Master of Fire (39 page)

“Where are we going?” He had a great voice, too, a deep masculine rumble that she could feel way down low in her . . .

“My apartment. But first we’ve got to make sure he can’t follow your scent.”

“Who?” He frowned. Even that looked good on him.

“The werewolf who attacked you just now. Don’t you remember?”

He hesitated, as if searching his memory. “No.” His mouth drew into a grim line. Strangely, he didn’t question the “werewolf” bit at all. Must be used to weirdness. Which made sense, considering the way he threw magic around.

She was suddenly far too aware of his hair, which spilled over his shoulders halfway down his back. The ends of it tickled the back of her hand where she gripped his waist. It was a deep black, except for silvery stripes that ran horizontally across the length of it, rather than vertically. She wondered how he’d achieved the effect. It couldn’t be natural.

Then again, how did she know what was natural for him? It was a sure bet he was no more normal than she was.

He jolted against her and looked down, his expression startled.

“Rocky, get your cold nose away from there,” she told the pit bull, feeling a blush heat her face. “That’s just plain rude.”

The man shielded himself from the dog’s sniffing muzzle with one hand. Big as his palm was, it didn’t quite cover the territory. “Does he bite?” He sounded more than a little nervous.

“No,” Beth said, then added more honestly, “not unless I tell him to. Which I wouldn’t.”

He looked up at her, the corner of his lips lifting in a dry smile. “I can’t tell you how that relieves my mind.”

“Any idea what your name is yet?” Somehow “hey, you” didn’t seem appropriate, what with the nakedness and all . . .

He considered the question for a little too long. Dark brows drew down over his remarkable eyes as a muscle jerked in his jaw. “No.” That growl would have done Rhett proud.

Her gaze lingered on that chiseled profile. “How does David sound? Just until you remember.”

His lips shaped the name, seemed to consider the taste. “All right.” He met her gaze and smiled. “David. Yes, that will do.”

Oh, my God, that smile
. Beth blinked, feeling as if he’d hit her with a board.

She was in such trouble.

 

 

His rescuer was
beautiful. Her body curved against his, surprisingly strong considering the top of her head barely came to his shoulder. Her hair was a short, dark cap of intriguing curls, though he couldn’t tell the color in this light. Her eyes were dark under straight brows, her jaw delicately angular, features elegant. She looked as if she should be peeking between forest leaves, wings shimmering between her shoulder blades.

Memory flashed through his mind—a small face peering at him just that way, eyes bright with magic . . .

The image vanished before he could capture it, gone like smoke whisping between his fingers.

Frustration whipped through him. Why couldn’t he remember? What in the name of all the gods and demons had happened to his mind?

He felt so empty. So helpless. As if something that should be there was missing. Whatever it was ached like a phantom limb, like something vital that had been amputated.

The girl was right about one thing: He’d been in a fight. He hurt, and bruises shadowed his ribs. There were cuts, too, slashing across his arms and legs. And his head ached as if he was being pounded by a fiend from hell.

Why can’t I remember?

It was obvious that whatever had happened in the fight had resulted in both his vanished memories and the . . . amputation of whatever the hell it was he’d lost.

He strained to remember as they walked, ignoring the dogs that trotted beside them like bodyguards. Trying to ignore the warmth of the girl’s slim body under his arm, the way she nestled against his side.

Which was much more difficult than ignoring her pets.

She smelled . . . delicious. Like deep forest and oranges. Odd combination, yet strangely seductive. Her body felt soft and strong at once, slim and solid and warm against his.

Feeling his sex begin to stir, he straightened hastily away from her supporting grip. Naked as he was, getting an erection just now would be acutely embarrassing. “I can walk on my own now.”

“You sure? If you’ve got a concussion, you don’t want to fall again.” Her eyes searched his face, dark with concern. And lovely. So lovely.

“I’m fine.” A lie, but necessary to his pride. He straightened his shoulders and stalked along grimly, ignoring the leaves and sticks that prickled his bare feet and the ache of his abused body. One of the dogs pressed a big, broad head up under his hand, and he stroked the beast absently as he walked.

He was acutely conscious of the girl—Beth, her name is Beth—watching him anxiously.

It hit him suddenly that if this werewolf enemy of his came after him again, she’d be in danger.

Then I’ll protect her
, he thought grimly.
And I’ll make the bastard pay.