The Crystal Warrior

The Crystal Warrior (Chapter 2)

THE CRYSTAL WARRIOR

By Maree Anderson

CHAPTER TWO

Whoa. Chalcey mentally fanned herself so she didn't do something stupid. Like hyperventilate, and get all dizzy and fall on her ass. He'd been poured into those scarred leather pants. And as for the chest-hugging leather vest and shit-kicker boots.... Lord have mercy. He looked like a warrior king of old. He could have stepped right out of one of her private nighttime fantasies.

He turned his back on her and stalked toward Ray. The stiffness of his spine, and the rhythmic clenching and unclenching of his fists, screamed deadly intent and purpose.

Oh no. This could get out of hand real quick. She wasn't the sort who'd stand helplessly by, wringing her hands in dismay, while a guy got pulped—not even if he did deserve it.

"Hey!" She darted forward and clutched her rescuer's arm, hauling him around to face her.

His gaze latched onto hers again, ensnaring her. She couldn't look away. Her heart raced, its beat echoing manically in her ears. Her bare skin prickled as though he'd run cool, caressing fingers down her flesh. She flushed with heat as parts lower down clenched and throbbed with lust. Her body responded to him, cried out for him, even though she'd never met him before in her life.

"Who—?" Her question died when he grabbed her and planted a kiss on her lips that stole her breath.

He speared his fingers through her hair to cup the back of her skull with one big hand. He held her immobile and lowered his mouth to hers again. This time his kiss was hungry, demanding, brutally intense. She was so stunned that she didn't even try to struggle. He took her mouth as though he would brand her as his own. And she would have let him mark her. Hell, she would stoop to begging!

When her legs wobbled, he clasped her so tightly against his body that she was forced up on tiptoes. She stared into his eyes. So intensely blue... like the sky viewed from a mountaintop on a crystal-clear day.

His mouth hardened on hers, forcing her lips apart so that he could thrust his tongue inside her mouth. Still she didn't protest. Her head spun. Her eyelids drifted shut. She became a creature of pure sensation. There was only him and her. His lips on hers, her body pressed against his. Her yearning for him to fill a gaping hole in her soul that she'd not realized existed before now. His needs and wants and desires, all of them focused upon her, all of them centered around her. The rest of the world dissolved beneath his sensual assault. Nothing else mattered. Nothing but him.

"Hey!" somebody—Ray—shouted. "Who the fuck d'ya think you are?"

Chalcey blinked. The hulking great hunky stranger, the one who had dealt to the sleaze-bag mauling her, was now... well... mauling her. Did she have "Grope Me" tattooed on her forehead, or something? What was with this guy? He was just as bad as Ray.

So she did what any self-respecting girl who's had enough of men would do—even if the man was an incredibly hot one who kissed like there was no tomorrow. She totally overreacted. She grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked his head back. And kept on yanking until he quit kissing her and released her enough that she slid down his body. The instant that she had her balance, she drew back her arm and punched him in the face. Hard. Putting all her strength and the power of her body behind it.

He grunted and backed off.

"I don't know you from a bar of soap. Where the hell do you get off thinking you can manhandle me?" She flexed her fingers, shaking out the pain as she squinted at him, trying to spot where she'd hit him. She'd been aiming for his nose but he'd angled his head at the last second and she'd missed her target. The cheek, perhaps? A reddened patch of skin was the only evidence.