Slip of Fate (Werelock Evolution Book 1)

by Hettie Ivers

  “The Reinosos, along with many others, fled early on to Brazil in an effort to escape persecution. But the autos-da-fe reached Brazil by the latter part of the century when the Inquisition expanded to include Portugal’s colonies.” His handsome face took on a haunted expression. “All told, the Inquisition lasted nearly three centuries, wiping out entire packs and covens, including most of the original Reinoso coven of mages.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

  He squeezed my hand and gave me his most captivating, lopsided grin. “But Bento’s pack, the new Reinoso clan, survived unscathed because of their unique abilities, particularly Antonio’s talent for mind manipulation and compulsion. I’m pretty sure our bloodline would’ve otherwise ended there if not for the union of Bento and Lucia.”

  “’Course,” he inserted, “it didn’t hurt that Antonio’s first-born child—a devastatingly attractive and supremely gifted male wolf born in 1604, named Alcaeus,” he boasted, wagging his brows as my eyes widened and my mouth split into a grin, “was a natural prankster who had the time of his life fucking with the minds of Inquisitors at all levels and in various countries throughout the latter half of the Inquisition.”

  “No way!” I exclaimed in a childishly awed, breathy whisper. I couldn’t help it. Alcaeus had just become the coolest, most fascinating individual I’d ever conversed with, essentially ascending beyond celebrity status in my eyes for his firsthand knowledge and actual participation in the Inquisition.

  “Way,” he retorted with exaggerated importance, sending me into a fit of blushing, girlish giggles.

  “That’s incredible,” I gushed. “That you did that … that you lived then … and experienced all that.” I babbled on like a fangirl. I couldn’t help but notice he appeared thoroughly amused and distinctly pleased by my sophomoric reaction.

  “As I was saying before,” he resumed with a glowing smile, “most of us believe that vessels are sent by our ancestors, and that they are meant to change the course of our future. Lucia, my grandma, was the last known vessel sent to us,” he revealed seamlessly, “until now.”

  I was shaking my head in denial as the full meaning of his words sank in. After hearing Lucia and Bento’s story, it made perfect sense how Lucia fit Alcaeus’ description of what a vessel was believed to be. At the same time, by way of comparison it made even less sense why anyone would ever think I might fit that description.

  “But I’m not anything special like Lucia,” I disputed. “My DNA holds no value to your kind. What evolutionary leap could possibly be gained from connecting my life to your pack?”

  “I’ve absolutely no clue yet,” Alcaeus admitted with a broad, toothy grin. “But every instinct I’ve honed over four centuries is telling me how precious you are. And I can’t seem to shake this burgeoning compulsion to do whatever is necessary to make you happy and to protect your life at all cost.”

  My breath caught in my throat at the sincerity behind his words. Yet it was madness. He didn’t even know me! None of this was real or made any sense. Hell, I wasn’t even awake!

  “That’s not rational, Alcaeus. I’m not your vessel. I have no way of changing the course of anyone’s future. I don’t even have control over my own,” I griped, feeling a resurgence of resentment and anxiety over my present predicament.

  “Milena, sweetheart, you’re safe and worry-free with me right now, remember?” he placated, his eyes drawing mine into their inviting depths until I felt cocooned in comfort and could scarcely recall what worry felt like. “There we go … much better.” Alcaeus’ adoring smile of approval was like the sun beaming down on me, kissing every part of me with its warmth.

  “As I’ve said, you don’t have to be anything you don’t want to. And whether you’re the vessel or not, you’re about the best smelling little human girl I’ve ever scented. Truthfully,” he confided in a hollow, hungry whisper as his mouth slowly descended to trail languid kisses down the side of my face to my jawline, “it’s beginning to do crazy things to me.”

  I sighed dreamily as his facial growth tickled and awakened every nerve ending in his path. “Mm-mmm,” he hummed as his lips paused over my ear. “Pretty, sweet, sweet Milena,” he chanted. “Do you have any idea how fucking good I would be to you?”

  I was fairly sure that was rhetorical, though not exactly certain what he’d meant, until I felt his words as if they’d stroked through me, their meaning vibrating and settling deftly and unmistakably between my thighs, turning my insides to warm goo.

  “I’d drown you in pleasure,” he rasped, his nose nuzzling mine. “Make you forget all else … erase every pain …” His lips brushed my own. “Every single fear and trouble …”

  My fingers stole around his neck, and my lips parted of their own volition to skim shyly back and forth against his. I was certain I’d never wanted to be kissed so badly in all my life. All the blood in my body felt like it was flowing straight to the juncture of my thighs, where an inimitable yearning was blossoming and throbbing to life.

  “Fuuck,” Alcaeus groaned against my pleading lips, “I can’t … I didn’t mean to … fuck, fuck, it’s that scent—”

  With a growled, “Eh, fuck Alex,” his lips crashed down onto mine in a searing hot, all-consuming kiss that flipped my world on its axis. I went up in flames as his tongue delved inside of my mouth, thrusting gently, yet insistently, coaxing a response from my inexperienced one. I didn’t know what to do at first, but when he sucked my tongue into his mouth, silently encouraging me to explore him back, I pretty well lost it and just allowed instinct to take over.

  He rolled over top of me, and my greedy hands couldn’t welcome him fast enough, exploring his muscled arms, torso, and whatever other parts I could reach as I urged him closer.

  It was still just a dream, I told myself. It wasn’t real. It didn’t matter that I was acting so wanton. Behavior in dreams didn’t have consequences.

  So it wouldn’t matter that my legs had parted to afford him space between them as he hovered above, holding his weight off of me right where I was growing wet and feverish to feel him most.

  His hands fisted in my hair, cradling, tipping, and tugging my head as he saw fit to better devour my mouth from every possible angle. It was the most exhilarating thing I’d ever experienced as I allowed myself to drown in his kiss. His mouth melded with mine as if they were meant to be one, his tongue stroking a hedonistic rhythm that matched the pulsing cry of the little outer organ amid my legs that was now aching for want of attention.

  My hips were soon lifting in silent entreaty, my pelvis seeking some manner of friction that might ease the pain before I could stop to consider consequences. He grunted into my mouth when my center successfully connected with his at last, the brief, delicious brush of contact sending my throbbing button into such a wildly fluttering, desirous frenzy that I almost screamed in protest when he abruptly drew his torso away.

  “Christ!” he swore, tearing his lips away and moving a hand from my hair to my hip in order to direct it away from his own hip and back down to the ground. I mewled sadly in objection.

  After a string of “fucks,” he took to cursing in another language in between kisses. “Argh … we can’t … not right …” he grumbled disjointedly as he nipped and sucked on my lips. “You’re not yourself, honey,” he grated, sounding pained. “No fear … not fair … need to stop …”

  But I didn’t want to stop, and I whined in dissent. I’d pretty well lost my mind to my own insatiable lust that was demanding satisfaction above all else.

  “Please?” My fingers clung to him. “Hurts …” I conveyed in shameless reference to the lesser organ that had somehow gained control over my higher faculties.

  “Fuuuck!” he howled, abandoning my lips entirely to bury his face in the crook of my neck where he commenced growling with such raw, animalistic fervor his whole body vibrated and shook against me.

  Strangely, it didn’t scare me in the slightest. And it did nothing to quell my des
ire. Eventually his shaking diminished in intensity, and he lifted his head to regard me with predatory golden eyes.

  They didn’t frighten me either. For I could focus on nothing but how badly I wanted to feel him grind out the barely restrained violence so unmistakably radiating from him into the desperate emptiness I felt between my thighs.

  Releasing another wounded cry, he leapt clear off of me as if I’d burned him. Confused by his rejection, I sat up to find him uprooting trees, mumbling colorful, fragmented expletives interspersed with “Alex” and “vessel” before announcing, “Goddamnit, I have to go. Alex is coming!”

  He cut me off when I began to shake my head in denial. “No, no, honey, listen to me,” he implored, kneeling in front of me. “I fucked up. It’s my fault for getting you so worked up.” He took my hands in his. “What I did wasn’t right. You wouldn’t have responded the same way if I hadn’t suspended your fear and compelled you to feel safe with me.”

  “No,” I refuted, “I would have. You … you lived through the Inquisition,” I rambled in justification, “and … and I really like you,” I stammered like a starry-eyed schoolgirl. “I didn’t know you before, and that’s why I was scared … but now that I do …”

  He winced and shook his head, giving me a miserable, guilty smile. “I’m sorry, angel, but I can’t let you remember that I was here with you. So when I leave now, your mind will erase all memory of our dream encounter.”

  “No, please don’t do that! I want to remember you like this. And everything we talked about.” And the things I felt. “You said you came here to help answer my questions!”

  “Milena, believe me, it’s going to pain me so much more than it will you to do this. But I can’t risk Alex accessing your memory and finding out that I was here.”

  “Please, please don’t do this?” I begged, feeling the burn of unshed tears behind my eyes. “I don’t want to forget!” It was a small comfort that he looked as miserable as I felt.

  “You will remember everything I’ve shared with you about my family’s history, as well as the concept of a mate and the role of a vessel,” he promised, squeezing my hands. “When I leave, you’ll be left with the vague memory that it was my Grandma Lucia, the last vessel, who came to visit you in your dream and imparted all the information that I’ve disclosed.

  “Clever, eh?” he wagged his eyebrows in a lighthearted attempt to inject some humor and garner my approval for his quickly fabricated ruse. “Alex will be so fucking irritated.” He chortled blithely, although the emotion seemed strained.

  While his reasoning made sense, and the precaution was likely warranted, I still didn’t like it. I also knew I wouldn’t be able to sway him. So I nodded dolefully as I stared into his beseeching eyes.

  He gifted me with a tight smile and a wink. “Thank you.”

  I’d had no choice in the matter. Much like everything else in my life lately. I wasn’t sure what he was thanking me for.

  “Oh, and Milena,” he said with a final squeeze of my hands, “when Alex visits you in your sleep now, you won’t let him push you around or intimidate you, okay? You will recognize that you are dreaming and that he has invaded your mind, but you won’t be fearful of him in the same manner you are in the flesh. Understood?”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I was jolted from my solitary reverie as an irate male voice, which seemed to be coming from the night sky above, growled, “Yes, so I can smell! The question is what the hell has been happening in here to make her so aroused?”

  Another man in the sky responded, “She’s been fast asleep this entire time. I have no idea what aroused her, but it could only have been something she was dreaming about.”

  More swearing and questioning ensued, and I realized the voices belonged to Alex and Kai.

  I was sitting all alone in a darkened forest. It occurred to me I was dreaming, although I couldn’t recall what I’d been doing in this dream before I’d heard the men’s voices in the sky. For that matter, I wasn’t sure for how long I’d been dreaming about sitting in a forest, either.

  As I was struggling to remember, Alex materialized, wearing a fancy black tuxedo and marching straight for me through the trees. He looked angry.

  “Jesus Christ, Milena! What the hell have you been up to sitting here by yourself?”

  I shrugged. It didn’t seem to be the answer he was looking for, as he appeared exasperated by my response. He gnashed his teeth and growled down at me, his body shaking with fury.

  “You were fucking despondent not forty minutes ago!” he accused.

  My eyes widened as realization clicked that it was really Alex—not just a dream Alex—that I was interacting with now. That creepy mind-raper had had the audacity to invade my head when I was dreaming! He seriously had no soul.

  “I was in the middle of a critical business negotiation, and it felt like you were dying of a broken fucking heart or something!”

  What? The man was daft. I didn’t recall having any upsetting dreams.

  “Finally, there was the briefest respite where I thought I might recover some semblance of sanity.” He chuckled bitterly as he began to wear a path into the forest floor in front of me. “But then your emotions somehow turned on a dime to crazy, insatiable arousal!” he proclaimed, throwing his arms in the air like I was the world’s greatest basket case.

  Arousal? No way! Although … strangely, now that he’d mentioned it, I noted I was feeling somewhat worked up?

  “I couldn’t fucking concentrate! My mind kept conjuring up all these … images … and scenarios of … of …” He stopped pacing as his words trailed off into a low, sustained growl, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides.

  “What in God’s name is wrong with you, anyway?” he demanded. “Do you always dream like this? Like you’re fucking bipolar?”

  That did it! Where the hell did he get off waltzing into my mind and dream state reprimanding and belittling me for my unconscious choice of reverie? I leapt to my feet.

  “Well, gee, I don’t know,” I sauced back, walking right up to where he stood fuming at me. “I’m not normally drugged when I’m sleeping, for starters. And no one’s ever come barging into my mind while I was sleeping before to rant or lodge a complaint about how strange my REM cycle is!” I screeched up at him on tiptoe. He gawked down at me like I’d grown four heads.

  “What in God’s name is wrong with you?” I countered, jabbing my pointer finger into his chest. “Do you always interact with people like this? Like an unconscionable asshole?” I shrieked.

  Rather than strangle the life out of me in fury as I half-expected him to do, he stepped back, his brows gathering in suspicion. “Wait. Why aren’t you afraid of me right now?”

  I huffed and rolled my eyes. “I’ll just take that as a yes to my last question.”

  To my surprise, he smirked. Then he eyed me up and down with obvious interest. He still seemed baffled by my behavior, but no longer incensed. He appeared to be more … intrigued by it. He closed the space between us in one fluid movement. My hands went up instantly, if however futilely, in defense to press against his shirted chest.

  “You know, you’re acting awfully brave for a little human girl completely at my mercy. Is this your way of asking me for attention?”

  Before I could tell him and his condescending tone where to stick it, his evil fingers found their way into my hair and proceeded to capitalize on my worst weakness where he was concerned. I closed my eyes against the traitorously pleasurable tingles they produced.

  Warm lips skated across my forehead. “I can smell your arousal,” he whispered against my temple as his other hand slipped around my waist to span my lower back. “And feel your intense frustration,” he added, yanking my body solidly into his so that his hard, muscled upper thigh hit unerringly against the most vulnerable, sensitive point between my legs. I gasped and my eyes flew open, but I refused to look up at him, keeping my sight trained on his lapel.

  “If you ask me
nicely, I might take care of that ache for you, Milena.”

  To my supreme mortification, that ache he’d so eloquently referred to began pulsing wildly against his thigh at his insulting proposal, as if chanting its own approval. My knees felt unsteady and I was short of breath.

  “I know you enjoy the way my fingers feel against your scalp,” he said quietly, dragging said digits sensuously against the back of my head to illustrate the effect he knew he had on me as goose bumps flowered over my skin.

  His hand at my lower back slid to my shorts. Long, sure fingers firmly cupped my right ass cheek before gliding down along the cleft of my globes to tap between my legs at the seam of my shorts—the sheer indecency of such a shocking and unexpected caress rendering me stupefied.

  “You’re not breathing,” he noted, his fingers drifting back up to the center of my backside to splay across my ass. I opened my mouth to allow air in, but I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

  “If you say please”—he flexed his thigh into my front where I was now throbbing with need—“I might be persuaded to show you just how good my fingers can feel elsewhere.” Those fingers were now massaging the flesh of my ass, effectively grinding me into his hard thigh.

  I panted for air. Wow. Just … Wow!

  Only the unparalleled hatred and disgust I felt rising up in my gut for him could eclipse the scandalous sensation of my own painful state of arousal at his wicked hands. He was the purest of evil straight to his core, as he clearly delighted in inflicting all manner of humiliation and torture upon those weaker than he. He was twisted and sick, and I would not succumb to his malevolent wiles.

  I glared up at him. “I would rather eat glass, thank you.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said, releasing me so fast I toppled to the ground. “Try not to dream like a fucking schizophrenic.” He turned on his heel and began walking away. “Or I’ll come back and force-feed you that glass.”