Hunter's Fall (38 page)

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Authors: Shiloh Walker

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #General, #Paranormal, #Fiction

BOOK: Hunter's Fall
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Sensing movement, he glanced up. Both Ana and Nessa. Moving toward him.
Ana pushed between him and Nessa, snarling as she shoved the other woman back.
He couldn’t hear them, not a word. Not over the blood roaring in his ears.
She’d stabbed him . . .
 
 
B
RAD caught his sister around the waist. Pressing a brotherly kiss to her temple, he said, “Back off, sis. It’s cool.”
“Cool? It’s fucking cool? How in the hell can it be cool?” she spat out. “She just stabbed him. In the fucking back!”
“He’ll be fine.” Backing away, he pulled Ana with him.
Right now, the last place he wanted to be was between this witch and the vampire behind them.
He hadn’t felt her power earlier, but now it slammed into him. Even Ana’s gift wasn’t strong enough to dull
that
kind of power. The light of this witch’s power had been damn near extinguished just moments earlier, but now . . . hell, it was like trying to look into the sun. Too bright. Too painful.
“It’s okay, Ana,” he repeated again.
She struggled and drove her elbow back into his gut. Grunting, he let her go, still keeping between Ana and the witch. “Ana—I knew this was going to happen. And trust me. Okay? Just trust me.”
 
 
N
ESSA knew the other two were there.
But they were like gnats, in her way and annoying.
And then they weren’t.
All she could see was the man.
The man with eyes that had warmed when he looked at her. A man who smiled, like she was his reason for smiling.
And then she’d stabbed him—
Stop it. He lives. You can heal him . . .
Heat gathered in her hands. She wanted to look into those eyes, but for now, she didn’t dare. Didn’t dare.
“I . . .” She licked her lips as she drew close. “I’m sorry. I can’t explain what came over me, but I . . . I can help.”
He knew what she was. He’d been there, had seen. He knew. She wouldn’t completely terrify him when she put her hands on him, healed him.
No, you did that when you stabbed him in the back.
Her hands shook, shivered so violently, they ached. “Let me help . . .”
He said something, but she didn’t hear. Couldn’t. Had to focus. On her hands. On the healing magic within them. She’d healed before. She could heal this man . . . and then maybe try to understand what was going on. Why everything inside him seemed to call to her.
Still not looking him in the eye, she placed one hand on his chest, the other at his back.
A gasp locked in her throat. Unable to stop it, she lifted her head and stared into his eyes.
Tears blinded her. Now, although she looked at him, she couldn’t see. Couldn’t see—
But she didn’t need her eyes.
All she had needed to do was touch him. To
feel
him. Inside. In that cold, dark place that had been empty, ever since he had left her.
I will come back
, he’d whispered. Had promised. And she had waited . . .
Inside her heart, something began to dance. To burn.
Through lips that trembled, she whispered his name.
“Elias . . . ? ”
A pained smile twisted his lips as he lifted a hand. He cupped her cheek in his hand. “Nessa . . . my Nessa.”
His lashes drooped and then he sighed. It rattled out of his chest and he swayed on his feet. “My beautiful, silly little witch . . .”
CHAPTER 21
 
S
HE knows me.
Dazed, wondering, Dominic stared at her face.
His chest burned and the flesh, reluctant to heal, was slowly knitting together. Silver-wrought wounds—such a pain in the ass.
Her hand covered his and she blinked, staring at him through a veil of tears. “What . . . how . . . ? ” More words rose to her throat, but she couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.
Didn’t care to . . . he was
here
. That was all that mattered, all she could think about. Nessa launched herself at him. Her arms came around him, and Dominic grunted in pain as her hand touched the edges of his wound.
She froze and then low in her chest, she started to whimper. “No . . . No, this isn’t happening—can’t be happening. Dear Lord, what have I done?”
She tore away from him. “I can heal you—I swear, I can heal this. I’ve healed worse and I can heal this . . . ”
She talked a mile a minute as she eased him to the porch floor, her hands gentle but strong. Because he wasn’t feeling entirely his best, he let her.
Plus . . . she was touching him, her hands cool, soft and quick as she eased him facedown on the porch. “I’ll heal this, Elias . . . for pity’s sake, then we’ll talk. How did this happen? How . . . ”
He lost track of her ramblings as her fingers brushed against his skin. She sank her fingers into the rip of his shirt and tore it wide open. The noise seemed terribly loud, especially now that she’d gone abruptly silent.
“Oh.” She touched him and he swore at the sheer heaven of it.
“You’re . . . You’re not bleeding,” she whispered. Her voice trembled and then firmed as she said, “It’s not bleeding. You’re . . . healing.”
Dominic rolled to his back and stared up at her.
They were alone, he realized abruptly. He didn’t even know how that had happened. Distantly, he heard a familiar, powerful engine and he figured it was Ana and Brad, speeding away into the night.
With the bodies, too, because he couldn’t see either the witch’s or wolf’s corpse.
Her blond hair tumbled in tousled waves over her shoulder and there was blood on her, in her hair, streaking her face.
She looked lovely—so lovely.
And her eyes—they were clear. Clear as the dawn. Clear as rain. Staring at him with recognition. Understanding began to glow there as she settled back on her heels.
Dominic sat up slowly, kept his hands to himself when all he wanted to do was grab. Grab, touch, take. Keep . . .
“Why are you healing?” she asked.
But she already knew the answer. He saw it in her eyes.
“You know why,” he said, shrugging. Then he swore as he remembered the wound in his back, the slowly healing flesh. The movement pulled, tore at him and he gritted his teeth until the pain eased up.
“Vampire,” she said quietly. She laced her hands together, squeezing so tight, her knuckles went white.
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Ten years ago.” Then he shoved to his feet, unable to stay there, so close, without touching her. The shirt hung in shreds from his shoulders and he used his right arm to tear it the rest of the way off before he looked back at Nessa.
Why wasn’t she touching him?
Why wasn’t he touching her?
“Does it matter?” he asked softly.
She eased closer, eyeing his mouth with something akin to curiosity. And something deeper.
His heart skipped a beat, and when she reached up, touched her fingertips to his mouth, he had to curl his hands into fists just to keep from touching her. “That you’re a vampire? Does it matter to me? Not so much,” she said, her voice absent and soft. She pressed her finger to his lower lip and Dominic turned his head away.
The feel of her, so close, the smell of her, flooding his head, it was too much. His fangs throbbed, sliding down from their sheaths.
“Look at me,” she said, her voice soft, but insistent.
“It’s better if I don’t.” He closed his eyes.
Her hand cupped his cheek, guiding his face back to hers. “Look at me,” she whispered again. Then she leaned close, so close he felt the weight of her breasts against his chest, the soft curve of her belly. “Please look at me, Elias.”
Elias—
Shit, they really did need to talk.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything. But then her lips brushed against his cheek and he shuddered. Unable to resist, he forced his lashes up and stared into her summery, soft blue eyes. Uncaring of the blood on her face, he tangled a hand in her hair and leaned close, pressing his brow to hers.
“You know me,” he muttered, his voice raspy and low.
“I know you. I’d know you anywhere.” She pressed a kiss to his lips.
Dominic chuckled against her lips, and the hope dancing inside him began to spin—ready to take flight. “You didn’t know me earlier,” he said.
“Irrelevant.” She smiled against his lips. “I know you now . . . I’ll always know you.”
She kissed him and he groaned as she delicately slid her tongue into his mouth, avoiding his fangs with ease. Then she stroked the tip of one with her tongue, and he tensed as the taste of her blood suddenly filled their kiss. But when he would have jerked away, she fisted a hand in his hair and held him still.
Strong . . . so strong. So soft.
Groaning, he closed his mouth around her tongue and sucked away those few precious drops. Under his kiss, the cut faded away, melted away, but still the taste of her blood lingered. He wanted more—needed more.
Talk—yeah, they damned well did need to talk, but he needed this now. Needed it more than he’d ever needed anything.
Tearing his mouth away, he pressed his brow to hers and whispered, “I have to make love to you. Now.”
With a smile curling her lips, she stroked a hand down his cheek. “Now sounds just fine to me.”
He swept her into his arms and strode into the house.
There were things he needed to do—there was blood on the porch, on the ground that needed to be cleaned up before it dried, and he really should have been worried that somebody had seen them, or heard them.
But all he could think about was her.
Nessa . . . this woman he’d dreamed of his entire life . . . and now she was here. In his arms.
He wanted her so bad he hurt with it, shook with it—it was a vicious, throbbing pain, in his heart, in his gut, in his cock. Making love to her once wouldn’t be enough. Twice, a hundred times, a thousand—
But instead of taking her straight to bed, he detoured to the bathroom. She was splattered with blood and sweat. Dominic couldn’t have cared less but she probably wouldn’t mind cleaning up. And he could still get his hands all over her, without pouncing on her like a savage lunatic.
He flicked on the light and settled her on the granite countertop next to the sink. Brushing her hair back, he caught her face in his hands and angled it up. Her lashes fluttered down and as he nuzzled her mouth, he whispered, “No . . . look at me. I need to see you. I need you to see me.”
Her lashes lifted slowly and summery blue eyes met his. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she said, her voice thick.
“It’s happening . . . it’s real. I couldn’t dream this. Not this.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth, biting down gently.
She shuddered.
When he pushed his tongue into her mouth, she mewled deep in her throat and arched against him. Through her clothes, through his, he could feel the heat of her body against his cooler one, warming him. He was heating rapidly—too rapidly. It felt like he had fire in his veins instead of blood.
Nessa tore her mouth away, gasping for air. A soft sound—part giggle, part sigh—escaped her and she whispered, “You might not have to breathe anymore, but I do.”
Her head was spinning, round and round like a child’s toy. Sucking in deep draughts of air didn’t help. Her head continued to spin and her heart raced . . . no. It danced. Within her chest, her heart danced. Lifting her eyes to his, she trailed her fingers across his cheek. She could feel the light growth of his beard scraping across her palm. His fangs bulged lightly behind his upper lip and his eyes, they glowed. Sunlight behind black glass . . . they glowed with warmth, love . . . all that emotion she thought she’d never have.
She laid her hands on his chest, stroking them down over the smooth lines of his body. His skin was perfect, a strange mix of pale gold and ivory—a naturally dusky skin color, but softer, somehow. Lack of sunlight would do that to a man, she knew. Back when he’d still lived as a mortal, he probably had skin of deep gold. His muscles were hard under her hands, and that incredible skin stretched over them without any flesh to spare. He’d been young when he was Changed.
Tears burned her eyes and she caught her lip in her teeth. The Change was brutal, painful. She knew—she’d seen it. More than a few died during the horrid process. She hated to think of him going through that . . . and she hadn’t been with him.
Why?
“Doesn’t matter,” she muttered, shaking her head.

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