by Michele Hauf
The taste of her, her scent and now her touch...it was too much. The vampire in him wanted more, wanted everything now.
Chapter 17
CeCe brushed her fingers over the skin beneath Marc’s waistband, heard him hiss. She could feel his sex through their clothing, hard, pressing against her, making her insides tighten and her breath come in pants.
He’d bitten her earlier, not on purpose and not deeply, but enough that her lip still bled. She licked the blood from her lip, wondered at how the taste didn’t repel her, how the reminder that he was a vampire didn’t fill her with revulsion.
It should; she’d been raised to think of vampires as monsters...murderers. One had killed her mother.
No one, she guessed, not her father, not the pack...not Karl...would understand what she was doing with Marc and why.
Karl...the thought of him should have filled her with guilt, but she couldn’t feel shame, not for being with Marc. The experience, the emotion, was too freeing, too uplifting.
Everything she was doing was wrong, by every standard she had been raised to uphold, and she didn’t care...didn’t give one tinker’s damn...at least not right now.
Afraid that thinking too much, going too slow, might change that, she slid her hands up Marc’s chest and began popping buttons through holes. His chest was bare under the dress shirt. His skin was pale and cool as she had come to expect. She brushed her cheek against him, then pressed kisses against his chest.
His fingers wove through her hair and trailed down her back, as though he was memorizing each bump of her spine. She arched her back like a cat and dug her fingers into his sides.
He responded by pulling her more tightly against him, cupping her butt, kneading.
She was hot, flushed, and his skin was so cool. She needed to feel it against hers. She pulled her shirt over her head, then unsnapped her bra and dropped it onto the floor.
Nudity was nothing for a werewolf. They shifted from wolf to human and back again, at times not bothering with getting dressed in between.
So nudity had never been sexual for CeCe, but standing before Marc she suddenly felt shy. He wasn’t a wolf, hadn’t seen her a thousand times walking in front of the fire or into the woods.
The bathroom was warm. She hadn’t noticed it before. She placed her palm on Marc’s chest. His heart beat slowly but steadily, while hers seemed to race, threatened to jump out of her chest.
Again she ticked off their differences, and again it didn’t matter. If anything, the list made him all the more appealing.
“You’re a creature of magic, CeCe. You deserve to be free.” He whispered the words against her neck. A tingle moved down her spine. Her core tightened.
The tips of her breasts brushed against his chest...hot against cold. She shivered, and desire like she had never felt before wrapped around her, squeezing until she thought she would yelp from the pure uncontrolled pleasure pouring through her.
His fingers moved to her pants. She wiggled her hips, desperate to be free of the confinement. She reached for the waist of his pants too, pushed them down until her fingers found his firm buttocks.
Every inch of him was muscle. Slim, but strong. A secret strength the werewolves wouldn’t guess at, and that CeCe would never reveal to them.
Marc and his strengths were her secret. Not something she would share with anyone.
“Magic,” he murmured again.
“All shifters are,” she whispered. It was true. Some blamed a virus, but a virus alone couldn’t explain changing from wolf to human. Magic was in all of them. It had to be.
“Not like you.” He ran his hand down her back and over her buttocks, lifted her up so her thighs parted and his sex bumped against hers.
She tensed again, her body calling for him to enter her.
“There’s nothing about you that isn’t magic,” he continued.
Her breaths came quick, barely controlled. She dug her nails into his back, scratched him. “You too. Your thrall...you have magic, can use magic. I can’t do that.”
“No.” He shook his head and pressed a tiny kiss against her neck. “Vampires have no magic. Vampires have only a curse.”
Then he lifted her off the ground, braced her back against the wall and drove his erection deep inside her. She gasped and clawed at his shoulders. Not to be free, but to help him, to intensify the delicious wild sensation of his cool hard erection moving inside her.
He leaned forward, his fangs brushing her neck. She tilted her neck, giving him access, knowing what was coming and wanting him to know she agreed.
His fangs teased at her skin, their touch light like fingernails, trailing up and down.
His hand moved to her breast. His thumb circled one nipple.
With so many sensations happening all at once, CeCe couldn’t keep track of the tiny explosions of pleasure inside her body, like an electrical charge traveling from one spot to the other, lighting some new previously unknown frisson of excitement before moving on to another.
Then his fangs sank into her skin and everything froze for one crazy pleasure-soaked moment, before racing up again, so fast, so intense, CeCe could barely process the feelings washing over her.
Her sex tightened around his. Her body moved up and down...the wall scraping her back, her breasts brushing his chest. His lips covered the spot on her neck where he slowly sucked blood from her vein.
Every touch, breath, color and smell intensified until the world was awash with them all, one no longer identifiable from the other...all of them coming together in one big sensation that was just Marc.
She whispered his name and clawed at his back again. Her body tightened more and he drove harder and faster inside her. Then everything fell away, like bits of a curtain dropping, and she found herself back in the bathroom, her legs wrapped around Marc’s waist, her back against the tile wall, and her heart beating as if it, like she, were about to explode.
“Magic,” she whispered to him. “You are magic.” He had to be; there was no other explanation.
* * *
Marc slowly, reluctantly pulled his fangs from CeCe’s neck and swiped his tongue over the twin wounds he had left there.
“When will the wolves be back?” He’d seen them leave, didn’t know if it was a short trip or if they’d left for good—although he doubted the latter.
He didn’t want to think of them now, didn’t want to remind CeCe of them either, but he needed to know, needed to warn her about the place on her neck.
She wouldn’t want her pack to see it. A truth that made him sad, sick, and reminded him how alone he was and would always be. CeCe would walk out of this bathroom away from him and what they had shared and back into her life with the pack...and its alpha.
As he feared, awareness flashed through her previously sleepy eyes. She clapped her hand to her neck. “I don’t know when I’ll see them.”
“Werewolves heal fast, right? You should be fine.”
She unwrapped her legs from his waist. Cool air replaced her warmth. He pressed his lips together and tried not to care.
Her feet touched the ground and he turned away. He couldn’t watch her pull on her clothes, witness her eagerness to cover herself, to put what they had shared behind them.
“I...” With his back turned, he couldn’t see what she was doing.
“We need to go to the woods....”
“Ah, yes. The treasure.” They couldn’t be forgetting the treasure. Once they had it, she could leave. His jaw tensed. They’d made love, but nothing had changed. Nothing could change.
Her hand touched his shoulder.
Realizing he was still undressed, he bent and pulled on his clothes.
He couldn’t stand to feel her warmth now, knowing how fleeting it would be. He’d been stupid to allo
w himself this hour of weakness. It would just make her leaving later all that much harder.
“We can go now. I just need...” What? A moment to forget her touch? Her taste? To remind himself that she didn’t belong to him or in his world?
The sun was high in the sky, a time of day he avoided, but there was no time to waste. Every minute he spent with her would make it that much harder to walk away.
* * *
Confused and embarrassed, CeCe hurried down the hall and past the table where she and Marc had sat. The waitress, who had stood a few feet away as CeCe kissed Marc, was kissed by Marc, glanced at her as if surprised, then moved out of her way.
Feeling cold, then hot, CeCe pushed open the door and stepped outside. The streets of Cave Vista were empty. Seeing them made CeCe feel empty too. Empty and alone.
She was a werewolf and Marc was a vampire. He was right to be distant. She had, selfishly, put him at risk. The pack would go insane if they learned of what she had done. Karl would...her hand rose to the chain Karl had given her, but touched nothing but cloth. No lump under her clothing, no heavy weight around her neck.
The chain was missing.
Marc had removed it. He’d slipped it up and over her head, then dropped it on the ground.
And she’d let him.
Karl would never understand that. The pack would never understand that. How could she expect them to? It was wrong. What she had done was wrong.
And if the alpha found it missing, if Marc was found with it— She turned and rushed back through the diner. She pushed past the waitress and jumped in front of a man in overalls as his hand reached out to push open the bathroom door.
“Excuse me,” she muttered, wishing she had a vampire’s skill of hiding in plain sight.
The man blinked but didn’t comment and she hurried past him, into the bathroom.
The window was open and the small room was empty—no Marc and no chain.
She’d lost it, and it appeared she had also lost Marc.
* * *
Marc sat in his pitch-dark motel room, waiting for the ache in his heart to heal.
He’d let himself get close, let himself taste a dream.
He knew better, and now he was paying the price.
He gripped the alpha’s chain in his fist, wished he could squeeze the metal to bits, wished that would change what it symbolized.
He would have to return it to CeCe, he knew that. He should have gone after her when he found it lying on the floor after she left, but he couldn’t...couldn’t hand her another man’s promise, another man’s claim.
By taking it, though, he had endangered her.
Her bites might heal, she might wash his scent from her body, but the alpha wouldn’t miss the fact that his chain no longer hung from her neck.
Marc should take it to her now, brave the sun and the throbbing pain in his head it created.
He picked up the chain and flung it across the room. It smashed into a lamp. The light’s pottery base exploded, crockery and chain crashing to the floor.
With a growl, Marc jerked his laptop from under the bed, opened his internet calling service and clicked on the Fringe account.
No response.
He slammed the laptop’s lid shut and let the dark engulf him again. CeCe would be looking for him, wondering why he hadn’t followed her, wondering why he wasn’t going with her to find the treasure.
He didn’t care about the treasure. Didn’t care about anything but forgetting.
He would take CeCe’s chain back to her, and look for the treasure, but not now, not yet.
When night fell, he’d be stronger, ready to pretend he didn’t care, that the chain and what it symbolized meant nothing....
Maybe by then he’d even believe it.
* * *
Marc awoke to shuffling footsteps in his room. Someone...a number of someones, he corrected...stealing through the dark room, trying to find him, he guessed, without flipping on a light.
Unfortunately for them, he had only been resting, not lost in a vampire’s dead sleep. He lay still, keeping his eyes closed until he could pinpoint where the would-be slayers were, how many and what species.
Species hit him first—werewolf, and not CeCe. No, this scent lacked the special spice.
Besides, these were males. The alpha and his thugs, Marc guessed.
Unsure of how well the wolves could see in the dark, he kept his eyes closed and relied on his vampire hunger to assure him of the number. Their heartbeats called out to him...one, two...three in all. One missing.
The alpha, Marc had to guess.
Did he wait outside? Or was he with CeCe? Had he noticed the missing chain, Marc’s scent on her? Was she being held? Punished? Worse?
Anger and fear for the female werewolf swelled inside Marc. His fangs lengthened and his eyes flew open.
Dark was as clear to him as bright light was to a human; he spotted the intruders immediately.
The alpha was with them and he and two of his minions were almost on top of Marc.
He surged to a sit, then bounced and rebounded onto his feet.
“Grab him,” the alpha yelled.
Marc kicked the closest wolf in the head, then spun and jumped, clearing the others as they bent forward thinking the vampire was still lying on the mattress waiting patiently for their attack. He landed on the floor behind them.
“Uncover the windows.” The alpha again, this time his voice cold and determined.
Wood popped as one of the wolves pried at the boards Marc had nailed over the large front window.
Marc laughed and searched for the wolf who had given the order. The light wouldn’t hurt Marc, but the alpha didn’t know that. He’d given his command with every intention of watching Marc disintegrate into ash in front of him.
But Marc was happy he had. Happy because it gave Marc permission to do what he’d been wanting to do since the alpha had backhanded CeCe in front of him.
Fangs extended, he rushed the wolf. He shoved the other male back against the wall, but the alpha was ready. His hands wrapped around Marc’s throat, holding the vampire back, keeping his fangs from making contact with the werewolf’s throat.
Not caring how tightly the wolf held his neck or how long, Marc took a step backward, then plunged forward again, smashing the werewolf into the wall a second time.
The alpha’s head crunched into the concrete-block wall. He growled, and his thumbs dug into Marc’s throat.
“Try again, alpha. I don’t need air,” he muttered.
“How about light? How do you feel about that?” One of the wolves working on the window jerked a board free. It clattered onto the floor and light streamed into the room.
All of the wolves froze, waited, and Marc used the moment to his advantage. He surged forward again. His fangs scraped across the alpha’s neck, tearing his skin and leaving twin trails of blood streaming down his neck.
The alpha cursed and swung, struck Marc in the temple. Crazed with the need for revenge and fed by the scent of the wolf’s blood, Marc barely felt the blow. He hissed and leaped.
A board smashed into his chest, another wolf swinging at him, like a baseball all-star going for the fence.
Marc staggered backward and hissed. Then he charged again. All three wolves faced him now. He knew he didn’t have a chance, knew they would capture him, hold him and most likely drive a stake through his chest. His only goal was to take one or more of them out too.
And his sights were set on the alpha.
The werewolf saw him coming. He bent at the waist and rushed forward, catching Marc in the middle. The vampire flew up and over the other male’s back, tumbled onto the floor, and just as quickly somersaulted onto his feet.
He spun again. The light from t
he window caught him in the eye, blinding him. A board zipped past his face...a swing, but a miss.
Marc threw out his hand, grabbed the strip of wood and jerked it from the werewolf’s hand, then he flung it into the far corner of the room, onto the broken lamp and the alpha’s chain.
The alpha’s fist smashed into his temple, knocking Marc sideways. He grabbed the closest werewolf by the arm and twisted his body, so Marc’s back was to the werewolf’s chest and his fangs were descending toward his wrist.
“Now,” the alpha yelled.
Used to such games, Marc didn’t look up. He stayed focused on the prey he had in hand. Something cold and heavy wrapped around his throat. A chain, iron, and based on its stench, coated with garlic.
Marc’s eyes watered; bile rose in his throat. Trying to ignore the smell of garlic, he pushed against the binding. His skin burned where the herb touched him. Not a flaming burn, but an annoyance.
An annoyance he could ignore, but the werewolves were ready now and working together. As he pushed against the pull of the chain, tried to reposition himself to take down the werewolf whose arm he still held, another length of chain fell past his face. A hand grabbed his hair and his throat was pulled back. He hissed...a mistake and exactly what the werewolves had wanted.
The chain tightened against his open mouth. The wolf pulled on it, wedged the metal links between his jaws. He jerked his head side to side, but couldn’t dislodge the mass.
The werewolves had him muzzled, made it impossible for him to bite, impossible for him to do anything
Within seconds, he was pulled onto his back and more chains were wrapped around his arms and legs. Shackled head to toe in garlic-drenched iron chains, he could do nothing but lie there and await his fate.
Chapter 18
The alpha stepped over Marc, stood with one foot on each side of the vampire’s body.
“What do you know of this, vampire?” He pulled a cloth-wrapped object from his pocket.
Unable to do anything else, Marc waited.
“This is how you killed Russell.” The alpha unrolled the cloth, let the object inside fall onto Marc’s chest. Silver flashed in the sunlight that now leaked into the room, and metal clinked against metal.
