Fur, Fangs and All (The Elementals Book 2)

by Meredith Allen Conner

  They still didn’t know a lot about the customs of Weres.

  He didn’t remember reading anything about humans licking blood off of one another. Ah, but her blood . . . he shuddered, the taste of it still lingered on his tongue. So damn sweet and perfect.

  For the first time he understood the draw of blood to vampires. He didn’t want to bite her and suck her blood. Hell no. But tasting her, his mate, and drawing her essence into him, bonding them together on that most primitive level . . . he almost came at the thought.

  Mac slapped him on the shoulder. “Better mate with her soon,” he chuckled. “You’re not going to be much good in a fight in your condition.”

  Roc grunted. He adjusted himself. Good advice.

  That had to be it. He must have frightened her when he took care of her wounds. She wouldn’t know that Weres contained a healing balm in their saliva. Add to that, he’d been ready to mate her on the floor . . . he winced. Not my best move.

  He’d get her settled in his house, explain a few Were customs to her and then he’d take her to bed. After they mated, she’d lose her fear.

  After they mated . . . Roc turned towards the house, adjusting himself again and ignoring Mac’s laughter. He had to get Livie in his bed fast.

  ****

  Sela lowered the fire extinguisher. “You know, Liv, I can’t help but notice you’re not over the moon about your power being active.” She glanced sideways at Livie. “Or about Roc.”

  Livie flinched. She couldn’t help it. She did not want to have this discussion. She had better things to do. Like figure out her escape plan.

  She couldn’t wait until she was fully healed. Or until they found Rea. She had to get out of here. Immediately.

  “It’s awesome, Liv. Being able to control your Element.” Sela aimed the hose at a section of the ceiling where grey smoke intermittently puffed like a half burnt cigar. “It’s such a rush, having that much power.”

  Yeah, a rush of nausea.

  Livie pressed her lips together. She’d had a meltdown once already today, she didn’t need to do it again.

  “You saw what it was like in New Orleans,” her sister continued, swishing the hose back and forth. “I can hold my own and protect myself against the MIBs. Now you can too.”

  Sela liked to refer to the Order as MIBs, as in the movie “Men in Black.” Livie preferred “bastards” since that’s what they were – ruthless, fanatical bastards. Intent on capturing the sisters and using them, like bears in a circus.

  The bastards wanted their Elemental power.

  Livie didn’t want a thing to do with it. She certainly didn’t want it active.

  Sela zeroed in on another puff of smoke and let loose a vaporous stream. Livie swallowed thickly. She could have unintentionally hurt her sister. Her own flesh and blood.

  Sela took it all in stride, thrilled for her, while Livie simply struggled not to retch.

  Add to all of that, a werewolf wanted to claim her? She pressed a fist to her stomach. She needed some antacid fast.

  “Once you can control your Element, you’re gonna love it!” Sela had her back to Livie, so she didn’t see her grimace. Completely oblivious, Sela wielded the fire extinguisher with gusto. “And now that you and Roc are mates,” she winked suggestively over her shoulder, “you’ll love that too.”

  Livie glanced at a shadowy bruise on Sela’s neck. Despite becoming immortal, that mark never fully faded. All of Sela’s other injuries healed almost immediately these days. Just like the werewolves. But not that particular mark, not the spot where Mac bit her sister — with his fangs.

  She turned and stared fixedly at the jagged hole in the wall. Splinters of wood and crumbled drywall lined the uneven gaping spot. A section of stair railing peeked through the new interior window. Livie stared at the railing, concentrating on the dark wood until she was certain her stomach would not revolt.

  Hard hands encircled her waist. She stiffened. Her heart sped up until it threatened to burst from her chest. Him.

  The hands drew her back and back further. She wanted to pull away, but the strength in his grip said resistance was futile. She damned him with every ounce of her being. Physically she was no match. Emotionally she curled up into a tiny ball, denying everything that happened.

  Her back met his hard chest. The visible blades in her shoulders protested. She had a lot of weight to gain before she returned to her previous strength. The bullet in her side had not helped. And Roc’s firm chest pressed deliberately all along her back reinforcing her vulnerability.

  Leave me alone.

  “Mate,” he murmured in her ear. “It’s time for us to go.”

  Like hell I’m going anywhere with you.

  Livie pressed her hands over his. Knowing she wouldn’t be able to remove his hands, she still had to try. She gripped his wrists and tugged. She accomplished nothing and the weight of that knowledge formed like a lead ball in her stomach.

  “Lupa!”

  Livie swiveled her head to see Mac standing just inside the room. He tensed, as did the big body behind her. She had the fleeting thought that they reminded her of a National Geographic show she once watched on predators, right before they attacked.

  Sela turned towards them, fire extinguisher dangling from her hand. Her eyes lit up at the sight of Mac. Livie closed hers.

  She jerked them back open at an ominous rumble. She had time to observe a large object hurtling across the room before the arms around her tightened, she was lifted and the room spun in a crazy circle.

  An enormous crash echoed behind her.

  Panting, Livie twisted in the massive arms that held her securely. Through a cloud of dust, she could see her sister held high in Mac’s arms on the other side of the room.

  A large section of the ceiling now lay on the floor.

  Livie stared at the smoking pieces of wood on the floor.

  She’d done that.

  She had nearly hurt her sister with her Element.

  She couldn’t contain it anymore. She bent forward and spewed all over a pair of large, dark leather boots.

  Chapter Five

  She would have to kill him.

  If she killed him, her power would go away. He had sparked it, so it made sense that once he was gone, her power would go away as well.

  And once he was gone – permanently – he could no longer disturb her with his presence. She would no longer be his mate, because he would not be around.

  At any other time, she would be appalled at her plans. Right now, she couldn’t wait to put them in place.

  A door slammed somewhere in the house. In his house. She stood in the center of his living room, surrounded by large dark leather pieces of manly furniture. Plush throw pillows in earthy colors softened the furniture and invited a person to sit. With its warm walls and casual feel, the room appealed to her.

  Livie tuned it out. She had almost put up a fight – more like an absolute hissy fit – when he announced they were leaving to come here. True, Mac’s house was not safe to live in right now. That in no way translated to: she should move in with him.

  She’d firmed her spine, ready to tell him where to get off when she saw the sword lying in the corner. It hit her with all the subtlety of a semi-truck.

  She could cut his head off.

  Livie swallowed repeatedly until her stomach calmed down. She bit her lip. She could do it.

  It was the only way to kill a werewolf.

  All she had to do was find a sword.

  Her mother had died in the same manner. She clutched her arms around her stomach and squeezed her eyes tight. She hadn’t known. Sela told her a few weeks ago. Sela knew since she had been there, witness to the horror of it all.

  For Livie, that knowledge had been the final straw. Near the end of her rope with the constant running, that information put her over. She could not deal with this stuff anymore. Any of it. And now her power was active.

  Livie firmed her shoulders. She could do this. She
would do this.

  She would free herself from all of this insanity with one well aimed blow.

  Firm footsteps headed down the stairs and into the living room where Livie stood. She didn’t turn around. A tiny shiver ran down her spine, she dug her fingers into her sides until it hurt.

  Cheeze-its, I can feel him.

  He stood near her, yes, but he didn’t touch her. And yet she could feel his presence like a heavy blanket as if he were somehow a part of her.

  She shook it off. It was her imagination. She didn’t have feelings for him. She didn’t know him. She didn’t want to know him. He was an animal.

  “Are you feeling better?” he asked.

  She nodded. Out of the corner of her eye she saw he had changed into a pair of black leather boots and put on clean blue jeans.

  Red flags of heat climbed up her neck and into her cheeks.

  Warm hands slid up her arms and cupped her shoulders. She froze like a small animal wary of attack. He squeezed and rubbed for a moment, then skimmed her collarbone until his hands came to rest on her neck. His thumbs pressed into her nape while his fingers drew soft circles over her thudding pulse.

  A little zing traveled through her body, down to her lower stomach. I’m just nervous, that’s all.

  Deliberately she focused on his shirt. He’d made a complete wardrobe change. He now wore a dark red, cotton pull-over. She’d forgotten that she cut him with her knife. She peeked at the spot. Had it hurt him?

  Ah! Who cares? I’m going to kill him.

  She could do this.

  He’s an animal. A beast with fangs and claws and fur. Once he’s gone, I can go back to my life. No more power.

  She ignored the voice that whispered — what life?

  A life on the run may not be much, but it had to be better than one filled with werewolves. Didn’t it?

  She clenched her fists. She would do this.

  He let go of her throat and encircled her wrists, smoothing her hands out. “What are you afraid of?”

  Everything.

  Livie stepped back, pulling on her hands, silently demanding that he let go. Instead, he tugged hard. Off balance, and unprepared for his move, she stumbled forward. She rammed headfirst into his chest, only his arms around her back prevented her from falling. His shirt muffled her gasp.

  For a brief moment, her cheek rested right over his heart. The forceful pounding filled her ear. His hand stroked her back.

  She hadn’t been held like this in a long time.

  Her throat tightened, threatening to cut off her air. She swallowed hard and began choking. Immediately he pounded on her back.

  “Mate, are you okay?”

  That one word subdued her choking like it never happened.

  “I’m fine,” she said. “You can let me go now.”

  Surprisingly, he did. Still not looking him in the eye, she turned. “My name is not mate. It’s Olivia. Livie.” She tried to contain her anger, but her words practically bounced off the walls.

  He moved closer, intruding upon her personal space, warming her back with his heat. This man was not intimidated by her anger. She wondered if he was afraid of anything.

  “I know,” he soothed. “I know your name. You can’t imagine what it means to have finally found you.” Did his fingers stroke her hair? “I want to howl it to the moon.”

  She shuddered and practically ran to the other side of the room. She couldn’t listen to him. She didn’t want to know how happy he was, how happy she alone made him, when she planned to murder him in a few hours.

  I will do this.

  “Ma . . . ah, Livie?”

  He hadn’t moved, other than a subtle shifting of his body. Head slightly cocked, he waited and watched her intently. Since the only door into the room loomed behind him, he obviously didn’t worry that she had been trying to escape.

  Clenching her fists and trying desperately to gain some semblance of control over her rioting emotions, Livie scowled at him. She wondered what he saw when he looked at her? The woman of his dreams? Or the messed up woman on the verge of a break down?

  It didn’t matter. She shut her eyes. His thoughts did not matter to her. Nothing about him did. It had to be this way.

  “Tell me,” he urged softly. “I can see your pain. Tell me and I’ll help you.”

  “No!” She denied him and the voice that whispered she didn’t have to do this.

  “I’m fine.” She lied. “I’m tired. I just want to rest.” Heat lit his eyes. “Alone,” she said swiftly.

  He frowned, clearly wanting to argue with her. She held her breath. If he decided to keep talking, she couldn’t go anywhere. There was no getting past him unless he let her.

  Finally, he sighed. He stepped to one side and motioned with his hand. “All right. I’ll show you where you can rest.”

  Livie relaxed. She started for the door, making certain that the path she took kept her as far away from him as possible. She glanced at the door, gasped. She could see the large doorframe easily now without his massive body blocking her view. Directly above, cradled on two stout pegs, lay a long, gleaming sword.

  She nearly stumbled.

  He tensed. His arm shot out to keep her behind him, ears twitching as he scented the air. Slowly his muscles loosened, he turned towards her frowning. He raised his brows.

  Livie gulped. “Nothing. I . . . it’s nothing.”

  He shrugged and motioned with his arm again. He probably thought she was crazy. Better that than a murderer.

  ****

  Roc gripped the doorknob tightly in his fist. He could hear his ma . . . ah, Livie moving around in the bedroom. Everything in him urged him to go into the room and take her. Make her his in the most fundamental way possible.

  His beast snarled, scenting his mate just on the other side of the solid door. He wanted to mark her with his scent, to put his claim on her.

  It was killing him to hold off.

  In fact, he didn’t know how long he truly could wait. The urge to mate with her was nearly overwhelming. But almost as strong was the longing to soothe her and protect her.

  From what he still did not know.

  When he tried to get her to talk about it earlier, her fear became almost tangible. He could taste it. Her too thin body trembled with it.

  She reminded him of a fragile thread, stretched to its limit. One more tug and she would break.

  He had been born to protect her and to mate with her.

  Werewolves were simple creatures, closely linked to their primitive natures. Like any top predator, they were born and bred to find their mates and continue the species. To mate and protect, and once they had pups, to protect them as well.

  Livie had him caught in a tug of war with both sides of his nature.

  His beast wanted to pounce and simply take her. After he staked his claim, she would understand that she was his and her fear would go away, but every time he got close to her the smell of her fear held him off.

  He’d searched for her for so long, surely he could wait another day or so for her to overcome her worries?

  He glanced down at the obvious erection in his jeans. He might spontaneously combust before then. Still, he didn’t want their first time together to be overshadowed with her panic. It should be perfect.

  Like the scenarios described in his magazines — roses and chocolates perfect.

  Roc eased his hand away from the handle. He touched the tips of his fingers to the solid wood, wishing it was her soft skin under his touch.

  A faint inner tug had his beast ready to howl. He didn’t have to look out a window to know sunset approached. Full moon tonight. The time when his beast was at its strongest. It would require all of his strength to control that side with Livie in his house.

  He’d find a way. Want it to be right.

  He headed down the stairs. If he remembered correctly, there had been an article a few months back detailing the perfect seduction. He might need to make a list.

 
His beast growled and whined at the loss of her immediate scent. He reeled him in.

  Patience.

  Their first time had to be perfect.

  Chapter Six

  Livie cautiously eased open the door. Well-oiled hinges swung silently inward. Bright moonlight flooded the room. She paused, afraid to breathe.

  He didn’t move.

  She crept into the room.

  She held the sword at a slight angle from her body. The hilt clasped in a white knuckled grip. Her stomach churned.

  When she reached the edge of his bed, she stopped. He lay sprawled on his back across the mattress, wearing only a pair of long, tight boxer shorts, no covers anywhere to be seen. His face relaxed, chest rising and falling in a regular rhythm.

  The silvery light of the moon caressed his skin, highlighting the thick pelt of hair – fur? – that covered the heavy mass of muscle stretching across his chest. Even while sleeping, his muscles remained hard, biceps bulging, pectorals prominent and firm ripples riding down his stomach to the top of his boxers.

  Has he grown in the last few hours?

  Livie shook it off. She’d come here to kill him, not view his defenseless body.

  Defenseless? Yeah, right.

  So, he looked innocent while sleeping? He could still rip her head off in half a second. He might look peaceful and vulnerable at the moment, but she was not about to get suckered in.

  Without her permission, her eyes continued their journey South . . . Livie bit back the gasp right before it escaped.

  How can he sleep like that? Isn’t that painful? Or at least uncomfortable?

  A very sizable erection pushed firmly against his boxers.

  She swallowed hard.

  He was large enough that the waistband of his boxers did not lie smoothly. A gap disturbed the elastic, right at the solid tip of his erection.

  Cheeze-its.

  She closed her eyes. Sela had told her that Mac was well endowed. It looked like that ran true to all werewolves. And he wanted to mate with her? Put that enormous thing inside her? He’d rip her in half.