Revolting

Hannah groaned and opened her eyes slowly. She felt heavy, disoriented, and unnaturally warm. She blinked until her blurry eyes adjusted to the dim, predawn light. A fire was slowly dying; just a few glowing embers remained in the pile of ashes. Several unfamiliar wolves were curled up in tight balls of fur. Two men in their human form were snoring in tandem under one shared blanket.

Her immediate reaction was to shift and run, but she faced two immediate problems: First, her wolf seemed to be unable to take form, and second, there was a huge, heavy arm draped over her waist, pinning her slight body to the earth. That source of heat was definitely a man's body, pressed flush against her back. He smelled sweet and delicious, and vaguely familiar. The scent of ginger and honey tickled her memory, and her nose practically quivered as she breathed it in. What was that? It was equally attractive and somehow repulsive at the same time.

She tried to move her hands, fully intent to throw off that massive arm. However, as soon as she moved, she met resistance. Her wrists were tied firmly together and anchored to her feet. She made a low growl deep in her chest and twisted her body, craning her neck to get a good look at her human captor.

He had a big, square jaw covered by a thick, dark stubble. His lips, parted slightly in sleep, were soft-looking and full. His nose was long and straight, perfectly proportioned to his other facial features. Her eyes traced over his high cheekbones, to the thick black brows that slashed over his closed eyes, and the long lashes that rested against his cheeks.

I know him, she thought sluggishly, her brain struggling for coherency. She felt that weird push-pull in her stomach, like part of her wanted to run from him, and part of her wanted to jump on him and taste those sensual lips. It was too confusing, too dangerous! She began to squirm in earnest, intent on shimmying out from under that log of an arm and finding her escape.

As soon as she started to move, that arm tightened around her like a steel band, and those eyelashes lifted as though he'd been fully awake the whole time she'd been staring at him. His eyes were the most stunning hazel color, green toward the center, brown toward the edges, with golden flecks throughout like a kaleidoscope. She felt herself falling, being pulled into those eyes, an actual falling sensation in her body until she landed back in reality with a jerk. Michael Bishop.

The name was in her consciousness, though she didn't know why. She was certain of only one thing: This sweet smelling man with the gorgeous long-lashed eyes was the enemy.

"Good morning, beautiful." He had a deep, resonant voice that still scratched at her memory, but didn't quite break the surface. His lips were stretched in a smile, and that seemed suspicious to her. When a wolf shows his teeth, it's a sign of aggression. She responded with a snarl.

The man chuckled and moved a lock of hair out of her face. She flinched away from his touch, but he still grazed his knuckles down the side of her face. She had the urge to turn her face into his touch, like a kitten begging for more. She didn't like that compulsion. "You are still so feisty," he said quietly. She proved just how feisty she was by trying to bite those fingers.

He sighed and finally moved away from her. She should have been glad, but she felt strangely lonely when the cold morning air hit her exposed body. She sat up and tried again to shift into her wolf. But it was like trying to start a car with a dead battery. Nothing happened. She narrowed her eyes and glared at the big man. He had done something to her. She didn't know what it was, but she was sure that he was the reason she couldn't retreat back into the safety and security of her wolf.

"I have to pee," he said, standing and stretching. "I imagine you do, too." His words were only half registering in her mind. She heard the sounds, but the meaning was skittering away from her like a shy bird. It was annoying, irritating, and it was making her head hurt. He hauled her to her feet, which were also bound together. And then he picked her up like she was as insignificant as a pup, and marched her to the bushes some distance outside the camp. He set her down with a grunt.

"Okay," he scratched the back of his neck. "This is... awkward. But girls need to squat I guess, so..." He squatted down himself, balancing on the balls of his feet as he began to untie the rags that bound her ankles. "I'm going to untie you so you can relieve yourself, but don't run."

She held perfectly still. She wasn't even breathing. He finished releasing her bonds and stuffed the rags into his pocket. He took a step back. "I'm going to be right over here. Don't run."

She watched him step over to the nearest tree. He glanced back to make sure she was still in place, before he lowered the waist band of his pants and proceeded to mark his territory. Disgusting male. As soon as she heard the stream of urine hit the tree trunk, she ran.