odd angle, No danger there.
Another roar split the air as the steady whap whap whap of the helicopter came in closer, swirling dust and dirt in the air as she finally found Braden.
Her eyes widened. He was bloody, his shirt tom from his back as he grappled with the other cyclist. Not that there was much fight there. As she watched in amazement, Braden jumped, twisting in midair as one arm came around the other man's neck, the opposite palm cupping the large head. A quick jerk, and the man was dead before Braden landed on his feet.
His head went back, his lips opening as another roar filled the air, his sharp incisors flashing in the sunlight.
She struggled to her feet as Braden's head lowered, his gaze finding her automatically. The golden color gleamed from his tanned face, the feral expression slicing through her consciousness as she stared back at him, watching as he began to stalk slowly toward her.
Dangerous. Primal. He strode to her, sweat, blood and dust gleaming across his naked chest, his hair flowing around him, his muscles bunched, tight.
When he reached her he didn't jerk her to him. His hands went to her
shoulders, lightly, moving over her efficiently as she swayed before him. A second later, obviously reassured that she was in one piece, he then pulled her into his arms, lowered his head to her shoulder and bit her.
Son of a fucking bitch. This biting shit was going to have to stop.
She struggled in his arms, only barely aware of the buzz of loud voices behind her. Lance was yelling over her father, the first argument she had ever heard between them.
There was growling in her ear, the sound rough and too primitive.
"Let me go, you growling, sharp-toothed, SOB. " She snarled as he finally raised his head, a drop of blood-her blood-clinging to his lips.
Adrenaline was surging through her body, arousal in the midst of triumph, success and overwhelming excitement.
And he had to pull the alpha claim-his-mate crap. She didn't think so.
Before she was even aware of the thought her arm cocked back, fingers tightening in a fist and slamming toward his face. He jerked back, but not fast enough. Her fist connected with his eye, not as strong as it could have been-after all, she had just flipped a Range Raider, not exactly child's play there. But hard enough that she knew it was going to bruise.
"Neanderthal," she bit out as he stared back at her in surprise. "Keep those vampire teeth off my fucking neck before I have them extracted. "
She jerked her shirt over her shoulder. To be fair, he had bit her there, nor her neck. But she wasn't in the mood to be fair. She stared around, her frowning gaze settling on the two dead riders.
Propping her hands on her hips, she ignored the incredulous male expressions around her and snapped out furiously,
"You couldn't even save me one, could you, Purr-boy? Just one. Was that too damned much to ask?"
He breathed in slowly, easily, then nodded.
"Yep, cupcake. In this instance, one would have been way too many. Count yourself lucky I let you drive. I promise, it will be the last time. " If his expression was anything to go by, the ride had been as w
ild for him as it was for her.
Exhilaration glittered in his eyes with the same strength that it throbbed in her veins.
She smiled, a slow, wide curve of her lips, before encompassing the silent men in her gaze.
"Today is a good day. " She nodded with a laugh. "Yep. Damned fine. Now, where's that fucking Dragoon"
Chapter Sixteen
She was like that damned bunny Braden had seen in the old vids they used to watch in the Labs. What was it called?
The little pink froufrou thing with the drum? Something to do with a battery? An Energizer Bunny? Kept going and going and going_ She was making him dizzy. Hell, that flip had damned near scrambled his brains, he didn't need a fist upside his head to help him along. And add to that the fact that until she disappeared into one of the bedrooms with the Breed doctor, Elyiana Morrey, she had been bouncing around like a Mexican jumping bean.
Not that he blamed her for hitting him. He still didn't understand that
bite he had given her. The compulsion to do it had been so primitive, so overwhelming he hadn't even thought to ignore it. He had bitten her, then just as quickly began to lick the two small punctures he had made in her shoulder. He had marked her, and some primitive instinct had demanded that he force her to submit to him, in at least some small way.