by Zoe Forward
No. She wasn’t a woman to be owned. She didn’t do that. But she groaned when he sank his teeth into her, although he didn’t break the skin.
His mouth left her shoulder. A hand traced down her spine, pausing at her circumferential scar. Questions didn’t come, although she might’ve answered. Perhaps he understood her desire for her scar not to be a part of what was between them. Maybe he recognized that, like his enslavement tattoo, it was something she’d rather not relive. His fingers followed the path of her spine downward then pulled her ass into the air, vulnerable to him.
“I like the feel of you coming,” he said.
“Then make it happen again.” She glanced over her shoulder, catching the determined narrowing of his eyes and the slow smile. Expectations he’d take her hard in a way inherent to his feral nature had her panting.
But he didn’t.
She fidgeted in anticipation.
He entered her so slow. So deep. And then he moved with unhurried, deliberate movements as if…
“Oh my God,” she hissed out when he hit a spot that made her entire brain almost black out.
“That’s it.” Instead of initiating the fierce movements she expected and craved, he did a sensuous rotation along that bundle of nerves. Over and over.
Her body shuddered. He caught her around the waist when she felt herself go boneless.
Air wouldn’t move in or out of her chest as sensation buoyed her up and up. Everything wound itself so tight that she didn’t think she’d survive.
She gasped, “I can’t…”
“Just hold on. I’ll get you there.” Then he started moving in and out, deep strokes that were steady and on target, hitting that magical spot. Every. Fucking. Time.
A scream worked itself upward from deep inside.
“Let it go. All of it,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. For once, let someone else catch you.”
Everything blew apart. She barely realized he continued to move for another few strokes before his body tensed. She felt him spilling warmth inside her.
When they both collapsed, he cradled her against him. She nuzzled his neck, lingering over his jugular. The cloth remained between her mouth and his skin. In this moment, she thought the death from ingesting his blood would be the best of ends.
She’d lived a long life.
She’d promised not to bite.
“Thank you,” she managed. Words beyond that…any sort of verbal exchange was impossible. She passed out.
…
Michael removed her improvised mask and held her in the dark as she slept, feeling alive in a way he’d thought unattainable. He didn’t want to give her up.
A vampire. How the hell could he want to keep a vampire? The freak-out hit again. He’d lost control, perhaps lost himself, to her, a member of the enemy species.
This is not a crisis.
She wasn’t his enemy. She was an epiphany. Age taught him there were few definitive lines in the sand—although he’d been pretty certain about the division between species right up until a few days ago. Most things were blurred and imperfect. Occasionally, life kicked him in the ass to remind him of this fact. Now he could add species differences to his list of things that he no longer had clear lines against.
He’d finally found a person stronger and braver than anyone he knew. He’d found a lover with whom he wanted to share more than just his secrets. He slid her small hand into his. Her fingers reflexively clasped.
So beautiful.
Love? Perhaps. Not that he’d know. Not that he could entertain the notion with her. His life permitted neither love nor vampires.
He whispered under his breath. “You’re perfect. But we won’t do this again. You won’t die because of my blood.”
She had made it work, though. Maybe…
No, everything about this was impossible. Him a werewolf. Her a vampire.
Whenever he hit a barricade against the impossible, he backed off to search for workable options. Nothing presented itself other than the two of them disappearing from the world to a place where there were no responsibilities and expectations. Doable, not that he suspected she’d give up her work. Even if she did, she wouldn’t keep a mask on forever. He wouldn’t want it, either.
Tonight was a beginning and an end. He’d remain awake for every moment so he could commit everything to memory. When she walked out the door, it was over.
She saved Grace. For that, he’d always be in her debt. Asking her to help him care for her tempted him, but the thought of the complexity…no. A vampire caring for his daughter? Couldn’t happen.
Suffocation clawed up through his chest to his throat at the thought of being alone with Grace. Of having the responsibility of her. He never shirked responsibility, but a baby?
As the moon trekked across the sky, he watched Kiera breathe the steady in and out of rest. Although tempted to wake her for a repeat, he knew this was about far more than sex. This was the ultimate trust—her in his arms. Asleep. When the hour became early morning, he gently shook her.
“Time to wake up,” he whispered.
Her eyelashes fluttered. She frowned and grabbed his wrist to look at his watch. “You should’ve woken me earlier. I so rarely sleep, especially at night. I’ve got to go before the other wolves in the household stir.”
“I know.” He smoothed hair away from her forehead, dreading the moment she’d walk out the door.
“That was amazing.” She smiled, but sadness rested in her eyes. Her long, naked legs shifted between his, her thigh rubbing his balls.
He stifled a groan as desire, rich and powerful, punched his gut.
Her pupils dilated. Her fingers teased through his chest hair. “I want to do this again. So much. But me not biting was hard. Really hard. I don’t know if I can—”
“There won’t be another time.”
Her fingers played with his hair.
Growing serious, he said, “We have a few minutes. Would you tell me about this?” He ran his finger over the scar on her midsection. Barely above a whisper, he added, “He told me to ask you.”
…
Her gut twisted. A lump formed in her throat. “That story involves several players. Like Ehlena. Blay took you with him to speak with her, did he?”
“Yes.” No apology in his gaze. “Blay knows about the scar, doesn’t he? Has to. Because he knew to go to Ehlena.”
She nibbled on her lip. “He shouldn’t have taken you. She’s a master manipulator who’s always four steps ahead. Now she knows you’re important to me, something she might use at some point in the future.”
He pulled her against his chest and stroked her hair. “I don’t give a fuck about Ehlena. I want to know about you.”
She rubbed the back of her neck, contemplating how much she should open up to him. “I’ve never told anyone about this. If Isaac thinks I should…because some of this is his story…” She searched Michael using both facial features and her empath ability, finding only concern, which made her fully trust him. “In exchange, you have to tell me the truth about the baby I rescued.”
He tensed up. “Fair enough.”
She released a long breath. Didn’t help muster courage. This episode in her life she longed to forget and rarely allowed herself to remember. “The male to whom I was mated, Armand, became obsessed with power. Magical power. Where most vamps distrust anything to do with magic, he collected artifacts and people to help him acquire more power. One of those beings was Isaac. He’s the only druid I’ve ever met. He was the oldest druid Armand could find. Well, he was probably the only one he could find. Capturing him involved tricking him. Isaac remained imprisoned without food for months before I found him.” Her voice cracked. “He was in rough shape.”
“Your husband was a sorcerer?”
“Don’t call him that,” she snapped. “Hus
band implies a level of warmth between us. Armand and I were arranged. My father and I were fooled by his charming nature when we first met. Maybe my father wasn’t fooled. He valued power, even if he was reasonable and might have listened had I rejected Armand. I was young and stupid.”
“So, Isaac?”
“It took me weeks to free Isaac from his cell. I’d sneak in to see him during the daytime. He’d teach me bits of magic every day until I knew enough to get him out. The moment I freed him, Armand came out of nowhere and attacked. He sliced me in half.”
“A death blow.”
“Yes, but Isaac threw him away from me, which knocked him out. The druid put me back together with magic.”
“You said you killed Armand. How? I can’t see you fighting a full-strength, magic-enhanced vampire after being sawed in half.”
Her lips compressed. “I’ve never breathed this truth to a soul. Ehlena was there. I don’t know why. I don’t really know where she came from. We hadn’t spoken in ages, but she showed up. She went a little nuts and tore Armand apart.”
“Why does everyone think you murdered him?”
“The public truth will remain that it was me. Ehlena, who many think is dead, was revered. If all thought she murdered her daughter’s mate, even if Armand was a notorious asshole, it would be a smear on my father’s judgment. Ehlena was always careful never to disrespect my father, even his memory. He died during the Emancipation War.”
He cradled her jaw in one of his large hands. “Grace is my daughter, at least I think so.”
Who’s the mother? Her throat felt dry as she forced another swallow.
“I didn’t know her mother well. Actually, not at all.” He threw an arm across his face. “This is humiliating. Sometimes when I take drugs to force sleep, they don’t work. I’m drugged out of my mind and make shit choices like fucking that wolf. Grace’s mom needed money for her drug habit. She robbed me blind and left. Last week, she showed up to tell me we have a child. Who knows if Grace is actually mine, but…what the hell am I supposed to do with a baby?” Insecurity skirted through his gaze. “I’m not father material.”
“Says who?” She ran her hand along the roughness of his cheek. “You braved Paris and fought Squad vamps for her. That’s a pretty kick-ass fatherly move.”
“I don’t know how to deal with kids. That involves hugging and diapers and shit I’m too old to learn.”
“All you have to do is believe in her and show up. You have people around you who will help with the day-to-day stuff, if you let them.”
He curled some of her hair around one of his fingers. “Don’t go to the gala at the DiFalco residence tomorrow.”
She traced his collarbone, drawing lazy circles on his chest. “There’s more at stake than my safety and Viktor’s threats. I have to free my sister.”
“You don’t have the cure.”
“I don’t. I’m not asking you for it. Blay said you were the one who designed it. I don’t want Viktor to have it, even if it only works on wolves.”
He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it, sending tingles shooting up her arm.
“I’ll give it to you. It’s my blood. It’s—”
She sat up and put a finger over his lips. “Stop.” Her fingers massaged her forehead. “Crap, you shouldn’t have told me that much. Your people deserve this miracle for themselves. Since it won’t benefit infected humans, there’s no need for Viktor to have the authentic product.”
“He plans to kill you no matter what, even if he’s not sure you run the Nightshade League. I could tell it on the security feed.” He pushed up on his elbows and kissed her. The sweetness of the move melted her. “Don’t go.”
She avoided examining his face. She’d get sucked in by his concern and might even be swayed to make promises she couldn’t keep. “I have to attend, but Kiera won’t.”
He frowned, confused.
She smiled sadly. “You think I only have one identity? I have to free my sister.”
She gently kissed him while drawing his hand to touch her chest over her heart. “I’ll keep you here until the day I’m no more. Good-bye, Michael.” I love you. Seemed wrong to burden him with her feelings.
She felt him watching as she dressed and left without a backward glance. One look at him and she’d have been lost.
Chapter Seventeen
Michael’s leg popped up and down as he sat, sprawled on one of the leather sofas in Blay’s study. Kiera left an hour ago. Gone to her home, perhaps. No, she went to Italy in preparation for the event tomorrow. Michael should’ve stopped her. Maybe done some kidnapping of his own.
He hit the sofa’s arm with his closed fist.
What he’d shared with her had been…one unbelievable, mind-blowing night.
Now it was over. Relegated to the past. Something to erase from his mind.
He jumped up and paced in front of the bookshelves but stopped when he realized the activity got him nowhere but further pissed off.
Focus on something other than her.
The fireplace had a real wood fire in it, not the natural gas crap many had converted their fireplaces to burn. The wood glowed and crackled. Its smoky smell conjured memories of a long-ago home with his mother when he’d been seven, after his father died.
“She’s going to get herself killed going to the gala,” he muttered. The need to go after Kiera clawed at him from the inside out. Even if he couldn’t have her, he could protect her.
“That’s the third time you said those exact words in the past ten minutes. I agree she sucks at politics. That’s what’ll get her killed. Not her showing up.” Blay was too calm, sipping tea in his chair.
“How can you sit there and drink fucking tea? You could go after her and stop the madness. I, however, can’t. I have to go deal with the raid I helped set up yesterday. We’re attacking the center that held Grace hostage.”
“Do you have to? Have Bryan handle it. You’re not in the right mental place to do that right now.” He settled his cup on a side table, sauntered to his mahogany desk, and removed something from the top drawer. He handed Michael a small cigar.
“I don’t smoke.”
“Try it.” He sat on the corner of an armchair and lit one up himself. He held out his lighter. When Michael didn’t take it, Blay inhaled and breathed out a puff. “Humor me. It’s what you need.”
When Michael reached for one, Blay said, “Text Bryan. Have him delegate everything before he picks you up.”
He sent the text. Then lit up and inhaled. It burned, but he held it deep in his chest, forcing his lungs to remember how to handle smoke. A cough worked its way out. It’d been a long time. A second inhale and…
He found himself staring at the glossy black reliefs on the ceiling, reclining on a sofa whose arm dug into his neck. His mind swirled as he scanned the oxblood-colored leather chairs until he found Blay, who sat spread-eagled in a chair, head thrown back. How long had he been here? How many hits had he taken?
Looked like half the cigar was gone. He couldn’t remember if he puffed it or it had sat in his hand slowly burning down.
“What the hell is this stuff?” he asked.
“Good smoke,” Blay slurred out. He took another slow inhale and breathed out, his fingers playing in the exhaled smoke. “When you lose her…when your soul is so empty you wish you weren’t immortal, this is how you’ll survive the nights alone. There won’t be another who can soothe the burn. We only get one chance at forever.”
Michael took another inhale. He waved a hand in front of his face, the fingers blurring in and out of focus. “It’s not a matter of losing or keeping. It can’t be.”
“You never let anyone dictate to you, but in this, you’ll listen to societal crap? Go ahead. Try to disregard the need of your soul. A mated wolf can’t deny himself his female.”
“I’m
not mated to her.”
“Sure, you’re not.” Blay waved his hand as if conducting a symphony in his head.
“I don’t like Viktor threatening her.”
Blay lolled his head to face Michael. His accent thickened, blurring his words. “He hates her. She’s a threat because she’s older. Maybe not as old as we are, but old…older than most on the Foundry. She’s also pureblood, a direct bloodline from the original or, at least, theorized to be so. Those sanctimonious leeches prize purity. If anyone could take away Viktor’s throne…” His words stopped.
“Victor needs her dead.”
“Probably, but he doesn’t know she’s not all vampire.” Blay giggled out a strange noise and then burst into choke-sobbing laughter. He wiped at his eyes. “The joke’s on him. I dunno what she’s become, but it’s distinctly something not pure vampire. Maybe she never was pureblood.” He blew out smoke and played with it again. “I say let him try to kill her. If that druid shows up to protect her, all hell will break loose. Won’t be putting my money on blood suckers in that showdown.”
“Maybe you can recruit Isaac to our cause,” he grumbled.
“Oh, I tried when I ran into him a little over a year ago. Okay, it wasn’t an accidental run-in. I tracked him down. Not easy, mind you. But I found him. The holier-than-thou bastard spewed shit about destiny and not messing with the lines of time or some such nonsense. Then the asshole threw me through one of those energy tunnels.”
“But he saved Kiera. That’s a clear step into changing someone’s destiny.”
“She saved him. Tit for tat.”
“What do you know about what happened to give her that scar? She told me Isaac saved her life but didn’t go into a lot of details.”
Blay took another deep puff. “I knew Kiera before I met Arie. Most think it the other way around.”
“How’s that possible?” Michael tried to sit up straight but was too loopy.
“If she told you…” Blay shrugged. “That night when Isaac put her back together, Ehlena brought her to me. Ehlena and I ran into each other a few years earlier, both of us ghosts amongst our own people. We prefer the anonymity of being forgotten. Can’t say we hit it off right away. There was some snarling, but we ended up not hurting each other too much. She begged me to smuggle Kiera to the States until things cooled off over her killing her mate. Before we left for the States, Kiera spent many months with me and my people, recuperating. During that time, Isaac visited once. We didn’t speak. He didn’t know I watched him help her.”
