by Scott, Talyn
“South Beach?” She shook her head. “Nooo.” Dropping her hand from her forehead, she placed it against his chest, pushing. “I live in Fort Myers, remember?”
“You told me you signed your divorce papers today,” he insisted
“Sure, I s-suppose I did.” Boy, she was wasted. Dumb move, Mol. “Yeah, signed divorce papers…right.” Because Jayce Jordan made it happen. “I’ll be honest.” Her legs started to tremble. “We just met. And…I wanted a night, you know?” A night to pretend she was someone else, detachment in all its glory. “I-I cannot even remember your name.”
“Before the sun rises, my name will sear your throat.” Eyes flashing with a feral determination and an eerie strangeness, he purred, “I can keep you in a way you are accustomed.”
Her head dropped back when he leaned down, kissing a trail across her shoulder. Molly’s lips parted, a desperate moan nearly escaping. “We’ll start with one night, okay? R-right now, I want to leave with you. Tomorrow,” she explained, staring over his shoulder and thinking she saw someone familiar, “no promises.”
“If I have only one night with you, we’d better start it now.”
A sharper pain hit her neck, followed by a foreboding sensation. Then, salt air met her face. Sand was suddenly at her back, his body’s weight pressing against her core. “W-where are we?” Two seconds ago, they were dancing inside The Blue Pelican. “Something funny’s g-going on…I didn’t drink that much. T-tell,” she stammered as he licked the pain from her throat, with a tongue that felt so right. His hands moved restlessly over her skin, learning her. A thick knee wedged between her thighs, pushing up her skirt. Two fingers slipped inside her panties. His breathing turned raw, desperate, or was that hers? “I need this,” she whispered through a myriad of sensations. “I need you.”
“Name it,” he whispered. “Shall I tie you up and spank you?” His voice dropped a salacious octave. “Love you lazily throughout the night or split you wide with a swift, hard fucking?”
“A swift hard fookin’ on the sand, you say? I’d have to see that one for myself,” a thunderous, rolling burr sounded from right above them. “Though I’m thinkin’ the whole thing sounds a wee bit abrasive. But you Americans are a strange lot, aren’t you?”
“I’m not American,” he hissed back.
“You see, that statement was entirely rhetorical,” Heath admitted. “A habit I’ve picked up since startin’ this American adventure - askin’ for effect without expectin’ an answer.” If it weren’t for the fresh Druid ink Gage had just blessed Heath with, there would be one less vampire in the world. Still, he sent his compulsion Molly’s way, rendering her instantly unconscious, just in case the situation escalated. “You have three seconds.” Or inherent territorialism will be the death of you. “And don’t think to come back.” A step closer. “Near her.” Yet another step closer. “Again.”
While slowly removing his fingers from Molly’s panties, the vampire turned to Heath and smiled in the way vampires do, with cold malice and someone’s blood on their teeth. Unfortunately, tonight’s blood belonged to Molly.
Rune Arud moved in behind Molly and the filth atop her. His brother Terje, who looked nearly identical to their brother Arian, placed one steadying hand on Heath’s shoulder. Terje spoke evenly, though Heath heard the dangerous undercurrent of a Norwegian Were in his tone, “I warned you at the bar, leech.”
“I don’t recall any warning.” The vampire brought two glistening fingers to his mouth, licking them clean, and then smacked his lips when he finished. “But that’s fine,” he said unfazed. “Only two things I can drink, and I have just now enjoyed both. She was gorgeous and willing. I was thirsty and able. Though I would rather finish what we started, I will leave.” He stood up and reached out to gather Molly in his arms. Whether he was being chivalrous or simply rubbing it in, Heath wasn’t sure, but his werewolf emitted a low warning growl that the vampire could hear and understand. Quickly, Rune interceded and brought Molly’s wee body protectively against his. He tugged down her skirt and hid the scrap of lace that covered what belonged to Heath. With a mocking salute, the vampire misted away.
Terje raised a golden brown at Heath. “Problem solved?
Heath raised a dark one back. “Not hardly.” Both werewolves were thinking the same thing. Even though this particular patch of sand, Lighthouse Beach, was open to the public, and the leech had misted Molly quite a ways from The Blue Pelican, why would this vampire or any other dare to feed on Sanibel Island?
“Was he that stupid?” asked Terje. “Or sending a message?”
Heath’s hands curled at his sides. “On the first day that my mate is unattached to her human, a vampire bites her throat. I will take it as a message.”
“Bane is in Miami with Jayce and Bren.” Terje explained. “I’ll phone Arian and give him a heads up. As long as Dru is home from work, Arian will leave Renee and come for Molly. Don’t worry, Highlander, we’ll watch over her.”
Tribal law was tribal law, and the hierarchy of the werewolf stated that any unclaimed female was under the protection of her closest male relatives. Old fashioned? Yes, though it was very necessary in the darkly potent immortal world. Luckily, there were several prominent males protecting Molly, one of which was the Alpha of North America himself. When in the process of claiming their females, most prospective males would find this intimidating, but not Heath. He grew up in the fourteenth century, his father was then laird and Alpha of his clan, therefore, Heath only found comfort in power so long as it didn’t belong to vampires. And since vampires were circling his mate, he had a serious problem. “I don’t want to leave her yet.”
“Are you sure?”
Thinking of the sexual torment he was about to put himself through, Heath sighed. “Aye, I’m sure.”
Chapter Three
“I watched Molly down a few drinks,” Terje explained, “but not enough to cause such marked inebriation, so I suspect…”
“The leech coerced her,” Heath finished in a low voice, his erection now painful against his zipper. Seeing another male touching and tasting what was his caused quite a surge of savage jealousy. He wondered how he could tame something he had never once felt, something so harshly compelling and vindictively taunting and so… very, very dangerous.
“Coercion? Not from what I saw, or I would have intervened the second time they hit the dance floor.”
“Dancin’?” he growled. “Aye, the leeches enjoy their pretense of romance.” Oh, Heath didn’t need that image flashing across his mind, Molly’s lush body swaying against the vampire’s to some ridiculous, human love ditty. “So you’re sayin’ she simply became enamored by his good looks and charm.” Vampires were beautiful, could get just about anything from humans without the aid of mind tricks. Heath could not deny their potency, but he could make sure the one that just left met with immortal fire and then a mostly-human Molly would never desire to look upon him again.
Terje shifted, his big feet pushing at the sand. “Well, maybe his physicality charmed her. But you have to know - She asked the vampire for one night of, uh, release. Molly’s Heat has escalated since this morning. Maybe it’s nature’s way, since she’s now legally unattached. But any immortal can scent her. It’s not a secret, you know, how wild and needy our females get when they’ve reached this, um, point.”
And Heath couldn’t accurately gauge her need due to his Druid Tattoos. Therefore, the very tattoos that were preventing him from claiming her were preventing him from smelling the degree of her Heat. “You’re sayin’ she’s in dire need of a male.”
“Not that I want to die by your hands tonight, but I have to tell you.” Terje rolled the tension from his shoulders. “I can barely tamp my werewolf. Whether or not she’s mine, I haven’t a clue, haven’t scented her climax, but that doesn’t matter to my Beast when it knows…”
When it knows how a female in Heat can accept the full size of a werewolf’s sex and the power of its thrusts as no mere mortal
could. If a werewolf were lucky enough to find a female in Molly’s condition, he could release the essence of his Beast and enjoy a night of unequaled, primal fucking. Since any female werewolf was a rarity in their world, males tended to circle around those who were unclaimed, chiefly if they were suffering with Heat, with need. Somehow, Heath had to ease Molly without yet claiming her. But how?
Heath sighed heavily. “And since Gage left her securely at The Blue Pelican, at the Pack’s main compound…”
“Several of our males have scented her, are circling her.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” In a way, so was Heath. He wanted time to court Molly properly, in the way of his time, so his mate could know what she meant to him, how important she was. “You cannot be sorry for the way of things, tis nature. And I want her to have at least one other male besides myself. Sharing a female with co-mates blesses her with more protection from our dangerous world and more satiation during bed play.”
Terje looked relieved. “It’s good you see it that way, Highlander, cause I think the other Pack males will be expecting their chances to claim her soon.”
“Then I don’t have much time to convince Molly to change her lifestyle.” Heath could only hope for her cooperation. He may have been jealous over the vampire, but Heath would never discourage another true co-mate away from his female, would never be resentful of another werewolf. In fact, his dick grew impossibly harder upon that thought, of Molly on her knees in front of another co-mate, while he watched and stroked himself to orgasm. When his cock throbbed nigh violently, he knew he was just as desperate for release as she was.
Heath cocked his head, smelling the Beta bloodline. “I hear a vehicle.”
“Mason Ruyter just dropped off my truck.” Rune tilted his head toward the adjacent parking lot. “Driving will be easier than running her through the marsh.”
With his keen vision, Heath searched the lighthouse for signs of humans, inhaling sharply for any other telltale threats of immortals. He watched Mason Ruyter mist toward Fort Myers. Knowing Bane’s brother would not leave if he sensed any danger, Heath declared, “Tis clear.” He drew in a steadying breath, but it didn’t help, not with his aching cock and his agitated Beast. “Let’s move.”
Rune extended his arms, offering him Molly’s still unconscious body. Heath brought her to him and gripped her as tightly as possible without crunching her delicate, mostly human bones. The feel of her against him was nothing short of exhilarating. His werewolf, though tamed by the Druid tattoos, was utterly enthralled to be carrying his mate protectively.
Without breaking stride, they reached Mason’s idling truck. Rune jumped inside the truck bed and Terje climbed into the passenger’s seat. “Find those security harnesses for her,” Heath said as he slid behind the wheel.
“Seatbelts?” Terje cocked a disbelieving brow.
“She’s not yet immortal.” He was already pulling the truck onto the main drive. It was strange, worrying over car accidents. Something Heath had never once concerned himself over, but he had to now. “Did you find them?”
“Yeah.” Terje pulled them out and made a face.
With a sidelong glance, Heath spotted the black belts shredded by Terje’s claws.
“They won’t do a bit of good shredded.”
Terje pulled them off his claws. “Well then, shall I hold her nice and tight, Highlander?”
“Do so,” Heath agreed easily. The Viking sniffed the top of Molly’s hair, and Heath did not have to see the lad’s eyes to know they were rolling in his head. The scent of a female in the throes of her Heat was the epitome of carnal divinity. Was there anything better? Aye. Fucking the female while in the throes of her Heat would be far better, and he intended to do just that very soon, which would be a first for him. The thought of her clenching on his erection, milking it in the way of the female werewolf, made him groan aloud.
“Those tattoos holding up for you, Highlander,” Terje asked, his nose buried in the crook of Molly’s neck, though his hands kept a respectable hold on her body.
“Better than nothin’, I suppose.” The marks Gage had to reapply on a weekly basis were the only things preventing Heath’s Beast from asserting itself by claiming his female. Until today, Molly had been a married human. Yet he asked Gage to continue the ink, since his female needed time to get used to his touch, to become accustomed to her true heritage. “Of course, with every stress the spell wears away.”
“And a vampire tasting your female…”
“Lowered the spell’s potency considerably,” admitted Heath, rolling his neck as he drove through the causeway’s intersection.
“I’ll admit that my family never used any Druidry to speak of, our Norwegian magic is quite different.” It rolled under their skin with specific, roving glyphs. “But what I do know is that if you keep applying those spells, they will counteract the very half of your soul.”
“With each application, I risk losing Molly forever. This, I know.” Since the spell kept his Beast at bay, overdoing it might turn his werewolf away forever. An important fact that also had Gage and Molly’s brothers-n-law concerned. So he was running out of time, had to act quickly.
“Problem is; if you don’t relieve her Heat tonight, she’ll be drawing more than werewolves and a vampire or two. The shapeshifters will come for her, and the ones who are part werewolf will be salivating as much as we are.”
“Let me guess, you’re offering to help so that I don’t drain what’s left of my spell.”
“It’ll be a hard job,” Terje groaned when Molly shifted, tossing her arm across his shoulder, “but I’m up for the task, especially if she keeps wiggling like that.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’re up for it.” With yet another heavy sigh, Heath skirted the side drive that led to the main compound behind The Blue Pelican and veered into a secret path where the Sanibel younglings partied on their homemade agave brew. Only a few lingered around, all of them full werewolves, not a shifter or shifter mix in sight. He threw it in park and tapped the steering wheel in agitation.
Rune jumped down from the truck bed and opened Heath’s door. “Stopping while Molly smells like that is not the best of ideas, Highlander.”
Heath stepped out, glancing at the gathering of younglings. All were between the ages of nineteen and twenty-two, with their faces contorting into savage hunger. “Go back to what you were doing,” he ordered them. After a long second, the younglings reluctantly dispersed. To Rune, he said, “In all my years, I’ve had no experience with this. How many orgasms do you think Molly needs to suppress her Heat?”
He scratched his blond head. “Weird, I’ve never before heard that discussion. Shall I phone my brother? Arian will know for sure.”
“Just sate her once and see if it works,” Terje hissed from across the cab of the truck, pulling Molly’s hands from around his neck and then gently gripping her wrists. “In your agitation, Heath, you are losing your compulsion for her to stay unconscious and she’s grinding on me like a purring kitty.” He closed his eyes briefly. “Fuck, I’m brick hard!”
“Terje’s right. Just do something, Highlander,” Rune pressed. “She’s calling danger to herself. And even if you only give her one orgasm, it may still work for a while. From what I smell, she hasn’t had a male in ages. No scent of sperm anywhere on her body, and that’s just sad, makes me want to kick her ex’s head right off his mortal shoulders.”
“Heath?” Molly whispered with her eyes still closed. “Is that you or just another dream?”
“Oh, she’s having the dream,” Terje whispered, the truck cab quickly filling with her tantalizing aroma. “Intoxicating.” His hand shakily brushed Molly’s hair from her forehead.
Mason Ruyter misted in, his eyes scanning the scene. “I’ve warned off three shifters and had an altercation with the fourth. Can’t you stave off her Heat?”
“She’s in a haze,” Heath answered with exasperation. “I had to coerce her to forget the vampire m
isting her.” He scrubbed his face with a wearying hand. “She thinks she’s dreaming.”
“Wake her up!” Mason’s violet eyes bugged out of his head. “Bane’s gonna kill me if something happens to Molly! I smell more shifters on the outskirts of Captiva Island,” Mason growled. “At least four, do you want them after her?”
“I can smell them.” Hastily, Heath took Molly and brought her to the outside of the truck. “Tailgate,” he bit out to Rune. Carrying her around back as Rune dropped the truck’s tailgate. “Shirts.” Rune and Mason pulled off their shirts and placed them on the cold metal of the truck. It would have to do. “Molly, wake up,” he whispered, coaxing her mind to consciousness.
“Heath,” she said, looking around at the trees and the moon. The other werewolves made sure they were out of her line of sight. “What’s going on?”
He hated telling even a partial lie to his beloved mate, but he hadn’t a choice. “You got totally bombed at The Blue Pelican, left with a complete stranger -”
“Stranger?” she gasped, her brows drawing together.
“Well, do you remember his name?”
“No.”
“Then he’s a stranger, lass”
“I also don’t remember drinking that much.”
He sighed. “Most alcoholics don’t.”
Her eyes lit up like twin flames. “I’m not an alcoholic.”
“Denial won’t heal you.”
She pushed at his chest. “That’s enough.”
“Not nearly.” He leaned in, trailing kisses down her throat. She moaned, arching her back and clutching at his hair. Then Heath heard Mason unzip his pants with a whispered groan. As some were scentless, Heath glanced around to check for shifters because his supposed guards were preoccupied with taking themselves in hand.
Since things appeared calm around the perimeter, he murmured to Molly, “Luckily, I was takin’ a stroll on Lighthouse Beach and found you in the throes with this stranger.” He twirled his tongue against the shell of her ear, making her tremble for his next touch. “I didn’t like what I saw.” She wrapped her legs around his hips, so he pulled her panties to the side, brushing his knuckles up and down her sodden cleft.
