by J. A. Saare
“Here we go,” Trevor muttered as they exited the buildings and walked to a caravan of vampyren surrounding what appeared to be a horse trailer of some kind.
She scanned the faces as they neared until she found the one she sought. Relief only lasted until anger suffocated the fear she carried.
Lucius Mercoix was the very image from Portia’s vision—beautiful, large, and entirely deadly. He was dressed similarly, in an expensive dark suit and tie. His white-blond hair was trimmed short, bloodred eyes gleaming, and his fanged smile flashed brightly in the dark.
“Stop there, Mr. McAvoy,” Lucius instructed in a lyrical lilt.
Arden felt Trevor’s absence as she continued forward without him. She glanced at the mass of bars and metal and noted it wasn’t a horse trailer at all, but rather a truck transformed into a cage. The bright silver rails mirroring the moon above cast light upon the large black shape thrashing madly inside. Tenderness and longing squeezed her heart, making it difficult to breathe.
As much as she wanted to call out to Wolfe, she couldn’t.
Not yet.
Stepping forward, Lucius ordered sharply, “Suffer unto me. Kneel.”
Wolfe’s enraged snarls accompanied her compliance, his fury made all the more horrific by the sounds of claws scraping against polished steel and silver.
“I’m here, leech,” she spoke flatly, eyes on the slacks before her. “Release the Lycae.”
“Look at me.”
Slowly, she lifted her chin, until she met his bloodred eyes.
“I’m going to relieve you of the burden of your head first,” Lucius informed her smugly. “I plan to mount it on my wall as a trophy.”
The loud crashing noises caused by the truck’s wheels bouncing and shifting on the concrete were nearly deafening. Wolfe’s snarls became one constant growl, so throaty and gravelly it made her skin shiver and her spine prickle. When he was finally free, he would unleash unholy Armageddon on every leech in the vicinity. And when he was done—his body, fangs, and claws bloodied—he would be coming.
For her.
“I wouldn’t recommend that.” She managed to speak over the gut wrenching sounds, completely calm. “My life isn’t worth waging war with the Lycae.”
Arching a blond brow, he asked, “Are you offering to repudiate that ridiculous vow of yours?”
She ground her teeth and answered tersely. “No.”
Lucian made a motion with his hand and returned with a sword nestled inside his palm, the hilt held reverently within his long, pale fingers. “Then it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I want to see your life’s blood spilled and consumed along the stones at my feet. I want to watch as you bleed out and the light fades from your eyes.”
“Last chance, leech,” she whispered.
The sword swung, arching back, and Trevor’s loud roar extended to the ocean. “Dies Irae!”
The night sky filled with light, all black becoming white, blinding and radiant. Several werewolves shimmered and appeared alongside her. The first threw his weight into her and sent them tumbling to the left, the other launched at Lucius.
“It’s a trap!” Lucius snarled, swinging the sword round and into the chest of the werewolf with a sickening slurp. He kicked the body to the side as blood spurted and he braced for battle. The wolf attempted to find its feet as Lucian moved in for the killing blow, and the Lycae next to her took his place, lashing out with vicious teeth.
The resonating rip of flesh tearing and bones breaking engulfed the alley, followed by the bitter tang of blood. Arden staggered to her feet, awestruck by the sight of wolves converging upon the large silver cage as vampyren tried to cut through them, firing sidearms and delivering blows.
Howls echoed in the blue hued night, cries of solidarity and fellowship. Adam had warned her ahead of time, preparing her for the sight of the ascension. Wolfe would feed off the energy and strength of the pack, taking it into himself.
When that happened . . .
A lone reply, deafening in its intensity, carried over them all.
Wolfe.
Chaos erupted. Throaty wolven snarls, shrill hissing, and the rip of claw and fang floated to the water—drifting out with the tide. She reacted, rushing for the cage that rattled and shook. The bars slowly warbled as Wolfe’s head and shoulders pushed them apart. His shimmering green eyes locked onto her.
A hand came around her throat, stopping her progression and bearing her head back until something sharp tore through the thin turtleneck and replaced it.
“I’ll still have your head, halfling,” Lucius spat, twining his fingers into her hair.
“Yes,” Arden snarled and swiveled, bringing her torso around. “You will.”
She turned despite the blade that pierced her skin and tore through muscle and tendon. Her hands wound up his waist, past his chest, until she held his face in her hands. This was what she had waited for.
The time had finally come.
Closing her eyes, she whispered, “A life for a life,” and released the anguish locked inside that had driven her for so very long.
Pure misery permeated her soul, the pain so intense she could no longer bear her own weight. Lucius cried out as her hands, burning white-hot, acted as a tether to keep her upright when her knees sagged and her head fell back. He struggled feebly against her and released the sword, which clattered as it bounded harmlessly along the cement.
She used his fear against him, feasting on his terror. Emotions from the long dead burst free from the carefully constructed confinement she composed to shroud them, each memory a taint marring her soul. She danced with the mistress called madness, beseeching her forward, embracing the lunacy that dwelled within. Together they swayed, tormenting and antagonizing their prey.
She fed Portia’s death back to Lucius—every brutal blow, each agonizing swipe of his deadly claws—until she came to her death. The vampyren king felt the dull thrust of a clawed hand ripping at his own heart, experienced what it meant to accept impending death, to know the end was at hand. He hollered pitifully, the sound weak and desolate, in her mind’s eye. As he struggled, she laughed, wanting to see him suffer, incensed by this chance to witness his descent into depravity.
A scream resonated inside her head—of rage, of grief, of loss—when she realized where the sadistic tendency would lead her. She tried to pull away, to avoid the all-knowing lure that she might never recover from.
Dimly, she perceived Trevor’s frantic voice shouting, “Separate them, now!”
Her body was jostled, moved back and away. When her hands were ripped free she raged against the lost contact, separated from those last lingering memories of Portia and the misery that tore cleanly from her soul.
“Shh, t’keeira,” Wolfe’s husky voice whispered as the sweet, woodsy smell and searing heat of him surrounded her like the midday sun. “I’ve got you.”
She tried to open her eyes, determined to see him, but the darkness held her within, laughing mockingly, taunting her with the madness she had knowingly called upon. She thrashed against the unyielding arms holding her so tightly, clawing madly and screaming until her throat burned.
“It’s all right, Cricket,” Trevor murmured soothingly, and she felt a heavy palm rest upon her forehead. “When you wake, it willna hurt anymore. I need you tae rest. Sleep for me now.”
He chanted something in Latin, his voice incredibly soft and comforting.
Slowly, she ceased to struggle, enchanted by the brilliant, colorless light that appeared and floated just ahead. It basked her in waves of reassurance and serenity before the calming luminosity turned blue, then grey, and eventually cased her in black.
Chapter Fourteen
The first thing Arden became aware of was the warm body pressed snugly against her, a rhythmic heartbeat resounding loudly beside her ear. Then, Wolfe’s intoxicating scent traveled past her nose, hovering in the confines of her parched throat. She nestled closer, tucking her hands into her chest.
&n
bsp; The large hand on her bottom slid up, gentle fingers traveling along the indentions of her spine. She opened her eyes, peering up and taking in the smooth skin along his chest until she met Wolfe’s sultry gaze.
Frowning slightly and struggling to think, she murmured, “What happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he growled in a throaty timbre, urging her onto her back and coming up and over. “All that does is that we’re together. Right here, right now.”
He pressed his entire body against her, slid a knee between her knees to separate and part her thighs, and she quickly discovered they were both stark naked. A low moan caught in her throat when she felt his shaft pulsating against her, the thick length throbbing, long and hard.
“I can’t wait any longer for you, t’keeira,” Wolfe said and licked a path from her shoulder to her breast. “It’s taking all of my control not to slide inside that hot sex of yours.”
He nipped at her skin with sharp fangs and held her still as she squirmed and thrashed. The bloodlust evaporated, replaced by a physical need so intense she wanted to scream. She clawed at his shoulders, dragging him closer, and he growled quietly against her breast. Any previous resistance she’d experienced was gone, replaced by the desire to taunt and satisfy this male.
“Your male,” an inner voice reminded, encouraging her to lure and tempt.
Desperate and yearning, she struggled against the arms and body that trapped her. Her sex clenched with each stroke of his tongue, her bare breasts straining as they sought the warmth of his mouth.
“Wolfe,” she begged, arching her back in complete surrender. “Please.”
“Don’t worry, hellcat. We’ll get there.” He soothed a strong nip of his teeth below her nipple with the caress of his tongue and chuckled darkly when she cried out. “I have to make sure you’re good and ready for me. I want you so hot and needy you’ll go all soft beneath me, taking anything and everything I want to give to you. And I have a hell of a lot I want to give you, t’keeira.”
His hips ground into her, the smooth, broad head of his cock brushing against the edge of her sex drenched in pure liquid heat. Her entire body quaked, her limbs trembling violently. Her whimper was muted as his lips left her breast, captured her mouth, and his naughty tongue disappeared inside. Each deep stroke was heaven, sending electric tremors down the back of her neck and creating a ball of heat in the pit of her stomach.
He ripped his mouth away, and when she clutched his shoulders, he grasped one wrist snugly in each hand and placed her arms over head, holding her in place as he gazed at her trembling body hungrily. His eyes were no longer dark, glowing brightly instead, and his upper and lower incisors were slightly tipped. But she felt no fear, only a debilitating arousal.
The urges returned, encouraging her to entice and attract her mate.
Tempt.
“Wolfe.” She closed her eyes and licked her lips, thrusting her breasts out by arching her back.
“You’re so fucking beautiful. I want to remember you just like this.”
“Please,” she whimpered helplessly.
“Tell me what you need, t’keeira. I want to hear you say it.”
“You,” she groaned, and wriggled. “I need you.”
Wolfe released her hands and shifted his big body back, resting on his heels. His cock jutted out from the dark thatch of hair between his legs—proud, long, and impossibly thick. The bulbous head was painfully swollen, almost purple, the crown rounded and smooth. Meeting his multihued irises, she watched in awe as the colors shifted and intertwined.
“Show me.”
Her wobbly limbs couldn’t obey fast enough. Scrambling on hands and knees, she rushed to the space between his outstretched knees. Wolfe’s hands twined in her hair as she opened her mouth wide, took the head of his cock between her lips, and rotated between licking at the shaft beneath and sucking the tip.
“More.” Wolfe’s fingers tightened in her hair and he moved his hips.
She flicked her tongue along the soft bottom portion and swallowed him down, stopping only when he brushed against the back of her throat. Wanting to take even more of him, she struggled to relax. Each pass took him deeper, then deeper. A bitter saltiness coated her tongue, the taste unique and entirely male.
“Stay still,” he ordered hoarsely, wrapping a hand beneath her jaw and keeping the other nestled snugly at the base of her head. “I want to take those sweet lips for a ride.”
He pumped his hips slowly, claiming her mouth as he would undoubtedly claim her body. She breathed through her nose, relaxing her throat. Each time she moaned, Wolfe went deeper.
“Your mouth feels amazing,” he groaned, thrusting between her lips rhythmically. “But I bet that tight sex of yours will feel even better. Are you wet for me, Arden? Do you want my cock buried so deeply inside your body that you scream from the pleasure of it? I know I do. I’ve thought of nothing else.”
Her painfully empty inner walls tightened and released, and she moaned louder, wiggling her bottom. Wolfe thrust into her mouth, creating another kind of torture. She dug her fingers into the sheets, fisting them tightly. The head of his cock swelled, becoming wider and longer, and Wolfe’s hand released her jaw as his fingers slid free from her hair.
“That was nice, t’keeira. One day soon, I’ll let you finish me that way. Would you like that?”
She purred against his flesh, attempting to please him with greedy sucks of her mouth. He moved away from her tongue until his length slid free from her lips. His voice was unsteady, vowels slurred and rumbling. “Not tonight. The heat won’t pass until I lock inside you.” His hands slid beneath her arms, guiding her onto her back. “It’s my turn.”
He shoved her into the pillows, placed her feet over his shoulders, and slid down until his face was directly between her thighs. He gazed past her sex and met her dazed eyes. “When you come, my name had better be on your lips.”
Those dazzling green eyes, unrepentant and demanding, never veered away from her face as his tongue darted out and flicked the sensitive nub at the top of her sex. Her eyes slid closed and she shuddered, gasping for breath.
“You’re as sweet as honey,” he growled against her sensitized flesh. His fingers parted the outer lips, revealing her entirely. She felt the warmth of his breath and the coolness of the air when he pulled away.
“Wolfe,” she moaned, shifting her hips, wanting more.
“Do you want to come, t’keeira?” The thought echoed through her ears as if he’d spoken it. But she wasn’t telepathic, had never been.
Mindless, she asked, “How?”
“We are connecting to one another, cher. Soon, you’ll know everything about me—my past, my present, and our future. Open your mind and your heart, give yourself over to me.”
His tongue slid into the moist depths of her core, driving her mad with need. Images of Wolfe sliding into her from behind, of his teeth lodged in her shoulder, and of him pinning her down combined with whispered promises in her mind. He would be as rough as he was easy, as demanding as he was giving.
“I want you like this, Arden, helpless and completely open to me. I want you to trust me enough to do whatever I wish. Do you trust me not to harm you?”
“Yes,” she thought in response, unable to speak.
The deep laps of his tongue quickened and he slid two fingers into her, scissored them, and pressed against the spasming inner walls of her core. She cried out at the fullness, panting pitifully.
“Please, Wolfe.”
You’re so tight, like a hot satin vise. I don’t want to hurt you. I have to make sure you’re ready.
She lifted her hips to meet each stroke of his fingers. “I am.”
He continued to tease her with his tongue, focusing on the area just below that most sensitive part of her sex that would grant her release. As his fingers turned and contorted, brushing against that sweet spot that caused her to quiver, she mewed and twisted on the pillows. She was so close. All she needed was
that one last act to send her over.
“Is this what you need?”
His lips settled over her clitoris, suckling the small bud into his mouth.
She screamed his name as she came, swamped by the sheer joy of it. There was no bloodlust to taint the feeling, no need to take more than he was willing to give. She exalted in the release that felt as if it carried her quivering body from the mattress and into the ceiling. When the glorious sensations ebbed, she sagged onto the pillows, breathing heavily.
The relief she experienced upon the realization she never once wanted to drink during climax was substantial. She could enjoy this part of a relationship with Wolfe without marring it with her deplorable need for blood.
