Leather and Lace [Skinwalkers 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 2

  What’s wrong with her?

  Other than the fact that she was all alone, didn’t have a coat on, and was walking.

  Nix that. She’s stumbling.

  The T-shirt and jeans she wore were torn and dirty, but that wasn’t what had him throwing his Jeep into gear and shoving his shoulder against the driver’s door. It was the red lines of blood as well as the patch of caked blood along one leg that caught his attention. She was hurt and needed help.

  “Damn it,” he muttered. And here he’d thought he was getting a pass on playing rescuer this year.

  “Hey, you. Hey, lady?”

  He approached her, treating her like any wounded animal he might encounter in the woods. He couldn’t see where she could hide a weapon on her body, but his years in the army had taught him to be cautious even when he couldn’t see the danger.

  She didn’t answer. Didn’t even lift her head.

  “Hey, are you hurt? Do you need help?”

  It was a stupid question to ask, but he wasn’t sure what else to do. If he approached her without warning, he might spook her and make her fall into the bar ditch. As it was, she was on the verge of doing just that anyway.

  “Can you hear me?” Again, a silly question. Or at least he hoped so. But after watching a documentary on deaf children the previous night, he didn’t want to rule out that possibility.

  He drew closer. She was a shapely little thing, and even in her current disheveled state, he could see how attractive she was. She hadn’t been out in the elements for too long. And not in the cold that had settled in the night before. Although messy and tangled, her hair was shiny even in the dull light of the cloud-filled sky. Only a couple of her pink-colored nails were chipped, and once he took a good whiff, he realized that she’d bathed recently.

  Still, his inner animal growled, urging him to be cautious. He shoved the beast down and took a step closer. “Listen. Can you talk? I’m not going to hurt you. Let me help you.”

  It was no longer a question of if she needed help, but how to help. He reached out his hand and was surprised when she shuffled right past him.

  The blood on her forehead near her hairline didn’t look good. He’d smelled blood when he’d sniffed her, but that was more than the superficial scrapes she had on her arms, legs and face. He watched her amble forward, shuffling past his Jeep, and the hairs on his arms stood on end.

  Something bad had happened to her. But what?

  He looked around, suddenly aware that whoever had hurt her might still be nearby. Shifting to bring out his sensitive skinwalker sight, he slowly slid his gaze over the tree line. He drew in a long, slow breath, but didn’t pick up any unusual scent.

  He had to help her. As much as he’d like to get in the vehicle and drive off, he couldn’t. It wasn’t because of his usual dislike of getting involved. Instead, there was something about her that tugged at him, urging him to take control of a bad situation. He didn’t know why and God knew he’d never felt that way before, but he felt—what was it? —protective of her.

  He glanced at the sky again and let out a curse as fat, wet snowflakes began to drift to the ground. By the time he got her into his Jeep and headed back down toward any large town with adequate medical facilities, the storm could have already closed the roads. He could get stuck in town, or worse, in between. Weather in the mountains in October was an unpredictable thing at best. At worst, it could be deadly.

  He had no desire to get trapped in a vehicle with a human female. Especially an injured human female.

  “Damn it.”

  He strode after her. Moving to put his body in front of her, he reached out his hand again. “Hey, lady, let me help you.”

  She stopped inches from him, like one of those robot vacuum cleaners that isn’t aware of furniture until it bumps into it. Yet instead of looking up at him, she only pivoted and tried to go around him.

  “Okay, that’s it. I don’t know who you are or what’s happened to you, but I can’t leave you out here alone. You’re coming with me.”

  He took her arm, not too rough, but firm enough. Then promptly turned her loose when she let out a wail. He jerked his hand away and stepped back as though she’d transformed into a rattler.

  “Hell, lady, are you trying to raise the dead?”

  Still, if his touch had done nothing else, at least it had gotten her to notice him. The look she gave him tore at his soul. He’d seen the same kind of look from soldiers who had gone through a terrifying ordeal and come out the other side with their body intact, but their minds shattered.

  Her face was scrunched together as though she was witnessing a horrific event. Her green eyes, the same emerald-green color that his mother had loved, widened. The blood from her forehead had stopped oozing, but the trail of red made a hideous zigzag line that reminded him of the jagged stitches on Frankenstein’s face. Still, nothing could diminish her beauty.

  Firm, perky breasts strained at the tight T-shirt. Part of the shirt was torn and had fallen down to expose the swell of one braless breast. He swallowed, suddenly overcome with desire. Her waist was small, but she had an ample bottom, one not too big, but with enough meat on her bones to give a man a firm hold. The image of him holding her butt cheeks and slamming his cock into her butt hole swamped him, and for a moment, he thought the world spun a little faster.

  He could see her bent over the bench in his bedroom, her pretty white ass beckoning for the swat of his palm. He imagined her eyes growing unfocused—not in the way they’d been moments before, but filled with lust—and her lips would part, giving way for her sweet tongue to peek out and tempt him.

  He had no doubt that Chan would like her. He’d always been partial to blondes and since they’d started sharing women, he’d usually chosen blondes to join them. Most of those playtimes had all happened in the cities, away from the solitude of their home. On the rare occasion that they’d brought women back to their home, they’d taken an out-of-the-way route, using back roads that only they knew. The women would never be able to locate their home on their own, much less tell anyone else how to find it. And none had ever been allowed to visit the cave behind the house.

  They enjoyed using sexual toys as well as other sex play items and they preferred the women to be submissive as the women of Zack’s people had always been. Nonetheless, they’d made sure that each woman was left not only unharmed by the leather restraints they preferred, but more than satisfied.

  The idea of sharing women had led to another discussion, one that had promised to change their lives. They yearned to find one woman, a female with a strong spirit and strength, who would submit to them. Whether she was shifter, skinwalker, or human didn’t matter. She could make the choice to stay as she was or become a shifter after she’d given them her body and her heart.

  He jerked his attention back to the problem at hand. It was even more apparent that he couldn’t leave her alone. Wandering the woods in her right mind would’ve been bad enough, but with the stability of her mind in question, it would’ve been the same as if he’d left her for dead.

  He stepped back and studied her again just to make sure her injuries weren’t more extensive. And to give him more time to think.

  There was only one way to handle an emotional female. Before she could have another outburst, he moved fast, using his skinwalker speed to help. He dove for her waist as though to tackle her, then lifted her onto his shoulder.

  She let out another wail, hurting his sensitive hearing. Although she was a little woman, she had power behind the punches she landed against his back. She kicked and struggled to get free. Was she always this strong or was fear fueling her strikes?

  He could feel the heat from her body driving through his jean jacket and shirt. If she was that warm, then she couldn’t have been outside for long. And if she was that hot now, how hot would she be once he got her into his bed?

  That doesn’t matter.

  He gritted his teeth and got a better hold on her. He’d been ri
ght about her hips. They were great to grip.

  All at once, she stopped struggling and went limp.

  Damn it. He picked up speed and made it to the passenger side of his vehicle. Balancing her, he swung open the door. He then gently lowered her to the seat. From the steady rise and fall of her chest, she was still breathing. More than likely, the exertion combined with the toll of whatever she’d gone through had finally put her out. She was lucky she’d held on until he’d found her.

  Her tangled hair spread out over the cushion. Her lips parted and her long eyelashes feathered over her pale cheeks. For a moment, he thought she looked like an angel that had fallen from heaven straight into his arms. Only her wings and halo were missing.

  His imagination zipped to life again, showing her bent over, hands on her knees as she craned her head around to slide her tongue over her lips. Her silky hair fell like a waterfall as she wiggled her ass to tempt him.

  He shoved the image of taking her from behind away. First things came first. He’d get her home, clean her up, and take a look at her injuries. Then he’d decide what to do from there.

  Chapter Two

  Lace wasn’t sure when she became aware of her surroundings. It came in spurts, a flash of light here, the sensation of something warm wrapped around her, the feeling of coolness against her skin that was quickly followed by the quick zing of pain. She could hear herself moan, but the sound seemed unfamiliar, as though someone else had taken over her voice. She tried to fling her arms outward, but it was difficult. Her limbs were too heavy for her to move.

  “Take it easy. You’re safe now.”

  The words were encouraging, but it was the deep richness of the voice that really put her at ease. She sighed and gave up any resistance against the hands running over her body, the touch of wetness at specific places where the stings had changed to dull throbs. Her body ached all over and her head hurt, but it was less than it had been before.

  She frowned, at least inwardly. Before what?

  The light came from the right side of her, resting against her face and beckoning her to open her eyes.

  The hands that had been so caring moved toward her breasts. She struck out, finally finding mobility in her arms. It didn’t matter, though. Her attempts to push away the hands were like a fly trying to push an elephant.

  “Easy, I said.”

  The voice was still deep and rich, but the tone now held a note of irritation. And yet she sensed that the irritation wouldn’t change into anything more than that. If it did, could she stand it? Other voices bounced around in her mind, none of them sounding like the one near her, but she knew they were familiar. Familiar ones she never wanted to hear again.

  Again? When had she heard them before?

  She forced her eyes open, as much to find the person behind the deep, rich voice as to run from the ones in her head. Blinking at the harsh light, she turned her head to the other side and groaned as the simple movement sent a hard stab into her forehead.

  She blinked again, then squinted, giving her eyes a chance to adjust to the brightness. Things appeared fuzzy, and at first, she couldn’t make out the face. She got the sense that it was a man’s face, both from the memory of the voice as well as the wavy hair cropped just below the ears.

  “Welcome back.”

  Welcome back from where?

  She didn’t think she’d spoken out loud. If she had, he would’ve reacted. Instead, the face remained unmoving, a dark image against the brightness behind him. She lifted her hand to rub her eyes, but a hand took hers and gently put it back on the bed.

  “Stay still.”

  There was something about his voice that made her feel safe. The emotion felt unfamiliar, alien.

  She closed her eyes as he placed a cool rag to her eyes and wiped them. It felt good, soothing, and once he’d wiped them for a second time, she opened her eyes again and saw him clearer.

  He was a handsome man with the type of face that made other men recognize his power and women think of him in terms of sex and romance. His lips weren’t too full, yet not too thin, either. They looked like they’d be soft to touch, but at the same time, she could imagine them crushing hers. His strong jaw was smooth and he had brown skin that came from heredity more than time in the sun. A flash of a Native American in full headdress popped into her thoughts. He was just as regal as the images she’d seen of those men and pride radiated from his very being. His thick eyebrows made her expect dark eyes. Instead, his eyes were ocean blue like the clear water off the coast of Jamaica.

  Had she ever been to Jamaica?

  He studied her as she studied him. “Like I said, welcome back.”

  She tried to speak, but a clog held back the words. The sound she made came out like a croak.

  His hand, so large, cupped the back of her neck and lifted her so that she could take a sip from the drink he offered. She pursed her lips around the straw and sucked. Water had never tasted so good. He took the cup away before she was ready, then laid her head back on the pillow.

  It was hard to tear her eyes away from the face, but she managed to glance around the room. She was in a log-cabin-style room with beams above her and knots in the wood of the walls. A large skylight filled part of the ceiling, allowing the fading sunlight to throw light around the room. Strangely, there was only one small window. The bed fit in with the room with its four rustic wooden bed poles. The blanket she lay under was soft, but obviously well used. Simple furnishings of a dresser along with one nightstand and the lamp that was casting its light on her gave a soft touch to the hard surroundings.

  When he brought her gaze back to his, she saw the sparkle in his eyes. “Where am I?” The water had done miracles and she spoke easily now.

  He didn’t smile. His countenance was stern, yet not harsh. “You’re in my home.”

  For the first time, she felt a quiver of alarm. Not only did she not know where she was, but she couldn’t remember how she’d gotten there. “How’d I get here?”

  “You don’t remember?”

  “No.” The quiver was turning into full-fledged fear. “Tell me.”

  He leaned back and tilted his head at her. “You were out of it. Still, I was hoping you’d remember that much.” He drew in a breath, then let it out as though feeling put out by her question.

  She searched the room again, trying to see anything that might jar her memory. But it was useless. She could’ve been on the moon for all she knew.

  “I found you walking down a road on my land.”

  “I was?” Why couldn’t she remember that? How could she not remember him? He wasn’t the type of man that was easily forgotten.

  “Yeah. Like I said, you seemed out of it.” A quick look of anger came and went. “Who did this to you?”

  She wasn’t sure she could answer his question. In fact, she wasn’t sure she wanted to even if she could remember. “I don’t know.”

  “All right.” But the anger was there again, if only for a brief moment.

  She pulled the comforter over her chest toward her chin. “Was I alone?” She tried to bring the answer from the dark recesses of her mind, but couldn’t.

  “Yep.” His head tilted the other way. “Let’s start with the basics. My name is Zack Blackwood. Now you tell me yours.”

  She almost frowned at the placating way he said it, as though he were addressing a small child. “Lace. My name is Lace.”

  “Lace what? Or is that it? Just one name? Like Cher?”

  She shot him a hard look, then opened her mouth to speak, but that was as far as she got. The fear whipped into her neck, stiffening it. She struggled, again delving into her memory and getting nowhere. “I don’t know.”

  There’s that tilt of his head again.

  “You don’t know your last name?”

  She searched again, more frantically than before. And still, nothing came. “No. I don’t.” Her fear burgeoned into panic. “Oh, my God. I don’t remember my own last name.”

 
She sat up, ready to throw off the comforter and run away. But where would she run to?

  Zack took hold of her arms, keeping her where she was. “Calm down, baby. You’ve obviously gone through a lot. Give yourself time to recuperate.”

  Baby.

  She was surprised to find that she liked the way that sounded.

  She swallowed hard. He was right. She couldn’t remember what had happened to her, but it wouldn’t stay that way. Lots of people had trouble remembering after a traumatic event. Especially when they couldn’t even remember the traumatic situation that had caused the memory loss.

  “Are you okay now?”

  Lace wasn’t sure she was, but she nodded anyway. Maybe if she acted her way back to normalcy, she’d get there. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  He turned her loose and she regretted it a second later. She wouldn’t have minded if he’d wanted to hold her against him and put her head on his strong, hard chest. Her gaze lingered over the black T-shirt, noting how it molded to his muscles. She almost sighed. She’d had dreams about men who looked like him.

  “Okay, then, let’s give it another try. I know it’s kind of scary, but try and stay calm. Can you do that?”

  She flicked her tongue from one side of her mouth to the other. It was a nervous habit she’d started in high school and she’d yet to break herself of it. “Yeah. Go ahead.”

  “Let’s go over what we know. Your first name is Lace and I found you on an isolated mountain road. You were banged up a bit, but weren’t badly hurt. Is that right?”

  She didn’t remember the road, but she nodded even as she lifted the comforter and checked out her naked body. Although she had a number of scratches and bruises, none of them appeared to be serious.

  Wait. How’d I get naked?

  Her eyes widened and she clutched the comforter harder. “Where are my clothes? I was wearing clothes when you found me, wasn’t I?”

  She’d expected one of two reactions. Either he’d look smug with a hint of delight or he’d look embarrassed. She didn’t get either reaction. Instead, his incredible blue eyes deepened, smoldering with lust.