Only Love o-4 Page 10
«Thank you,» Shannon said. «I tried to make a new hinge from an old horseshoe, but no matter how hard I hammered…»
She shrugged and didn’t finish the sentence.
«Have you ever seen a blacksmith’s arms?» Whip asked dryly.
«No.»
«They’re bigger than mine.»
Shannon’s eyes widened.
Whip smiled at the look on her face. He was used to his unusual height and physical power. Shannon wasn’t. At first the contrast between his strength and her own had made Shannon uneasy. Lately, though, Whip had seen appreciation rather than fear of his strength when she watched him working.
When Shannon pushed back from the table to get the biscuits, Prettyface’s eyes followed his mistress the short distance to the stove. She pulled out the pan and turned toward the table. As she turned, the sole of her boot caught on an uneven floor-board.
Shannon made a startled sound and tried to regain her balance, but it was too late. Whip’s big hands grabbed her and set her upright before she could fall.
«Are you —» began Whip.
The rest of his words were lost in a savage snarl as Prettyface came out of the corner in a lunge and went for Whip’s throat.
7
Whip pushed Shannon out of danger even as he spun to face the attacking dog. Horrified, Shannon watched Whip yank the coiled lash off his shoulder. His left arm collided with Prettyface in mid-leap.
Man and dog went down in a snarling, cursing tangle. Prettyface ended up on top. His teeth were sunk into Whip’s left hand and the coils of leather it held.
«No, Prettyface!No!»
Shouting and yanking frantically, Shannon tried to drag Prettyface off Whip. The dog ignored her.
Whip didn’t.
«Get the hell out of the way!» he ordered.
«But —»
Shannon never finished her objection. With a powerful movement of his body, Whip turned over, dragging Prettyface beneath him and sending Shannon staggering away from the fight.
She caught her balance on the old trunk full of books and looked around wildly for something to use that would subdue Prettyface. But there was nothing at hand that would free Whip before Prettyface got his feet under him again and sank his teeth into Whip’s throat.
«Prettyface! No!»
Her shouts had no effect.
Struggling, flailing, man and beast slammed into the legs of the old table. It skidded and crashed against the bed, sending blankets flying. An instant later the table careened into the front door, propelled by the thrashing bodies.
Now all Shannon could see was the corded muscles of Whip’s back and Prettyface’s hind feet raking Whip’s legs.
«Stop it!»
Even as she screamed, Shannon knew it wouldn’t do any good. Prettyface had no intention of surrendering.
Shannon’s wild glance fell on the bucket of steaming water on the stove. She reached for the bucket, but a single touch told her that the water was much too hot. It would scald Whip and yet was much too hot. It would scald Whip and yet barely penetrate Prettyface’s thick coat.
Abruptly the sounds of the struggle diminished. Shannon looked around.
Prettyface was on top. Whip wasn’t moving very much at all.
«Oh, God,» Shannon cried. «Whip!»
There was no answer.
Shannon lunged across the room and yanked away the table that was blocking the door. She dragged the shotgun from its pegs over the top of the door frame. Tears running down her face, she cocked the shotgun and turned back to shoot the dog that believed he was defending her.
But he wasn’t. He was killing Whip.
«Put that damned gun down,» Whip said grimly. «I’m not going to kill your mongrel wolf. But by God I’m going to teach him some manners.»
Shannon was too shocked at hearing Whip’s voice to tell him that Prettyface had been her target. Impatiently she wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked again, thinking tears must have blurred her view of what was happening.
She saw the same thing she had seen before. Whip was mostly on the bottom of the pile, and he wasn’t moving very much at all. Prettyface’s muzzle was still pressed against Whip’s neck.
Abruptly Shannon realized that the dog’s teeth were set in the bullwhip rather than in Whip’s throat.
Relief swept through Shannon, only to give way to dismay. Whip’s left hand was jammed into the dog’s mouth along with the bullwhip. Dismay became fear when she realized that Whip’s other hand was clamped around Prettyface’s windpipe.
Whip was slowly choking air and life out of her dog.
«You’re killing him!» Shannon cried.
«The hell I am. The son of a bitch is still kicking like a steer.»
«Let go! He’s barely moving!»
«Barely is too damn much with a beast this size.»
Whip bore down harder with his right hand. His mouth was set in a harsh, determined line.
«Whip!»
He ignored Shannon, even when she grabbed his hand and tried to drag it away from Prettyface’s throat. When she set her feet and started to pry at his thumb with both hands, he gave her a glittering, narroweyed look.
«Get out of the way before you get hurt,» Whip said through his teeth.
Shannon kept clawing at his hand.
Prettyface kicked feebly and went limp.
Abruptly Whip released the pressure on the dog’s windpipe. Slowly the animal slid off Whip’s chest onto the floor and lay without moving, as slack as a pile of wet laundry.
«You killed him!» Shannon cried. «Damn you, Whip! You killed him!»
«Hell,» Whip said in disgust. «If I’d wanted to kill him, I would have broken his neck when he jumped me.»
Wordlessly Shannon shook her head, denying Whip’s words. Sobbing quietly, she tried to go to Prettyface, only to find her way barred by Whip’s hard arm.
«He’s not dead,» Whip said roughly. «Look at his flank. He’s breathing just fine now that my fingers are off his windpipe.»
Hurriedly Shannon wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked at Prettyface. The dog’s flank was indeed rising and falling slowly, dragging air back into his lungs.
«Thank God,» she whispered.
Shannon tried to go forward again, and again found her way barred by Whip.
«Go stand by the stove,» he said.
«But I want to —»
«Right now what you want doesn’t matter a whole lot,» Whip interrupted, his voice harsh. «You had your turn at controlling this beast and you couldn’t do it. It’s my turn now.»
«But —»
Whip looked up at Shannon.
«Move,» he said softly.
Too softly.
«Don’t hurt him any more,» Shannon pleaded. But she was backing toward the stove while she spoke. Like Whip’s voice, his eyes were calm, clear, and cold as a dagger made of ice.
Prettyface whimpered and tried to raise his head. Instantly Whip was there, holding the dog’s head against the floor, making it impossible for Prettyface to regain his feet.
«Easy,» Whip said in a gentle tone. «Before you get up and start feeling feisty again, focus those damned throwback eyes on me and know who’s head wolf around here.»
Prettyface whined softly. He blinked his yellow wolf’s eyes and looked around to see what was holding him down.
The dog met Whip’s eyes, recognized him, held the man’s glance for the space of a breath…and then Prettyface looked away, silently acknowledging that Whip was the master.
Nor did the dog attempt to get up again.
«That’s it, Prettyface,» Whip said, stroking the dog’s head gently. «I knew you were a damn sight smarter than you looked. All you needed was proof that you weren’t the master.»
Prettyface whined and tentatively midged Whip’s hand.
«Hello, boy,» Whip murmured, rubbing the dog’s head, reassuring him. «We’re going to get along a lot better from now on, aren’t we?»
«Like that, do you?» Whip laughed. «You’re a hell of a fighter, Prettyface. Now you need to learn how to be a partner, too.»
When Whip’s fingers ran over every inch of Prettyface’s body, the dog stiffened, but he didn’t object in any other way to the man’s touch. Even when Whip probed between the sensitive pads on the dog’s feet, Prettyface didn’t so much as growl.
Shannon was shocked.
«All right, Prettyface,» Whip said, rubbing the dog’s ears affectionately. «I think you got the point. You take orders around here. You don’t give them.»
Whip came off the floor with a catlike grace that was startling in such a big man. The bullwhip was still in his left hand, still coiled.
«Up you go, boy,» Whip said.
Prettyface came to his feet, shook himself thoroughly, and looked at Whip.
Whip opened the cabin door.
«Go out and rustle your breakfast instead of trying to eat me,» Whip suggested dryly.
Prettyface looked once at Shannon, then trotted outside. Whip shut the door.
«You broke his spirit,» she said hoarsely.
«No, I just —»
«You’re like the Culpeppers,» Shannon interrupted wildly.
Her voice was cold. Her body shook with rage and fear and the aftermath of too much adrenaline.
«The hell I —» began Whip.
«You’re cruel and you’re brutal. You force anything weaker than you to grovel at your feet!»
Whip took one gliding step toward Shannon, then another. His eyes were like hammered silver. Blood dripped from cuts on his left hand.
He looked as dangerous as he was.
Shannon’s heartbeat doubled, but she didn’t back up one step. She couldn’t. She didn’t trust her legs to hold her.
«Prettyface,» Whip said softly, coldly, «is a spoiled, savage mongrel that weighs more than most men. He has too much wolf in him to understand anything from a man but force. So I beat him at his own game. Force. Now he’ll accept me.»
Shannon’s chin came up defiantly, but she was smart enough not to say a word. Whip was right and both of them knew it. She just didn’t like hearing it put so bluntly.
«As for the rest of your tirade,» Whip said, «when you give yourself to me — and you will — it won’t be because I choked you into submission. If that was all I wanted, I would have killed Prettyface the first time I walked into the cabin. Then I would have thrown you down on the floor and raped you.»
A small sound came from the back of Shannon’s throat as she understood the raw truth of Whip’s statement. Deep inside, she had always assumed it was Prettyface’s snarling presence that had kept Whip from touching her in any way at all.
Now Shannon knew how badly she had misread the situation. Whip was as smart and quick as he was strong.
And he was frighteningly strong.
«But that isn’t what I want from you,» Whip said, his voice lethally calm.
«Wh —» Shannon’s voice broke.
She licked her dry lips, took a quick breath, and tried again.
«What d-do you want from me?» she asked.
At first Shannon didn’t think Whip would answer. Then he took one last, gliding stride toward her. When he stopped, he was so close to Shannon that she couldn’t take a breath without her breasts touching his hard chest.
Slowly, giving Shannon every chance to flinch away, Whip lifted his hands to her face.
She didn’t move. She simply watched him with eyes that were both wary and defiant.
The bullwhip he still carried in his left hand caressed Shannon’s cheek so lightly it felt more like a breath than a touch. The supple leather coils traced her eyebrows, the straight line of her nose, her high cheekbones.
It was the last thing Shannon had expected from Whip. The touches were so gentle she barely felt them. They shouted of Whip’s restraint.
And they teased her even as they reassured her.
She closed her eyes, wanting to concentrate on the elusive, shimmering sensations that shivered through her body. She took in a quick breath and smelled the wood smoke and evergreen on Whip, as well as the primal, disturbing scent of blood.
«Whip?» Shannon whispered through trembling lips.
His wrist flicked and the leather coils vanished. A vague thump told Shannon that the bullwhip had landed on the floor.
Whip took the shotgun from her hands and uncocked it with a few swift, easy motions. When he replaced the weapon on its pegs over the door, Shannon numbly noted that there was blood on both of his hands.
Whip saw the look on her face when he turned back to her.
«It’s all right, honey girl,» he said. «You don’t need the shotgun. I won’t hurt you. I’m just trying to answer your question about what I want from you. But I don’t have any words to tell you…»
Callused fingertips lightly traced Shannon’s hairline, the rims of her ears, the dense mahogany eyelashes quivering against her cheek, the trembling line of her lips, the pulse beating frantically in her throat.
«Are you truly afraid of me?» Whip asked huskily.
Shannon shook her head. «N-no.»
«You ought to be.»
«Why?»
«I want what I first saw in your walk,» he said simply.
«I–I don’t understand.»
«Neither do I. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you, all at once, no thought, no caution, no right or wrong, nothing but a hard need riding me all day, every day. And the nights…Jesus. The nights are pure, undiluted hell.»
Shannon tried to speak. No words came out of her dry throat.
Whip’s thumbs traced her mouth, caressing it as intimately as a kiss. Her softness lured him, and her heat, and the ragged sigh she finally gave, a sigh that was also his name.
«You have a walk like honey,» Whip said huskily, bending down to her. «Kiss me, Shannon. I want to find out if your mouth is half as arousing as your walk.»
Shannon made a soft, startled sound when Whip’s teeth nibbled at her lips and his tongue probed the corners of her mouth. Tingling sensations rippled through her, shortening her breath until she felt dizzy. Her hands went up to his arms, anchoring her in a world that was dissolving beneath her feet one frantic heartbeat at a time.
«Whip?» she whispered raggedly.
«That’s it,» he said against her mouth. «Open those soft lips a little more. I have to taste you.»
«Taste me?»
«Yes. Now.»
Whip’s tongue slid into Shannon’s mouth, caressing her, tasting her with a hushed intensity that made her tremble. An answering tremor went through Whip.
Curious, Shannon looked at him. His forehead was creased and his eyes were closed. His cut, bleeding hands held her face as though she were more fragile than a butterfly’s wings. Despite the potent hunger that tightened every muscle in his body, Whip’s mouth only sipped lightly at hers.
Beneath her hands, Whip’s arms felt like steel bands. His muscles were corded and his breath was ragged. He could have taken whatever he wanted from her much more easily than he had subdued Prettyface. Shannon knew it.
And so did Whip.
Yet still he demanded nothing of her. He simply asked, coaxed, mutely pleaded to be allowed into the lush darkness behind her lips.
Shannon sighed and gave Whip what he desired. His tongue glided over hers, coaxing her to touch him in turn. The caress was tantalizing, irresistible, as warm and gentle as sunrise itself.
A small sound came from the back of Shannon’s throat as she understood Whip’s silent message. He was telling her without words how much he wanted her and how careful he would be if she gave herself to him.
The thought of such a tender sharing took the world from beneath Shannon’s feet. Her fingers dug into Whip’s arms as her knees loosened.
«Whip?»
Shannon’s muffled whisper was barely understandable. Whip was tem
pted to ignore the question in her tone, but didn’t. Despite her previous assurances, he was afraid that fear rather than passion had caused her fingers to clench around his arms.
Reluctantly Whip lifted his head and looked down into Shannon’s dazed blue eyes. When she still didn’t speak, he nuzzled the corner of her mouth with his mustache.
She smiled slightly and kissed the rough silk mustache that was caressing her. Whip eased the tip of his tongue into the corner of her smile. Then he probed between her lips several times, slowly, easing in and out of her warmth, teasing and tasting her lightly, hotly.
Shannon made another throttled sound and shivered.
«What is it?» Whip asked in a low voice. «Are you afraid of me after all?»
She shook her head. While she did, she watched Whip’s mouth, wondering how anything that looked so hard and sharply controlled could feel so soft and wild against her lips.
«I —» Shannon blinked, touched her tongue to the corner of her mouth, and whispered, «I feel dizzy.»
Whip’s smile was dark, swift, very male. Shannon’s eyes were a smoky sapphire that sent tongues of desire stabbing through him. His own eyes became a smoldering quicksilver as he watched Shannon lick her lips again.
«Dizzy,» Whip repeated huskily.
She nodded and touched the tip of her tongue uncertainly to her lips.
«Put your arms around my neck and hold on,» Whip said. «I’ll make sure you don’t fall.»
As Whip spoke, he drew Shannon’s arms around his neck. The movement brought her up on tiptoe and pulled her against his body. Her breath came in with a soft, ripping sound that acted on Whip like a shot of whiskey.
«Now we can do this properly,» Whip said.
«What?»
«Lick your lips again, honey girl. I’ll show you.»
Shannon hesitated, then did as Whip asked.
No sooner had Shannon’s tongue touched her lips than Whip bent down and caught her mouth beneath his. His tongue pressed into the moist darkness behind her teeth, caressing her even as he filled her. He felt the hesitation of her body, the quick intake of her breath, and then the trembling pressure of her tongue against his in secret caress.
Whip made a low sound and gathered Shannon even more closely along his body. His tongue began a sultry rhythm of penetration and retreat, return and withdrawal. After a few moments her arms tightened around his neck, lifting her into the kiss.