A Werewolf to Call Her Own ( Mystic Isle#2)

by Selena Blake

  So this was where he stored his heat. The skin covering his shaft was softer than the finest silk. His hips shifted and he breathed her name.

  “Let me go, vamp. Need to touch you.”

  She made a sound in the back of her throat that said not a chance.

  Bending to his will now would lead to disaster for her heart. She could feel it. This wasn’t a joke. Wasn’t a spell. She might be playing with him, but to her, this had never been a game.

  She should have listened to him from the start. He’d warned her he could only commit to a night. Maybe a weekend. Holding back her tears, she focused on driving him wild.

  Up and down with her tongue. Squeezing gently with her fingers.

  It didn’t matter how many times she told herself that he’d lost his Alpha, she couldn’t get his words out of her head. They rang on and on like a church bell, bruising her with every word.

  Closing her lips over the head, she closed her eyes and renewed her efforts to make him writhe right out of his skin. Gelato. She bet she would have loved gelato. The ultimate in creamy, sweet perfection. She’d watched enough video online to know that women around the world truly loved the rich Italian ice cream.

  Maybe one day she’d be able to forgive him. See his side of things. Understand how he came to such a silly conclusion.

  Down and up. She used her tongue to massage the underside of his cock and was rewarded with a shout of her name. She kept her hands locked firmly around the base, holding him exactly where she wanted.

  Today was not the day. She wanted him to apologize. To tell her she wasn’t crazy. That he’d felt as close to her as she had to him. But that so obviously was not going to happen.

  Careful to keep her fangs retracted, she licked every inch of his cock that she could. The combination of musk and man soaked into her senses. The intimacy cranked up a notch. And then a distinct jangling met her ears.

  “Hold still,” she ordered.

  He froze, his muscles going taut beneath her.

  Smiling, she closed her lips over the tip of his cock and applied suction. That unfroze him quickly. He went back to tugging the restraints, groaning, his hips rolling beneath her. Demanding she release him. She dared to open her eyes and look at him. His brown eyes were trained on her like twin lasers.

  She slid her palms up his torso, relishing the warmth and the smooth skin over hard muscle. He cursed. In several languages. Years from now, she would remember this. His heat. His power. The look in his eyes.

  If she ever needed a jolt of confidence, she would remember this moment.

  “Ceara. Undo me or I swear I will rip these things out of the wall.”

  “No. You won’t.” She leveled her gaze on him. “You said you couldn’t come. I’m proving you wrong. You undo the restraints and you’ll never find out if you can come or not.”

  Letting her fingernails scrape gently down his chest, she licked her lips and sank down over his cock again. Muscle rippled beneath her lips and she felt him tense. So powerful, so tight.

  Releasing him from her mouth, she stroked him with her hands. The slickness made it so easy to glide her thumbs against the sensitive flesh beneath the crown. His muscles grew more rigid and a vicious growl tore from his throat. He broke eye contact and snapped his head back against the pillow.

  His cock pulsed beneath her fingers and she knew without looking that he’d reached his orgasm. She remembered that look in his eyes. The near frantic twitches that took over his incredible body. The way he groaned in the back of his throat and the animal-like growl that followed. The moment of climax was the closest she’d ever gotten to his true self. The wolf that he kept carefully in check pushed forward.

  Never before had she felt like gloating. But right now, with his semen splashed over his belly and his chest rising and falling… she couldn’t resist a little jab.

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” she said, feigning innocence.

  Straightening, she shimmied off the bed and righted her skirt. On a sharp exhale he met her gaze.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll call housekeeping to come clean you up.” She gave him one final glance, heart breaking, then flashed back to her room.

  She’d flashed.

  Son-of-a--

  Maxim growled and stared at the space she’d just vacated. She’d obviously mastered a lot since the last time he’d seen her.

  That knowledge would not be tempered by the relief the orgasm had brought. Somehow it seemed to compound and magnify until his wolf was barely controlled. He felt his fingernails thicken and reshape into claws. His jaws contracted and his senses heightened.

  Hunt.

  Wrapping his hands around the restraints, he gave them a quick hard jerk. The material stretched and the bolts in the wall creaked. Another tug and he was free. Without a moment to lose, he tore off the straps and gathered his clothes.

  There on the floor was a high-heeled shoe. One of the sexy little numbers Ceara had been wearing. She’d left so fast, she’d lost one.

  Staring down at the black stiletto with sexy little peep-toe detail, he pulled on his slacks, buttoned his shirt and hopped up and down as he put on his socks and shoes. He didn’t know why, but the beast inside him pushed forward, had to find her. Had to see her.

  He snatched the shoe up and darted to the elevator.

  Find.

  Patience, he told his wolf. They would find her. Even if he had to search every square inch of the damn island.

  On the ground level, he marched down the long, wide hallway toward the bank of public elevators. Time seemed to slow down as he reached the half-moon-shaped concierge desk where Charles Latham was casually leaning. The petite brunette on the other side gave him her full attention.

  Maxim watched the professional interaction as he approached, noting the desire in the woman’s eyes. She couldn’t hide that she wanted her boss.

  One of the elevators on the right dinged and the doors opened. Maxim’s heart skipped a beat, hoping that the woman he was searching for would step into the corridor and end his search. He didn’t know why it mattered. Couldn’t understand why he was searching for her. Or what he would say when he finally found her. He’d gotten what he was after. So why was his heart racing like he’d just galloped across Europe? More importantly, why did he feel ashamed of himself?

  No such luck. A couple in the middle of a lip lock stumbled off the elevator.

  What if Ceara was checking out? She could do so from her room. She’d been pretty mad. And he had been pretty rude, but was she upset enough to leave? Could she be packing right now? If so, he’d miss her by wandering up and down the halls of the hotel, sniffing her out.

  He was good at tracking, perhaps not the best in the world, but good enough. But not that lucky. For all he knew, she could be staying in one of the villas again. He broke out in a cold sweat. Or she could have flashed straight back to France.

  Perhaps it was time he changed his tactics.

  “Mr. Ciolek,” the blond god said, pushing away from the desk.

  Time returned to normal and he paused mid-step. “I had a feeling you’d come back,” Latham said, his tone quiet and conspiratorial.

  Maxim frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Because the last time you left, you forgot to take something important with you.” Charles Latham’s cool blue eyes met Maxim’s.

  “I wouldn’t exactly say that, but I need your help.”

  “What, exactly, would you say, then? Rosanna told me about the flowers and your note.”

  Maxim stared at the god for several long seconds. The hard truth was he had thought Ceara special. Important. Now he didn’t know what to think.

  Rather than answer, he lifted the shoe. “I need to find Ceara. It looks expensive. You wouldn’t happen to know her room number, would you?”

  Claim.

  The god shook his head, but put a hand on Maxim’s shoulder and steered him toward the elevator.

  He sighed. “You messed up, did
n’t you? Rosanna was afraid you were leading with something other than your heart.”

  “What?” What place did hearts have on a sex island?

  “It’s written all over you. Tell me why I should give you the information you seek.”

  “The shoe --”

  “Is expensive, yes, I got that part. You could leave it with the front desk.”

  “I --” Maxim frowned down at the shoe. Yes. He could leave it with the front desk. “I’ve got to see her again.”

  Latham’s eyebrows lifted. “Forgive me for saying you sound a little desperate, wolf.”

  “I messed up. Happy now?”

  Latham shrugged. “The view from the third floor is especially beautiful at this time of morning,” he said, an eyebrow quirked upward.

  Maxim jerked his gaze from the floor, surprised that the god would give him such a bold hint. “I’ll go have a look at that.”

  The elevator doors opened on the third floor revealing a long table topped by an elaborate flower arrangement and an oversized mirror. Heart pounding, he stepped out and sniffed the air again.

  Coconut.

  He turned left, following his nose. A housekeeping cart sat halfway down the hallway, unsupervised. As he approached he noticed the master keycard dangling from the push-bar. A quick swipe with his claw and he pocketed the card without slowing his stride.

  Nose in the air, he barely paused at each door. The coconut scent was strongest at the last door on the right. Three twenty-eight.

  Glancing over his shoulder, he checked to make sure he was still alone as he used the keycard to unlock her door. He pushed it open and waited. When he heard and saw nothing alarming, he stepped across the threshold into the dark room.

  The thick drapes were open wide, gauzy sheers blew in the breeze. Streaks of moonlight danced across the floor. He was surprised that she’d be so careless.

  The resort, as a courtesy to their customers, provided rooms for all types. Including sleeping beauties who were allergic to the sun. Her room came with thick, blackout curtains that could seal out daylight. But why would she leave them open, exposing herself to the coming dawn?

  As he stepped into the room, his vision adjusted to the darkness and his ears picked up a tiny fragment of a sound coming from behind the bedroom door. Carefully, silently, he twisted the knob and pushed it open. Warm light flowed from the bathroom, spotlighting the open suitcase on the bed.

  Frowning, he stepped inside. There was a swoosh-swoosh sound that was tempered by a sniffle. Suddenly he felt like he was sinking, drowning.

  Stepping into the light, he stared at the woman who’d given herself to him so freely. The tears rolling down her cheeks were undeniable and the wet streaks made his soul crack. She brushed her teeth with enough force to make her gums bleed.

  Then it hit him, like a sledgehammer to the heart. She was washing away the taste of him. Cleansing herself. The gorgeous red dress lay on the ground at her feet and a white fluffy bathrobe wrapped around her like a suit of armor. She’d brushed the curls out of her hair and washed off her makeup. The vixen from the rooftop who had made his heart stop was gone. And in her place, the young, innocent, fresh-faced vamp who’d stolen his heart.

  She stuck out her tongue and brushed it vigorously.

  He’d done that to her. Shamed her. A woman with a pure soul and a tender heart. A quiet strength and endless beauty.

  He was an ass.

  A class-A jerk.

  He didn’t deserve her.

  Regardless of his problem, he should have controlled himself better. How was he going to be Alpha, lead his pack, when he couldn’t control his own temper? When he couldn’t see the facts? He knew better than to jump headlong to a conclusion.

  She rinsed the toothbrush and turned off the water.

  “Go away, Maxim.” Her voice was dull, broken, and sad. Three things she should never be.

  He felt the weight of her request. And almost gave in. But, somehow, he had to earn her forgiveness. He entered the bathroom, aching to take her into his arms. To kiss away her tears. To promise her -- what?

  His life was not his own. He had responsibilities too great to ignore.

  She didn’t even look at him. Simply brushed by him and went to the armoire. An armful of clothes flew across the room, landing on the bed in a heap.

  He followed her. “Ceara…”

  A half dozen shoes, similar to the one in his hand, careened past his head.

  “Ceara…” I’m sorry sounded so paltry. But it was the best he could come up with. Because he was sorry. Sorry he’d hurt her. “I’m sorry.”

  She moved to the suitcase and shoved the clothing inside. No folding, just balling items up and shoving them in. Her movements were jerky. She paused to wipe away her tears with her sleeve.

  “I know you’re mad at me. You have every right to be. I treated you badly --”

  “I’m mad at myself.” She stilled but didn’t look at him. He saw her rib cage expand as she took a deep breath. Another sniff. Then she started packing again, her movements emphasizing her words. “I’m mad that I let my covenmates primp me up… make me believe that I could win a man like you. As if my clothes and the perfect shade of lipstick matter. I’m mad that I let myself believe that you were different.”

  She was trembling.

  He handed her the shoe. She pursed her lips, grabbed the high heel, and then closed her eyes. He longed to tell her he was different.

  “I liked you before the fancy clothes and high heels.”

  “Don’t lie to me, Maxim.”

  “I’m not.” He would never lie to her. Never had. Never would. “That night on the rooftop, making a sand castle with you --”

  “You walked me to my room and left. Only after I put on a skimpy swimsuit did you --”

  He reached for her, pulled her against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Just leave me a-lone.”

  If her voice hadn’t faltered, he would have done as she asked. Selfishly, he’d gotten what he wanted. At too great a cost…

  “I can’t.”

  Her chin tipped up and her eyes opened. Perfect white fangs peeked out over her bottom lip. “Why not?”

  “I don’t -- I want you too much.”

  She pushed against his chest.

  “You got what you wanted.”

  “No. I didn’t. I want you.” Saying the words out loud cemented the feeling, the desire.

  “We don’t always get what we want.”

  Chapter Twelve

  We don’t always get what we want.

  Maxim had never felt so close to suffocating before. But Ceara was right. A few careless words had hurt her beyond repair.

  He pushed a green frond away and continued down the trail. How did he earn her forgiveness when she wouldn’t even see him? When she threatened to flash again and again? He’d never be able to track her if she didn’t want to be found.

  He felt like hitting something. Ripping something apart with his claws. Biting and shredding with his teeth. It was no use fighting his wolf. He didn’t want to, not with the energy pulsing through him. And the mountain ahead was just the way to stretch his legs.

  He took off running, shifted as he jumped over a fallen tree and came down on the other side on all fours. Leaves slapped his fur as he tore through the undergrowth. The mountain’s lush, moist soil squished beneath his paws as he made his way up the incline. Overhead, birds cried out at his approach.

  Halfway up he heard running water and made his way across an outcropping of rocks to a waterfall. He stepped to the edge of the pool and lapped at the water.

  Thirst quenched, he circled the water until he was standing at the top of another waterfall. The large, wet stone was cool beneath his paw pads. With water raining down behind him, everything else seemed so quiet. So still. From here he could see the ocean, the resort, and plenty of sky.

  He sat and watched a puffy white cloud drift by. A sense of rightness, of peace,
oneness with his true nature filled him. Relaxed him.

  There was no use denying he felt something for the shy young vamp. But could he trust his heart with the most important decision of his life?

  Could he have one without the other? Did he want her more than the pack? He and Danya had worked for years to create the pack they’d never had. Close, well-balanced, safe. But Ceara… she fit him like a glove. Had the ability to make him smile. And damn if he hadn’t missed her every day for the last three months.

  He closed his eyes and remembered the look in hers when he’d swooped in and saved her from the lusty demon. Surprise. Thankfulness. Disbelief. Desire. And then, when he’d started building that sandcastle… The blue-violet color had intensified. That unnamable emotion wasn’t so sneaky now that he knew what he was looking for.

  Ceara loved him. Had almost from the first.

  He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he’d fallen for her. It seemed like he’d known her forever. Loved her… forever.

  How was it possible? A handful of days. A half dozen experiences. She was a vamp.

  He shook his head.

  A sweet vamp. Not scarred by centuries of battle and betrayal. Feisty in her own way, courageous when she needed to be, but happy to let him lead.

  He had a pack. A pack of vampire-angry werewolves. Would mating with Ceara bring vampires and werewolves closer together? Would his pack accept her? Or would their union drive a wedge between the two?

  Even if Ceara accepted him, what about heirs?

  Maxim sat at the water’s’ edge until the sun dipped low in the sky, showering the world with golden hues. Having asked himself the same questions over and over, he felt like he’d been chasing his tail for hours. And he hadn’t gotten anywhere. One thing remained the same. He wanted Ceara again. He wanted to feel her body against his, her hands in his hair, her lips beneath his.

  He needed to hear her say the words that would unleash him. But more importantly, he needed her to forgive him. He needed her to see that he would never willingly hurt her again.