Wolf's Temptation (Caedmon Wolves Book 7)

by Kirk, Ambrielle

“Strange,” Dawson said.

  “They say that trauma, such as near-death experiences can throw someone who was born an empath into an awakening period. Oddly enough, my running away from the fire and into a lightning storm occurred right before I began noticing I could read people’s emotions and use the energy from it to move matter.”

  “I wonder if that means you weren’t born with your powers,” Dawson said. “In my community, we’ve had—and still have—wolf shifters with the very same abilities you’ve shown me. We call them Elders or Seers, as most of them can see glimpses of the future and past depending on the strength of their gift. My sister is one of the youngest Seers among us. Her precog and retrocog abilities are limited…or rather, she limits them on purpose. What I find fascinating, is that you aren’t a shifter or of Caedmon blood.”

  “Right. I’m a human born of witch’s blood who happened to be in the wrong place at an unfortunate time.”

  “And you want to find others like you?”

  I nodded.

  “Which side of you?”

  “Both.”

  “I’m sure you’re aware of the consequences, and that not all witches or empaths are moral beings like yourself.”

  “It’s why I’ve held it off for so long. Dad warned me of the same thing. I think he wants to protect me from what happened to my mom. Her family doesn’t even know I’m still alive. He wants it that way. Part of me does too, but that part is beginning to lose its fight to who I’m becoming.”

  “Who you’re becoming…?” Dawson’s brows slanted downward.

  “Yes. I’m not a little girl anymore. Dad won’t be around for long. It’s time I learned to take care of myself, and I feel the first part of that is learning about this other half of me and my gifts, which I’m only beginning to learn how to control.”

  “Who’s your mother?”

  “I don’t know. All I have are a few pictures of her and Dad when they were together. She took a lot of precautions. She was paranoid. She never kept any ID on her and never used banks. When Dad found what was left of her belongings in a box in the trunk of her old car, all her money was there with it. She was only twenty-four years old when she died but had amassed a small cash fortune. Dad took the cash and placed it in the trust fund, the same one that’ll revert to me on Monday.”

  “Do you know her name?”

  I paused before reluctantly whispering the name I hadn’t uttered in years. “Agnes.”

  “Last name?”

  I shook my head. “She used an alias; it was Moore. My Dad doesn’t even know what her real name was. He said he didn’t care because they were going to marry and she would have taken his name.”

  “Do you think your dad has any more clues?”

  “Maybe. My first link was made when I matched the symbol on your party invite to a symbol I saw in my dreams.”

  “You mean my family’s crest is connected somehow to your dreams?”

  I nodded. “Yes, my dreams.”

  “Do you have them all the time?” he asked.

  “Not often. Most of us have recurring dreams, so I figured this was the case until Donna handed me that invite. I tried to draw the symbol once, but the complete picture never came together. I draw lots of things from my dreams and sometimes from my flashbacks too.”

  “Hmmm.” He pressed his lips together. “Are these drawings in your gallery?”

  “No. I do most of my sketches and drawings in bed. I can show them to you.”

  He smiled. “I’d love to see them. Maybe even when you’re in bed and in the process of drawing one.”

  “Good try.” I laughed softly. “I don’t normally bring guys home, though.”

  He raised a brow suspiciously. “Normally?”

  “I try not to get attached to them.”

  “Does that mean you use them and then lose them?” he asked with a smirk tugging at his lips.

  “What kind of woman do you think I am?” I retorted.

  “I’m not accusing you of anything at all,” he teased, holding his hands up. “It’s just hard to believe that someone as good-looking as you isn’t with someone already.”

  “Since you’re so nosy, I haven’t met anyone yet that I really want to be with.”

  “Is that so?”

  I shrugged. “I’m picky…sort of.”

  Dawson leaned back in the chair. He paused to size me up for a moment before saying, “Being selective about who you spend the rest of your life with is a very smart move. You want someone who is going to complete you on all levels. And that includes sexual, spiritual, and emotional. The perfect mate.”

  “I’m not sure I’ve met him yet. Does such a thing as the perfect mate exist?”

  “Of course.”

  “I find that hard to believe. More than half of all marriages end in divorce or unhappy compromises.”

  “Some things must come to an end, but by no means is it considered failure. Imagine if you were stuck somewhere you didn’t want to be but knew that just two doors down was a place where you were certain you could find happiness. You’d have to leave the place that didn’t bring you satisfaction to seek what does, right?”

  “These things make sense only if they’re true more than half of the time. It doesn’t explain why my mother chose unhappiness over uncertainty.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If she wanted to be with my dad, why didn’t she? I saw pictures of them, and even though they’re just memories captured in photos, I sensed the love between them. Their smiles weren’t fake, and the looks in their eyes were sincere. I lived with my mom and the man she elected to marry. There was no love there. If my mom loved my dad, why did she choose death over him? I don’t get that. Do you?”

  Dawson was quiet for a long time. He looked uncomfortable across from me. “I don’t know. There’s a destined path for everyone.”

  The sorrow squeezing my chest would not leave me even as I took a series of deep breaths to get myself in check. I didn’t know whether I wanted to cry or lash out. It was unfair. This life was unfair.

  Overwhelmed with my sudden quest for answers, I shot up from my chair. “Excuse me.”

  “Alessia!” Dawson rose with me and grabbed my arm, firmly but gently.

  I tried to tug out of his grip, not in any mood to finish the conversation we’d started. “Let me go.”

  “Alessia…what did I say?” He reached for me with his other hand.

  A nasty flashback took over me. I swallowed down my pain as I saw my mom forced down on the floor with my stepdad grunting and grinding behind her. My mom’s cries seemed endless, but my stepdad was stronger…unnaturally strong.

  My heartbeat tripled in rhythm as I panicked.

  The energy around me seeped through my pores and surged through me. I fought for control over what had obviously consumed me, but taking in too many emotions was too dangerous. I had to get away from everyone around me. I balled my hands into fists and witnessed as Dawson loosened his hold on me and clutched at his upper chest.

  “Gods,” he said on a strangled cry.

  His eyes had changed colors, and now his pupils were a flaming red, which was an odd contrast to the icy blue. He grabbed the table and panted for air.

  Oh, shit! What had I done? I closed my eyes and quickly forced myself to think about anything but what had just transpired. The only diversion I could think of were my paintings. I’d just finished something for a client called “River of Life.” The muted blues and greens, along with the smooth, curved lines calmed me. I got lost in the memory of it, how I felt when I was painting, and how the smells and sights took me away.

  When my heartbeat returned to normal, I opened my eyes. Everything came rushing back to me full force. Nothing had changed. This wasn’t a bad dream.

  Dawson’s shifter aura blazed brightly around him, as if he wanted to change but was holding it all in. His wolf’s spirit surrounded his entire body like a halo, alternating between advancing and receding. Of course,
I was probably the only one that could see the inner struggle between the man and wolf.

  “Is everything okay, sir?” the waiter asked Dawson. He must have just gotten back with our appetizers because the items were atop the serving tray on our table.

  After tending to Dawson, the waiter lifted his gaze to me, throwing me an accusatory stare.

  “I’m sorry,” I mumbled and sidestepped them, making a beeline toward the restroom signs.

  As I rushed between tables, I felt the wind pick up behind me. But we weren’t outside or in the elements. There was no natural breeze; only me whizzing through the tables trying to get to my destination before I lost control. I had inadvertently created a windstorm behind me.

  Guests cried out in shock as plates lifted and toppled over, along with the tablecloths as I passed by them. Wine glasses and utensils even crashed to the floor.

  I couldn’t reach the end of the hall where the restrooms were located fast enough, but once there, I was met by a locked door and an out of order sign. There was an arrow on the sign pointing farther down the hall.

  “This one is out of order,” a young lady said as I came from the opposite direction. “There’s a line on the other end. Apparently, a lot of folks need to tinkle, so be prepared to wait awhile.”

  I turned and ran outside of the restaurant and into the freezing cold. I let out a ragged sigh of relief. The calmness of the night flooded me, yet I was still completely dismayed over the magnitude of my condition. I couldn’t bring myself to call it anything but that. People with power knew how to control themselves.

  I heard the sound of fresh water running through the river and I walked in the direction of it. The cold breeze folding against my bare skin was the last of my worries. I’d left my purse and coat behind. Hell, I’d even left my ride behind. I’d left behind the only man who seemed to understand me. Did he really? Or was he just pretending? It didn’t matter anyway. After tonight, I was one hundred percent certain that he’d never want anything else to do with me again. I had nearly killed him tonight. I could have killed him if I’d wanted to. I didn’t want to. I didn’t know what had come over me. I was a danger to everyone, including Dawson. Maybe I was doomed to live a solitary life, alone, and with no one. I was doomed to live with the evil inside of me, letting it consume me day by day.

  Chapter Eleven

  Alessia

  I made it all the way down the sidewalk and across the street to the canal walk. A few people were out meandering around, and I even spotted a couple or two romancing under the night sky. I could think better here, and even calm myself faster without being surrounded by all of the commotion back at the restaurant. I wanted to get as close to the water as possible, so I took the stone staircase down to the ground level.

  I was only yards away from the water’s edge when I sensed Dawson’s spirit behind me. Something was different about my intuition this time. I paused in my stroll, lifted my nose to the air, and caught his scent on the breeze. Only the aroma was much stronger. It took me less than a few seconds to realize that Dawson, the wolf, was behind me. Not Dawson, the man.

  More than curious to see his wolf, I spun around.

  Sure enough, a white wolf stood behind me. The top and underbody furs were coated in black—darker than the rest of his coat. From a distance, which was about twelve feet, he looked huge standing on all fours. The most striking part of him was his eyes, which were the same blue hue as Dawson’s while in human form.

  The wolf sat and assessed me just as I was assessing it.

  I was more than a little embarrassed about what had happened at the restaurant. If he had come to confront me about almost putting him in a casket, he had every right to be angry. I turned and started to walk forward again. So did the wolf.

  It was nearly pitch black on the ground level. Probably not the safest place for a lone woman to be at night.

  I made my way under a footbridge. As I walked through, I saw our shadows on the stone wall. A big wolf following a human woman. The images distorted as we went deeper under the overpass and the light from the moon faded out above us.

  “Why are you following me?” I asked, as if the wolf would somehow give an instant answer.

  Of course, the wolf said nothing, just sat back on his hind legs and watched me.

  “I’m sorry for what I did back at the restaurant. I guess it’s obvious to you now that I have very little control over this condition.”

  I picked up a rock from the ground and threw it with a flick of my wrist at the river. It skipped across the surface for a few feet and then disappeared underwater.

  “I want to understand this, but I’m smart enough to know my answers may come with a price. I don’t want to harm anyone else in the process, especially people that I really care about.”

  I looked at the wolf, whose attention was focused on me.

  “Most people like me live a solitary life. I know this because I’ve been researching my condition. So has my father. He’s had more luck than I have. We’ve collected dozens of news articles from around the world about mysterious occurrences of both men and woman who can move matter. Most of the instances were caught on video unbeknownst to the people. We know they don’t want to be found or interrogated because shortly after each encounter, the suspects usually disappear or move away without a trace.”

  I sighed. “I believe you understand the need for secrecy about my condition more than anyone else I’ve met. I imagine you and your kind take precautions so that your existence isn’t common knowledge. We’re both the same in that regard, and I suspect it’s one of the reasons I feel comfortable talking to you.” I smiled and then added, “Even in your wolf form.”

  The wolf moved in closer, almost as if testing the distance between us. My temper storm had passed, but I understood his need to take precautions.

  In this form, the wolf’s back came to almost above my mid-thigh. This was no ordinary wolf, and I had never been this close to one before. I placed my hand out and he slid underneath my palm, allowing me to caress his soft head and neck.

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  A long moment passed with me running my fingers through his soft fur. The night was still and quiet, and I had almost forgotten about the chilly air pushing against my skin.

  “Your kind seems so harmless. You’re part animal, but you’re very much in tune with your humanity. Your human side is in control. I don’t always feel in control. I wish I weren’t like this. No one would ever want me…like this.”

  I felt the change in the atmosphere before Dawson’s shift ever happened. His skin and fur vibrated against my fingers where I stroked him. The air pulsed and warmed around me. I had never witnessed anything quite like this before in close proximity. As if by magic, the wolf faded and out folded Dawson in human form. His clothes were still intact as if the change had never happened.

  “I want you,” he said.

  I was so utterly fascinated by what he’d just done in front of me that I was confused by his response.

  “Huh?” I mumbled.

  “You said no one would want you,” he replied. “That’s not true. I want you.”

  “Dawson, I…”

  He brought his hand slowly upward to caress my cheek. His palm stroked my skin and his fingers delicately combed through my hair. He pulled my chin upward to meet his gaze. I walked into him, pressing myself into his heated chest. His big, muscular arms swallowed up my petite frame. I was completely wrapped up in his embrace and in the masculine but enchanting scent of him.

  Dawson moved his other hand up to cup the back of my head, tilting me slightly so that my lips were just under his mouth.

  “I need you to trust me, Alessia. I won’t hurt you. I want to help you.”

  I nodded. I believed him. His good intentions were obvious and they had been from the very start, but could he really help me?

  “Are you going to kill me when I kiss you?” he asked, his lips dangerously close to mine. “Because I will k
iss these lips tonight.”

  “Depends,” I whispered.

  He licked his lips. “On what?”

  “On how well you kiss me.”

  He pressed his lips to mine, owning me with zealous hunger. The strength of his caress led my lips apart. As I drank in the sweetness of his kiss, a burning desire consumed me and I pushed up closer to him, pressing my breasts against his chest and my hips to his hips.

  He groaned and moved both palms down to hold me about the waist and hard against him. My hands grabbed both of his forearms as I held onto him, lifting myself to the very tips of my toes to taste even more of him. Liquid desire coursed through me rampantly, hotter than Hades and thicker than blood.

  His mouth was unyielding. His rhythm was erotic and sensual. Our tongues moved together slowly, but demandingly. He took his time kissing me. I had never been kissed so thoroughly before.

  I pulled away momentarily to catch my breath, but that didn’t stop his pursuit. His lips dropped to my neck, where he pressed kisses to the side of my throat. His nose was in direct alignment with the hollow of my neck, his breathing erratic against my skin.

  “Dawson,” I moaned.

  His cock hardened inside his jeans and pushed against my hip. With each and every move of my lower body, he pulsed against me a little more.

  His mouth swooped down to reclaim mine once again.

  “You win,” I whispered against his mouth.

  His mouth left mine, but he kept me in a passionate embrace. “Did I?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  “I want to do so much more with you and to you,” he said.

  “But it’s too soon,” I said.

  “Says who?” he challenged.

  I increased the distance between us just a bit to get a good look at his face.

  “When you deny yourself something you want, doesn’t that make it harder to control yourself?” he asked. “Isn’t it better to let go of your emotions and let them guide you than it is to subdue your emotions, hold them in, and let them drain you?”

  It scared me how accurate he was, how on point he was about me and what I was feeling.