by Tracy Tappan
Forcing himself to wrench out his fangs, he jolted backward, the rapid cadence of his breathing matching hers.
Her eyes were smoky with desire. She tilted her chin up, her lips soft with invitation.
A wave of black rage boiled up from his gut, like magma from the core of Hell. “Do you think I’m going to kiss you now? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve seen where that mouth of yours has been.” The image came to him in a blinding white flash: Pändra’s lips wrapped around Arc’s cock, sucking it into her throat. The bonded male in him yowled mine! mine! mine! corroding his anger into cold fury.
He grabbed Pändra by the back of her neck, swung her around toward the bed, and shoved at her. He felt her tense in objection for a moment, but then she let him face-jam her into the mattress, her hips hanging off the side of the bed. “Bet you’re the type who likes a good, hard fuck, don’t you?” Bracing one knee beside her, his other foot planted on the floor, he ripped her stretch pants down the backs of her thighs. No panties. His cock jerked painfully against his jeans.
“Force me now, you fucking cum dumpster.” He grabbed a handful of her butt cheek and squeezed. “Let’s see how well you do when you don’t have your little helpers with you and I’m not locked in chains.” He swept two fingers down the valley between her buttocks and arrived at her labia, soft and slick. Sweetly aromatic. His stomach stumbled into a roll-over. Fiinţă had prepared her for him. He ground his jaw as he tried to make himself ram his fingers inside her, violate and humiliate her like she deserved.
But someone started playing a discordant drum set inside his head, a pounding, painful rhythm against his cranium. The scent of this woman blared MATE to his neurons in high def surround sound, and his brain was telling him he was trying to do a very bad thing here.
Well, shut up! Shoving a hand into the small of Pändra’s back, he held her in place as he moved to stand behind her. One-handed, he wrenched open his blue jeans, his erect cock jutting into readiness between the vee of his zipper. He took hold of his dick in his fist, then glanced at her face.
She was staring at the headboard blankly, her hands resting on either side of her head. Not doing a thing. Just lying there. Fight me, bitch! He grabbed her hips and muscled her back toward his cock. Her body was limp as an empty pillowcase. Fuck! Breathing through his teeth, he moved back from the bed. No matter how much he might want to hurt this slag, he couldn’t. Now that he was bonded to her, his male Vârcolac instincts were all about protecting his woman from harm. He’d had his chance to fuck her up in that seedy hotel room, and lost it. Because he’d been weak.
Tucking himself away and zipping up his jeans, Thomal jolt-stepped over to the desk and sank down into the chair, propping his elbows on his knees. He buried his head in his hands against the memory that had been jostled loose—Thomal in fifth grade on the playground, straddling Dănuţ and whaling on him for calling Thomal stupid one too many times. Thomal had gotten in a good half dozen hits, including a bone-breaking tag to the nose, before he realized that Dănuţ was just lying beneath him, arms over his face, whimpering. Not fighting back. Dănuţ was a complete dick and had deserved to pay, but something about beating on a person who wouldn’t defend himself had left Thomal feeling…really wrong. The experience had stayed with him, and as a young adult, Thomal had ended up deciding that protecting people who needed it was a helluva lot more noble than painting pictures of them. He’d switched gears and followed Arc into the Warrior Class, a decision that had earned him his father’s approval, locking in the rightness of it.
“Pull your fucking pants up,” he growled at Pändra. His eyes watered. It was from bile sitting in his throat, but a part of him also wanted to cry.
He heard her rustling with her clothes.
“For as long as I can remember,” he told her in a hoarse tone, “I’ve dreamed of what it would be like to mate. To gain my other half, to become a man, to spend every hour of every day making love to my wife, loving her. That’s what other Vârcolac males get to do. It’s what I’ve watched my friends do.” He glanced up, his heart clenching itself into a hard fist.
Pändra was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands on her knees, her feet hooked on the bedrail. Her face displayed its usual utter lack of emotion.
“I was supposed to have had that with Hadley, my girlfriend…ex-girlfriend now that you’ve come along and screwed my life away.” Hadn’t that been a delightful meeting with Hadley when she’d come to see him in the hospital nine days ago. He’d never forget the look of devastation, pain, and—this one had been peachy keen—betrayal on her face. She’d left Ţărână the next day, completely removing herself from his life. He wouldn’t even be able to secretly keep tabs on her because Hadley had decided to change her identity to avoid getting kidnapped again for being a Dragon. “Hadley was sweet and nice and affectionate. She would’ve been a great wife, a fantastic mother to my children.”
Pändra’s face remained an impassive mask.
Thomal balled up his hands. So much he wanted to be able to hit her, sock that nothingness clear across the fucking room. “You stole that from me,” he seethed, glaring. “Do you have any idea how much I hate you for that?”
She waited in silence, maybe thinking he didn’t expect an answer. Finally, her blonde brows twitched upward, and she cleared her throat. “Yes, I believe I’m beginning to cotton on to that.” Something passed through her gaze.
He couldn’t tell what it was. How could he? Her eyes were like vats of black sludge.
“I do appreciate your candor on these matters, thank you.” She stood and crossed into the bathroom, shutting the door.
With his jaw knotted and twitching, he sat back in the chair and absently reached for a small glass bottle on Pändra’s desk. He flexed and released his hand around it for several moments, then glanced at it. Nail polish, in a flashy, fluorescent blue. The perfect color to make Pändra’s toenails into something killer.
He bent forward again, squeezing the nail polish in his hand and pressing his fist to his forehead.
What the hell was wrong with him?
Chapter Seventeen
From the time Pändra was sixteen, her ring hadn’t been off her finger for more than an hour, maybe two—however long it took to shag a lad—and that was it.
Now, it had been about twenty-four hours.
In that time, her surroundings had become a sensation bombardment, her hyper-aware nerve endings processing everything as her body fought to find a place in this new world. The chair she was sitting on outside of Tonĩ’s office had a slightly pilled cushion. One of the wooden back slats was shedding a prickly splinter. She could feel where her skin was attached to her muscles, how her blood fizzed through her veins. She could sense her god-blasted hair growing. She could also tell her clothes fit perfectly. Whoever had dropped off four sacks of duds outside of her door had gauged her size bang on, although hadn’t judged her style very well. Unless she’d been given “nice” clothes on purpose. Today’s ensemble of a light blue skirt that flowed all the way down to her knees—cor, the thought—a soft cottony white blouse, and a pair of slip-on Vans made her resemble a sweet Gidget off for a day of boating. Sideburns Vinz had dropped his mouth nearly to his belt when he showed up at her door to usher her to a morning meeting with Tonĩ.
Vinz was now leaning against the wall outside of Tonĩ’s office and fiddling with his cell phone, taking pains to ignore her. He was one of many of that ilk. On her walk down Main Street, she’d been coldly disregarded by the entire town.
Unfortunately, she’d felt that, too.
Aye, discovering a deeper set of emotions was the worst part about being ringless. She’d actually woken this morning with an unfamiliar tightness in her throat and belly, her conscience needling her about ruining Thomal’s chance for an idyllic life with that Hadley bit of skirt.
The office door to her right opened and Tonĩ appeared, wearing an emerald blouse and loose black slacks cut on the bias so the silk-like ma
terial flowed gracefully around her when she walked. Pändra sat frozen in place, again struck by what a stunning sort Tonĩ was. Pändra herself was attractive, she knew that, but where Pändra was sexy hot, Tonĩ was beautiful in an elegant way. The kind of classy looks Pändra would’ve preferred, and why the devil was she thinking rot like that?
Vinz pushed off the wall. “Do you need me to wait around till you’re done, Tonĩ?”
“Thanks, Vinz, but you can go. I’ll call you if I need you.” Tonĩ waved Pändra inside. “Come on in.”
Pändra stood and entered Tonĩ’s office.
Moving over to her desk, Tonĩ sat down behind it.
Pändra glanced at the couch and two chairs opposite Tonĩ’s desk. Ah. So there’d be no dishing the dirt over in the comfy chat area, eh? Right, then. Strictly business today. Pändra sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk.
“How’d you sleep?” Tonĩ picked up a daisy-painted coffee mug.
Pändra propped her elbows on the armrests and bared her teeth in a smile.
One side of Tonĩ’s mouth crooked upward. “That bad, huh?”
“The bedroom’s a far sight better than a jail cell, that’s for dead cert.” Pändra could’ve gone in for a different flatmate, though. But, unfortunately some strange Vârcolac bonding need had required that Thomal remain close to her scent for a while. He’d stayed in her room all night, spending the first half of the evening planted in front of the TV, staring hard-jawed at a marathon of re-tread House episodes. It’s lupus, no, it’s sarcoidosis, no, it’s syphilis, no, it’s lupus…over and over again.
A serving gal had brought a meal at supper time. Thomal ate his in front of the television. Pändra had sat at the desk reading The Help from a stack of books someone had left for her. Thomal’s freeze-out would’ve been complete had she not caught him studying her on more than one occasion when he thought she wasn’t minding. She’d sneaked eyefuls of him, too. Blimey, but two boshes of her blood had certainly awakened the bloke back to his perishing good looks.
Beddy-bye time had come, and Thomal had just stripped out of his clothes and climbed under the covers of her bed. That had stumped her. Should she join him or make a place for herself on the floor? She’d ended up sleeping on her own side of the mattress—not starkers like him—figuring if he’d either wanted to kill her or shag her, he would’ve done so already. It had still taken her a long time to get to sleep.
Tonĩ leaned back in her chair. “The Costache brothers are well-loved around here, Pändra. There’s no short road back from what you did to them, not with the people of this community or with Thomal.”
Heat washed up the back of Pändra’s neck as she relived her walk down Main Street, people pointedly turning their backs on her. “Did I give you the impression I wanted to travel that road?”
“No.” Tonĩ settled her mug on her lap. “And how you spend your time in this town is entirely up to you. Nobody can force you to make an effort. I just didn’t think that Jaċken’s suggestion to hang you from a meat hook sounded appealing.”
“Ah, yes.” She crossed her legs and flipped her foot. “Best I not forget that I’m trapped here till I’m a wrinkly gimmer, eh?”
Tonĩ released a soft breath. “I’d prefer you didn’t think of it that way. Your stay here doesn’t have to be unpleasant. If you work hard, keep your nose clean, and show yourself disposed to be a good person, then the people of this community might give you a chance.”
“A good person?” Pändra snorted. She supposed pigs did fly in a frozen-over Hell every now and again.
“Sure, and why not?” Leaning forward, Tonĩ set her mug on her desk. “Don’t underestimate yourself, Pändra. Wearing a ring enchanted by Raymond has affected you. There’s darkness in his power. I know this because I feel it in myself whenever I use my own power, which is why I don’t, besides enchanting medications and a few other things. But I’m very cautious about it.” She sat back again. “Look, take some time without your ring on your finger and heal yourself, figure out who you really are and what you want to do. I imagine some great possibilities lurk within you.”
Pändra bore down on her teeth, creating another unpleasant smile. “Lawks, sis, I do appreciate the whole sunshine-up-my-arse-thing, but I already know who I am, and it certainly isn’t anyone who can keep her nose clean. Sorry to disappoint. Shall I go now?”
Tonĩ picked up her mug and sipped her coffee as she searched Pändra’s face. “I don’t believe that’s true,” Tonĩ said. “You’re my half-sister, and in my mind, that makes you—”
“Just one of Fate’s little laughs, old mucker, so I wouldn’t get yourself in a dither about it.” Pändra cocked her head to the side. “Do you know that Raymond wanted to have all of his nippers with your mum. Her Fey goes back to the Irish fairies, see, and that’s a right powerful lineage. But there were complications with your birth and your mum couldn’t have any more babies after you, so Raymond had to settle for a Pure Om Rău female, my rank mum. A kick in the ballocks for you, though, getting abandoned by your father because of the accident of your own birth.”
Tonĩ stared down into her mug and ran the tip of her finger around the rim. “I’m offering you a second chance, Pändra. A genuine offer from my heart, no strings attached, besides the requirement that you adhere to the town laws, same as everyone else. You can continue to sabotage that by attempting to hurt me…an endeavor you’ll probably succeed in if you keep using my losses against me.”
Pändra re-crossed her legs. Slowly. She couldn’t believe Tonĩ had openly handed her a weapon like that.
Tonĩ looked up. “But I sincerely hope you won’t. If you agree to this offer,” she went back to the topic at hand, “we’ll find you something useful to do. You’ll be assigned to various jobs in the community until you’ve had a chance to try a little of everything. Hopefully, this will help you figure out what suits you best. The only thing you won’t be allowed is access to our computer systems. I know it’s where your expertise lies, but there’s a security issue involved. Everything else is available.” Tonĩ slid a file folder across the desk to her. “The other requirement is that you go to twice-weekly sessions with our therapist. She comes down here from topside three times a—”
“A what? A blooming head shrink?”
“Don’t make it sound like that. Karrell’s a great person to talk to, someone to help you work out your…for lack of a better term, your Raymond issues.”
Pändra smirked. “Maybe you should go, too, then.”
Tonĩ smiled, a shade too nicely. “I’m not the one who’s trying to self-destruct.”
“Is that what I’m doing?” Sod the woman, she was frighteningly close to dead-on with that.
Tonĩ turned the mug in her hands. “As to Raymond, what kind of retribution can we expect from him for taking you?”
A laugh launched up Pändra’s throat. Raymond would hardly pass up on another opportunity to send Pändra the message she wasn’t of any cop to him. He would do exactly nothing.
“I’m sorry,” Tonĩ said after a short pause.
“Don’t be,” Pändra shot back. “I myself couldn’t give a kipper’s dick.”
Tonĩ paused again. “Okay.”
Pändra tapped her fingers on the armrests. She was getting restless to be done with this meeting. “So if I say yes to your offer, promising to be well-behaved and such, you’ll trust me at my word?”
“Yes. Until you give me cause not to.”
“I’ll be allowed to”—she swept her hand through the air—“run amuck?”
“You’ll be watched to a certain degree, of course, but not guarded outright. That is, if you agree to abide by our rules. I’d like Ţărână to feel like your home, Pändra, as much as possible.”
Pändra looked down against a rush of unexpected emotion, pretending a sudden interest in her fingernails. Home: the most frightening concept of them all. Home had never contained a sister like Tonĩ, who was, from all appearances, caring and
just, open and honest. The next oldest sister in the half-Rău brood was Opäl, ten years younger than Pändra at fourteen and born of Boian—Raymond’s pure Fey partner in their procreation program—making her a complete bum nugget, as all of Boian’s progeny were. Pändra wanted to claw the cowbag’s eyes out more than she ever imagined having a chin wag with her over tea and scones.
Pändra coughed lightly. “I suppose I’ll give it a bash.” She had no illusions that this place would ever truly become a home to her, but she was stuck here for now, by gum, and Tonĩ was right; she didn’t fancy hanging from a meat hook while she figured out her next move.
“Great.” Tonĩ beamed. “Your first assignment is with Hannah Crişan in our library. You start today. The particulars are in there.” She pointed to the file folder. “It also contains a map of the town and the community manual. I recommend you read that without delay. It’ll get you up to speed on Vârcolac culture. Any questions?”
Pändra picked up the folder. “Actually, yes. I’ve developed…there’s something that grew on my back overnight. A dragon.” The thing had surprised the devil out of her in the bathroom mirror this morning. It was fashioned out of actual scales, brilliant blue on the body and wings, red on the belly, claws, and choppers. The dragon’s noggin sat in profile over her left shoulder blade, the wings arched over the right, and the reptilian tail snaked along her lower back with its clawed feet aimed at imaginary prey to the left of her spine. It was the same kind of beast she and Mürk had seen on Thomal’s and Arc’s backs in that rubbishy hotel room, although the Vârcolacs’ dragon had been green and red.
“The dragon is a tattoo of sorts,” Tonĩ explained. “It means you’re Fey now.”
“It means…?” Pändra’s mouth dropped open. She was too shocked to stop it. I’m Fey? “But that’s impossible.”
“I have one, too, as does Ãlex.” Tonĩ pushed her intercom button. “Donree, could you please send in Dr. Jess, if he’s not too busy.”
