Allister, J. Rose - Discarded Cowboys [Lone Wolves of Shay Falls 2] (Siren Publishing Ménage Amour) (3 page)
Authors: J. Rose Allister
She felt the sharp, silver blade dig painfully into her skin. A warm, wet drip slid down into the hollow between her collarbones. Her father had actually drawn blood on her. The knife was pressed so tight that she dared not give in to her nervous quiver, let alone swallow. God, would he really do it?
Tears blurred her vision of Russell’s murderous expression. “Better hurry,” Zakono said. “My hand is getting tired.”
Russell’s nostrils flared as he hesitated. Then he turned back to the cage. The blond was still at the door, gripping the bars. “Step aside,” Russell said in a shaky voice.
“Hell no, I ain’t,” the blond said. “Let ’em slit each other’s throats for all I care. I’m gettin’ out of this monkey cage.”
“You best stop him if he tries,” Zakono warned. “He might accidentally bump me on the way out.”
“Don’t listen to his bullshit,” the other told Russell. “And so what if I bump him? What do you care if a dirty Romani dies?”
She heard Russell let out a low, throaty growl. “Call my mate that again, and you’ll find out. Now back the
fuck
off.”
When she blinked away the fuzzy view through her tears, she saw the other man’s demeanor had changed. The blond’s gaze flicked to her, then Russell. Finally, he stepped back. “Fine. Come on in and join the party, Russell Adam Stevens. Two wolves are better than one.”
She stared at the man, wondering about his dizzying about-face. Was it a trick?
“And what’s your name, blondie?” Russell said. “Vanilla Ice?”
“Drew,” the blond said. “Or should I say, Drew Allen Charles?”
“Enough,” Zakono shouted. “Get in.”
“I need the keys,” Russell said over his shoulder.
Her father tossed them from behind her, and with dead-on precision, Russell caught them midair. With such surefire reflexes, it seemed impossible to believe that he had been clumsy enough to fall from a tree right in her path.
Or had it been fate?
The cage door creaked open, and without another word, Russell stepped inside. The other man—Drew—made no move to rush the door.
“Shut yourself in and lock it,” Zakono said.
A muscle in Russell’s jaw twitched, but he did as instructed. He threw back the keys, which sailed through the air. Her father’s reflexes weren’t quite equal to the task, and the ring landed with a loud clatter on the ramp. The second she felt his hold loosen, she twisted free of his grip and shoved herself back. Whirling on her father, she had a stray memory of the man who’d once bounced her on his knee and promised he would never let anything harm her.
“Don’t give me that look, Talaitha,” he said. “I only did what was necessary.”
“Yeah,
Talaitha,
don’t waste the energy.” The sound of her name on Russell’s lips echoed through her strangely. “He wouldn’t really have hurt you.”
The look Zakono leveled on Russell made her wonder. “I would do a lot of things that may surprise you.”
“Like father, like daughter, then,” Russell said, turning to her. “Your lie surprised me, that’s for damn sure. I can’t believe you tricked me with some phony full moon spell.”
“Oh, she wasn’t lying about that,” Zakono said. “There is a full moon spell. It just doesn’t do what you thought it did.”
He fell into the Romani tongue, murmuring the incantation in a rhythmic, threatening tone. With a gesture he waved at the blond man, who immediately fell straight down in a heap. Or rather, that was the way it looked at first glance. In reality, his body shrank into his wolf form, with fur as pale as his bleached hair.
“There, you see?” Zakono went on. “The full moon spell has the power to force your vile darkness to the surface whenever we choose.”
“So, it isn’t a cure.” The still-naked man stared at the wolf sitting on its haunches beside him. The animal blinked, clearly stunned. Then Russell turned back to Talaitha with an open glimmer of hurt in his eyes. “I can’t believe I trusted you.” He grabbed at the bars and shook them. “That
this
was what you had planned.”
The accusation shouldn’t have jabbed like a spear thrust. She barely knew him—and he was cursed.
Wrong.
But that didn’t stop his words from twisting inside her until she felt nearly sick.
“Never trust a pretty face,” her father said, taking hold of her chin. “Her husband found that out firsthand. Didn’t he,
bedako
?”
She yanked her head from his grasp while Russell scowled. “Husband?” His eyes glowed brighter gold, and she reflexively flinched. “You’re married?”
Zakono growled. “A long story that is not for gadje ears. Not that you are even as good as a gadje.” He spat on the ground.
“Prastlo rikono.”
“No idea what a ‘praso loco’ is, but it sounds bad,” Russell said, his eyes sparking with danger. “Sounds like your father don’t approve of me, darlin’. But either way, you and I have a destiny. And a lot of talkin’ to do.”
“You are finished talking,” Zakono said before she could answer. “And a murderous, damned dog has no destiny with my daughter. Does he, Talaitha?”
Her heart was beating so fast she felt her head grow light. “Of course not.”
“In fact,” her father went on, “perhaps you should join your new friend on all fours. You’ll be spending quite a lot of time together.”
He made another gesture and muttered some words, and Russell shrank into a reddish-brown wolf. The animal leaned forward, pressing its nose to the bars with a slight whimper.
Her father snorted. “Much better.” He turned to Talaitha, who stepped up the ramp away from him. “Now, my daughter, I’m sure the women are wondering what’s keeping you from your duties. Unfortunately, you have touched filth. You are
marime
now and cannot aid in meal preparations. You must be separated until the proper cleansing rituals have been observed.”
She lifted her chin. “And you have touched me, so you are unclean, too.” Perhaps in more ways than she had ever before considered of him. “You must also remove yourself.”
He grunted. “And I would do so again, if need be. Don’t fret, daughter. You have done well today—surprisingly so. Quite impressive, leading this
ruv
right to our camp without a struggle. Now we have two of the moon-cursed to use. It seems your insight in selecting this location has proven quite perceptive.”
He held out a hand to gesture her down the ramp, and with one final glance back at the wolves standing at the front of the cage, staring at her, she walked away.
Chapter Two
The voice came from just outside her consciousness, drifting like a comforting, warm breeze.
“Talaitha,” it whispered. “I know you want this. I know you want me. Show me.”
She knew it was Russell without even thinking, partly because of the way her body automatically responded to the seductive cadence of his tone.
“I’m waitin’ for you, darlin’. Waitin’ for you to come to me.”
The pinch of fingers on her nipples sent a cry out of her, and her eyes flew open. She blinked rapidly, reorienting herself to the inside of the tent where she sat. Her hands fell away from the breasts she herself had been caressing during her little fantasy. She must have drifted off and dreamed of cowboy hands and Russell’s potent voice. Dreams just like these had been all-too-frequent companions in the past several years. Except she hadn’t been asleep this time, not really. Somehow, she knew the werewolf really had been calling to her.
With a little shiver, she sighed and glanced around. Talaitha hated the tent. Certain Roma customs felt a lot like exile, and considering how much she wished herself free of this life, she was not eager to undergo her least favorite tradition of all. Touching the unnatural had rendered her marime, or unclean, and as such she could not interact with the rest of the clan until she had been ritually cleansed. Contact with a werewolf would be good for several days’ worth of separation. The fact that her father, who was rarely found to be unclean, also had to separate himself offered little comfort as she sat on a cot in the large women’s tent. A neglected book lay open on her lap, its pages lit by a lantern at her side. None of the other women were in their time, so she was alone with her thoughts. They were a constant enough companion that reading had become near impossible, even if the strains of violin music weren’t distraction enough.
Gold-tinged eyes and breathtakingly perfect male bodies flashed through her mind time and again. Memories of the rich timbre of Russell’s voice murmuring her name.
Talaitha
. The word sounded like magic on his lips, a spell on her that could never be broken.
Outside, the sounds of laughter filtered through the camp. Her cheeks burned as she imagined the clan sitting around the campfire, mocking her. Being the subject of disapproving looks and whispers was nothing new, nor was banishment to the tent. Women used the tent monthly for their moon time and as necessary, unless the state of their defilement necessitated removal from each other as well. Talaitha had spent the most time here when her father sent her to the tent in disgrace after her marriage.
She picked up her book and tried to focus on the page. Words swam through her mind without meaning as she reread the same sentence three times. She had found the book at a rest stop and squirreled it away to practice her skills. Wouldn’t her father be shocked to see her reading for enjoyment? Reading hadn’t been high priority in her clan-based education. Between performances and domestic duties and setting up and breaking down camps, there had been little time for formal lessons. But during her lengthy post-wedding seclusion in the tent, she had taught herself to read and practiced writing. She’d also worked on her plan to leave this provincial, unsatisfying life. Once she could read and write proficiently, she could make her own way. She wouldn’t have to depend on anyone but herself.
With a deep sigh, she concentrated on the next sentence. When the words finally sank in, a hot flush crept over her cheeks. Her prized find was a romance novel, an ironic reminder of all the ways she was an utter failure as a woman. Nevertheless, as the heroine in her book slipped off her blouse to reveal her breasts to the hero, Talaitha flashed on an image of herself in that position. She imagined standing before Russell, her hair long and flowing instead of captured in the braid she typically wore. Russell’s piercing eyes radiated golden heat while she bared herself boldly in a wanton sexuality she could hardly fathom.
There was something terribly, drastically wrong with her. This was a fact she’d known for quite some time, one her father and the clan—the
entire
clan, before the split—had been all too happy to discuss at length. But until now, Talaitha had not taken their words as seriously as they did. Deep down, she knew there was a flicker of womanhood burning somewhere. Now, however, she knew something dark and twisted about herself.
The only man she wanted wasn’t a man at all.
I saw the way you looked at her.
Her father had guessed that Russell was attracted to her. Did he also suspect that his worse-than-spinster daughter felt that same pull? That somehow, despite what he was, she couldn’t quite snip the inexplicable thread of connection trying to tether her to a man she’d never met? Surely her father hadn’t sensed the truth, or he’d have had much more to say to her than reciting the rules of marime.
Sounds approached the tent, and Talaitha pulled herself from her thoughts to listen. There were shuffling and murmurs, followed by a cry of pain. She stiffened and then shoved her book beneath the cot blanket just as several of the women pushed their way through the tent flap. They were escorting Meriya, a young bride who was holding her swollen belly and grimacing in a way Talaitha had seen before. She was in labor, fairly well along from the looks of things.
No one seemed to notice Talaitha at first as they bustled around to get the birthing mother situated. Then, Meriya caught Talaitha’s surprised gaze. The woman’s dark eyes went wide and averted immediately as she started shouting excitedly in broken Romani.