Pick of the Litter

by Wendy Stone

  Lukah felt his own anger stir, the rage that had taken him last night still needing a worthy outlet. He felt his jaw shift, his teeth lengthen as that rage triggered the change inside of him and fought it. He couldn't change now. Shaking his head, his long black hair sliding silkily over his shoulders, he pushed back the desperate urge. “Cin, if you know what is good for you, you will leave now. Go find the others, tell them I have a guest here, a human guest."

  "Now you make me into a messenger?” she growled, her own teeth lengthening. “I do not do your bidding unless it is my wish to. Do you forget who my father is?"

  "Do you forget who made it possible for you to come here? Do as I say, Lucinda. Else you will force me into actions I do not wish to take.” He narrowed his eyes, a headache pounding behind them from dealing with the spoiled and selfish cat.

  She narrowed her own. “You'll be sorry,” she said softly, before spinning, her hair slapping him in the face as she swung around.

  Lukah watched as she strode away, anger in every twitch of her hips. Sighing heavily he turned toward his bedroom once more.

  * * * *

  When she woke, Marissa was alone. She stretched, wincing as the pain in her legs and her sex made her remember what had happened the night before. She sighed, a frown causing her brow to furl.

  Her eyes closed and she could see his face again, ugly, snarling, contorted by lust as he moved above her, fucking her with angry hurtful thrusts.

  "No!” she whispered forcefully, opening her eyes and concentrating on one of the beautiful pieces of art on the rose-colored walls. “I won't let them do this to me. I won't!” she ground out between clenched teeth. “I'm stronger than that."

  She forced herself up, walking stiffly toward the window and pulling back the heavy floral draperies. “Oh!"

  Her room faced the back of the lush estate, rolling hills and wooded lands spreading as far as she could see. A small lake lay close to the edge of the woods, geese floating upon its glass-like surface. It was an idyllic scene. She could even see a small field full of daisies, butterflies and bees flitting over the blooms.

  From the edge of the woods a single large black cat came loping out, his ground-eating pace bringing him ever closer to the house. A shaft of sunlight fell upon his satiny black hide, causing the gold around his throat to gleam. It was the same cat that had brought her to this room, the one that had saved her from the smaller panther.

  He moved with the grace of his species, his huge paws easily covering the ground until he disappeared below her, coming into the house. Marissa turned, moving away from the window, going to the hallway door and slowly opening it.

  The hall was empty. She couldn't hear a sound, nothing that would tell her if anyone was near. She stepped into the hall, her feet sinking into the thick carpet. Trailing her fingers over the chair rail, she moved toward the stairs, her stomach growling. She was almost to the bottom when Lukah stepped out from the kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist, his chest glistening with drops of water. His hair lay down his back in thick wet waves of inky black, slicked back from his strong face.

  "Oh!” she squeaked, her hand going to her chest. “You scared me.” She tried to smile up at him, but her eyes kept drifting down.

  "It wasn't my intention to scare you, Marissa. I'm sorry,” he said. He dipped his head, but she still saw the smile he tried to hide.

  "Yeah, that's why you're smiling,” she kidded, smiling herself. “I saw one of your pets coming out of the woods."

  "Really?” he said, dropping his eyes.

  "Yes, I think it was the big male that saved me. It's so strange, though. I thought he'd have come inside, instead I find you. And your necklace...” she let her voice die off, hand rising to touch the golden torc that surrounded his throat. Her eyes narrowed and she ran her hand over the designs intricately woven in the golden threads. “It's identical."

  "I liked his so much, I had one made for myself,” Lukah said quickly, looking down at her hand where it rested against his skin.

  "It's beautiful, so wild and magical looking,” she murmured before turning her eyes up to him and dropping her hand. His skin had been hot, damp from his shower, so masculine and alive against her palm. “Uh, I was thinking that I-I should call a cab and get home."

  "You wish to leave?” he asked, surprise coloring his voice.

  "Well, I can't stay forever,” she said, cursing her fair skin that blushed so easily. “You've been a wonderful host, Lukah, not to mention the fact that you saved me from a fate worse than death last night. But it's time I went home."

  "Yes, I understand,” he said, bowing his head and taking a step back from her. “You have your own life to get back to. I never asked if there was anyone—boyfriend or ... or even a girlfriend that you might wish to get home to."

  "No, no Lukah,” she said quickly, holding out her hand to him. “There is no one, it's just ... well you've done so much and I can never repay you..."

  "Yes, you can."

  Surprise showed on her face. “I can?"

  "Yes,” he said, taking her hand and holding it in his own. “Go to dinner with me."

  "Dinner? That doesn't seem like a way to repay someone for saving their life."

  "It is what I want.” He stubbornly kept her hand in his, lifting her chin with his other hand. “One dinner date and the slate is wiped clean."

  Her hand felt so tiny against his, his skin so warm around her. Warm and safe, she thought, knowing that she was when she was with him. She wanted to spend more time with him, she wanted to learn more about her mysterious savior. So why was she arguing with him? “Okay."

  "Yes?” he asked, a smile hovering about his lips.

  "Yes,” she agreed, blushing more when he raised her hand to his lips, brushing a soft kiss against her knuckles before turning her hand over to rest his cheek in her palm.

  "You have made me very happy, Marissa."

  "Lukah!"

  The couple jerked apart, Marissa pulling her hand away from Lukah's face as the stranger moved into the room. He was an older man, strongly built,who looked a bit like Lukah, though his hair was cut short and he was nowhere close to being as tall. What he didn't have in height, though, he more than made up for in presence. He seemed larger than life, standing and staring at them, disapproval written upon his swarthy features.

  "Excuse me for a moment, Marissa."

  She nodded, watching as he moved away from her with the same feline grace she'd noted in the huge panther. His bare feet made little sound as he walked toward the older man. His legs were long, parting the sides of the towel he wore around his lean hips. She could barely take her eyes from the picture of masculine perfection he created.

  The two men began to speak and, again, Marissa was left surprised. Their words sounded Greek, but she couldn't be sure. She was no expert on languages. It was a heated exchange, ending with Lukah growling low in his throat and speaking softly to the man. The man bowed his head, though his anger was still apparent and the look he gave Marissa was one that was full of contempt.

  "Is something wrong?” she asked Lukah when he came back to her side.

  "No. My Uncle just isn't happy that I brought you here. This is my home, Marissa. I wish you to be here and that should be good enough for him. But he was brought up with the old ways and can't adjust to life here in America. I should send him home, he'd be happier there, but he is the only one who can control Lucinda without wanting to kill her.” He trailed off, shaking himself. “I'm sorry. I was spouting my problems aloud. Now, allow me time to dress and I shall drive you home."

  "I need to get my purse,” she said.

  "I'll bring it down,” he offered, brushing a kiss against the softness of her cheek and starting up the stairs. “Make yourself at home, Marissa. I'll be right back."

  He was as good as his word, dressing and hurrying back down the stairs in ten minutes, her purse in his big hands. “Here,” he said, holding it out to her.

  "Thank yo
u,” she said, feeling suddenly shy. Then she yelped as he scooped her in his arms, hurriedly wrapping hers around his neck as he strode into the kitchen. “What are you doing?"

  "You have no shoes."

  "Oh.” She laughed, she couldn't help it. “Next time, warn me before you do the scoop and go."

  He hugged her close, chuckling himself. “I didn't mean to scare you, Marissa. I just thought to keep your feet clean in the garage."

  Marissa stared down at the spotless floor covered in tile that could grace any kitchen or bathroom. It sparkled in the dim light coming through the windows. “Uh, sure, I can see how you could think that,” she said sarcastically, making him laugh.

  He took her in the same car he brought her to his house in the night before, carefully setting her down on the soft seat before sliding in the other side and hitting the button for the garage. “Where are we heading?” he asked.

  Marissa looked over at him, so at ease behind the wheel of the beautiful black car. He was dressed again in black, jeans, short sleeved tee-shirt, and the same boots as the previous night. He'd pulled his hair back so that the sides were held with a gold clip. He was gorgeous, brain-numbingly gorgeous.

  "Marissa?"

  "Oh, uh sorry.” She gave him her address, watching the ease with which he handled the sports car and the manual transmission. They backed out of the garage and into the driveway, turning so that they were heading down the drive.

  Lukah suddenly stepped on the brake, throwing her against her seatbelt. “What?"

  "Lucinda,” he said angrily, staring out of the windshield at the woman who stood in front of the car.

  Tall, with cascading black hair and eyes that was nearly gold, she had an exotic beauty that was captivating, though the scowl on her face ruined it somewhat. A stunning figure was encased in leather that hugged every amazing curve, from her firm, high breasts to the luscious sway of her hips, down to the slender thighs and slim calves. She exuded sensuality in steamy waves of heat that even Marissa could feel.

  "This is Lucinda?"

  "Yes,” he said, narrowing his eyes at the irate vixen. “She is up to something."

  Marissa glanced down at the wrinkled sweats she wore, then self-consciously ran her hands over her tangled red curls. She could feel the angry bruise on her cheek and wished for her makeup bag and toothpaste. But even if she was at her best, there was no way she could compete with the pure sexual heat that Lucinda gave off. It was depressing.

  Lukah hit the horn, hearing Lucinda's laughter at his impatience. She blew him a kiss, slinking from out in front of his car in her own sweet time until he could finally pull around her. “She needs to be taken in hand. She grows more wild than even her father can handle."

  "Taken in hand?” Marissa asked, not sure she liked how that sounded.

  "Lucinda has been promised already, but she has made it clear she is not happy with the match. Her father would lose face in our clan if he doesn't force her to submit to the coupling. I don't agree with the old ways, Marissa. But it is what we have known and one reason that I left my homeland and came here. I wanted the freedom to find my own life and my own mate. Not one someone else picked out for me."

  "Arranged marriages? Didn't those go out of style about the same time as crinolines?"

  "Maybe here, in this land where you have so many freedoms. But where I grew up, we live by the old ways. Parents find and make the match. You are happy with what they find for you because it is in your best interest. I have seen three of my lit ... brothers and sisters sent off with mates that they barely knew. I would rather remain single than live a life arranged for me.” He spoke with passion, even as he drove with care through the busy Sunday afternoon traffic.

  "I hope you don't mind me asking, but where did you grow up?"

  He smiled, taking his hand off the gear shift and picking up the hand that lay in her lap. Bringing it to his lips, he nuzzled her palm for a moment. “Of course I don't mind you asking. I want you to know me, Marissa. I feel ... something here for you.” He placed her hand against his heart.

  Marissa thought her heart would beat out of her chest, it knocked so loudly. Her eyes traveled over his face as he spoke. “But..."

  "We've known each other less than twenty-four hours, and most of that has been spent ... well we both know how it has been spent."

  "Yes,” she said. “But..."

  "But I couldn't possibly feel anything for you. I know. I've been trying to tell myself that all morning.” He gave her a wry smile. “I don't listen to myself very well."

  "You don't listen to me very well either,” she said, giving him a narrow-eyed glare.

  Lukah chuckled. “I'm sorry, Marissa, it's just that I don't think I want to hear what you might want to say."

  "If you'd shut up for a moment, maybe I could get it out.” She laughed as he closed his mouth, miming locking it and throwing the key to her. “Okay, that's better. Now where to start..."

  "You coul..."

  "Hush,” she interrupted, grinning as he tried to look ashamed and failed miserably.

  "I-I don't know for sure how I feel, Lukah. You saved me from those men, whisked me away to a fairytale kind of house, cared for me, protected me and now you're charming me. I like being with you. I could never be like Lucinda. She's ... gorgeous,” Marissa sighed.

  "You're gorgeous,” he said quickly, before once more closing his mouth.

  "I'm not looking for compliments,” she said, squeezing his hand. “But thank you.” She looked out the window as he pulled up in front of her apartment building, a huge tower that rose some fifty floors above street level, wide terraced balconies giving the building a zippered look. “Maybe we could discuss this more over dinner?"

  "Tonight?” he asked eagerly, turning to face her as he turned off the engine.

  Marissa grimaced at the thought of dressing up and wearing heels with the pain she was already in. “It's Sunday, I have to work tomorrow."

  "You want to wait until Friday?” he asked, his face falling in disappointment.

  Marissa couldn't prevent the smile that touched her lips. “Would you mind?"

  "Very much so,” he said vehemently, “but I will do so for you.” He opened his door, hurrying around the car to open hers and help her out. When he stooped to lift her in his arms, she stopped him, looking around the parking lot to see if anyone had noticed. “Its okay, Lukah. I can walk.” She pulled her keys out of her purse, thankful that she hadn't lost either during the attack. “I'll see you Friday?"

  "Yes,” he said softly, bending to plant a soft kiss to her cheek. “I'll see you Friday, Marissa."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Three

  "Where were you Saturday? I waited for like an hour before going inside."

  Terry Taylor shoved her hands in the front pockets of her pants, rocking on her short heels as she waited for Marissa to answer. The two women shared the huge round desk in the reception area that made up the lobby of the Tinzle Building, a very ritzy place that was home to everything from the most exclusive spa in the city to the high-priced suite of lawyers that held the prestigious offices on the top floor.

  Marissa shoved her purse and lunch into one of the drawers before turning toward her friend. “I went to the bar,” she said, a catch in her voice. She was finding it more difficult than she thought to tell Terry. “I had the address you wrote down and I went."

  "You couldn't have,” Terry said, rolling her eyes. “I'd have seen you there."

  "Terry, I went to the bar at 1516 W. Main. You weren't there."

  "Of course I wasn't.” Terry frowned. “The bar is East Main, not West. You must have misread the directions."

  Marissa pulled out the piece of paper that Terry had written the address on, setting it gently down in front of her. “What does that say?"

  "Oh shit, Mar, I'm sorry. Wow, that's a terrible part of town. You didn't have any problems, did you?” Terry was contrite, reaching out and hugging Maris
sa.

  A tear streamed down her cheek and Marissa impatiently wiped it away. “I was raped,” she whispered.

  "What?! Oh my God, no! Oh, Marissa, I'm so sorry."

  Marissa pulled away. “It could have been worse, if it weren't for Lukah,” she said, reaching for the box of Kleenex. She dabbed at her eyes with one, sniffing.

  "Who's Lukah?"

  "He is the man who rescued me. He took on eight big bikers who had me on the ground. He ... he got me out of there then took me back to his place."

  "You weren't hurt, were you?” Terry asked, pulling Marissa's chair out for her to sit down in.

  Marissa turned her face, showing off the side that she'd been hiding from Terry. Despite a careful makeup job, the flesh around her eye and cheek was swollen and discolored. “I was raped, Ter. It wasn't a picnic."

  "Did you go to the cops?"

  "No,” Marissa said quickly, shifting her eyes uneasily away from Terry. This was the part of the conversation she'd dreaded the most. “Lukah took care of them, I don't think they'll be taking on a helpless woman again."

  "You don't know that, Mar. Someone else could end up hurt because you didn't go to the police."

  "It's too late. It's been two days. I-I don't think I could pick out who they were anyway."

  "What about your hero? What's his name ... Lukah? Did he see anything?” Terry asked.

  "Terry,” Marissa groaned, already regretting telling her friend, “Neither of us wants to go to the cops. I'm sorry if you think that I'm being irresponsible. But that's just the way it is."

  "No, I'm sorry,” Terry said quickly. “You've been through hell and here I am lecturing you.” She patted Marissa on the back, turning at the sound of someone clearing their throat. “Can I help you?” she asked, putting on her best work face.

  "I'm got a delivery for Marissa Spencer."

  Marissa turned, surprised. “I'm Marissa Spencer.” She reached for the clipboard he handed her, signing on the tiny screen. Handing it back, she stood and took the green covered arrangement of flowers.

  "Don't forget this,” the delivery guy said, handing her a small box, about the size of a shoe box.