THE INSTANT CHLOE MANAGED to crack open her gritty eyelids, she was met with the stunning sight of Kellan Scott standing
outside the iron bars that covered the front of her cell.
And while there was a part of her that was amazed she hadn’t immediately screamed from shock, the other parts were still too busy
taking in his deliciously dark, dangerous good looks.
Even with the fresh bruises healing on his face and upper body, as well as an evil-looking bite wound at the side of his throat, Chloe
figured he had to be the best-looking male she’d ever set eyes on. She stared from her place on the cell’s spindly cot, her body
shivering beneath a thin blanket, while he stared back from the other side of the bars, one wide shoulder propped against the heavy gray
rods of metal. He wore nothing but a low-slung, bloodstained pair of jeans, his long feet and broad, kinda sweaty chest completely bare.
With his thumbs casually hooked in his front pockets, she had the feeling he was trying to appear as nonthreatening as possible, and it
almost made her smile.
Nice try, Lycan. But it isn’t working.
No, this was definitely no lamb. Chloe could all but feel the raw force of his masculinity blasting against her, and knew his wicked
reputation—the one Raine had told her about when the psychic had “seen” him traveling across the Wasteland as he’d made his way to
the compound—had been well deserved. The guy all but oozed an “I’m a drop-dead gorgeous badass” vibe with those rugged features,
shadowed jaw and what was truly a mouthwatering bod. At least a couple of inches over six foot, he was ripped with hard, corded
muscles that were perfectly formed beneath the dark sheen of his skin, the raised veins and long lines of sinew adding to what was an
already-stunning physique.
He was more than a little dangerous looking, but he was also sexy as hell.
And the thick-lashed, blue-green eyes… God, they were just overkill.
The drugs they’d given her still had her brain kinda fuzzy, but Chloe lifted up onto an elbow and struggled to form the words she
wanted. “How…” She coughed, and tried again. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Just a few minutes. I kept quiet because I didn’t wanna startle you while you were waking up.” With a ghost of a smile, he added,
“It's taken you a good five minutes to get your eyes open.”
“I don’t understand,” she muttered, her forehead scrunching in confusion. “I mean, how did you get out of your cell?”
“I managed to shove the door open,” he replied, pushing a hand through the dark, silky strands of auburn hair that almost reached his
shoulders, his bicep bulging as the masculine tuft under his arm was revealed.
Chloe rubbed her eyes. “But…the counterweights on these doors are massive! Not to mention the fact that the doors are locked!”
The corner of his mouth twitched, as if he found her reaction kind of funny. “You know I’m not human, Chloe. I don’t think they ever
planned to hold a Lycan when they built these cells. Either that, or they have no idea how strong we are.” His head tilted a little to the
side, his gaze focused on her with an unnerving intensity. “The hardest part was picking the lock.” He shrugged, adding, “After that, I
just gripped the edge of the door and pulled.”
“You pulled.” Her voice sounded strangely flat, no doubt with shock. “You just pulled what must have been a thousand pounds of
counterweight and opened the door.”
Something wicked flickered in those thick-lashed eyes, but his tone was deceptively light as he said, “I prefer to use my head when
there’s a logical answer to a problem. But you can’t argue that there are times when some muscle comes in just as handy.”
A wry smile touched her lips. “So doing something like that is no big deal to you?”
Another shrug of those tough, massive shoulders, this one a little tense. “I’ve been traveling in wolf form to get here, so I’m running on
excess adrenaline right now.”
“Not to mention the fact that you’re…huge.” She stared at the way his powerful hands rested against the faded denim of his jeans, his
thumbs hooked in his pockets, and felt strangely consumed by hunger in a way that she never had before, as if craving were an actual
living thing coiling inside her body.
With a hard swallow, Chloe cleared the husky note from her throat and continued talking. “You know, it’s probably an odd thing to say
to a man I don’t even know, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen hands quite as big as yours.”
He didn’t say anything in response, just used one of those sun-darkened hands to rub the back of his neck, while a warm rush of color
crept across the bridge of his nose and his sharp cheekbones. Transfixed, Chloe watched the way his eyes turned kind of heavy lidded,
trying hard to remember why she’d been so determined to ignore this guy.
Must not have been thinking straight. He’s too beautiful to ignore. It musta been the drugs….
She knew she was probably being rude, but she could not stop staring at his hands, mesmerized by them. His fingers were scarred, but
beautiful in the way that only something on a guy could be. Not pretty, but long and perfectly sculpted, with short-clipped nails that’d
been bleached by the sun.
Then, with her next breath, she remembered the old saying about big hands, big feet, big…
Her gaze took a swift pass over the heavy bulge behind the fly of his jeans…and damn it, now she was blushing right along with him.
“So anyway,” he finally rumbled, no doubt saving her from making another embarrassing gaffe, “the reason I’m out here is because we
need to talk.” The words were deep and deliciously raspy, creating an immediate physical reaction in Chloe’s body. She noticed the
slightest trace of a British accent in his words, mixed with the harder American pronunciations, an underlying grittiness that no doubt
came from the fact he wasn’t any more human than she was. If she’d had to describe it, she would have said he had one of those
husky voices that sounded like a man saying wicked things in a woman’s ear while he surged deep inside her body. The kind of sex-
roughened voice that starred in all of Chloe’s favorite fantasies.
And now this man was here, in the flesh, watching her with the most mesmerizing expression on his face, looking as if he wanted to eat
her alive.
I have got to be dreaming….
Raine had told her the Lycan was coming, but Chloe hadn’t really believed her. After everything that Raine had been through—traumas
Chloe knew were going to haunt the psychic’s memories for the rest of her life—she’d worried that the woman was comforting herself
with some kind of imagined rescue. Then, two days ago, when Chloe was returned to her cell after an examination by Westmore’s
doctor, the werewolf was suddenly there, pacing behind the iron bars of his own cell, reminding her of a caged animal. He’d looked like
someone who’d just been dragged out of a war zone, but even flying high on their drugs, she’d thought he was…beautiful.
And now Mr. Beautiful had sneaked out of his cell, putting himself in close proximity to her, and oh…damn. With a low groan, Chloe
suddenly recalled why she’d been trying to ignore him the past two days. Why she’d kept refusing to respond to his questions.
More than once, the Lycan had moved to the front corner of his cell that was closest to hers and tried to talk to her, but she’d never
acknowledged him, pretending to be asleep. Of course, with all the drugs they’d been pumping into her system, she had actually spent
most of the past two days knocked out.
But she was finally awake, and he was obviously done waiting.
And this is a bad, bad idea. I’ve got a starved Merrick inside me, and any second now it’s going to wake up and see something too
good to resist.
As if he sensed her tension, he looked a little grim as he ran that dark gaze over her blanket-covered form. “They haven’t hurt you, have
they?”
“No,” she murmured, forcing her sluggish body into a sitting position. Careful to keep the blanket over her lower body, since she was
wearing nothing but a pair of panties and an oversize men’s dress shirt, she leaned against the wall and pulled her knees into her chest.
The shirt had been given to her after the last one had gotten drenched in blood during her captors’ failed attempts to “feed” her through
an IV, the panties and bra a clean set they’d obviously taken out of the luggage she’d been traveling with when they’d kidnapped her
several months ago.
He narrowed his eyes, studying her face, almost as if he was trying to determine if she was telling him the truth about her treatment…or
not. “You know why I’m here, right?”
She took a deep breath—one that filled her nostrils with his warm, masculine scent—and it didn’t help to steady her nerves. “Yeah, I
know. But maybe you should explain it to me. In your own words.”
With a sharp nod, he said, “I came to rescue you.”
From the book: TOUCH OF TEMPTATION by Rhyannon Byrd
Copyright © 2010
® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher.
The edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.
For more romance information go to: http://www.eHarlequin.com/
An Unedited Excerpt from Rhyannon Byrd’s
TOUCH OF TEMPTATION
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