EnemyMine (5 page)

Despite the fact everyone in the vehicle could hear
him—regardless that she wasn’t awake to accept the apology—he wasn’t too proud
to whisper, “I’m sorry, angel eyes.”

He said a silent prayer she would offer forgiveness, get
past her fear of what he was and accept their life together.

Even if, deep down, he knew what he was asking for was too
much.

Chapter Two

Mary kept her eyes closed as she slowly came to awareness.
Reality merged with dreams, nightmares of her capture and torment months ago
followed by flashes of being chased and hunted down by her family.
Unexpectedly, Emory had appeared. He wasn’t as scary as she’d once thought. In
this dream he was her savior, not her enemy. He’d cradled her to his body,
whispering reassurances she didn’t understand. The dreams were so different
than the others, when she watched him change into a hideous creature with fangs
and claws. Now he was only a man who looked at her as if she were precious,
something he didn’t want to let slip away a second time.

Somehow she found the courage to open her eyes.

If the softness of the mattress and feather comforter
cushioning her body didn’t inform her she wasn’t in her bed, the clean ceiling
and gossamer curtains flittering in a window to her left did. The room was
immaculate, done primarily in white, and there wasn’t a cobweb or crusty,
peeled wallpaper in sight. Fading sunlight cast a dull orange glow over the
room, informing Mary it would be dark soon.

“You’re finally awake.”

Mary lifted onto her elbows to face the person who’d spoken,
only to wince and touch the tender spot along the side of her head. The female
seated in a chair across the room was tiny, nothing more than delicate features
and huge blue eyes. Her light blonde hair was trimmed into a pixie cut and
tufts of dark pink were scattered along the top. The stranger rose and the
motion only emphasized just how petite she was, standing at no more than five
feet tall.

“Who are you?” Mary forced her voice to remain level despite
the fact that she was shaking. “Where am I?”

“My name is Ava.” The teeny blonde goddess sat on the edge
of the bed. “And you’re in my home. No one will harm you here, Mary. You have
my word.”

“I didn’t tell you my name.” Survival instincts had Mary
ready to bolt. She grasped the comforter and prepared to slide out of the bed
to make a run for it.

“No, you didn’t.” Ava smiled.

“Then what did you do? Pull it out of thin air?”

To Mary’s surprise, Ava laughed. “I suppose I could have but
no. Emory told me.”

“Emory?” Portions of her dream resurfaced—of Emory’s face,
of his scent, of the way he felt with his arms around her.

“Yes, Emory.” There was amusement in Ava’s expression.

“I thought it was a dream.” Mary gently prodded the wound on
her head, paying attention to the neat row of sutures. “I can’t piece
everything together.”

“Doc decided it was best to keep you under for a while. He
was worried you’d hurt yourself if you panicked.”

“Doc?”

Ava smiled. “Our doctor.”

“He patched me up?”

Ava nodded. “Four sutures, to be precise.” She exhaled
slowly and peered through her lashes at Mary. “You’re extremely lucky. If the
pack hadn’t found you when they did you wouldn’t have made it.”

Pack
. One word had her heart pounding and made her
palms clammy. It was true she’d been terrified of shifters before she
discovered that monsters came in all shapes and forms—and not all of them grew
fur or sprouted claws. Mary glanced at Ava. Of all the shifters she’d seen at
her uncle’s home, none had been so small. Was Ava some kind of rodent shifter?

Do those even exist?

Ava burst out laughing and Mary moved farther away, scooting
to the edge of the mattress. Maybe the woman was insane. It would explain the
pink hair and the odd smile on her face. She certainly didn’t act normal.
Despite Ava’s reassurances that her home was safe, it was definitely time to
get a move on.

To her stunned amazement, Ava’s laughter died and her face
became serious. “Don’t even think about trying to leave. You have no idea the
damage you caused when you left Emory but believe me when I tell you if you run
he will follow. There is nowhere you can go he won’t find you. You need to
accept that your life is about to change. As much as it sucks to tell you that,
I don’t want to waste time shitting you. Take everything you think you know and
toss it out the window. Nothing is what it seems.”

“And how would you know?” Mary slipped from the bed and
wobbled when her bare feet touched the cool wood flooring. “Things must seem
pretty clear from your side of the fence.”

Ava arched a perfectly shaped brow. “My side of the fence?”

“The shifter side.” Mary glanced around, searching for her
clothes. “What was I thinking? I can’t believe you’d even consider having me in
your home. Not with what I am.”

“And what are you?”

“Are you being intentionally stupid?” Mary placed her hands
on her hips and tried not to be embarrassed that she was clothed in nothing
more than her underwear and a T-shirt. “Does the word Shepherd ring a bell? Or
did Emory leave that part out?”

And if he saved me, why isn’t he here? Why wasn’t he
waiting in the room when I woke up? Did he leave me? Is this some kind of
revenge? Does he expect me to pay for what I’ve done?

“Shepherd is nothing more than a name. The people who are
born with it choose their own destiny. You of all people should know that. I
wouldn’t judge—”

Whatever Ava was going to say didn’t come. It was like
watching a scene in
The Twilight Zone
. One minute the teeny woman had
advice to impart, the next she turned to the door as if she expected someone to
step inside.

Within seconds, someone did.

Emory.

Oh God.

Mary’s knees almost caved when she saw him in all his glory,
his body and face clearly identifiable in the light radiating through the
window. How in the hell had she forgotten how big he was? Six foot three and
all muscles, rigid planes and hard lines. The dark stubble on his face made him
mysterious yet sexy, matching the hair that was brushed away from his face.
There was concern in his light brown eyes, as well as a heat she’d seen aimed
in her direction a time or two in the past. He walked toward her—no, he
prowled—each step deliberate and as smooth as butter.

He frowned when he saw her. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.
Doc hasn’t put you in the clear.”

Who cared if an inner warning screamed he wasn’t entirely a
man? At the present moment all she could think about was the way he talked, of
the husky cadence of his words. His voice was the aphrodisiac she remembered,
sending waves of fire from her belly to areas of her body she’d never dared
touch or explore. Her nipples tingled, hardened and formed jutting points as a
wet heat built between her thighs.

Knock it off!
She shifted her legs together as she
backed her way toward the wall.
You haven’t seen him in months. After the
way you treated him, you have no idea if he’s even interested anymore. He saved
you. He didn’t promise you the world.

Fear crashed into her as she dredged up the memory of
screaming in his face, terrified of the changes in his features. The reminder
removed any trace of her growing desire. What if he harbored a grudge? What if
he was angry for what she’d done? Maybe he thought he could get to her family
through her? He had no idea of the horrors she’d endured once she’d returned
home and learned how demented her uncle and her relatives were. Although he’d
found her living elsewhere—something else she didn’t fully understand—he
couldn’t possibly know why she’d run or how difficult it had been to escape the
farm in Colorado.

“Easy there, angel eyes,” he murmured in a placating tone
and stepped around the bed, continuing in her direction. “No one’s going to
hurt you.”

Angel eyes.

She closed her eyes, remembering the first time he’d called
her that. She’d argued that angels had blue eyes, not brown, but he’d insisted
that her eyes and face were those of an angel. It had been the first strike in
her emotional armor, allowing him to snake his way into her heart. Not long
after she was silly putty in his hands.

When she felt fingers gently twine around her wrist, she
gasped and her eyes flew open. Emory was even bigger up close. The black
T-shirt covering his torso was drawn tight over the muscles beneath, revealing
the outline of his pecs as well as the defined six-pack abs below. She kept her
gaze level on his chest, afraid to meet his eyes. Her breathing was stinted but
she could still smell him. It shouldn’t be legal for a man to smell so good—all
clean, seductive and undeniably Emory.

Mortification swept through her when he touched her cheek
and she flinched. She’d been hit in the face so many times it was instinctive
to move away, to keep a safe distance.

“Ava,” Emory said, the word coming out as a low growl, and
Mary had to force aside panic in order to remain still and passive in his
grasp, “it’s time for you to go.”

“Okay.” Ava didn’t sound certain about being asked to leave,
which only increased Mary’s alarm. “If you need me, I’ll be downstairs.”

Soft footsteps, the creak of a door opening and closing and
Ava was gone—leaving Mary alone with one hell of a large shifter male who might
just want her dead.

Don’t freak out. Don’t lose it. Just breathe.

“Shh,” Emory whispered and pulled her to his chest.

She wasn’t sure why he was comforting her until she realized
she was whimpering. The sound made her sick and took her to dark places she
wanted to forget—memories of pain, loss and terror. Tears stung her eyes but
she didn’t allow them to fall. Instead she sagged into Emory’s chest, leaning
on his strength, allowing him to shelter her from the world if only for a short
time. He ran his hands along her spine in a light motion, traveling from her
nape to the indentions above her buttocks. A spike of electricity shot through
her, following the gliding brush of his fingers.

“No one will harm you.” Anger was in his voice and she
wondered what had put it there. “I swear.”

“Not even you?” She wanted to take what she said back as
soon as she heard herself speak. The arms around her became tense and Emory’s
chest went still, as if he was holding his breath. After several seconds he
relaxed, stepped back and placed his hands on each side of her face. She froze
when he lifted her chin and she met his gaze. His irises were mesmerizing,
brown with radiant amber centers.

“I can’t change what I am but you have no reason to fear me
or mine. None of us will ever hurt you—especially me. You’re as essential to me
as the air I breathe. Without you, I’m nothing.”

The intensity in his expression eradicated any rational
thought. If he was lying, he was an expert in the craft. With the way he looked
at her, she believed what he said, took it as gospel and not idle pillow talk.
Despite their history, no matter what had occurred in the past or waited for
them in the future, his feelings apparently hadn’t changed.

Heaven help her. Maybe she was deluding herself because she
wanted to believe he still wanted her,
yearned
for her. Prior to
learning he was a shifter, she’d imagined going to her knees before him, giving
him total control, allowing him to teach her all of the ways to give and
receive pleasure. Yes, when she’d learned what he was—half man, half wolf—she’d
been scared of him. Who wouldn’t be? The discovery had been a shock, something
she didn’t want to believe.

But now…

Now it wasn’t fear she was experiencing.

She’d always been attracted to Emory, had wondered as she
lay awake in her bed alone and restless what it would be like to spend a night
in his arms. Girlish daydreams had merged with the fantasies of a woman
full-grown. Her virgin status was only due to the death of her parents and the
strict upbringing after their loss. Now she wasn’t an innocent, wide-eyed
schoolgirl. She’d seen and done things that had made her grow up hard and fast.

His warm breath caressed her lips as his mouth hovered over
hers. “Mary…”

It wasn’t the lust in his gaze that caused her to shiver, it
was the way he said her name, as though he were drowning in tempestuous waters
and it was the last word he’d share with the world before he sank beneath the
surface. She waited, trembling in his arms. Before he closed the distance and
kissed her, she closed her eyes. There was more than physical desire in his
expressive, amber-hued irises. Something she wanted to see and therefore
worried might be a figment of her imagination.

Once she gave herself over to Emory, she had a feeling there
was no going back—not for her, at least. Despite knowing about the existence of
shifters, she didn’t know about or understand the eccentricities involved when
they dated, had sex or lavished affection on the opposite sex. If Emory was
more beast than man, her heart would be broken when he got what he wanted and
moved on.

And there would be no one to blame but herself.

The kiss was a chaste meeting of their lips, the touch
feather light. He moved his head from side to side—left, right then back again.
Their noses brushed with the motion, the coarse whiskers on his chin slightly
chafing her skin. She moaned at the sensation, squirming in his embrace.

“Open for me,” he exhaled in a throaty rasp, brought his
hand to her face and ran his fingers through the hair at her nape. The instant
she obeyed the order his tongue plunged past her parted lips and delved inside.
Everything around them became a blur. The floor felt as if it shifted beneath
her feet and she clutched at Emory’s wide shoulders to remain standing. His
chest vibrated as he growled and buried his fingers into her hip, his hold
changing from cautious to possessive.

This was the danger of the man before her. In his presence
she didn’t care about the future, the past or the consequences of her actions.
Unlike the shifters who made her wary, he created a thrill and excitement she
didn’t fully comprehend. With him she felt safe—
complete
. Emory was like
the sun, burning bright enough to chase away the shadows, until her entire
focus was on him and him alone.