The Hunters 6: Rafe and Sheila Read online

  RAFE AND SHEILA

  An Ellora’s Cave Publication, May 2005

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.

  1337 Commerce Drive, #13

  Stow, OH 44224

  ISBN MS Reader (LIT) ISBN # 1-4199-0165-6

  Other available formats (no ISBNs are assigned):

  Adobe (PDF), Rocketbook (RB), Mobipocket (PRC) & HTML

  RAFE AND SHEILA Copyright © 2005 SHILOH WALKER

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without permission.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. They are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

  Edited by Pamela Campbell.

  Cover art by Syneca.

  Warning:

  The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. Rafe and Sheila has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers.

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (E-rotic), and X (X-treme).

  S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination.

  E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature.

  X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

  The Hunters:

  Rafe and Sheila

  Shiloh Walker

  Trademarks Acknowledgement

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

  Chevy BelAir: General Motors Corporation

  Crown Vic: Ford Motor Company

  Prologue

  Sheila looked up from the table where she was helping Erika with her homework, watching as Rafe moved closer to the house. She couldn’t see him yet, but she felt him. He was close.

  Her body always seemed to cry out in agony when he left—and it rejoiced when he returned. Right now, she was clamoring for him and that was really very pathetic.

  Absently, she listened as Erika worked her way through the advanced algebra problems. Inside her chest, her heart had picked up, pounding along at a steady forty beats a minute. Her skin felt hot and tight and she ached inside.

  As he came through the door in silence, she smiled at him.

  Her heart broke a little more when he ignored her, focusing his attention on Erika as he swung a chair around and straddled it, sitting down beside the princess of the house. Sheila held still for long moments as they spoke. She felt brittle, stung by yet another brush-off from him, and she was afraid that if she moved too suddenly, she just might shatter at his feet.

  He rose a few minutes later, that thick, waving black hair tumbling into his dark Italian eyes, his olive complexion glowing. He had Hunted and fed before he’d returned home. She could smell the scent of another person on him as he moved past.

  Her gaze lingered on his face as he gave her a brusque nod before he left the kitchen.

  Tears burned her eyes as she lowered them, trying to focus on the book in front of her.

  Erika whispered softly, “He likes you.”

  Sliding the girl a glance, she forced a smile and said, “Of course he does.”

  Erika rolled her eyes as she murmured, “I mean like that. The way you like him. He just doesn’t like it.”

  Sheila wrapped an arm around Erika’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “We’ve got to get this done…we got TV to watch,” she said, changing the subject and guiding the girl’s uncanny, insightful eyes back to her work.

  Rafe scowled as Sheila left the house, head low, her steps slow. She had donned the dark, close-fitting clothes she wore when she Hunted and he couldn’t keep his eyes away from the way the black fatigues stretched across that delightfully round ass.

  He had missed her.

  Gone three weeks to Excelsior, and all he could think about was her.

  He had sensed her the moment he’d stepped back on Eli’s lands and his blood had seemed to burn inside his veins. Hunger had throbbed in his cock, in his head, tightening his muscles. Seeing her, he had wanted nothing more than to sink to his knees in front of her and wrap his arms around her, burying his face between her full, rounded breasts.

  She made him weak.

  And he hated it.

  So he had ignored what he wanted, ignored the hesitant smile in her eyes, keeping his attention focused on Erika, ignoring the pain he felt coming from her.

  She knew the score, damn it. After giving Erika a slight smile, he had left the kitchen, his scowl deepening once he was out of their sight.

  Now, a day later, he couldn’t stop craving a taste of her. Sheila hadn’t been in her rooms today—he had no idea where she had slept. And he refused to go looking for her.

  Just after sunset, she had returned, her eyes hooded. The long sweep of her rose-colored skirt flowed down the length of her thighs, and a pretty sweater, shades darker than the skirt, gave color to her creamy complexion. Rafe watched her from the greatroom where the Hunters of Eli’s enclave had gathered for the night. Watched as she sauntered in and dropped onto a couch between Mike and Jonathan. Lori was sitting in Jonathan’s lap, so the two of them took up a little more room, meaning that Sheila had to sit closer to Mike than Rafe could stand. Studiously, she ignored the looks he slid her, staring at Eli with intent, focused eyes.

  That had sliced. Deep.

  Mike’s dark gray eyes slid to Rafe as Sheila sat there. Rafe scowled, jerking his gaze away from the Inherent, knowing his anger was naked for all to see.

  When the meeting ended she left for her night of patrol with her shoulders slumped and her eyes on the ground. Damn it. The southern belle looked about as happy as he felt.

  In his hands, he held a short sword, polishing a surface that really didn’t need it. The blade all but glowed in the dim light, reflecting his face back at him as he tore his eyes from Sheila’s form, forcing himself to look at the sword as he ran the cloth up and down.

  But barely a moment passed before he lifted his gaze again, searching for Sheila once more. She was gone from sight.

  Out Hunting.

  Walking away from him…

  Hunger, pain, guilt, need—they all ran together and wrapped a tight fist around his heart. Laying the sword aside, he spun away from the window to pace the floor.

  She knew. He’d warned her from the beginning that he wasn’t the man for a relationship. Not that she ever asked for anything. But he saw the disappointment in her eyes every time he pulled back. Sheila wanted more. Hell, that was what she was made for. And he couldn’t give it to her.

  But he’d be damned if he’d let her walk away.

  Seeing her warmed something inside him that he thought had died long ago. Any man who so much as looked at her had him ready to kill.

  He stalked into her rooms, ignoring his own as he dropped down on her bed and closed his eyes. Her scent was everywhere—her touch all over the place. Wrapped in it, he let it soothe the ache in his gut while he waited.

  Sheila came to an abrupt halt just inside her door.

&nb
sp; Rafe lay on the bed, his long, lean limbs sprawled sexily, the mellow gold of his skin gleaming against the white eyelet comforter. He wore jeans. Just jeans.

  Her heart leaped into her throat, dancing a jig as his eyes opened.

  A light dusting of hair trailed down the center of his chest, thickening into a darker line that disappeared under the waistband of his jeans. In the dim light, he stared at her from hooded eyes, his mouth curved in just the slightest of smiles.

  The muscles in his belly worked as he sat up slowly, his eyes dark, all but glowing with hunger.

  Her own hunger was a pulsing thing in her belly, throbbing and hot. The urge to leap atop him and kiss him senseless rose, but she beat it down.

  Two days. He’d been back two bloody days, and he hadn’t said so much as a word to her. But now, he was in here waiting for her, and she knew damned well why. Not to talk to her, not to hold her or tell her that he’d missed her.

  Just to fuck her. His cock strained under the sturdy denim cloth and she could hear his heartbeat picking up as he stared at her.

  Nothing more. She loved him, with every fiber of her being and she was nothing more than a way for him to slake his hunger.

  Sheila wasn’t doing this anymore. He ignored her, except when he wanted to fuck her. And she just couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Get out, Rafe,” she said quietly, walking away from the bed, sitting down on the chair in front of her vanity, her fingers going to the band that held her braid together.

  “Rough night, Belle?”

  His voice, as always, made her shiver. Sliding him a blank glance, she lifted one shoulder and said, “No. The night went fine. Get out.”

  In the mirror, she could see him as he rose. That vampires didn’t cast a reflection was a lie. They all had one. And his was moving closer to her. Her hands fell away as he took the thick cable of her braid in his hands, slowly unwinding it, combing through the wavy locks, taking an inordinate amount of time doing so, smoothing it down along her shoulders and back, stroking down the locks that spilled over the upper mounds of her breasts.

  As the flats of his hands brushed against her nipples, Sheila bit back the whimper that rose in her throat. Throwing off his hands, she stood up and moved away, walking to her closet and kneeling down to unlace her boots. “How many times do I have to tell you to get out, Rafe?” she asked quietly.

  For a long while, he was silent, and when she raised her head to look at him, a shiver raced down her spine at the intent, hungry look in his eyes. “You kicking me out, Belle?” he asked gruffly.

  “I don’t want you in here.” Her voice shook as she said it, but it was nothing more than the truth.

  Her heart was breaking. It shattered into tiny pieces every time he brushed her off, every time he rose from the bed after fucking her and refused to stay, refused to hold her close as the sun rose in the sky. She couldn’t do this anymore.

  “What exactly are you saying, Sheila?”

  Swallowing, she looked up from her crouched position and said quietly, “It’s over, Rafe. You kept telling me you could only give me so much. Well, I don’t want it anymore. Not if I never get anything else from you. Now get out.”

  A cold look entered his eyes and he crossed to her, kneeling in front of her. As his hand cupped the back of her neck, Sheila braced herself, seeing the naked fury in his eyes, the disbelief… For a second, she thought she saw a flicker of pain. But this was Rafe. He didn’t give a damn about her, not beyond sex.

  “You expect me to believe you don’t want me anymore?” he asked, drawing her closer as he spoke. “Don’t want this?”

  Sheila clenched her jaw as he slanted his mouth across hers, his tongue—that hot sinful tongue—seeking entrance to her closed lips. His hand came up when she refused to admit him, cupping her jaw, pressing down just there until her mouth opened unwillingly.

  As he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, she bit him, trying to jerk away. “Damn it, Rafe, stop it!” she rasped, arching her neck away from him.

  “You want me, Sheila. You know it…I can smell the cream in your pussy, the fire in your blood. You want me—but you think you can kick me out?” he growled.

  She flattened her hands against his chest, shoving with all her might, but he didn’t budge. More than a hundred years older than she was, Rafe was a dominant vampire, and there was no way she could move him if he didn’t want to be moved.

  “Stop it, Rafe,” she whimpered. Heat sizzled through her veins. He hadn’t lied. She did want him. Lightning streaks of pleasure suffused her pussy as he ground himself against her and her body ached for his touch.

  But she’d made up her mind. Damn it, it was over. With a tiny scream of rage, she reached up and yanked on his hair—hard—and as his hands loosened on her, she rolled away from him, coming to her feet and crossing the room as he rose and turned to glare at her.

  “What, Sheila? You in the mood to play rough?” he drawled.

  Crossing her arms over her chest, she hugged herself. She shook her head, staring at him as tears started to well in her eyes. “I want you to leave, Rafe,” she whispered thickly. Blinking away the tears, she glared at him as he continued to stand there, staring at her. “Leave!”

  Rafe knew he was being an ass. He couldn’t stop it. Damn it, she wasn’t going to do this. He crossed to her, cornering her against the wall, planting his hands on either side of her as she tried to sidle away. Lowering his head, he raked his teeth along her neck, catching her hands and pinning them beside her head when she tried to shove him away.

  “Easy, Belle,” he whispered. “I’m sorry…I know I’m a jerk. I just want you too much. I hate it. Don’t kick me out.”

  His heart clenched in his chest as she turned her face aside and he saw a tear trickle down her cheek.

  “Rafe, just leave me alone, please.”

  Covering her trembling mouth with his, he told himself this had to stop. He couldn’t keep putting that pain in her eyes. All he wanted now was to kiss it away.

  He crushed her body against his, wrapping his arms around her as he brought her wrists behind her, pinning them at the small of her back. He rocked his cock against the softness of her belly, breathing in the soft scent of her body.

  “Just let me…” he murmured.

  Sheila whispered again, “Rafe, don’t. Just leave me alone.”

  A cool wind passed through the room, awareness trickling down his spine as the sincerity of her words finally hit home. As he lifted his head, he grew aware of eyes on him. Staring down at her, he realized that she wouldn’t accept him. If he took her now, it would be rape.

  “Leave her alone, Rafe,” a soft, faintly accented voice stated.

  “Eli, this isn’t your concern,” he said, slowly releasing Sheila, shame burning hot in his belly as he flicked a glance at his Master before stepping back from Sheila.

  “Well, unfortunately, that is where you are wrong,” Eli countered, his voice flat and cold. “This is my land, my territory. Sheila is one of my people and taking care of her is definitely my concern.”

  Rafe watched as Sheila slid to the ground, her cheeks bright pink with shame, tears rolling steadily down her face. He turned and glared at Eli. “I wouldn’t hurt her,” he snarled.

  Behind Eli, the werewolf Jonathan stood, his face grim, eyes swirling. Rage flowed off of Jonathan in waves and suddenly, Rafe realized how close he had come to doing just that.

  That close…to taking her, whether she wanted him or not.

  Closing his eyes, he forced himself to take a deep breath, trying to still the hunger inside him. Finally his eyes opened and he stared at Eli with an unreadable expression.

  “I wouldn’t have hurt her, Eli,” he said quietly.

  From the corner of his eye, he watched as Sheila flinched at his words and he felt sick at his stomach.

  Eli was silent.

  It was Jonathan who spoke up, his voice rough and low, angry. “Rafe, you’ve already hurt her. Can’t you see
that?”

  Lifting his head, he stared at them both. Slowly, he turned around, looked at Sheila, saw the tears gleaming in her eyes, and her mouth trembling as she tried not to cry.

  Then, with a rough curse, he was gone.

  Chapter One

  Six months later

  Rafe hadn’t been able to find Sheila for three days. Not that he had been looking.

  But when the sweet scent of plumeria started to fade from Eli’s enclave, he knew something was going on.

  For the past six months, he had left her alone. Realizing how close he had come to the unthinkable, he’d gone out of his way to stay away from her, giving her the distance she no doubt wanted from him. Not seeing her, not touching her, ate at him and he was slowly going out of his mind.

  When he realized that she was gone, though, really gone, he just snapped. Insane fury pulsed through his veins as he tore the house apart, searching for her, growling demands at everyone in the house, only to be ignored.

  Stalking into the Master’s quarters with hell in his eyes probably wasn’t the best way to start the day…but then again, for some odd reason, Rafe seemed to be spoiling for a fight all the time lately. It had gotten worse since that night when he had almost raped Sheila, and now it was getting impossible to control.

  “Where’s the little southern belle?” he demanded, flinging himself down onto a long, leather couch.

  Eli glanced up from his desk just in time to see the leather molding itself to the long, rangy vampire’s form. And to see the fire in Rafe’s gaze. He couldn’t help the smile that filled his eyes, but he did manage to keep it from curling his lips.

  “She’s gone away for a while,” he said, leaning back and folding his hands across his belly. “Sheila has been rather—unhappy,” he decided after a moment. “She petitioned at first to leave, but we decided a vacation might suit.”