Punished

by Samantha Stone

  Then he brought his knee up between her legs and bit her throat gently, kissing the mark she was sure he left. She’d never felt like this in her life. Her body was on fire, begging for more of his touch.

  “Mine,” he growled, his hand drifting to her chest.

  Mary was aching against her shirt. The fabric felt heavy against her; she wanted it off, wanted Raphael’s hands on her skin. “Take it off,” she gasped. Raphael swiftly lifted it over her head, unsnapped the front clasp of her bra. When he brought one of her breasts to his mouth, she inhaled sharply.

  Her Raphael knew how to use his tongue.

  She ran her hands up and down his hard back as he laved her breasts. When she pulled at the waistband of his shorts he stopped, leaving her feeling cold. She shot him a frown. He smiled in return, again revealing those devastating dimples.

  Raphael took her hands in his and kissed her sweetly before rolling to his side. “Where I’m from,” he said, placing a kiss to her wrist, “a man courts a woman before making her his. I’d like to court you.” His smile turned wicked. “I promise, in time I will have you.”

  “Courting, huh?” Mary mused. In college, if a date included dinner the guy was considered old-fashioned. Most of her friends considered trysts in fraternity houses “dating,” no courtship required.

  Could this man be any sweeter?

  “Sounds like fun,” she said, running her fingers through his hair, “but I’m going to court you first.”

  “You are?” he asked, surprise coating his voice.

  “Yes.” She rose, putting on her shirt and bra. “Starting now.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “I may prefer you without a shirt, but that may be frowned upon in public places.”

  Raphael finally pulled his shirt back on. Mary held out her hand to him; he took it with no hesitation.

  “I see how you punish yourself, how you restrain yourself.” She pulled him closer to her. “I can’t convince you that you’re wonderful, which you are.” She put her hand to his chest. “But I can to show you how I treat the most kind-hearted man I know.”

  She kissed him, ignoring his bemused expression, and led him from the room. “I hope you’re up for a walk.”

  Mary took him to Café du Monde, where they bought beignets to go. As always, she bought hot chocolate, despite the heat. She showed him her favorite spot to sit along the river, where she liked to watch boats and barges slowly pass.

  “I can’t believe you’ve never had a beignet before,” she exclaimed. Growing up here, she’d rarely been allowed to venture downtown. Now that she was older the old coffee stand had become a treat she’d gifted herself whenever she could afford it.

  Raphael grunted, the pile of powdered sugar atop the beignet he was biting into blowing into a cloud. The tough werewolf was unfortunately clad in black, which was now dotted with puffs of sugar. Mary couldn’t help but laugh, so hard she was clutching her middle, rocking on the bench.

  He blew the sugar at her, catching her in the face.

  “Do you like it?” she asked, gasping for breath.

  Raphael drew her in for a kiss. “Yes,” he said, “but I like you better.” He tasted sweet. She kissed away some sugar that landed by his ear.

  She loved seeing him like this. He was playful. The man needed playfulness, she decided. There was no shadow over his features, no weight upon his shoulders. He was just a man on a date, absently patting his now-gray shirt.

  As she watched him steal one of her beignets, she knew she would give him everything she had.

  * * * *

  Raphael held Mary tightly the next morning, luxuriating in the feel of her soft skin against his. Her lilac scent wrapped around him; her leg tangled with his. She’d woken him up by grabbing his hand and placing her face against it, her even breaths never changing rhythm.

  She’d shocked him last night with her declaration to court him. She had no idea how well she succeeded; she showed him some of her favorite places in the city, and they’d instantly become his favorites too. They watched the river calmly move forward, unconcerned with botos or werewolves or the petty problems Raphael heard humans scream into their cell phones about. Mary made him laugh. Only for her did he feel light; only in her did he see hope for himself.

  Raphael got out of the bed, careful not to wake her. He wouldn’t interrupt her rest; although, she looked much better than she had a few days ago. Her eyes were no longer bruised, and her cheeks were filling out. She looked healthier, more alive. Simply watching her sleep made Raphael’s body harden. He burned with desire only she could sate, but he held it back, closer to him.

  He wanted to do right by her. She wasn’t a woman to tup and forget about—there was nothing forgettable about Mary. So he lightly padded from the room, knowing he would have her only when he knew she wouldn’t live to regret her actions. He wanted to earn her trust.

  Raphael refused to mar the only good in his life.

  She would be crazed with desire for him before he would take her. Every time she took another lover, she would remember Raphael.

  The thought made his claws come out. Suddenly he wanted to kill all the men who would ever look at Mary with lust. What can I offer her? Just these few days, nothing more. He should want her to have lovers after him, to mother children who shared her glowing eyes.

  There was something else he could do for her.

  A few blocks uptown, Sebastian met him on a corner in front of an older building covered in windows. It was empty and a little dusty, but Raphael could already see paintings lining the walls, Mary sitting on a stool in the center of the room with paint smudged on her cheeks.

  “There’s a loft apartment above the studio.” Sebastian handed him a set of keys with a Full Moon Brewery bottle opener attached. “Tell her she has her first commission. I need a design for the labels and boxes of a new line we’re going to release in about six months.”

  Raphael took the keys. “Give her some time,” he said. Living in the firehouse, realizing she’s a banshee, losing Raphael—it would all be a great adjustment for her. Mary was strong enough to withstand it all. Sebastian nodded. “It’s a good idea,” Raphael told him sincerely. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll have some art supplies delivered, get the place cleaned,” Sebastian said, moving to the black Mercedes G-Wagon he probably loved too much.

  “I want to get the supplies,” Raphael said.

  “Need a ride?”

  Raphael took his friend up on the offer, and spent an hour choosing which paints to buy for Mary. He found colors that mimicked the color of her lips, her cheeks and her eyes. He looked for the colors of a bright, cloudless day. He was only satisfied when he’d purchased the best of the paints, canvases and brushes. The older woman who owned the store sneaked a few small bottles into the bag, claiming Mary would need them too.

  He took his purchases back to the studio and set them in the corner so they wouldn’t be stepped on. Light flooded the room. He smiled. It was perfect for Mary. Fitting another key to the door leading upstairs, he curiously explored the loft Sebastian mentioned.

  Dust covered the kitchen counters and the small, covered couch that faced an old television. A spiral staircase led to a tiny bedroom and bathroom. Raphael loved the balcony encircled in wrought iron. It overlooked a park where he could see children running around their parents and pets exploring healthy, groomed foliage. Mary will love this. She will be happy here.

  She would be perfectly content at the firehouse too, but Raphael wanted her to have a place all her own. She didn’t realize it, but she needed someplace for herself.

  He left the studio and walked back to the firehouse, where an unfamiliar human regarded him from across the street. Raphael shrugged, dismissing him as a threat. He hadn’t seen the man guarding the botos’ mansion yesterday. Those were the only humans he would concern himself with.

  “Raphael!” Mary shouted, leaning from an open window upstairs. “Come inside, now!”

  The human looke
d from Mary to Raphael, lifting the same semiautomatic gun the botos had given their guards. “Don’t fight him,” Mary cried, turning the human’s attention to her. “Please trust me, and get inside!”

  The human aimed his gun in her direction and shot several times. Fury almost overcame Raphael. Mary was gone from the window, but had she been hurt?

  He cursed at the man, a bullet tearing through his shoulder as he sprinted to the door. The human’s footsteps pounded behind him. Raphael turned and kicked him in the chest. He heard the crack of bone; still, it shouldn’t kill him. The human flew backward, crumpling at the bottom of the stairs leading to the door.

  Raphael slammed inside, bolting the door behind him. “Mary!” he exclaimed, crazed with worry. If anything happened to her…

  She met him in the hallway, a plastic box in her hands. Blood rolled down her arm. Raphael roared. She ignored him, running forward to wrap her arms around his waist. “I’m fine,” she said breathlessly. “It only grazed me; it barely hurts.” She looked up at his shoulder and gasped. “You were hit!” She lifted his shirt off and wrapped it around the wound. Her expression was murderous.

  Raphael shook his head. “We need to focus. How did you know he intended to hurt us?”

  Mary tore her angry gaze from his arm. “I saw him twice when I was out yesterday. I thought it was a coincidence until I looked out the window earlier.”

  Raphael wrapped his good arm around her, steering her down the hall, away from the danger. “Is anyone else here?” He knew Cael and Sebastian weren’t, but he hoped Heath and Alex were nearby in case more humans came.

  “I don’t know,” Mary answered. She shoved the plastic box into his hands. “These are tranquilizer guns. Aiyanna bought them for you all yesterday.”

  “With Cael’s credit card,” Heath said dryly, having entered from the stairwell on near-silent feet. He rubbed his sleeved arm and yawned, as if he’d just woken up. “Did I hear gunshots?”

  Mary nodded as footsteps sounded outside. Motioning for Mary and Heath to stay back, Raphael approached the door. He could smell humans, at least a dozen of them. They didn’t say a word to one another, but their steps shuffled in unison, their hands shifting on something.

  “They have a battering ram,” he yelled seconds before it crashed into the door, cracking the wood down the middle. He opened the box and threw a gun to Heath, and one to Mary.

  “I want you away from this,” he murmured when he met Mary, shoving her behind him. “Where’s Alexandre when we need him?” he growled at Heath.

  “He’s stalking her sister.” Heath jerked his head at Mary, who sighed.

  “I should have known he’d follow her,” she said wearily. “But I’d rather her not be here for this.”

  The ram hit the door again, sending splinters flying across the foyer.

  “Go downstairs and lock yourself in the room with the steel door,” Raphael ordered. No humans would be able to break into their garage.

  Mary didn’t move. She was unapologetic, unwavering beside him. She held up her gun. “I stayed to help you, not to hide.”

  She didn’t flinch when the ram finally went through the door, but he caught the tremor in her hands. The blood had leeched from her face. She was choosing to stand beside him, to protect him, risking her own life.

  He wouldn’t let them touch her.

  “We’ve got to control this,” Heath hissed. “It’s too great a risk to let them inside the house.”

  “They’re scared of us,” Raphael said. The door fell down flat, light pouring in around the humans whose guns were still pointed down as their eyes adjusted to their surroundings. “They’re going to shoot first—we’re outnumbered.” Again.

  Heath released a round of tranquilizers, bringing down three humans. “We’ll have to be quicker,” he snarled.

  A shot went off, tearing a hole in the wall. Another had Heath stumbling backward. Raphael spread his arms in front of Mary, dropping his gun. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—risk her being shot. He could recover; she would die.

  She clapped her hands over his ears and screamed, and it was like nothing he’d ever heard before. The sound of her voice was so full of woe, it willed his heart to stop. Hers was the voice that whispered death was coming…gleefully.

  He felt blood ooze from his ears.

  The humans writhed on the ground, their torsos arching, legs kicking. Blood poured from their eyes, ears and mouths. Raphael realized that Mary was taking care to aim her scream at the humans; it was barely affecting him or Heath, who stared at her with his mouth open.

  Mary stopped, cleared her throat. “That’s harder when there’s more than a few people,” she said, her voice husky. Raphael ignored the way her voice turned him on, adjusting himself surreptitiously.

  This time when he told her to stay back, she did, clutching her unused gun to her side.

  About half of the humans were sprawled in the foyer, pieces of wood scattered around them. Raphael took their guns while Heath shot them with tranquilizers. He shot a particularly large man twice.

  Those who hadn’t yet made it inside the house fared better. They gripped their heads or were trying to breathe, hands on their knees, but they weren’t down. Raphael barreled into one of the men, bringing him and the man behind him to the ground. They were unconscious before Heath shot them.

  Heath tranqued a man whose head was between his legs. He fell to his face, unconscious.

  The last three humans were the largest of the group. They looked like they lifted weights—one of them even wore a shirt that said so. At the sight of Raphael and Heath, they seemed to shake off the pain Mary caused, horror dawning in their expressions. The man on the right recovered first. He shot at Raphael and missed, hitting the house. Brick flew everywhere, littering the sidewalk.

  Raphael used the distraction to two-punch one human in the stomach and the next in the face. The last pissed himself. What did the botos do to these men?

  Heath hit all three of them with the tranquilizers, double-tapping each man. “What do we do with them?”

  Raphael had no idea. They could use the garage to hold them, but it wasn’t a permanent solution. They would need the room free of humans by tomorrow night, the first night of this month’s full moon. Then, any humans who found themselves there would die a terrible death.

  “I’ll call Aiyanna.” Mary clutched the doorway as if it were the only thing keeping her from crumpling to the floor.

  Raphael rushed to put a supportive arm around her, and she sagged against him. His shoulder throbbed; he wished he could lift her.

  “The tranquilizers were her idea,” she continued. “I’m assuming she knows what to do with the humans now that they’re down.”

  “You’re right.” Raphael kissed the pulse at her temple.

  “Guard your wallets,” Heath murmured.

  Mary shot him a murderous look. Heath raised his hands in surrender. “Just don’t scream at me, please,” he said with a raised brow.

  While Mary cracked a smile and dialed Aiyanna, Raphael and Heath went from human to human, checking for pulses. Each had one, however sluggish.

  Mary hung up, resting her head and her hip against the wall. She was obviously tired, but she didn’t complain. Her pallor hadn’t left her, but her eyes glowed, as always. Raphael was in awe of her strength.

  “Aiyanna said these men are going to jail, and to trust the cops who come by.”

  Soon three NOPD SUVs pulled up to the firehouse. Each was driven by a shapeshifter, but Raphael couldn’t quite pinpoint which species. They didn’t smell of panther like Aiyanna.

  The tallest of the three, a man with a shaved head and tattoos that rose above the collar of his shirt, surveyed the unconscious humans with a frown. “They’re controlled by botos?” he asked gravely.

  “Yes,” Raphael said. “I think they were commanded to fear us, fear breaking orders, or both.”

  The female officer played with the rim of her backward baseball cap.
“That’s typical,” she said. “Their fear feeds the botos’ powers, just like any other intense emotion.”

  “What’re you doing at a scene like this, sweetheart?” the last officer asked Mary. He was walking toward her, one arm extended as if he intended to help her. His light hair was tied back in a queue, his straight teeth bared in a self-assured smile.

  Raphael caught himself from leaping for the man. He couldn’t stay with Mary for another week, how could he expect her refuse other men?

  “I was just helping out my boyfriend here,” Mary said lightly, pointing to Raphael.

  He felt himself grin. He wanted to beat his chest, put her over his good shoulder and carry her to his bed. He might just, once these humans were squared away. Mary had publicly claimed him—there was no going back from that.

  She shot him a sheepish, apologetic smile over the officer’s head, as if he would be angry over what she said. He met her eyes, letting her see how much he wanted her. Finally color leapt back to her cheeks, followed by a broad smile.

  “Mary’s a banshee, you know,” Heath said, watching Raphael and Mary knowingly. “She took out most of these guys.”

  “Nice!” the female officer fist-bumped Mary.

  The shapeshifter who spoke to her widened his eyes, stepping back to put distance between them. Good.

  The six of them loaded the humans into the SUVs, Heath and Raphael pretending to let Mary bear some of the weight. The slight female shapeshifter hefted one of the heavier humans over her shoulder; Mary watched, her own shoulders drooping. “I’ll never be that strong,” she murmured.

  “You can take out many more enemies at one time than she can,” Raphael whispered. He took her hand and kissed it. “You’re strong, ülikena.”

  Mary instantly squared her shoulders, lifted her chin. “I am, aren’t I?” She smiled, pleased with herself.

  Raphael was pleased with her too, and he intended to show her just how much. This might be their last night together, because of the upcoming full moon. He wanted to make the best of every moment they had.

  Chapter 9

  The men who attacked the firehouse were carted away to jail, apparently to await the death of the botos. “For their minds to be their own again,” the large, bald policeman said, “that’s what it would take.”