Clawed: Wild Things, Book 3 (15 page)

No words were needed. She understood his desire, knew his meaning behind those amber-flaked eyes. The beast within him was close to the surface. But she didn’t care.

Clutching the hair framing his face, she rocked against him, demanding all of him. He answered, pushing inside her until she was sure he could go no higher. But she was wrong.

He drew back, then pounded into her again. Again she cried out, his name dissolving into indecipherable sounds. Sweat glistened on his skin as he took her nipple in his mouth. A growl escaped him, sending sound waves to rush over her breast.

Her heart filled with the knowledge that he was the one she’d wanted, the one she’d dreamed of, the one she’d thought couldn’t exist. Her cries melted into murmurs of joy.

Slipping his hands under her arms, he leaned back on one hand, bringing her upward to sit on top of his legs. Impossibly, his shaft drove deeper inside her, rubbing against her inner sweet spot, and another orgasm swept her, taking the last of her strength. He held onto her with his other hand, supporting her as she bounced with each of his thrusts. Sweeping his tongue from one nipple to the other, he hammered into her. She laid back her head, her hair tickling her skin, and gripped his shoulders.

She inhaled, committing his scent to memory, the way his slick skin felt under her hands and against her body, the way his soft grunts accented each thrust. As blackness edged toward her, she clung to him, content to cling to him now and forever.

His release came with a giant roar that reverberated against the walls. Chloe held him as his body shuddered, first in short, quick moves and then to slower, longer ones. Sweat dripped between them to dampen the forest bed. He rested his head against her shoulder and she slid her hands along his broad shoulders to enclose him in a hug.

They stayed, together, each unmoving as their breaths slowed to normal. Time passed and yet stood still even as the shadows in the cave grew and lengthened.

Tipping her chin up, he looked at her, the amber gone from his eyes. He placed her back on the bed, smoothing the hair away from her shoulders.

“Do you trust me, Chloe? I need to hear you say you trust me.”

She placed the tip of her fingers to his cheek, her gesture meant to convey the love in her heart, in her soul. Another part of her, however, still held back, unable to believe in him, in them, with every part of her. “I do.” Yet that other part wouldn’t be silenced. “As you are right now.”

“You mean as long as I’m a man.”

The disappointment in his tone stabbed her, making her wish she could take his pain away. “Yes.” She lowered her eyes, unable to see more hurt. “But when your other side comes out…”

Could he understand? How could she trust his animal side? Her mind jumped to an image of Roger, his eyes narrowed, the hate wafting off him. She’d trusted Roger and he’d betrayed her. If a man without a beast inside him could do her wrong, how could she trust Conan not to hurt her more? The awkward silence between them almost broke her heart. He answered as though he’d heard her thoughts.

“I promise I won’t hurt you. Or anyone.”

She wanted to tell him she believed him. And she did believe he meant what he said. But could he really control his animal instinct to attack if pushed too far?

“We belong together.”

She wouldn’t, couldn’t disagree. “Yes, we do.” She started to tell him the rest, that she was still unsure whether he could keep his promise, but she couldn’t.

“You still have doubts. I can see them in your eyes.”

Chloe tugged on her clothes, buying time. He didn’t try to stop her, instead taking her lead to get dressed. She turned to him to rest her hand on his leg. He relaxed toward her for a kiss, but she resisted the urge to accept it. Instead, she flattened her hand on his chest. “I just don’t know.”

“I won’t let you down.”

She smiled at him and did the only thing she could. “Let’s talk about this later, okay? It’s getting late and Nina’s going to start freaking out if I don’t get back to the camp soon.”

“But—” He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

“Please, Conan.”

Opening his eyes, he nodded, then stood, helping her to stand along with him. He curved his hand around her neck, and for a moment, she thought he would kiss her again. He didn’t and she ached from the yearning he’d left unanswered.

“Maybe you and Nina should stay with Billy and me tonight. In case the jerk comes back.”

Chloe laughed, pleased that he’d asked her, but she refused to let Roger change her life. “Thanks, but there’s no way Nina’s going to sleep here. I barely got her to camp out in a sleeping bag with an inflatable mattress under her in a bug-free tent.”

Her humor, however, didn’t lessen the worry lines marring his features. “Then maybe she needs to stay in town and you can stay with me. Billy would be happy to stay in a hotel with her.”

“No. We’ll be fine. Don’t worry, okay?”

“If you say so.” The concern came and went across his features, contradicting his words, but he took her hand and led her out of the cave.

“Will you quit fidgeting?”

Conan grumbled, then pulled himself to his full height, hooked his thumbs in his jeans pockets and faced the forest. The afternoon sun warmed his bare shoulders, and not for the first time, he wondered how Chloe had talked him into posing for her. Billy, of course, had teased him unmercifully until Nina finally persuaded his friend to go into town with her. Conan shifted from one foot to the other and again received Chloe’s silent glare of warning to hold still.

He stole a glimpse at her from the corner of his eye. “Can’t I at least turn toward you? I think your picture would be more interesting with me looking directly at you. You know, to get the full effect of my handsome face.”

Chloe lifted her gaze, the surprise at his rare show of humor lighting up her features. “Modest much?”

He shrugged. “I got it, I flaunt it.”

She giggled and bowed her head over her art. Regardless of his complaints, as long as he could watch her, then he could tolerate the torment of standing in one place for so long. After all, he’d remained motionless for most of the night as he’d spied on her from the branches of a nearby tree.

Conan hid the stiffness a night sitting in a tree had given him. Although spying on her had seemed creepy in a stalker kind of way, he hadn’t been able to resist keeping watch over her. The idea of her ex coming back and harming her had driven sleep from him. He never would have forgiven himself if he hadn’t been there to protect her. Of course, he had no intention of telling her about his night-long surveillance.

Another interminable length of time passed before Conan was willing to admit he’d had enough. How did models do it? “Chloe, I’ve got to take a break.” Hopefully, he thought, for good.

She glanced up, a quizzical expression knitting her brow. “Already? Have we been at it for a long time?”

He relaxed and sat on the log beside her. “Long enough.” He leaned his shoulder against hers, enjoyed the sudden burst of excitement radiating out of her, and studied the picture.

Once again, she’d captured his image, showing the broad expanse of his chest and the long trunks of his arms and legs. Somehow she’d even managed to make his hair look like it moved with the breeze. His jaw appeared angular and strong, and the way she’d drawn his eyes, catching just the right amount of dark and gold during a transformation, stunned him. But his pride wasn’t for the way she’d depicted him—strong, virile, heroic—but for the skill she had. He sat straighter, pride making him puff out his chest.

“So, would you reconsider letting me draw you in your bear form?”

He frowned, wishing she hadn’t brought up the sore subject again. “Doesn’t it scare you when I’m…that way?” He saw the flicker of fear in her eyes and felt a stab of pain. If only she would trust him in every way, in either form.

She diverted her gaze from his. “It does. But maybe if I see you—” she shot him a glance, then looked away again, “—
that way
more often, I’ll get used to it. Unless, of course, there’s no need for me to get used to seeing you as a were-bear.”

Conan took her hand, halting her sketching and making her meet his gaze. “As far as I’m concerned, I want you to get real used to it. You’re the one who hasn’t decided how long we’re going to stay together. Or have you?”

She stiffened and took her hand out of his, but ignored his question. “So? Will you shift?”

Conan fought back a grin. Instead, he nodded solemnly, stood and started disrobing. He dropped his clothes on the log, loving her rapt attention, and laughed. “You like?”

She giggled, then rolled her lips inward to stop her tittering. “Well, duh.”

“Hold that thought, okay?”

“You got it, big guy.”

Conan closed his eyes and let the transformation churn in his stomach. As it always did, the turmoil signaled the change at his core then flowed swiftly outward. He shivered as a cold rush traveled through his veins, along with the tightening of his muscles. His body tensed in anticipation.

The world around him blurred as pain erupted. But the initial pain was nothing to the excruciating agony of his bones breaking, shortening in one place only to lengthen in another. The blurry image of Chloe stood and backed away, her tenuous hold on her fear wafting to him with the subtle change in her scent. A different type of ache, one not coming from broken and reformed bones, ripped into his gut. He tried to speak to her, to soothe the fear he could smell coming from her, but his mouth was no longer human. Fangs and a thick tongue garbled his words.

Still standing on his hind legs, Conan bent his head and saw his reflection in the bottom of a metal dinner plate. He paused, studying the partial transformation rippling through him, and understood Chloe’s alarm. Half man, half bear, he was a hideous creature.

Yet the change wouldn’t last much longer. The pain was growing dimmer and the world around him started to grow clearer. Dropping to all fours, he lifted his head and shook his body, ridding himself of the last of the agony.

“Shit!”

Conan and Chloe whirled to face Roger.

Chapter Nine

“I knew it. I did see him.” Roger took a couple of steps forward, elation propelling him. Then awareness swept over him, changing the jubilation to alarm. Backing up as fast as he could, he gripped his rifle and called over his shoulder. “Guys, hurry up! He’s here.”

Chloe stood frozen to the spot, terror snatching her voice from her. Roger was here and he’d brought reinforcements. She should’ve known he would return. She should’ve known he’d want revenge. Conan roared, breaking her out of her trance, but held his ground.

“No, Roger, get out of here while you can.”

Roger’s eyes darted from her to Conan and back again. “And leave you with that monster? I saw him change from a man to a bear. I saw him.” He hefted his gun to his shoulder. “I’m not leaving without you.”

Chloe motioned for Conan to stay back, then started walking toward Roger—placing her body in a direct line between the two of them. The growl from behind her blew warm air over her but she didn’t dare turn her back on Roger.

“I don’t know what you think you saw, but you need to let it go.”

Roger snorted and narrowed his eyes. “Don’t even try to talk me out of this.” He jerked his rifle to the side. “Get out of my way.”

Three men burst from the woods behind Roger, their rifles lifted and aimed at Conan. They skidded to a stop beside Roger, their wide eyes locked on the huge bear.

“That’s him, men. That’s the man-animal.”

Chloe heard Conan move toward her and had no choice but to swing around to confront him. Using her tone as much as the plea in her eyes, she held up her palms and whispered, “No, please. Conan, run. I’ll be okay.” His amber eyes sparkled at her, and with obvious deliberation, he shook his head and growled, denying her plea. Knowing she wouldn’t dissuade him, she turned back to the men and hoped he’d stay behind her long enough for her to do…something.

“That’s one damn big grizzly bear, Rog, but I don’t see no man.” The hunter, small in comparison to Roger, shook his head and switched his gun from one hand to the other.

“Are you calling me a liar, Mac? He changed. I’ve seen him do it twice now. Once we fill him with lead, we can haul him off this mountain. We’ll put him in a cage where he belongs and show the world. He’s going to make us rich.”

“You’re planning on caging him?” Chloe gaped at her ex-boyfriend. “Are you kidding me?”

“That’s right, bitch.” Roger checked his men, making sure they were ready. “Remember. Shoot him in the legs. He’s worth more alive than dead.”

Conan inched closer. She could hear his short pants, heard his paws digging into the ground and smelled the dirt flung in the air. “Please, Conan, you promised not to hurt anyone. Let me handle this.”

Mac lifted his gun a little higher, his nervousness showing in the way he danced on his feet. “He’s a big one. Bigger than I’ve ever seen. You didn’t tell us he was this big. How the hell are we going to get him loaded in the truck?”

Roger paused, searching for an answer. “Never mind. We’ll figure something out once we have him muzzled and chained. Chloe, get the hell out of the way.” He cocked his gun and aimed.

Conan roared, the sound a physical entity that covered Chloe in a tangible blanket of air and shook her into action.

“No!”

She threw herself at Roger in the instant he fired. A hot burn flamed in her shoulder as the impact knocked her backward, spinning her around. Conan, his forelegs lifted, claws extended, snarled, saliva dripping from his fangs. Chloe tried to reach out, still intent on stopping him from charging the men, but she’d lost control of her body. Instead, her knees buckled under her and she fell forward, darkness taking her the moment she landed in a soft bed of fur.

“Chloe, please open your eyes.”

Pain scorched along her shoulder to fire tendrils of agony through her chest and head, then through the rest of her limbs. She whimpered and fought the gray haze that kept her imprisoned. A pressure pushed against her shoulder, causing more pain, and she wanted to fight it but couldn’t. She had no strength, no way to make it all stop. She moaned, unsure if she’d made any sound.