by Tami Lund
“Hello, Chala.” Gavin’s voice had been a purr. The sound had sent shivers down her spine. She knew he was evil without the curse, but she couldn’t seem to remember it whenever he spoke to her. She’d found his gravely, sandpaper voice sexy from the first moment she’d ever met him, and no matter how evil he was, that would never change.
“Gavin,” she said a little breathlessly.
He chuckled. “You like danger, do you, Chala? I’ve come close to killing you how many times, and your panties are wet right now, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
That gave him pause. He hadn’t expected her to admit it. Which was exactly what she had hoped for.
“You still want me, too,” she said boldly into the phone.
“Maybe I want to fuck you first,” he said, sounding as though he were carefully choosing his words. “But your protector makes that rather difficult. I’ve decided it’s best to just kill you and be done with it.”
“What if I told you I could get away from him?” she suggested, grateful he had played right into her plans.
She heard his sharp intake of breath. He wanted it. She could only hope the temptation would be enough.
“That sounds . . . dangerous.”
“For me or for you?”
“Probably both of us.”
“We aren’t in New Orleans anymore.”
“I know,” Gavin replied.
She hadn’t been surprised. Just as she knew he was lurking somewhere nearby, so he also knew where she was. The connection between them had not gone away with the curse. It was that fact that gave Sydney hope. Her mate was still in there, somewhere.
“So you know where we are?”
“I know you’ve run back to the security of your pack. Such that it is.”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“What do you want? For me to slip in your bedroom window? You want to relive some of our more . . . memorable moments?”
“That would be nice.”
Gavin chuckled, gravel over silk. Sydney shivered, the sound spiking her desire for the man he had once been. The man she was determined to bring back.
“You think I’m that stupid? Do you fancy yourself in love with an idiot, Chala?”
“No,” Sydney said defensively. “I can get away.”
There was a pregnant pause, during which Sydney’s heart beat unusually fast.
“You would do that?” he finally asked. “Knowing you’re sneaking away to your death?”
“You won’t kill me,” Sydney insisted, baiting him, and at the same time, desperately hoping it was true. “I don’t believe you will.”
“Then you are a foolish Chala,” he snapped, sounding irritated. As if he didn’t really want her to make it easy for him. As if he didn’t really want to kill her.
“Fine,” she replied, letting her temper show. “Don’t do it then. But this is your only chance. After this, they’re tucking me away someplace far, far away. And then they’re coming after you. And at this point, they don’t really care if they curse you or kill you.”
Maybe it had been the conviction in her voice. Or perhaps the temptation had been too much for him to resist. Whatever the reason, he had abruptly changed his mind and decided it would be “amusing” to meet her. And then he had chosen the location, although she’d guided him somewhat. It couldn’t be too far from Killian’s home, because Brandon and Prim needed to be able to reach her in time. But it had to be far enough away for Gavin not to suspect a trap. She figured he would anyway, and that was fine. She was meeting him alone, at least for the moment.
She guided the truck into the parking lot of the old motel. She could sense him. He was near, watching her, undoubtedly. She took a deep breath and climbed out of the vehicle. The florescent light over the entrance to the motel office flickered ominously, making her feel as if she were walking across the set of an old horror movie.
She stepped into the office, grabbing the chipped Formica counter to keep from toppling over in her too-high heels. The floor was covered in a brown, threadbare carpet that she suspected had once been some other color. A tiny sign on the counter announced ‘Vacancy.’ It was a basic plastic sign that could be flipped when necessary to state, ‘No Vacancy.’ A bell was parked on the counter next to the sign. Sydney tapped the bell and the sound reverberated throughout the small room.
She waited, her nerves strung taut, but no one appeared. She lifted her hand to push the bell again, when she spotted the note.
Room 214
A key lay next to the sign. It wasn’t a key card, but a real key with a red plastic tag attached, the number 214 inscribed in black. Sydney looked round, but there wasn’t anyone else in the vicinity. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes, allowing her senses to open wide.
He was close. Waiting. She hoped he at least let her get into the room. If he grabbed her while she was still in the parking lot, then she knew his intention was to kill her, not sleep with her. And then her plan would really, truly be for naught. She still had a solid thirty minutes before Lily even brought her absence to Brandon’s attention. Allowing for argument, planning, and travel time, she figured she had a minimum of sixty minutes before Brandon and Prim came to her rescue.
Maybe she shouldn’t have asked for a full hour.
She dawdled as long as she figured she could get away with, then grabbed the key and strode out to the truck, so she could pull it around the side of the building, where a map on the Formica counter had indicated the room she wanted was located. He was watching her. She could feel it. She added a little sway to her step, like she saw Prim do so effortlessly.
Her hands were shaking so badly she had a hard time inserting the key into the ignition. A hand suddenly wrapped around her own, steadying it enough to manage the key. She gasped, and heard the rusty chuckle she knew so well.
“Surprised, Chala? You came here to meet me, remember?”
“Y–Yes,” she stuttered. “I–I just didn’t expect—”
“That I would be wise enough to cover my ass? Drive,” he ordered. He was seated behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck. Lust warred with fear in her mind, and she knew he could sense it.
“Around back. Room 318.”
“I thought you left a key for me in the office,” she said as she drove. She’d purposely left the note, for Brandon and Prim.
“I know you did,” Gavin replied. “Go. Inside. Now.”
Sydney climbed out of the truck, stumbling on the high heels. Gavin grabbed her arm and crab walked her toward the door to the motel room.
“Interesting outfit, Chala. Are you wearing anything under that coat?”
“Maybe,” she said, a tad defensively.
Gavin chuckled again. “Flirting is not your forte. Too bad. I like a woman who knows what she wants and then goes after it.”
Sydney considered objecting to his words. She hadn’t had any clue what she wanted when she and Gavin met, and he hadn’t seemed to mind at all. In fact, he seemed to like being in charge, guiding her, teaching her, both in bed and out.
“I know what I want,” she said instead. “I want you to come back to me.” She looked down at the key in her hand. “Whose key did I take?”
“A trap,” Gavin replied, as he prowled through the room like a suspicious cat. “For your protector, when he comes looking for you.”
Sydney’s insides turned to ice. “I told you I came alone. You saw me. You were in the truck,” she protested.
“I know you came alone. I’ve been watching you. But your protector is not a stupid shifter. When he realizes his Chala is gone, he’ll come looking for you. And while I am killing you in Room 318, he’ll be getting his in Room 214.”
Sydney sucked in a breath and Gavin chuck
led. “You didn’t really think I wouldn’t take precautions, did you?”
She hadn’t thought it through so well, apparently. Covert operations were clearly not her strong suit.
“So, let’s see it,” Gavin said abruptly. He threw himself into a chair near the door, crossed one ankle over the other knee, and rested his chin in his hand, as if he expected to watch a show of some sort. “Let’s see what’s under the coat. You’re awfully tarted up. I hope I’m not disappointed.”
“Have I ever disappointed you?” Sydney asked irritably.
Gavin paused, as if he were considering the question. “There’s always a first time,” he finally said. “Which will, of course, be the last time, as well.”
“You told me once I could never disappoint you,” Sydney shot back.
“Is the little Chala growing brave? Take it off. Now,” he commanded. The tone of his voice indicated he was through with the verbal byplay.
Sydney took a deep breath and brought up an image of Prim. The Fate was so effortless in everything she did, and emanated sex just by walking across the room. Sydney knew she was best described as “fresh faced” and “all-American” and “perky and cute,” but never “sex and candy,” like Brandon described Prim.
Her movements were stilted, but she managed to untie the sash of the rain slicker and push it off her shoulders without, she determined, looking like too much of a dork. Gavin’s eyes started to glow faintly, so she must be doing something right. She shifted from foot to foot nervously, waiting for more instruction.
“New outfit, Chala?” His gravelly voice sounded slightly strained. His hungry gaze never left her body. She fancied he was trying to devour her with his eyes. Then she squelched that thought. Too close to a very real possibility. Except it would be with claws and teeth instead of eyes.
She cleared her throat and did a slow turn. “You like?”
“Has anyone else seen you in this outfit?” He growled deep in his throat, sounding possessive. Good. Possession was good, right? Shifters didn’t kill what they believed they possessed, right?
“Just you,” she assured him. “This is the first time I’ve worn it.”
Gavin’s eyes glowed a little bit brighter. “Take it off.”
“Uh . . .”
“Take it off or die.”
Sydney wondered how in the world she could be attracted to someone so dangerous. And yet, she was so turned on at the moment, it was as if he were stripping for her. Which gave her an idea. When this was all over . . .
In the meantime, she stripped. It felt awkward at first, as she fumbled with the ribbons on the back of the corset, swaying her hips at the same time. But when the front of the garment spread and her breasts spilled out, she heard Gavin’s sharp intake of breath and it gave her encouragement that whatever she was doing, she was doing it right.
She pushed the corset down just enough that the top created a sort of shelf for her breasts. She was still amazed at how the garment could make her look as if she had an abundance of boobs, when in reality, she was simply . . . average.
But Gavin didn’t think so, she reminded herself. He liked her breasts. He told her so regularly. She cupped one with each hand and watched him as her thumbs grazed the nipples. They tightened and peaked, and she and Gavin simultaneously sucked in a sharp breath.
She found she was enjoying herself, which was crazy, given the circumstances. Yet the strip tease was a turn on for her, as well as for Gavin. It made her feel sexy, and she liked the way his gaze tracked her every move, while his body remained as still as stone, as if he were afraid to move, as if he didn’t want to miss a single second of the act.
She should be frightened out of her mind, but in reality, she wanted nothing more than for Gavin to close the gap between them and make love to her as they’d never done before. Wetness pooled between her thighs. She clenched her inner muscles and felt lust spiral through her body. All he would have to do is touch her, and she was sure she would come undone, almost instantly.
Getting into the spirit, Sydney rocked her hips and twirled on the stiletto heels, turning her back to Gavin, so he could watch while she reached around and worked at the zipper on the tiny leather skirt, far tighter and far shorter than anything she’d ever worn before. It made her feel sexy. Sliding the zipper down and exposing the top of her pink lacy panties practically gave her an orgasm. She pushed the skirt down to pool on the floor at her ankles and between the space of one heartbeat and another, she found herself lying face down on the brown floral print comforter on the bed.
A heavy, heated weight covered her body, and for an agonizing moment, she was certain Gavin would kill her. The thought made her cry out in distress.
“You were right, Chala,” the gravelly voice whispered into her ear. “I do want you. And I’m going to have you. I want you to come before I kill you. Think you can do that for me?”
His rough, calloused hand scraped over her breast, roughly manhandling it for a moment, before sliding down to her abdomen, and then lower still, where he cupped her through her wet panties.
Her cry of distress turned into a low moan of pleasure.
Gavin buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. “The mingled scent of fear and sex,” he rasped, “is truly the greatest aphrodisiac. I’m going to fuck you, Chala. And you’re going to enjoy it.”
“Yes.” She moaned as she lifted her hips in invitation. “Please.”
He bit her shoulder as his finger slid along the outside of her panties. She wiggled and gasped, her body begging for release. She was only dimly aware of the pain in her shoulder, but the feel of his tongue scraping along her skin as he licked at the small wound he’d just inflicted caused her entire body to shudder with pleasure.
“The Chala likes it rough,” Gavin murmured as he trailed tiny nibbles over her shoulder, under her hair and up her neck.
“I like it with you,” she corrected breathlessly.
He pressed his erection more insistently against her backside. “This is going to be my greatest kill ever.” He grabbed the crotch of her panties and pulled. The flimsy material gave way easily, and he tossed the scrap of lace and satin over his shoulder before returning his hand to her hip.
He forced her knees apart with his legs, and then she felt the loss of his heat as he sat back on his haunches and unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. A moment later, he was back, and she could feel his erection, insistently pressing against her opening. She impulsively lifted her hips and his hand cupped her thigh.
“Gavin, please.” She wasn’t begging him not to kill her, she realized. She wanted to feel him. She wanted him inside her. She needed him. She couldn’t think beyond the imminent orgasm looming just over the horizon.
“O-oh,” he cooed. “Beg me, Chala. Beg me. Beg—” He lost control of himself, grabbed her hips and pistoned into her. She was so hot and wet, there was no resistance as he slid inside as if on a sea of melted butter.
Sydney gasped at the intrusion. Her hands curled into the comforter and she bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. Her orgasm welled almost immediately.
“Are you that turned on?” he asked as he ruthlessly pumped into her. “Do you want it that badly, that you’re willing to lay with a Rakshasa? What kind of Chala are you?” He taunted her as he thrust, over and over.
“Gavin!” she finally cried out, unable to keep it in. “Oh, Gavin!”
“Yeah, Chala,” he said the words between thrusts. “You like it, don’t you? I can tell. You like it. The little Chala likes to take it from her Rakshasa.”
“Yes,” she cried out. “Yes. Oh God, don’t stop!”
Suddenly, Gavin began pumping with renewed vigor. “Damn it,” he swore, his voice low as a growl, as he grasped her hips and clung to her, thrusting uncontrollably. He momentarily lost all control as
his own orgasm overcame him in an unexpected rush. His body stiffened, and he shouted out his own release, surprising her by calling out her name. Hope momentarily filled her, until Gavin collapsed on top of her, not even bothering to try to keep from crushing her with his weight.
Reality hit her like a splash of cold water. Fabulous sex or not, she knew damn well the uncursed version of Gavin would kill her, now that he’d gotten his rocks off and could think clearly again.
Where the hell were Brandon and Prim?
Chapter 14
“We need to talk,” Brandon demanded as he burst into the bedroom where Prim had been hiding out for most of the day. She’d organized the closet. She’d made the bed. She’d dusted and arranged the various beauty products situated on the small vanity in the bedroom. And now she was currently unpacking and re-packing the contents of her luggage.
All to avoid thinking about what had transpired this morning.
You pushed him away, she reminded herself yet again. You’re the one who decided he was so damn perfect he’d make a great mate for Lily.
She hadn’t expected him to go so willingly and so quickly, though. But he had. He’d hovered protectively over her and Sydney all damn day, flirting and teasing and clearly warming to his future mate.
Prim hated it. She hated it, hated it, hated it.
But you wanted it, a voice whispered in her head, Yes, but—
“About what?” Prim said coolly, as she resumed sorting through the contents of the suitcase lying open on the bed.
“Us.”
“Brandon, I told you this morning—”
“I know what you said this morning. You told me to stop sleeping with you. I think I know why you said that, too.” He advanced into the room, slowly.
“Of course you do. It’s because—”
