A Strange New Breed

This was another of my more popular novels.  It's the sequel to Pick of the Litter and the main characters, Nashe Wolfe and Terry Taylor are two of my favorites.  Nashe just has that bad boy brooding attitude that just makes him cuddleable.  I realized this morning that I'm giving excerpts of books but not telling you where to find them.  Most of them can be found at All Romance Ebooks under my pen name of Wendy Stone.  It's the easiest place to find them.  Pick of the Litter and A Strange New Breed can also be found in print through Amazon.com, also under my pen name of Wendy Stone.  Enjoy!!!



Chapter One

Terry ran through the woods, glancing fearfully behind her every few steps.  She couldn’t yet see what was chasing her, but she could hear it, loudly crashing through the underbrush, its growling leaving a chill of fear over her skin.

The thin white gown she wore caught on the brambles and branches, her arms were scratched, her feet cut on the rocks she ran over.  Terror kept her moving even when she could barely draw air into her exhausted lungs and her body screamed for rest.

Finally, her body won out and she dropped to her knees in a grassy clearing, the full moon overhead creating the illusion of daylight.  Glancing down at her shaking hands, she saw the thin shift she wore, tattered now by her wanton bid for freedom.  It was nearly see through, the tiny top cupping her breasts, making them look full and lush.  The rest was transparent, wet from the dew that coated the grasses she knelt upon.  It showed off trim thighs and rounded hips, the material clinging to her tiny waist.

“I don’t own anything like this,” she said softly, confusion clouding the sapphire blue of her eyes as she plucked at the fabric, pulling it away from her skin.  “And how did I get into the woods?  I don’t even like the woods, too many mosquitoes and ticks,” she said with a shiver of disgust.  “This is like some cheesy setting in some bad B-movie horror flick.  If there was music, it would be coming to a crescendo and cueing in the foul beast come to ravage my poor body.”

As if she’d conjured him up, a large silver animal loped into the clearing, its keenly intelligent emerald eyes fixed upon her.  It growled, showing large white fangs in a display meant to be terrifying.

It did terrify Terry, but only for a moment.  She stood, ignoring the aches and pains and feeling them fade away.  Pointing her finger at the animal, she shook it like her mother always had when one of her children had misbehaved.  “Bad dog,” she said in a disapproving voice.  “Very bad dog.  Sit!”

The animal stared at her as if confused, cocking its huge head to the side.  Then slowly, almost reluctantly, it sat.

Terry walked slowly toward the animal, holding her hand out as she’d seen countless people do to animals they didn’t know.  The silver beast took the cue, leaning forward to sniff delicately at the proffered hand, its mouth opening and its tongue lolling out to give her a tiny lick.  “Good boy?” she said softly, glancing between the animal’s legs to check.  “Wow, yeah, good boy.”

The animal seemed to be amused and it surprised Terry by rolling over onto his back on the grass, exposing his belly and the large pronouncement of his male heritage. 

Terry dropped to her knees, intrigued despite the ludicrousness of the situation.  Reaching out, she hesitantly began to scratch the big animal on his stomach, hearing what sounded suspiciously like a purr coming from deep inside his chest.  “You’re a funny one,” she said quietly.  “Do you know how I got out here?”

He grunted as if in answer, rolling to his belly and standing up.  The animal turned after shaking the clinging grass and dirt from his fur, looking over his shoulder as if to urge her to come with him.

“You aren’t like taking me to be supper for your family, are you?  I’m pretty small, I don’t think I’d make much of a meal.”

He grunted again, this time the grunt sounded amused, as if the animal could understand what she was saying.  But that was impossible, wasn’t it?  Then again, so was ending up in some dark forest, running for your life while being chased by a big weird looking animal with the biggest schlong she’d ever seen.  This was one for the diary that was for sure.  She took the first step toward him and felt her foot disappear through the once solid ground and into nothingness.

When she could see again, she was in bed.  But this wasn’t her bed or her bedroom.  Cautiously sitting up, she realized that even the scant protection of the small white shift was gone as the satin sheet slipped down, exposing her breasts.

“Damn,” she swore, grabbing the sheet and holding it with one hand to her chest.  “What is going on?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Terry shrieked, the voice was definitely male with a tone that sent a shiver through her even as it scared the living daylights out of her.  “Who are you?” she demanded, her head swiveling to look into the shadows to find the man.  “Where are you?”

“You didn’t answer me,” he said softly, and she jumped for it sounded as if he were right next to her.  “Do you really want to know?”

“Y-yes, I want to know,” she said, scooting quickly to the edge of the bed and pulling the sheet free of the bed to wrap around her.  “Then I want you to call me a cab and show me the way out of this funhouse.”

An arm wrapped around her waist from behind, hauling her back against a tall very male body.  Terry shrieked, wanting to fight but her arms were trapped at her sides.  Through the thin satin, she could feel the hard, muscular contours of him, including a very long, very thick erection that pushed against her butt.  “What are you doing?”

“Showing you what is going on,” he said, amusement coloring his tone. 

“I changed my mind,” she said quickly, struggling to move her arms, never realizing that her struggles were causing the slippery satin knot she’d tied to hold up the sheet to loosen.  When it gave way, covering his arm and exposing her breasts, she doubled her efforts to be free, kicking back with her feet and scoring his shins with her hard heels.  “Let me go, pervert.  Let me go or I’ll scream down this house!”

She was freed too quickly for her to react, the satin slipping the rest of the way down, leaving her naked in front of the shadowed stranger.  She shrieked, reaching down to grab the material to cover herself again, only to find it held down by a large, very masculine foot.

“I’m not a pervert,” he said softly, as she tugged at the satin.  “A pervert is someone with an unusual sexual proclivity.  There’s nothing unusual about what I’m thinking.”

“And rape is normal?” she argued, finally giving up on rescuing the material.  Instead she slowly rose, covering the blonde tuft on her sex with one hand and using her arm to try to cover the heaving mounds of her breasts.  “Listen to me, buddy, there isn’t anything normal about rape.”

“Rape?  I don’t want to rape you, Terry.”

She took a step back, feeling his eyes roaming over her exposed curves and wanting to sink into the ground.  “So if you don’t want to rape me, why have you brought me here?”

“I didn’t bring you here, you brought yourself, quite willingly if I recall.”

Terry took another step back, wishing she had an extra hand that she could use to feel behind her for the door.  She thought back on her evening.  It had been a week since Marissa had disappeared with Lukah and she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of her friend except for a phone call, telling her that she was all right.  Marissa had quit working, something Terry couldn’t blame her for considering the size of the Alexandros fortune. 

Hell, Terry couldn’t blame her for any of it, really.  Tall, gorgeous and tasty as hell, she’d have gone after Lukah Alexandros herself except for the fact he had eyes for only Marissa.  But she’d been bummed, being left with Shawna was hell.  So she’d gone out to one of her favorite clubs to dance away the blues.

“Okay, this is an alcohol induced dream.  You aren’t real and all I have to do is wake up.”  She closed her eyes after giving him one last warning glance that told him what would happen if he touched her again.  “I’ve just got to wake up.  Wake up, Terry.  You can do it, just open your eyes and the hangover will be hell.  Then I won’t ever go partying like that ever again.”  She waited a beat then slowly opened her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw her own bedroom walls.

“Thank you,” she breathed, dropping her arms.

“You’re welcome,” he said, coming up behind her once again, his hands moving over her hips and up her stomach, forcing her to step back against him.  “If you’d wanted to do this in your own room, your own bed, you’d only had to ask.”

His hands were warm against her cold skin, the contrast sending shivers through her.  His entire body was warm, making her want to curl into him instead of fight to be away from him.  He had talented hands, wonderfully callused hands that were just rough enough to feel good against her body.

“Stop,” she moaned as he moved her hair aside with his chin, his lips finding the pulse in her neck and teasing it.  He nibbled on her skin, his teeth sharp, scraping at her with just enough force to cause another shiver to shake her slender form.  “Oh God that feels good.  No,” she shook her head, trying to pull away from his lips.  “No it doesn’t feel good.”  But the moan that came from deep within her belied her every word.

His lips moved from the pulse that now thundered frantically at the base of her throat and up the skin of her neck, running his tongue up that long length and find her ear.  He nibbled at her ear lobe, taking that sensitive piece of flesh into his mouth.  “Stop and go or stay and come,” he whispered in her ear, his hands finally covering her full breasts, his palms rolling over nipples hardened in need.

“I don’t know you,” she moaned, her head falling back against his shoulder, her hands reaching behind her and finding the hard columns of his muscled thighs.  “I can’t want you like this.”

“Why not?” he purred into her ear, moving against her as she caressed him, using her nails against his skin.  “I want you.”

“Oh,” she moaned, “say it again.”

“I want you, Terry,” he whispered in her ear.  “I want to tie you to the bed, to touch every part of you.  I want you to scream with need, and then I’m going to part your legs and cover your sweet pussy with my mouth.  I’m going to fuck you with my tongue, lick your clit until you explode and then start all over again until you beg me to stop.”  He took a deep breath and she could feel the frantic beat of his heart against her back.  He was as affected by his words as she was.  “Only when you beg, only then will I fuck you.”

Her legs shook and she couldn’t stand any longer, letting him hold her up.  “Who are you?” she cried, her body burning with need, with desire for him, for this stranger and his strange powers.

“You know who I am, Terry.”  He lifted her off her feet, taking a single step that took them back to the other room, the bed, a four poster, had straps at each corner.

Terry moaned at the sight and felt a gush of warmth between her thighs.  She was wet, swollen, wanting him to do to her all he’d whispered.  She wanted to make love to this stranger and he hadn’t even kissed her yet.  He laid her down against the satin sheet, the fabric cool on her now heated flesh.  She stayed where he put her, watching as he moved around the bed, careful to keep his face averted from her eyes. 

His hands were gentle as he positioned her to his liking, glancing up once in a while to make sure she was comfortable.  Then he tightened the straps, testing them before moving to the next until she was spread eagle on the bed, her body exposed and opened to him.

Then and only then did he lift his head.

“You!” she cried, her eyes narrowing as she took in the familiar face with his piercing green eyes and the flecks of silver that framed his dark hair.  “How are you doing this?  How can you make me want you so badly when I hate you?”

Nashe reached out with one hand, his fingers touching the skin of her knee, slowly sliding up her leg to her thigh.  He watched as she tried to struggle away from his fingers, but she was bound tightly, unable to move.  “I hate you, too,” he said softly.  “You’re everything I can’t stand in a woman, opinionated, bossy, arrogant.  You look down your nose at anyone who’s different.  You think you’re so much better than me,” he growled, running just the tips of his fingers through the blonde tuft of fur at the top of her slit.  She was shaved bare beneath it, smooth and wet and totally irresistible.

“Then why are you doing this?”  Her breathing was harsh, her breasts heaving as she waited for both his answer and the touch of his fingers there, sliding inside of her.

“Because it doesn’t matter how much I hate you, or despise everything about you, I can’t get you out of my head.  Just one thought does this to me,” he said, waving at the long, hard length of his cock.  There was disgust in his voice as if he couldn’t stand the thought that she was the one that was doing this to him.  But when his eyes roamed over her flesh, they were tinged with green flames.

He bent suddenly, startling a cry out of her, his mouth moving over one breast, circling the taut peak until he had her squirming, her body moving as much as it could under him.  When he finally drew her pale nipple into his mouth, she cried out, an explosion of pleasure surging from his suckling lips into her groin. 

“God!  How can you do that?” she cried, her wrists twisting in the padded bindings.  She wanted desperately to touch him, whether to rip at his hair and tear his mouth away from her body or to hold him closer, she didn’t know.

He took his time, playing with her nipples, stroking them with his fingers, twisting and tweaking the reddening peaks before taking them into his mouth.  His hands fondled her soft flesh, growing rougher as her passion rose again.  Even the mauling felt good to her, the roughness exciting her to a new level of passion unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

It was almost a relief when he left her breasts, moving to her ribs, kissing his way down the concave smoothness of her belly to where it rose slightly just above that small tuft of blonde fur.  He looked up at her, laying his body between her thighs, planting a soft kiss on her thigh.  “Are you ready, Terry?”

“Ready?” she asked dumbly.

He smiled, his white teeth flashing in his tanned skin.  “Yeah, babe, ready for this?”  He moved with the quickness of a predator pouncing upon his prey, his lips moving across her smooth lower lips, his tongue plunging between to taste of her musk.  Her cry of surprise turned quickly to a shuddering moan, his tongue finding the small knot of her clit, flicking over it eagerly.

“Oh God, oh God,” she moaned, struggling against her restraints to move, wanting to wrap her thighs around his head and pull him further into her.  It felt so amazing, so astounding, so different than what any other man had ever done to her.  His tongue felt different, longer, thinner, seeming to wrap around her clit almost as if it was jacking her off.

Her body tightened, arching against the bindings, pulling on them.  She was so close to coming, wanting it with every fiber of her being.  “Please,” she growled, her head thrashing against the pillow. 

He lifted his head, hearing her groan as he pulled away from her at the most crucial moment.  “So soon?” he asked arrogantly.

“Shut up and keep going,” she snarled.

“Whatever the lady desires,” Nashe chuckled, bending his head toward the sweet flesh he found he craved.

“How about your head on a fucking platter?” she snapped before moaning in bliss as he lashed at her swollen flesh with his tongue.

He punished her with his mouth, capturing her clit and sucking upon it before nibbling with teeth that felt almost too sharp.  It was the last little push she needed and she threw her head back on the pillow, her teeth biting into her bottom lip until it bled to keep from screaming out his name.  Agonizing pleasure swamped her, leaving her breathless, sensitive and limp.

But still he continued, on and on until she felt as if she’d been ravaged, her body one long sensitive nerve ending, his for the taking.  The waves of bliss were endless, one after the other, piling on top of her until she gave up, screaming his name in a hoarse voice.

He was gone.  Terry blinked blearily, still unable to move.  “Nashe?” she whispered, her lips swollen, her mouth dry from the punishing ecstasy he’d put her through.

Nashe sank down next to her on the bed, reaching over to the empty night stand and bringing back a goblet filled with icy cold water.  He held it to her mouth, letting her sip it before dipping his fingers into the top and rubbing her taut nipples with the frigid drops.  Setting the glass down again, he leaned over her, his lips parting to pull her cold nipples into the searing heat of his mouth.

“Ahhh,” she groaned, her back arching as he played with one peak while suckling upon the other.  “Stop, Nashe, God please.”

“Too much tongue?” he asked, his face splitting into a huge grin as he saw the look in her beautiful blue eyes.  He reached up, wiping the blood off of her chin with his thumb, blood that had been drawn while she fought against him to keep him from hearing her scream.

Terry watched as he brought his thumb to his mouth, licking off the smear of blood before he came closer again, his lips gentle as they covered her.  A sense of surrealism took her as she felt her blood heat once more, her body craving his touch, craving his possession.  The urge to feel him inside of her, to know if she could take him all inside her body seemed almost too much to resist and she gave in.

“Fuck me,” she whispered against his lips.

Nashe lifted his head, staring down at her.  “What did you say?”

“You heard me, you prick.”  Now that she’d made the decision, she just wanted to get it over with.  “Go ahead and fuck me.  You aren’t going to stop until you get what you want, so just fucking do it.”

“Well, that was one of the nicest invitations I’ve ever received,” he said sarcastically.

“You’re the one who told me you wouldn’t leave me until I begged you to fuck me, right?”  She didn’t wait for him to answer, hurrying on before she could lose her nerve.  “Okay, listen closely.  Oh Nashe, you big burly stud, fuck me please.  I’m begging you, stick that big, hard cock into my tiny, wet pussy,” she fluttered her eyelashes at him as she finished her sarcastically insipid begging.

He stared down at her without moving but for the tick that twitched at the side of his mouth, then he sat up, his hand moving from her breast.  “You can be a real bitch, Terry.”

“Aww, does that mean you aren’t going to fuck me?” she said sweetly.

“No, it just means that you’re a real piece of work.”  He moved over her once more and she felt his cock, hard and thick, at the entrance to her sex.

“Wait!” she breathed, struggling against the restraints.  “At least wear a condom.”

He dropped to his elbows, his hands smoothing back her wet blonde hair from her face.  “Does that mean you aren’t on the pill?” he teased, moving his hips just enough to push the tip of his cock into her and then back out.

“Yes,” she groused.  “That’s exactly what that means.  Besides,” she said with a gasp, “I don’t know how many skanky women you’ve been dipping your wick into.  I don’t want to catch anything.”

Nashe laughed, he had the unmitigated gall to laugh! 

“What’s so funny, you bastard?”

“You are, my sweet.  You’re a hoot, Ter.”  He captured her head with his hands, finding her mouth as he began to push inside of her.  She could feel him stretching her, her wet flesh parting around his invading cock even as his tongue pushed inside of her mouth.  Either sensation was enough to send her soaring into bliss but the combination had her forgetting about pregnancy and disease, crying out in pleasure.

It seemed to go on and on until the fullness was all she could think of.  He pulled his mouth from hers, staring down the length of their bodies, watching as his cock disappeared inside her wet sex.

“Oh God,” she groaned, unable to believe how good, how right he felt.  When he reached behind him and undid the restraints on her ankles, she barely had time to groan at the relief she felt before he hooked her knees over his elbows, bending her almost in half, opening her to take all of him. 

“You can call me Nashe,” he growled, looking down at her with that sexy half smile on his face. 

Her brain was on a sensation overload, unable to come up with a snappy comeback or even a suitably foul name to call him.  Instead, she tipped her head back, her throat arched as he began to move inside of her.  His strokes were long and slow, and she could feel him watching her.  Unable to resist, she opened her eyes, getting caught in the green fires in his.

Terry could see the pleasure he was feeling, she felt as if she could see into his soul.  There was a strange blackness there.  It was a sadness, a pain that was almost all encompassing.  She wanted to reach out, to touch him and try to take away that pain, cleanse his soul from whatever had made it so scarred and black.

But she could do little more than lay there, his pawn to take and play with.  She was a receptacle for his lust, a lust that she felt as well.

“You keep looking at me like that,” he panted, “and I’m going to think you don’t hate me anymore.  Come on, Terry, you’re not falling in love with me are you?”

“I take it back,” she snapped, though her voice was hoarse and her breathing was as harsh as his.  “You aren’t a prick.  You’re nothing more than an asshole.”

The smile that flitted across his face made her long to reach out and smack him.  Instead, she closed her eyes, denying him and herself of that closeness.  She turned her face, burying it against her arm and the pillow.

With her eyes closed, she could do little more than concentrate on how he felt inside of her, how good it felt to be taken by him.  The tension built inside of her, growing and growing with every hard thrust of his deliciously made cock.  Tiny whines and whimpers were torn from her, muffled by her arm.

“Fuck,” he growled, slamming into her.  “You feel so good babe, you’re so damn tight.  It feels like you’re trying to squeeze my dick off.”

His crude words sent a thrill through her that she didn’t understand.  She hated guys who talked dirty to her during sex, usually finding it distracting.  But with Nashe, Terry felt as if she’d go up in flames.

“Tell me how it feels, babe,” he whispered, leaning close to her ear and taking the lobe in his mouth to bite down on.

“Wonderful,” she managed to squeak out.  “Don’t stop.”

“I don’t think I could,” he growled.

Her body shook at each punishing thrust, her breasts ached and felt swollen.  She could feel his hard cock rubbing up against her clit with every movement.  She was on the edge of a cliff wanting to soar, waiting for that last push that would send her into the oblivion of ecstasy.

Then she was over, flying, circling on an updraft of pleasure so intense, her toes curled.  She screamed, she couldn’t help it.  His name burst from her lips.  Then she felt him, his cock swelling then his come bursting from the end, spurting inside of her.  The last she heard was his moan which sounded suspiciously like her name before darkness took her.

* * *

The siren like noise of the alarm clock had Terry almost jumping out of bed.  She glanced around the room frantically, searching for some sign of Nashe.  There was nothing.  Glancing down, she was surprised to find that she still wore the tank top and pajama pants she’d put on the night before.  Her face twisted into a confused grimace and she hurried to the bathroom, stripping off clothing as she went.

There had to be some sign of him, she thought.  There had to.  It had been too real to have been a dream.  Besides, none of her wet dreams had ever been that freaky or had starred a man she couldn’t stand.

Pulling off her panties, she stood in front of the full length mirror in her bathroom, staring at herself.  She should have been a mass of bruises, cuts and scrapes from the trees she’d run through should have marred her soft skin.  But there was nothing, not a single bruise that she could see.

“Damn it, it had to be real,” she breathed, turning around and around in front of the mirror.  She even went as far as to get a smaller mirror, looking for signs of penetration.  Nothing.

“It didn’t happen,” she said as if trying to convince herself.  She felt like a fool.

Turning, she started the shower, determined to forget about her weird dream and Nashe Wolfe.

* * *

Across town in a small condo, Nashe sat up in bed, a wide smile on his lips.  He could still taste her on his lips.  “Terry Taylor, who’d have thought you to be such a kinky little thing.”  Lying back on the bed, he crossed his arms under his head.  He still had a few hours before he had to be up and getting to the restaurant.

Closing his eyes, he conjured up the image of the blonde haired, blue eyed vixen who’d played such a wonderful part in his dreams.

Remember:

Subscribe to my blog and enter your name in to win one of my enovels.  Deadline is Oct 15...

Wish me Luck!

After all of the drama from last week, I'm going to the doctor tomorrow.  I'm a bit excited about getting my prescriptions refilled and about having someone tell me that I didn't have another stroke so that I can finally tell myself that.  Anyway, I'm going to a new doctor.  The one I was seeing was rude, self-important and dismissed any and all concerns we had.  She had a great habit of making me feel stupid and I am not stupid.

I feel like I used to do when I'd take my car to the mechanics.  I knew what was wrong with it but when I would tell them, I'd get the pat on the head and told they'd call when it was ready.  I almost always was right if they'd ever have bothered to just listen.  I'm praying this new doctor is going to be a good one.  So wish me luck!!!

Pick of the Litter

From book sales, I would have to say Pick of the Litter  is one of my best novels.  I enjoyed writing it and the coupling of a panther were to a human.  Lukah seemed pretty damn sexy to me.  So okay, here we go with an excerpt from one of my firsts...

Chapter One

 

Hands reached out, ripping at her shirt, tearing at the thin fabric of her skirt, pulling it away from her struggling body.  Even as she ran, she knew she was no match for the strength of those hands, or for their number for there were far more men there than she had seen before.  How they had become fixated upon her, she did not know, but for now, she was in trouble and scared for her life.

She screamed, over and over as she pushed away the hands that groped at her body, hating the clammy fingers and grasping hands as they pinched and prodded at her.  She was caught in a heavy grip, a faceless man, head hooded in shadows, laughed at her dilemma while she sobbed and begged for his help.  Instead, he tore at the soft lace of her bra, exposing her breasts to this roomful of depraved beasts.

A collective gasp rose from the throng as the pale mounds sprang free of their captive bonds, her nipples quivering brown tips in the center of the firm flesh.  His fingers pinched at one of her sensitive nipples, pulling on it as if to see how far it would stretch, hurting her further.  Then she was pushed to the next man, his lips fastening around that same nipple, his tongue lapping against the sore flesh.  He suckled hard upon her and she cringed away, trying desperately to break his hold.

It was so dark, the room seemed foggy and out of focus, the faces of the men around her swirling like a rainbow of lascivious lust.  She was torn from one man’s arms, pulled into another, hands grabbing at her breasts, pawing at her thighs, one slipping between and she felt stubby fingers pushing at her sex, pushing inside of her.  Tears of pain and humiliation streamed down her cheeks, cries of rage and terror seared her throat.  She screamed NO! as loud as she could, but it only made them laugh.

Then she was lifted, held high in a pair of strong arms, against a hairy sweaty chest, taken down to a smelly mattress upon the floor.  Hands reached out, grasping her ankles, pulling them roughly apart.  Other hands grabbed cruelly for her wrists, pulling them above her head, holding her trapped in their inflexible grips.  She was held spread eagle in front of the lusty gazes of strange men, her head rolling between her trapped arms.

He fell upon her body, his mouth finding hers, his tongue pushing past her lips and inside.  It tasted like beer and stale tobacco, felt wet and slimy, like meat left out too long.  His hand was between her splayed thighs, pushing against her soft flesh, rubbing and probing, hurting her even more.  His eyes met hers and he brought his hand up to his mouth, spitting upon his fingers before once more shoving them inside of her. 

It hurt, it burned, the pain impossible to escape as he thrust what felt like his whole hand inside of her, laughing as he made comments to his friends about how he would fuck her and teach her what a woman should be like, not the hard, cold, bitch she was.

Then she felt it against her, his cock, seeming impossibly big and hard.  He moved his hand, using it to aim that rancid flesh so that she felt it rubbing against her body.

Fear, terrifying, incapacitating fear, held her motionless as he lined himself up, his hips already rocking as if he couldn’t wait to be inside her shrinking flesh.  She felt as if she were trapped in her body, as if this was playing out with someone else as the main star, someone else was about to be raped by eight men, her body torn open and probably left bleeding in some back alley.  It couldn’t be her, it couldn’t.  This stuff only happened to other people.

He pushed into her, his cock stretching her unprepared flesh, ripping her so that her blood coated his shaft, easing his way.  A shrill scream was torn from her throat, echoing in the room, drowned out by their hideous talk and raucous laughter.  Words were hurled, jokes and constant urgings given.  “Fuck her harder.  Make her come.  Show her how to be a woman.”  Others just urged him to hurry, anxious for their turn upon her resisting body. 

A growl split the air around her, loud and feral sounding.  She could see over her attacker’s shoulder, see the faces of the men as they noticed the intruder for the very first time.  They backed away slowly, some pulling up their pants, zipping and buttoning as they moved away from where she was being fucked by their friend.

He never stopped moving against her, his grunts and groans sounding loud and horrid in the now quiet room.  His body was heavy on top of hers, not moving but to grind his hideous flesh into her harder no matter how she tried to push him off now that her hands were free.  She reached towards his face, her fingers curved into claws, her nails primed to feel his skin digging beneath them.

But he was gone before she could, lifted off of her body and tossed across the room like a weightless rag doll, leaving her still splayed open, unable to close her thighs for the pain that throbbed between them was horrid.  She stared in astonishment as screams of pain and running feet could be heard in the room, watching the men who’d tried to rape her now being abused by the hands of the stranger.

Bones snapped and crunched, jaws were broken, and not a single man was left untouched.  Her rapist was left for last, to watch as the other men fell prey to the stranger.  His eyes were huge and she managed to sit up, anxious to see for herself what was going to happen to him.  She saw the man, his body clothed in black from the black silk shirt he wore to the black motorcycle boots on his feet, lift her rapist with one hand, holding him a few inches from the ground effortlessly.

“Eight men against one woman,” he said, his accent strange and intriguing.  “Not very fair odds, sport.  Perhaps I should take you out and let you meet eight of my friends.  We’ll see how you like being the pawn.”  He smiled darkly and her eyes flashed to his face, amazed at the handsome mien and the fact that he wasn’t even breathing heavy.  It almost made her forget what had happened to her.

“No, please,” the man croaked, barely able to breath because of the strangle hold upon his throat.  “I…I’m sorry.  I won’t do it again.”

Her rescuer smiled again, his other hand coming out to rest against the now limp piece of flesh that was still sticky with her blood.  “Perhaps we should make sure of it,” he said softly, and for a moment, she swore his eyes glowed in the dimness of the room.

“NO!” her rapist screeched, struggling twice as hard now.

“Then you would prefer what is behind door number two?” he asked the struggling man, laughing softly.

“Yes, anything but that, please don’t do that.”

He smiled, the coldest grin she’d ever seen in her life, and lifted the man even higher, taking him to the doorway of the building and opening it.  He left the room with the man and only then did she wonder what would happen to her now.  She looked around for her clothing, seeing bits and pieces of it scattered throughout the room, but nothing that even resembled the shirt and skirt she’d been wearing when she’d come into this room, mistaking it for the bar her friend had promised to meet her in.

She had nothing to wear.  She was alone, for now, in a room with the groaning of seven injured men.  She had no idea what was going to happen next.  It took her a moment to stand, for every move sent twinges of pain and brought notice to new injuries.  But she would not meet the man who had rescued her flat on her back with her crotch bare to his eyes.  She moved around the room, carefully staying out of arms reach of the men, searching for something to wear.

A jacket was draped over her shoulders, dwarfing her frame and coming down to the tops of her thighs.  She turned her head, meeting amber eyes that shone with concern.  “Oh,” she muttered.  “I didn’t hear you come back in.”

“Put your arms in the sleeves,” he said, that accent making her heart beat faster.  He reached down, zipping the front of the jacket up as if she were a child.  She shivered as the back of his fingers touched her skin.  “There now, that’s better, isn’t it?”

She nodded inanely, unable to stop looking at him.  He was perfect, tall, dark and tasty, with those strange amber eyes that seemed to slant up at the edges like a cat’s.  Perhaps it seemed strange to feel a spurt of lust at the sight of a handsome face after what she’d just been through, but it was there all the same, tingling in her belly and making her wonder if she’d gone insane.

“Will you come with me?” he asked, using just the tip of one finger under her chin to raise her face to his.

She nodded, feeling almost as if she were under some kind of spell.  Then she shook herself.  “Where?” she asked.

“I want to take you someplace safe and away from here.  This area of the city has a lot of bad people in it, as you found out,” he stroked her cheek with his finger, gently calming her fears with his soft touch.

“M…My purse,” she whispered.  “It’s here somewhere.”

“You’re bleeding,” he said, as softly.  “Sit down, I’ll find your purse.”

She could feel the blood sliding down her thighs from where that foul man had ripped her.  Walking was agony and she made her way slowly to one of the chairs that had been knocked over in the ruckus.  But once more he was there before her, reaching down and picking up the chair, straightening it and then holding her hand to help her sit.  Sit she did, but gingerly, for every move was painful.

“What’s your name?” she asked him, stopping him from moving away from her in his search for her things.

“Lukah,” he said.  “Lukah Alexandros.”

The name sounded as foreign as his accent and made her long to ask more questions but she could sense a strange urgency about him as if he wanted to be away from this place.  Truthfully, she did too, for it would haunt her nightmares for many nights to come.

“My name is Marissa Spencer,” she said, before letting go of his hand.  “Thank you for being here.”  And then, to her utmost horror, she burst into tears.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his hands coming gently around her.  Marissa felt the smooth silk of his shirt against her cheek, the heat of him surrounding her.  She could smell his scent, something woodsy and almost wild smelling, mixed with the scent of male that had mixed signals going to her brain.  She’d been raped, violated in a way most foul and here she was, lusting after a man only minutes later.  Was she a slut like those men had said?

His body was hard, muscled and sleek and he held her until her sobs subsided, his hands stroking over the length of her red hair, untangling the curls with his fingers.  He soothed and calmed her, crooning soft words in a tone that was almost a purr.  She finally looked up at him with damp eyes the color of soft heather.  “Thank you,” Marissa whispered, rubbing her hands over her face as he let go of her.

“Are you all right for a few minutes?” he asked her gently, waiting for her nod before he rose and started around the room again, finally coming back to her with her small brown leather purse in his hands.  “Your clothes are gone,” he said, his voice sounding apologetic, as if it were his fault that those men had pawed her and raped her.

She could do nothing but nod, pain and fatigue wearing her down.  She tried to stand but her legs gave out from under her, embarrassing her.  With little effort, Lukah lifted her in his arms, turning and striding out of the building.  The night air was tinged with the lightening of dawn as he took her towards his car, opening the passenger side and sliding her onto the soft, supple leather seat.

He hurried around to the other side, sliding in and gunning the engine, taking off with a squeal of tires as Marissa gasped and grabbed for the door handle.  He sped through the city streets that were mostly deserted at this time of night, finally turning down a roadway that led into a multitude of subdivisions and entering one that was richer than most.  He hadn’t said a word in the car, seeming to concentrate upon his driving instead of speaking. 

Lukah pulled the car into a small driveway that led to a huge gate, hitting a button on the dash of his car.  She couldn’t help but be impressed as the gates parted way, letting him drive through before closing behind him.

“Where are we?” she said softly, looking around at the landscaped gardens and the small lake.  “Is this like a private park or something?”

Lukah laughed, turning his head to look down at her.  “No, it’s my home.  I thought maybe you’d like to be somewhere you wouldn’t have to worry about being safe.”

Marissa felt her stomach turn cold.  “You brought me to your house,” she said softly and slowly, trying to understand what he had meant.

“Oh God, no, Marissa, I didn’t mean anything like that.”  He reached out and touched her hand cautiously.  “I have a huge house and you’re more than welcome to any room there.  We can call the police if you want to report the crime, but I don’t think those guys would think of coming within a mile of you now.”

She felt the gentleness of his hand and saw the look in his eyes.  He wouldn’t hurt her; she knew it like she knew her own name.  “Okay, for tonight,” she said, her mouth opening wide as a yawn surprised her.  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she covered her mouth with her hand just in time because he drove up to his house, a huge mansion with a four car garage.  He drove the car inside, parking it next to cars she had never seen outside of adventure movies.

Marissa tried to get the car door opened, cringing as the pain in her body reminded her of the trauma she’d just suffered.  Lukah was there quickly, opening the door and lifting her out, making her feel tiny and weightless in his arms.  It wasn’t a scary feeling, no matter the manhandling she’d gotten but one that was reassuring.

He opened the door from the garage that lead to a kitchen huge enough to cook for an army.  It was spotless and gleaming, dark slate counters and cherry colored cabinets with stainless steel appliances and terracotta floors.  Even the sinks were gleaming and she doubted there were enough crumbs around to feed an anorexic mouse.

“You live here alone?”  Marissa asked, taking in the luxurious furnishing of the rooms he passed through.

“Me and my aid, though he won’t be around until later in the day.  I tend to be a night owl and sleep most of the morning away,” he admitted sheepishly.  “Occasionally I have family show up and it’s always nice to have a place for them to stay while they are in town.”  He stopped in a room done in reds and grays, a huge micro suede sofa taking up one side.  Slowly, trying not to hurt her, he settled her onto it.

“Oh, no, I’ll stain it,” she cried, trying to lever herself up but the bruised muscles in her thighs screamed in pain.

“Don’t worry, it will come clean.  But maybe we should take you to the emergency room,” he said quietly, reaching behind her to drag the throw from the back of the couch.  He laid it across her lap, hiding a delectable pair of legs that he’d been trying not to stare at since he’d met her.  They were long and slim, leanly muscled with slender thighs that had his libido singing, despite the fact that he’d rescued her from that gang of men.

He hadn’t been able to believe it, hearing her cry and walking into that room.  Those men had been gathered around her, their hands busily stroking their cocks while another man grunted over her.  He’d seen her eyes, the shock and horror in the depths of them, the blackness of her pupils against the purple-gray irises, and hadn’t been able to turn away.  This wasn’t his gig, saving women.  At least not saving human women, he tended to run with his own kind and Marissa Spencer was definitely not of that class.

She had a fine boned beauty that was startling, even with her mascara running across her cheeks and the red welt of a hand print on her face.  That print had him wanting to snarl, to go back to that room and finish off those men in the way of his people, a way he would find most satisfying.  Instead, he took a deep breath, leaning over to brush her hair from her face.  “Would you like to go to the emergency room?”

“No, no hospital or doctors, they’d want to call the cops.”  She shook her head, wishing she could start the entire day over.

“How about a shower then, if you don’t want to report them?  I’ll find you something to put on afterwards,” he said, lifting her in his arms again.  He started towards the stairs, tucking the blanket in around her.  “Maybe a bath would be better,” he said.  “You could use the tub in my bathroom if you’d like,” he offered, reaching the top of the stairs, not even the tiniest bit out of breath.

“If you’re sure I won’t be putting you out…” she said, hesitating.

“Nope.”  Lukah walked down a long hall past a number of closed doors and then opened one at the end of the hallway.  He stepped into a room that was built for luxury, done in a male fashion with dark colors and sleek fabrics.  A bed that seemed the size of a small lake sat in the middle of the room on a raised dais.  It was covered with a dark comforter of what looked like suede in stripes of different shades of blues.  Heavy oak bedroom furniture was situated around the room on a carpet of creamy white.  Expensive water colors were on the walls and one wall was covered with dark drapes, gauzy white sheers showing in between.

Lukah moved through the room, opening a door off the far wall and stepping into the bathroom.  If the bedroom shouted luxury, the bathroom screamed decadence.  Navy tile was on the floor and on the surround of the tub, candle holders held scented candles built into the surround, the bath tub was huge and deep, curved softly to fit the body.  A huge steam shower with four heads took up one whole end, French doors led onto a small balcony that was full of potted plants. 

He set her down gently, going to the tub and turning on the water and carefully checking the temperature.  “I’ll go find you something to wear, unless you need my help to get in?”  At the shake of her head, he smiled gently.  “Take your time, there’s bubble bath on the side and the switch for the jets is right over there,” he said, pointing at the small toggle switch next to the waterfall faucet.

He turned to leave only to feel her hand grab his.  “Thank you,” she said softly.  “Not just for rescuing me but… for everything,” she added, suddenly feeling shy.

“It was my pleasure, Marissa.  Do not worry.  You are safe here.”  He smiled down at her and she felt her breath seem to catch in her throat.  He squeezed her hand softly before letting hers go and leaving the room, quietly closing the door behind him with a soft click of the latch.

Marissa stood slowly, unwrapping the blanket and then unzipping his jacket.  She slowly shrugged it off, feeling her muscles protest every move as she walked over to the huge mirror that hung above the long counter top.

Her gasp was audible, her hand coming up to touch her swollen and bruised lips as she stared at the mess reflected in the mirror.  Her hair was mussed, tangled from the hands grasping and pulling at it, her face was red, her eye bruised from where she’d been slapped.  Little bruises could be seen over the length of her pale skin from where their fingers had grabbed and groped at her mercilessly. 

Marissa could see the blood drying on her thighs, the scratches and bruises from their hands and the bite marks that were on her shoulders and breasts.  “Oh God,” she whimpered quietly.  It hit her suddenly and hard.  She’d been raped.  She could have been killed.  Even now she could still feel their hands and lips on her body, and worse, she could feel him, his cock still thrusting so painfully inside of her.

With a cry that she stifled by pushing her fist into her mouth, she hurried as fast as her battered body would handle and went to the tub, sitting gingerly on the edge and slipping her legs into the water.  She grabbed the bubble bath, pouring a liberal amount into the water before sliding into the tub.

Heat soaked into her skin and into her muscles but it wasn’t enough.  She felt dirty, violated in the worst way a woman could be.  Grabbing the soap that she found in the small dish set on the side of the tub, she rubbed it into a heavy lather, scrubbing at her body until her skin was red and sore.  She managed to stand, lifting her leg so that it rested against the side of the tub, opening her body up.

With hands that shook, she used the soap on her woman’s flesh, scrubbing gently at her sex, ridding it of the traces of blood and traces of him, of her rapist.  She rinsed and then scrubbed again, gasping as her fingers found abraded flesh in the tender mound.

When she was finished, when she finally felt the tiniest bit cleaner, she sat in the tub, her head bent forward, arms wrapped around her knees.  The tears fell, silent drops that splashed into the water, quiet sobs shaking her slender shoulders.  She cried until the water grew cold and her head hurt, finally getting up and forcing herself out of the tub and into one of the thick fluffy towels Lukah had set out for her.

It was huge, wrapping around her almost twice and she savored the softness of it against her bruised skin.  Sitting on the counter, she found his brush and used it to pull the tangles out of her damp curls.

Marissa sat the brush down when her hair was silky soft and tangle free, staring at the closed door of the bathroom.  He’d said he was going to bring her some clothing to put on, hadn’t he?  She went to the door, pressing her ear to the sturdy wooden portal and listening intently.

Silence greeted her.  If he was in there, he was being awfully quiet about it.  Why was she so worried about him seeing her in a towel anyway, when he’d seen her trapped beneath that bastard, his body slamming into hers?  She sighed, reaching for the door handle and turning it quietly.

The bedroom was empty, a small stack of clothing sitting on top of the huge bed.  She hurried over to it as fast as her bruised and sore body would let her, picking up the soft sweat shirt and pulling it on before dropping the towel.

The shirt was as huge on her as the jacket had been, covering her from her neck to the top of her thighs.  It was soft, smelling of fabric softener and warm.  Pulling on the sweat pants, she tied them securely around her slender waist, laughing as they hung on her.  She rolled up the bottoms and then sat on the bed and pulled on the thick socks he’d left for her, feeling infinitely better now that she was dressed.

The towel was hung on the towel bar to dry and she picked up his jacket and the throw, folding both and laying them over the edge of his bed.  Then with a determined stride, she headed toward the door, opening it and heading down the long corridor and then down the stairs.

The house seemed too quiet, almost as if she were completely alone.  Marissa stared around at the different rooms she could see from the stairway, finally deciding to try the kitchen to look for Lukah.

Two steps into the living room, a low growl stopped her in her tracks.  It was loud and menacing, a feral sound that had the hair on the back of her neck standing on end.

“Hello?” she whispered

It came again, that low growl, louder still and she whirled in her tracks, a small shriek escaping from between her lips before she could slap her hand over her mouth.  Standing in front of her was a big black cat.  It was way too big to be a domestic house cat, too powerful and black to be anything but what it was, a panther.

It strolled toward her as if it had all the time in the world, its black coat shining in the light coming from the windows, its eyes gleaming a strange amber.  There was a look in those eyes that was terrifying, one of intelligence and hatred as it stared at her.

Marissa couldn’t take her eyes off the beast, her heart pounding in her throat, fear depriving her of what little strength she had.  She’d survived rape and now she was going to be eaten by a panther.  Could this day get any worse?  Taking one tiny step backward, and then another, she tried to put some distance between herself and the big cat.

It crouched, its long black tail flicking ominously, its big padded paws looking incredibly large with sharp talon like claws that it seemed to delight in digging into the thick carpeting, almost as if it were trying to frighten her.

With a sudden roar, it pounced!

One more note!

Mirage from Hunter Hunted is up for an award in the 11th annual Literotica awards.  Check it out and please, remember to place your votes for your favorites.  Here's the link:  Awards

A New Contest

I figured that with a new blog I needed to have a new contest.  I will be choosing a name from any who subscribed to my blog and give away a copy of one of my books to be chosen by the winner.  So, if you want to get enrolled, sign up for a subscription of my blog and you'll be automatically enrolled.  Ending date to be involved is October 15.  Check it out!

Sanctuary

I wrote Sanctuary over a period of about four months.  It was a fun piece to write, which is why, when Coming Together asked me to write something for them, I revisited the town in Ryder's Mate.  That was my first try at a gay male story and has been a big seller.  I hope you enjoy this excerpt.  The book can be found in enovel as well as in print through Eternal Press.  Be Safe!

* * * * *

Chapter One

 

“Sanctuary.”

The word trembled from Chloe Sinclair’s lips, and she glanced down the road.  The sky was darkening and lightning flashed in the distance.  Chloe glanced up at the road sign one more time.  “Sanctuary it is,” she said lightly before settling her backpack a little easier on her shoulders and starting down the side of the road.

She’d barely walked ten feet when a car pulled up in front of her.  As she walked abreast of it, the side window rolled down and a weird smell caught her nose.  The driver leaned closer to the passenger side, a big-bellied man who was smoking a cigar.  “Need a ride, girlie?”

Chloe waved a hand in front of her face as the smoke he blew out the window threatened to choke her.  Cheap cigar, bad breath and a lack of personal hygiene made her feet hurt less, and she shook her head.  “No, thanks.  I’m almost where I’m going.”

“You aren’t thinking of going to Sanctuary?” the man said, his tone one of horrified disbelief.  “You don’t want to go there, girlie.  You go there and you won’t be heard from again.”

“What are you talking about?”  Chloe let her hands rest on her slim, jean-clad hips and blew a strand of black hair away from her face.  “Come on, I’m a bit old to listen to ghost stories.”

“I’ve been driving these roads for a lot of years, girlie.  These aren’t stories.  Lots of hitchhikers go missing on this road.”

A clap of thunder rent the air around them, followed by a gust of breeze that sent a shiver down Chloe’s spine.  “Is it always so cold around here?”

“It’s Michigan in October, girlie.  You’re lucky we don’t have snow.  Now, do you want a ride or not?”

Chloe glanced down the dark road and the forest that lay just beyond the ditches.  Another shiver shuddered through her, this one not due to the cold.  A sharp wind blew through the trees, stirring up the leaves and making a rattling kind of noise that had her reaching for the door handle. 

The man laughed as she tossed her duffle bag down on the floor of the front seat, taking a deep breath of the fresh cold air before sitting down in the smoke-filled car.  “I’m just going up the road to Sanctuary.  You can drop me off there.”

“You’re a crazy girlie, but if that’s what you want.”  He chuckled and chewed on the end of his horrible-smelling cigar, casting glances at Chloe as he pulled back onto the road.  “My name is Wayne.”

“Chloe,” she said simply.

“So where you from?”

“Idaho originally.  But I’ve been traveling all over.  I want to write a book about my travels.” 

“Really, what about your family?”

Chloe stared over at him, getting a creepy feeling.  She’d learned quickly on the road that she needed to follow her instincts.  “Oh, I call them every night.  Just to check in and make my mom feel better.  I didn’t call once and she had the cops out looking for me.”  She reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear, tugging down on the stocking cap that she was wearing.  A set of winter long johns had her jeans hugging her slight curves and in the heat of the car, she was beginning to feel warm again, finally.  She dreaded the thought of going back to walking.  Rides had been few and far between since she’d crossed the Ohio border near Toledo.  She’d gotten only as far as Adrian yesterday and had managed to find a room at the YMCA there.  With her money running low, she was going to have to take a couple weeks off travelling and find somewhere and get a job.

But for now, the thought of work was the last thing on her mind.  The first was the fact that the man she was getting the ride from now had his hand on her knee and was slowly moving it upward.  Chloe lifted it and place it back on his own leg.  “I don’t pay for rides that way.  If you need payment, I can give you gas money or you can let me out right now.”

“Oh, come on, sugar, what’s a little slap and tickle between a couple of travelers.”  His hand went back to her knee, and he squeezed hard.  When she tried to fight, he turned down a side road and into the woods. 

Chloe reached for the door handle, only to hear the auto locks click.  Hitting the button on her side of the car did nothing, and the small knob in the door was impossible to pull up.  She turned back just in time to see the old man roll down his window and toss out his cigar.  “What are you doing?!” she cried.

“Sugar, if you don’t know then you’re a hell of a lot more naïve than I took you for.”  He scooted closer, lifting the middle divider in the seats and reaching for her.

Chloe fought, kicking, screaming, scratching at his face.  Wayne responded, balling up his fist and hitting her in the face.  It knocked her back in the car seat, dazing her so that everything around her seemed soft and fuzzy, just out of reach.

Wayne grabbed her again, his hand pulling open her jacket and yanking up her shirt and the long-sleeve thermal undershirt she wore.  Her breasts in their pretty pink lace cups were exposed, as well as a lot of satiny skin.  “Oh, now ain’t that just so sweet.  I love a girl who wears pink, especially pink lace.”  His hand rose to her cheek, moving her face toward his, and his lips found hers, thrusting his nasty tongue inside her mouth.

She turned her face, fighting the urge to vomit from the pain and from the smell of him.  “Stop,” she moaned.

“Oh come on, sweet thing, you know you want this as much as I do.  Quit fighting now.”  There was the whisking sound of metal against metal, and then he held up a slender knife that looked wickedly sharp.  “You don’t want me using this now, do you?”

Chloe’s eyes grew wide when she saw the knife, her hand scrabbling at the door even as she shook her head.  “No, please.”

Her gasping plea put a smile on Wayne’s face, and he slid his hand over her cheek.  “Good girl, now hold really still, I don’t want to accidentally cut you.”  With that, he turned the knife in his hand, sliding it between the lacey pink cups with the sharp side away from her skin.  It took but a small twist of his wrist for the lethally sharp blade to part the cups, her breasts exposed to the cold and his eyes.

They were round and full, with tight pink nipples that had a darker ring around them.  He growled deep in his throat at the sight and his hand came up, his fingers grasping one of her nipples and twisting it harshly.  Chloe reacted before she could think, slapping his fat face as hard as she could.

As soon as she did, she realized what she’d done, her fingers going to her mouth as she gasped in horror.  His head had turned with the blow and now he slowly turned back to her, the anger in his eyes scaring her even more.

“I-I…” she began.  But he didn’t allow her to finish, balling his fist again and hitting her hard in the jaw. 

“Bitch!” he growled.  But she was beyond hearing him, a buzzing in her head stopping her from hearing anything.  Her eyes rolled in her head, pain bursting in her like a huge firecracker.  She didn’t feel the knife coming out and slicing at her jeans, tearing them until he could pull them off of her.  Her long johns were next, leaving her clad in nothing but the lacey pink thong that had gone with the bra he’d already cut off of her.

“Oh yeah,” he said aloud.  “Gotta love a girl who wears pink lace.”  He reached out, grabbing a hold of the front of her thong, ripping it from her body, the waistband digging cruelly into her skin before it parted.  He lifted the scraps of material, bringing them to his face and inhaling deeply before stuffing the pink lace into the front pocket of his shirt.

Wayne moved her limp body around until he could reach her the way he wanted, his fingers pushing into her dry sex, his nails scraping against her soft flesh.  Pain had her stiffening, her hands coming up to push his away.  “No…” she moaned.

She sighed when his hands fell away, opening her eyes and staring unseeingly around her.  Noises began to sift through the buzzing and she heard a rustling, unsure of what it was.  She found out quickly.  Wayne pressed his body against her, his naked cock peeking out from under his fat stomach.  “Come here, bitch,” he ordered, grabbing her legs until she was sitting up on his lap, her back pressed against the steering wheel that he’d pushed up.

“You ready, girlie?” he asked, his foul breath hitting her in the face.  “I’m going to fuck you up good.”

He wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling her even closer to his cock.  She could feel it against her, pushing into her thigh, bruising her leg.

“Nooo,” she cried.  “No, stop!”

He laughed, his mouth finding her nipple and suckling upon it hard, leaving a bruise on her breast.  His hand grabbed her breast, his fingers squeezing hard enough that her flesh was coming out between his fingers.  He twisted it, making her scream again as the pain became too much to bear. 

“Oh yeah, girlie, sing for me.”  He bit down on her nipple, the rubbery tip splitting, her blood filling his mouth as she screamed again, her hands beating at him, uncaring of anything but that the pain stop.  He slapped her breasts and then her face, drawing blood from her nose and sending her head flying backwards to hit the windshield.

“You’d better not crack that glass, girlie.  I’d have to put you to work to pay for it if you did.”

She mumbled something unintelligible, pushing against his chest with her fists.  They fell weakly away, falling to her side as he laughed at her feeble attempts to get free.  “I thought you’d have more spunk than this.”  With a grunt, he pushed up and into her, hearing her squeal of pain and greeting it with a laugh.  “You sound like a pig.  Piggy, piggy,” he laughed, pulling on her thighs to push himself into her further.

Chloe screamed, scratching at his face while trying to lift herself off of him.  She’d almost succeeded when he slammed his fist into her belly.  She bent over as far as she could, her mouth gaping open as she tried to catch her breath.

“Fucking bitch,” Wayne growled, wiping blood off his cheek where she’d scratched him.  He lifted her, slapping her face once, then again.  “Move your ass.”

Chloe ignored him, still wheezing from the blow to her stomach.  Wayne lifted her up, moving her until she could feel his cock pressed against the virgin territory of her ass.  “N-no, God, please, no.”

“Then move,” he growled.

He pushed back inside of her, ignoring her cry of pain.  With a swat on her ass, he forced her to move against him, feeling his cock rub against the rawness of her dry sex.  He pushed the driver’s seat back, reclining and watching as she kept moving even as tears spilled out of her pretty blue eyes and her teeth gnawed on her lower lip until it bled.

“That’s it, baby,” he said, reaching out to play with her bobbing breasts.  Just as he touched her, a loud thud sounded from the back of the car, as if someone had slammed something heavy on the trunk.  The entire vehicle jerked.  Wayne reached out and pushed her off of him.  “You stay there,” he growled, pointing at the passenger side.

Chloe forced herself into a small ball, reaching up to pull her shirt down over her abused breasts. 

“Did I tell you to get dressed?” He stopped fastening his pants to stare at her threateningly just as another thud hit the back of his car.  “God dammit!  I’m going to fucking kill the punk messing with my car.  You stay there, girlie.”  He reached out and hit the lock switch that would unlock his car door, opening it and stepping out with a huff as he pulled his weight out of the low slung car.

Before he could even turn to look at the damage, something grabbed him around the throat, dragging him away as a shrill scream left his mouth.

Chloe backed even further in her seat, staring at the open car door.  She trembled as the cold air took away the warmth of the car, blowing over her naked skin.  When a shadowy figure stepped into the light from the car interior, she tried to press backward further.

“Do you want to stay there?”

Chloe ducked her head, not wanting to look at the man.  He was tall, his shoulders wide as he bent, his form filling in the driver’s side door. 

“He can’t hurt you again,” the man said gently.  He held out his hand to her.  “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Chloe sobbed as she made her decision, reaching out cautiously and taking his hand, letting him pull her out of the car.  She stood shivering, half naked, her jacket barely reaching the top of her thighs.  When a long, thick coat was wrapped around her shoulders, she finally got the nerve to look up at him.  “H-he r-raped me,” she said, sobbing and shivering.

* * * *

Dane stared down at the abused brunette, feeling a sense of responsibility and a tenderness he didn’t understand.  “He can’t hurt you again,” he repeated.  “He won’t be hurting anyone again.”

“R-really?” she sobbed, reaching out for him.  She fisted a handful of his flannel shirt, holding onto him like he was her only lifeline.

“Yes.  Are you hurt?  Do you need medical attention?”

“H-he h-hit me.”  Her other hand rose to her face, and she flinched as she felt the knot on her jaw and how her face was swollen.

“Anywhere besides your face?”

She pulled his jacket aside, touching her side where Wayne had slammed his fist into her.  It was tender, and she flinched away from her own touch.  “Here.”

“Come on; let me take you somewhere you can get looked at.”  He held out his hand again.

“H-how do I know you won’t do w-what he did?” she asked, backing away.

“My name is Dane Alistair.  I live in Sanctuary.”  He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.  Flipping it open, he showed her a silver badge.  “I’m the Chief of Police.”

He hadn’t expected his admission to knock her off of her feet, but Dane was quick to reach out and grab her, lifting her into his arms.  “Whoa,” he said softly, feeling her unfettered breasts pushing against his chest.  “We need to get you to that clinic.”

“Y-yes,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder.  “M-my bag is still in the car.”

“I’ll have one of my men bring it in for you.”  He looked over his shoulder and nodded.  Then he felt the girl lift her head, and he quickly started walking down the dirt road.  With his night vision, it was very close to how she would see during daylight hours.  He managed to carry her all the way to his police cruiser without tripping on any of the hidden rocks or branches along the way.

Opening the passenger door, he settled her inside.  Her eyes went to his face, and he felt her scrutiny.  Dane couldn’t help but wonder if she liked what she saw.  “What’s your name?” he asked, realizing he’d never asked.

“Chloe, Chloe Sinclair,” she whispered, licking her dry lips.

“Well, Chloe, Chloe Sinclair, you’ve got to let me loose if we’re ever going to get to that clinic.”  He watched as she realized she still had her arms wrapped around his neck, her hands tangling in the flannel of his shirt, her face flushing bright red in embarrassment. 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, horrified.

“Don’t be. I didn’t mind a bit.”  He stood, watching as she covered her face with her hands before he closed the passenger door and skipped lightly around the car to the driver’s side.  When he was settled in, he reached across her, feeling her flinch away from him.  “I’m just fastening your seatbelt, Chloe.  I’m not going to hurt you.”

She nodded, letting her head fall back against the seat.  Dane carefully reached across her again, pulling the seatbelt over her and fastening it.  Then he did his own, putting the car in reverse and backing around carefully until he could pull down the thin dirt road.  By the time he reached the main drag, Chloe was asleep.

The memories of what he’d seen in that car wouldn’t stop circulating through his head.  He’d wanted to kill that fat asshole who’d brutalized this tiny scrap of humanity seated next to him.  How could any man abuse a woman in such a manner? He just couldn’t understand it.   He glanced over at the bloodstained, bruised slip of a girl and wondered at her story.

She had the prettiest eyes, he thought, remembering how they’d looked when she’d stared at him.  Bright blue like a summer sky, they were surrounded by thick lashes that had swept her cheeks when she’d been embarrassed.  Her face was swollen and already bruising.  He wondered what she’d look like when those bruises faded.  “Maybe you’ll stick around so I can see?” he whispered aloud.

Shaking away those thoughts, he picked up the microphone in the cruiser and turned down the sound a bit so he wouldn’t wake her.  “Gemma?”

“This is Gemma, Chief,” came the quick reply.

“I need you to alert the doc.  I’m bringing him a girl who’s been pretty beaten up.”

“You got it, Chief.  Anyone we know?”

“No, I’m thinking she’s a hitchhiker who ran afoul of the wrong person.”

“I hope you took care of that ‘wrong person,’” Gemma said.

“The boys are doing it right now.”

“Good.  Out.”

He hung the mic back up and saw the first streetlights of town outside his window.  This was his town and he was proud of it, it and the people who made it what it was.  There were few out now, but those who were waved and he waved back.  He knew most of them.  He’d been chief for a long time now, and he enjoyed his job and the interaction that was necessary to do it right.

He pulled down Main Street, waving at Max, the heavyset butcher who was just opening his shop, before pulling up in front of the Sanctuary Critical Care building.  Doctor Edward Ransom was waiting outside for him.  The doc was a tall, stocky man who moved with a grace that belied his size.

He put the car in park and got out, carefully closing his door so that it wouldn’t startle Chloe.

“Whacha got for me, Chief?” Doc asked, his eyes going to the sleeping girl in the front seat of the police cruiser.

“She’s a rape victim, Doc.  He roughed her up some, but we got him before he could finish up.  She’s got bumps and bruises and there’s blood on her thighs.”

The doctor’s dark brown eyes shone with sympathy in the light of the streetlamps.  “Let’s get her inside and I’ll do the exam, unless you think maybe Charlene should do it,” he said, thinking of his wife who was also his nurse.

“I don’t know, Doc.  She’s kind of skittish.”  He went to the door, opening it slowly and reaching across to undo her seatbelt.  “Chloe,” he said softly.

Chloe was used to waking up in strange places, but she wasn’t used to waking up in pain.  She ached everywhere, including a throbbing between her thighs that was definitely unpleasant.  “W-what?” she asked, looking around blankly.  Then she remembered, and her eyes filled with tears that slowly dripped down her face.  “I hurt.”

“I know,” Dane said, brushing away the tears with his knuckles.  “Doc Ransom here is going to fix you up good, and then we’ll decide what we’re going to do with you after that.  Okay?”

Chloe glanced around Dane’s wide shoulders towards the other man, and her hand came out and fisted Dane’s shirt. 

“He’s okay, Chloe. He’s a doctor and he just wants to make you feel better, okay?”

“W-will…will you stay with me?”

Dane looked back at the other man, who shrugged his shoulders in an “it’s up to you” answer.  “Yes, I’ll stay.  Now, can you wrap your arms around my neck again?”

Chloe did as he asked, and Dane lifted her with ease, making sure that his coat covered her legs as much as possible.  He walked toward the doors of the clinic with her, letting Doc Ransom open them for him.

“We’ll take her into exam room three,” he said, nodding at the woman who sat behind a reception desk, with a partition wall holding a glass window.  His wife, Charlene, rose and headed over to open the door for them, letting them through.

“Poor thing,” she said to her husband as he followed Dane and Chloe through the door.

“Yeah, you can say that again.  Bastard worked her over with his fists before raping her.”  He brushed a kiss against his wife’s pale cheek.  “I might need some help with her.”

Charlene stared up at her husband of many years.  “You’ll have it if you need it.”  She smiled up at him and then went back to the exam room to prepare the girl for her exam.

* * * *

In the light of the exam room, Chloe’s bruises looked even worse.  One eye was swollen shut, and there was a bit of blood coming from her ear and her nose.  Charlene helped her out of her coat and clothes while Dane kept his back turned.  When she was lying on the gurney, a sheet over her, dressed in a paper gown, he turned and went to her side. 

Chloe reached for his hand and he gave it to her, twining his fingers with hers.  

“I’ll let the doctor know you’re ready.”  Charlene smiled down at Chloe before glancing up at Dane, her eyes filled with pity for the poor girl.  Then she left the room.

“T-thank you.”

Dane glanced down at the girl.  “You don’t have to thank me, Chloe.  I’m just doing my job.”

“Do you always hold the hand of rape victims?”

“Well, no.  We don’t get much of that here in Sanctuary.  The man you ran afoul of has been raping and killing hitchhikers out this way for years.  He won’t be doing it again.”  Dane’s voice was harsh.  “I’m just sorry that you had to be hurt for us to finally stop him.”

“Me too.”  Chloe closed her eyes, her strength gone.  She just wanted to sleep for about a week and wake up when her injuries were healed.  As if he understood, Dane stood quietly next to her.  She was almost asleep when the door opened, startling a cry from her.

“It’s okay.  It’s just me,” the doctor said.  “We really haven’t had a chance to be introduced.  My name is Edward Ransom.”  He smiled down at her.  “My wife tells me your name is Chloe.  It’s a very pretty name.”

“Thank you,” she all but whispered.  When the doctor went to touch her face, she flinched away from his hand.

“Chloe, it’s okay.  He just wants to make sure you’re not worse than you look.”  Dane stroked her long black hair away from her face.  “I’ve known Doc Ransom for a lot of years, honey.  He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“I’m sorry,” Chloe said, her voice husky.  “I didn’t mean to pull away.”

“That’s okay.”  He reached out and took her other hand, squeezing it gently.  “How about we try this again, and I’ll tell you everything I’m going to do before I do it.”

Chloe nodded her head, then moaned as her injuries protested the movement.

“I’m going to check out your eyes now, Chloe.  I want to make sure that there’s nothing broken.  It might sting a bit.”

Chloe closed her eyes as he moved closer.  She couldn’t help but flinch a bit as he gently pressed his fingers against her injuries.  She could hear Dane, feel his breath against her face as he bent close, talking quietly to her.

What he said, she didn’t remember.  All she knew was he stayed beside her during the entire examination, never letting go of her hand, reminding her to breathe when something the doctor did started to send her into a panic.  Before she really had time to dread what was happening, it was over.

“You can sit up now, if you want.”

Chloe did, letting Dane help her up.  She drew the sheet up and over her shoulders.

“I’m going to give you something that will treat any chance of pregnancy or STDs, and I’m also going to give you something for pain.  I want you to see your own doctor within a week.”

“I don’t have a doctor.”

“Then come back and see me, Chloe,” Doc said with a small smile.  “Go get some sleep.  I’ll have Charlene make you an appointment for a week from now.”

Chloe nodded, jumping when there was a knock on the door.  Charlene popped her head in, handing Dane Chloe’s duffle bag.  “You need any help, doll?” Charlene asked.

“N-no, I can do it.”  Chloe reached eagerly for her duffle, pulling out clean clothes as well as her wallet.  Before getting dressed, she opened her wallet, checking her money before setting it back down. 

“Will you be okay here for a few minutes?  I need to speak to the doctor.”

Chloe nodded, staring up at the good-looking chief of police.  He was handsome, tall and muscular, making her feel tiny and protected with just one look of his unusual eyes.  They weren’t blue, nor were they green, but seemed a mix of both.  Wide set under arching black brows with thick lashes surrounding them, Chloe couldn’t help but notice their beauty.  If it weren’t for the masculine plains and angles of the rest of his face, he might have been thought pretty.  But his nose was a trifle big, a bump on the bridge showing where it’d been broken once upon a time.

“I’ll be right back.”  He turned and glanced at her once more before leaving the exam room.  Doc Ransom was standing outside the door as if he’d been waiting for Dane.

“Come on, let’s do this in my office.”  The doctor led the way down another small hallway and then through a door he opened with a key from a large keychain he carried in his doctor’s coat.  The room was small with little fitting in besides the desk and the medical books that lined every wall, a few sitting on the desk and the chair across from it.

Doc Ransom picked up the books from the chair and then nodded for Dane to take a seat.  “She’s human, you do know that, don’t you?”

Dane nodded, not surprised by the doctor’s statement.  “I’d figured as much.  She’s a hitchhiker, Doc.  What else would she be but human?”

“Well, we do get others wandering through here from time to time.  I just wanted to be sure you knew.  I saw the look in your eyes while I was examining her.”

“What look?” Dane demanded.  “She’s been through hell, and I was just showing her a kindness.  Would you rather I treated her like a prisoner?”

“Dane, boy, I’ve known you since you were barely knee high to a grasshopper.  I don’t want to see you hurt.  I promised your parents I’d watch out for you when they were on their deathbeds.  That’s a promise I gotta take seriously.  You feel some attraction for her, don’t deny it.”

Dane sighed heavily, staring down at his hands for a minute before meeting the doctor’s eyes.  “Yeah, she’s pretty, or I’m thinking she will be when the swelling on her face goes down.  She’s strong too, so yeah, I feel some attraction.  But I’m not ready to settle down with a mate yet.”

“Okay then.” Doc Ransom brushed a stray lock of hair out of his face.  “She’s underweight by about ten pounds.  That could be from being on the road though.  She’s got vaginal bruising and tearing.  You were right, he wasn’t easy on her.  She’s got a cracked rib and the bruising and swelling on her face, but nothing’s broken.  I would keep her here, but after that bar brawl you broke up earlier and all the patients you sent me then, I don’t have room for her.  I can call Millie if you want, see if she might have an empty room and could keep an eye on her for a day or so…”

“No, that’s okay.  I’ve got an empty room.  She can stay there for the next few days until she’s ready to get back on the road.”

Doc Ransom nodded, though Dane could see that he didn’t approve by the twist of his lips.  “It’s just until she’s healed, Doc.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” Doc said.  “You’d better go let her know.”

Dane nodded, rising and reaching out to shake the doctor’s hand.  “Thanks for looking out for me, Doc.”

Doc Ransom shook his head, but his lips twisted into a smile.  “Can’t do nothing but, not for my best friend’s son.”

Dane nodded and then left the room, hurrying back to the exam room he’d left Chloe in.  He knocked before turning the handle and opening the door, frowning when he saw the room was empty.  “Chloe?” he called, wondering if she’d gotten scared and had hidden at his knock.  But there was no answer.  Her duffle bag was missing as well.

Dane hurried toward the waiting room.  Maybe she’d just gone out there to wait for him.  He burst through the door, startling Charlene and the few patients waiting to see Doc Ransom.  But Chloe wasn’t there either.

“Where is she?” he asked Charlene as soon as she opened the glass window that let her talk to patients.

“She left,” Charlene said, a look of confusion on her face.  “She paid her bill and left, told me to tell you thank you.”

“You let her leave?  Do you know which way she went?”

“Out the doors, Dane.  I’m sorry, I didn’t know you didn’t want her to leave.”

Dane forced his anger down, swallowing the harsh words that wanted to burst forth.  He knew he’d regret it if he said them.  “It’s okay, Charlene.  I’m sorry I snapped.” 

“Not a problem.  She didn’t leave that long ago.  If you hurry, you probably can catch up with her.”

Dane nodded, heading toward the door.  He went out the first set and then down the few steps that led to the outside doors.  Sliding to a stop on the sidewalk, he felt the first mists of the cold October rain falling on his face.

He lifted his face into it, breathing deeply and closing his eyes.  Her aroma was light, but it was the scent of her fear that burned in his nose.  He turned, opening his eyes, and saw her moving slowly about two blocks down.

He could have run after her but he thought better, feeling the rain beginning to pick up. It was beginning to freeze.  In her weakened state, she could catch her death.

“Dammit.”  He growled and ran to his car, clicking the locks quickly.  He had it started and sliding on the icy road within seconds.  With a deft hand, he managed to curb the slide and pull up beside her.  Getting out of the car, he called her name.

“Chloe, where do you think you’re going?”

She turned to stare at him, her jacket already wet, her hair damp and her nose bright red.  “I-I have to find somewhere to stay tonight.”

Dane sighed.  “We have that taken care of, honey.  I have an extra room.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You aren’t a burden.  Now get in the car before you become an icicle.”  He went around the car, slipping a bit in the ice, and took her duffle bag away from her, slinging it in the backseat before holding the passenger door open.  “Come on, I promise, you aren’t a burden.”

Chloe walked stiffly to the car, the jeans rubbing against places that hurt terribly.  “Tonight,” she told him, staring up into his unusual eyes.

“For starters.  We’ll see what we can figure out tomorrow.  Besides, if this keeps up, I’ll be out all night dealing with crumpled bumpers and people unable to get to work.”

She nodded and sank into the heat of his car with a sigh of relief.