The Shadow Wolf

“Stop acting as if you have no idea what I’m talking about. Normals. What you ordinary Draicon call yourself, what you insist we call you. You think you’re normal and we’re not just because we can perform magick before puberty, unlike you, and we can shift and become invisible, unlike you.”

She gave him a pointed look. “With our gifts, I’d say we’re superior to Normals. Except I’m not racist. Unlike you.”

Amber glowed in his eyes. His wolf was emerging. As he raised his hand, Megan braced herself for the slap. Instead, he dropped his hand to her forehead, ran a thumb over the bruise.

“Some of us are anything but normal,” he muttered.

A brisk knock at the door announced the arrival of a cheerful, rounded woman bearing a wood tray. On the tray was a large china plate piled with food, silverware, a napkin and a tall glass of orange juice. Megan nearly moaned at the savory smells of bacon, sausage and fried eggs. The woman set down the tray on the nightstand, accepted Gabriel’s thanks and left.

Megan picked up the fork. Plastic, she noticed ruefully. Not much use as a weapon. This Draicon wasn’t a fool. She poked at the eggs.

“It’s not poisoned.”

His voice, close to her ear, made her jump. Megan speared a sausage, turned it over. “Sure, right.”

“If I wanted to drug you, chère, I’d merely put you to sleep with a mind suggestion, like I did back at the restaurant.” Amusement laced his tone. His gaze grew stern. “Now eat.”

Her hands shook so much she could barely bring the fork to her mouth. Eggs spilled onto the tray. Embarrassed, she shuffled the food around the plate. Gabriel paced over to the window and stood before it. Megan quickly ate, then wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. She drank the orange juice, feeling the throbbing hunger ease.

“Thanks for the food,” she managed to say.

Gabriel turned around. Shafts of yellow sunlight angled into the room, falling on him like a spotlight. Breath caught in her lungs. Denim jealously hugged every inch of his hard, muscled legs. He was gorgeous, with the face of a fallen angel, secrets lurking in those swamp-dark eyes. The sheer sexuality felt like a blast of heat in the air-conditioned room.

She wondered what it would feel like to run her hands over his firm muscles, splay her fingers on that hard chest, feeling his heart race with the same anticipation she felt.

He’s a cold, soulless killer, she sternly reminded herself. Megan drew in a breath, inhaling a spicy, rich aroma, like expensive men’s cologne. Instinct told her it was his own natural scent. Damn, he smelled good.

His knowing smile warned he knew she’d checked him out. Megan squashed her irritation.

“Can I take a shower alone, or are you playing guard dog outside the bathroom, too?”

“Through there is the main guest bath.” He pointed at a closed door. “Need help getting undressed?”

“I can manage.”

“I can wash your back,” he offered in a deep, laconic drawl.

Shivers raced through her. Megan envisioned herself in the shower, Gabriel running the soap down her back, gently caressing her slippery skin with his big hands, cupping her hips, pulling her against his naked body….

Not in this lifetime. “I always watch my own back,” she muttered.

“Watch or wash?” he asked softly.

“Both. Because I never know when someone’s going to stick a knife in it.”

His gaze grew thoughtful. “I’ll get the clothing for you. There are fresh towels and everything else you need in the bathroom.”

When she didn’t move, Gabriel sighed. “Come on, I’ll help you.”

As he grabbed her upper arm, Megan flinched. His gaze narrowed as she went to her feet.

“Take off your shirt,” he ordered.

A violent trembling seized her. This was it, then. After all she’d gone through, constantly moving to avoid the sexual threats, keeping herself pure because she had vowed never to give herself to a man unless it was done with love, it came down to this.

“Do you always molest your captives?” she bit out.

He was far stronger and bigger, but she’d go down kicking and screaming. And biting.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, more gently this time. “Take off your shirt.”

Color flooded her cheeks. She struggled to lift the threadbare green polo shirt over her head. He helped.

In her faded bra, she hugged herself, feeling cold and exposed and vulnerable. But anger, not lust, glinted his dark eyes. His mouth compressed to a thin slash as he traced one of the purpling bruises on her arms.

“Who did this?”

“I fell down the stairs.”

“Megan, who hit you?”

Rather than have him yank it from her mind, she settled for the truth. “The fisherman on the boat that smuggled us to the Bahamas. Said he’d heard Shadow females were incredible in bed, and he planned to find out. He beat me and threatened to hit the girls unless I cooperated.”

Gabriel’s breath eased out in a violent hiss.

“I made a deal with him. Said sex was better when Shadows weren’t in physical form. If he could catch me while I was in shadow, I was all his. He liked the chase.”

“That’s why you were low on energy. You were invisible the entire trip to the Bahamas.”

“I escaped at a cost. I thought I could make up for it by catching fish when we landed at the Bahamas, but the fishing was lousy and the girls were hungry. In addition to trying to molest me, the fisherman fed us only scraps.”

“You haven’t eaten properly for five days. Damn,” he muttered.

Suddenly she felt drained beyond words. “Is show and tell over with now? Can I get dressed?”

Gabriel didn’t say anything. He continued tracing the ugly bruises on her arms. His touch was gentle and oddly soothing, as if he wanted to erase her pain.

“What’s his name?” His gaze was hard, but his voice was as soft as his touch.

She saw no reason to protect the man, since he was taking advantage of helpless Shadows. “He calls himself Devin Andrews, but we know him as Grouper. He likes deep-sea fishing, and uses that as his cover. His boat name, too.”

“Good.” He jerked his hand away, as if touching her scorched him. Gabriel turned his back. “Take your shower, and after, I have liniment for those bruises to help them heal faster. You’re still too weak for your body to effectively heal itself.”

“Is this your modus operandi?”

A half smile touched his full mouth as he glanced at her over his shoulder. “My what?”

“Being solicitous toward your victims before you kill them and collect the bounty on their heads.”