Belong To The Night. Cynthia Eden

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ that was the last thing she remembered.

      Jamie dropped like a sack of potatoes and Tully barely caught her in time, his arms wrapping around her and lifting her up before her head slammed into the ground.

      “What did you do to her?”

      Tully glared at Kyle over his shoulder, the scent of the overgrown alley cat warning him of his presence five minutes ago. “I didn’t do anything. She just dropped.”

      Kyle stepped up beside him. “We can take Jamie to my place. Emma will take care of her.”

      “Nah. I’ll take her home myself.”

      Kyle studied him for a long moment. “I’m not sure I’m okay with that.”

      “Why? What do you think I’ll do to her?”

      “It’s not you I’m worried about, canine.”

      Tully couldn’t help but smile. “Awww, Kyle. Does this mean you care about me?” Tully reared back with Jamie still in his arms. “Well, there’s no call to hiss at me, feline!”

      Chapter Four

      Jamie woke up on her couch, a quilt wrapped around her. All the lights on and a fire blazing away in her fireplace. An open bottle of water rested on the coffee table in front of her couch, along with a bowl filled with grapes she’d brought that afternoon from the farmers’ market. Using what strength she had left, she pulled herself up until she had her back against the armrest. She grabbed the water first and swigged back half of it, her throat raw from the flames she’d been forced to eat before she figured out her opponent’s weakness and won the tournament. After hydrating, she placed the bowl of grapes in her lap and proceeded to devour them. She was so glad she’d gone for the seedless when she made the purchase since she’d never been a big fan of spitting, unless she was in a fight with her cousin.

      As she was nearing the last few grapes and wondering what else she had in her refrigerator or freezer to eat, she heard a loud bang somewhere in the back of the house followed by extensive cursing.

      She started to get up when Rico flew into the room followed by Tully Smith trying to catch her.

      “Come here, you little bastard!” He made a wild grab for the gyrfalcon and the bird went up into the rafters. One of the reasons Jamie had picked this cabin for her new home was because of the deliciously extravagant high ceilings.

      “Don’t think runnin’ up there’s gonna stop me,” Tully growled.

      He’d put on clothes—tragically—and she wondered how long she’d been out for Tully to go to his place, change, and get back here without her knowing. Then, on the end table at the opposite end of her sectional couch, she noticed not only her gun but the dress and satchel she’d taken with her when she’d gone out to the clearing. Christ, what time is it anyway? Because if there was one thing she knew about the man, it was that he didn’t have a vehicle to get around quickly in. Every time she saw him he was either walking on two feet or four, but he was always walking slowly. If he wasn’t walking, someone else was driving. Yet she did have to admit…all that walking had done the man wonders. He had what could only be called an astounding body. The kind that the supermodels appeared to have in those giant billboards in Times Square but when Jamie had actually seen them in person—usually during drug busts—they were way too thin and narrow. But not Tully Smith. He was definitely a man who could handle her physically, which was a nice change of pace.

      “What are you doing?” she finally asked when she saw the wolf bending at the knees so he could make a lateral jump to the bird. Although what the shifters could do—and withstand—physically did amaze Jamie, she also knew he’d never reach the bird. Then again, dogs could be kind of dumb sometimes.

      Tully let out a breath before slowly turning to face her. “I’m trying to make you a fricassee.”

      Jamie snorted, wincing a little when it made her raw throat and nasal passages burn. “You may want to stick with easier birds to catch than falcons.”

      “Thought that was a hawk.”

      “Nope. A gyrfalcon.”

      “A what?”

      “A jerr-falcon,” she said slowly so he could understand the pronunciation. “A bird of prey. I looked it up.”

      “You got yourself a pet bird of prey?”

      “I didn’t get myself anything. One day I opened my front door and there she was. I call her Rico, after the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act.”

      “Because Tweety was too obvious?” He walked toward her and Rico came down from the rafters and landed right on his head. The wolf stopped and let out a very long and very frustrated sigh. “It’s on my head.”

      “Yes, she is on your head.”

      “Why is it on my head?”

      “Maybe because you keep calling her ‘it’ when she’s a ‘she.’”

      “Her talons are digging into my skull.”

      “She’s just trying to protect me from the likes of you. She’s my familiar, so that’s her job.”

      “I thought you said she was a falcon.”

      Not in the mood to give a full explanation of the magickal connection between certain animals and witches, Jamie lifted her arm and Rico came to her immediately. She landed on her forearm, talons gently holding on to the skin. Jamie smiled at the majestic bird who’d chosen her. “Isn’t she beautiful?”

      “Oh, I don’t know. I think I see much prettier things right here in this room.”

      Jamie looked up to find the wolf staring right at her chest, exposed because the quilt was down to her waist and she wore nothing else. Surprisingly embarrassed since, to quote Mac, “Jamie’s all about being naked when she can manage it,” she started to reach for the quilt when Rico spread out her wings, covering Jamie up.

      Tully glared at the bird. “Spoilsport.”

      Tully heard the timer go off and went back in the kitchen to dump the pasta he’d made into the strainer. He didn’t go for anything fancy tonight, more concerned with getting Jamie fed rather than dazzling her with his cooking skills. He dumped a healthy amount of spaghetti in a bowl and poured bottled sauce on top of that. Then he grabbed a fork, grated cheese from the refrigerator, and some paper towels. He took it out to the living room and found Jamie sitting up, the quilt wrapped around her from chest to feet. Too bad since he’d enjoyed staring at her beautiful body in all this light.

      For a full-human her body was strong and riddled with scars. No fang marks, like most of the Smithville females received after they hit puberty, but knife cuts, bullet holes—at least two—and a scar across her upper chest that had probably needed more stitches than he was in the mood to count. And yet she didn’t hide those scars from him or anyone else. Nor did she run around showing them off so that everyone could “ooh” and “aah” over her suffering. Like the beautiful brown color of her skin and those dimples in her cheeks, the scars were simply a part of her that she accepted and didn’t question.

      “Here.” СКАЧАТЬ