by Dee Carney
Lucy kept moving, face grim. She threw her arm high, then whirled, striking out to tag him at the last second. Her reach fell short, however. Victor punched out, tapping her with his fingertips. “You’re dead,” he said when he made contact.
Lucy grunted a rude noise. If anything, his comments added to her determination. She punched out twice more, each attempt more vicious than the last. Victor found himself backing up to get out of the way.
She looked so pleased with herself at his retreat that he cursed, deciding to teach her a lesson. Before she could catch her breath, Victor swiped at her two times. Although he kept his touches light, it wouldn’t surprise him if she ended up with a small bruise there and there. He’d gone through similar and worse during his training, and maybe this would be one way she took what they did very seriously.
Lucy countered, her elbow ramming backward and almost brushing his arm. He slapped it away, using his body to shove Lucy to the ground. She twisted awkwardly, arms windmilling to maintain balance.
Suddenly regretting the force he’d used, Victor reached out, trying to help stabilize her before she fell. As she stumbled, her makeshift stake stabbed upward toward him.
A sharp but sudden pain flared from the side of his neck, his nerves rioting in protest.
Damn.
She’d made contact.
Chapter Seven
The stricken look on Victor’s face was her only clue something had changed, because she’d been on the move.
Lucy whirled again, pain radiating out with every breath, her heart racing and lungs burning, but she knew she wanted more than her next meal to tag Victor and show him she could do this. She could do this.
But then his eyes had widened...
“Lucy.”
Blood roared in her ears, the rush of fighting him a boost to the ego. She flipped the stick, prepared to jab it against his leg maybe this time. He hadn’t said where she had to tag him. Hell, she’d be pleased as punch if the thing managed to stab him in the foot. Whatever it took.
Her muscles screamed as she stretched them, lunging toward his face with her free hand, but then swiping down with her stake. Victor stepped away from her attempt with hardly any effort, while Lucy felt like she’d just stepped out of a shower. Sweat poured down her face and neck, saturating her T-shirt. She’d give her queendom for a single tie for her clinging hair.
“Lucy,” he snapped. “Wait...damn it...”
She was so flipping tired, and Victor could have gotten out of bed ten minutes ago. Someone had replaced her arms with twenty-pound dumbbells. With every breath, she wanted to crawl into bed and never leave it again.
But she had to do this. Had to. Unless body parts started falling off, she’d fight until she collapsed.
Victor grabbed her by the wrist, and she went wild. Flailing and kicking. Anything to keep him from immobilizing her. As much as she struggled though, she couldn’t shake him.
Tears of frustration welled in her eyes, but Lucy didn’t stop.
He yanked her toward him, and she collided into him, her back to his front. Although she brought down a fist to smash his testicles in, he grabbed it before she could deliver. Victor tucked his chin against her hair, holding her in a tight grip with hands and body. “Listen,” he whispered harshly. “Stop fighting me and listen. You did it.”
She’d been a moment away from attempting to break free when his message broadsided her. Breathing hard, blinking the sweat out of her eyes, she went still. “What?”
“You were such a spitfire that you have no idea, do you? Your stake got me. You tagged me against my neck.”
Lucy wanted to collapse against him. “I won?” She had to ask again, because although her ears heard the words, her mind still couldn’t quite process them. “You’re dead?”
“Let’s not get too hasty,” Victor replied, amusement infusing his words. “You tagged me, which in this case means you won. Your reward is a long rest tonight.”
“And a kiss,” she whispered.
“And a kiss.” A low growl.
She couldn’t help herself. Lucy sagged against him, ultimate relief the only thing keeping her upright. No...
Relief and Victor. He’d kept her in the comforting fold of his arms, the warmth of his body wrapping around her. Although she’d stopped flailing, for whatever reason, Victor held on.
It gave her a moment to luxuriate in the feel of his skin, the hard places of his body solid and strong. It seemed natural to want to rub her fingers over his flesh and let the fine hair on his forearms tickle her.
Without conscious thought, she canted her head to the side. She didn’t stop until she rested it against his shoulder, the long line of her carotid exposed. Victor took advantage, sweeping his lips along the rapid pulse. A shiver ran through her.
For the last several years of her life, the touch of another there would send her into a paroxysm of fear. Tonight, however, when her heart began to race, it wasn’t the typical despair flooding her emotions.
She wanted to turn her lips up to him, to claim the kiss she’d earned, but a frisson of apprehension nudged her. What happened when one—or both—of them wanted more?
Victor wasn’t what she was used to, and she didn’t know if she’d be able to handle his ardor. The men and women she’d been given to had been demanding but delicate in their bites and touches.
Victor, with his rugged masculinity, would make physical demands. He would take and possess her. Own her every gasp and moan. His power would annihilate her thoughts until she was nothing more than a vessel of feeling and sensation. Lucy didn’t know if she could survive it.
What would it be like to kiss this man? Awkward? Passive?
Passionate?
“Now?” she asked, eyes closed. She couldn’t stand this. Couldn’t stand the utter desire she had for this man who wanted her for nothing more than her body.
He let out a rough sound against her over-sensitized skin. “In a rush?”
Her cheeks flooded with scalding heat. “No...I just...I just don’t know the protocol for something like this.”
“Why does there have to be a protocol? Hasn’t anyone ever given you a choice before?”
Pondering didn’t take long. Lucy shook her head, ignoring the fact that Victor hadn’t released her and she didn’t wriggle out of his hold. “The life of a blood slave is about being directed toward the vampire’s needs and wants. I had no will of my own. Just his or hers.”
“Then it’s about time that you decide when you should do something and how you do it.”
Deep inside, she struggled with conflicting emotions. She knew this would mean nothing to him. Knew once the contract ended, she’d never see him again. Knew forming an attachment to him was stupid and would only end in heartbreak.
But dear God, she wanted Victor.
“I should go inside. Get cleaned up.” The words almost broke her to say.
He let her go immediately as if scalded, and the loss of him threatened to strip her bare. Once released, she recognized that he’d been affected by their proximity as well, his erection no longer pressing against her backside.
She turned to face him, heart racing, the urge to ask him to take her back a moment from tumbling from her lips. Looking into his turbulent eyes, she understood that it would only take a suggestion from her, a whispered word, and he’d engulf her in his lust.
Lucy’s gaze swept over his mouth, admired the way his bottom lip naturally pouted, and she wanted to press hers to his. Regardless of what it would feel like to kiss him, his disfigurement influencing what would happen, she anticipated his touch. Too much perhaps.
She nodded and left him standing there. The heat of his gaze searing into her back.
As she walked away, she wondered again how she’d gotten here. How she’d not only aligned herself with a vampire, but now wished for a particular one to go beyond sex with her. Did it have to do with the power she saw in him, or was it the vulnerability? Something in Victor trigg
ered an instinctive response for more.
Slowing to a stop, she considered.
He’d given her options, something no one else had ever done before. A coward, she’d walked away. So close to obtaining something she wanted for herself. Something she could grab hold of and indulge in without someone else directing her or making demands. She could want, and it would be all about her.
Lucy turned back, faced Victor. And then began to move swiftly toward him. Not quite running, although she picked up speed when he lifted his gaze from whatever distracted him and noticed her coming.
The expression on his face was priceless. A supreme intensity crossed his features, his lips parting as canines extended. “Why?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.
“I owe you a debt. Whether you collect it now or later doesn’t change the fact that it’s due.” She was panting by the time she reached him and Lucy couldn’t be sure she could entirely blame exertion.
His face, that beautifully imperfect face, almost illuminated with something she likened to hope. “But I thought...you didn’t...don’t...”
A smile curved her lips. “Do.”
She extended her arms, the fine stubble of his jawline covered by her hands. Her heart did some weird thing where it fluttered and dropped at the same time, making breathing difficult. Until now, she hadn’t paid attention to the difference in their heights, but it was with great pleasure to feel her breasts rub against his chest when she elevated on tiptoes.
Victor dipped toward her, his eyes intent on hers. She waited until the last possible moment, until his lips hovered just above hers, before she closed them. When the faintest hint of warmth butterflied there, she stretched to him.
Their mouths met in the gentlest of touches, a brush so timid, she wasn’t sure they’d connected. Not until Victor slanted his mouth more, pressing harder. Taking.
Pure indulgence.
Lucy parted her lips, inviting him in. She had every urge to pull him closer, allowing her to ravage him in their kiss. But this tender meeting made something unfurl deep inside her, and she wanted the moment to last.
His cheek lifted beneath her hand, a smile she felt through sensitive skin and with the teasing nips he gave her. There was a noticeable difference from the other side, but she let her mind escape beneath the weight of his kiss. Not his ruined smile.
A sudden blasted thought fractured her. The realization that this man might be the last one she ever kissed. That this kiss had to count for more than a small victory in her training, because sometime soon, she’d be too debilitated to do more than just exist.
She swiped that awareness away, choosing instead to live in this moment.
Lucy curled her tongue into his mouth, letting it rub over the sensitive edge of his canine. It elicited the right response, a shuddering groan from the vampire who wanted this as much as she.
Victor pulled her closer, his hands beginning a slow roam over her body. It went past their agreement, but hell if she was going to stop him now. Not when she wanted to moan with excitement, when she tingled all over with awareness.
At last when she grew dizzy, breathing of distant importance, she pulled away just enough to murmur against his lips, “I should go, get cleaned up.”
“I don’t think I could let you go now if I tried. My hands have a mind of their own.” His voice was laced with the blissful edge of someone who’d imbibed. She loved that she’d done that to him.
She made a decision. “But if you let me go now, I’ll come back.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. “For...?”
“Yes.”
His muscles tensed.
“Let me go,” Lucy whispered.
He did.
* * *
It hadn’t been a disaster. She’d responded. More than responded. She’d gripped his arms as if her world had shifted beneath her feet while they’d kissed.
And what a damned kiss.
It’d taken an incredible amount of self-control to not throw her to the ground, shred those loose jeans and thrust himself deep inside her sheath. Lucy was temptation and enchantment in the form of a spitfire with a professional’s right hook.
He found himself watching her enter the little cabin, his cock growing impossibly harder as he realized she’d been affected by their kiss too. The next time he saw her, there would be more.
Still, his senses prickled. He’d shoved aside all concerns about the lycans, thinking with his dick instead. That kind of dumbness would get him killed. Don’t be stupid enough to believe the luck will hold forever.
Victor pulled the phone from his back pocket and called up a recent number. The phone rang twice in his ear before the call connected. Cicero’s cultured voice came on. “Gave the job to someone else.”
“Yeah, fuckabilly. Hello to you, too.” It hadn’t been part of the plan to get irritated, but it all elbowed up to the forefront. The betrayal. The accusations. Being forced to run. “I hear you been talking to lykes about business they ain’t got no right knowing.”
The pause that followed stretched to the point that Victor couldn’t be sure they hadn’t been disconnected.
“What are you accusing me of?” Cicero finally responded.
“I told no one else about our arrangement. Did you?”
“Had no reason to.”
Victor began to pace, his long strides eating up the ground. He adjusted his deflating erection, needing to keep his ire sharp. “I had to make myself scarce because someone told the werewolves about our meet that night.”
He weighed how much to divulge to Cicero. There was no way to tell exactly where his loyalties lay. Had he made suggestions to the werewolves about Victor, maybe to throw the trail off Sage? It would make sense. As one of the elite guards to the Councilman, the misdirection drew attention away from Sage, making Cicero’s life easier.
It was flimsy, but he was at a loss.
“Yeah, well, like I said, job got outsourced to someone else. Whatever problems you’re having, I don’t need blowing back on me. Gotta run—”
“Wait,” Victor said, cutting him off. It felt like Cicero was wrapping up their conversation, and he needed more information.
“Make it quick, merc. Got better things to do than yammering with you.” The dulcet tones of a female’s voice drifted to Victor over the phone. It angered him to no end to be thrown over for some pussy, but what could he say? They weren’t friends. Not even close to it.
“If someone needed to get close to a member of Council, how’d he go about it?”
“Wouldn’t happen.” Muffled sounds came across the speaker as Cicero apparently covered the phone. Although not individually discernible, the melodic tones of his Middle Eastern tongue still made it through. “Man, don’t. Whatever you’re thinking about doing, just don’t. You go after one of the Council, and we’re going to take you out while you try.”
“Didn’t say—”
“You wouldn’t be asking me questions like that if you didn’t have something planned. Whoever’s paying you to consider this job isn’t paying you enough for the wrath you’d be bringing down on your head. Fuck with Council, and you’ll be dead within forty-eight hours.”
Kind of what he’d figured. Victor turned to the cabin again, an overwhelming concern for Lucy washing over him. He tried to shake loose the feeling, but it’d gotten hold and clung on. He searched for movement from her inside the place, his heart hammering when he couldn’t spot her.
“It’s not me,” he murmured, still watching for her. “A friend might be having stupid thoughts, and I wanted to know what they’re up against.”
“Death, and not an easy one either. Even an unauthorized vampire would have a more merciful ending.”
Since the formation of the Council, vampires were prohibited from creating new ones without the Council’s blessing. It was one of their first rules and most harshly dealt with when broken. The way to keep humans ignorant about vampire existence? Make sure the population wasn’t over
run. Humans served as food, and if the balance tipped in the wrong direction too quickly, the real threat of starvation existed.
A few vampires had tested the new law, but not only were the newly transitioned put to permanent sleep, so were their sires. Very, very few attempted to push the bounds of the law as a result.
No human was worth it.
“You tell the dumb fuck to stick to robbing little old ladies or convenience stores. He doesn’t want me or any of my men coming after him. It’s been a slow week, and I could use the entertainment.”
Victor did not like the eagerness in Cicero’s voice. “Yeah, well, it might not be as easy as that, but I’ll pass along the message. And Cicero?”
“Yeah?”
“I find out you sold me out, and it’ll be you and me.”
“Fuck you, merc.”
Victor stabbed the disconnect button on the phone. He didn’t catch any vibes that Cicero was lying or being evasive. Somebody had put the lycans on his trail though, and he couldn’t think of a single other person who could have.
Movement snagged his attention, and he found himself tracking it. Dawn held off for another hour or two, but as he peered into the distance, he realized he couldn’t make out the details. Forest rodent, maybe? Just couldn’t tell.
He strode closer, head tilted, annoyance rising. Tracking down some squirrel or rabbit hadn’t been on tonight’s agenda, but he’d trusted Lucy’s judgment in coming to his place. She might be used to the wildlife, but he’d never been the outdoorsy type. Then again, what if a clever raccoon was in fact, an even cleverer wolf with human intelligence?
Ammo was low. His nerves riding high. When had his life come down to this?
He strained for another sign to come to him, some small noise to give him an indication of whether it was harmless or something worse. He wanted to believe that a lycan would have been stealthier. But damn it, Victor couldn’t get any sense of it at all.
