"Wolf Warrior - 01 - The Lost Wolf Warrior" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monet Rae)

"She doesn't want us to interfere. Stay as you are."

She methodically danced around the two men, confusing them. They shifted to stand back to back.

Abruptly she stopped, and five feet away from them, she lowered herself to one knee and crossed both swords in front of her. Ian strained against his arm. Roan recognized Ian's need to help her was as strong as his, but he continued to hold Ian back. He heard another command.

Do not move.

Roan raised his hand to his head. Her silent orders were obviously causing this pain. Despite the pounding in his head, he kept watching the battle. He wished he could help her, but he respected her orders. He had been in endless battles, and sometimes it was more deadly to help than to stay back.

The two soldiers seemed befuddled when she closed her eyes, dropped her chin and remained fixed where she was. She appeared serene, ready for a death strike.

"I give you a chance to flee.” She said softly, “the alternative is certain death."

It was a merciful move, Roan thought, as he heard her offer ... giving the two soldiers the choice not to charge her. If they walked away she would spare their lives.

The soldiers turned and looked at each other. Making their decision, they shouted as they advanced, their swords drawn with deadly purpose. Roan held Ian back when he tried to move forward again and they both watched in awe as the woman ducked and absorbed the blow of the first man's sword with the sword in her left hand. Then, still on one knee, she raised her right-handed sword and fatally struck the other charging soldier. While he was going down, she stood, kicked out with her foot directly into the chest of the remaining soldier as her left sword locked with his. He stumbled back, and while he was off balance, her other sword came up, giving him an instant deathblow. Death had come swiftly to all of them; none had suffered. She was true with her aim and somehow, as the battle ended, he sensed she felt regret at having to kill them.

Now that the fight was over, the woman quickly moved back to her bow, efficiently reloaded it with the quills from a quiver on her side. She whipped her head back and forth, looking around as if she expected more men to emerge from the quiet forest. She looked like a targeted deer, waiting for the hunter's arrow. Purposefully stepping over, she pulled her daggers from the hearts of the dead soldiers. Wiping them, she re-sheathed them in her worn leather boots.

She circled around, making her way closer to them. Her concentration intense, her head cocked, she growled in observable frustration, as if she couldn't find what she was searching for. She strayed within a sword distance of them, her scent making its way to Roan, sweet like Scottish heather, with a slight spicy fragrance. His eyes followed her well-formed, leather encased body as she moved toward him, her chest heaving, her exposed breasts straining against the top of her vest.

Suddenly, Roan felt such strong blinding emotions that he caught his breath. Desire, possessiveness, and lust flared within him like an unwanted English rainstorm on a sunlit day. He could picture his naked body poised over hers, burying his penis into her, plunging over and over again. The cries of her orgasm would surround them.

* * * *

Serena's concentration at predicting the impending threats in the vicinity was abruptly severed when powerful sensations washed over her like a strong ocean current. Emotions, stronger than any of her senses, assaulted her with a stirring of desire and longing. She saw a flash in her mind, a sensual coupling...

She wasn't prepared for the vision, and her head swung around, her eyes connecting with the dark-haired man's blue gaze. Her breath caught when she looked deeply into his eyes. They were dark with sexual arousal.

What was happening?

Immediately, she was distrustful. The dark haired man had not identified himself, nor had he spoken to her with his mind sense. Serena began to wonder if perhaps she had been wrong in helping these men, perhaps just this once her senses had been mistaken.

Her warrior instinct told her that these men were now included in the threats around her.

* * * *

Roan watched as the woman's eyes made contact with his and he was struck by the perception he saw there, almost as if she could read his sexual thoughts. He sensed her feelings of discontent—most certainly directed at him.

All of a sudden, she launched herself at him and he heard a familiar noise. It was the smooth well-known whoosh of an arrow letting loose, sailing through the trees and striking upon its target.

Roan grunted when she struck him hard, pushing him aside as she stepped in front of him. He was so startled by the woman's rapid movement that he stumbled backward. She cried out as the arrow pierced her shoulder, the same arrow that would have struck him, without a doubt, in the heart. Despite her injury, she swiftly swung around and set off running toward her horse. She pointed her bow, targeted the forest, and let go of one shot. A cry was heard from the trees.

She had hit her target.

Struggling with the arrow in her shoulder, she hastily re-loaded her bow, and carrying it up, aimed it point blank—toward them.

Roan was rattled at her distrustful move, first she assisted them, and now she appeared ready to dispose of them.