by Tally Adams
When she stared at him mutinously, a small muscle in his jaw began to tick. "You can either allow yourself to remember, or I can help you," he threatened.
"Go to hell," she snapped.
He looked at the suitcase in her hand and his eyes narrowed. "You're not going anywhere," he said, his voice hard and angry.
She gave a humorless laugh. "No?" she asked, pushing past him to head toward the car.
"No," he said, and he grabbed her arm, bringing her to an abrupt halt.
She dropped her suitcase without fanfare and reached for the gun tucked into her waistband. Paoli's eyes widened in disbelief when she pointed it at him, but he didn't release her. "Let go of me," she said, her voice low and dangerous.
"No," he said simply. "You need to remember. There are things you don't understand."
"I don't care," she said, and she really didn't. No matter what the reasons, she wasn't about to be treated like a pet; too stupid to make its own decisions or even be involved in the conversation. "Let go of me, Paoli, or I will shoot you," she said, pulling back the hammer on the gun for emphasis.
He glanced at the gun and met her eyes levelly. "You won't shoot me," he said with absolute conviction.
As much as she would have loved to prove him wrong in that moment, he was right. She couldn't bring herself to do it, regardless of how many times she'd imagined—no, fantasized—about it. He was a very aggravating man. But, he was also kind and charming. When he wasn't being high-handed and bossy, anyway. Still, the fact he didn't believe her for a second rankled a bit.
"You're awfully sure of that," she scoffed. "I wouldn't be so confident, if I were you."
Their eyes met and held, and electric tension seemed to run between them. "That's how I know you won't shoot," he said, his voice dropping to a hypnotic cadence. "Remember the night we met," he whispered, and she felt something shift in her mind at his command.
She stared at him and heard the words he'd spoken to her five years ago. It has to be your choice. Do you agree to be mine? And her own response echoed, loud and clear. Yes, she'd whispered as unconsciousness claimed her.
The memory was so profound it wiped out most of her anger and she gasped aloud. She stared at him, her eyes rounded in shock. "It was my choice," she breathed.
"Yes," he agreed. "And it's time to stop fighting this." He reached out and stroked her cheek in a soft caress. "I want you more than you could possibly know," he murmured. "And I know you want me, as well."
Lyric opened her mouth to deny it, but the sudden heat in his eyes held her silent, unable to say a single word. It was like being a deer in the headlights. Her pulse ratcheted up and she couldn't remember how to speak.
"You can't lie to me," he said with a smile so sensual, it was a wonder she wasn't a puddle at his feet. "Some things are easy to scent."
Lyric swallowed hard, caught between arousal and humiliation at the idea he could smell her desire. He deftly knocked the gun from her suddenly lax grip and wrapped one strong hand around the back of her neck. He pulled her toward him and his mouth descended to hers; hot and hungry and insistent; demanding her response.
Lyric's resolve was undone at the first touch of his lips. No matter how much she'd tried to fight it, there was just no way to combat what was between them. It had been decided years ago, and just as Paoli had said, she'd been doing nothing more than fighting the inevitable; prolonging the torture for both of them. No longer. With the realization she, herself, had agreed to be bound to him came a certain freedom. She could accept it now; knowing she'd had a choice in the matter, after all.
Paoli enfolded her in his embrace, dragging her against the length of his body. One hand moved from her neck to the back of her head while his other hand slid down to the small of her back, pressing her against him more fully. She leaned into him, feeling the hard ridges of his body against her own.
It was nearly Paoli's undoing. Her small sign of surrender sent his blood pounding and he deepened the kiss, drinking her in as he introduced his expert tongue into the mix. Her response was a little coy, which only served to fuel him even more. He struggled to control himself; to gradually build her desire until it matched his own; until she couldn't think for wanting him. He wasn't taking any chances this time. He'd waited as long as he could.
A low, throaty moan vibrated through his chest and he slid his hand from her back to cup her firm little derriere, using it to pull her hard against the evidence of his throbbing need. Only when she was panting against his mouth did he break the kiss just long enough to sweep her into his arms. "See what you do to me?" he growled, striding into her motel room and kicking the door closed even as he captured her mouth again.
Lyric's hands were twisted in his hair. She clung to him desperately, her whole body hot and burning with desire. She never wanted him to stop kissing her. Nothing else mattered but this moment, this experience with him. She had no idea how long they stood there; her cradled in his arms as he continued to ravish her mouth with his.
His lips left hers and began trailing hot, open kisses down her cheek, her jawline, to her neck. A ripple of unease ran through her, pushing through the haze and she stiffened slightly.
Paoli must have noticed it, because he spoke against her collarbone. "I won't bite. Not tonight," he said, standing her on her feet as his hands pulled the bottom of her shirt up over her head and sent it flying across the room.
She gripped the sculpted muscles of his shoulders as he moved his hot, wet mouth lower; to nuzzle the swell of her breasts exposed above her white, lacy bra. "Just so you know," she gasped when her bra was somehow flying away to join her shirt, leaving her breasts bared to his perusal, "I still hate you."
"I know," he murmured with supreme unconcern, capturing a rosy nipple in his mouth and suckling gently.
Lyric's knees gave way and she moaned aloud in sheer pleasure, her hands inadvertently pulling his hair free from the band he wore. It spilled across his shoulders in a shower of silk that teased her other breast with every movement, sensitizing her skin almost past endurance. His strong arms held her upright while he feasted; his hands cupping the rounded globes of her backside as she continued to hold him to her.
Paoli moved her slowly backward and onto the bed, taking care not to break the delicious contact; not wanting to give her a single second to rethink what was happening. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop at this point, and he had no desire to put it to the test. It was a wonder he hadn't burst into flame with the force of his desire. The feel of her hands in his hair and every keening whimper she made increased his urgency. If he didn't enter her soon, he feared he may embarrass himself.
The mattress gave beneath their weight and Paoli jerked his shirt over his head almost frantically and returned to her, all hard muscle and hot skin. He relished the feel of her flesh against his; her beautiful breasts pressed to his chest. He captured her mouth once more and she kissed him with a kind of desperation, moving her hips forward to press herself against the hardness of him when he settled his weight onto her.
He continued to kiss her, his hands stroking and caressing her body gently, memorizing every inch of her, every area that brought forth another gasp. His hands slipped down covertly to unfasten her jeans so he could slip them and her lacy panties from her hips and drop them to the floor unnoticed. With the speed of his kind, his own were gone, leaving no barrier between them.
Paoli settled back onto her, parting her thick, heavy folds with the throbbing tip of his manhood. He pushed forward slowly, carefully, and entered her fully, burying himself to the hilt in her tight, wet sheath.
Lyric cried out at the delicious friction; the wonderful, throbbing ache that continued to grow with each thrust as he began to move inside her. He was everywhere; inside her, surrounding her, pressing against her so that she seemed to feel him with every cell of her being. His movement became faster and harder, keeping her gasping and climbing closer and closer to sweet release. Her heels dug into the mattress as
she used her legs to lever herself for more contact, her fingers biting into his shoulders.
Lyric cried out as oblivion claimed her, crashing over in waves of pleasure that seemed to go on and on. Her body was locked around his and only his weight kept her from spiraling away while the most wonderful spasms racked her from the inside out, leaving her panting and breathless with the force of release. Paoli gave a guttural moan, his body still and rigid as he pulsed inside her, his head thrown back and eyes closed in ecstasy.
Chapter Twenty Six
They lay in one another's arms for a long time, Paoli's leg thrown carelessly across one of hers. He kissed her temple and ran the pad of his thumb over her slightly swollen lower lip. "I'm sorry I had to push your memory," he said softly. "I was hoping it would happen naturally."
Lyric nodded slowly, realizing what an ass she'd been. "I guess I owe you an apology," she offered.
Paoli looked at her with a gentle smile and brushed his lips over hers. "Do you still agree to be mine?" he asked.
Lyric gave an exaggerated, teasing sigh. "Do I have any choice at this point?"
"None," he said, lightly but honestly.
"What happens now?" she wanted to know.
"It doesn't matter," he said, turning onto his side and pulling her against him. He kissed her neck and nuzzled her shoulder. "We can worry about it later."
Lyric wanted to argue, but wrapped in a cocoon of warm Paoli, she found she didn't have the energy. Instead, she drifted off to sleep, feeling perfectly content with the world.
She woke up to the sound of her phone ringing and felt around on the nightstand for it. Instead of her phone, her fingers touched the hard metal of the gun she'd dropped in the parking lot. It took her a minute for everything to register, and she sat up with a start, looking to the other side of the bed where a single red rose lay on the pillow. Paoli, of course, was gone.
Dragging the sheet from the bed to wrap around herself, she padded to the table where her purse now sat and fumbled around until her hand closed on the phone. Without even looking at it, she hit the button to answer.
"Hello, Lyric," a harsh, female voice said before she even got the chance to say hello.
She didn't recognize the speaker. She held the phone out to look at the unfamiliar number. "Hello?" she said tentatively.
"I bet you all congratulated each other after you wounded Lycaon, but be warned. You're now the primary target for the wolves," the woman said, her voice cold and angry.
"Who is this?" Lyric demanded. "How did you get my number?"
"You're in way over your head, little girl," the woman continued. "And your days are numbered."
"I'm not afraid of you, so save your speech," Lyric lied. She was, in fact, very afraid of Lycaon and the werewolves, but she wasn't about to tell them so.
"We'll fix that soon enough. You've cost us several wolves already, and Lycaon doesn't take well to being attacked. There will be retribution," the caller said coldly.
"It was Lycaon who did the attacking. We merely defended ourselves," Lyric insisted. "If he doesn't want to be hurt, maybe he shouldn't be waging a war."
"Or maybe Emily and the killer she's mated to should stand with our father, as they're supposed to," the woman snapped. A beat of silence passed, then she went on. "Emily and William are necessary. The rest of you are just sport. And you've gone from insignificant to being a dead woman walking. Congratulations."
The phone disconnected and Lyric sank down into a chair, staring blankly at the display.
Her heart was racing. She'd just received a death threat. Someone had actually gone out of their way to call and threaten her life. With a jolt, she pulled back the corner of the curtain and gave a sigh of relief to find the parking lot empty. No hordes of angry werewolves bearing down on her. Yet.
With nervous energy, she sat the phone down and began to pace around the room, thinking. Why would they have called her? It didn't make any sense. If she was really marked as a primary target for the werewolves, wouldn't surprise be the best element? Instead, they'd gone out of their way to put her on her guard.
It seemed more like something a high school girl would do.
Deciding she wasn't about to make sense of things on her own, she headed into the bathroom. A quick shower, a dab of make-up and a blast from the hairdryer, and she was ready to discuss it with Emily. She grabbed her purse because the gas station was just about a mile away and she needed to get a drink before explaining what had happened.
She drove the short distance and was standing there looking through the glass doors where the sodas lived when she got her first prickle of unease. Glancing around, she saw two guys walk past her car, paying a lot more attention to it than was normal. One of them looked through the store window at her and she quickly looked away, determined not to catch his eye.
When his attention returned to the other guy, she ducked between the shelves and watched them closely from between rows of candy. They walked away from her car and got into a green truck that was idling close by. When the truck didn't leave the parking lot, she let out a string of curses under her breath.
"Shit, shit, shit," she said, looking around for an alternate exit. If those guys were werewolves, she'd backed herself into a fine corner. What should she do? Having never had the experience of dealing with dangerous stalkers—unless she counted Paoli—she wasn't sure how to proceed. Her trusty gun was lying right where Paoli had left it; doing her no good on her nightstand, and she couldn't very well hide in the gas station all day. The clerk was already trying to pretend he didn't notice her acting like a lunatic.
Her phone was in her purse, but she didn't have anyone's number because she was an idiot, she decided. Why hadn't she gotten Emily's number, at least? That way, she could have called for help. Then again, she reasoned, this wasn't exactly an everyday event she'd thought to prepare for.
With no way to get help and no other ideas, she stood up straight and nodded politely to the clerk as she strolled through the store toward the bathroom and, more importantly, the back exit. A bar ran across it with red letters proclaiming it an emergency exit. Well, she decided, if ever there was an emergency, this was it. She pushed the door open, expecting an alarm to sound and give the two guys warning, but breathed a thank you for small favors when nothing happened. She stepped quickly into the sunlight and dashed across the back lot to where two industrial-sized garbage dumpsters stood. Hiding between them, she glanced around to make sure there was no sign of her two new friends.
Finding herself still alone, she breathed a sigh of relief and moved away from the dumpsters, toward the small clump of trees that lined the highway exit. If nothing else, maybe she could wait them out. Surely they were bound to get bored eventually and go away once they realized she was no longer in the store.
It was a short sprint to the cover of the trees, but she arrived breathless from the exertion and nerves. Branches scratched as she pushed her way between the line of evergreens, snagging her hair and pulling at her clothes. Even though she knew it was just the vegetation, the feeling of being grabbed sent her pulse skyrocketing and she leapt into the small area with a squeak.
Once she was well hidden and free of groping branches, she leaned forward and put her hands on her knees to catch her breath and listen for the sound of footsteps coming her way, her heart still beating rather harder than normal. There were no sounds outside the rustle of trees and the distant cars on the highway. Cautiously, she peered out across the small clearing and could just make out the back lot of the gas station. Nothing was moving.
Breathing a sigh of relief, she leaned against the trunk of a nearby tree and sank down onto her butt, sitting there with her head on her raised knees, trying to decide what to do next. Her hiding spot may have bought her a little time, but with her luck, the men would use their magical werewolf noses and scent her out like bloodhounds. It wouldn't do for her to sit there and wait for them to track her down, so what options did that leave?
> Chapter Twenty Seven
Paoli? she asked tentatively, holding her breath.
Silence.
Oh, Paoli? she sent in a nervous, sing-song tone.
Still silence.
Fear and irritation were mounting. What did it take to wake up a sleeping vampire? Even if he couldn't come to help her himself, he could certainly communicate her needs to Emily or William and they could get her out of this mess.
Damn it, wake up, you undead pain in the ass! she screamed in her head, but only once she was fairly certain he wouldn't hear her.
When she still got no response, she groaned and glanced at her phone, wondering how long it would be before the sun set and she'd be able to get help. It was only four, which meant she still had a good three hours before then; plenty of time for the wolves to find and eat her.
Sitting in a secluded area suddenly seemed less wise. Maybe she was better off in the gas station with witnesses. Nervously, she crawled over far enough to look out across the clearing again, just making sure they weren't about to surprise her. Still empty. She sat back, trying to think of a plan.
If her stalkers were planning to attack her, she needed to get back to the motel for help. But, if they were planning to follow her to their hiding place and attack Paoli and Sekhmet in their sleep, she didn't want to lead them right to them. Then again, the blood bus wasn't exactly inconspicuous. If they searched the surrounding area and discovered it on their own, the pack would have no warning. For all she knew, they could be looking right now. Or what if they'd already found the bus and were closing in on it? Paoli was defenseless during daylight hours.
With a new feeling of panic, she shot to her feet. As irritating as Paoli could be, she wasn't about to sit back and let anyone but her kill him. Running through the trees on the opposite side from the gas station, she headed toward the highway, determined to get back to the motel on foot.
