Beauty's Beast - By Jenna Kernan Page 0,29
Gamma and Delta packs north. If we leave them they will be recruited or killed.”
Samantha rolled her shoulder and grimaced, then pressed a hand to it. An icy tingle slithered down his spine.
“What are you doing?” He had not meant for his words to sound so harsh.
She startled and stared with those lovely cinnamon brown eyes of hers.
“Let me see,” he ordered.
“It’s nothing.”
He extended his hand and she lifted hers. Samantha’s palm was crimson with fresh blood. Alon’s stomach pitched. He’d seen blood on prey, of course, but this was different, so different. The sight made him ill, when he’d never been ill a day in his life.
He leaped at her and she startled, but allowed him to turn her so he could see her injuries.
Claw marks, four deep lacerations, as if cut by four scalpels. He recognized them instantly and from the size knew it was one of the yearlings. One of them had harmed her. Which one? His anger boiled inside him like lava. Which one had dared to touch her?
“It’s nothing. I’ll finish healing it later.” She lifted her injured arm and winced but still stroked his cheek. “Don’t look so fierce, Alon. I’m fine.”
He captured her hand, trapped it against his cheek and felt the soothing calm fill him. He met her gaze, and the tightness across his chest eased. She was a healer. He’d seen her repair that rabbit’s spine. He released her hand, and the worry crept back into his heart.
He glanced at her hand. Blood now dripped from her fingertips in a steady beat.
“I’m not leaving you injured and alone.” He recalled the ceremony for the rabbit. “You need the stones.”
She nodded. “I can work more quickly if you could find me a feather.”
He drew her to a seat beneath one of the towering pines and glanced up at the canopy, where two crows peered down at them.
“Any particular kind?”
“Bigger is better, but any sort will work.” She was glancing about on the forest floor when he streaked into the air. The crows were no match for his flying ability, and he quickly plucked a feather from the slower one’s tail then returned the way he had come.
He held out the feather, stained red at the tip from the extraction.
She frowned as she took it. “I generally use found feathers, not ones still in use.”
He lifted his brows. “Will it still work?”
She nodded. “Will the crow still work?”
Was she teasing him? No one ever did that.
“Yes.”
She smiled. He felt his mouth twitch at the corners in return.
“Then all I need is a stone circle. Sage and tobacco help sanctify, but I can do without them for such a small injury.”
Blood dripped between her fingers, spurring him to action. He dressed again and then gathered stones, dug stones, unearthed stones. He set them in a circle as she had done and helped her sit within. Then he paced as she began to chant. Finally, he stood with his arms folded across his chest as he rocked, restless as the March wind.
He circled and watched in fascination as the blood ceased and her flesh knit. Even her blouse mended. But she was a Skinwalker, he reminded himself. This was not really clothing. It was a part of her, her magical animal hide that appeared at puberty and which she could reform to suit her needs.
“There,” she said, favoring him with a lovely smile. “All done.”
He offered his hand, certain she would not take it. She hesitated a moment but then allowed him to assist her to her feet. The electric tingle at the pressing of palms sent a thrill through him. He’d never experienced anything like it, and he craved more.
“Can you heal anything?” he asked.
“Yes, my dad taught me the prayers.”
Samantha stepped from the circle and withdrew her hand from his. He allowed it then felt a tinge of melancholy as she moved away.
“Thank you, Alon, for rescuing me. I’ve been needing a lot of that lately.”
She didn’t move away. He thought about kissing her again then remembered the change that had occurred the last time. His desire died in a rush of shame. She cocked her head to look at him and then leaned in to brush her lips across his cheek. He closed his eyes to savor the tenderness of her gentle kiss and then felt the jolt of desire make him hard. Her sweetness was no match for his lust.
His skin tingled. He stepped away. “We best go.”
Samantha carried the feather