Resurrecting The Beast [Werescape Book II] Page 2

  And maybe he was right. But how is my marrying a rapist would make the world a better place? “Maybe."

  He whirled to face me.

  Gods, with the most marled face. No wonder the Prophets call him Beast. He had scars from one set of claw marks cutting across one side of his face. And another running perpendicular to the set on the other side.

  The mask didn't fit his words. His philosophy. He should be crying for justice. Because nothing else would do after someone had slashed his face so brutally.

  "You aren't running,” he noted flatly.

  "Why would I?” Like I had anywhere to go. People were out to capture me and return me to Father everywhere I turned. For the money. I had just been gone too long. Long enough for the news to spread—a lifetime's fortune for my return.

  He eyed me from toe to nose. “I was mauled."

  "What animal mauls a man only in the face?” Maybe I shouldn't have focused on his scars. Damned mouth.

  "When you figure it out, I'll give you a prize.” His green eyes never blinked.

  Smart ass. Rather tail. Shifters called it a tail. And if he were a Shifter, he could have healed his scars shifting by the act of simply shifting. So, what the hell? “You're not a Shifter?"

  He squinted, eyeing me carefully through slits for a few seconds, and then nodded one direction. “I'll take you to a Shifter village tomorrow. There's not enough time to reach it by nightfall today. Tonight, you can sleep in my shelter."

  Away from the hordes of alien beasts, Bounders, that fed on anything human they could catch at night. Including Shifters. Shifters were genetically tweaked humans. Thanks to the extraterrestrials. So, now Beast was going to hand me over to Shifters. Hopefully they didn't have clan connections with Father's Guardians. Since I'd travelled from New York almost all the way to the Pacific Coast, I could only hope these Shifters were too far distanced to have any ties with the Atlantic Coast clans. “Alright."

  "It isn't much,” Beast apologized when he turned to the little Normal inside his cave. “But it keeps me warm, dry, and allows me enough cover to have a dim fire at night."

  The young woman perked up at the mention of a campfire. “You see lots of Bounders out here?"

  She had a pleasant softness to her features when her mind wasn't wandering. He nodded at her deep blue eyes. “They've bred over the past fifty years, expanding their population. They had to spread out to find new territory to hunt. Or they'd starve."

  A shudder shook her, visibly.

  Was she cold? Normals had lower body temps than Shifters. And it was early autumn. In Oregon, that equated to almost freezing temperatures on some nights. But today had to be a balmy sixty degrees. Mind you, the cave always seemed a bit cooler.

  "Beast?"

  A question now. “Yes?"

  "You know who I am.” Her suspicious gaze stared me down.

  I couldn't choke back my snort. “Everyone does."

  "Where can I go? To hide?"

  A real man would pity the desperation in her voice. She was the kind of woman a man would want to mate, make smile, tuck away in a warm lodge, and plan a list of names for all their babies. Why would she want to hide? Just what was she running from? I had all night to lure the reason out of her. “North?"

  She groaned and turned away to pace a bit toward the back of my cave next to the sealed ceramic crocks of my dried vegetables and crates of supplies.

  "What does your father want of you?” Would she answer honestly?

  She paused, sighed so loudly I thought the cave walls would be sucked in with the shifting air pressure, and began pacing again. “He wants me to make a political marriage."

  Most Normals married for the same reasons. Or for economics. Whereas, Shifters preferred romantic endeavors. Either way, all unions were for survival of the human species against alien attempts at its extermination. I squatted beside the embers of my fire pit and dug around in the hot coals with the end of a thick branch, just enough to stir up a small flame for more firewood. “And you're looking for something special?"

  "No,” she growled and spun to glare my direction. “I can't marry a rapist. He's an animal."

  Rapist? She didn't look so weak and helpless the way she growled at me. “Just how did the Prophets catch you?"

  "What does that mean? Anyone can be caught, Beast.” She started pacing again, her arms snaked across her chest.

  True. “You managed to survive four months out here. How did you do it?"

  She shrugged. “I had weapons. And I had teachers back home. They taught me to shoot and use a knife."

  Little Bit was on the defense. Whatever happened to tie her to that horse had to be pretty entertaining. “The Prophets disarmed you then?"

  "Yes. Now, I'd like to talk about something else."

  Oh, my mischievous chuckle would piss her off. I gulped it down. “Alright. Then you're heading north?"

  "God, no! It's too damned cold here. I'll die up there. All alone. Freeze my ass off in winter. Oh, God, it's always winter up there. North.” She collapsed onto her tail against a bare spot at the base of the cave's wall and scrubbed her face with both hands. “Oh, this bolt for freedom is all fucked up."

  The Gods couldn't laugh at that assessment or her exasperation. She had an astonishing ability to see things for what they are unlike most Normals ruling cities like her father. “Now, come on. How hopeless can everything be? You'll just go live at the village I'm taking you to tomorrow. And you'll find a way to fit in there. Nobody will bother you then."

  She locked a perturbed glare on me. “You have no idea how difficult my future is. How I'll spend it. How hopelessly miserable I am now."

  Funny the irony in her point given I'd lived that very existence for nigh two years. Since I failed the clan and my mate. A Shifter without kin was the living dead. Especially as the Shifter who'd caused the fiasco. The little princess could never relate in her self-absorbed reality. “No, I probably don't.” I skirted the weak fire to see if the rabbit stew was ready.

  It damned sure smelled ready. I'd have to hunt again tomorrow after feeding two. But a little company tonight had my Wolf clawing to play. What had it been? At least two months since I'd gone down to the trading post for coffee. I grabbed the pan's wrought iron lid with my steel tongs and released a cloud of billowy steam.

  Bubbling. Good. Dinner and a guest. The combination had been a long time coming. Truly. I should do this more often.

  "What do you know about me?” she asked.

  Better to keep my back to her. To let her see she had no hold on me. That I was in control. “You're nineteen. You've been on the run since mid-June. And everything else you disclosed."

  She cackled. “I was too weak to just kill myself. No, I had to run away. Like it made a difference. In the end, I'll be living exactly the way Father had planned for me.” She laughed a few dying barks. “I don't know why Father wanted to pawn me off on someone. Maybe he wasn't having very good luck with getting rid of me... That explains a lot in hindsight."

  That made no sense. Little Bit was young and beautiful. Any one of the Shifters at Death Summit would mate with her. Care for her the way the little princess should be cared for. “Don't beat yourself up too much.” I placed the heavy lid on a broad flat rock and turned to find her gaze anchored on mine. Those eyes glinting with hope. “There are plenty Shifters in need of mates at the village. You'll have the pick of the lot."

  "I don't want the pick of the lot,” she seethed. “I could have had the pick of the lot where I came from."

  Now a different story. “Then why didn't you choose?"

  "Oh, Father had them petrified to even look at me as if I had breasts.” She snorted and scanned the cave. “My older sister got to choose. Mated the toughest damned bastard in the lot. But what do I get for studying my ass off and walking the line? Traded to a rapist for water rights."

  Poor woman. Her father had saved her for marriage until she was long past the time she could begin giving a man
children.

  My heart choked.

  More for me than her. I'd had my chance to have a family. And lost it all.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Two

  So she had her eye on a Shifter? “Which one did you have the biggest crush on, Little Bit?” I grabbed an aluminum camper's plate that had miraculously lasted since before AEI.

  Her glare turned into a bitter scowl. “Crush? I never so much as said anything of the sort to any of them. They were my friends. I wouldn't have risked their lives for something so foolish. Father would have gutted anyone who even hinted he had an interest in me. Made an example of my friends to my friends. So, I respected my friends and said nothing.” Her words trailed off, dying with the sadness in her thoughts. She leaned her forehead onto a palm propped up by an elbow on a bent knee. “The Guardians's actions were always so honorable toward me. I just hate to discuss how stupid I was not to say anything about my feelings.” She groaned.

  Respect my Shifter brothers or not, although her actions leaned more toward respect, she could have her pick of the lot tomorrow. And I'd regain something of my self-respect visiting Tornado's clan and depositing this little bit of long legs wielding curves in the hands of some swarthy Shifter.

  She really needed to find a place where she felt safe.

  Someplace other than my gods-be-damned cave where she spilled her guts.

  My problems left little room for hers.

  Why was he watching me? Sylvie could feel the stare from across the shadowy cave. But nothing about Beast made me think he was dangerous. Rather, he seemed to sulk in deep thought. Why did he live all alone out here in the wilderness? Shifters were known to hide in The Wild, living a solitary existence. But why Beast?

  Because of his scars? They really weren't too horrific. Just a paw's worth of scratches from his temple beside his eye, slicing down at an angle to his lips on the left half of his face. And another set from his scalp at his forehead, cutting downward to his jaw line on the right. It's almost as if someone painted the lines on perfectly. To make him look menacing.

  Why did some Shifter mark him?

  And he survived the injury!

  But he didn't scare me. Not after he rescued me. Nothing could have bothered me with big nasty Jonas bearing down upon me. I shoved off the floor and swung my gaze toward Beast.

  He flicked his gaze away, toward the flames and the large black skillet. “Hungry?"

  Why had he been studying me?

  Whatever he nurtured in his pot smelled divine.

  He could wonder about me all he wanted the way my mouth salivated because he saved my butt and hadn't tried to disrespect me the way the Prophets had. The man had to be a master chef. And he asked if I was hungry. “For real hot food? Does my gut need to snarl any louder?"

  He ladled the savory steamy concoction into a deep dish and extended it my direction without a glance or comment.

  "Thank you.” He seemed to want to be left alone. Fine. I'd stay out of his way. I walked back toward the wall.

  "Sit with me?” he asked kindly.

  Why not? He was kind of nice when you ignored the scary ambiance in his size and scars. I snatched a spot near the fire, leaving a wide cushion of space next to him. The fire's heat could have that area. There was enough warmth chasing away the cold where I sat.

  He produced a large tin and opened it in the dancing firelight.

  I couldn't see a damned thing. Hopefully the box held forks or spoons.

  No. Big fluffy biscuits. And he was sharing.

  Dear. God. I rolled my gaze up to meet his curious stare. “You cook bread too?” I carefully took a tender lump of bread.

  My mouth watered so badly I feared I drooled.

  "Living alone you have to cook. Or you get really thin fast."

  Hell, there was nothing thin about his bulging muscles. He either fattened up for winter or ate like a warlord. And Father ate so well that he had Beast's body at the age of fifty-four.

  "You're staring at me,” he said, thrusting the ladle back in the skillet and eyeing me sideways.

  "I was just thinking that you remind me of my father—"

  "Oh, please hold back the compliments."

  Shit. I'd insulted him. “I didn't mean anything bad."

  Beast tried to say nothing while she chewed her food. I saved her, fed her, and now she's comparing me to her father. I'm not ancient. Just a few months shy of thirty.

  My Wolf clawed for a chance to talk.

  Or something. Damned uncontrollable beast. I choked him back, dragged a biscuit through the gravy on my plate, and tried to swallow enough semi-dry bread to hold back the Wolf.

  "I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I really only thought it was amazing how well you ate. Uh, so well that you either stored as much body mass as possible away to survive the long hungry months of winter or you got to eat like a warlord. Hence, the reference to my father."

  My Wolf paused.

  Alright. I'm not as old as her father. I might look like shit in the face. But that was all. Oh shit! She likes my body.

  My Wolf started dancing.

  Not good. “Apology accepted,” I forced out and shot her a glance.

  She sat gripping the biscuit and plate, watching me like she'd need to run for cover.

  The poor thing looked so lost and innocent. “It's alright, Little Bit. I understand."

  "Little Bit?” her dark eyebrows arched.

  I dragged my biscuit back through the gravy again. “You were so small with those Prophets on your tail."

  She sat quietly and chewed until swallowing. “How long have you lived out here? Alone. And why?"

  Too many questions. But something about her genuine interest made me fight a smile. I could answer her questions. Humor her. But sharing the information would only have her interrogating me with even more questions throughout the night. “Two years. Alone. Because I want to. Now eat your dinner."

  She smacked her lips and rolled her gaze to her plate.

  Obviously feeling dismissed. But she didn't need to know about my dishonor. It was bad enough I'd have to spend the night with Tornado's clan tomorrow to see her to safety. That alone was enough to kill a man's spirit. And on the flipside, just how did four months on the run not kill Little Bit's spirit?

  She rolled that sassy little gaze back to me, her blue eyes almost black in the weak firelight. “Those bastards took a lot from me—my knife and my pistols. My horse. I still have my dignity though.” She turned back to her stew. “Thank you for that."

  Why wasn't she driving me insane like a nosey woman, especially a spoiled Normal? Was her gratitude reaching in to stroke my inner Wolf? Or her rational perspective on her situation? She wasn't begging for help. Or making ridiculous demands.

  "This stew is amazing. Is it rabbit?"

  Not compliments. I can't handle finding anymore favor in this one. “Yes. The wild onion, salt, and corn claim all the glory for the flavor. I merely tossed them into the pot."

  She pierced me through with an icy gaze. “Beast, I could have thrown the same ingredients in and, trust me, you'd be gagging on the byproduct. Take the praise, sir. You deserve it."

  Sir?

  My chest ached with something long since lost in my mourning and self-imposed sentence.

  And only a fool would go there. “Don't call me sir, Little Bit. I might be a few years older than you, but I'm not so old that I need to sit out the hunt or a dance."

  "Shifters dance?” Her face lit up like the midday sun.

  Gods damn. I kept digging my hole deeper and deeper spilling my own guts. That's what a fool gets for inviting company to dinner. She needed to stop asking questions. “You should know the answer given clans work for your sire.” I pinched a piece of meat with a piece of biscuit and shoved it into my mouth.

  The firelight toyed with my vision, gilding her in beautiful golden light. Or maybe just those damned rounded breasts of hers in her little fitted leather jacket.
>
  My Wolf growled.

  Unruly beast. I thrust an enormous log on the fire and hoped to stir up enough light so everything she had came into full view instead of the light focusing on her breasts. Anything to hold back my Wolf.

  "I don't get it, Beast."

  Her tone was genuinely innocent. “Seconds?” I pointed at the ladle even though her serving looked exactly as it did when I spooned it into the pan.

  "Not that.” She snorted a weak laugh. “Why didn't your scars heal when you shifted?"

  Why am I not surprised she got right back on track? The intelligent little she-demon. “I haven't shifted since being wounded."

  She opened her mouth, paused, and thought. “How long ago was that?"

  That's enough. “Eat. I cook midmorning and at night. You better eat it while there's something in the pot."

  She sighed and focused back on her food, occasionally casting me a curious glance. We finished eating in silence. I could probably have pulled out the radio and played her some music. But she'd probably bring up the dancing. Then again I didn't want to waste my generator's juice on music.

  "Can I do the dishes?” she placed her plate on the ground beside her black boot.

  Expensively fitted boots. Handmade. Money.

  Thunder clashed outside.

  Her small well-carved nose snapped toward the cave entrance hidden around a curving entryway, her thoughts drifting far away.

  "I didn't peg you for someone who feared the rain, Little Bit."

  Her gaze snapped back to mine, and she rubbed her palms together. “Cold front?” she stated more than asked. “I hope we get snow. The rain kind of ruins my plans."

  "You have plans?"

  She shot me one of those impish female smirks. “Well, my horse is trained to follow me. He probably won't be able to track me once the rain washes our trail away."

  I'd never heard of a blood mount. “A horse can track a human?"

  "Mine can. Well, Father's can.” She grinned devilishly. “He didn't know I was going to borrow his prized mount when I departed. Or prowl through his armory. But my departure was rather spur-of-the-moment."

  Little Bit's sire didn't know much of anything. He should have kept her happy. Allowed her to choose her own mate because she was the sharpest little female I'd stumbled upon in a long time. “Well, don't fret about the horse. The Prophets may have taken him."