Shadow's Curse Read Online Free Page A

dripping gruesome smile. Hadn’t heard that one before.
    The remaining men retreated, their shouts and panicked cries better than a Beethoven symphony.
    “Hold your ground, boys,” someone shouted. “We ain’t gonna let no ruddy animal scare us off.”
    The panicked men rallied under the newcomer. A knife sailed past David’s face to clang against the bricks. Then a broken bottle.
    So much for easy.
    David lunged for his nearest attacker, savaging him with a rake of his claws. Tearing clean a chunk of thigh. Breaking an ankle between his jaws. The man screamed, hunched and shaking against further attack. A bullet smashed into the wall above David’s head. He whipped around in time to catch another murderous bastard aiming a long steel knife. One focused, ruthless look from David was all it took for the rascal to flee in a mad scramble for safety, his shoes ringing loud against the cobbles.
    One more murderous gang of cutthroats to spread the word of the mysterious monster prowling the midnight streets. One more victim saved by the ghostly beast of the night.
    He turned his head for his first real look at the woman when a sudden burst of pain ripped through his skull and his brain exploded with a dazzle of fireworks. His gaze narrowed on the upraised plank gripped in the woman’s shaking hands. The plank swung down, the fireworks became a bomb blast, and darkness rose up like a wave to swallow him whole.
    *  *  *
    “Wake up. Please wake up,” Callista whispered as she shook the man by his shoulder.
    He groaned, blinking bleary, unfocused eyes. “Go ’way, Mac. Head’s splitting. Whisky . . . too much . . .” Then he slumped back against the wooden post he’d been lashed to, wrists taut behind him.
    She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders against the attic’s chill and shook him again. “I’m not Mac, but please, you have to wake up.”
    Even though long familiar with the otherworldly, what she’d seen back in the alley still seemed unbelievable. The strange blurring of air around his prone body as a swirling wind burned against her face, the prick and sting of unfamiliar magic up and down her arms as wolf gave way to naked man. Her shock lasted mere seconds, but it had been enough time for Corey’s men to return. She struggled as they grabbed her, but it was no use. She and the unconscious stranger had been brought back to the house.
    She’d been locked in her bedchamber. She’d not seen what they’d done with their prisoner. Not until a jimmied lock and a quiet search had ended here in the attic among dusty trunks and broken furniture.
    She shook him once more, trying very hard to keep her eyes on his face and off the rest of him, which remained as he’d been found—very, very naked. Not that it was difficult to keep her stare fixed above his shoulders. He was the most exquisite man she’d ever seen. A face like a fallen angel, all chiseled angles and stern lines, a stubborn chin, a straight nose, and a sinfully full mouth. His blond hair curled against his neck, slightly longer than fashion allowed, but obviously cut by a very good barber. In fact, even without clothes to label class or rank, it was easy to perceive he was no Whitechapel thatch-gallows. From the impossibly broad shoulders to the well-defined, muscular body, the man oozed elegance and the confidence that comes with wealth. Hard to manage being nude and trussed like a Christmas goose awaiting the farmer, but the gentleman did it in spades. The only incongruity was his back, which bore horrible scars as if he’d been through a war—or two. Still, that onlyadded to the raw physicality of the man. If that were possible.
    Her gaze snapped back to his face and off his . . . “Can you hear me? Please say something.” Who knew how much time she had before Branston checked on her—or the prisoner. She needed to speak with the man first. She needed to find out who he was.
    She needed to find out what he was.
    He