Dark Hunter's Touch

She held Vaile close and spread her wings.

Chapter Two

It had been a very long time since he’d fallen so hard for a girl.

And from his precarious position dangling two stories above rock and sand and river, Vaile thought it just might get harder yet.

“Don’t squirm,” his flight attendant warned. “I’m trying not to drop you.”

“That’s comforting.”

They came in low and fast, skimming the river. Then his trailing legs caught a dune, and they went rolling in a ball of sand, seawater and swearing.

He staggered to his feet, instantly whirling to face the cliff they had descended so fantastically. The three misshapen dogs paced the rim, drawing back only to make room for the horned rider who stared down.

Vaile gave him a vigorous middle finger.

“Don’t mock them.” Imogene climbed to her feet a few steps away.

“Why? Will they do something worse than push us over a cliff?”

“Technically, they didn’t push us. I did.”

“Ah. True. But since you were trying to save my life, I forgive you.”

She stared at him. “You’re taking this awfully in stride for someone who just flew off a cliff.”

“I have a long stride,” he reminded her. “Plus, I have more pressing issues, such as the impressive amount of sand in my shorts.”

Her gaze flicked downward. “Oh. That’s all just sand?”

For a moment, he thought his cheeks actually heated. But it must have been road rash from the tumble.

She glanced away, brushing at herself. Along with the sand, she brushed off her T-shirt—all the way off. The cotton had shredded under the burst of her wings, and the sorry remains fluttered down around her sneakers.

Judging from the prickling heat that flushed through him, he had road rash all over.

She definitely blushed, raising one hand to shield her breasts. She had beautiful breasts, which he judged would fit neatly in his palm. The blue stone glowed dark against her pale skin. He wanted to lace his fingers through hers and spread her arms to expose her to the light of the moon, to demand she forget such modest notions after she’d so boldly defied their pursuers and gravity itself.

His blood pulsed in a hot tide through his limbs, roused by her moon-white curves. A gentleman would avert his gaze; he decided not overtly salivating was concession enough. “Lingerie commercials aside, I suppose you can’t wear a bra over wings.”

“It does tend to ruffle feathers.” The silvery white wings that cascaded from her shoulders to midway down her thighs weren’t truly feathered, more like shimmering metallic leaves or the scales of a magnified butterfly wing.

“I can’t believe you managed to glide us down on those.”

“I’m stronger than I look.”

“I am starting to see that,” he murmured. The note of surprise in his voice should have gotten him a raised eyebrow at least, but she was obviously considering more immediate problems.

She stared up the empty cliff. “We have to find a place to hide. They’ll go upstream until they can cross at the culvert, and then they will be after us again.”

“Where can we go?”

She directed her clear blue gaze to him. “Don’t you want to know what they are or what they want?”

“They are bad news. They want you. I am in their way.” He ticked off the points on his fingers. “I was focusing on the important stuff.”

She pursed her lips. “You were focusing on my breasts.”

“Important stuff,” he reiterated. He flashed her a lazy smile.

Another blow from the horn—farther away, but still too close—shivered each grain of sand and droplet of water so that the beach scintillated with uncanny brilliance. The otherworldly beauty froze his smile in place.

“The Hunters are coming fast,” she whispered. She stepped closer to him. He breathed the scent of her, wild and heady, like a rare flower that shouldn’t exist trapped here between bare rock and vast ocean.

“There is no place to hide.” He didn’t bother whispering.

“In plain sight.” She took another step closer. Even streaked with sand, with her red-gold hair roughed into standing waves and her wings tucked demurely behind her, she shone almost too pure for his gaze.

His hands twitched, reaching out to her of their own accord—wanting.

She gazed up at him with glimmering gemstone eyes. “Do you trust me?”

How could she ask that, when he was the one with his hands settling at the tender junction of her neck and shoulders, just above her bare breasts and her delicate wings? He brushed his thumb along the line of her jaw and felt her tremble.

Afraid, was she? Of the Hunters following? Of him or of herself?

“I just jumped off a cliff with you,” he reminded her in a ragged voice. “And I didn’t scream at all.”

“Then kiss me.”

His stroking thumb stilled. “Kiss you? Here? Now?” Even with those furious Hunters on their path, his heart had not hammered as painfully as it did now. “But—”

“Kiss me.” Her voice quivered then smoothed, like bright quartz pebbles turning over in a gentle wave. Helplessly, his body swayed toward her, drawn by the undertow. “Kiss me as if there is no room even for moonlight between us, as if we have only one breath to share. Kiss me now.”

Before she finished speaking, his lowered his mouth over her parted lips and did as she commanded.

Ah, sweet good night! She was more than he had dreamed. Every time they had passed, with every fleeting glance, she had thrown one more loop of mystery around him. Now he had her in his arms, and he would finally have his answers.

She tasted of forbidden yearnings, of sunlight that made the shadows deeper. He curled his fingers in the fall of her hair, and the silky caress over the backs of his knuckles set his every nerve ablaze.

He drew her close against his body until the pendant ground into his breastbone. The twinge distracted him, and he tried to gentle his grasp. It was too much too soon. But she gripped his biceps and drew herself up to her tiptoes, surfing his chest like a perfect breaking swell.

Her tongue teased his. Yeah, something was definitely swelling.... He returned the favor, tracing the slick inner curve of her out-thrust lip. He nipped gently, and her grip tightened on his arms.

She pulled back just a bit. Her eyes, searching his, were wide enough to catch a last spear of moonlight just before the clouds closed entirely.

He stroked one finger down her exposed spine. Beneath his calloused palm, the trailing edge of her wing was softer than velvet. He rubbed the scalloped bottom, amazed how the tissue-thin substance flexed with curious strength against his gentle tug, as if at the memory of a restless wind. The sensation delighted him on some deep level. The feeling was obviously mutual because she closed her eyes and swayed into him.