Blood Possession by Tessa Dawn Page B

voice low and made his tone as soothing as he could. “Brooke, you will come with me now, and all will be explained to you soon.” He bent to her ear to speak a gentle but powerful compulsion. “Please know that I will not hurt you.”
    The stunning woman— Brooke —swayed. Her face grew ashen and pale, and Napolean had to steady her before they could begin walking. “Be at ease, milady,” he purred, taking a firm grasp of her arm.
    And then he quickly led her to his truck.

five
    As the Land Cruiser made its way along increasingly narrow, steep dirt roads, Brooke scooted as far back into the beige seats as she could, and molded her body against the cold, unyielding leather. The night had grown intensely dark and ominous, and the looming mountain peaks, with their endless trails and hidden chasms, seemed to be closing in around her. Her eyes darted around the inside of the cabin like a frightened deer’s, taking in her surroundings and studying her abductors: The driver was an imposing-looking blond with chin-length hair that fell in paradoxical soft waves around the frame of his face. He had the body and intensity of a pit bull and the stalwart will of a Rottweiler. She wanted nothing to do with him.
    Sitting next to him in the passenger seat was another male with an unusual mixture of black-and-blond hair beneath a soft widow’s peak. Several of the blond tendrils gleamed snow-white, and his eyes were a sharp, crystal blue, harboring a deep chasm of intensity in their depths.
    Swallowing hard, she brought her attention to the backseat and the giant of a male who sat as silently as an owl beside her. Like a wizened bird of prey, he glanced at her often—staring straight through her eyes to the seat of her soul with his penetrating gaze—and it was as if she knew on some fundamental, cellular level: These men were not human.
    She blinked rapidly and struggled to dismiss the thought.
    No .
    Do not go there.
    Her sanity would not survive going there .
    So what if the one the driver had called milord —he had called himself Napolean—had strange, vivid eyes that alternated between a deep, galaxy black—with odd silver speckles in the centers—and an otherworldly… red ? That didn’t mean he wasn’t human. Of course he was human! What else could he be?
    And so what if Napolean’s harshly beautiful face, with all of its sculpted planes and smooth angles, was accentuated by a strong, purposeful mouth that sometimes revealed a hint of…fangs.
    Fangs!
    Oh, hell…
    What were these men?
    Brooke shut her eyes and forced her attention on her breathing .
    In and out.
    Deep breath in.
    Slow breath out.
    Do. Not. Hyperventilate .
    As long as there was life, there was hope, and she wasn’t dead yet. She had to keep her wits about her. Any chance of survival depended upon it.
    Slowly, and with deliberate intent, she opened her eyes and forced herself to hold the Great One’s gaze. Great One? Where in the world had that come from? Her eyes swept down from his magnificent face to his long, flowing hair—impossibly beautiful, straight hair—that fell all the way to his waist yet appeared in no way feminine. The very strands seemed to sway in silent motion, imbued with kinetic energy, flowing gracefully as if entwined with a gentle, unseen wind.
    As if they were a living part of the nature of wind, itself.
    Brooke cleared her throat and looked away.
    Okay, she really was losing it.
    Elemental creatures with inhuman beauty…eyes that sometimes glowed…and fangs?
    He reached out his hand to touch her, and she almost flew backward through the window, banging her head sharply against the glass. “Ouch!” she cried, stretching her neck to avoid his touch. “Don’t touch me!”
    He leaned toward her then, and his eyes captured hers in a chillingly hypnotic gaze. His powerful hand swept the length of her jaw, traced the curve of her mouth, and gently tipped her chin to maintain their eye contact. And then he focused on her