Banshee Seduction (Montgomery's Sin Book 1) (20 page)

It was too much. Her stomach clenched with anxiety.

She sat back and closed her eyes to block out the picture of people staring at her and taking her photograph like she was public property. She’d spent her life keeping a low profile, and suddenly everyone wanted to know who she was. She couldn’t understand how she hadn’t incinerated yet, but she liked the color of her pearly-pink nail polish, dammit.

Ellie’s strong fingers sank into her knee, and she almost shot out of her seat again as she opened her eyes wide to the sight of Matt charging headlong toward them. The sound of thunder filled the stadium and rattled the rows of seats.

The tallest player on the field, he was surprisingly fast, but when they took him down, he crashed like a ton of wet cement, skidded across the field with two players on top of him, and lay motionless beneath the heap.

Ginny came to her feet; her stomach quailed. She wasn’t sure her heart was strong enough to watch him being battered. What on earth did grown men see in a game where injury and death ruled?

•
●•

He crouched, rested the heels of his hands solidly on his knees as he narrowed his eyes and listened to the quarterback. He shuffled in closer, nodded his understanding, and then took up his position.

Within a split second, the thunder of bodies racing toward him resonated up through the ground, making the soles of his feet tingle and his heartbeat kick up a notch. Adrenaline raced as he rushed to greet them.

Knowing he shouldn’t, he couldn’t resist casting a glance into the stands on his right to catch the shimmer of white light glowing from the top of the banshee’s hair. No mistaking her. He allowed himself a secret smile as he imagined all those soft curves in his arms—hopefully naked next time.

With a jolt of awareness, he brought his attention back to the field. Just nine seconds left on the clock, enough time for two more plays before the half was over. A long pass down the left sideline was hauled in by the wide receiver, deftly dragging both toes on the turf before his momentum carried him out of bounds. A thirty-four-yard gain and the clock stopped at four seconds.

The Chameleons were deep in the red zone on the Pirates’ eight-yard line. The final play of the first half, and if they got through, they were going into halftime in the lead.

Sweat trickled down his neck, and he rolled his head in an attempt to stop the irritating itch. He squinted to his left as they set up the play in the zone and knew the Boston corner was going to make a play for Wolf. Matt rolled his weight onto his toes. Every instinct screamed at him that the Pirates’ corner, diagonal to his line of sight, had positioned himself to take the ball. If he did, the little bastard was faster than a cougar and wilier than a hyena.

Distracted, Matt glanced above the head of the wide receiver once more to where Ginny stood, fingers pressed against her lips. A mellow warmth stole through his chest and cost him his concentration.

The rumble of bodies approaching filled his head, and he automatically kicked back into the game. Adrenaline pumped up, he tucked his body in to rush forward, ready to demolish the corner who, true to form, was running hell for leather straight at Wolf. Stupid kid. Didn’t he know he was just about to be ground under the weight of The Dane?

The dragon roared “Kill,” and Matt flung himself headlong at the other guy, his arms outstretched to crush him. Too late, his vision filled with a full frontal attack from the Pirates’ defensive end. At the same time, their linebacker slid in from his left and took his legs from under him, sending his world into a black void.

He blinked. The flaccid naked belly of the Pirates’ defensive end—way past his sell-by date—pressed heavily through the grid of Matt’s helmet as the guy lay sideways across his head. Matt blinked again. Suffocation wasn’t going to be a problem as his breath had stopped when his body had been pulverized under the combined weight of both the defensive end and the linebacker. Much to his disgust, he’d missed the corner altogether. From the roar of the crowd, the fucker had managed to sack Wolf. Either that, or Matt’s brain was bleeding out through his ears.

The body above him squirmed, letting more light into his vision, only to have it assaulted by the guy’s ugly, stretched belly button surrounded by thick black hair that almost poked him in the eye before the bastard rolled off him. Relieved of the weight of the two men, Matt waited.

I’ll breathe in just a second—there’s no rush.

He stared up at the clear blue sky. It reminded him of Ginny’s beautiful clear blue eyes. A vacuous, floating sensation surrounded him.

Another minute and I’ll breathe.

Dark storm clouds rolled in thick and fast.

“You okay, son?”

The grizzly voice of his coach made it past the hissing sound filling his head, and he tried to nod. Black mists swarmed heavier, engulfing his vision. He closed his eyes and welcomed the dark silence.

•
●•

Ginny leaped to her feet once more, heart firmly lodged in her throat, with the other two women screaming like banshees so she could barely think.

“They killed him.” She pressed her fingers to her lips in the hope the acid in her stomach would stay there. He was dead. Surely he was dead, and she was about to be sick.

“No, sweetie.” Lorna yowled while they watched the heap of tangled arms, legs, and bodies in front of them move. “They just stopped him from killing the corner who went on to sack Wolf is all.”

Ginny had no idea what a sack involved, nor did she have any interest. All she knew was the man she’d fallen for had just died in front of her eyes. The constriction in her chest felt like it was about to explode. No one seemed to care as the frenzied screaming and clapping continued, and the two women talked in loud voices over her, oblivious to her pain.

She curled over the sharp clench in her stomach, hugging herself as her breath trapped in her throat. The voices in her head competed with the surrounding noise, intent on deafening her.

“The Pirates’ new corner certainly knows how to fake players out of their boots and motor to the quarterback. He’s fast, and despite being new to the team, he slipped through the Chameleons. Did you see how their defensive end and linebacker took The Dane down in no uncertain terms? He’s almost as big as The Fridge back in the old days.” Ellie’s fever-pitch voice filled Ginny’s head, sounding like a commentary—one Ginny simply didn’t understand. Why would anyone compare her gorgeous Matt to a refrigerator? They were strange women.

“He’s way slimmer than The Fridge. Two-eighty pounds if you ask me. He’s got to be almost six feet eight. The boy’s a bruiser.”

“You are so right, Lorna.”

Confused by the older women’s obvious knowledge of the game, Ginny leaned over the barrier to peer at the mass of bodies in front of her, piled just short of what she was reliably informed was the score line.

“He’s going to hurt.” Ashamed at the pathetic mewl in her voice, she leaned weakly against Lorna.

“Hurt?” Ellie slapped her back and restarted her heart for her. Ginny wasn’t quite sure whether she should be grateful or insulted, as the two women insisted on rough-handling her. “He’s going to be fine. We’re straight into half time, and you’ll see, he’ll be out and running again after a short break.”

Ginny stared at Matt’s inert body, doubt stabbing at her chest as the men surrounding him struggled to heft him onto a stretcher. He definitely appeared to be dead. She glanced left and right and wondered if there was anything she could do, but Daniel had disappeared, and she wasn’t sure how she would find Matt in the enormous stadium, even if she went looking. Even if she found him, what use would she be? She was a qualified first-aider, but she was pretty sure resurrecting the dead was beyond her.

She slumped back into her seat and accepted a bottle of chilled water from Ellie. Perhaps she just needed to leave him to Daniel and all the men hovering over him as they wheeled the stretcher off the field.

“He’ll be okay, hon. You just wait and see.”

Lorna raised the half-empty bottle of champagne to her lips and gave Ginny a reassuring pat on the knee as she took a deep slug of the pale golden liquid.

•●•

Six miniature Ginny’s, dressed in matching diaphanous white baby-dolls, pranced around in a circle. Their sleek white hair flipped about and made him want to reach out and stroke it, but the weight pressing down on his arms restrained him.

The buzz of men’s voices interfered with his moment of ecstasy. Just as six sweet Ginny’s bent over at the waist and treated him to a synchronized ass peep, someone nearly lost their life as they gave his cheek a rough pinch. The first little Ginny looked back over her shoulder at him, her cute tush jiggled, she raised her fingers to her lips, gave a sly wink, and erupted into a small spark of fire that hovered in a twinkle of starlight. The second one followed suit, and then the third, until all six Ginny sparks danced behind his eyelids in a bright ring of fireworks, obligingly burning all thought from his skull.

An icy-cold deluge of water almost drowned him, but did him the favor of filling his lungs with cool, fresh air.

Matt struggled to sit up and was pushed flat by a firm hand. “Easy, boy.”

He blinked rapidly, lashes flicking off droplets of water so it trickled down his cheeks in icy fingers to run through his sweat-drenched hair. He focused on the faded denim eyes with spots of rust dotted liberally throughout peering down at him. His Irish coach, Darby, gave his cheek another firm squeeze with his gnarled old fingers, followed by an affectionate pat.

Matt had known the old guy since he’d joined the team as a rookie—the first time around. They’d both been there in 1920 before it was even called the National Football League, and Darby had coached him through the 1958 NFL Championship Game—the greatest game ever played. Course they’d both been called something else back then. They’d been through several names each, but they’d always come back to the game. It wasn’t so difficult to change their appearances, but if anyone studied their past photos hard enough, there was going to be a remarkable resemblance to some of the greats. Easier for Darby to get away with, but this time around, Matt had come back as his own grandson.

Implicit trust had developed over the years, and a flicker of concern ran through Matt’s mind as the old boy frowned at him. Anxiety reflected in the ancient eyes as he leaned in closer.

Matt opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but all that came out was, “Ginny.”

Darby’s bushy white eyebrows almost covered his eyes as he screwed his forehead tighter. “Who the hell is Ginny?”

Bright white lights stabbed at the back of Matt’s eyelids, making him blink rapidly as he wondered momentarily who the hell Ginny was.

Darby pulled back, and Matt scanned the brightly lit room in an effort to find someone who would understand. “Ginny.”

“He’s concussed.” Daniel’s face filled his vision.

“Yup. Concussed,” the old boy agreed.

“Ginny.” Fireworks erupted in an explosion, and he closed his eyes and gripped the side of the bed in an effort to stay on it. The dragon churned his stomach in desperate confusion, and his head spun.

“Brain hemorrhage?” Daniel suggested.

“Nah.” The old guy poked a grizzled finger into Matt’s eye socket, almost piercing his brain as he lifted his eyelid and gazed at him. The concern in his face increased, and he leaned in. “Put the dragon away, son. There’s outsiders in the room.”

Matt relaxed and concentrated on calming the dragon, knowing what Darby had seen were the elliptical pupils that appeared at the first sign of shape-shifting.

“Ginny.” It was no longer his demand, but the beast inside wanted her near.

“She’s fine.” Daniel’s smooth Southern voice pacified him. “She’s still in the stands.”

“Let her know I’m okay.” Why he thought she would worry, he had no idea. He just knew he didn’t want her to.

“He sure as shite has it bad. Since when has he ever cared about what some chick thinks?”

The dragon gave a faint protest, and Matt opened his eyes just as he coughed out a small fireball. Darby snapped his head back to avoid it.