by Jaycee Clark
Sadness and sweetness collided. The closet, likewise, was half empty. As if he’d just been waiting. For her.
“Don’t let Dena get to you,” Darrell said, dropping her other bag on the bed.
She chose not to answer. The other woman was cute and honestly looked more Lo’s type. She looked like she could handle her own in any situation. Probably knew how to shoot a gun and took all sorts of martial arts or something.
Reya unzipped her bag and realized she’d brought enough for tonight, and possibly another night.
He’d kept half of the furniture and storage in his room empty.
As if waiting.
For her.
Her stomach tightened and nerves jumped. If she were honest, something loosened around her heart. Why?
Because she was hoping for more than one night?
Even knowing the pain that would follow. Well, she already knew she was an idiot where Lorenzo was concerned.
At least she hadn’t brought enough to use any of the empty spaces. Why announce it to all and sundry that she was easy?
She glanced towards the empty doorway and Dena beyond, then back to the half-empty closet. Maybe she should have brought her entire wardrobe and laid claim to her half of the closet, or at least her part of the empty dresser. Well, she could put the few clothes she did bring in one of the empty drawers.
She wasn’t easy. She just didn’t want Dena to think she had any place here.
“She doesn’t.” His deep voice rumbled from the doorway.
He stood there, leaning against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets, his jeans starched as always, his button-down shirt not even wrinkled after he wore it all day.
“Lo.” She shoved the drawer shut. “I figured if you’re going to be all macho, I’d just bring some clothes with me so I wouldn’t have to run home in the morning before work.” She looked back to him and noticed Darrell was gone. “Where’s Darrell?”
He stepped into the room and shut the door. “I sent him to check things out, find out where some of the others are and to bring them all here later.”
“Oh.” She walked to the bed. “For what?”
“A meeting.” He walked to her, wrapped his hands around her from behind and pulled her against him.
“For?”
He kissed the side of her neck. “Later.”
“Now.”
He whirled her around. “Okay, since you asked so nicely.”
His hands cupped her breasts, caressing them through the soft leather of her vest.
“That’s not what I was talking about.”
He grinned down at her, slid his hands up under the back of her vest and unhooked her bra. The release of the elastic made her sigh. Lo’s hands glided up her bare arms, his fingers grazing on the tops of her shoulders until he pulled the straps of her bra off her arms. Grinning, he jerked the lacy material out from under the front of her vest.
She reached up to unbutton it.
“No, leave it for a minute.” He cupped her breasts again.
“Why?”
He gently rubbed the soft leather against her, flicking his thumbs over her nipples. Desire twisted from her breasts to tighten her gut. She sighed.
“Don’t you miss the feel of leather against bare skin?” he whispered hot in her ear.
“Sometimes,” she whispered back.
He licked her ear, his tongue causing goose bumps to spring along her arms, dance down her spine to tickle the base of her back. “I hate when you do that,” she softly said, closing her eyes.
“No you don’t.” His hands continued to play the leather against her skin until she was warm, her blood humming, her breasts and nipples so sensitive that the slightest shift of material had her gasping.
Lo pulled back and unbuttoned her jeans. “I want these off of you. Now.”
He stepped away and walked to the dresser. He grabbed a remote and clicked a button. Sultry Spanish guitar music heated on the air. He sat in the chair by the fireplace.
“Take your clothes off for me.”
She stood there, panting. “What?”
“Take. Them. Off.”
“But…”
“Now.”
His rough voice aroused her. How had she forgotten this? That he could make her want by simply speaking. How he liked to be in control, and yet he’d hand the reins to her if she asked.
Surprisingly, she wasn’t in the mood to ask. She was always in control. So in control for so long. In this…she trusted him completely.
On the next song, she began to peel her jeans down her legs. Part of her should have felt stupid. It had been so long since she’d been with Lorenzo, but she didn’t. One glance at the smoldering look in his eyes, the tightened features of his face, the fact he was lounged back in the chair just waiting…
Reya had missed the quickening of her blood, the way her whole body tightened in wanting a single touch from him.
She kicked her jeans to the side and swayed to the music.
“The rest.”
Her eyes locked with his as she slowly rolled her panties down her legs and tossed them to him. He picked them up from his lap and held them. “You’re wet.”
She smiled.
“The vest.”
Reya rubbed the material against her torso as she swayed and danced for him.
“God, I’ve missed you,” he said, his voice harsh. “Come here.”
Reya shook her head and slowly unbuttoned her vest until it hung open.
“Come here.”
She smiled and slowly pulled one arm free, then the other. “In a minute.”
Naked, she swayed and danced to the music that pulsed in the air as humid as the desire and passion.
She heard the rustle of his clothing and opened her eyes in time to see him standing in front of her. “I said come here.”
“You came to me.”
His mouth crashed down on hers, fighting for control. His fully clothed body rubbed against her naked one. His shirt grazed her sensitive nipples and she gasped.
He walked her back until they fell on the bed, her head barely missing her bag. He muttered something and shoved it aside. His hands were everywhere, branding her, claiming her, marking her.
Reya closed her eyes, the feelings too much to control. She had missed him unbearably through the years. How in the hell had she ever thought she was over him? How?
“You will never be over me. Never,” he swore, rising up on his elbows, the features of his face pulled tight.
His eyes dared her to contradict him. She brushed her hand over his jaw and felt the shimmer of his other self just beneath.
“Our souls long to merge. It’s been too long. We’ve starved them, Reya.”
She closed her eyes as he kissed her again, the denim of his jeans rough against her inner thighs, his shirt almost coarse against her torso and breasts. His hands were everywhere, cradling her face, then skimming the tops of her breasts. He pinched each nipple before kissing it gently.
Reya growled and arched. The air shimmered around them. His fingers traced circles on her breasts even as he pulled them deep and suckled.
Reya reached between them and tried to unbutton his shirt. He pulled up. “No.”
“But I want—”
“My way.”
Next time, she would—
His smile was tender. “Next time you can do whatever you want. I’ve wanted this for too damn long.”
His mouth met hers again, his tongue licking the seam until she opened beneath him. He groaned low in his throat and dove deep. His fingers trailed over her stomach, grazed lower until he finally touched her.
She felt the air shimmer harder with her inner beast. Opening her eyes, she smiled, realizing the air was turning green.
She remembered this from before. Before with Lorenzo when the spirits knew it was special…the air changed, charged and became part of them.
His fingers played over her center in long slow strokes that had her
shuddering. Finally, his fingers pierced her and she cried out.
His breath was hot on her neck as he worked his fingers deep, and deeper, faster and slower.
“Lorenzoooo,” she moaned.
He chuckled against her belly, his tongue wet as he twirled around her navel. He blazed a trail to the juncture of her thighs and she stopped breathing all together. Then he blew a stream of air against her heat.
She closed her eyes and gave herself up to him.
“Finally,” he growled. “You are mine, Reya. I’ve always been yours. Always. Forever. No one can do this to you but me.”
His mouth kissed her, even as his fingers worked within her. He built the fire up within her. Higher and higher. His wicked tongue darted, licked, laved until she was twisting. Building up to…
“No.” He stopped and quickly stood.
Her entire body pulsed, her breaths panting out. “What?”
He stood on one foot and pulled off a boot, then the other, tossed his socks aside, quickly shucked his jeans and boxers, and all but ripped his shirt off.
She couldn’t help it—she laughed.
Lorenzo looked at the woman sprawled out on his bed, smiling, her eyes filled with the love that had always been between them.
He walked to the foot of the bed, crawled up the bed, crawled up her body until he was right back where he’d started. His length lay atop hers, her breasts soft and pliant beneath his chest, the heat from her core all but scorching his groin.
He kissed her softly, slowly, urging her to join him. Pulling back, he kneeled between her open thighs. Lo looked down at her pink female flesh and felt lust lightning through his veins. He ran one finger from her pubic bone down until he slipped into the wet center of her. He watched as he loved her with his fingers, watched her face as her eyes slid closed. When she was riding his hand, he slowed, moved closer and positioned himself at her entrance, groaning as her wet heat touched the tip of his erection.
“Reya.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him.
He entered her in one hard thrust.
She screamed.
He grabbed the sides of her face. “If you ever again leave me, I will hunt you down and chain you to my side. You are mine. I am yours. You rule beside me from here on.” He thrust deep and deeper still, felt the air shimmer with the last of his control. “Say it.”
“You’re mine, Lorenzo. You always have been. Yes.” She rocked against him.
He paused, staring down at her. “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it, Merria.”
Panting, her eyes flashed at him. “Want me to take it back?”
He thrust into her in one long, deep glide pulling a growl from him. “Don’t even try it.”
She fisted her hands in his hair. “If I ever find you in bed with another woman I will do more than walk away and not speak to you for two hundred years.”
He grinned and lost himself in the feel of her. They moved in the dance that was older than they were. Their breaths mingled and the air crackled. He purred, heard the rumble fill the room. He could feel them, their other halves joining as well, their bodies loving and becoming one as their magic and their souls merged.
Their cats growled, and Lorenzo thrust again, taking her up with him. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him ride her as he wished, meeting him with her own passion. A roar ripped from deep within him as he felt them both going over the peak, shifting together as they were completely joined.
Reya shattered in his arms, her muscles squeezing him until he couldn’t see, her own roar echoing in the room.
Lorenzo thrust deep and shared his soul with her and wished more than anything he could again give her a child. One day, one day he would give it all back to her.
Chapter Eight
The phone jarred them awake.
Lorenzo fumbled and realized it was his cell. Finding his pants, he pulled the small technological blessing/curse free and answered. “Craigen.”
Reya shifted and pulled the quilt up to cover her breasts. Her black hair cascaded over the pillows. He wanted back in bed with her.
“What?” he asked the other person on the phone.
“There’s been another murder over at that gallery you been going to. Chief wants you there, ASAP.”
The pleasantness of what had finally happened slid away into the black meaning of Janice’s words.
“Thanks, Janice. I’ll be there in about ten minutes.” He flipped the phone shut and quickly dressed. Three deaths in less than three days. Good God.
Reya sat up. “What? What is it?”
“Nothing,” he automatically said. What if she’d been at the damn shop instead of in his bed?
“Don’t lie to me. It’s something. Is it another murder? What? Tell me.” She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him around.
Truth or lie. “Yes, another murder, and I’m supposed to get there now.”
He buttoned his pants and pulled on his boots and shirt.
She quickly stood. “Let me get you something to drink to take with you or—”
Lorenzo leaned down and kissed her. “Go back to sleep and whatever you do,” he said, pulling back, grasping her shoulders, “do not leave the house. You understand?”
“You’ve had it blessed?”
“Hell, I’ve had it everything.” He quickly buttoned his shirt, grabbed his badge and gun off the dresser and looked back at her again. Leaning in one last time he said, “Promise me, Reya. We both know this has to do with you. I need to know you’re safe.”
She sat back on the bed, wrapped in his quilt. “Yes, yes. I’ll stay here. I won’t leave.”
“Good.” He gave her one last kiss and walked to the door. Dena sat in the kitchen.
“Have fun, Tomcat?”
He rarely used his rank as their leader to intimidate, but he let the power turn his voice to a growl. “Knock it off. You’re ordered to guard her with your life and if you fail me, so help you, there is nothing that will save you from my wrath.”
Her face paled and she nodded. “Yes, sir.”
He hurried out of the house, thunder rumbling off the mountain, wishing he didn’t have to leave. As he sped to town, his hazards flashing, he wished this was all behind them, but knew it was a futile wish.
The Chosen waited in the barn as the truck drove away. In such a hurry he didn’t even notice the lack of sound near his home. The storm was picking up.
It was time for payback. By the time he returned, all would be over and he would have no one to blame but himself.
The Chosen looked at the werewolves, the werecoyotes, and said, “Watch them.”
Their captives sat tied and bleeding, two of them dead, on the floor of the barn. Seems the pride’s leader had been otherwise occupied when his followers needed him.
And it had been a merge. The Chosen had only seen one other and that had been at least eight hundred years ago and between two werewolves in Europe. The Were people could sleep with humans, being part human themselves. They could find mates like them, but few found the perfect mate, their soul mate and fewer merged with that perfect mate.
Those two had merged. All the more reason for them to die. They could actually build a dynasty.
That would just never, never do.
“Let’s play,” The Chosen said and made its way out of the barn and towards the house.
Lightning jumped off the Taos peak and ripped the thunder down the valley. The Chosen smiled. The full scope of vengeance was so close the taste was like nectar from the gods.
Reya dressed in her jeans and pulled on a sweatshirt and some tennis shoes she dug out of her bag. The tiles, she’d learned the day before, were cold beneath her feet and she’d always enjoyed warm weather herself. It wouldn’t be long and the cold winds of winter would be arriving.
Dena sat quietly at the kitchen counter eating a sandwich.
Damn. Reya had forgotten all about the woman.
Animosity could be tiring and
she was feeling too good to feel petty. “Hi.”
Dena looked up and Reya could have sworn she read fear in the other woman’s eyes. “Hi. I’m…uh…sorry about earlier and all.”
Reya laughed. “Did he do the voice thing to get you to say that? Really, don’t take it personally. Lorenzo just has a problem with sharing.” Reya jerked open the refrigerator door
“And one thing he’ll never share is you.”
Reya shrugged. “Oh he shared me before now, but I think I just promised that he never would again.” She frowned.
The other woman asked, “What, did he do the voice thing with you too?”
Reya laughed. “Honey, he did everything with me.” Realizing she might be rubbing noses, she asked, “Were y’all involved?”
Dena shook her head. “Nope. He only had a thing for one woman and that was you.”
Reya pulled a bottle of water out and kicked the door shut, twisting the lid off. “I am sorry. If anyone had asked me yesterday morning if I cared he was with you, I would have told them no.”
She took a drink of water.
Dena narrowed her gaze. “Then you would have been lying.”
Reya shrugged. “True. But I could have convinced myself of it.”
“You look like the woman in his painting.”
Thunder rumbled outside down the mountain, slamming into the side of the house.
She paused then took another drink of water. “Do I?”
Dena nodded. “Yeah and in most of his other paintings as well.”
“What other paintings?” Reya asked.
The look on Dena’s face clearly said she wished she hadn’t said anything. “Ummm…”
“What other paintings?”
“Just forget I said anything.”
“Nope, nuh-huh. What other paintings?” Reya asked, snatching a chip from Dena’s plate.
“I—” A knock at the door interrupted them.
Reya started for the door, but Dena shoved her aside. “I was told to guard you, and regardless of whether or not I like you, I will.”
“Oh good grief.”
Dena opened the door and Reya looked out onto the portico to see Mica standing there crying.
“Reya?” she burst into tears.
Dena turned with a raise of brow. “You know her?”
