by Leia Shaw
She stared at his outstretched hand. “I’m not a man.”
“It’s a figure of speech. It means everyone needs friends. No one should spend a lifetime alone.”
“That’s the werewolf way. Not so for vampires.”
“You have covens.”
“Some.”
“Not you?”
“Not me.”
He grabbed her hand before she could dodge him and held it tight when she tried to pull away. His fingers slid up her bare arm. It tingled. She stared at the goose bumps it left behind.
“Don’t you miss being touched?” His breath whispered across her cheek. “Don’t you miss the gentle feel of skin on yours?” He bent his head, his goatee rubbed against her cheek.
She stopped breathing. He was so warm she could have melted into a puddle on the floor. Her eyes fluttered closed. She did miss being touched.
“A simple touch from a friend is like water to a drying lotus. It quenches its thirst, imparting fortitude to weather the storms.”
Her eyes flew open and she looked up at him. “That’s bullshit. Where’d you hear that?”
“One of the greatest bearers of wisdom in our day.” He bent down to her ear and after a dramatic pause, he whispered, “Chinese fortune cookie.”
She exhaled one, small chuckle.
Cristian leaned back with a proud smirk. “Got you, didn’t I?”
Before she could pull away he wrapped an arm around her waist and tugged her flush up against his body. Her whole body tingled with warmth. Then he kissed her. Gently, but she knew from their previous encounter he was holding back. And damn her traitorous lips for moving with his.
He pulled away and with his lips at her ear, he rasped, “I’m going to crack that shell of yours, puiule. I’m going to mess up your compartmentalized little world. Best be prepared, ‘cause when I’m through with you, you’ll never be the same.”
She gaped as he picked up his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and sauntered out the cabin door. From outside she heard, “Time’s wasting. Move your ass, vampire.”
Chapter 11
Cristian spent the first hour of their three hour journey north attempting conversation. Natalia skillfully avoided it. He was quick to point out she still owed him another kiss. She had no idea werewolves were so relentless. If he took too many kisses like the one in the cabin, she could get addicted.
Talking to him was unsettling, thinking about him was worse. She played with the radio instead, switching stations as the reception went in and out. Just before dawn, Cristian reached over and turned it off.
More conversation? Eighties one-hit-wonders had been playing for the last forty five minutes. She sighed. Conversation sounded downright heavenly.
“We need to make a plan,” the werewolf declared, pulling off the main road and onto a sparsely inhabited side road.
“Plan is, we kill the Slayer. What’s complicated about it?”
He tore his gaze from the road to cast her an irritated glare. “We need a better plan. First off, we need to do something about your inability to hunt during the day.”
“Hunt at night, like I’ve always done.”
“Have you thought about buying a daylight potion from the witches?”
She had. Witches and sorcerers could make an elixir that counteracted the effects the sun had on vampires. But what was the point? She could hunt as easily at night as in daylight. Besides, the potion was overpriced and tasted like shit. “You’re trying to take over. What happened to containing your manly urges?”
He shifted in his seat and muttered, “You have no idea the urges I’m containing, woman.”
She glared at him. “First you tried to alpha my ass in the cabin –”
“Alpha your ass?”
“Now you’re telling me how to go about my hunt? I’ve been doing this a long time, Cristian. If you insist on tagging along, that’s fine, but your big, bad alpha status gets you nowhere with me.”
He chuckled, which made her glare harder. “You need to work on your people skills.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. “As much as I’d love to ‘alpha your ass’ – whatever that means – it’s clear that won’t work with you. So we’ll just have to compromise. It’ll be difficult for both of us, but I can put aside my pride to catch this sadistic bastard and spare more children’s lives. Can you?”
She narrowed her eyes. Devious werewolf, using her concern for children against her. He knew exactly what buttons to push. “What happened to, ‘being alpha isn’t just what I do, it’s who I am’?”
“I’ll try to have patience with your issues, if you’ll have patience with mine.”
She scoffed. “My issues?”
He tossed her a look of amusement. “You keep people at a distance to maintain your aloofness. For some reason, you don’t want to feel.”
Her face flushed and she turned to stare out the window.
“Someone must’ve hurt you pretty bad for you to shut everything off. To isolate yourself so much that killing in cold blood comes easily for you.” He paused. The silence dragged on and she squirmed in her seat. “Makes me wonder what happened to you. More importantly, makes me wish you’d seek healing.”
The sound of her hard swallow filled the silent car. When did it get so hot and stuffy in here? And Cristian took up far too much space. She rubbed her hands on her thighs and shut her eyes, pushing the strange sensations away. Focus, Natalia. You’re the Huntress. You don’t let sneaky werewolves shake you up like this. Focus!
A warm hand fell onto hers. “I’ll accept where you’re at. For now. But you should know, I’m not like other people. I see you.”
She bit back a groan as her stomach churned. The thought of his creepy eyes piercing through her shields to her very soul made her shudder.
He gave her hand a squeeze. “Anyway, tell me what you’ve done till now. How do you track the Slayer?”
Yes, now they were back in her terrain. In her comfort zone, where she belonged. She could breathe again.
The hunt had started in Louisiana just over a year ago. If she never saw the bayou again it would be too soon. The bodies had been explained by gator attacks – ignorant tourists getting too close while taking pictures. Eventually they’d caught and killed a fourteen footer they thought responsible for the attacks. That was when the Slayer had moved on. The missing children hadn’t started until Colorado. He was escalating. “He has a signature. Animal attacks and missing children. I stop in the larger cities to read the newspapers. I visit the bars in the smaller towns. There’s always talk. I just follow the stories. From there, I use my nose.”
He nodded. “What does he look like?”
She thought for a moment. Probably like a movie star, but Natalia wasn’t interested in pop culture so there wasn’t anyone she could compare him to. “He was...beautiful.”
His chiseled features matched his impeccably designed suit. Dark skin blended into the shadows of the night making his perfect white teeth shine. Deep brown eyes pierced through her. His hair was as black as –
A pair of fingers snapped in her face. “Eyes on the prize, woman. The Slayer isn’t an appropriate object for your fantasies.”
No, he wasn’t. But a certain blonde-haired, ruggedly handsome werewolf was. She shook that absurd thought from her head. “He’s very powerful. He must be old.”
He arched a brow. “Older than you?”
Maybe. “No.”
“And how old are you?”
She considered not answering. But was it really any secret? And he’d already proven his loyalty. Maybe he really was on her side. A disturbing thought.
“Natalia.” His voice, low and steady, pulled her gaze to him. “It’s just your age. Not your social security number.”
Not that she had one of those. “I was born in the eleven hundreds.”
“You’re over eight hundred years old?”
“Yes, and you know what they say – wisdom comes with age. Therefore
, we do things my way.”
He narrowed his eyes. “How do you know you’re older?”
“Please,” she snorted. “I’ll bet you’re no older than four hundred.”
He was silent, his gaze fixed on the road.
Not much to say now, huh? “Well?”
“I’m four hundred and eleven.” He jumped to defend himself before she could say a word. “But I’ve been an alpha for over two hundred years. That makes me more experienced in leadership. Therefore, we do things my way.”
Sneaky werewolf. She almost smiled. But arguing with an alpha was useless. Actions mattered. And when it came down to it, she’d do anything to stop the Slayer. Stubborn werewolf or no.
“How did he catch you this time?”
“Your wolf disguised his scent.” Mentally she berated herself, again, for her carelessness.
“Did you kill the wolf?”
She nodded. “But it would’ve died anyway. I just made it quick.”
“And you didn’t drink its blood?”
“Of course not.” She left out the part about her temptation.
He was so silent she turned to look at him curiously. His eyes stayed focused on the road, but the corners of his mouth lifted in what looked to be an expression of pride. She should’ve kept her mouth shut.
A wave of nausea roiled through her. Dawn was coming.
Cristian looked her over then punched the gas. “Hang on. The motel’s just up the road.” He smirked. “Of course, if you had a daylight potion, this wouldn’t be a problem.”
The nameless two-star motel looked like heaven by the time they pulled into the parking lot. Nauseous but at least able to walk on her own feet, she followed Cristian into the front lobby – if you could call the small room with a desk, grouchy attendant, and bad carpeting a lobby.
“You’re not modest about sharing a room, are you?” he asked after ringing the bell for an attendant.
Yes. But she wouldn’t waste money on something so petty. “No.”
He nodded and paid for the room before she could find the wad of cash stuffed in her boot. “Just so you know,” he said as they searched the hall for the assigned room, “I sleep in the nude.”
***
He didn’t sleep in the nude that night. Like a gentlemen, he gave Natalia the bed and curled up with a pillow on the dingy floor.
Until he could find a daylight potion, and convince the stubborn woman to use it, they were stuck sleeping during the day and hunting at night. It wouldn’t be a hard flip. He’d been up for three nights straight following her trail. He could fall asleep under a noon sky in the Nevada desert. His eyes drifted shut as he considered the day’s events.
He’d been controlling the impulse to grin like a fool since Natalia had told him about the dying wolf. Even knowing it would’ve helped her hunt the Slayer, she hadn’t touched the wolf’s blood. And she’d shown the creature mercy. That was twice now he’d seen her compassion. For all her hardness and ruthless exterior, she wasn’t entirely inhuman. There was a heart in there somewhere, and he was going to find it. If for no other reason than to prove he could. This was by far the most puzzling, intriguing, sometimes frustrating, woman he’d ever met.
She shouldn’t appeal to him. She’s a vampire for Christ sake. It was absurd. Even if he fell in love with her – which was highly unlikely – without a mating scent, his pack would never accept her. He’d have so many dominance challenges he might as well resign as alpha and go rogue.
A future with a vampire was impossible. It was only his wolf nature that wanted to figure her out. He would indulge it. The wolf in him would only claw at him if he didn’t. Maybe he could help her heal. He smiled. Yes, that’s it. She needed to believe in goodness again.
Someone had hurt her; that much was clear. A werewolf? Their world was rife with violence. It wouldn’t be unusual for a woman who’d lived as long as she had to have been victim of violence. She’d said something about a werewolf beating his mate, leaving her to die in front of his pack. Could that have been her? Did she have a mate?
He wasn’t stupid enough to believe he could change her mind about all werewolves. But maybe he could convince her there was one who had some honor left. And he was just the man to do it.
The bed shifted and a long, drawn out sigh sounded from above him. “All right, come on,” Natalia said grudgingly. “Get in the bed.”
Was he dreaming? She pulled the covers back to reveal a fully clothed body and gestured to the empty spot beside her. No, if he were dreaming, she’d have been naked. “Come on,” she repeated. “I won’t bite.”
Why not? he wanted to ask. Instead he climbed into the bed and chuckled quietly when she scooted as far away as she could without falling off. He had the sudden urge to push her.
“Did you feel bad for me, puiule? Did your tender heart bleed to see me suffering on the cold, hard floor?” He grinned into his pillow.
“Invitation revoked,” she said without heat. “Get out of my bed.”
“Too late now. I’m staying.” She kicked him in the back of the knee and he grunted. “Be nice or I’ll come over there and cuddle too. You still owe me a kiss.”
Her answering growl made him laugh out loud.
Chapter 12
“How can you stand it?” Natalia asked, her nose scrunched in disgust. “It doesn’t smell anything like Chinese food.” The offending odor was called General Tsao’s chicken. It was unlikely General Tso Tsung-tang of the Qing dynasty had favored – or even eaten – fried chicken soaked in sickeningly sweet-smelling syrup. Take-out Chinese food was one of the many atrocities that made her glad to be a vampire. It was right up there with tanning beds and sagging breasts.
“And how would you know what real Chinese food smells like?” Cristian asked, popping a piece of chicken in his mouth.
They sat at the small table in the motel room, the six o’clock news filling the background as they half paid attention for clues. Sleep that day had been oddly refreshing, especially considering she’d shared a bed with a werewolf. Not to mention he was a blanket hog. “I spent a few years in the Kunlan Mountains during the seventeenth century. I know what real Chinese food smells like.” She opened one of the cookie packages and sniffed it. “What do they make these out of? Cardboard?”
He grabbed the cookie from her hand. “Miniature life lessons.”
“They make them out of miniature life lessons?”
A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest. “No, you’re likely right about the cardboard. But it’s what’s inside that’s important.” After he broke the cookie apart, he regarded the fortune thoughtfully.
“Well? What’s it say?”
His brows furrowed. “A handsome blonde will enter your life bearing words of wisdom and a big –”
“Head?”
He looked at her. “Not what I was going to say.”
She tried, unsuccessfully, to smother a smile. “Give me that.” She snatched the paper from his hand and read it.
Love is for the lucky and the brave.
“So,” Cristian said, waggling his eyebrows, “feeling lucky?”
She chuckled, wadded up the piece of paper, and threw it at him. He beamed, likely proud he made her laugh. Gods only knew why he was obsessed with it.
“Luck I get,” she said when they’d sat in silence once more. “But why brave?”
He shifted in his seat then sat forward, his gaze piercing through her. “Because, Natalia, love is a risk. Love from the depths of your soul requires a certain amount of sacrifice. It bids you to give yourself wholly to another. To allow someone to view you like a prism, assessing you at every angle, examining every flaw. You must lay yourself before them, open and bare, and say, ‘here I am. I hold nothing back. I am yours, mind, body, and soul.’ And all you can do is hope they don’t crush you.” He leaned closer. “But the man who truly loves you will tend to your heart like he tends a garden, nurturing it until it grows and blooms under his hand.”
She
was on the edge of her seat, her gaze locked on him. Finally, she tore away and fiddled with her hands. Clearing her throat, she forced herself to say, “Well said, Romeo.”
Inside, she soaked up his words. She’d sworn off love. Not just love – affection, fear, hope, everything. Feelings made her vulnerable. Vulnerability made her dead. And what Cristian described was terrifying. Giving yourself wholly to another? Never again.
One word stood out from the rest. Nurture. The word made her feel uncomfortably warm inside. She used to yearn for nurturance. Though some would doubt it, she’d been human once. She’d grown to the ripe age of twenty-nine before she was turned. In the twelfth century, that was downright old. Married to her fierce but warm husband, Marcelo, they’d tried to conceive a child, growing disappointed each year that passed in loneliness. Though the centuries had changed her, she’d been a fierce human too. Marcelo used to call her misteriosa belleza, mysterious beauty. Her father had pushed her to marry above her class but she’d fallen in love with the tall, dark, and charming carpenter. But it all fell apart in just one night.
The first few centuries as a vampire she sought freedom from her barren existence. That was why she’d run from Marcelo, even knowing he’d turned for her. Not only did he willingly turn into a night creature, the very thing he hated, but she heard rumors he’d been searching for her all these years, never losing focus of his goal. For almost eight hundred years she knew this, yet she avoided him time and time again. Shame and regret nagged at her –
She shook her head. Those were thoughts best left locked up in a vault.
Cristian set his empty food containers aside. “Your turn to talk. What made you hate werewolves so much?”
She stared at him, considering whether to answer. Maybe if she told him the ugly truth, he’d understand she could never love another man, especially a werewolf. Maybe his silly crush would end. And maybe he’d finally leave her to hunt alone. “Want the long version or the short one?”
“I want the truth.”
