on to Stefan. Scanned the thick underbrush along the near edge of the pond. Keisha’s scent and the odor of fresh blood were strong, her fear and anger a palpable thing. Where are you?
Near the birch stand. Low, in the bramble patch.
He found her there, curled into a tight ball, her blood dripping steadily into the remnants of one last patch of crusty snow. She’d packed the shallow wound in her shoulder with ice, at least as well as she could in wolven form. Tiny crystals tinged with blood clung to the stiff whiskers along her muzzle.
Anton inspected the wound, licked the matted fur around it, grabbed a mouthful of ice and pushed it tightly against the seeping gash. Thank goodness, it didn’t appear life threatening.
He licked Keisha’s muzzle, wiping away the bloody snow with a careful swipe of his tongue. I should kill them. They need to die. Anton’s thought ended on a snarl of pure rage.
No, you should have them arrested. They’re idiots. Let the law deal with them.
Keisha’s calm statement helped slow his racing heart. Still, he growled, unwilling to concede too easily. I will, but I don’t have to like it. I’d rather kill them.
Keisha raised her head and glowered at him through eyes shimmering with pain. Sighing, Anton nuzzled her once more and waited impatiently for Stefan to arrive with clothing for both of them…hopefully before Xandi brought the sheriff.
This made the third set of poachers on their land this season—all of them hunting wolves.
Naked, Keisha sat on the toilet seat lid, hunched over in pain and seething with anger while Anton cleaned the shallow gash across her left shoulder. Her body trembled, a delayed reaction to the shooting.
Stefan and Xandi would be back later. They’d followed the sheriff into town to give more of a statement after one of his deputies had taken Keisha and Anton’s. Now, alone here with Anton, Keisha felt the full impact of the night’s attack.
“Are you sure you don’t want to see the doctor?” Anton’s fingers caught her gently under the chin and lifted, forcing her to face him. “It’s not all that deep, but it could leave a scar.”
“Then it leaves a scar. I’ll be fine. Damn them. I hope they rot in jail.” Her voice shook, but it was rage, not pain that had her hanging on the edge of tears. “Somebody put them up to this. They were too stupid to come here on their own. I just know it.”
Anton placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I agree. I just wish we knew who it was. I doubt those men know enough to shed any light on the situation. Unfortunately, I imagine an attorney will have them out of jail in a few hours.”
“Well, I’ll be long gone. I’m planning to leave for San Francisco the day after tomorrow. I’ve already got my flight arranged.” Keisha tilted her head, daring him, waiting for his argument. Anton’s eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he carefully bandaged Keisha’s wound and drew her slowly into his arms.
She went willingly, inhaling the musky scent that was all Anton’s, reveling in the strength of his embrace, the deep sense of love and safety that surrounded him. It would be so easy to lose herself in Anton’s arms, to forget the memorial, the dedication, the fact that someone hunted her as if she were nothing more than a wild beast.
So easy to forget the danger when Anton held her tight.
“I was terrified when I heard your warning of danger, when I sensed your fear.” Anton’s voice cracked on the words and a deep shudder passed through his body. Keisha clung to him, suddenly awash with guilt. She’d been thinking only of herself, of her desire to see the job through. What if it had been Anton wounded today? What if she’d followed his blood on the trail? Found him curled up in a ball of pain, hurting and frightened?
Could she have controlled her rage as well as Anton did? Would she have even tried? It hit her like an epiphany, the explosive awareness of how wild her nature had become since embracing her Chanku heritage. Keisha accepted a new reality—if Anton had been the one injured, the two shooters wouldn’t have survived long enough to go to jail. She’d killed men before. As much as she abhorred violence, she could do it again if her mate were threatened.
It took her a moment to tamp down the rush of bloodlust that almost swamped her. Finally, she swallowed back a growl and nuzzled close to Anton’s chest. “I wasn’t afraid, not once I knew you were close.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and rose up on her toes to kiss him. “I’m never afraid when you’re with me.”
Anton groaned, the sound a sensual rumble against her breasts. Keisha whimpered, a tiny, needy sound deep in her throat. She inhaled his scent, drawing strength from his warmth and innate power. She rocked her hips close to his, rubbed her mons over the smooth fabric of his pants.
Anton groaned, then kissed her hard, his tongue plundering, his teeth scraping her lips, along her jaw, nipping at her with a wild frenzy. His lips demanded. His hands raced across her back, over her breasts, swept down to her buttocks where he grabbed her with bruising strength and pressed her body closer to his.
Caught in his feverish desire, Keisha cried out against his mouth. She felt the heat of his erection through his black chinos, the hard edge of his belt buckle abrading her belly. The flap of fabric over his bulging zipper pressed against her swollen clit. His tongue found its way once more between her lips and he caught her up in a swift and carnal rhythm, plunging into her mouth, lifting her body hard against his.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and pressed her pussy close against his straining cock, but it wasn’t enough, not nearly enough to soothe the fire raging hot and wild inside.
Keisha writhed in Anton’s powerful grasp, all the anger and pain, the fear and frustration of the past few hours coalescing into heat and passion, need of an almost feral intensity, driving her heart, inflating her lungs, making her gasp as if she’d run miles. Keisha lowered her legs, planted her feet firmly on the tile floor and let go of Anton’s neck, then grabbed at the hem of his sweater. She raked her fingernails over his ribs as she tugged the garment past his head.
The moment he shed the sweater, Anton dragged her against him for a deep, tongue-twisting, mind-searing kiss. Gasping for air, he backed away and stared deeply into her eyes, his nostrils flaring, his dark pupils narrow slits, dark shards of obsidian surrounded in amber.
Keisha reached for his thoughts and found them blocked, surrounded by something dark and impenetrable. Whatever he felt for her, whatever he thought of her, remained hidden behind those watchful eyes.
Fingers trembling, Keisha raised her right hand and touched Anton’s cheek. He turned and kissed her palm, groaning once again. She felt the press of his lips all the way to her womb. The tight clenching of her vaginal walls, the rush of welcoming fluids, the ache deep within her gut wrung a cry from her lips and she thrust her breasts against his bare chest, rubbing her sensitive nipples in the thick mat of his dark hair.
Anton nipped her palm, took a deep breath, then grabbed Keisha by the hips and spun her around, pressing her belly against the cool tile surrounding the bathroom sink. Shoving the first aid kit aside, she spread her palms wide and braced herself on the counter. With his left hand in the small of her back holding her down, Anton found her wet and waiting pussy with the fingers of his right.
He thrust two fingers, then three inside, slipping easily into her drenched pussy, stroking her inner walls, trailing his thumb lightly across her anus, then pressing harder, finding entrance there as well.
