Threatening.
Untamed.
Chilled, a shiver rippled over her skin as a faint sense of foreboding hovered on the edge of her consciousness.
"Are you okay?" Jennifer touched her on the knee to get her attention.
"I'm fine," Erihn whispered. She cleared her throat. "I think I need more champagne."
Vivian leaned forward and reached for the bottle. "I'm with you sister."
She moved like a cat, dainty, her feet barely touching the floor.
Fayne leaned against the bar, his pint of Scottish ale forgotten beside him. Through the doorway into the coffeehouse portion of The Brew House, he watched her as she wove her way around the tables filled with chatting patrons. She was headed toward the stage at the far end of the room.
Her hair was long and loose, ending just below her backside. The dark color was nondescript in the low lighting. Unbound, it obscured her profile as she paused to speak to the announcer. Gesturing at the stage, she nodded, and Fayne caught a glimpse of the pale oval of her face and shadowed eyes.
Dressed in a long skirt the color of dirt and an enveloping cream-colored shirt, she was as diametrically opposed to the other women in their barely- there summer dresses as chalk was to cheese. Covered from head to toe with her modest, enveloping clothes and long, shaggy hair, she looked as if she were trying to hide from something. Or someone.
She was an enigma.
Fayne smiled. He loved puzzles. Curiosity had certainly almost killed this cat a time or two, but that didn't stop him from his favored pastime. Puzzles drove him mad and women were his favorite riddle. He reveled in their femininity, their scent, and their sensuality. Basked in the hidden mysteries of their shapely limbs and secretive eyes. Overdosed on their voices and wrapped himself in their beauty while rejoicing in their strength.
In short, he loved women.
His eyes narrowed as the woman stepped onto the stage. She reached to adjust the microphone, her slender fingers curled around the base as she raised it to the correct level. She pushed her hair back with her left hand, allowing him a glimpse of her profile. Dark brows, a lovely cheekbone and a slightly snubbed nose. She glanced to her left and smiled at her friends as they jostled for better viewing positions on the low-slung couch and chairs. A shy smile curved her mouth as a gentle blush swept her skin. She ducked her head as if embarrassed.
Something dark stirred in him, gently nudging the leash of his willpower. The moon was waxing and the urge to mate was growing stronger. It'd been over ten months since he had last mated and the demands of the approaching full moon were taking a toll on his peace of mind.
After the debacle with the vampire Mikhail during winter solstice last year, Fayne's life had been taken over by the unexpected inclusion of a six- year-old mortal child. He smiled at the thought of his son, Max. Few things were more important to a were-cat than physical gratification and their own creature comforts, but his son was definitely one of them. Max came first with him. Period. End of story.
But, while he loved Max dearly and would sacrifice anything for him, for the next few weeks Fayne was free to do as he pleased. Max was off with Bliss in South America on an archeological dig and having the time of his life.
With Max well taken care of, Fayne had other pressing matters to attend to. There were only a few more days until the full moon and time was growing short. He glanced at the assembled women sitting with Shai and Jennifer.
To Shai's right sat a stunning brunette with red claws. His eyes narrowed. She was lovely, but there was something brittle about her. Across from her sat Melanie Reynolds, the movie actress. She wore a barely-there pink leather dress that she was in serious danger of falling out of. Too overblown and very married; two things he avoided.
There was something to be said about subtlety. As he'd prowled through the years, Fayne realized that he appreciated the subtle woman. The woman who lightly dabbed perfume on the back of her knees rather than bathing in it. The woman who wore high-collared shirts and demure lace bras rather than crotch-less panties and garter belts. He much preferred women who didn't shout their femininity as much as they accentuated it.
The women most men would overlook intrigued him. The shy ones who didn't command center stage. The ones who looked away rather than returning his gaze boldly. They all had their stories to tell; their darkness and their light.
He lived to ferret out their secrets.
Fayne returned his gaze to the woman on the stage. This beautiful little wren wasn't so much understating her sexuality as being completely unaware of it. She'd buried it beneath layers of ill-fitting clothing and long, heavy hair. He could change all that. He could make her more aware of her sexuality than she'd ever dreamed.
He glanced back to the overblown blonde and her brittle friend. No, he'd found his mate. He smiled as he turned his attentions back to the woman on the stage. She'd do perfectly.
It was time for the cat to prowl.
Erihn released her grip on the microphone. The amount of champagne she'd imbibed made the room fuzzy and indistinct. She blinked. Vivian was right. It was much easier to get up here when she couldn't see more than a foot in front of her. She grinned and ducked her head to prevent an undignified snort of laughter.
The announcer spoke. "Our next poet's name is Erihn, and her poem is entitled, 'The Cat.' "
Polite applause broke out as the lights dimmed, leaving her in a pinpoint spotlight of pale violet. The only other light in the room came from the candles on the tables and track lighting along the old brick walls. Through the doorway, she could see into the bar section of The Brew House. A tall, broad figure lounged against the bar next to Val. She caught a glimpse of dark eyes in a strong, chiseled face before a shriek startled her, ripping her gaze away.
"You GO, Erihn," Vivian bellowed.
Erihn's cheeks heated and she looked down at the stage floor, avoiding the curious gazes of the bar inhabitants. She took a deep breath to steady herself, exhaling slowly, then she began.
Full moon rising, I strain my ears to hear,
Sounds that feed the growing hunger of my fear.
Anticipation building pictures in my head.
She shifted her gaze off the stage to the main floor as she spoke. Inexorably, she began tracing a path up the narrow aisle which led into the bar, skimming over the shoes and ankles of their owners.
Through dark shadows, eyes that seek to see,
Signs of legend's mystic entity.
A pair of black boots moved into the center of the doorway, halting her journey. Slowly, her gaze traveled from the tips of the boots to tight black jeans that covered a pair of strong calves and lovingly cupped muscular thighs.
Emerging from the dream-time canopy,
An awesome figure, challenging my sanity.
Her gaze skimmed over narrow hips, consciously avoiding his fly and the mysteries contained there. He wore a black silk dress shirt and the only word that came to mind was "big" as she scanned the breadth of his shoulders and massive chest.
Prowling softly on his catlike feet,
A strong, tanned throat and a square jaw, full lips that looked incredibly soft and a sharp nose. High cheekbones gave the sculptured face an aristocratic air. But it wasn't his face as much as his eyes that drew her attention.
They were the most exotic shade of violet she'd ever seen and they were staring right at her.
Eyes glowing with a deep violet heat.
Erihn's breath caught in her throat forcing her to pause. She averted her gaze from those hypnotic eyes down to the knees of his jeans. Dazed, the words tumbled from her lips as if someone else spoke them.
Night light shining in a sky black mist,
Emits a call I am unable to resist.
A slow, tingling of awareness began in her stomach.
Feelings deep within begin to take control,
A dormant essence of my hidden soul.
The jeans began to move toward the stage. Slow graceful movements
like those of a big jungle cat, each step deliberate, cautious. Erihn kept her gaze at knee height as he moved toward her, the words continuing to tumble from her numb lips.
My footsteps drag me from my sanctuary,
To cross the borders of banality.
Into the domain of his feral lair,
I tremble at the danger in the air.
The boots reached the edge of the stage, then paused, one lifting, settling on the edge just to the right of the microphone. Awareness unfurled and extended through her limbs, heating her blood. She trembled at the onslaught.
Our figures meet, your presence takes command,
A big hand moved into her line of vision, reaching for hers. Her breath caught.
As silky fingers circumfuse my hand.
She unclenched her fist, opening it to accept his touch.
I hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears,
A culmination of a lifetime of fears.
Strong fingers, lightly callused, clasped her hand as shivers rippled up her arm, then expanded through her body.
My body feels as though on fire,
Filled to eruption with a strange desire.
He leapt onto the stage, startling her. Her gaze shifted from his boots to his handsome face with those fathomless eyes. He towered over her, yet, curiously, she felt no fear. He mesmerized her with his violet gaze as he linked an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She was intensely aware of his heat as her body brushed his. Releasing her wrist, he captured the back of her neck, angling her head for his kiss.
Your lips meet mine and I am lost - my inhibitions flown.
His head dipped.
No turning back - no backing down - the seeds of passion sown.
His lips brushed hers, the faintest of touches.
My being reels, my blood congeals, you claw into my mind.
His lips touched hers again, and Erihn's left hand raised of its own volition to fist in the silk of his shirt. A soft protest escaped her as he pulled away, her gaze fastened on his lips.
You open a secret place I thought I'd never find.
She released her grip on his shirt. Sliding her hands up, she slipped them past his open collar and cupped her palms around the warmth of his neck. Gently, she tugged his mouth back to hers.
Now the moment is at hand I surrender to this urge...
Heat shafted through her body as she raised to her tiptoes, pressing her herself against him. His lips were warm and soft. A sigh escaped her as he deepened the kiss, his tongue teasing her lips, gently coaxing, then demanding entry. Her lips parted and she took him deep. The taste of him, darkly erotic, sinful, rocketed through her. A whimper caught in her throat. She was Eve to his Adam and she hungered for more of the forbidden fruit.
Thunderous applause startled Erihn from the sensual darkness she'd entered. With a gasp, she broke the kiss, her shocked gaze meeting his heated one. She could taste him in her mouth, on her lips, and her body screamed for more.
"Erihn," Vivian bellowed. "Can I have him when you're done?"
Stunned, Erihn pushed her way out of his arms and turned to gape at her friends. Too late, she realized her mistake. One hand released her neck and brushed her hair away from her cheek. A finger traced the scar that emerged from her hairline just above her ear to slash down through her cheek to her jaw, then along her jaw to the corner of her mouth.
The signature of a madman.
Horrified, she jerked from his touch, her breath coming in shallow pants. She risked a glance at the handsome face of the man who'd kissed her so completely. Shadowed eyes stared at her, his expression hard. A low, almost feral growl sounded from those perfectly sculpted lips.
Shocked, she dropped her gaze and stared hard at his throat.
One perfect kiss.
She couldn't look at him, couldn't risk finding revulsion and pity in those miraculous eyes. Panic set in, tearing her composure. She darted to the left as the stranger reached for her again and jumped off the stage. Whispers broke behind her as she ran up the aisle and out of the coffeehouse, desperate to escape her imperfection.
* * *
About The Author
J.C. Wilder lives in Westerville, Ohio where she's owned by a Japanese Akita named Severena and a really obnoxious Jack Russell Terrier named Copper Penny. She spends the majority of her time dusting her 6,000 books and staring at her blank computer screen in complete terror.
After six years working for CompuServe Inc., she's working as a Business Analyst for the State of Ohio. When not writing, she devotes much of her time to studying the medicinal uses of herbs and essential oils and howling at the moon.
You can write to her at [email protected] or visit her webpage at http://www.jcwilder.com.
* * *
Publisher info:
Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears,
Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks
www.ltdbooks.com
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
One With The Hunger
Shameless
About The Author
Publisher info:
Wilder, J. C. - Shadow Dweller 2 Page 20
