"Mary Janice Davidson - Wyndham Werewolves 01 - Love's Prisoner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Davidson Mary Janice)

"Don't flatter yourself," she mumbled, cautiously getting to her knees on top of the elevator. She heard
him chuckle beneath her and then abruptly, shockingly, he was crouching beside her on the roof. Off the
floor and through the trap door in one bound, apparently. It was almost enough to make her wonder . . .

But that was ridiculous. This was the 21st century, and there were no such things as werewolves,
dammit!

"Why have we left the relative safety of the elevator, to teeter out here on top of the elevator, you
nutcake?" she asked with saccharine sweetness.

"I'm definitely planning on falling in love with you," he said casually, in a tone he might have used to ask
her to close the window. "Any woman in mortal danger who can tease her assailant after being terrified is
definitely worth taking to mate. Just so you know."

"Save it for your parole hearing, pal," she said. Before she could elaborate on what the judicial system
would do to him with her blessing, she heard their death warrant: the elevator cables groaning from
stress. She belatedly realized she was in danger of more than forced sex this evening. "Oh, God," she
said, abruptly terrified. Had she thought she was scared when Tall, Dark, and Horny had taken her
against her will? She hadn't known what scared was. "Oh, God—what should we do?"

"Live," he said simply and, absurdly, she took comfort in that. She had to, because never was the dark
more terrifying. She could hear his rapid movements, hear twangs as parts of the cable give way under
the stress, hear the elevator doors two feet above her creaking as they were forced open.

"Be careful!" she said sharply.

"Always," he said, and suddenly his hands were on her again, and she felt herself effortlessly boosted
and shoved. She reached out and clutched wildly, and felt the carpet in front of her. The building was as
dark as the elevator had been, but she could tell he had held her up, almost over his head (no one is that
strong) and boosted her through the elevator doors. In the pure dark, she could sense no one else
around, which was just as well, given the shredded ruin of her clothes. Now his hands were on her heels,
and he shoved, hard. She zipped across the carpet as if it was wet tile, her entire front going warm from
the friction (he's not crazy, he really is a werewolf).

She turned around and crawled back toward the open doors, groping for the drop-off. "Come out!" she
cried in the dark, hearing the sharp twang of more cable parting. "Jump out! Quick! You can do it,
weirdo!"

"Stay back from the doors!" he said sharply. "You can't see a thing, you'll fall right back down here.
Stay—"

She would obsess about that for weeks, that his last words were warnings to her. Because at that
moment, the main cable parted and the elevator car plummeted five floors into the basement.

Her rapist had become her savior. And paid the price with his life. She shouldn't have cared. She should
have been relieved. And she was relieved. So relieved that she put her face down on the dusty carpet
and sobbed as if her heart would break.