Allister, J. Rose - Discarded Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (2 page)

The man should be dead, by all rights. Not that he was a man, strictly speaking. She knew why he survived. Why ask questions she didn’t need nor want answered?

“I wasn’t near all the way up the tree. And I come from pretty hearty stock. My ankle’s seen better days, if that makes you any happier.”

She shot him a look. “What were you doing up there, anyway?” So far as she knew, wolves weren’t into tree climbing as a hobby.

“Hidin’ from someone I didn’t want to deal with.” His tone had gone serious, but a smile brightened his features the way sunrise shines promise onto a hopelessly long night. “Lost my footin’, and next thing I knew, I woke up to a pair of mesmerizin’ brown eyes.”

She shook off the heady spell his seductive smile and pretty cowboy twang were weaving. “Who were you hiding from? Was it the other wolf?”

The smile vanished. “What do you mean, ‘other wolf’?”

She planted her feet apart to keep herself steady. “You know exactly what I mean. I know what you are.”

Now he came out from behind the bush, staring her down like a predator. A very dangerous predator with the power to render hapless female victims paralyzed—or so it seemed from the way she froze in place. His limp was pronounced, confirming his story that he’d injured his ankle, but he pressed forward. She couldn’t help but glance at what she’d been avoiding. His cock lay long and thick between powerful though scratched-up thighs, and rather than bouncing limply with each step the way the blond man’s had, this member was fairly straight and seemed to be pointing several inches ahead of him.

“I know who you are,” he said, his voice low and laced with a hint of seductive threat. “And I saw in your eyes that you know who I am, too. As for
what
I am, well, I’m gonna have to ask you what it is you think you know about that.”

Her pulse fluttered faster with each step he took, and she wondered why she didn’t turn and run. Her mind was shouting at her to do just that. But her breath was caught in her throat, and her feet were cemented to the ground. It wasn’t until he was almost close enough to reach out and touch her that she finally remembered to breathe.

“I’m hardly some ignorant tourist,” she said, her voice hoarse. “My people are Romani. I’m well-versed in your kind.”

That seemed to bring him up short, and he stopped. “That a fact? Romani.” He eyed her up and down, bringing her blood to a slow boil. “You don’t mean like Gypsies?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Try not to spit the word out like you’d almost swallowed a stinkbug.”

“I’m just a mite surprised.” His gaze slid along her white knit top and long cotton skirt. “I never realized my mate was a Gypsy. But I recognize you, all right. And I know you recognize me.”

She swallowed. “I recognize the truth about you. That’s all.”

“And what truth is that?” His voice dropped to a heated whisper as he started forward again. “That we’re destined to be together?”

She shook her head, willing her body to take flight. “No. The truth that you are a creature I could never,
would
never be with.”

Those words failed to stop him this time, and soon his inhumanly glittering eyes were mere inches from hers. “Are you so certain about that?”

His head dipped toward her, and though she licked her lips automatically, she knew she didn’t dare let him kiss her. She had to think fast, while she still could.

Her hand flew out to land on his hot chest, and she gave a firm shove. “I can help you,” she blurted out.

He wavered. “Oh, I’m sure you can.”

“My people know magic,” she stammered, wondering whether she was really about to do this. “There’s a spell that can cure you.”

The hand that was reaching for her halted. “Ain’t no
magic
cure for what I’m thinkin’ right now, darlin’.”

“It’s a full moon spell,” she went on. “A magic derived from the moon itself. The power to cure a werewolf.”

Now his hand fell straight to his side, and he stared at her for a moment. “Who says I want to be cured?”

“None of my dreams showed me the curse you’re under. I’m betting this either happened recently, or is not a destiny you wish to embrace. Maybe both.”

“So, you admit you’ve had the dreams.” He studied her face intently, and she did her best to keep a mask of calm in place. “What would I need to do for this cure?”

“Come to my camp,” she said. “I have all the supplies I need there.” Indecision seemed to flicker in his expression, and she reached out to lay a hand on his arm. “Tonight begins the full moon cycle, doesn’t it?” She spoke through gritted teeth, willing herself not to pull her hand away and stop the maddening tingles of contact shooting through her. “Just think what life would be like if you no longer had to worry about controlling the curse.”

He nodded, seeming speechless for a moment. “Finally.” He shut his eyes for a moment, as though in silent prayer. “Guess I know why a Gypsy was chosen to be my mate. Fate knew you would free me and give me my life back.”

Guilt left a bitter taste in her mouth at the almost haunted-sounding hope in his words. Still, she forced a smile onto her face. “Come with me. We made camp right through these bushes. You can be free of the curse before nightfall.”

She slid her fingers down his arm to take hold of his hand and almost wished she hadn’t. His body temperature was so warm—another hallmark of shifters—but the dampness erupting in her palm when his fingers laced hers had little to do with it. Sparks of need, of
recognition
, trailed up her arm. Every inch of her body tingled acknowledgement of their highly compatible chemistries.

“How does the spell work, exactly?” he asked as they pushed through a clump of brush.

They stepped into the clearing just as her father happened along. His dark eyes dipped straight to her and Russell’s clasped hands, slid over the shifter’s naked form, then landed on her eyes with a chaotic blend of anger and fear.

“Talaitha! What do you think you’re doing?” he asked with undisguised incredulity. “I assumed you’d gone off to start cooking with the women. Instead, I find you strolling along with this…this…” he trailed off, his face reddening unattractively.

“Papa, don’t be angry,” she said. “I found this man in the woods and offered our help to break his curse. I was about to put him in the cage so I can perform the full moon spell. To
cure
him.” She widened her eyes at the last sentence, giving her father a pointed look.

To his credit, Zakono caught on quickly. “Yes, I see. Of course.”

Her fantasy man was not similarly impressed. He yanked his hand away and turned to her. “Cage? You didn’t say nothin’ about that. I don’t do cages.”

Zakono flicked a gaze to the man. “A mere precaution only,” he said in a mock-reassuring tone. “You must understand, it is for our protection. There is a good chance you will change during the spell. It is a small price to pay for our assistance in curing you, no?”

Glittering eyes flicked wildly back and forth between Talaitha and her father, seeming to measure them both. She did her best to keep her expression neutral when the naked man’s gaze landed on her for a long moment. Finally, he relaxed. “All right.”

“Right this way,” Zakono said, affecting a tone of welcome as he started off in the direction where Talaitha knew the other werewolf was already caged. That would be interesting to explain. While she walked behind the men in silence, she considered potential explanations so they could get this other shifter into the cage with the other one without a fight. Oh, why hadn’t she thought it through before opening her mouth?

“Seems there are others of you in the area,” Zakono went on. “Another just came to us, in fact, pleading for help. He is quite distraught and upset at the moment about full moon’s approach, as I’m sure you can understand. He is desperate to be free of the curse before moonrise. We will perform the ritual on you both together.”

Talaitha blinked at her father’s quick lie. The man definitely thought fast on his feet, something she wished she had inherited.

When they approached the cage, the blond man was facing away from them, displaying perfectly round buttocks and thick, hard thighs. They were still several feet off when he whipped around to face them, and his eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of the other shifter.

“You know one another?” Zakono asked, his step wavering slightly.

The man beside her shook his head, and she stifled a sigh of relief. Good. Hopefully the caged one wouldn’t be able to relay any silent message to warn him off, the way it seemed their kind could do with others in their own packs.

“No matter,” her father went on. “You have some things in common. I’m sure you’ll be fast friends after this.”

She heard the rattle of keys while he pulled them from his pocket, and the blond heard it, too. His eyes went wide. No doubt he would charge the door the moment her father opened it.

A short metal ramp extended from the back of the trailer bed housing the cage, and Zakono waved the shifter ahead of him as they climbed it.

The caged creature cocked his head. “You’re comin’ to this willingly?”

She was surprised to note his voice held a similar Western twang to her mate’s, or rather, the man who might have been.

He nodded. “Desperately. As are you, I’m told.”

The other stared at him, clearly confused. “Is that what you were told?”

Her stomach tightened. Strangers or not, the other shifter might well reveal their trick before they could maneuver this one into the cage. Zakono moved forward with the keys, and from behind his back she saw him pull out a long glint of metal.

“You’re a damn fool,” the blond spat.

That made the man in front of her pause, stiffening.

“You never did tell me your name,” Talaitha said hurriedly, pushing in front of her father. The man turned to her, and with their relative positions on the ramp, he towered over her even more now. “I’ll need your name for the spell.”

He eyed her. “I’m Russell. Russell Steven Adams.”

The blond stepped forward, stopping halfway to the cage door. “Well, Russell Steven Adams,” he said in a sarcastic mockery of Russell’s more-pronounced drawl, “you’re a fuckin’ idiot.”

“But I am not,” Zakono said.

Her father’s quick motion startled Russell into a double take, but he was no more shocked than she was. Her father pulled hard on her long hair, exposing her throat to the cool, sharp blade he now held against it. She could feel his hot breath on her ear. “Get into the cage, dog, or I’ll slit her throat.”

She gasped in horror, and her eyes flew wide, meeting Russell’s. In contrast, his had flared into bright golden flames that were narrowed into slits. “You lied to me,” he said, and while his rabid gaze was fastened to the man behind her, she knew his words were directed at her.

“
Now
the pup catches on,” the blond said.

Russell ignored him and folded his arms. “I know you ain’t gonna harm a hair on her head. She’s your daughter.”

Zakono yanked back hard enough on her hair to unleash a sting of tears and send a yelp of pain and surprise from her throat. “You know nothing about what I am capable of,” her father said. “But I assure you, you will find out if you don’t get into that cage and see to it the other doesn’t escape in the process.”

The man made a move to hop off the ramp, but froze when the knife edge bit into Talaitha’s throat. “Don’t pretend you don’t care what happens to her,” Zakono said. “I saw the way you looked at her. It would be a shame to damage such beauty, no?”

“I could rip you in half, Gypsy.” Russell’s words froze like ice around her pounding heart.

“Not without risking my knife slipping across her throat.”