She tightened her draw on the string.
A soft noise behind her, a dislodging of some small pebble, alerted her to impending danger. She rolled to her hip, dropping the bow and arrow. A heavy weight pressed on her exposed stomach and chest, driving her shoulders into the dirt and forcing the breath from her body. Well-muscled arms clad in leather kissed the dirt on either side of her head, caging her in. The stranger pinning her down was enormous.
So, however, was Creed, and she had sparred with him many times. Self-preservation kicked in. What she lacked in size she made up for in strength and agility, and while she’d been no match for Creed’s experience, she’d held her own.
This giant clearly did not expect her to know how to defend herself. His broad torso also tipped the center of gravity in her favor. Wrapping her legs around his waist—which hiked her skirt indecently far up her thighs—she slid her arms up and through his. Once her arms were free, she brought them back down and around to pin his arms to her sides.
His face was now inches from hers. Their gazes burned hot into each other. Surprise lit his dark eyes when he realized she had him trapped—and that she had the strength to keep him that way. Neither one of them could move without giving the other an advantage. Raven squirmed, trying to leverage her hips and shoulders into a position to flip him, but he held her firmly beneath his body, his knees on her skirt. She skinned an elbow and her shoulder for her efforts. He did not give an inch.
“My name is Blade,” the man said. “I’m trying to help. I’m not going to hurt you.”
His voice, deep and low, sounded more amused by her attempts to unseat him than anything. She had the unsettling sensation that she’d seen him before but could not place him.
The hross thundered by below, the pounding of their great hooves shaking the dry earth. Seconds later, they were gone. Furious at being caught off guard and more furious still at missing her last chance to shoot Justice, she kicked a heel into Blade’s hip but with no real impact.
“Good to know,” Raven panted. “Because the minute I’m free, I intend to hurt you.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
His quiet humor enraged her further, but she remained cautious. Creed had never been a real threat to her, but she could not say the same for this man, no matter what his reassurances to the contrary might be.
Dirt ground into the scrape on her shoulder as she continued to try to gain leverage while covertly studying his face. His skin was deeply browned, as if he’d spent weeks in the sun. High cheekbones and a firm, unsmiling mouth made him appear grim despite his amusement at their predicament. Straight hair, almost as black as hers but without the red highlights, and much longer, had come free of its restraint and now brushed her cheek, blocking her vision on one side. If she turned her head, her face would be buried in it. She already caught his scent, one of plain soap and sunshine, and her demon stirred with an interest in him that was far more sexual than violent in nature.
Shaken, Raven pushed it away. It was a challenge for her to read emotions in others when her own ran so high, but even without her demon’s pull toward him, she could sense that he held no true intent to hurt her. On one level that reassured her. On another it scared her to death, because she knew this man was also dark inside—complex and nearly impossible to understand.
Her human instincts warned her of danger, though not necessarily any direct threat to herself. Like Creed, Blade was capable of considerable violence, but he also possessed a great deal of self-control. Raven suspected they could remain in this position for hours and he would not relent.
Neither would she. If he forced her hand, she would use her demon to free herself. She hoped it wouldn’t come that—but for her sake, not his. Each time she unleashed her demon she lost a small sense of her humanity, something she wanted desperately to cling to.
“What were you planning to do with that arrow?” he asked, as if making polite conversation and they were not locked in a battle of strength and wills.
“I was hunting rabbits.”
“I see.” He tested the hold she had on his arms, still pinned to her sides. “I saved your life, then. If you’d killed the rabbit you had your sights on, every Godseeker assassin in the land would be after you. You’d be dead before the next shift of the moon.”
“I can look after myself,” she said.
His eyes, black and serious, did not waver from hers. “Like you did last night, you mean?”
He had been there, in the crowd. That was how she recognized him. Desperation shot through her. He knew what she was accused of. She saw no point in pretending otherwise. “Will you turn me in?”
There was a slight hesitation before his response. “No.”
She believed him, but she did not trust him. She could not afford to. “Let me up.”
“I don’t think so,” he said, after eyeing her carefully and reaching some sort of conclusion. “Not yet. You’re still far too angry.”
How dare he refuse her demand. He had no authority over her. No one did anymore. The knowledge was liberating. She wasn’t about to let this stranger, handsome or not, take her freedom from her. She had not escaped one man to become the possession of another.
“I’m not angry,” she said, forcing calm into her tone.
“No?” He was silent for another long moment. “Your stepfather tried to rape you—for all I know, he may have succeeded—and then blamed you for it. He tried to have you burned at the stake as a demon spawn. He destroyed every single thing you owned—and likely valued.” Despite the blunt cruelty of his words, compassion eased its way into his eyes. “Are you sure you aren’t angry?”
She had not needed the reminders.
Then, she absorbed what he said.
“How did you know he destroyed my belongings?” she asked, suspicion creeping across her flesh. Her eyes widened in renewed fury. “Have you been following me?” She brought her head up, aiming for his nose, and he swung his face to the side almost too late to avoid it. Her forehead connected with his cheekbone instead. “Let me up, you bastard!”
“Not yet.” His weight on her chest increased, pressing the air from her lungs as he held her down.
White-hot rage made her reckless and far more dangerous than he could possibly know. She channeled the heat of her anger inward. It shifted as it touched that other, separate part of her inner self, the one that could manipulate fire.
…
Blade had been entirely too distracted by the golden gleam of her skin and the full line of her mouth. That was why he barely evaded her attempt to break his nose.
Careless.
He flicked his gaze back to her pale, diamond-blue eyes, where it should have been, and was again caught by an unsettling surprise. They smoldered, filled with flames of desire where only seconds before he’d read outrage. One moment she exuded innocence. The next, she became this sultry seductress. Rather than trying to toss him off her, she now lifted her hips invitingly, then tilted her chin, beckoning him closer.
He immediately went hard, reminding him of how long it had been since he’d last enjoyed the heat of a woman. But the suddenness of her transformation put him on guard. He had heard the talk of her ability to lure men, and all his self-preservation instincts commanded he keep his eyes locked on hers.
He cursed under his breath. He’d let his own bad experiences with a Godseeker uncle cloud his interpretation of what was happening last night, and immediately assumed her stepfather was lying. He had not truly thought through what it might mean if the accusations against her were true.
He still had no idea.
He panted slightly, trying to shift his weight from his throbbing erection and calm it without giving her any room to escape. He caught a rock with one booted foot and tried to use it as leverage to help him free his arms, accidentally kicking it off the side of the ledge instead.