by Michele Hauf
He turned a surprised look on her.
“The scepter can wait,” she whispered. “Will you help me?”
“Help you?” His surprise turned to worry, and then he nodded and quickly escorted her outside.
“Let’s take the Métro,” she suggested because there was a station right across the street. While she avoided the Métro more than she avoided paranormals, she just wanted to be home, where she felt safe, and with Stryke.
Chapter 10
They entered the apartment in a tangle of kisses and groping hands and stumbling feet. Blyss wanted to be a part of Stryke, to feel him all over her. She couldn’t deny the combustible attraction she felt when near him. Werewolf or not, she needed to know every part of this man.
“Thought we were going to talk?” he mumbled between kisses to her neck, the rise of her breasts, her collarbone. He slipped off her dress sleeve, his fingers tracing shiver-tickles down her arm.
“I need to know you first,” she said on a gasp. “A man. A wolf. I want to feel your strength, Stryke.”
“I don’t know how this will change things,” he said as they stumbled into the bedroom and landed on the bed. “But you won’t hear me protesting. Blyss, you’re so hot and wanting. My greedy glamour girl. I like that.”
“Then give me everything you can,” she whispered as she unzipped and shrugged down her dress. He pulled it off her and tossed it to the floor. The silk would wrinkle; she didn’t care. “Get undressed. Quickly!”
He still wore the bloodstained shirt, which was quickly relegated to the floor, followed by his dress trousers, shoes and boxers. That was one rental suit that would not receive a return on the deposit.
She gripped his erection and pulled him onto the bed. She wanted him inside her. She wrapped her body against his and he glided between her legs, entering her, thrusting briskly at first and then slower until they barely moved yet the world swirled around them.
His tongue teased at her nipple. A finger slicked her clit. They maintained the slow rhythm, but it was too much to contain. Release overwhelmed them both and Stryke’s body stiffened above hers, his muscles tensing and then relaxing as she shivered into a delicious orgasm. She thought he growled—it was some kind of wolfish sound. And then he collapsed to her side, yet rolled over to kiss her on the shoulder.
“The only time I really know you are werewolf is when we have sex.” he said. “You get all hot and bothered and your true nature is revealed.”
“It’s the only time I can recognize your wolf, as well.”
Blyss stared up through the overhead windows. The sky was bright. She felt terrific. Depleted and exhausted, yet also somehow...different. Complete? That a man could complete her was not a belief she subscribed to. Yet she felt somehow right lying beside Stryke. Even knowing he could sense her true nature.
And he smelled homey and warm, like sex and salt and everything she wanted to immerse herself in. The glide of their moistened skin against skin allowed her to gauge his strength. And the skim of the stubble on his jaw as he kissed down from her shoulder sent new shivers through her body that felt like joy.
For as little as she knew this man, she felt as if she could trust him. That, of all the people walking this world, this one would accept her.
The time had come to reveal all. Pray, he could accept her awful truth.
“All right.” She blew out a breath and brushed aside a curl of hair from her lashes. “This is my story. You may hate me after I’ve told you, so I am thankful that we’ve had one last moment together. It means a lot to me, this being comfortable with you. I’ve never felt like this with any other man. It’s so special.”
He rolled to his side and propped up on an elbow, catching the side of his face against a palm. “I’m sure there’s nothing you can say that will scare me out of your bed. Even demons haven’t scared me away from you.”
She stroked his neck where the talon cuts had healed yet faint dark lines remained. He nuzzled his face against her hand. It would be so easy to curl up against him and make slow love right now. But she couldn’t conceal anything from him anymore.
“You wanted to know how I got involved with Edamite Thrash. I sought him out after learning he might have the fix I needed for my life. It was about six years ago, right after I’d left Valoir.”
“You purposely left your pack? Banished?”
“No, I wasn’t banished. My brother stood up for me, asking for a lesser punishment. I was expelled with the condition that I could return if I wished. And then, only if I accepted my wolf. I was honored they chose not to banish me.”
Banishment was forever and left the werewolf permanently scarred as a sign to others that he or she had been extricated from the pack, usually for a crime against their own or for committing a deed so foul none in the pack could condone it.
Blyss hadn’t harmed anyone. Yet her deed could be considered foul by some. Who was she kidding? All in the pack had voted to expel her. Including her mother.
She inhaled a breath of bravery.
“Stryke, my deep, dark secret is that I hate being werewolf. It’s nasty, messy and horrible. Ever since the shift came upon me at puberty I’ve felt wrong. As if I was born into the wrong body. Shifting is not easy for me, and coming back from a shift into this human body is terrible. I feel ugly and— Oh, you’re making a face.”
His wince smoothed away and he shook his head. “I’m... I don’t know what to say.”
Who could know how to react? Blyss was aware she was one among millions who felt as she did. She’d never in her lifetime met or heard about other werewolves who denied their very heritage.
“This life I have now?” she said. “The diamonds and glamour and socializing? It is the life I’ve created that suits me best. No shifting. No fur or claws, or nasty running through the woods on all fours. No feeding on small animals or living among—well, wolves.”
She shuddered. Memories of living in the pack were ugly. She had only ever been close to her father and brother, Kir. She rarely saw Kir nowadays. And her father had abandoned his family for another woman when Blyss was younger. Pack Valoir had banished Colin Sauveterre for his propensity to engage in illicit love affairs with demons and vampires. Now she saw her father a few times a year, and not on her terms, but because he showed up at her door groveling. Sometimes she wished he could get his act together so she didn’t feel as if she had to keep an eye on him.
Stryke sat up and brushed his hands over his face. “Blyss, what you’re saying... It’s like... I don’t know. It’s like denying your heritage. How can you not be what you were born to be? My mind goes to people who are gay and try to deny it, or even—hell, a person of color who denies their race. It’s wrong. I couldn’t imagine being anything but wolf.”
“Then you should understand that I am not denying what I am but am trying to be what I know I should be.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” He stood and paced beside the bed, the glow from a streetlight worshipping his naked form. His skin gleamed. The tight muscles strapping his thighs and buttocks a lure to her sensual lusts. “You were born a werewolf, yes?”
“Of course. Our breed can only be born.”
“Was one of your parents something else? A faery?”
“No, both my parents are wolves. As is my brother, Kirnan.”
“You’ve a brother? What does your family think of you trying to be something you’re not?”
“Stryke, I am trying to be the thing I feel I was born to be. And my family...”
Blyss sighed and sat up against the pillow. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t face his accusing stare. Yet she felt his concern in her heart. He feared for her even while not completely comprehending her situation.
“My mother thinks I’m insane. My father tolerates me only because he was banished from the pack a decade ago after he’d had an affair with a demon. And there’s the money. I’ve bailed him out more times than a child should have to. Mom and Kir remain in the pack
. Dad lives on his own with his demon girlfriend. And I am where I need to be.”
“But you weren’t banished from the pack?”
“I can return if I accept my werewolf.”
“Will that ever happen? How?” He sat on the bed, leaning in to seek her truths. “How can you not be werewolf?”
“Right before leaving the pack, I heard there was a means to suppress my werewolf. Pills.”
“Pills?” He shook his head and exhaled. Again he stood and paced. “You take pills to not be wolf? That sounds impossible.”
“I take a pill to prevent my werewolf from demanding release every full moon. I get them from Ed.”
“The demon?” Stryke blew out a breath. Hands to his hips, his back to her, he bowed his head, eyes closed. “So that’s why you owe him money? Why you needed to get the diamond?”
“A year’s supply of pills costs five hundred thousand euros. I take them daily. I do need to shift only one full moon every year. Sort of a means to let out everything I’ve suppressed. It’s awful.”
She sensed his utter horror at her confession. His back muscles were tense, as was his neck. He couldn’t look directly at her. She had lost him. But there was no turning back now. She had to put it all out there.
“I’ve but a few pills remaining. And the full moon is closing in. I owe Ed for this year’s supply still because I needed to divert the money elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” he muttered. Sitting on the bed, his back to her, he caught his palms on his knees. “Continue.”
“My father has a gambling problem. He was in debt. A nasty bunch of vampires were after him, a tribe who is known to hunt wolves. I paid off his debt thinking I could easily get the money to replace it. I...have a tendency to collect expensive gifts from my lovers. It’s how I’ve survived.”
Stryke’s body bent forward, his head shaking as he exhaled.
“Not lately, though,” she continued. Her heart pounded. Her soul ached for exposing her terrible truths. And she couldn’t stop, although she knew every word was only driving a wedge deeper between the two of them.
“When Ed heard that our gallery was exhibiting Le Diabolique, he called me in and offered the deal. I had no idea the diamond was anything more than a stone. A demon trapped within? The legend of it is that whoever has held it through history has suffered a terrible fate. It’s been in the hands of royalty, thieves, murderers and more royalty. But it’s never been in demon hands.”
“So you were going to hand over this nasty diamond to a demon, who had plans to do God knows what with it?”
“And in turn Ed would forgive my debt and cover me for the next year’s pills. I need those pills, Stryke. Without them...”
“You’re just a werewolf.” He turned to pin her with an accusing gaze. It felt like silver cutting into her veins and sizzling directly to her heart. “A werewolf like me. Now I understand why I couldn’t scent you in the gallery. And why you were so upset when I pinned you for werewolf. You must have been disgusted to know you’d just had sex with a werewolf.”
He grabbed his pants and shuffled them up, swinging an arm through his bloodied shirt as rapidly.
“I can’t listen to this,” he said. “All I’ve ever wanted my whole life is to fall in love with a beautiful werewolf and make a family. I’m looking for a wife, Blyss. I’m to start a pack so my father can retire. And what happens when I begin to think I may have found that woman? She is the one wolf in the world who doesn’t want to be a wolf.”
He charged out of the bedroom, shoes in hand.
Blyss didn’t call for him to stay. He had every right to be angry. To be disgusted by her. She knew the feeling. She’d been disgusted by wolves all her life.
Until she’d met Stryke Saint-Pierre.
Chapter 11
Stryke kicked off his shoes inside his apartment’s kitchen. He tore off his shirt and tossed it across the back of a chair. He strode into the living room, smacking a fist in palm. The intense need to punch something tightened his muscles. He usually matched Trouble while sparring. He could use a punching bag right now.
Blyss didn’t want to be a wolf.
What. The. Hell?
He couldn’t conceive of such a notion. How could a person not want to be something they had been born to?
Blowing out a breath, he paced before the windows that overlooked the Seine. The view was gorgeous. He should be out touring the city, taking in the summer air, holding hands with a sexy werewolf...
Okay. Stop.
He was a rational man. He was able to look at things from more than his perspective. All his life he’d been a pseudo counselor to his brothers and their troubles, especially regarding women. He could do this.
If he considered what Blyss had revealed to him, he could understand that there were people in this world who wanted to change their circumstances. That no matter how others looked at them, and assumed them to be happy, they might never be happy with their life. So, sure, he could grant that Blyss wasn’t happy. Hadn’t been happy. And she’d taken measures to find a certain happiness that better suited her.
He shrugged his fingers over his scalp. “But not a wolf?”
Here he’d thought he’d happened upon a good thing. A gorgeous woman, who was also a werewolf, who seemed to like him and definitely seemed to enjoy having sex with him. He’d thought they’d hit it off. Had even allowed himself to take a step toward thinking she could be the one.
Yet the truth was, she had been using him. Mostly. He could believe her when she’d explained that initially she’d been looking for a dupe to carry the diamond out of the gallery, and then she’d warmed to him as a lover.
He wanted to believe that. He wanted to believe in something.
But it was too late. Tomorrow his family boarded a plane for the States. So long, Paris, romance and Blyss. Sure, he’d intended to stay a few days longer, but he would eventually leave.
Could he leave her?
“I need a shower.” He’d been wearing the same clothes for two days. And he needed a good night’s sleep. With hope, the morning would bring a new perspective.
* * *
The morning brought Stryke upright in bed with a name on his lips. “Blyss.”
And all the angst he’d been feeling returned. Jumping out of bed and pulling on his jeans and a shirt, he wandered into the kitchen but wasn’t hungry, so he swung back into the living room.
A knock on the door jerked him around from his fervent pacing. He marched to the door and pulled it open, cautioning himself from growling. Kelyn and Trouble barged in.
“We’re heading to the airport this afternoon,” Trouble said. “You packed and ready?”
“No.”
“What?” Kelyn asked.
“I...” And he made a knee-jerk decision. “I’m going to stay on for a while longer.”
“What the hell for?” Trouble asked. “I mean, the city is cool. It’s got sexy chicks walking around, if you can sift through the crazy tourists and find a real Parisian femme, but seriously? I’m so ready to head back home.”
“Rhys Hawkes has more work for me.” Stryke summoned a simple excuse. “It’s interesting work. And I like the city, so yeah, as long as I’ve a place to stay, I think I’ll hang out for a while.”
And there was one other, bigger reason.
“What about that chick you brought to the wedding?” Kelyn guessed correctly. “Is it true what I heard that it might have been her fault the demons attacked?”
“That’s probably not true.” He didn’t want his brothers going after Blyss because of something she may or may not have been involved in. Because if Trouble smelled trouble then he’d stick around for the dangerous fun. “It’s a complicated deal.”
And Stryke didn’t want to discuss it with his brothers. They would form an opinion of Blyss, and he’d rather they not think of her negatively. She was a complicated woman. And he decided right then and there that he wasn’t going to walk away from her just like
that. He couldn’t. If there were demons looking for the diamond, Blyss could be in danger.
“Demons or not, she was one hot chick,” Trouble said. “Isn’t that the kicker? The dangerous ones are always the most exciting.”
“Yeah? Then your ultimate match will probably knock you into tomorrow,” Stryke offered.
“Hey, I’d like that.” Trouble rubbed his jaw and bounced a couple of times on his feet. Boxer’s moves. Their eldest brother was a frenetic bundle of energy. “So you want to head out to that street where they sell those chicken sandwiches with all the fries?”
“The Greek restaurant,” Kelyn provided.
Dozens of restaurants tucked within the 5th arrondissement served up shredded chicken gyros on soft pita bread, slathered with tzatziki sauce, and piled with veggies and mountains of crispy fries. Heaven.
“Sounds like a plan,” Stryke offered. “Is Blade around?”
“Yeah, we’ll grab him on the way out the building. We’ll get Dad, too. He’s been complaining that Mom made him take her to all the froufrou restaurants that serve a carrot stick and a blop of mush.”
Stryke grabbed his shirt and shoved his feet into his shoes. He needed a hearty meal and some time hanging with the guys. He could worry about the crazy werewolf glamour girl later.
* * *
Blyss pulled a bottle from the wine cooler, turned around—and dropped the bottle on the marble floor. The glass shattered. Cool liquid splashed her ankles, and shards of glass cut across her bare feet.
Edamite Thrash stood in the kitchen. His pale gray eyes narrowed on her, his mouth equally as narrow. The horns at his temples caught the sunlight with a glint. She hadn’t heard him enter, but she knew he was powerful. He must have the ability to transport himself wherever he wished. She wasn’t up on demon abilities. Didn’t want to be up on them either.
“Cabernet 1945?” he asked. “Pity.”
With a sweep of his hand, the black glass pieces reformed into the bottle, and the wine puddles refilled it. The undamaged bottle found its place onto the kitchen counter.
