by Aline Hunter
She pressed her hand into her face, grateful for the small shield it provided.
Could things possibly get worse? She was in a strange place—with a lycae related to the alpha of the renowned Bacchus pack—without her weapons. Her nose flared and she felt a growl of fury rising in her throat. This was the asshole werewolf’s fault—the one from the evening before. The stupid son of a bitch had come between her and her mission. If not for him, she could have gotten what she’d come for and left.
No hiccups. No complications.
No feeding from men who made her hot as the Sahara.
Her fury increased, licking at her skin, making her temperature rise. “Where the hell is he?”
“Where is who?” The laughter in his voice had evaporated.
She rose and shook herself, unwilling to remain in a position of submission. “The stupid fucking lycae who came between me and the vampyren chew toy.”
He hesitated and asked, “What do you want with him?”
“What don’t I want with him would be a better question.” Feeling around, she stumbled past a chair and became entangled in plastic mini blinds. “Damn it! How small is this place?”
“Calm down.” He moved as he spoke, no doubt crossing the distance. “You’ll hurt yourself.”
Angry and embarrassed, she allowed him to guide her across the room. “If you’re so worried about my state of being,” she snapped, “close the fucking blinds!”
The stranger’s nearness brought on another surge of hunger, his blood as intoxicating as the finest Bordeaux. She breathed through her mouth, grinding her teeth. What was going on? Drinking from an immortal meant the thirst should be completely appeased, not increased. And this one was definitely immortal—a friend of Greyson’s, and a lycae.
The hand at her arm vanished, fingers tugged at her waist and she sagged into a dusty chair. The man waited a few seconds before he left her side. She heard a loud clack as the blinds were closed. She cracked one lid open, then the other. Her eyes watered with unshed tears, blurring objects into strange shapes. She could walk in the sun but doing so came with a price. Her eyes were too sensitive to the light, her skin unable to withstand the hot rays of the sun for too long. The lycae strode from across the way, stopped and crouched beside her. She tried to bring his enormous bloblike frame into focus.
“Let me help you,” he murmured as though he wanted to reassure her. “What can I do?”
“Nothing.” She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her lids with the pads of her fingers. The only thing that could counter the burn of the sun was the coolness of the earth, and there was no way in hell she was asking a strange lycae to dig up a chunk of dirt for a mud mask.
After a second, she heard Wolfe stand. He crossed the room and she flinched when she heard a door click open and slam closed. She froze, waiting to see what he’d do next. After several seconds, she heard him returning, his feet pounding up the stairs. The door opened again, only this time he closed it more carefully. She smelled him approaching, somehow calmed by his balmy scent. The luscious aroma of his skin stopped inches from her face and she smelled the fresh earth in his hand.
“Tell me what to do,” he said and settled beside her.
It wasn’t possible. He couldn’t know how to treat her. “How did you—”
He pried her fingers from her eyes and massaged the cool soil against the stinging skin. “Like this?”
The relief was immediate. She moaned in bliss, relaxing as he tended to her. The earth felt amazing against her agonized flesh. He took his time, easing the sting, taking her pain away. God, it felt good. Too good. He was cautious. So gentle. Each swipe of his fingers was deliberate but guarded, as though he didn’t want to cause her further harm.
It had been decades since anyone had touched her so tenderly.
“That ends now,” he said unexpectedly, pulling her out of her reverie.
“What does?” The words were more of a sigh but she didn’t care. She wanted to enjoy the moment, milking each and every second for all it was worth.
He didn’t answer, repeating the ministrations. Before long, the miserable prickles disappeared. She probably looked an absolute mess but oddly enough, she didn’t care. Now that she remembered how wonderful a healing and caring touch felt, she didn’t want it to end.
“You don’t have to worry about that.” Wolfe pressed closer, and she felt the heat of his breath caress her face. “I never want to stop touching you, Arden.”
Alarm bells sounded, taking her from relaxed to alert. “How do you know my name?”
Just as the question came to mind, she had her answer—telepathy.
A mind reader. Wonderful.
Lycae had the ability to read and share thoughts, but it was weak against preternatural creatures. By taking his blood, she’d inadvertently bound herself to him. That was why she didn’t indulge in the blood of immortals she didn’t know and trust. Being blood bound was as dangerous as being enslaved. If she let him get too close, he’d know her every secret. He’d know everything about her. And—like the fool she was—she’d forgotten that the instant she’d gotten a taste of the lycae inches from her.
He must have sensed her intention to move away from him and used his broad body to keep her in place. He slid his hips between her open knees, forced her smaller body into the chair and pinned her. His fingers slid up her shoulder and around her nape.
“Don’t run.” He nuzzled her nose and moved forward. “It won’t do you any good.”
“What do you w-want?” she stammered, detesting the fear that lined her words and echoed in her mind, knowing he heard both. Even if she tried to fight, it would be a while before she could see. Like this, she couldn’t defend herself.
“Don’t be afraid.” He sounded ashamed, backing off slightly. “I won’t hurt you.”
“You’re crowding me.” She fought to remember his name, struggling to think clearly. It had been there just a second ago. Why couldn’t she remember it now?
“It’s Wolfe, remember? My name is Wolfe.”
“Wolfe,” she breathed and cleared her throat, thinking that naming a lycae Wolfe was about as imaginative as calling a cat Pussy.
“Not very inventive, is it?” Wolfe chuckled.
“Not particularly.” She groaned, unable to silence the sound when she felt his impressively hard length press into her thigh. Damn. Even through clothing, his cock felt long and thick.
“You smell so good, Arden. I want to devour you.”
Shaking her head, she attempted to move away from the hand at her neck, struggling against the sensual web he so easily weaved. One strand found another, twining into strings of raw desire. She’d never imagined a lycae would want her in his bed. They loathed those who ingested blood too much for that.
Hell must have frozen over when I wasn’t looking. I guess there’s a first time for everything. It must have been the bite that aroused him.
“We can’t.” Simple speech was a struggle. She was too swamped by his presence, unnerved by his nearness. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea. I took advantage of the situation. I wanted your blood, not a quick tumble between the sheets.”
“I liked you taking advantage. Believe me.” His lips brushed hers, his breath warm against her mouth. “And who said anything about a quick tumble? If I have my way, I’ll keep you screaming my name for hours.”
Seductive and arrogant. Why am I not surprised?
Feigning annoyance, she countered, “Please. All lycae want casual and unattached sex. You don’t settle, and you don’t commit. Not until you’ve found your mate.”
“You’re right.” He lifted his head. “We don’t.”
He didn’t move away, studying her. Although his face remained blurry, thanks to her run-in with the sun, something in the way he spoke frightened her. It was definitely time to pack up and go home. “If I’m right, then back off. Give me some space.”
“It’s not that simple, Arden. You can’t know h
ow difficult this is for me. Being this close to you”—his head darted forward and he flicked his tongue against her lower lip—“smelling and tasting you. I want to lick you up like candy, see if you taste as sweet as you smell.”
“Come on.” Another longer touch of his tongue muffled her argument. “It can’t be that difficult to find a willing female.”
“No.” He shook his head, softly bumping her nose in the process. “It’s not difficult.”
She started to speak when he kissed her, snaking his tongue inside her mouth.
Oh my. Oh sweet heaven.
She hadn’t thought anything could be more potent than his blood but she’d been wrong. Each rotation of his tongue told her he knew exactly how to use it. He was experienced, that much was clear. What if he focused his attention on another set of lips? How would it feel if he buried his face between her legs? What if she let him lick her up like candy?
Why not find out?
Sex was something she could never risk—a lesson she’d recently learned when she’d attempted to take a lover and had nearly killed him. She was too strong for mortal men, too tempted to drink as desire merged with hunger. Lycae were superior by design. Immortals feared them for a damn good reason. They were fierce, strong and unbreakable. She could finally discover what it felt like to be free and experience sex as she was meant to.
He won’t break. He can give you what you need.
She went soft, enjoying the clean taste and incredible feel of him.
Wolfe lowered his head, nipped at her throat and licked the skin in a smooth, decisive stroke. “You concern for my safety makes me ache, cher.”
Cher. The endearment triggered a memory from the night before.
Arden froze when she placed the thick, rich voice of the lycae pressed so intimately against her. It was him. The very person who’d allowed Taylor Martinson to slip away. Due to his interference, she hadn’t been able to home in on her final target. He’d ruined her chance to get closer to Lucius Mercoix.
Goddamn him!
He didn’t have the opportunity to brace himself. She flung her head back and slammed it forward, bestowing a full-on Glasgow kiss. The solid crack that carried through the room as her forehead met his nose was mildly gratifying. The scent of his blood filled the air. Thankfully, it wasn’t as enticing now that she knew who he was and what he’d done. She climbed over the side of the chair, swiping at her muddied eyes.
“You son of a bitch!” she screamed and struggled to see. “You slimy fucking bastard!”
“Calm down.” He spoke from lips coated in vivid red. That much she could see.
“Where are my weapons, mongrel,” she snarled.
“You’re not going anywhere, Arden.” Wolfe was angry—the blow she delivered was impossible to be happy about—but she realized he was trying to remain calm. “Not until there is an understanding between us.”
“Us.” She laughed and started for the door. “There will never be an us, lycae.”
Facing the blinding sun was preferable to the future she’d face after she killed off the cousin of Adam Trevlian. She’d just have to bide her time and go after Taylor when the opportunity presented itself again. In the long scheme of things, two decades weren’t shit. She had an eternity to take care of her vow.
What good was immortality without something rewarding to look forward to?
“Me.” Wolfe’s large body blocked her path to freedom. “You have me to look forward to.”
“I wouldn’t touch you if you were the last available male on the planet and the survival of the immortal race depended on it.”
He lunged for her and she crouched, avoiding his arms. She spun, got a decent visual and landed a kick that connected with his lower back. He went down, hitting the floor with a solid thunk. The door beckoned, so close she could taste freedom. She jumped over his body and reached for the knob. A pair of strong arms snared her from behind, dislodging her fingers. He picked up her and carried her away from the exit. She gasped when he tossed her on the bed and clasped her hands above her head. He caged her with his larger form, pinning her to the mattress.
Thrashing like a wild thing, she thundered, “Let go!”
“All right, hellcat, listen up.” Wolfe’s face slowly came into focus. His green eyes were bright. A few flakes of blood had dried around his nostrils. His thick, dark hair spilled forward, scattering around his temples. “Scream at me for coming between you and Taylor. I deserve it. But don’t ever try to run from me. You won’t get far, and it causes the beast under my skin to fight for control. I don’t want that for you. Not the first time.”
“Have you lost your mind?” He was insane. Absolutely cray-cray. “There won’t be a first time, you crazy son of a bitch!”
“Oh, there’ll be a first time.” He pressed his swollen erection against the softness of her mound and rotated his hips. She’d been right. He was thick, long and hard as hell. “And a second. And a third…”
Her throaty moan—one she couldn’t prevent—fueled her outrage at herself. She would easily give it up to this bastard, even after the opportunity he’d cost her. She cursed her weak body, damned herself for feeling so drawn to a male her pride wouldn’t allow her to have.
She met his gaze and ordered, “Get off me.”
“I won’t let you go. I can’t.” The intensity in his eyes made her stomach twist into knots. “Do you understand me? Not now, not ever.”
He stared at her as though she wasn’t a woman but a possession. A little warning chimed in her skull. The dawning comprehension made her belly cramp and her heart race. It couldn’t be. There was no way. She couldn’t be his mate. Werewolves mated their own kind or humans they could change, not vampires.
“I didn’t believe it either, not at first.” He eased his hold of her wrists but didn’t let go. “But it’s true. I knew the minute I touched you.”
“It can’t be,” she whispered hoarsely.
“Is the concept of being mated to me so horrific?” He bowed his head, his nose hovering over hers. “You’ll never be alone again. You’ll have someone to depend on for the rest of your life.”
The world reeled, thoughts coming in too quickly to be processed. So many insecurities rose at the prospect of lifelong companionship. The fears of having been an abandoned child resurfaced—harsh, painful and unwanted. Those who cared for her always went away, either by choice or force.
“I’m not going anywhere.” He kissed her then, lips soft and tender.
The overwhelming temptation to relent to his seduction was too much, overriding common sense. How could she be logical when all she wanted was to flip him over and take him for a test drive?
She couldn’t think like this.
“Bathroom,” she mumbled, pushing against the wall of his chest.
“Come again, t’keeira?”
Her eyes slid closed, and she stopped fighting. She didn’t know what t’keeira meant, but at least he hadn’t called her cher. “I need to use the bathroom.”
She knew he sensed her need for space, having invaded her mind yet again. He shifted his enormous frame, released her wrists and moved to the side. With a wave, he motioned to a door to the left. She slid off the mattress, rushed to the bathroom and slammed the door closed. Her breathing was jagged, her heartbeat erratic. Even if it was stupid, she locked the door with shaking fingers.
Get your head on straight.
She stepped over to the sink and reached for the faucets. Fluid shot from the spout, the loud whine of running water muting sounds outside the room. She cupped her hands and splashed the cold liquid onto her face, removing any traces of mud around her eyes. After she finished, she stared at herself in the mirror. Her long blonde hair was tangled and unkempt, her eyes puffy from the strain of the sun. She looked like hell and felt even worse.
There was no way in hell she was returning to that room.
To his arms.
To his bed.
Mating a lycae meant an eternity
spent together. When the member of any shifter race discovered their mate, nothing else mattered. They’d kill anyone who stood between them and the one person they couldn’t exist without regardless of the cost, or the consequences.
She turned to stare at the window over the shower. Her life was too dangerous. If they got involved, he’d put his life at risk. There was no way she could live with that. She’d seen too many people suffer and die because of her.
A soft knock invaded her thoughts. “Arden? We need to talk.”
Inhaling deeply and striving for calm, she tried to pull herself together. “Give me five minutes.”
She hoped he wouldn’t read her mind. Seconds passed like minutes. She held her breath, waiting to see what he’d do. After a moment, she heard heavy footsteps as he moved away from the bathroom. She sprang into action, thinking quick on her feet. If she stuck around, she’d eventually give Wolfe what he wanted. He brought out impulses in her she couldn’t control, appealing to a part of her nature she’d denied for too long.
She left the water running and hurried to the window. The glass had already been lifted, allowing her to see the sunshine outside. Although it was a tight fit, she managed to wriggle through the tiny space, trying to be as quiet as possible. Bright and painful beams of light blasted her face, and she slammed her eyes closed. She used her fingers to guide her, feeling for the side of the building. As her legs slid free and she fell toward the ground, she relied on instinct, rotating her body, saying a tiny prayer that she didn’t break her neck.
She landed on her feet but stumbled. An object tripped her up, sending her to her knees.
Get up! You don’t have time for this.
Using her nose and ears for guidance, she extended her arms and rose on trembling legs. It only took a moment to regain her balance. She scented the air, trying to figure out precisely where she was.
Focus. Focus. Focus…
Then she knew. It was just as she’d thought.
The location reeked of Greyson. Wolfe had taken her to the small loft above the pub. If she stayed off the radar, she could maneuver the landscape without bringing undue attention to herself. A destination was uncertain but at the moment, all she needed was a direction. And in this circumstance, the direction would be as far away from the unforgettable lycae, Wolfe Trevlian, as possible.
