Lilith Saintcrow: Taken

Her lips were dry, and slightly parted. She looked at him for a long time, her gray gaze steady.

Zach stood, frozen in place. Was she disgusted? Still frightened of him? Angry? Had he tried to hurt her? Brun said he hadn’t, but you never knew, with the Rage burning in your veins. She probably hadn’t had any idea how to handle it—but she’d brought him out, hadn’t she?

Silence stretched between them, the animal shifting restlessly inside his bones.

When she pushed the covers back he almost tripped over himself getting to the side of the bed. “Take it easy, Sophie. Just take it real—”

“To hell with taking it easy.” She sounded hoarse but steady. “I want a shower and a toothbrush and some fresh clothes. I feel greasy.”

She sounds fine. Thank God.

“Okay.” He tried not to look at the tank top, all rucked up under her breasts and exposing a slice of perfect pale belly-curve. She looked so soft . And one of her hips hitched just a little, a lovely seashell. “I, um—”

She put her hands up, and he caught them reflexively. “Go easy on me, Zach. I feel like I’ve been pulled apart and put back together wrong.”

“Sophie—” Where was he going to begin? With, I’m sorry? With, Are you all right? He braced her as she rose slowly, groaning, from the bed’s embrace.

One little bare foot touched the floor, then the other. She spilled into his arms like grace itself, smelling of musk, the faint, fading trace of pain and exhaustion washed away by the cold moonlight of a shaman. She sighed and leaned into him, and the rage retreated.

He felt like himself again for the first time in days.

“Hello,” she said to his chest. “It’s good to see you.”

Did she mean it? He only had the vaguest crimson-tinted memories of bursting into a dark confined space, the stink of murder all around him, clinging to his fur, and—

“Are you all right?” he managed. Everything else he wanted to say congealed in a lump right behind his Adam’s apple.

“I need a shower. And a change of clothes. And breakfast. I’m dying for some coffee.” She rubbed her chin against his T-shirt, and he had to swallow dryly. “Sophie, I—” I went right over the edge. What did you see me do?

“They say you think I’m your mate.” Her head tipped back, and without the glasses she looked even softer. He couldn’t decide which way he liked her more. Curls fell in her face, and even unwashed and sleepy-eyed she was just about the most delicious thing he’d ever seen. “And that you killed a lot of vampires to get me out of there.”

“Um.” Words deserted him.

“That was my ex-husband.” A shadow passed over her face, a devouring sadness. “He wanted to murder me. I guess he always wanted that.”

You never have to worry about that again. Anyone so much as breathes at you wrong, I’ll hand them their spleen. “Sophie—”

“You’re no prize,” she continued. “You kidnapped me, dragged me all over town, and your social skills are so totally nonexistent.”

Oh, Christ. His entire body had turned to lead. “I—”

“Will you shut up? As I was saying…” She coughed a little, leaned farther into him. Her softness short-circuited his brain, but also soothed the animal. It curled up, satisfied, at the very bottom of his mind. “You’re an arrogant werewolf and a kidnapper. But I’ve never had very good taste in men. I guess Mark was proof of that.”

His arms were around her. She was leaning into him in a most definite way, and his stupid body was taking notice.

“Lucy told me it was time to get back into the dating pool, and I suppose I could do worse than a man who saved my life. But we’re going to have to talk about your social skills. And Julia, too. She’s spoiled and neglected at the same time, and…” She coughed again. “But we’ll take care of that in a little while. Right now I need a shower, and you can get me some coffee.”

What?

She was still leaning on him. “I feel amazingly good, all things considered. A bit sore. How long was I out?”

“Um.” Two days. “I, uh…” Where had all the wisecracking like a teenager gone?

She pushed at him, gently, and he let her go. His arms didn’t want to relax. They fell at his sides like two pieces of wood.

Watching her take two steps back and gingerly turn away was like being fifteen and lonely again. Those curls were a messy glory, and she was wearing a pair of boxers. There was a fading bruise on her calf that begged to be kissed, just like the curve of her lower back peeping out from under the tank top.

That made the animal take notice, in a drowsy, sated way.

She paused at the door, her hand on the knob. Looked back over her shoulder. “How long? And is there any coffee?”

He was suddenly very sure he didn’t want her to step outside this room. All the coffee you want. Just don’t leave us. Don’t leave me. “Coffee. Yeah, there’s some.”

“And some clothes that don’t smell like vampire?”

His hands curled into fists. The thought of upir threatened to bring the rage back. The animal in him perked its ears, bared its long muzzle.

“Hey.” She came back, padding on those cute little bare feet, and the smell of her washed over him again. It wasn’t familiar, and he had to concentrate for a long syrup-stretching moment before he realized why.

She didn’t reek of fear. Not anymore.

“Zach?” Uncertain now. She stopped a few feet away. He had to look at the square of pale winter sunlight she was standing in, or he was going to do something unforgivable.

Like grab her and show her just how happy he was she was awake and alive. Like kiss her again. Like push her back down on the bed and get to know her in the best way.

“Don’t leave us.” The words were raw. “You’re our shaman. Don’t leave us. Don’t leave me .”

“Zach—”

“You’ve seen what we are now. What I am. We were doing the best we could, Sophie. We need you. I—”

Her hand clapped over his mouth. Warm, soft skin. She was so close he could feel the heat of her, and touching him. “Shut up.” She looked thin and tired, and absolutely beautiful. “I know you need me. The majir told me. They told me about your little brother playing with the matches, too, while your parents were sleeping. That was what started the fire. You never told anyone, and he always wondered if you knew. Both of you felt guilty. And now you wonder if you were too late and too slow because you loved him so much, but you hated having to keep the secret, too.”

His shoulders slumped. He stared at her.

Her mouth drew against itself, the sadness and listening look almost too much to stand. “That was why you never took the alpha.”

His eyes were hot, and incredibly full. Sunlight gilded her, turned her into a statue of living warmth.

“We both know about keeping secrets. I guess we’re more alike than I thought. Now do me a favor and stop worrying. I’m going to learn how to be your shaman, and I’m going to do my best to keep you all together. You just keep your temper, and we’ll get along just fine. All right?”

Keep my temper? Yeah. That’ll be the day.

But he wanted to. If it would keep her around, he’d keep all the temper she wanted.

Her fingers loosened over his mouth. He reached up, caught her wrist, and pressed his lips against her palm. Stubble rasped—he hadn’t had a chance to shave yet.

He hadn’t wanted to leave her alone.

She swallowed, and the sudden wash of coppery heat through her scent told him she wasn’t immune to him. It was a good sign.