The Sentinel Keeper (Forest Series) (2 page)

“Who are you?”

Beth heard him in her head as clear as if he had shouted out loud.

She inched behind the broad tree. Her fingers were remarkably steady as she called up the clip she had just saved, tapped out a message and sent it on to Jackson. She knew there was no signal in the forest, but it would stay in her outbox and maybe later….

She lifted her gaze, and the full force of his gaze hit her. It felt as if all the breath was sucked out of her body as she met his stare. His cruel beauty almost tore a gasp from her lips.

Tearing her eyes away from him, she turned around and ran.

The second she broke the contact with him Beth felt her head clear. Her only goal was to get away from these two sword-wielding men. She tore through the trees, heading on the rough path towards the dirt track. Her feet were moving fast now, racing over roots and logs as if the forest itself guided her. 

Adrenalin, she told herself as she hurdled a massive fallen tree.

She knew he was coming for her, but she was going to give he a hell of a chase. The light was fading fast and the forest was darker than she remembered. Weaving like the wind, she felt her muscles move in the steady motion of power. She rounded the tree and turned onto the track when she saw a sudden flash of light. The next second she ran straight into a solid block. The shock of the contact snapped her head back with a force so great she was sure she had broken something as she bounced, her body flying backwards through the air before she landed with a sickening thump on the floor of the forest. A sharp rock cut into her back and the air shot out of her lungs with an explosion.

With a deafening growl, the dark-haired killer launched himself on top of her. Beth felt a crack as his full weight hit her, taking with it the last of her breath. She saw the dark face loom over her.

As the world went black she felt her eyes lock onto his and an ancient longing seemed to well up inside her, something old and primal and far more powerful than her. One thought echoed in her head as her lights went out.

Found him.

The second he landed on the small delicate body, Melchior realised the fast young male he was chasing was not a boy after all. It was very much a female.

Stop it.
The words that had been coursing through his veins since he had locked onto her eyes suddenly evaporated from his head in a rush. All rational thoughts left him. All he could feel was the soft warmth of her body stretched out below him, and the scent of lemon and rose on her skin. He recoiled like a snake, tearing his head back so he could get a look at her face. His blood was still pounding thick and fast in his veins from the chase and the instinct to kill was racing through him. But he had not expected this. His eyes raked down her face.

Dear Gods it was the face of a dark angel. Long black lashes lay thick and full on creamy white skin. Her lips were full and curved upwards. Her hair was cropped short like a male’s, cut close on one side with a longer sweep on the other as the jet-black hair fell over one eye. The faint shadows of blue bruises ringed her eyes.

Melchior was spread over her in a sprawl, his dead weight crushing her to the forest floor. Beneath his hands her arms felt lean and sinewy and below his legs her thighs were taught and muscled. Her body was lean to the point of emaciation, but still her muscles were solid and long. And she had moved like an athlete. Even if he could have mistaken the swell of her breasts, there was no mistaking the immediate animal response his body had to her.

His body hummed over hers, an aching need hitting him hard and fast.  It was a feeling he had put aside. A feeling he hadn’t allowed for centuries. It hit him now like a freight train. He wanted her. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to take her.

He sprung back, leaping off her and landing in a crouch a meter back. But there was no denying the fact that his body had an instant animal response to her. He was hard, his arousal was straining against his fighting pants and a sharp need was heating his blood and pounding through his head. Beautiful. She was so achingly beautiful lying there on the forest floor, like a dangerous creature from another world.

This could not be happening. She was a human female, something he hadn’t touched for the last two centuries. Something he had sworn never to allow himself to touch again. No.

There was a movement beside him and a whirl of wind circled him. Then a small tornado whipped up the leaves and the next second Aslan was next to him. He had shrugged on a cashmere jersey and toweled off the worst of the blood from the sparring session.  Aslan was Guardian of the Wind and more lethal with a sword than any warrior he had fought with over the years. He bowed his head slightly as he approached Melchior, a greeting appropriate for his leader.

Then Aslan eyed the slight figure lying motionless on the ground. He cocked an eyebrow.

“Woah.” he said with a grin. “Now that’s kinda nice.”

Melchior felt a low growl rise from his chest and saw the warrior crack an even bigger smile.

“You good boss?” Aslan asked, looking down at the girl again, open appreciation in his yes. “Need me to lend a hand subduing, erm, the intruder?”

“Get lost,” Melchior growled and he shot Aslan another dangerous look.

Aslan chuckled, dipping his head ever so slightly in a half-bow. Then the air itself seemed to part as he became a swirl of wind again and raced off through the trees leaving Melchior alone in the forest with the human female at his feet.

Steeling himself, he walked forward and crouched next to her. Dear Gods. Her black running pants were curved against her skin, framing long legs that had gently flared open as she lay on her back. Her tight white vest had pulled up, exposing a strip of flat stomach edged with a band of muscle.

He dragged his gaze higher and his breath caught in his throat. Her tiny nipples were hard as pebbles; tiny and tight as they peaked through the wet vest like small pearls on top of the pert breasts below. He wanted to taste them.

Melchior reined his thoughts in and slowed his breath, dialing the animal lust racing inside him down a notch.

He grimaced. Control. That’s what he knew. One breath at a time. Just get the camera and get rid of her. His breath was slowing now and his body calming under the force of his will.  Yes, he had it all under control now. His eyes snapped open. Then he looked down at her face and saw, to his horror, that his hand was buried deep in her tousled hair.

Before he had a second to think, even to jerk his hand back, he felt a searing pain in his calf. He just had time to look down and see a knife buried deep in his leg before his legs were swept out from under him.

Beth pushed herself off the ground in a classic Beth Price move her sensei had always described as ‘freakily fast’ and was on her feet in a heartbeat. She had just knocked the man off his feet and buried her blade in his leg. Time to run for her life.

She turned and hoofed it. She got just three steps.

In front of her stood the black-haired giant, his face cold with rage. He was panting, his chest rising and falling almost as fast as hers, taught muscles moving underneath his golden skin. He looked like a black vengeful angel. He was the most beautiful, terrifying man Beth had ever seen.

And her blade was sticking out of his calf like a skewer.

Beth backed away. Not. Possible.

He had been on the floor behind her.

Beth could feel the trembling start, the crippling fear that threatened to overwhelm her, as the thought that flooded her head was a single clear one. Not human. She knew it in an instant.

But in the back of her mind she also heard her training kick in. Never show fear. There was no way she was going to be able to fight this man. But she had other weapons at her disposal. She looked up at him and rearranged her mouth into an easy grin.

“Are you going to let me pass or am I going to have to give you the password?”

At her joking tone she could see the warrior do a double take, thrown by her sudden change of tactic.

Bingo.

“Aaah,” she let out a low throaty laugh. “The password. Let me see now… it’s Jerry Bruckheimer”

His face was blank.

“Oh no that was last year’s one. Canned because you couldn’t spell it.”

Beth was talking fast, but she was also slowly backing away from him at the same time. He was watching her and if Beth wasn’t so damn nervous she would have bet his lips twitched slightly before the eyes narrowed again, blank once more.

“I remember now… it’s…”

She was stalling, backing further away.

She tensed, ready to run.

“Ah yes… it was something really simple. Short words….

It’s.. ‘EAT MY DUST’”

As she shot out the words she spun and ran for her life. Her thighs burned as she leapt over roots and pushed herself forward down the path.

Never going to make it.

The thought rushed through her even as she sprinted round a corner.

Then she felt the hand grab her shoulder as he spun her around and slammed her body back against a tree. His huge body was pressed tight against hers as he held her motionless. She could scarcely breathe, never mind move an inch. His eyes seemed to pause for a second on her lips before he dragged them lower and they moved slowly down her body. He took his time as he surveyed her in a cold, clinical manner.

Beth became painfully aware of her lack of clothing.  She was standing in the rank cold in little more than her tight track pants and a white vest, her was hoodie tied around her waist thankfully concealing her phone. When he lifted his head again Beth could see a dangerous smoulder in his eyes. Not quite immune to my charms, she thought as her heart lurched.

Neither spoke and it felt as if the air between them was growing cold waiting for something to happen. Something was in the air between them. He was just a breath away from her now. Close up he radiated a power and purely male energy that almost overwhelmed her. His expansive chest blocked her view, massive and unyielding. The raw, male smell of him assaulted her senses.  Beth summoned used every ounce of her self-control to stop herself trembling. She wasn’t sure any more if it was the cold any more, or the extraordinarily inappropriate animal attraction her body was having to the man.

His voice finally broke the spell.

“What
are
you?”

Strange way to put it, Beth thought.

“Who are
you
?” she countered, jutting her chin forward.

“Melchior,” he said. “I am the protector of this forest and I need your phone.”

Beth sighed with as much drama as she could muster.

Talk your way out of this one Price.

“Ah, no signal up here. Sorry about that.”

The man shook his head.

“Give it to me,” he ordered.

“The name’s Beth,” she snapped back. “And there’s a magic word that’s missing there mugger.”

He didn’t rise to her bait; he just eyed her with a stone-cold glare. 

“The phone.”

He held out his hand, clearly used to his every order being obeyed.  In fact everything about him looked under control. He looked cold, cruel and calculating. He knew he had her cornered. She cocked her head up and looked at him through her dark eyes, fighting a sudden need to taste his skin with her tongue.

“Come and get it mugger,” she said.

Melchior didn’t hesitate. Before she could take a breath he had moved. He crossed the gap between them. Then he spun her around, twisted her arms behind her back and pushed her hard against a tree.

Beth’s face was pressed into the trunk of the tree as he kicked her legs apart with a brutal shove and planted his feet in between hers. His hard body was pressed up against her back, stretched out over the full length of her, and then still he towered above her.