by Lynde Lakes
Her own love affair with her husband was stronger than ever. On their fifth wedding anniversary, he told her to get dressed up and meet him at the renovated and very classy Mission Hotel, one of his latest acquisitions. The moment she entered the lobby, she spied him coming toward her. Although he looked every bit the successful business owner, he had a far more seductive roll to play tonight—her dashing lothario.
And he was definitely up to the role, decked out like a macho movie idol at The Oscars. The black fedora angled low over his forehead gave him a mysterious quality. And he was as devastating as ever in his Italian-silk black suit, white shirt, and red tie. Without taking her eyes off him, she sensed that every female within viewing distance was ogling him. It made her proud rather than jealous. After all, she was the one he’d fallen for and had even been willing to give up his life for. In a carpet-eating wide, feral stride, he joined her. He lifted her hand high, twirled her around, and gave a low whistle. She’d worn her backless little black cocktail dress with an onyx beaded bodice and a modest slit up the side of the skirt. On her feet, she wore strappy high-heeled sandals sprinkled with glossy beads that matched the bodice of her dress. He beamed. She knew he’d be pleased; the outfit was one of his favorites.
He escorted her up to the penthouse terrace where he had pre-ordered a special dinner. Snappy waiters in white jackets served them with a flourish. After dessert of chocolate mousse cake, he handed her a black velvet box with Tiffany’s emblazoned in gold letters. With goose bumps of excitement rising on her arms, she opened the box. It was a white-gold bracelet encircled with delicate diamonds. “Oh, Damon, it’s beautiful.”
After she ooed and ahhed over it, she shoved the gift she’d chosen, with much thought and love, shyly toward him. The little white box with a red velvet ribbon contained merely a three-by-five photo. “You’ll have to wait until we get home to see the real thing, but the set is a replica of the chess set used by the world’s top chess player, Antonio Lomita. Knights and bishops are made of marble and the board is hand-carved insets of the finest polished woods.”
“I’m blown away,” he said huskily. “The perfect gift from my perfect wife.”
He came to her, drew her to her feet and into his arms. Their bodies blended as he wrapped his male warmth around her. He brought his mouth down on hers. His kiss tasted like rich coffee and chocolate. After a kiss that made her knees weak, they toasted with a Napa Valley prime sparkling champagne and danced to the music floating up from the terrace of the Garden Room, a cocktail lounge just below the penthouse.
Swaying with his body pressed close to hers ignited fires, and he danced her into the huge suite’s massive bedroom. She inhaled the scent of dozens of fragrant pink roses. The king-sized bed, with turned down burgundy silken sheets, was scattered with pink petals.
Damon danced her to the edge of bed. Cool silk brushed the back of her knees. He stroked her arms, lowering the straps of her dress, his hands warm and seductive. With a savagery that took her off guard, he pulled her closer. Searing heat shot between them. There was a whisper of the zipper, and then he lowered her dress to expose the strapless black bra, lacy garter belt, and dark nylons. She stepped back slightly to allow him a better view of her body delicately encased in the sheer lingerie—and to have enough space between them for her to slowly slide off his red silk tie.
His eyes blazed with expectation. “I won’t disappoint you,” she said in her sexiest purr.
She unbuttoned his shirt and roughly stripped it from him. His heart was pounding almost as hard as hers. She smoothed his moist, steel-like abs to calm him…and herself while trying to concentrate on his words. “Nor will I, you,” he said, his low rumble driving her wild. “Happy anniversary, my love. May we share all our days into eternity.” He caught her face between his hands and gazed down into her eyes. “I know I’m still a controlling beast, but I do try to curb it. Sometimes it’s a losing battle because that’s what men do when they love a woman and the beautiful children she bore them.”
She smiled through the tears sliding down her face. “So you’ve tried to convince me. Many times.”
His gaze deepened, and then his mouth covered hers, stealing her breath, her sanity. Love and lust exploded inside her as he increased the delicious pressure. His tongue probed and played sensual havoc with her nerve endings. Beneath her lacy bra, her erect nipples begged for attention as his bare chest pressed tighter against her breasts. His erection pressed against her thigh, reminding her of the first time he’d stood naked before her when they’d morphed from wolves into their human nudity after a weird and provocative night in the dungeon together. Damon and the events of that night had awakened new desires and feral lust. Now, for her girls’ sake, she wanted to be with him without the fear and weirdness associated with that night.
His mouth closed over hers once again, hot and demanding. She clung to the dizzying euphoria as his lips trailed down to the swell of her breasts.
“It’ll all work out,” he said in a ragged voice. “For us, for our girls.” He lifted his head and hovered close, his warm breath mingling with hers.
She pressed against him, inviting his passion, his power. “I’m counting on it.”
They climbed onto the bed and faced each other, knees and thighs branding one another’s flesh. Her core heated to a shivery liquid as their kisses grew more frantic. He laid her back prone on silken sheets. Wild with fever, she arched her back and thrust her hips forward, inviting him to love her. She moaned in ecstasy as he explored the smooth contour of her belly and the moist triangle of curly hair with his hands, his lips.
He lowered her to the pillow, kissing her, caressing her as his hand slid between her thighs. She arched her hips to meet his seeking fingers.
He slid on top of her. Eager for the hot hardness that throbbed against her apex, she arched again. He thrust her hands above her head and French kissed her for mind-numbing seconds. Her limbs went weak, her core, receptive, quivery. She clung to him as he gently entered her and began the slow, rhythmic dance of passion.
When she thought she couldn’t stand a second more of her rising, agonizing desire, he released her hands. She quickly slid them down his muscled chest and around his waist…then lower…and dug her fingers into his hard, unyielding buttocks, crying out as he brought her to an unrivaled pinnacle. She exploded again and again, shattering into so many pieces that she knew she’d never be the same. When she thought she couldn’t take any more crazed pleasure, Damon convulsed inside her and together they plunged over the edge into a grateful release that left them weak, yet still clinging to one another with their last ounce of strength.
Damon rolled off her and they lay side by side, breathing hard and trying to catch their breath. After a few moments, he drew her into his arms. When the afterglow faded, she looked up at him. He winked at her with his thickly-lashed eyes then kissed her nose.
“Mother of my precious girls and wife of my life, you take my breath away.”
Hunters kept their tension high and they knew they would have to stay ever vigilant. Still, the years flew by and life settled into a smooth pattern. Even though things appeared to proceed on an even keel, Angela felt trapped by the shrinking deadline when the curse would attack her girls. It also worried her that combining the curses may have changed the way the affliction would manifest itself. What if the impact was stronger, deadlier?
On the evening of Victoria and Valerie’s eighteenth birthday when the sun slipped lower between the mountains and the sky burst into a deep satin palate, blood-red against the peak of Mt. Baldy, she decided it was too risky to wait any longer. She took the journals to the girls’ room and eased into the subject of the family curses. “For years, the community suspected your dad and his family of doing all sorts of evil around here. In reality, they never harmed anyone. And your dad actually became a hero.”
After she told them of Damon’s heroic deeds and explained how they rid themselves of their curses, she said, “The
moment you see a change, you must come to one of us immediately. We have ways to help you, and your dad’s been working on a serum to control the changes. Perhaps by the time the curse shows up, he’ll have found a cure. Do you have any questions?”
They were smiling like Cheshire cats and exchanged amused looks.
Valerie grinned at Victoria. “Should we tell her?”
“What’s going on?” Angela asked, feeling a prickling along her nerve endings.
“We’ve been experiencing mild signs of morphing since we were thirteen,” Valerie said. “It’s a real kick.”
Victoria laughed. “I found the journals when I was ten and we read all about it. We didn’t believe it until we actually started changing. It was only a partial change, thickening hair, astonishing nail growth, superior hearing—and we could run like the wind. It was a trip.”
Angela’s stomach knotted. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“We didn’t want to worry you. You know how you get all paranoid about us sometimes.”
“Why haven’t I seen it happening?”
“We stayed in our room during the morphing. And we washed our hair a lot with frizz-tamer conditioner. It was easy to keep our hands behind our backs and out of sight, but we had trouble with our sharp incisors and had to keep our mouths closed more than usual.”
Valerie grinned. “And that was especially difficult for Victoria. Not for me so much. Since I seldom get to talk around her.”
“This isn’t something to joke about. Until your dad and his team of scientists find a cure for this, you must master the challenge of sublimating and channeling your lycanthropic impulses into positive and constructive outlets.”
They laughed and, in unison, asked, “Say, what?”
“Control your actions. You may have desires and needs—”
A sharp intake of breath from the doorway stopped her mid-sentence. She looked up. Damon stood listening, his expression dark. He scowled at the twins. “You should have told us. We can help you. Your Auntie Nola is a spiritualist and she has the power to lift your curses and free you.”
Angela noticed he didn’t mention the curse would have to be transferred onto him.
“It’s okay, Dad. We don’t change that much.”
“You will. You’re apparently in the early stages. Until all this is settled, from sunset to sunrise, during any full moon, you’re both confined to your rooms.”
Victoria shot to her feet. “That’s not fair. We haven’t done anything.”
“It’ll be temporary. I’ll make an appointment with Madam Nola right away.”
“Geez, Dad,” Victoria said. “That’s why we didn’t tell you. You always make a big deal of things.”
“It is a big deal. And we’re going to handle it before it gets worse.”
Chapter Six
Lazar pounded the lab table with his powerful fist, making all the colorful glass vials rattle. Damn it, he had to control his flash temper. But since the contractor and his crew sealed off the tunnels, he hadn’t had an opportunity to get close to the girls. The night he siphoned blood from Valerie years ago had proven his suspicions. But he needed current information and samples of their ripened blood.
Fortunately, the twins’ friends could come and go like they owned the place. If Damon and Angela only knew that the loyalty of one of Valerie’s trusted friends could be bought so cheaply, so easily. Yesterday, he’d hired a three-day sober alcoholic to approach the boy for him. Using the alky-dupe, no one could ever pin anything on him. And once the boozer completed the simple task of go-between, he’d put him out of his misery.
The derelict paid the pimple-faced hotshot fifty bucks to slip a microchip listening device into the twins’ room. The bug picked up the conversation loud and clear. He hadn’t expected to hear such an illuminating earful so soon. The girl’s morphing had begun. One way or another, he intended to get blood samples of both lupine twins. It was vital now that they were experiencing symptoms.
From what was said into the micro bug, Madam Nola might have the power to lift the curse from the girls before he could run his tests on them. He was too close to a breakthrough to let her foul up his studies and keep him from his goal—success and unlimited money. Two foreign governments were in a bidding war for the serum.
Lazar shook his fist in the air. That screw up Dudley had failed to get rid of the gabby spiritualist. Now it looked like he’d have to handle her himself. An added bonus would be the acquisition of the crystal ball. It’d be a help to know events in advance. He had to act soon.
He opened his private journal, which he shredded nightly. Writing his thoughts down helped him zero in on the steps to a solid plan of action. He extended an arm and looked at his long fingers. For him, each finger represented a path about two degrees apart, and each would take him in a different direction. His little finger was crooked from a childhood disease and epitomized the most often traveled path. Reviewing the fingers now was a bit like hiking to the top of Mt. Baldy and then looking down at all the different paths he could have taken and noting that, as usual, he’d taken the most crooked and treacherous.
He laughed to himself. Funny, how he kept getting on the crooked path. He was lucky he’d made it this far in life with the risks he’d taken. He chuckled again. As long as luck remained his partner, he could do whatever the hell he wanted.
Damon made the appointment for first thing in the morning. The news about his girls and something in his bones warned him it was imperative to see Madam Nola right away.
When he, Angela, and the girls met with the medium, she gestured for them to take a seat around the small, round table with the black-lace tablecloth. As usual, she touched something under the table and the room darkened and incense sprayed from a nearby plant. The girls giggled. Damon sent them a warning look. They choked off the snigger as Madam Nola slowly and ceremoniously slipped the velvet cover from the crystal ball sitting in the center of the table. She muttered Egyptian words as she floated her hands across the globe. Flames and blackness licked at gray shadows. Sounds of ghastly cries and moans swirled around the room. Then a cascade of flaming ash hovered over a faceless man and morphed into him. “What the heck is that?” Victoria asked, her eyes as wide as her sister’s.
“I don’t know what that means,” Madam Nola said with a trembling voice. “But it looks like an evil spirit has taken over a body.” Her painted face paled, making her look like a sad clown. “Something devilish and evil is brewing against your family.” Whispering voices swirled around the room. Madam Nola’s eyes widened. “Now the whispering spirits are warning me that the evil is against me as well.” She was silent a moment, as though gathering her courage, and then she said, “It will be risky to try to lift the twins’ curse onto Damon, and it may not work. I’ve never worked with a triad relationship. The love is different and the circumstances are different. However, I’ll give it my best shot.”
Victoria opened her mouth to speak, but Damon stopped her with a sharp look. “I have faith in you, Madam Nola,” he said.
Madam Nola laughed. “I think Angela would agree that you have faith in everyone until they fail you. Sometimes giving your trust so easily can be fatal.”
Damon forced a smile. “I still have faith in you. I know you’ll do your best.”
“Absolutely. And since I’ve taken the girls into my heart and accepted them as my adopted nieces, I won’t charge you for the ritual. But I need two days to plan and gather the needed materials.”
Damon was dying to ask whose ashes she would use this time, but a comment like that would unglue Angela and encourage the girls to ask questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. Perhaps it was best not to joke about this very serious situation.
Madam Nola’s eyes glistened as if she knew what he was thinking. “For safety’s sake, due to all the evil in the ground behind your mansion,” she said, “we shall perform the ritual up at Lake Arrowhead. Come by with your family and pick me up at four tomorrow morning. I want
to arrive at the lake early and be set up by dawn.”
After they left Madam Nola’s home, Victoria said, “I love Madam Nola, but do you guys really believe all that mumbo jumbo?”
Before Damon could respond, Valerie said, “Why would you doubt her after what’s happened to us?”
“She proved herself to me long ago,” Damon said with a growl. “And it’s crucial we give this a try. We’re probably months away from perfecting a serum to help you girls. So this is the best option at hand.”
“What will the serum do?” Valerie asked.
“It won’t cure you, but it will help you control the morphing and, if we’re lucky, eventually fight off the symptoms of the curse. But that could be years away.”
As usual, Dr. Simon L. Lazar, head of the science team, remained after the others went home. It was the best part of the day, when he could run his secret tests. Blood carried the very essence of an individual, and he was very close to reaching his goal. The room suddenly felt icy. It was as though the chilling winds coming off the San Gorgonio Mountains in dead winter was blowing through the stone walls. He pulled on a jacket. Within seconds, the air above him turned blast furnace hot. The heat entered his head and curled down through his body. His skin burned as though licked by flames. He stiffened as he felt an evil soul join his. Violent images swirled in his mind—blood and the ripped out throats of many women. His greed took on a new depth. Overpowering hatred grew within him like a cancer, and he lusted for revenge. His goal was no longer merely money. He wanted Damon Lamont to suffer a thousand deaths and then he wanted to tear his throat out. Was he going mad?
