Chapter 19
Just as before, she'd run, but he would not let her die again. He began battling the current to get to the shore. Freed of the river, he tossed her to the bank, feeling her for injuries. He found none.
- She's safe. -
His female... unharmed. Over and over she'd been in jeopardy - his heart about to burst from his chest each time - yet somehow, in all that chaos, he'd kept her from injury.
She went to her hands and knees, but didn't get far before collapsing onto her front. He dropped behind her, fighting to catch his breath. He'd been shot more times than he'd thought, but hadn't felt them before. Now the wounds were taking their toll.
How long they lay like this, he didn't know. Yet when the rain eased and the moon rose high, his female's scent became undeniable.
Resisting the need... the driving urges... struggling to ignore the Instinct:
- Claim what's yours. She's strong. -
Strong, yes, but she was also disgusted by what he was - he'd seen the undisguised revulsion in her dazed expression even before she'd risked her life fleeing him.
Again.
He closed his eyes, hating to the gods what he was -
She leapt up and darted forward, shocking him with her speed.
He labored to rise. The bullets lodged in his body stabbed like daggers. "No, doona run from me!"
Running from him... worst thing she could do... making him even wilder with her. He easily caught up to her, then tensed to spring. He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to clamp her ankle.
She screamed when he dragged her down to him.
In the mud, Mari crawled frantically, but he had a vise grip on her ankle.
"You canna run... " he grated with difficulty from behind her.
The hell she couldn't. Mari kicked back with her boot, the heel connecting squarely with the side of his face. Yet in retaliation he only growled low, smacked her on the ass, and spit out the back tooth she'd knocked loose. There was none of the fury she expected.
She slowed her struggles, so afraid to look back...
When she chanced a glance, she found that the rain and the river had washed clean the blood from his mouth, his face, and his clenched hands and claws. His pale eyes met hers - the brutal rage she'd seen in him had ebbed.
His features didn't appear so gruesome to her. No longer did he seem like a monster - only a now unfamiliar male, one with an animal need to claim what he viewed as his to take.
"Doona run from me... "
She eased her body toward him, seeming to confound him. "I won't." At her words, his eyes lit somehow with both relief and anguish. "I've just... I'd never seen anything like you - and I was frightened."
"Should be... if you knew what I need, what I intend... tae do... " His hand shot forward to claw off her shorts.
"No, damn it! Just give me - give me a minute to process all this!"
When he forced her beneath him and began biting off her shirt, she screamed, "No!"
Light exploded. Power emitted from her hands and eyes, briefly blinding her. When she blinked her eyes open, they went wide. As if bound, MacRieve was pressed against a great ceiba tree, arms pinned back until his palms rested on the thick trunk behind him.
Holy hell.
He thrashed to free himself, his claws digging down into the striated bark. But whatever binding she'd used on him held firm. "Don't struggle - you can't get free. You'll just hurt yourself." When she realized he wasn't fighting only against her magick but against turning completely, she unsteadily rose and crossed to him. "Why do you fight it still?"
His eyes were so full of yearning. "Want you."
When she could drag her gaze from his face, she saw his clothing was riddled with holes. "Oh, gods, you've been shot! How many damned times - How could you hold the truck? And get us out of the river?"
As though with pride, his chin jutted up just a touch. "Keep you safe."
And her heart melted for this beast.
"You did, Bowen. You freed me and kept me safe." The carnage had all been to protect her - brought on because those men had planned to hurt her again and again. Bowen had killed so savagely only for her. Now she wanted to protect him as well, to heal the countless injuries he'd borne for her. "Can I use more magick on you?"
He eagerly nodded. "Knock me... unconscious... bash my head against a rock... know you can."
"That wasn't quite what I had in mind." She thought they'd been washed downstream far enough away from the bunker but still asked, "Would you scent if men got near us?"
"Aye. No one comes near you."
She nodded. "Bowen, I'm going to keep you like this for a little bit, okay?" she murmured as she began removing his clothes. When she stripped him of his bullet-riddled shirt, she realized that she could move his limbs and hands, positioning them at will - though he still couldn't.
This was some heady magick. She felt powerful and in control - such a change from how she'd felt fleeing Bowen, or when she'd been forced at gunpoint to that dismal bunker.
She removed his boots, then very carefully undid the bulging zipper of his jeans. She could perceive his body quaking with anticipation, could hear low growls rumbling from his chest as his erection sprang forth. The crown was glistening, the shaft engorged and straining toward her. As she worked down his jeans, her hair slid over it, and he gave a harsh gasp.
Once he was unclothed, she began rubbing his skin with sweeping strokes, as she'd seen other witches do for a healing. Over each of the wounds, her hands turned hot. She knew that she was healing him, somehow melting away the bullets. Her eyes fluttered closed at the strange - but not unpleasant - sensation. When she moved her hand from an area, she left only smooth, unbroken skin behind.