Rebecca Zanetti - Fated

Trees surrounded them, pure safety waiting for her. If she could break his hold, she could run for the forest. She tracked the nearest trail through her peripheral vision. If she escaped that way, she’d veer into the bushes and they’d lose her.

She stumbled and fell to one knee. He yanked her to her feet and backhanded her across the face. Her head flew to the side. Apparently “unharmed” meant something different to him than it did to her. She flashed her teeth. Her daddy’d hit harder even after a three-day bender. The bastard holding her smacked her again, and while she stayed on her feet, the blow scattered her senses and the mental shields slipped away. Oh God.

A roar cascaded from the surrounding forest, and an anger not her own slammed into her with the strength of a title weight punch. Her fear morphed into pure terror.

What was coming?

The man holding her froze, scanning the thick trees. Without warning, a large blur of dark motion launched itself past her to take the prick to the ground. Blood sprayed in a graceful arc across Cara’s lower legs and adrenaline spiked her blood with a clawing need to flee. Rusty copper mixed with the clean scent of rain, and her feet refused to move.

“Talen,” she said, barely able to breathe as he rose to his full height. Blood splattered across his brutal features and over his hands, his eyes a primal gold in the strengthening rain. She gaped at the sharp fangs protruding from his mouth. They ran red. Then, the rapid sound of gunfire filled the air. Talen tackled her and she screamed. He shielded her with his body and rolled them under the car to the other side, where wet leaves crackled with their musty scent beneath them.

Protected by the SUV, Talen leapt to his feet. In a smooth, fluid motion, he threw a double-edged knife through the air. Cara shifted to peer under the carriage of the vehicle. A man collapsed to the ground with a gurgle of pain, his hand on the weapon that was buried to the hilt in his neck.

Pulling herself away from under the carriage, Cara grabbed the door handle and hauled herself to her feet, determined to flee if necessary. The safety of the forest beckoned her.

The remaining two men scrambled toward the haven. With an animalistic bellow, Talen leapt over the SUV and took the first kidnapper down with a flying tackle onto the wet leaves. His bare hands crushed the man’s neck with a loud crunch. With a final snap of Talen’s wrist, he rose and faced the remaining man, who backed up toward Cara, praying in Spanish.

Talen’s oddly glowing eyes showed no mercy as he stalked the horrified man.

“Please, don’t kill me,” the man begged as he continued to stumble backward.

“You touched what’s mine.” Talen’s voice was unnaturally guttural as he reached the man.

“No, no I didn’t,” the man protested, making the sign of the cross in the air. “I never touched her.”

“All right,” Talen said agreeably, “then you die quickly.” With one quick slice of his arm, the man’s head tumbled to the ground. Then, Talen turned toward Cara. The knife’s blade glinted silver in the emerging moonlight, its point dripping red life onto the wet earth. Blood splattered his clothes and covered his hands. Savagery was stamped into every line of his face. His fangs glistened sharp and deadly in the dusky light.

Cara’s eyes rolled back into her head, and with a small groan, she collapsed to the wet leaves.

Cara regained consciousness with a scream as Talen hefted her from the passenger seat of the SUV. He silenced her with a quick squeeze.

“Where are your fangs?” she asked groggily.

He chuckled and carried her into a small summer cabin, easily kicking the door open with one foot. He held her away from the blood coating his clothing. She looked around, struggling with reality as the lingering scent of lemon cleanser filled her nose. What had she seen? Her heart pounded while her back muscles softened in exhaustion. The conflict warring within her threatened to shut her down completely.

The living area contained a couch and huge hearth. To the left, the kitchen held avocado-colored appliances and a large, quilt-covered bed sat in the far corner. The rain continued to drum outside as Talen placed Cara on the dark leather sofa and grabbed an old towel to wipe the blood off his face.

He lit a fire, and once the logs crackled, he crouched down to her eye level and stroked the hair away from her face. “Stay here and warm up, baby. I’ll be back shortly.” Spicy pine and the dark, earthy scent of man washed over her.

“Wait.” Cara clutched his arm, her gaze on the now calm features of his face.

His eyes gentled. “I need to take the SUV back to the cabin. They’ll send reinforcements when the kidnappers don’t check in. While I’ve already left a few surprises for them, I’ll add a couple more on the car. Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon.”

“Where’s Janie?” She was almost afraid to ask.

“With my brother, Dage. She’s safe.”

“Wait. Shouldn’t we keep the SUV, just in case?” She couldn’t outrun him if necessary, she needed a vehicle.

Talen shook his head. “No. They’ll have GPS and the last thing we need is for them to track us if we run.” And, with a final kiss to her brow, he disappeared into the drilling rain.

Cara sat up wearily, her gaze on the fire. Talen had saved her life, without question—even as he sprayed blood, she’d been thankful he’d come for her. But his eyes burned brighter with brutality when he killed, which he did without a second thought, without hesitation. The last man begged for his life. Part of her wanted to run, but Talen, whatever or whoever he was, had her daughter, and she had no choice but to stay until she had Janie back.

Then she could run.

She looked around the cabin. The quaint space was entirely too secluded and with the rain drumming outside, it was entirely too intimate. Since it was late fall, there was no chance anyone else would be around. She had to find safety.

She moved toward the window, peering into the drizzly grey. The rain peppered the front porch, and a tiny green pot sitting on the railing caught her eye. Sucking in air, she threw open the door and lunged across the wooden planks to grab the plant. An ox-eyed daisy. Left outside to survive when his owners had left for the season. Ass hats.

“It’s okay,” she crooned, carrying the plant inside the now warm cabin. The daisy hadn’t flowered and its dark leaves drooped, but the nights hadn’t been cold enough yet to do any real damage. “I’ll call you Henry.” She grinned, putting the plant in the center of the table.

Her stomach rumbled. When had she last eaten? What time was it now? How she could be hungry? To get away from Talen and find Janie, she needed her strength. She began pulling open cupboards to search for food.

As Talen returned, she stirred an aromatic stew on the old stove. Maybe she wouldn’t have to kill him. He did save her after all. He walked in, and she turned from the stove, taking in his size, the raw strength swirling around him. She’d never be able to kill him—not a chance in hell. Realization settled like a boulder in her stomach, and she clenched her hands together. What should she do?

He sniffed the savory air and then grinned. “Yes, mate?” he asked with a raised eyebrow as he closed the door behind him, muffling the sound of pelting rain.

“Mate? Sounds different than wife.”

“Both apply to you, darlin’.” He removed his vest and placed his weapons on the mantel above the hearth.

“You washed the blood off,” she murmured, her spine straightening, her stance challenging. This man had her child. Did that made them allies or enemies? Either way she had to get Janie as far away from him as possible.