by Diana Ballew
Erin gave into the intimate embrace while the storm swirled like a beast breathing cold air down the back of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his neck, the tips of her toes barely touching the ground, as her tongue joined his, dancing with the frantic beat of her heart.
A violent rush of icy wind ripped across the bay, slapping her hard across the cheek.
Oh God.
She withdrew from the kiss and pressed her cheek to his. “Derek, this … this isn’t like me,” she whispered. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
He slowly pulled back, his heated gaze fixed upon hers, deep blue eyes boring into hers as though speaking on some unearthly level.
The soothing tempo of stringed instruments from inside the house suddenly changed to a feverish pace, the drumbeat matching the thumping beat of her racing pulse.
She closed her eyes as Derek slowly leaned in and kissed her again. Urgent hands slid around her back, his fingertips digging into her skin, sending fevered heat down the length of her spine as his tongue explored her mouth. His taste, her pounding heart, the warm serpentine dance slithering up her backbone, all called to her on some primal level. The next thing she knew, her body fell limp in his arms.
“Come now,” she heard him whisper as he lifted her in his arms and carried her through the back door.
The fevered music, his strong arms carrying her, the heat penetrating her skin — she felt as though she were spiraling, her mind and body detaching from one another, every part of her existence seeking solace from the storm.
The anxious look in Derek’s eyes made her heart pound so hard she could hear the harsh whirl of blood beating inside her ears.
“Derek, I feel so … strange.”
“It’s all right. Everything will be fine,” he whispered against her cheek.
Her vision blurred, the surroundings growing hazy, the walls slowly moving in and out. Set against the primal music playing at an excited pace, sounds of muffled laughter echoed across the tall ceilings and polished floors.
She clung to his neck as he deftly carried her through a long, darkened hallway. They passed candlelit rooms, doors ajar, each one with what appeared to be blurry scenes of fur and half-naked women sprawled out on red satin sheets.
He came to the end of the hall and kicked the door open wide. She gasped at the sound of the heavy wooden door slamming against the wall. Lying within his arms, another rush of heat swept through her entire body. Was this all her wild imagination? The punch?
Oh, God. Perhaps I’ve gone mad.
Through hooded lids, she surveyed the candlelit room as he placed her down upon the large bed. Her body went limp as a rag doll as she melded into the thick mattress. His gaze narrowed as he hovered over her, his outstretched arms perched at each side of her shoulders. “Erin.”
Had he just called her name? She tried to focus on his deep voice and the candlelight flickering in his black pupils as he gazed deeply into her eyes. “Derek, I … I feel so hot, so … ”
His lean body perched above her, his sensual scent, the seductively lit bedroom — all merged with the heated, sexual sounds coming from other rooms.
Desire rushed through her veins, warming her face, her neck, her breasts. Her hunger for his touch grew so fierce she could barely breathe beneath the pinching corset. “Kiss me. Kiss me, Derek,” she whispered.
A seductive smile spread beneath his mustache. He rose up, removed his cape, and tossed it on the leather bedside chair.
His gaze wandered the length of her body. “Now, where were we?”
He slowly slid above her, gentle hands brushing away the wispy tendrils of her hair that had fallen against her cheeks.
Lifting her neck from the pillow, she whispered, “Kiss me.”
He stared into her eyes, his gaze so penetrating her heart skipped a beat, then two.
“My pleasure.” In a flash, he slipped a hand beneath her neck, and pulled her into a deep, passionate kiss.
Every inch of her skin grew sensitive, ignited with longing so intense she felt as though she were burning from the inside out. She pulled from his lips, breathless with desire, and kissed his neck. “This is madness,” she whispered.
“My God, woman,” he breathed against her ear. “You have no idea how much I want you.”
Inhaling his scent, her heart bounded to life. She raked her hands through his thick hair, down his back, across his broad shoulders.
Derek moaned a low, throaty growl as his large hands slid across the curve of her waist, her hips, her thighs. He moved his pelvis, rubbing slowly, rhythmically against her.
Was it her imagination, or did her heart match the tempo of the pounding drums?
“I want you,” he breathed against her earlobe.
She moaned in reply and moved her hips, joining his seductive pace.
His hand glided down the length of her silky dress, inching the fabric higher. She gasped when he reached her sensitive naked thigh.
Urgent fingers slipped beneath her garter, heated fingertips digging into her inner thigh as though branding her with his touch. Her entire body trembled, breath catching deep within her chest, as she groped for the top of the bed.
“Erin, my sweet.”
His husky voice seemed to call to her from every direction as his fingers inched inward. She closed her eyes and moaned when a solitary finger penetrated her depths. Arching up, she pressed her palms against the thick mahogany headboard.
His moustache scratched her bare neck, and a gritty moan hummed against her throat. He paused for a moment. Did she hear a hushed groan?
Like a quill to an inkwell, his finger penetrated her again. And again. She bit down on her bottom lip, stifling the escaping moan, as he slowly withdrew. His hand slid up the thin fabric of her dress, reaching her covered breast.
The animated sounds of heated pleasure and whimpering moans in the nearby bedrooms added to the intensity of the pounding music and her growing desire, threatening to consume her entire body. He trapped a taut nipple between two fingers, and she cried out.
In a flurry of fabric, they discarded their clothing, tossing the garments to the floor with hasty abandon.
She lay on the satin sheets in only her silk garters and black stockings. He stood above her, stark naked, his hair tousled, and as powerfully virile as anything she could have imagined.
His jet-black pupils narrowed as he scanned the length of her near-naked body. His nostrils flared. His shaft stiffened, and her breath caught so deep within her throat she thought she would faint.
He sank in the bed next to her and gently pulled the emerald dragonfly combs from her hair, fingering the heavy ebony mass spilling across the satin pillows.
He reached for a thick strand and rubbed it between his fingers. “You’re so lovely.” He positioned himself above her, slowly inching down until his full body lay on top of her. “So very beautiful.”
The matt of curled hair on his chest tickled her breasts. Heated breath scorched her neck as his hard shaft pressed against her belly, making the yearning for him almost unbearable.
Derek kissed her hard, demanding, his strong hands roaming along her hips, her torso. He cupped a breast, kneading the sensitive skin and circling her pebbled, erect nipple.
He pulled from the seductive deep kiss and trailed his tongue down the slender column of her throat. Kissing her neck, his lips lingered at her racing pulse point before blazing a path to her breast. His tongue darted out, dancing like the devil around fire as he licked and sucked the sensitive skin and trapped a peak between his teeth.
A jolt of electricity seized her body, narrowing in on her moist, heated core. “Oh, Derek,” she moaned.
He slowly maneuvered his hand down her torso, stopping between the apex of her legs. Firm fingertips dug like claws into the flesh of her inner thighs, and just as she cried out, he slid a finger inside, silencing her.
“You’re so wet,” he whispered against her throat, “so very ready.”
His voice. His touch. It all felt familiar, yet so far away, like an old dream she couldn’t remember the longer time passed. The music rose to a fevered pitch; squeaky violins shrieked, and fingertips pounded on the organ, echoing across the tall ceilings. She closed her eyes as sounds of nearby laughter, panting, and growling reverberated inside her head.
“Make love to me, Derek,” she said, the words floating from her mouth as if someone else had spoken them.
He inhaled jagged breaths against her throat. Slowly, he positioned himself so that the tip of his shaft sat at her moist entrance.
“Are you sure? There’s no turning back after this,” he whispered.
She answered with a nod and squirm of her bottom, wetting the smooth tip of his manhood.
In one single plunge, he went deep, so deep she gripped the post of the bed and cried out, her sounds of pleasure instantly extinguished by the frantic music growing increasingly louder. Pouring rain pelted the closed window, and pounding fists hammered from somewhere outside the bedroom walls, merging with eerie echoes of hissing and laughter.
He slid within her depths, riding with her, against her. She cast her gaze toward the firelight scratching the dark walls and ceiling like twisted, deformed fingers.
He plunged deeper, his hips moving with precision, faster, harder, the pounding on the walls echoing inside her head.
“Derek.” She moaned, breathless with yearning, drawing closer to the edge of sweet release.
“Erin. My sweet, sweet angel,” he whispered against her ear.
He wrapped his hands in her hair and swept her into a deep kiss. His limbs tightened, and the last thing Erin saw was a blast of blinding white light as they climaxed together, their sounds of passion drowned out by the storm and the frenzied echoes coming from all directions within the large house.
The music stopped dead; the sounds from the nearby rooms instantly silenced.
They lay wrapped in each other’s arms, legs tangled in a puzzle so familiar it frightened her. She tugged the coverlet to her chest and looked in his eyes. “God help me, Derek. I hardly know you.”
Darkness crept into the bottomless depths of his eyes. He sighed and pulled her against his chest, gentle fingers slowly combing her tangled hair.
Drifting to sleep, enveloped in Derek’s strong arms, she gazed through half-closed lids at the emerald dragonfly combs perched on the night table, winking like mischievous dancing fireflies.
Chapter Five
France
“Derrrrreck . . .”
The brilliant light ahead beckoned, but I was being led back, gently pulled into a swirl of somber gray mist, obscure images, low humming voices, and throbbing pain.
“Derek, come back. Come back to me.”
I tried to focus on the familiar whisper. “Ersule.”
“’Tis I. Breathe, my love. Breathe.”
Fighting the pain seizing my chest and the overwhelming need to gag, I suddenly gasped and drew air deep within my constricted lungs.
“Yes, my love. That’s it. Breathe.”
An apparition shrouded in a graceful glow came into focus. She was standing over me in a white dress, smiling, her green eyes glistening like moist emeralds.
“Ersule, my angel,” I whispered through parched lips. I tried to reach up, to touch her lovely pale face gleaming down at me, but my arms would not move.
The aroma of rose-scented hair, dried in the summer sunshine, lingered in my nostrils as she slowly drifted away, floating like a delicate feather in a gentle wind, her image fading into the harsh backdrop of unforgiving stone walls.
“You must live, my love. You must stay strong, for us,” her dreamy voice called.
You must stay strong for us. I watched as her waning image slowly disappeared with a gentle gust of summer air wafting through the open window.
“Ersule. Ersule, do not leave me.”
Something icy cold was placed over my forehead and eyes.
“Hold on. Hold on, King,” whispered a familiar voice.
I squinted my covered eyes, but even such a small task was more than I could physically bear. A long sigh above me filled my icy blackness.
“The purple is fading, and the fever has broken. You are going to live, King,” said the gentle, reassuring voice of Gregore.
I inhaled deeply. Then again, forcing vital air into my weakened lungs, just as Ersule had asked.
“Ersule.”
Gregore whispered against my ear, “What is that you say?”
“She … she was here.”
“Rest, you must rest, my King.”
A steady hum of low chatter filled my ears before I fell into the empty darkness of overwhelming exhaustion.
Contrary to folklore, we Weres were vulnerable creatures. While immortality was possible, in a harsh, unpredictable, world, there were no guarantees. As fate would have it, another wave of the Black Death, the vile illness that had scoured the continent many years before, resurfaced. I was the first to fall prey inside the secluded stone house in the wooded Vosges Mountains. One by one, the disease ravaged our human bodies. For those of us who survived the horrific ordeal, our inner beasts only grew stronger and more erratic.
Vividly green and rich with fir, pine, and spruce, the rounded summits of the Vosges held abundant prey. When our appetites called for more than the usual deer, wild boar, and fox, additional game was readily accessible in the lower landscape dotted with pastoral animals and unwary farmers.
One evening while drinking from a cool stream, I inhaled a scent that instantly made the fur along my back bristle. I ordered the pack upstream near the waterfalls, but they were quick in detecting the heavenly aroma. I yipped again, but the males bounded forth ahead of me, the seductive scent of females drawing their urgent attention. Before I knew it, I, too, was instantly spellbound and followed on their heels.
Edgar howled at the She wolves grouped before us in a circle of thick red fur, reeking with desire. Panting and weaving in a frenzied dance, his nails clicked against the crisp fallen leaves on the forest floor. His nostrils flared, his tail whipping about in a seductive dance worthy of tempting even the chilliest female Lycan.
Despite the excitement, the chill to my marrow warned me these were no ordinary wolves. For years I had heard stories about the Loup Garou, a near-extinct, ancient clan of French Weres. By all accounts, this band of Weres had been a formidable force of nature before the slaughter of their king, the mighty Beast of Gevaudan, who had terrorized South-Central France. The lucky members from the Loup Garou would have fled into the night, away from the royal huntsmen, nobles, and French army that sought to hunt them down. Like us, for survival, the remaining pack members would have quickly moved on.
A red-furred She wolf pranced haughtily before me with her tail held high. She wandered around me on hefty paws, assessing me, nostrils flaring, her suggestive brown eyes glowing deep amber. She lifted her snout and scratched the dirt in front of my paws.
Fear and desire flooded my wolf veins, making every movement feel as though my limbs were filled with sand. Within moments, instinct swelled within my loin, a detail not lost on the eager She posturing before me.
The She leaned forward and nuzzled my neck, affirming herself as the leader of her pack and that it was me she desired.
I turned toward Edgar. He mistook my questioning gaze as a sign of affirmation, suddenly yowling and mounting an agreeable She.
My gaze darted side to side, my nostrils flaring, searching for the competing scent that might free me from this powerful She threatening to unravel my lucid sensibilities. I lowered my snout, finding it most curious there were no rival males within our vicinity.
As though the She sensed my hesitation, she hunkered down, then pounced and bit into my neck, drawing blood. She bit down again, hard, snarling, making it clear that she was the Alpha of her pack and had laid claim.
There was no ignoring the Alpha, nor did the base, impious part of me want to. But something told me t
his particular She, who set her sights upon me right from the start, was not to be taken lightly.
I bared my teeth and bit into her hindquarter. She let out a mighty yowl. Her predatory eyes narrowed, boring into mine.
As soon as the Alpha presented herself to me once more, I mounted her. Holding her in place with my strong paws, I bit into her neck with razor-sharp teeth. She moaned and yapped with excited passion. With sounds I recognized as both man and beast, I slid inside her heated depths and stared at the towering moon slanting through the treetops as I poured my seed inside her.
A month later, while sealing the outside gaps between the rocks of our stone house, I heard something approaching from behind. Wiping my muddied hands upon my trousers, I turned.
“I must speak with you,” said Edgar, a solemn expression drawn upon his face.
I frowned and asked, “Is something wrong?”
After a long pause he said, “My future mate calls.”
I exhaled louder than expected, thankful it was nothing serious. Containing a smile, I explained to the romantic Were that a male need not commit to a mate unless he has chosen her. To my surprise, Edgar informed me that this particular Were, the She he had mounted in the woods a month earlier, was indeed the mate of his choosing.
“Her name is Charlotte,” he said.
“Edgar, dear Edgar. But you are not of the same clan.”
He sighed heavily and lowered his head.
I placed my hands on his wilted shoulders. “I know there are few to choose from these days, but is there not a female within our own pack to your liking?”
Edgar’s jawline pulsed. He turned to walk away. “I knew I should not have come.”
“Wait,” I said. “Don’t leave heartbroken.”
He lifted his expressive blue eyes to mine.
“Is it Charlotte who would join us, or the other way around? I will not part with you, Edgar, and not for one moment do I believe the Alpha would agree to Charlotte taking leave.”
