by Zoe Forward
She nodded as she took a barstool at the island counter, although she wasn’t sure the juice’s acidity would agree with her stomach. “You wolves sure do have a thing for OJ.”
He shrugged and slid a glass of juice across the counter, watching as she drank a few sips. His gaze remained fixed on her lips.
“Maybe this?” He slid a thermos across the counter. “And this?” He handed her a Hershey bar.
She ripped open the outer wrap and bit into the chocolate. Its sweetness flooded her taste buds…oh, sweet heaven. “That’s good.” Two more bites happened before remembering he was watching her. Her face scorched.
He chuckled.
“Thank you.” She nodded at the thermos. “What’s in it?”
“I thought you might be thirsty. It’s not my vintage, but…”
She unscrewed and sniffed. “Type O. How’d you get this?”
“There are ways. Drink.” He crossed his arms.
“You’re ordering me again.” She sniffed. “But I’m thirsty.” She drank until the container was empty and then drained the rest of the juice. “Anything else in there?” She sauntered to the refrigerator under his intense scrutiny. Her heart beat hard enough to jump out of her chest. Sensing him behind her she turned. He put his hands up, caging her against the refrigerator door.
“There’s nothing in there that will take care of your hunger.” His eyes lifted from her mouth.
Her gaze dropped to the pulsating vessel in his neck. She lifted her hands, which were trembling, and placed them against his broad chest. Everything about him was sexy, even the aura of danger that clung to him like a dark shadow.
“I want…” she whispered.
He brushed his lips over hers. She could taste the orange juice she’d just had.
“This doesn’t mean I’ll let you have a drink of what you want before we run.” His fingers slid down her cheek, then slipped over the curve of her neck.
“I didn’t say a drink, although I want that, too. I meant you.”
He nibbled over her jugular vein.
She swallowed and knew he felt the small movement.
Lexan laughed. The sound sent a shiver through her. He bent his head. His mouth replaced his hand on her neck. He kissed her lightly, teasing…suggestive. Her canines ached to taste him. Then she felt the rasp of his tongue against her throat.
Vee’s fingers dug into his shoulders. “This doesn’t mean I’m agreeing to anything longer term. This is about right now only.”
“Step into my world, Vee.” The edge of his teeth scored her skin. “You may never want to leave.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
She could try to push him away with words, but this had everything to do with now, tomorrow, and forever. He’d prove to her this would work while getting her somewhere safe. Life was precarious and had almost been snatched away from them. He wanted her relocated to somewhere no one could find her, not even Blay.
But right now…
He enjoyed every nuance of Vee’s reaction from the small sounds she made to the tiniest shiver of her body. He liked the angles of her face and her curves.
The moral move would be to pull back from his driving need and be patient. She should run first, and learn how to shift. That was high stress for anyone. She should drink from him and get stronger. He was old enough to know how to find patience, if he put forth even a 20 percent effort. Yet, when nothing at his age was new, the novelty of her and what she made him feel was an addiction he couldn’t deny. He savored the consuming need and the new sensations swirling through his body. Hell, he enjoyed this mental debate because this was real give-a-shit concern. Every moment he was with her he felt more alive.
“Do you want to continue or pause?” he asked. Would he be able to stop if she said no?
“Don’t stop now.”
He pulled the sweater over her head. Her nipples were tight and pink. Perfect. His hands covered them, and then his mouth. As he licked and tasted, a gasp broke from her lips along with his name. So responsive. The kitchen felt exposed. He wasn’t sure she’d want to be so public for this. “Should we find a more private place?”
“Here.” Her hands were at the waist of his pants, unlatching and tugging.
He gazed around the room, landing on the counter. Too high. Table. Perfect height. He lifted her easily and set her on top. She arched backward and spread her legs.
He leaned in giving a series of kisses and nips down her stomach. He lifted her hips to put his mouth on her. Heaven.
“Lexan! It’s too much.” Her hips arched against him.
“It’s never too much. This is the two of us…together.” He breathed the words against her, loving the way she responded to him. Uninhibited. Wild. Her body bucked when he applied a few more licks. She was close.
“I want to feel you around me when you come,” he said hoarsely.
Her eyes met his, now so dilated the green was almost gone. He pulled her to the edge of the table and surged into her. He tilted her hips and thrust deeper.
She moaned. Her body tensed. For a moment he worried he’d hurt her. Everything about her made him lose his mind and control. “Okay?”
“I’m more than okay. Don’t stop.” Her legs circled around his hips, urging him closer. “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.”
He found a perfect rhythm, moving subtly to rub against a spot that made her body arch. With a guttural groan, she dug her fingernails into his forearms. He forced his body under a semblance of control, unlike last time, to drive her to the edge.
Vee shuddered with pleasure. “Please. I need…now,” she demanded.
Lexan released all restraints. He drove into her as deep as he could go. So slick, so hot. Her moans urged him faster. At the moment he felt close to the edge, he leaned in and put his mouth on her shoulder over his mark and bit gently.
Her inner muscles squeezed, and she cried out.
He exploded within her. Pleasure swamped his brain, sweeping him away. He’d had pleasure in the past, but never like this. Never with such intensity. His heart pounded between his ears as he stayed buried deep within her.
Her legs slid down his hips.
“That was…” Her luminous gaze met his. I can’t even voice it. She slid off the counter. He helped her regain her balance and felt her body tremble against his. “Is that part of being in your world?”
He grinned. “It’s a preview.”
She tugged on her clothes and snagged the remaining half of the Hershey bar. “So far, so good.”
“We are far from done.” His cell phone chirped.
He pulled out the cell and sighed. Time to reveal the truth to her of the real underground war.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I’ve got to put your first run on hold for a little bit. The moon isn’t yet up, so we have time.” Lexan glanced at the text again.
“What’s going on?” she asked.
“There’s a facility here. I knew of the ones in Europe and Asia, but I wasn’t aware Blay operated one in Canada until we arrived here.”
“What kind of facility?”
“Let me show you.” He led her through the house, which was really a mansion, out the back into an upscale barn.
No obvious horses or other animals occupied the inside. In a tack room devoid of tack, he pulled up a saddle rack. A hidden door panel in the hardwood floor slid back, revealing a set of stairs leading down. The room beneath was cold and dark, but there was a door. Lexan stood there as if waiting. The door swung open. The space immediately lit with blinding light. She shielded her eyes as they walked into a glassed-in room. The cavernous underground facility was populated with people in white-and-baby blue scrubs.
“Put these on,” Lexan handed her a mask and latex gloves.
“Aren’t you?” She waved at the boxes of gloves and masks.
“I’m not at risk.”
She put on the mask and gloves. “What is here that I’m at risk to get but not you?”
“What is this place?”
“It’s a medical hospice where wolves with incurable disease come for treatment and to pass on.”
She glanced into a hospital room that looked more like a small apartment. Yet, it wasn’t depressing like a nursing home or as sterile as human facilities. A man rested in a bed, hooked up to an IV while he and a male nurse laughed at the episode of Gold Rush on TV.
“Their families let them leave when they’re dying?”
“There’s a lot of fear surrounding this disease. A lot of the unknown. Most were kicked out. Some chose to leave. We know a lot more about the disease now than we did even six months ago.”
“What kind of incurable disease? I thought you guys healed fast like we do and were immune to most human viruses other than rabies.”
“There’s someone we are here for you to meet.” Lexan’s eyes filled with sadness. He knocked on the door of a corner room. An accented male bid they enter. It was as if they’d stepped back into a spacious, late 1800s bedroom with the wood writing bureau, poster bed, and velvet upholsteredchairs and sofas.
A werewolf with dark, short-cut hair and the essence of an ancient sat in an antique wood recliner, which was simple, but looked dreadfully uncomfortable. The wolf put down his book. “Ah, Lexan. Thank you for…answering my request. You must be Velvet, Blay’s little girl.” He smiled. “I’m Jacob. This must all seem a lot to take in.”
“Good to meet you,” she said distractedly as she stared at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves housing hundreds of cloth and leather-bound books.
Jacob waved at shelves. “Borrow whatever you wish. You look like your mother, whom I had the honor of meeting once. Such a wonderful female. I wanted to meet you before I die. It’s a selfish request, but I haven’t got long now, at least that’s what they tell me. Kidneys are at the end and all.”
“This is your uncle,” Lexan said softly.
Her gaze bounced off an antique copy of The First Book of Urizen, which looked original and had to be worth thousands of dollars. She had an uncle in this bizarre world where her father was an ancient werewolf. “What do you mean you don’t have long? You’re a werewolf. How in the world can a species capable of immense regeneration have an incurable disease?”
Jacob shot a confused glance at Lexan.
“She doesn’t know,” Lexan said. “About six years ago, our people started getting sick. Not many, but about one in a hundred or so. It’s not overtly contagious. Seemed to hit at random. Human medicine couldn’t figure it out and labeled it some sort of autoimmune condition. We started doing research. Blay’s scientists have had the most success in figuring out the specifics. It’s a virus designed to attack our species. Those who get sick were exposed to it, but they can’t pass it on.”
“Designed? As in a virus modified in a lab to target you? A biological weapon?”
“Yes. It causes a degenerative process where the body puts down deposits in all organs, but the body doesn’t recognize the deposits as abnormal. When there are too many deposits, the organ shuts down. Magical healers can’t seem to counter it.”
“Like Feline Infectious Peritonitis in cats?”
“I don’t know this disease.” Lexan glanced to Jacob.
“Yes,” said Jacob. “It’s a mutated corona virus like FIP, which leaves immune complex depositions. Once I found out I was sick from the virus, I built this facility and studied with one of the best virologists in Canada. We continue to search for a cure. I have hope even if I may not be around to benefit from it.”
“But FIP is incurable in cats. It’s a slow death.”
Lexan said, “Recent information has surfaced that the virus was released by authorization of the Italian DiFalcos.”
“Why would they want to kill you? I thought they wanted you as slaves again?”
“I think we’ve progressed far beyond enslavement. When we fight this time in the open, it’s to the death. They hope to weaken us by eliminating all our ancient ones, the ones who remember how to fight.”
“Except you.” He was at risk. She already knew he was at risk from assassination, but maybe this was part of the reason for his seclusion.
“I’ve been exposed, but I didn’t get sick. All of my boys have been exposed, but for some reason we didn’t get ill. To expose us they must have a werewolf working for them who knows where we live.”
“A traitor.” Her mind whirled. Unable to do much with a traitor scenario, she focused on the science. That was something she understood and could dissect. “It’s like FIP, then. The mutated virus doesn’t have virulence for all cats, although veterinarians aren’t sure why.” She wanted to figure out the mystery. Her mind bounced between human medicine and veterinary.
“I won’t let you get involved,” Lexan said.
She scowled.
He held up his hand. “The ones at most risk are the demisangs, like you. They all die, and more rapidly than any pureblood wolf.”
“We’re in the safest end of the facility. It’s not an aerosolized contagion that we know of, but precaution is important.” Jacob waved at her mask. “I wanted to meet you. Blay told me about you and Lexan. It’s a gift to have each other.”
“We shall leave you, then.” Lexan nodded his head and moved to exit.
Jacob grabbed her arm as she turned to go. His grip hurt. She tugged to release.
He whispered. “You have to finish my work, Vee. You have to. The only one who can understand this is you.” He thrust a flash drive into her palm. “I’ll be dead within the next day or two. It’s up to you now to help them and carry on my research.”
She yanked her arm away and followed Lexan out of the facility, fingering the flash drive.
The sun had set, the air crisping without daylight. A blue hue from a full moon on its rise bathed the trees. It lured her with the freedom to run and feel the wind on his face.
She hugged her arms.
“Are you cold?”
“A bit. Where exactly are we?”
“Quebec. One of Blay’s estates.” He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his body. She relaxed into him. “He’s got thousands of acres here. Lots of space to be free. He’s owned it for decades. Like many of us, he collects properties across the globe.”
She gazed up at the two-story antebellum house with a wrap-around porch. It was out of place and time in Canada. It should be a house on the coast of the southern United States, somewhere with water and mosquitoes. Somewhere with plantation fields, huge wicker fans, and everyone wearing white.
“It’s a pretty house. What’s your house like?” She wondered if Lexan’s house was equally out of time.
“I have four. They are each unique.”
“Of course you have several. You’re the werewolf king.”
“My having homes has nothing to do with my position as leader of our people. I chose a few places across the world I liked. Each is remote and highly secure. I’d like to show them to you.”
She smiled up at him. “That sounds nice.”
…
He liked her in his arms, even if she was only using him for warmth, and fought the urge to bury his face in her soft hair. If he did, he’d push for a repeat. Sex wasn’t everything. He wanted to slow down their relationship, which seemed to be strapped onto a rocket. He wanted to talk with her, to know her. But he wasn’t sure how to do that when now he had to help her through the most terrifying part of any werewolf’s existence.
He’d never really been interested in the slow-down part of a relationship.
What if this was only about the flavor of his blood? And sex. This, for her, may have nothing to do with partnership and love.
Love? No. Not possible. He hadn’t known her long enough.
He’d never been in love, so he couldn’t be certain. Over the centuries he’d counseled many who thought age gave him wisdom about matters of the heart. From that he’d concluded the proble
m with hearts was they jumped without permission, which led to sticky situations often awkward, embarrassing, or downright stupid. After it jumped, the brain had to figure things out and make sense of it.
He’d never wanted someone so badly in his life without giving a damn for consequences. Maybe his heart had jumped.
Shit.
His cell phone lightly dinged. He pulled it out and cursed at his rotten luck. “I’ve got to take this call, but I’m putting it on speaker since it involves you. Be silent.” He put a finger to his lips and pressed the green answer button. “This is Lexan.”
“Ah, Signore Aleksander. So glad I catch you,” said a heavily Italian-accented male.
“Viktor DiFalco. I would say it has been too long, but then I probably would not have contacted you had your son not tried to kill me.”
“Ambrose can be…impulsive. Perhaps he misread a situation? He is young. Sometimes his ambassadorial role tests his patience. I heard you have taken possession of his fiancée, though. That would be cause for justifiable alarm.”
“He’s old enough to make his own decisions on your behalf, and in this country he is your representative. Velvet has chosen sides, and because of this she was not in a safe situation. We each protect our defectors, do we not?”
“We do.”
“I interpret his action as a signal you and the other European vampire families have elected to end the peace.”
Several seconds of tense silence echoed from the other end. Viktor’s voice lost its lackadaisical smoothness when he replied crisply, “Ambrose acted independently. I knew the Scarpa daughter wasn’t a good choice for him. Such a heathen place to raise young. Now he has acted impulsively out of love.”
That was grade-A bullshit. Ambrose had an agenda that had nothing to do with Vee or love. Viktor probably didn’t know of his son’s homosexual preferences. Lexan stayed silent waiting for a decision on war.
After a moderate pause, Viktor said, “I have no wish to return to war.”
“My people are angry, Viktor. This never-ending fight here in the States, the virus, and now this attack on me. Those who want a fight are preparing. Michael is…”
