Chapter Five
Gwen
She spent a long time under the hot spray of the shower, letting it soak into her bones, and wash away her tears. This was pure madness.
Gwen stared up at the ceiling. “Why?” she sobbed to a god who’d offered her no warning at all.
She always had faith and trusted things would go right, but now she felt adrift, that faith shaken.
Stop it! Dry your tears and pull up your big girl panties. There was no way she’d get out of here if she gave into fear.
But why? Why the hell did he kidnap me? She didn’t understand. In the restaurant Tyr had more than a few gorgeous female companions. He could have whatever and whoever he wanted.
That must be it, she frowned as it occurred to her that maybe it was because she wasn't willing that he wanted her. She hadn't fallen all over herself, giggled and batted her eyes, or jumped to serve him.
Maybe if I do his bidding and behave like a good little girl, he’ll quickly tire of me and let me go. Of course, that could easily backfire, and despite what he said, he'd just dispose of me.
There was no point in playing these ‘what if’ mind games. She refused to act the meek and obedient prisoner.
If he thinks I’m going to be a willing slave, he has another thing coming. Even if she was willing to pretend, she wasn’t that good of an actress and far too sarcastic. I’m so screwed.
With a ragged sigh she got out of the shower. Gwen glanced at her soaked clothes, debating putting them on again.
I’d freeze my ass off. Tyr kept his apartment as cold as a crypt.
With an angry huff she abandoned the notion, but not her panties. Gwen rolled her undies in several towels until they were dry enough to slip back on. She started to put the towels in the laundry chute, then decided to throw them on the floor instead.
Screw you, Tyr.
She hid the grooming scissors in the back of her panties, then buttoned up the giant dress shirt the creep had given her. Gwen opened the door to find the bastard tugging off his pants, leaving only his boxers.
"Time to sleep, get in." He pointed toward the bed.
Her mouth went dry as she looked from Tyr to the bed. If this were a normal situation, she’d be beside herself having a man who looked like a demigod, washboard abs and all, tell her to get into bed. But this wasn’t a normal situation, and any man who abducted a woman and brought her to his bed likely wanted favors she was unwilling to perform.
"I'm not tired, and if you think I'm getting in that bed with you you're insane!" she growled at him.
"Too bad! It’s nearly morning and I’m exhausted. I won't have you wandering around tearing up the place while I sleep."
Her heart sped up as Tyr approached. He took her arm and pulled her toward the bed, then paused.
"Give me the scissors."
Dammit! How did he fucking know!
"I don't know what you are talking about," she said as innocently as possible.
“I’m not a moron despite what you might think.”
Tyr held her still with one hand as he lifted the shirt, exposing her underwear. He reached around and patted her ass, his icy blue eyes pinning her the entire time.
Shit! It wasn’t a very good hiding spot, but it was the only one available.
She held her breath, still her heart beat so fast she thought it would explode, as his large hand dipped into her panties and pulled out the only means of defending herself. Tyr’s fingers grazed her bare ass as he retrieved the scissors, and a shiver worked up her spine.
Damn you, she cursed him, and herself for the unbidden reaction to his touch.
Nervously she watched him, but Tyr just tossed the scissors toward the bathroom. Before she could object, he spun her around, and his steely arms banded across her chest. Tyr dropped onto the mattress, tugging her back against his firm chest.
“No!” she snarled.
She scratched his arms and threw her head back, striking his shoulder. Tyr grunted, but was otherwise unaffected. She was trapped. This was not how she was going to go down. Gwen clamped her legs shut as she lay stiff, wondering what the hell he was going to do next.
"I wasn't planning to fuck you tonight," he said calmly.
"Oh, so you do plan to rape me!"
"Don't you worry, when I do fuck you, you'll be willing and begging for it," he growled into her ear.
Beg! We'll see who begs!
"Not on your life!" she grumbled as she unsuccessfully tried to put space between them.
“Just settle down. I said I won’t and meant it.”
"Well excuse me for not believing the word of my abductor. This happens to be my first kidnapping, so I’m not familiar with proper protocol!” she snapped.
Tyr snorted.
Gwen glanced over her shoulder to find him smiling.
“That wasn’t meant to be funny.” She glared at him, and his smart-ass grin broadened.
Too bad Tyr was so fucking arrogant and undoubtedly psychotic, because when he smiled, he was stunningly handsome, dimples forming in his cheeks. And it didn’t help she could feel his broad shoulders and chiseled abs pressed against her back, his thick corded arms banding her sensitive breasts. Her stomach fluttered, unable to ignore the sizable bulge in his crotch, and he wasn’t even hard.
Don’t! Gwen closed her eyes. Self-loathing washed over her at the way her body shamefully betrayed her.
"Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, Ninety-nine bottles of beer, take one down pass it around, ninety-eight bottles of beer on the wall."
Tyr groaned as she belted out the song.
* * *
Tyr
The woman is going to drive me to madness.
Gwen sang her defiant song until she thought he'd fallen asleep. But sleep didn’t come, even though he could feel dawn approach. Despite how rigid Gwen was, her pert little behind was tucked against his crotch. It took all his strength after seeing and feeling her luscious ass to not grow aroused. The memory of her pleasuring herself, and the way her skin flushed, her blood red lips parted as she orgasmed, tortured him.
Don’t you fucking dare get hard. She’ll unman you with her bare hands. He repressed a groan when unsolicited the image of her giving him a rough hand job nearly broke his concentration. Gods help me.
Eventually Gwen’s breathing slowed and he felt her relax in his arms. As the light of day crept past the thick brocade curtains, he was finally able to drift off. It was a welcome blessing after the day he’d had.
Sweet feminine musk filled his nostrils. He breathed it in deep.
“Mine.”
He bit down on the soft creamy flesh of the redhead’s neck, his fangs sinking deep, as his cock rammed into her trembling wet pussy. The taste of her blood and her passionate cry tinged with a hint of pain from the way he pierced her at both ends made him swell larger.
“More! Fuck me harder, you beast.” His woman was mouthy as ever, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Her gasped demand had him thrusting harder, his ass straining to nail her to the bed. She curled her hips to meet him thrust for thrust, her heels digging into his ass goading him on, like the beast she proclaimed him to be. His woman gripped his hair and tugged his mouth to hers. Her tongue delved into his mouth, stroking his fangs. They were shockingly sensitive. His hips jerked in response, eliciting a lusty cry from his wild woman. He swung his hips harder, faster, reveling in the sound of her building ardor and slapping flesh. Her silky wet pussy gripped his cock, stroking him as it spasmed. Just as the orgasm tightened in his balls, everything around him changed.
“No!” He resisted, but the mind-blowing image faded anyway.
Tyr blinked as he took in his surroundings. The Sovereigns, their lieutenants and other high-ranking Kindred were gathered in his meeting hall. The tension was thick. Devon was riled about whatever was being discussed, but Tyr couldn't see who sided with the Sovereign, his focus was too narrow. Violence erupted. Devon stumbled toward him, bl
ood spilling from the man’s chest. Devon’s eyes held a look of shock, and he watched the man’s skin slowly darken to ash as Devon crumpled to the ground. He couldn't tell who'd struck the Sovereign.
The image again shifted before he could even consider what precipitated the madness in his own home. Again, he was outside The Cellar wine bar. The bartender Rob stood watching from across the street. He pulled on a black mask as Gwen locked up.
I know how this ends!
Tyr’s eyes flew open. He tasted Gwen’s blood, the ferrous sweet tang coated his lips and tongue.
Shit!
He looked down to see that he'd nicked the side of Gwen's throat. Tyr repressed a groan. Gently he licked the wound to heal any traces of what he'd done, then shifted so his head wasn't anywhere near her neck.
Clearly, even I can't be trusted.
What he’d done was immediately overshadowed by what he saw in her blood. The images scrolled through his mind. The unbridled passion was perhaps a dream, induced by the mouthy woman sharing his bed, but the rest of it would happen. That was certain.
What caused the uproar?
The gatherings weren't sunshine and roses but they rarely turned into outright brawls. Why was Devon ashed? Granted, he'd been having more than a few problems coming from the man’s region. And yes, he’d even threatened the pain in the ass, but Devon wasn’t ended by his command. So, who did it? The visions were like a frustrating puzzle where he only saw half the pieces. He was tempted to take another small sip of Gwen’s blood, to see if it would reveal the missing links.
No. This was exactly the problem.
In his long, long life, he walked a fine line, struggling to not become a monster. But if he couldn’t resist her... Tyr clenched his jaw as he imagined some power-hungry bastard draining her dry.
Maybe I can’t solve my problem, but I can at least solve one of hers. That fucking thief of a bartender needs to die.
* * *
Gwen
Gwen frowned in her sleep as the scene of a crowd replaced the most salacious dream ever. She knew the visions when they came. They’d visited off and on her whole life. Even if she was sleeping, they made a part of her stand up and take note. They had a certain unexplainable quality to them. The ones that came true always had layers of sensation just like life, rather than the flights of fantasy that regular dreams presented. And over time she'd learned to sit back and pay attention as they played out.
What do I see, hear, smell, feel? Gwen relaxed into it. I’m standing in the threshold of a large wood-paneled room, filled with serious looking people. There’s tension, but what are they saying? I can’t quite hear what the argument is about before chaos descends. A dark man is stabbed by another. But she only caught snippets of the assailant. These dreams were often that way, they let you see a narrow field, and other things were unclear, so you paid attention to what you could. List the details. List the details. This vision seemed important. The dark-skinned man looked up. His features are much like the man who had dinner with Tyr the other night, except his nose is more hawkish. He looks like the native people of Mexico. Tyr is at the head of the group. The bloodied man reaches out to Tyr as he falls at his feet. Before the man hits the ground, he begins to disintegrate. How is that possible? Tyr is fierce as he regains control. He bellows for order and his voice carries a crushing sense of power that sweeps the room.
How can a man turn to ash? And what was it that emanated from Tyr? She was still reeling from the images when the scene shifted.
Rob is in an alley by work. He pulls on a ski mask and creeps across the street toward me as I lock up the bar. I’m suddenly in my own body, his knife at my neck, Gwen cataloged the disturbing details.
Just as she began to panic at the implication of this dream, Rob faded away, not the street scene itself, just Rob. She started to wake up but the tantalizing scent of sandalwood lulled her back into the drifting sleep. Lips at her neck kissed sensually, pulling her back into the erotic scene from before. The image of Tyr kissing her assailed her mind. When Tyr pulled away, passion and adoration swam in his blue eyes. His lips were parted in a smile, showing the tips of unusually sharp canines. The image lasted only an instant but before it faded, she experienced her own feelings as well as his, overwhelming love, contentment and devotion.
Gwen awoke more than a little confused. She froze, feeling the massive body behind her, and last night’s misadventures came flooding back. The way Tyr still possessively gripped her didn’t help the disoriented feelings and memories shuffling into place in her mind. Never before had she ping-ponged from one intense vision to the next. She should've been beside herself with worry about the images of violence, but instead it was the one of Tyr's affection that had her the most unnerved.
And I returned the sentiment. I must fall victim to Stockholm Syndrome. Yet a part of her knew that wasn’t true. Her visions were never wrong.
Let it go. Gwen shook her head, hoping to drive the conflicting emotions from her mind. Only time would answer her questions as the real events unfolded.
Rob! She frowned as she returned to the scene that was easier to grasp. They weren’t the best of friends, but why was he planning to attack her?
The cognac and wine! Gwen winced as the pieces came together. She’d seen too much. That thieving asshole!
Except the vision about Rob was strange. One minute he was there, ready to do her harm then poof, he was gone. Usually the entire scene faded all at once, but this was different.
I have to warn Owen and Landon. She wouldn’t stay in Diablo Falls long enough for Rob to act out his vengeance, but she wouldn’t leave her bosses at his mercy either.
As Gwen lay there considering everything, her stomach growled.
Ugh, I’m starving.
She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, it was past five pm and she hadn’t eaten since dinner yesterday. It was a miracle she’d slept so long, but time passed quickly when she was caught up in her dreams. She shifted beneath the arm still wrapped around her, except all she managed to do was roll over and face her behemoth abductor. Gwen froze as she took in the sight of him. Tyr’s blond cropped hair, was now long. Not just a bit long, but really long. He looked like a Nordic warrior.
How? Her eyes widened. No one could grow two feet of hair in their sleep! She had to be dreaming, except this was more like a nightmare. What the hell is going on?!
She stared dumbfounded at Tyr’s chin now covered by a full beard. Peeking past his upper lip were two long sharp canines. The man had fangs.
Oh holy fuck! No wonder he never smiles in public.
Tyr was GQ chic not goth, fake fangs didn't fit his persona. Maybe she could fool herself into believing they were prosthetic if his frigging hair hadn't sprouted a mile long in the span of few hours. And there were other things that weren’t quite right about the man. His skin was cool but she’d been too riled last night to notice. Gwen listened, he didn't breathe, nor was there a beating heart in his chest.
Her hair stood on end and a shiver crept up her spine.
How is this possible? Yet deep down she knew. No. Vampires are a myth. She stared at him in shock, desperately trying not to panic. Holy crap! What am I mixed up with?
Chapter Six
Tyr
Tyr awoke to the pungent fragrance of Gwen's fear. Two wide green eyes stared at him. They were like giant saucers in her head.
Seriously! What now? I didn’t hurt her. I behaved—mostly. She'd been fast asleep when he nicked her neck, so that couldn’t be it. Aw shit! My fucking hair.
The woman had thrown him for a loop and he'd totally forgotten what happened when he slept. He snapped his mouth shut, but the cat was out of the bag, she’d obviously already seen his fangs. This was why he never took mortals to his bed—at least not to sleep.
"Don't freak out, Gwen," he said calmly as her chest heaved. He was hesitant to release his grasp, there was no telling what she'd do.
"Don't freak out! Don't freak out!" sh
e repeated frantically.
"Yes, don't freak out. I keep telling you, I'm not going to hurt you."
"Start talking, Tyr! What the fuck are you?!" Gwen stammered as she gaped at his full head of hair then back to his mouth again.
"I think you figured it out." He grimaced.
"That's not possible. I must be having a meltdown. Let me go!" Gwen fought him.
"You aren't going crazy. I’ll let you go when you calm down," he spoke softly as she clamped her eyes shut.
Gwen shook her head in denial, angling her head and torso as far away from him as possible. He wanted to groan. The position forced her hips against his crotch. Her auburn hair was a tousled mess, framing her lovely face, even though it was pinched in disbelief at the moment. He wanted to roll on top of her and situate himself between the bare thighs that rubbed against his. Unfortunately, that would cause a whole new bout of hysterics.
* * *
Gwen
Why did he have to admit the truth, confirming her worst fear? Gwen tried to breathe calmly before she passed out, but she was spiraling. Last night she worried about rape and murder, today it was being eaten.
This isn’t possible. She scoured her fractured mind for anything that could logically explain how such an aberration could exist.
Gwen stilled as the denial echoed in her mind, sounding too much like her mother. Tears welled up in her eyes at the memory. She had been seventeen and it was hard enough dealing with the worries of a teenager, but she was also learning that she had a gift, or curse as it often felt. Her mother had made it infinitely worse.
I am not possessed by the devil. And I don’t need to be medicated! The accusation ripped out her heart, when it had taken all of her courage to admit what she was going through in the first place.
It would seem there are many impossible things in this world that are real. And if Tyr is a freak then what does that make me? Shame filled her for making the same prejudicial mistake she had suffered under.
First Sight [Diablo Falls] Page 4
