In the Mood Fur Love

by Eve Langlais

  “Not without Stavros” was her stubborn reply.

  “She’s mine,” he growled, suddenly not a bear anymore.

  But that didn’t stop someone in the chopper from shooting at him at her grandfather’s signal.

  “No!” she screamed, and then she was shot too.

  CHAPTER 18

  Stavros stretched and almost knocked her out of bed. Luckily, he grabbed the body before it went far and snuggled it against him. He nuzzled his face in Becka’s hair, breathing in her scent, soothed by it.

  And then remembered what the fuck had happened.

  In a single bound, he was out of bed, pacing.

  “What the hell? How did we get here?” He raked a hand through his hair and looked around the very pink bedroom, the window already fixed—more than likely by his cousin Ivan—and a very happy-looking Becka still lying in bed—wearing entirely too many clothes in his opinion.

  She stretched and kept smiling. “About time you woke up. Do you know you snore?”

  “I’m less interested in discussing my sleeping habits and more about how the hell I got here.”

  “I had a little help.”

  He arched a brow.

  She giggled. “Okay, lots of help. Or so I was told. We both kind of slept through it. Apparently, the chaos of the bomb and the shooting provided cover while your family smuggled us out of the police station.”

  “How exactly does one smuggle people”—one of whom would have been naked—“out of a police station under attack?”

  “Well, first of all, the attack was over by then. And second, the fire marshal”—ah yes, his second cousin Travis—“said there was a gas leak and had the area evacuated. That gave the gas company guys, which included even more of your family, time to get your ass out of there.”

  “What of you?”

  She shrugged. “I woke up before they were done. I only got shot with one tranquilizer, unlike you. It was suggested I stick around for a while since too many people saw me going in. But that Jenkins guy sped things along so I’d be here when you woke up.”

  He owed Jenkins a pitcher of beer.

  First, though, “Where are my pants?”

  “Why do you need pants?” She eyed him, and there was no hiding his happiness at seeing her.

  “You’re not safe. Those dudes in black are still out there.”

  “Yeah, about those guys. Turns out they’re the good guys. Of a sort. They’re bad, but bad on my side if that makes any sense.”

  “No, that makes no sense. They shot me. And you apparently.”

  “With a sleeping agent. My grandfather—”

  “Your grandfather? I thought he was dead.”

  “He is. Kind of.” She laughed and then took a moment to bring him up to speed, and he blinked several times during it. Said “fuck” a few times too.

  “So you mean to tell me,” he said slowly, “that you’re the great-times-a-couple-granddaughter of some big pooh-bah in the vampire world, and he raised you after your parents died, but someone found out who you are on account your blood is stupidly rare and thought they could use you to become a vampire too.”

  “Yes.” She smiled. It was cute, and a good thing, since she was delusional.

  “Vampires don’t exist. Fucktard wasn’t a vampire.”

  “No, he wasn’t, but he wanted to be one. Which would have never happened. According to my granddad, you have to be born with the right kind of blood. I’m the last of our line, but we’re not the only family apparently with the right kind of genes.”

  “So you’re a vampire?”

  “Not quite. Apparently, having the blood is only part of the deal. To fully turn requires some kind of ritual that requires an actual vampire and me dying.”

  “But you could totally be a hot undead chick if you chose?”

  “I’d rather be a chew toy for a bear.”

  The remark pulled a barking laugh from him. “I think that can be arranged. After a shower.” Because that smell coming from him was not sexy.

  “How big is your shower?” Becka asked with a slow, sexy grin. Which now and forever would be known as a boner grin.

  Then again, was there anything about her that didn’t make him hard?

  He couldn’t help but grab her off the bed in a hug that squished her. “I’m so glad you’re safe, although I do wish I’d had a chance to take a bite out of Fucktard.”

  “The important thing is he’s gone and isn’t coming back.”

  “Good, because the only thing I want to see coming tonight is you.”

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  He tossed her over a shoulder and ran them to the bathroom. In moments Stavros had the water streaming, but she still wore too many clothes. Offensive things. He wanted to tear them from her body but restrained himself. She’d shown herself resilient thus far, but he had to remember she was recently out of a traumatic situation. He had to take things slow.

  She must have noticed his hesitation, because she cupped his cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have manhandled you like that.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I’m not afraid with you. And I like it when you touch me. I’d like it even better if we were both naked.”

  Her clothes then hit the floor in a simple strip show that almost had him panting like a dog.

  With a swish of her hips, she entered the shower, and he could only stand and stare for a moment, stunned at how sexy she appeared, even more so with water glistening over her flesh. The soap she grabbed and lathered over her body was surely meant as a tease. Especially when she slid that slippery bar between her legs, back and forth in a manner that seemed more about pleasure than cleaning.

  Mmm. Wanna taste. His mouth almost watered he hungered so badly for her. He followed her into the shower, crowding her on purpose, and she didn’t flinch or move away. On the contrary, her hands flattened on his chest, stroking suds over his flesh.

  “Need a hand getting clean?” she teased.

  “Seems a waste since I’m planning to get us dirty.” He leered, and she giggled, a giggle that turned to a gasp as he slid his hands down her back, tracing her skin to the tops of her buttocks. Her nipples, pressing against his chest, puckered and begged him to nibble. Instead, he kissed her, claimed that mouth of hers, and groaned as she responded, fiery hot and passionate.

  But he’d waited forever, it seemed, for more than just a taste of her lips. Angling her so her back pressed against the shower wall, he ducked that he might suck one of the buds that tempted him. She inhaled sharply, and he rumbled around the breast in his mouth before sucking it hard. His tongue slid around her nipple, toying with it, teasing it into a sharp point before switching to the other side. Back and forth, he licked and sucked, pausing to occasionally rub his scruffy jaw against her skin. Mostly because she shivered so wildly each time.

  He could have played with her lovely breasts all day. But something else beckoned.

  He dropped to his knees before her, a supplicant to her altar of honey. Her thighs parted at his gentle touch, exposing her but, best of all, showing him her trust.

  A trust he would never abuse. Although he might make her scream.

  In pleasure.

  His tongue lapped at the core of her, tasting her slick honey, the sweetness of her making him throb. Her swollen flesh quivered against his tongue as he licked. Her body tensed and shuddered as pleasure mounted within her.

  A peek upward showed her staring down at him, her lips curved in a wanton smile. He almost came just with that one look. He’d never seen anything more perfect.

  All mine.

  While a part of him wanted her to come on his lips, he was a selfish bear. He wanted her first orgasm to be on his cock. He wanted to feel her coming apart as he penetrated her. Claimed her.

  Took her and made her his.

  He stood and gasped as she gripped his rigid cock and slid her hand back and forth.

  “My turn,” she whi
spered before dropping down before him.

  As if he’d say no. Hell, he wasn’t sure he knew how to speak after the first flick of her tongue against the head of his cock. He couldn’t help but tangle his fingers in her hair as she lapped the swollen head of his shaft. A groan escaped him when she stopped teasing with her tongue and took him into her mouth.

  The fingers in her hair tightened and he had to remind himself to stay gentle, but apparently she didn’t feel the same qualm, because she sucked him hard. So hard, and she dug her nails into his thighs as she suctioned, deeper and deeper into the warm recess of her mouth. He groaned again when she fondled his heavy sack.

  He wanted to come so badly, but he held back. Held on. He was still determined to have his first orgasm buried to the hilt within her. Pure torture and bliss.

  Time to finish this.

  He drew her to her feet and took her mouth, took her lips with passionate urgency, as his hands spanned her waist. Then he spun her until she faced the shower wall. A gentle pressure in the middle of her back bent her so that she presented her delectable backside. Apparently, she understood where he was going with this, because her hands flattened on the wall and she shot him a sultry look over her shoulder.

  “Is this the part where we get dirty?”

  “So dirty,” he murmured as the swollen head of his cock nudged against her nether lips. Her sex parted for him, and he pushed into her, slowly, so slowly, wanting to take it easy. To control himself. To—

  “Ahhh.” He couldn’t help the noise, not when she shoved back hard against him, impaling herself on him, forcing him to sink so deep.

  He almost came. As it was, it took him a moment and a breath or two to control himself.

  No coming until she does.

  That was the plan. And he was sticking to it. Despite the shower water making things tight, he managed to thrust into her, his cock, throbbing and hard, driving deep, each stroke wringing a moan from her. Hell, each stroke drew a groan from him.

  Their tempo increased, faster and faster, the steam of the shower almost as hot as their panting breaths. When her orgasm finally hit, he felt it, not just with his cock or his body, but with all of his being. In that moment, as her flesh shuddered around him, a bond was forged between them, something unbreakable and perfect.

  Almost as perfect as his own orgasm. He claimed her with his seed, the hot spurts of it welcomed by her pulsing channel, leaving them spent and breathless.

  But happy. So fucking happy.

  As a guy, he didn’t do fucking poetry or flowery words and shit, but on this occasion, the first time he truly claimed his mate, he felt it needed something special. Something she would never forget.

  “That was awesome.” Okay, not the most incredible of speeches, but good news; he doubted she’d ever forget the hollered, “Now that you’re done making the kitchen light shake, are you coming down for dinner?”

  Eat them. Maybe later. First he needed to dine on some honey—my mate’s honey—for dessert.

  Grawr.

  EPILOGUE

  Imagine that, Stavros snored like a bear. Deep, and rumbling, but Becka didn’t mind it. Probably because I love him.

  The realization didn’t shock her, even if a part of her still thought it was too soon to feel it. Then again, exactly what constituted love? Did love come only over a predetermined stretch of time? Or did it really come down to something as simple as divine fate? Why couldn’t love be two people meeting and instantly recognizing they were meant to be together?

  Like me and Stavros.

  What a strange series of events had brought them together. So much had changed, and for the better.

  Vlad was gone. His body splattered on the sidewalk, and the autopsy revealed there was nothing vampire about him. The teeth? Implants. His aversion to sun, fake. He was just a rich boy who thought he’d found the secret to immortality in her rare blood type.

  The blame for the attack on the station was fully placed on him. Most of the thugs he’d brought were dead or languishing in cells, bitching he had them mesmerized with his vampire powers. The district attorney wasn’t having any of it.

  As for the bear some people claimed they saw at the station during the fight? Chalked up to a hallucination brought on by major stress.

  The incident did have one interesting side effect. Being short a few officers meant Stavros got his job back with a stern warning to stay away from any marijuana cases. An easy promise to make because, as Stavros confided, his cousin Niko had a stash almost ready to crop.

  A few days had passed, a few days of whirlwind depositions, and meeting more family, and eating massive amounts of food with said family, followed by intense lovemaking to work off the food.

  As of last night, they slept at his place, the army of aprons having swept through, repairing and cleaning the damage done by Fucktard—snicker—and his thugs. The wonderful women who’d taken her in as one of their own had even strewn the bed with rose petals—which set her off sneezing. But once Stavros cleared the room of flowers, changed the sheets, and got her an antihistamine, they had a wonderful time.

  So why was she awake at three in the morning? She didn’t know, but she wouldn’t deny a certain restlessness, which was why she rolled out of bed. He grumbled in his sleep, his arm waving around for her. He loved to snuggle.

  A smile stretched her lips as she leaned down to place a light kiss on his cheek. “I’m just going to get a drink of water.”

  Yet it wasn’t thirst that drew her to the living room, more like … anticipation. She walked in and stopped, not out of fear or even surprise. Somehow she had known he was there.

  “Poppa.” His name spilled out softly.

  He looked the same as he always did, the streetlight outside providing enough illumination through the living room window for her to notice his thinning gray hair, stooped shoulders, and weathered features so different from the man hidden within the helmet on the rooftop.

  “My sweet little Bee. I came to see if you were all right.”

  “Of course I am. Even better now that I know you’re not dead.” She approached him, not fearful at all of the man who raised her, despite what he was.

  “I’m hard to kill.” For some reason that struck her as funny, and she laughed, a mirth he shared with her.

  They soon got serious again.

  “Are you going back to Seattle?” The place they’d lived before Vlad barreled into her world and stole her.

  He shook his head. “There’s nothing for me there. I’m thinking of starting anew in this city. I thought I might stay close in case my little Bee needs me.”

  “I’ll always need you, Poppa.” She couldn’t help the tightening of her throat as she said it. Here was the man who’d raised her, always been there, who loved her. When she’d thought he was dead, she was devastated. Now he was still kind of dead, but that didn’t change who he was at heart. My poppa.

  “About the whole poppa thing, we might have to perhaps change that to ‘uncle.’ I only ever adopted the persona of an elderly relative to forestall questions, but now that my secret is out…” He smiled, and as he smiled—without the giant fangs legend gave vampires—he straightened, his hair thickened, and the creases on his face smoothed. The transformation took only seconds, and at the end of it a man in his prime stared back at her. The face might be younger, the posture much better, but the eyes? She’d know those eyes anywhere.

  “Are you sure I shouldn’t call you Daddy?” She smirked as he cringed.

  “You’re a naughty girl, little Bee. Good thing you have a strong man to watch over you.”

  Speaking of which … “Is it truly over?” And by “over” she meant not just Vlad and his insane quest for immortality but also someone else who might get the crazy idea to use her rare blood.

  “The blood test results that led him to you have been modified. You needn’t fear, but just in case, I recommend you don’t give blood in the future.”

  “I’ll make sure she
doesn’t.” The rumbled words came from behind her a moment before Stavros’s arms wrapped around her. She relaxed into his embrace, her days of flinching over.

  “Ah yes, the teddy bear she insists on keeping. Take care of her. Or else you’ll find a place in front of the fireplace as a rug at my cabin.”

  “You needn’t worry, sir. I’ll take good care of Becka.”

  “I do believe you will.” Her poppa’s expression softened. “I’m going to miss seeing you every day.”

  “Me too,” she whispered.

  “I’ll text you my new address in a few days. I’m thinking something penthouse-ish with a balcony. The ladies love that, and it’s been a while since I entertained.” A rakish wink made her laugh. His piece said, her grandfather/uncle/vampire whirled and dove through the open window, probably the same one he’d used to get in. Except … it didn’t have a fire escape.

  “Poppa!” She couldn’t help but gasp and run to peek, but he was gone. Gone but always watching. Watching over her, the last of his ancestors.

  “Is this the wrong time to say how much I love you?”

  Startled, she turned in Stavros’s arms. “Why do you say that?”

  “Because you’re mine, and I’m so happy that, as it turns out, you can bear my touch.”

  And if they kept making love at the rate they currently enjoyed, she’d be bearing his cub in no time too.

  FAKE MATED TO THE WOLF

  Milly Taiden

  For everyone that loves a happily-ever-after

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Sheri Spell—Thanks for your help all the time when I get stuck. You’re such a wonderful friend.

  Tina Winograd—Thanks for always having my back, girlfriend.

  CHAPTER 1

  Shawna Goode slammed the phone down and cursed silently under her breath. The rat bastard boss of hers was going to drive her into a room with padded walls, and not the kind you stuck to in those Velcro suits either. She was destined for the insane asylum or maybe even the courtroom on murder charges. Shawna smiled evilly when she realized that she’d have a good chance of being acquitted of all charges when she explained to the jury, who would be at least partially women, the things the man said and did that caused her to explode.