Dark Ghost Read Online Free PDF Page B

it again until her dancing light spotlighted it for him.
    Her scent enveloped him. This time he recognized the interesting mixture of wildflowers and rain. He inhaled her. The moment he did, she cried out and dropped to the ground beside him.
    “You’re alive. Oh. My. God. You’re totally alive.”
    Her hands ran over his chest. Her touch was featherlight, but everywhere the pads of her fingers touched he felt heat and something else, something that penetrated deep, right through his skin. He recognized the touch of a natural healer. She had immense power. He stayed very still, listening to the musical cadence of her voice. The sound of her struck an answering chord in him.
    He realized she spoke English. Not just any English, but American English. She wasn’t from the Carpathian Mountains. She didn’t feel Carpathian. But she belonged to him. Absolutely belonged to him. He turned his head and locked his eyes on his prey. Seeing the swelling in her face hurt him. An actual pain. He couldn’t leave her like that. He refused.
    She was an amazing healer and should have seen to herself before recklessly running into a cave. What was wrong with her that she didn’t see the danger to herself even now? Because she was in danger. Didn’t she feel it? He was starving. He’d lost too much blood, and there she was, bending over him, her throat exposed, her pulse pounding, her heart calling to his. He could hear the ebb and flow of her blood. Smell it even, through the wound on her mouth. The tear.
    Someone had hurt his lifemate very recently. A male. He could smell the testosterone on her. Her shirt was torn, exposing the curve of her breast. She was tiny, but he could see the small, beautiful curve and he ached. The ache wasn’t enough to hold the beast at bay. Someone had attempted to harm her.
    He lifted his hand to her face, his thumb sliding gently over the bruised swelling. “Who did this to you?” His English was good, but he had an English accent. He was unfamiliar with the American accent. His first words to his lifemate. He spoke softly, his voice pitched low, but there was a distinct growl, a note that made her entire body go still.
    She pressed her lips together and then winced. “Let’s concentrate on you. Your wounds are horrific. I’m Teagan. Teagan Joanes.”
    “I do not want to invade your privacy by taking this information from you, but I refuse to argue. Give me his name.”
    Her long lashes swept down and then back up. She sank back on her heels, wincing as she did so, as if that movement hurt as well. He saw trepidation in her dark eyes, the beginnings of fear. He knew what she saw. He’d been alarming humans for centuries – and she was definitely human. He’d alarmed his own species. He wasn’t a man to trifle with. But his first obligation was to the safety and health of his lifemate, not the other way around. Fear or not, he
would
get his answer.
    “Armend Jashari,” she replied, her voice a whisper. “He’s somewhere behind me. He told me he had friends camping nearby and they were going…” She trailed off.
    He scowled at her and decided to take the information from her. He wasn’t the coaxing kind. This was too important. He needed to know what this man had done and what he intended to do. He needed to heal his woman and decide a course of action. Her dithering wasn’t helping the situation at all.
    “Look at me,” he commanded, keeping his voice low. He deliberately didn’t move from his resting place, allowing her to keep a false sense of security.
    Her gaze jumped to his. He didn’t allow her to look away. The moment her dark eyes met his, he ensnared her, whispering his command to her, so that she would accept his dark embrace. He sat up, pulling her into his arms, his mind reaching for hers, pushing past barriers, seeking information.
    He found himself snarling. Lethal. Furious. His lifemate had been in jeopardy, nearly raped. She’d been beaten. Some man she trusted, the