable Everglades and repeating the too-familiar ritual of leaving her car and walking into the wilderness—in the middle of the night no less. She hadn’t questioned why she’d taken off in a different direction this time with only the moon to guide her but could easily strangle whoever had decided she was up to crashing through endless plants. What was wrong with a path—even one created by wild animals? But no, Thunder was truly out in the middle of nowhere this time.

In the middle of nowhere, and hurt, she amended. She’d had enough presence of mind to pack a small first aid kit along with a bottle of water which, along with her practical tennis shoes, should have made her feel semi-in-control of the situation. Unfortunately, it didn’t.

After all, there was no denying that this was the most insane thing she’d ever done.

Insane and frightening.

Vital.

As she slogged through yet another boggy area, she fought having to admit to what frightened her the most. Maybe believing Thunder had been wounded had only been a nightmare. If that was the case, she was out here for no reason—well, maybe the reason was she needed an excuse to find him so he could fuck her again.

Swell! When you get the hots for a man, you really go off the deep end.

Oh, hell! Was that it? She’d become his sex toy?
No
.

“Damn you, Laird, or Thunder, whatever you want to call yourself,” she said because the depth of what she felt for him frightened her. “I don’t need this. All right, I do not under any circumstances need this!”

“Yes, you do.”

She’d lifted her left leg in preparation for stepping over a rotting log when something shoved her from behind. Throwing out her arms, she kept from falling by bracing herself against the log. She spun around, desperate to defend herself against her attacker.

Thunder! He launched himself at her like a panther leaps for its prey. His greater weight knocked her off balance. Together, they slid off the log. She landed on her back, pinned between the log and ground with an all but naked man now crouched over her.

“Laird!” she screamed although instinct told her the name meant nothing to him. “Laird, it’s me!”

He growled deep in his throat. His menacing stance chilled her—but not enough that she didn’t see his blood-soaked side. “I felt you,” she said, fighting to keep her voice calm. “In my dreams and—you know.”

His blazing eyes told her he cared about nothing except survival. At least he wasn’t trying to kill her. This man had fucked her senseless, maybe even made love to her. That had to count for something, didn’t it?

“What happened?” She indicated his side. “Who hurt you?”

From the way he was acting, she couldn’t tell if he understood a word she’d said.

“That’s what I felt, isn’t it?” His reaction or lack of one didn’t matter. She’d keep on talking because maybe something would get through to him. “I knew you’d been wounded. Maybe even without being aware of it, you sent me a message.”

His next growl was lower, deeper.

“You haven’t forgotten me. I’ll never believe that.”
Please, let that be true!
“And you won’t hurt me.”
But maybe you’re not the man I let crawl inside me. Maybe he died.

He stepped closer so that only a few inches separated them. Because she hadn’t dared try to stand, she was forced to stare up at him. She’d landed on something sharp, but whatever was digging into her shoulder blade only briefly distracted her.

“I shouldn’t have let you leave,” she whispered. “Somehow I should have found a way to keep you with me. If I had, this wouldn’t have happened.” She nodded at his side. “But Laird—Thunder—whatever has hold of you is so powerful.”

Words she didn’t comprehend spewed out of him.

“Are the Seminole all right? You’ve been so worried about—about your people. The soldiers—is that who did this to you?”

He cocked his head to one side as if trying to understand. It suddenly dawned on her that they could be in danger. What if whoever had wounded him was nearby? She barely gave her own safety a thought, but Thunder’s life was in danger. She had to get him out of here and into a hospital.

Propelled by a sense of purpose, she turned onto her side in preparation for getting onto her hands and knees. He rammed his hand against her shoulder, knocking her back again. Fury and fear warred inside her. She struggled to manage both emotions.

“I’m no threat to you. Surely you understand that.”

He’d again assumed his aggressive stance, but even as she fought to ignore that, she became aware of his vulnerability. It wasn’t just that she sensed his blood loss caused weakness. With his legs widespread, she had an almost unlimited view of his cock behind the loose, short loincloth. His cock wasn’t swollen and hard, but neither was it limp.

“You’ve fucked me every way a woman can be fucked,” she admitted. “Well, almost. Even when we weren’t together, I felt you inside me. I was helpless to do anything about it, even more helpless than I am now. Everything you wanted me to do, I did. Now—now I want one thing from you.”

He appeared to be listening. How much he comprehended, she couldn’t say.

“Let me take care of you. Get you out of here.”

His eyes darkened. His hand inched closer to his knife. Her mouth went dry. Unable to think of anything to say, she risked taking her gaze off him. The Everglades intruded from all sides, and the air was alive with the sound of countless unseen creatures. Humidity pressed down on her. For the life of her, she didn’t know how she’d gotten here. Nothing mattered more than getting the hell out—with him.

Sucking in a deep breath, she reached up. Her hand closed around his cock. Calling herself insane, she nevertheless began stroking him. He started to draw back, then stopped. His cock swelled.

“You do remember,” she whispered. Moving her fingers closer to his balls, she increased her hold on him. Her clitoris buzzed, but she clamped her legs together, determined to ignore her response. Then she noticed he was staring at what she’d done, and immediately spread herself wide.

“You want me,” she said in a sing-song tone. “And I want you. Do it. Now.”

Hoping to give weight to her words, she flexed her knees, looking for all the world as if she was preparing for a gynecological exam. “When you’re done—when we’ve finished, I’ll get you to a doctor.”

She fully expected him to reach for her, but he didn’t move.

“Why do you think I came all this way? Because I haven’t had enough of you.”
I’ll never have enough of you.

He continued to look down at her. Other than his engorged penis, he seemed unaware of what she was doing to him.

“Thunder, please.” Determined to get through to him, she reached for his necklace. Before she could touch it, however, he yanked his knife free of its sheath and dropped to the ground with his knees pressed against her lower legs. The movement tore his cock from her grasp. The knife was so close she couldn’t see it clearly, knew only that he’d aimed it at her throat.

“No!”

Propelled by her scream, she threw out her hand, hoping to deflect the deadly blade. At the same time, she wrenched herself to the side. The knife was only inches from her throat, coming closer.

“No!”

Acting instinctively, she rammed her fist into his wounded side. He grunted and knocked her hand away. He’d become a blur—a blur now intent on slicing her throat open.

“Thunder, no!” she screamed. She pulled her leg tight up against her and let it fly. Her heel ground into his side.

He growled, then slumped to the ground.

Chapter Thirteen

When the cloud that had enveloped Thunder lifted, he noticed the woman before the pain in his side made its impact. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but she wasn’t dressed like the women from his village and didn’t smell like them. She was speaking to him, and he struggled to make sense of her strange words.

Instead of feeling like a trapped and helpless animal, he found himself being drawn to her. She held his knife and was far enough away that he couldn’t reach it without getting to his feet—something he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to accomplish. If only the side of his head where she’d hit him would stop throbbing.

“Sorry,” she said. Then she repeated the word.

“So-rry?”

Her face lit up, and for a moment he thought she was going to embrace him. She didn’t which left him wondering what his reaction would have been.

“That I hurt you,” she said.

He blinked and started to shake his head but stopped when his headache worsened.

“You understand me?” she asked.

“Y-es.”

“Thank goodness! How-how did that happen to you?” She pointed at his side.

He touched himself there, wincing as sweat from his hand burned the wound. “I do not know,” he admitted.

“You don’t remember?”

Everything was confusing. One thing he was positive about: he’d never admitted weaknesses to anyone. He wasn’t going to start now, particularly not with this intriguing and disturbing woman.

“I’m not surprised.” She spoke in a soothing voice, but there was nothing soothing about her impact on him. In truth, her every word touched a nerve ending. “You’ve been through so much.”

He struggled to sit up. The effort stole his breath and left him panting in pain, but he completed the formidable task without accepting her outstretched hand. Now he was sitting with his weight mostly on his uninjured side. She scooted closer.

“Do you remember how we met?” she asked. Her left hand was only inches from his knees. The right held his knife and remained out of reach. “What’s happened between us?”

A vague image of having seen her naked nagged at him. Even stronger was the sense that he’d had need of her and had capitalized on her lustfulness in order to achieve his goals. He wished he could remember how he’d accomplished that.

“Why are you here?” he asked. He hoped the question didn’t reveal too much about his uncertain state of mind.

“Why? Because…” She raked her hand through her hair, then let it drop to her side. “Because you made me.”

Another flash of memory struck, this one stronger and more vivid. He’d had sex with her. He was certain of that. She’d both resented the mating and had been hungry for it.

“Were you here when I was wounded?”

“No. If I had been, maybe it wouldn’t have happened. I, ah, I know you by two names, Laird and Thunder. What do you want me to call you?”

Both names reminded him of well-loved songs. The first brought him closer to understanding who he’d always been while the other spoke of challenge, danger, and discovery. “You decide,” he told her.

She frowned. “I never—Laird!” she said too emphatically. “That’s who you are.”

Once, maybe, but no longer.
Unwilling to share his insight with her, he turned his thoughts inward. As long as he didn’t move, he felt relatively clearheaded, but he doubted that would continue if he tried to stand. At the same time, he sensed that to stay here was dangerous. He rocked forward, his weight on his knees in preparation for getting to his feet. She must have guessed what he had in mind because she jumped up and positioned herself so he could cling to her if necessary.

He resented her confidence in her body and strength, but decided not to test the difference between them. Returning to a reclining position, he waited for her to kneel again. She did so, glaring at him.

The sense that he’d managed her earlier in ways that kept her off balance, aroused and angry at the same time, grew. Although he couldn’t say where the conviction came from, he knew he’d always had a certain power over women and had used it to his advantage. Something was different about his connection to this one, but he didn’t take the time to examine that.

“Who is Laird?” he demanded. “Tell me about him.”

“You—you’re him.”

“I need to know who you believe he is.”

Fury flashed in her eyes. She looked a breath away from striking him. Because he was in no condition to subdue her, he held out his hand, indicating he wanted her to place hers in it. For the first time, he noticed he was wearing a ring. He stared at it.

“It’s mine,” she said softly. “At least it was before I gave it to you. This—” She spun her bracelet around on her wrist so he could see all of it, “—was inspired by your necklace. You came to my place. I showed you the jewelry I make and gave you that ring. I-I called you Laird. You responded.”

Just like he was responding now
. Not caring that the loose flap of leather he wore didn’t hide his growing erection, he reached out and boldly caught her right nipple between thumb and forefinger. Instead of pulling away, she leaned into him. A little of the fire in her eyes died to be replaced by a sheen of moisture.

“When I do this, what do you feel?” he asked.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Ignoring her plea, he rubbed until the nipple grew hard. It didn’t take long.

“It isn’t fair.” Her voice sounded muffled. “You shouldn’t—damn it!”

The throbbing in his side faded. Strength was returning to him, but whether it was enough to allow him to fuck her, he couldn’t say. He tried to tell himself that getting at the truth of what today was about was more important, but until certain needs had been satisfied, until he’d stripped away her defenses and left her vulnerable, honest, and open—until he no longer felt alone—everything else would have to wait.

“What shouldn’t I do?” he asked. If she’d wanted, she could have easily pulled free. Instead, she continued to lean into him with her neck arched as if she couldn’t get enough oxygen into her lungs.