by Elle Thorne
And failed.
“I have to go. I have to get cover.”
“From?”
“The moon.” She forced the words out with an exhale. She’d never confessed to this before. Not since it happened to her. Not since it had become a part of her life. Not to a single soul.
“Fine. Let’s do that.”
“You won’t leave?”
He shook his head. Even in the dimness she could see those features. She’d memorized his every characteristic. The full lips. The dark eyes. The highset cheekbones. The way his mouth curled when he smiled. The way his wolf’s amber light shone through when he was feeling the thrall of passion.
God, why haven’t I been able to get him out of my mind?
He was watching her. His dark eyes seeking answers.
She turned her gaze away. She couldn’t have him seeing the responses to the unspoken questions. She asked again, “You won’t leave?”
He put his hand on hers, making her look up, then said. “Only to get supplies to help you get cleaned up.”
“I have stuff.” She started toward her bag, glancing behind to see if he really followed.
Pissed that he was.
Happy as hell, at the same time.
He gave her a look.
I thought I’d never see him again.
Her pulse raced, though she fought to control it. And deep in her mind and in her chest, her tigress made a series of low chuffing sounds that Valencia hadn’t heard in a long time.
Chapter Six
Rory followed her to a tree. A length of chain, thick and shiny surrounded the trunk. Next to it the bag she’d been carrying, half the contents spread on the ground, half peeking from within. He studied the articles. Length of chain, tape, thick, dark blanket, clothing.
She was prepared.
For what?
“Valencia.” She looked at him, a curious gleam in her eyes.
Was that because he’d said her name? Because he knew it? Of course he knew it now, he’d been around her family. Or was it because he’d never said it before?
Because until today, he never knew the name of the woman he’d met and spent countless hours with, all of it online.
“Would you rather I call you by your screen name, Tigress4Ever?”
A small smile curved her lip upward.
God, he wanted to kiss her.
He’d need to get her cleaned up. It wouldn’t bode well to have anyone see her like this. He licked the pad of his thumb and ran it over her chin, clearing some blood.
“I have something better.” She knelt and removed an item from the bag.
“Baby wipes?”
“They work, don’t make fun of me.” She popped the top open and the air filled with the aroma of the perfumed wipes. Pulling one from the canister, she handed it to him. “Help me out? I don’t have a mirror.”
He took the damp cloth and began slow, methodical swipes on her chin, then moving to the rest of her face. When all traces of blood were gone, he let the wipe drift to the ground, his fingers still touching her, cupping her jaw.
He was torn with a dichotomy of emotions. Lust reigned, yet countered by the desire to have this woman as his forever.
Love.
Fuck, he didn’t want to say that word. Hell, he didn’t even want to think it.
I don’t do love.
His wolf snarled at his miserable declaration.
Shut up, Rory snarled back.
“I’m Rory,” he said, because she didn’t know him as anything other than WickedWolf.
Half a year ago…
Life had sucked. It wasn’t that he had PTSD so much as that humanity—and shifters, had disappointed Rory. He was sick of seeing death. Sick of war. So when he came home from the service, he isolated himself.
Rory had heard there was a dating site online for shifters… and other types. But other types didn’t interest him. Then again, neither did shifters. Or romance. He had no interest in meeting women. But he was alone, and wanted to talk to someone. Anyone.
Rory had wanted to serve his country more than he’d wanted anything else. Reese had no interest in the military, finding solace in his cabin in the Texas hill country.
So Rory had served. Served until he’d found he had to get out or he’d make it personal.
But he was all kinds of fucked up when he got home. He wanted nothing to do with people or shifters.
It wasn’t advertised, you couldn’t troll it, or find it by accident. You had to have a verifiable account and identity, but it remained private to the admins of site.
Each individual could determine if they wanted to exchange personal information or even meet. He’d logged onto the Mystic Connection website. Known as MysticConn by those in the know. He’d made his profile semi-private, but never put his name or location.
He’d run into Tigress4Ever on the third day. Shortly after that, he made his profile private. He noticed hers became the same. Neither of them were open to meeting anyone else. He’d shared his deepest darkest secrets with her.
What the war did to his soul.
What the killing did to him.
How he’d never wanted to see or be around another living being for the longest time.
He’d been WickedWolf.
Valencia was Tigress4Ever.
That was then, this was now.
Chapter Seven
Yeah, this is definitely now…
“Rory.” The way she said his name gave him reactions. Fuck, her damned voice was like an aphrodisiac. Some of the reactions he hoped she wouldn’t see. It always had been. But now, not distorted by a microphone over a computer…
Yeah, his cock twitched and strained against his pants.
That was the other problem. The sexual attraction between them had been explosive from the very start. It was downright combustible.
“Rory what?” she asked.
“Rory Nielsen, of Houston.”
“And you were at Arceneaux Point…” She was clearly looking for elaboration.
“We were invited by Lézare—my brother and I.”
“Twins.”
He nodded.
“Did I see my sister with your brother?”
She didn’t miss much, did she? “Before you left like a bat out of hell?” A smile crept to his face at the memory of the way she’d jumped in the car. “Yeah. My brother and your sister.”
He couldn’t elaborate more on that. Hell, he followed her and never got the details on how Reese and Alexa ended up together.
She released a growl, then a low scream, looked down at her leg, and started to squirm.
A sliver of moonlight was shining on the dark denim.
“The blanket.” She managed the words in a hiss of pain.
He grabbed a thick navy cover and flapped it open, then draped it over her. “Tell me what’s going on?”
Her eyes glowed red under the wool. “No. I can’t.” Her voice had a hollow quality.
“Valencia. You need to tell me what's going on. After everything we've been through, don’t you think you can trust me now?”
“That was then.”
“Just because I was then doesn't mean anything has changed, not for me.”
“I can't.”
“Fine, then tell me why you decided to vanish.”
“I can't tell you that either. It's tied into this.”
“Bullshit.”
Rory stood and walked away from the blanket. He squared his shoulders. This woman was tough. He picked up two sturdy branches and used them to make a tent out of the blanket.
“What are you doing.” Her voice was shaky.
“I'm making you a blanket lean-to. Giving you cover from the moon.”
She looked at him, but he couldn't read the expression in her eyes.
“The only beings I know affected by the moon are vampires.”
She gasped.
Really? “Is that it? Are you part vampire?”
Her eyes narrowed.
“That is it.” He’d been around her long enough to know her expressions, even if it was via a webcam and a headset.
How could I not have noticed? “How can that be? How did I not know?”
“My home was light-proofed. I never went out at night. Barely went out during the day. It happened just before I met you. I was attacked. I came home for the weekend and foolishly went into an area I had no business being in.”
“So now you are part vampire?”
She shook her head vehemently. “No. But there was bloodshare.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I have certain characteristics of theirs. It's the reason I don't go out. It’s the reason I was on MysticConn.”
“MysticConn is a dating site. It’s a place to get to know someone and then take it to the next level and meet in person.”
She turned angry, hurt eyes in his direction. “Oh yeah, then why were we on for months and months and you never told me where you were from? Or your name? And you never asked to meet in person.”
I was working up to it. I wanted to.
Fuck, did he ever. But he couldn’t tell her that. Every damned time he thought he’d worked up the courage to ask her to take it offline, he froze.
Now what was he supposed to say?
—I know, but I wanted to?
—I’m sorry?
Yeah, he had no clue what to say to that.
“So this vampire thing—”
“Fuck you, Rory Nielsen. I’m not a fucking vampire. I hate vampires. I have this damned curse. And I hate it.”
“Why haven’t you… couldn’t you… is there anything that could be done about it?”
She exhaled in a large whoosh. “I would’ve had to tell someone about it.”
“Now you have. Let me help.”
“You can’t. I don’t even know who could.”
“This is probably the last thing in the world you want to hear, but have you thought about talking to Lézare? He seems well-connected.”
She shook her head.
“Who were those guys?” He indicated toward the clearing with the two dead bodies. He’d have to get those gone before anyone—human or shifter—ran across them. “What did they want?”
“I don’t know. They were taking me to someone called Scanlon.”
Scanlon—that name meant something to him. He’d done his own fair share of research into the underground fighting ring, something Reese didn’t know. Rory was pretty certain Scanlon was the guy who organized the fights.
Those bastards were on Lézare’s territory seeking victims. They’d been in Dallas, and Houston, and now New Orleans.
Damn. I need to tell Lézare, Reese, and Vax about this.
But not now.
Right now, he finally had her back in his life. He’d never tell her the lengths he’d already gone to in order to find her. He was prepared to go farther to keep her in his life.
This meeting wasn’t an accident. It was fated.
“Tell me something. Why did you vanish?”
Her eyes widened. Her delicious lips parted, as though she had an answer at the ready.
Then she drew them into a thin line, and her face became a fortress.
Chapter Eight
I vanished because I was falling for you.
Hard.
She couldn’t tell him that.
Valencia looked at the man in front of her. A man she had spent a lot of time getting to know on way too many levels over the Internet. They’d become so very close. She didn't want to admit it, but he was her best friend at the time.
Okay, truthfully he was a lot more than that. He became her lover. Or as much a lover as she could have considering they were separated by cyberspace. A heat flushed through her body, remembering the moments they’d shared on the cam.
She pushed the memories back, buried them before her pheromones would give her away. God knew, the bloodlust had taken away her scent. She’d become just like a vampire, yielding no scent.
It was like being on permanent hunter’s block. Except she hadn’t really tested it when her body reacted to being sexually excited. How could she? She never met Rory in person, and no other man had the same effect on her.
He’s waiting for an answer. I better come up with a reply.
Something.
Like right now.
But she couldn’t think anything viable. And she didn’t want to lie. She also had no intention of telling him the truth.
“Something came up.”
My feelings for you.
Hell no. Not saying that.
Rory’s jaw tightened, the muscles flexing beneath his fair skin. His wolf glowed golden yellow in the deepest recesses of his eyes.
The memories she’d been trying to bury shot to the forefront of her mind.
That expression, the way his eyes flashed, and jaw tightened. It brought back the memory…
A few months ago …
Valencia logged on to MysticConn, checking the cam to be sure her lip gloss was just right, hoping the webcam didn’t add the ten pounds they said cameras and video did.
Ten pounds is a drop in a bucket for me.
She’d always struggled with her curves. Then she’d grown to love them. Now she was back on the rollercoaster of loving—hating her exaggerated hourglass figure.
I don’t know why I’m tripping like this. Rory said he loves my body.
He had. He’d said that from the beginning. She blew a breath out and waited for him to log on. She was early. She was often early. It wasn’t like she ever went out. She could be online 24-7 since she worked on the computer as a blogger. She’d secured that position right after the incident that turned her into a hermit.
Valencia thought of that night in the swamp. She’d been stupid and impulsive. Probably a bit impetuous too, rebelling against Lézare bossing her around and telling her not to take the shortcut to their friend’s home.
Like who could harm a shifter, she remembered thinking.
She learned vampires could harm a shifter. Damn, did she ever learn.
And she’d exchanged blood with one during a scuffle.
Days later, she was in the throes of the bloodlust, seeking to indiscriminately kill every time the moon’s light touched her.
She determined the best way to deal with it was to stay indoors. So she did. Maybe she could have gone out during the day, but she was afraid the no-scent thing would attract the attention of other shifters. Including her family. She avoided them too.
My life has become so messed up.
Rory was the only salvation she had.
Rory’s icon, a grayish brown wolf with the screen name WickedWolf, lit up.
Her body reacted to seeing his icon immediately, even if it was only online. A hotness rushed through her. Heated moisture pooled at her core. Muscles began an instant flexing, and right at the very center of her pleasure spot, a pulsing began.
Her breath was shallow. Her blood sang with pleasure at his presence.
Talking to Rory did this to her.
Every. Damned. Time.
Except they did more than talk.
A whole lot more.
Valencia was no virgin when she met Rory. She thought she knew what desire was. Thing is, from the moment they started to type, there was this connection she couldn’t deny. A connection that made her pulse race and shallowed her breathing while her body’s yearning for the man surged.
She’d never experienced this level of desire for another man.
What makes this worse—I’ve never even seen or touched him.
True. They hadn’t touched. Their sex was limited to what each of them could offer and show via a webcam.
They’d been talking online for six months, maybe more. The first time they’d taken it to the next level had been a shock to Valencia.
If someone had told her she’d have found any sexual satisfaction with a man while touching herself for him via the Internet, s
he’d have laughed.
That was before I met Rory.
Their transition to intimacy was natural, even more natural than any relationship she’d been in. They’d been having sex on the computer for weeks. She thought of the first time, how nervous she’d been. How she wished alcohol had an effect on shifters because, damn, she needed something to take the edge off.
That seemed like forever ago.
Now here she was, waiting for him to log on. Her hair done, her outfit picked out just for him.
As if we are on a real date.
She had to take what she could get. She didn’t have the luxury to get out of the house and go on a normal date.
But Rory, he didn’t have the problems she had, so it baffled her. Why was this hunk of a man, this handsome example of sex on a stick, online with her?
Why wasn’t he dating?
Attached?
Something…
Valencia didn’t get it. But she was beyond thrilled. She didn’t want to admit how much their nightly visits had come to mean to her.
She glanced in the mirror she’d hung next to the computer monitor, just in case.
Hair. Check.
Makeup. Check.
Finally, his icon lit up. A banner flashed on the bottom of her screen.
WickedWolf has signed on.
She didn’t need the banner to tell her that, her pulse let her know immediately, pounding in her veins.
WickedWolf: Hey sexy
Tigress4Ever: Hi
WickedWolf: Can you talk
When have I not been able to talk? She was always alone at her apartment. She had nothing that interrupted her solitary existence except her moments with him.
A deluge pushed through her body at the idea of talking to him, at the thought of his voice, coming through the Internet, sexy, deep, getting deeper and hoarser as he became more turned on.
Vibrations pulsed through her, anticipation of what was to come. What always came.
Tigress4Ever: I can. Headsets?
She didn’t want to tell him she already had her Bluetooth headset on. Of course she did. They talked every night. They did other things some nights, but they always talked.
