by Nina Croft
Her brows drew together as though he was speaking a foreign language, then she peered around her as if searching for something. Christ, she had no fucking clue.
Breathing slowly, he tried to calm himself. But his fangs were elongating, and he could sense the darkness rising inside him.
He saw the moment she worked it out. Her eyes widened. She looked from the wolf to him and back. “Really? You’re a werewolf?”
It took Lachlan a second to realize she was talking to the thing.
“Woof.” And it was answering.
“Wow.” She sounded impressed.
He was going to lose it. Any moment now. The wolf must have sensed something similar because with one last disdainful look at Lachlan, it trotted away. Tail wagging.
She watched it go and then turned to look at him, her expression wary. Like she expected him to totally lose his fucking cool because she’d crept out of the castle, where he was supposed to be keeping her safe, to meet up with a goddamn werewolf.
His rage was rising again, and she took a step back. “Did you know that your eyes have gone red. Is that normal?”
“Only when I get really, really angry,” he said. Or when he ate. Or got sexually stimulated. But he wasn’t going there. Though actually, he was already there, his dick hard in his pants.
“I thought you were always angry.” She glanced back to where the wolf had disappeared. “Is he really a werewolf?”
“Clueless,” he muttered to himself. “No wonder they don’t want you back.” He’d asked Darius enough times when he could return her to where she belonged. “You’re a fucking liability.”
A hurt look flashed across her face. And he felt instantly guilty. Something else he couldn’t remember feeling in a long time. Centuries. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He needed to get her safely back to the castle, lock her in that dungeon, and get as far away as he could. “Come,” he said. “I’ll drive you back to the castle.”
“I’m going to the carol service.”
“No. You’re. Not.” He said it slowly, because she was obviously not too bright.
She gritted her teeth, then her eyes narrowed. She dashed past him before he realized what she meant to do. Hauling the big wooden door to the church open, she slipped inside, but then turned to face him. “Don’t vampires spontaneously combust if they go onto holy ground?” she asked. And she disappeared inside.
He stared after her. How could something so small cause so much mayhem?
Did vampires burst into flame in churches? He had no clue—he’d had no urge to test the theory since he’d been changed. General opinion was no. Like garlic and holy water, it was a legend with no basis in fact. But he wasn’t absolutely sure.
What he was, was angry enough to risk it. And part of him had always wanted to know. Was he evil?
Maybe he would spontaneously combust.
Would it matter?
He strode to the door, flung it open and…hesitated. He spotted her on the outside of a pew at the back of the church. As if sensing him, she turned around and blinked, her eyes widening. He stepped inside, every muscle tensing, a band tightening around his chest.
But no flames.
As he strode toward her, all around the church, the candle’s flickered and died. The singing faltered. The place went silent.
He stopped beside her. There was a shuffling and stamping of feet as the congregation turned to see what was happening, then turned back just as quickly.
He held out his hand.
She looked at it, then shoved her own hands in her pockets, but she did edge her way out of the pew and stomp toward the door. He followed. The tightness around his chest loosened as he stepped outside the church.
“Did you know you wouldn’t burn?” she asked.
“No.”
“Are you crazy?” She shook her head, and studied him, her brows drawn together. “That was interesting though. The candle thing.”
He looked down at her. “How do you know it wasn’t you?”
“Me?”
He shrugged. “Everyone knows witches are evil creatures.”
“Hah.” They came to a halt beside the Porsche. “Really? A sports car? In this weather.”
“Get in.”
“Can I drive?” she asked.
He shuddered. “Not a chance in hell.”
“Jesus,” she mumbled not quite under her breath. “Who’s a grumpy vampire?”
He unlocked the doors, and she climbed in. He got in beside her. Then went still. In the closed space, he could smell her blood, sweet and hot. Could hear it pumping in her veins. His gums ached with the need to feed, and he licked his lips. Maybe he could take a little drink and wipe her memory? Except he was in no way sure he could. He knew nothing about witches, except he didn’t trust them. Besides, he sensed a little drink would not be enough.
Control had never been an issue with him, now he found himself struggling, fighting to overcome the need that had been building for two months. Because he hadn’t fed in all that time. Had no urge, except from this one source. That he couldn’t have.
“Are we waiting for something?” she asked.
He gave himself a shake and started the car. It purred to life, and he pulled away. The snow had started to fall again while they were in the church, a thick almost impenetrable curtain of white. He drove quickly, need pushing him on. He’d drop her off and then he’d go feed. There were always willing volunteers who hung around the castle. Any one of them would be more than happy to feed the boss.
“Do you want to slow down?” she asked.
“No.”
He cast her a quick, sideways glance, her hands were grasping the sides of the seat, her fingers white, her face set.
He put his foot on the brake. Turned his attention back to the way ahead. Too late. Something was stretched out across the road. The tires hit, and they were spinning out of control.
Chapter Four
Someone was screaming, and Lola realized it was her. The car skidded as Lachlan fought for control. But they could get no traction on the icy road. They were sliding, huge dark shadowy shapes on either side.
She was going to die. And he wouldn’t because he was already dead. And that was so not fair.
Then everything stopped. A loud bang shattered her ear drums, and something punched her in the face. She couldn’t breathe and panic welled up inside her. Her arms flailed, trying to find a way out.
Beside her, the door was wrenched open, cold air hit her body, as a hand grabbed her arm and dragged her out. She was lying in the snow, flakes landing on her upturned face. Lachlan appeared above her.
“Move,” he shouted.
She shook her head, trying to get her brain to work.
“Move!” Without giving her a second to respond, he hauled her over his shoulder, turned, and—
Behind them the car exploded. They were hurled forward, flying through the air, and crashing into a snowbank. Lachlan landed on top of her, hard, so the air left her lungs in a whoosh.
Once again, she struggled to breathe, and she shoved at him. He didn’t move. Had he passed out? Did vampires pass out? She changed tactics and jabbed him in the side with her finger. He was like rock. Cold, hard, unfeeling rock.
As if she’d ever kiss him under the mistletoe.
If she ever decided to fall in love—and it was a huge if—then it would be with someone…nice. And reliable. Someone she could trust to not dump her the moment things got difficult. Or inconvenient. Or they fell in love with someone else.
An emotionally retarded vampire was the last person she would kiss.
Ever.
She couldn’t believe he’d made that comment about her family not wanting her back. Bastard. She jabbed him again and this time he shifted a little and the pressure eased, and she drew a big breath of air into her lungs.
Somewhere close by the car was burning. The heat of the flames was close enough to play across her skin, and in the flickering light, sh
e could make out his face above her. No expression. But when did he ever have an expression, unless it was angry? She’d never once seen him smile. But then most of the time he avoided her like the plague. She had seen him turn around in mid-stride and head the other way to avoid having to actually interact with her.
So why didn’t he get off her now? She wriggled, getting her hands between them and shoving hard. With no reaction whatsoever. Except maybe a slight flicker of something in his eyes. She stared into his face, so close. In the light from the fire, they glowed…crimson.
She had a funny idea that was not a good sign. Was he really, really angry? Again. But he didn’t look angry. His nostrils flared as though he scented something, and he licked his lips. A shudder ran through her. Not fear, something she wasn’t willing to analyze right then. She tried to slither out from under him, but his lower body pushed against her. Something hard—even harder than the rest of him—pressed against her belly through the layers of clothing.
Not good. Hopefully, just a vampire thing.
Except warmth was pooling in the base of her belly. Maybe she’d caught on fire.
She shifted again, and he growled low in his throat. “Don’t move.”
She went instantly still, for one second, and then she was pushing and shoving and trying to wriggle out from under him, and he wasn’t moving at all, just lying there. An immovable object. Finally, she gave up and lay still, breathing hard.
He closed his eyes, his hips pressing the length of his erection against her, and then his weight was gone, and she was free. She should get up and run or something. Instead, she lay staring up at the sky. After a minute, she rolled her head so she could look at Lachlan. He lay beside her, on his back, eyes still closed. As if sensing her focus, he blinked and sat up.
She did the same.
“You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to eat you.”
“I’m not worried.” And it was true. In a weird way she trusted him. He would keep her safe. Because Darius had asked him to. And Darius was his sire. She knew that much about vampires.
“And I’m not going to rape you.”
“It never even occurred to me.”
Hah. Liar. Seduce her maybe. Not that she was in any way seducible.
“You have a very bad effect on me,” he said.
She did? “I do?”
“Whenever I am near you, I have this urge to fuck you and feed from you. Preferably at the same time.”
The words were spoken totally without emotion and for a moment, they didn’t quite make sense. Then heat washed through her, pooling in her breasts and belly. Which was totally unacceptable. And unprecedented. She was still trying to formulate a response, when he continued, “It’s inconvenient. But that’s all it is. A minor inconvenience. And you need not be worried in my presence. I am in control.”
“Bully, for you,” she muttered under her breath. So, he wanted to fuck her and feed from her, but not that much. She was just an inconvenience. But then hadn’t her sister said the same. Must be true.
She sniffed.
Time to get out of here. It was Christmas Eve, maybe there would be something good on the TV. Take her mind off the fact that she was all alone, had no presents, and no one wanted her. And Lachlan thought she was inconvenient.
Though he did want to fuck her.
Don’t even think about it.
She pushed herself to her feet and stood for a minute, taking stock. But there was no real damage. Only her pride. Inconvenient? Beside her, Lachlan was also on his feet. His long leather coat was open, and she couldn’t resist a quick glance down. She couldn’t see anything interesting. She raised her gaze to find him watching her through narrowed eyes. But at least the red thing seemed to have gone, and they were back to a pure, clear green. Beautiful eyes.
In fact, while she was loath to admit it, he was beautiful all over. All long and lean. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, showing off high cheekbones and firm lips, a big bony nose. He looked young…maybe not much more than her own age. Though she knew that he was hundreds of years old; he must have been young when he was changed.
“You’re staring,” he murmured.
She sniffed and turned away. Beautiful is as beautiful does.
The car was nothing but a smoldering pile of metal, and a shiver ran through her. She could have died. If he hadn’t pulled her out, she would have died. She wasn’t ready to die. Then again, she wouldn’t have even been in the car if he hadn’t come after her. It was his fault.
“You should have let me drive,” she said.
He snorted and moved past her. After circling the car slowly, he walked back to the road and crouched down, examining something on the ground. “Look at this,” he said. “A stinger.”
She moved forward and hunkered down. A strip of metal, with spikes at intervals, was laid across the road. “That’s why we crashed?”
“Yes.”
“Hmm. So someone wants you dead? Why am I not surprised?”
“I’m already dead. It would have been an…”
“Inconvenience?” she suggested. “You have a lot of those in your life, don’t you? Poor thing. It must be hard.”
He ignored her comment. “You, on the other hand, would have been very dead. Had I not saved you. So maybe this”—he waved a hand at the road and the spikes and the burned out car—“was meant for you.”
She frowned. “Why would anyone want me dead?”
He raised an eyebrow, folded his arms across his chest, but didn’t answer.
“Hah.” She might have been dumped by a lot of people in her short life, but she didn’t think anyone actually hated her enough to try and kill her. She was likable. People always liked her. Except for Lachlan.
“Don’t move,” he said, his gaze fixed on something behind her.
God, he was always giving orders. She turned around, peered into the trees. At first she couldn’t see anything. Then something shifted in the shadows. Black on black. Fear unfurled in her stomach. She stared harder and made out eyes glowing in the darkness. A huge black wolf separated from the shadows. All round them, the forest moved. She swallowed as her mouth flooded with saliva. “What the—”
Lachlan grabbed her hand. “Run!”
Chapter Five
Lachlan’s fingers tightened around her small hand and, ignoring her squeak of alarm, he hauled her around and ran.
The wolves were closing in, forming a trap, and he hurled himself forward, dragging Lola behind him. He kept to the road. Out in the open he could move faster than the wolves. In the trees, he would have no chance.
The wolves made no sound as they raced after him, but he could sense them, feel their intent bearing down on him.
So the trap had been for him. And he was an idiot. He should have been on his guard. Except he’d been distracted.
The witch was a weakness. And she was slowing him down. Maybe he should let her go. But he couldn’t leave her.
He’d promised Darius he would keep her safe. That was why. The only reason. Nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t bear the thought of what a pack of werewolves would do to her.
Now he could hear the panting of their breaths. Without slowing, he hauled her over his shoulder and ran faster. Alone, he would have turned and fought. But she was vulnerable. Her small hands clutched at his back, and he held her tighter. And ran.
The snow was still falling, a curtain of white.
If they ever got back to the castle, she was going straight in that dungeon. Then he was going back out, and he was hunting down the wolves. He’d feast on their blood. Maybe there would be a few left alive to join the Council at the end of the night. Right now he didn’t give a—
Something slammed into him from the side, and they crashed to the ground. He was up in a second. Shoving Lola behind him, he drew a pistol in each hand. The night was dark, but he could sense them all around, smell their fetid breath. They circled, fluid, so he couldn’t tell one from the other. So ma
ny. Too many.
It was him they wanted. Maybe he could negotiate a safe passage for her. His life for hers. He shot above their heads as a warning and to let them know he was armed. He’d take as many with him as he could. But if there was any way to save her, he would do it.
Suddenly, they stopped their circling and sat on their haunches as though waiting. But for what? Behind him, Lola gripped onto his coat and pulled herself to her feet, pressing up against him, her breathing fast and ragged. “Are we going to die?” she asked.
“Hopefully not.” He thought for a moment, and right now, he wasn’t too proud to ask for help. “You’re a witch. Can’t you do some sort of spell?” He had no clue what witches did. They were shrouded in mystery. Though it was believed they possessed powerful magic.
“Sorry,” she said. “I don’t know any spells. I haven’t actually learned any yet.”
Great.
He looked around, searching for anything that might give them an advantage, a little cover. A few feet away, a huge boulder stood by the edge of the road. Holding the pistols in front of him, he backed up slowly. The wolves behind him stayed put. He fired a couple of shots over their heads, and they parted. At least Lola would have some protection and they wouldn’t be able to come at her from behind.
A ripple ran through the waiting wolves, and directly in front of him, they parted. A man strode through. All in black, a mask covering half his face, though Lachlan recognized him from the meeting earlier. Now he also wore a sword at his back, the jeweled hilt visible above his left shoulder.
He stopped a couple of feet away. “You care for the wee lassie?” He waved a hand in Lola’s direction. “Drop the guns, and we’ll let her live.”
Lola’s fingers tightened on his coat.
“Shoot me,” the man continued, “and they’ll rip her to pieces before your eyes. There are too many of us.”
The wolves inched closer. The circle around them was three deep. He hadn’t realized the pack was so big. Would he have been more careful if he’d known? Probably not. Perhaps Sean was right, and he had a death wish. If it was only himself, he would have fought. But he couldn’t protect her against so many.
