Arctic Bite

by N. J. Walters

  “You.”

  His blunt statement took her off guard. “Me? What about me?”

  He remained seated but reached out and hooked his hand behind her waist and sort of corralled her against his chest. His impossibly wide chest.

  “What are you doing?” Excitement and a sense of anticipation sent her heart racing.

  “Complicating things.”

  What does that mean?

  He pressed his lips against hers. They were soft and firm. Warmth spread from where they touched and traveled throughout her body, driving back the ever-present chill. She curled her fingers into his sweater to steady herself. The heat from his big body surrounded her.

  In spite of his size, he was extremely gentle. Most likely because of his size he was used to having to be careful.

  His beard was a soft brush against her chin. Her breath hitched in her throat when he eased away. His eyes seemed to glow. Then he blinked and they were normal again. A trick of the light and the passion clouding her brain.

  He inhaled sharply, his massive chest expanding. Wow, that kiss was tame by most people’s reckoning, but it sure packed a punch. Her knees were weak and her pulse fluttered wildly.

  He rested his forehead against hers and heaved a sigh. “That was nice.”

  Surprised, she laughed. He sat upright, a scowl on his face. She laughed even harder.

  “You’re the master of understatement,” she told him once she got control of herself. The corners of his mouth twitched but didn’t turn upward. Not quite. She wanted to see him smile, more than she should. Even more, she wanted to be the one to make it happen.

  He pressed his mouth against hers, tracing his tongue over her bottom lip.

  The surge of sensual arousal shocked her. Her nipples were taut buds, pressing against the cups of her bra. She wanted to rub them against the hard planes of his chest to ease the ache. Her skin was incredibly sensitized. The slightest touch, even the air, was magnified a hundredfold. A low pulse throbbed low in her belly. When her lips parted on a groan, he thrust his tongue inside.

  A supernova exploded inside her. Energy crackled all around them.

  He cupped the back of her head in one large palm and tilted it to the side, deepening the contact.

  She dug her fingers into his massive shoulders, which felt more like iron than flesh and blood, so she didn’t end up melting in a puddle at his feet. He was so big, so vital and alive. She could get up close and personal without any worry. Talk about a turn-on.

  But what about her?

  A relationship was out of the question. It could, and probably would, be used against her. Those searching for her might threaten to take his soul if she didn’t return to the fold.

  Assuming she still had a place there and they weren’t just looking to end her.

  Like a shot of arctic air blasting over her skin, the thought cooled her ardor. She shoved against the same shoulders she’d clung to only seconds before.

  He released her immediately, his hands dropping back by his sides. “What’s wrong?”

  It wasn’t something she could easily explain. Her life was too complicated and unbelievable. And while she might no longer be on the job, secrecy was ingrained into every molecule of her being. “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Everything.” Her laugh was strained, filled with desperation, longing, and loss. She wasn’t normal and never would be.

  “You should probably go.” It would be safer for everyone concerned if he went away. The sense of loss threatened to crush her, which was ridiculous. It was impossible to miss what she’d never had.

  Alexei slid off the stool, towering over her. Damn he was big. It would be impossible to make him leave if he didn’t go willingly.

  He hesitated for a split second, then nodded and headed toward the door. That was it. No objection. No questions.

  She followed, waiting as he pulled a knit hat out of his back pocket and jammed it on his head. After unlocking the door, she opened it and peered out at the parking lot. There was no vehicle there.

  “How are you getting back to town?”

  “Walking.” He went outside and inhaled the chilly night air. Standing in the doorway, she shivered.

  “Is there anyone I can call to give you a ride?” She didn’t like sending him out in the dark, frigid night alone. It had nothing at all to do with not wanting to let go of this evening.

  “I’ll be fine.” He started to walk, his boots crunching against the snow. The wind gusted around him, flicking the tips of his hair that extended from beneath his cap.

  It would be stupid to ask him to stay. Right? Having him leave was the right thing to do.

  Don’t do something you’ll regret.

  Sighing, she ignored her rational reasoning. “Wait.”

  He stopped but didn’t turn to face her.

  “It’s late and it’s a long walk back to town.” She was nervous and she was never nervous. Something about him both unsettled and excited her. “I have a sofa you can crash on.”

  It was the sensible thing to do. While she might not be ready to quite jump in bed with him, she didn’t want to let him walk away, either.

  As he turned, the snow blew between them, a filmy white curtain. He looked perfectly at home in the wintery setting while she was trembling with the chill.

  Then the corners of his mouth tilted upward, and she was lost.

  After making sure the door was secured, she held out her hand, and he took it. His skin was warm despite his lack of gloves. “Just the sofa,” she reminded him. And herself.

  He nodded. For some unknown reason, she trusted him to keep his word. She wouldn’t have to stay awake all night fearing he’d try to sneak into her bed uninvited.

  “This way.” One of the perks of her job was the small apartment above the bar, which was part of her salary. Not having to pay rent and getting decent tips along with a regular wage gave her enough money to live on. Things weren’t cheap up north.

  She hurried up the stairs, very aware of him following right behind her. Her hands shook as she unbolted the lock. She, a woman who’d guided the spirits of beggars and kings alike, who’d seen the rise and fall of every civilization since the dawn of mankind, was nervous.

  “Come in.” When she hurried inside, he was right behind her. The door closed with a solid thunk and the lock was engaged with a click.

  Chapter Three

  He might be part vamp, but he didn’t need an invitation to enter her home. That was nothing more than folklore. Still, it was nice to be asked. And totally unexpected.

  Walking away from her earlier had been more difficult than he’d anticipated. Pure relief had struck him when she’d called him back.

  Getting inside her home was smart. It would allow him to access more information about her. It had nothing at all to do with what they’d done earlier. Okay, maybe not nothing.

  He could still taste the warmth of her lips—the richness of the coffee, the sweetness from the sugar she’d used in it, as well as an indefinable essence that was all woman.

  The unfortunate side effect? His fangs were itching to come out and his gums ached. He’d hoped to have the opportunity to grab a bite—literally—from the four men. A few sips of blood from each wouldn’t have impaired them—at least not any more than they already were—and would have helped him settle. But there’d been no time or way to get them on their own.

  Now he was alone with Cassie. No way would he take her blood. Keeping his vamp side in check was of utmost importance. If he got out of control—

  Fear skated down his spine. Not going to happen.

  He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to relax and take stock of the situation. Having her ask him to come home with her was the last thing he’d expected when he’d taken a seat at the bar earlier tonight.

  Did she do this sort of thing ofte
n?

  From the way she hovered just inside the door with her hands clenched by her sides, he’d say that was a definite no. That made him feel special.

  And in a good way. Not in a “you look like a freaking serial killer” way.

  She confused him. He’d never had the urge to kiss any other target. Of course, all the others had been men, but that was irrelevant.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he surveyed the space, curious to see where she lived. It wasn’t large, but it was comfortable. The sofa looked inviting, if on the small side, but that wasn’t unusual for him. A matching chair and coffee table filled out the room.

  All the furniture could have been purchased from a 1970s catalogue. The orange, yellow, and green flowers splashed over the brown background were almost blinding. The short galley kitchen was off to the right. A small table was jammed under the window at the end. Straight ahead were two doors. He assumed they were the bathroom and bedroom.

  “It’s nice,” he told her.

  Giving a short laugh, she removed her boots and hung her coat on a hook by the door. “You’re being kind. It’s dated, but it’s clean and warm.”

  It was also impersonal. There was nothing of her to be seen. No books or magazines, no trinkets or pictures. Not even a pillow interrupted the wildflower pattern on the couch.

  This was not a home but a place to stay.

  His curiosity kicked up a notch. Most people surrounded themselves with things that were important to them or gave them pleasure. This was clean but impersonal.

  What was she hiding?

  She motioned to the sofa. “It’s not much.” When she measured the length of his body with her eyes, every muscle tensed. “It’s going to be too short for you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” he told her. “Most every piece of furniture is too short or small for me.”

  The corners of her mouth tipped upward in a beguiling smile. “I imagine it is.” She headed toward one of the other doors. “I’ll get you some blankets.”

  He could have told her he didn’t need them, but that would make her suspicious. He tugged on the hem of his sweater. It was really warm in here. Or was it being so close to her that was making him overheat?

  He shifted his weight from one leg to the other as she moved around in the other room. He leaned in to get a glimpse. The furniture in the bedroom didn’t seem to be any more modern than what was out here.

  Arms piled high with blankets and a pillow, she hurried back into the room. Her expression softened slightly when she saw him still standing in the entryway. “It’s okay to come in. I don’t bite.”

  “That’s my line.” When she frowned, he hurriedly added, “I didn’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable.”

  She dumped the load onto the couch. “You’re a good man, Alexei.”

  No, he wasn’t. He was a shapeshifting bear vamp who killed for a living. It helped to keep his demons at bay and quell the burning bloodlust that rose up in him.

  He shouldn’t be here.

  Before he did something stupid—like leave—he bent down and removed his boots. In his stocking feet, he walked toward her. The room seemed to shrink with each step he took.

  In such a small area, the familiar scent of wildflowers—which he’d now forever associate with her—greeted him, along with the more pungent smell of beer and fried food that clung to her hair and clothing. But beneath it all was the unique perfume of a woman.

  He inhaled sharply, taking in every note. He’d be able to track her wherever she went, to tell her from another with his eyes shut.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Smelling you,” he blurted before he thought better of it. His cheeks grew warmer.

  What in the hell is wrong with me?

  He was a member of an elite brotherhood, an immortal assassin, a shapeshifting polar vampire hybrid. He didn’t blush. Not ever.

  But apparently he did around Cassie.

  “Smelling me?” She bent her head and sniffed her top. “I didn’t think I sweat too much at work.”

  “You didn’t.”

  Stop talking now.

  Maybe banging his head against the wall would beat some sense into him. He knew his way around women, could talk to them. Okay, maybe that was a tiny exaggeration. He spent a lot of time alone. Usually when he went in search of companionship, the women weren’t interested in talking, only fucking.

  He was okay with that.

  But it had left him at a slight disadvantage. He’d never really learned how to have a conversation with an attractive, intelligent woman.

  “Ah, thanks?” The question in her tone made him hang his head and huff out a breath.

  “Yeah, it’s a compliment. A poor one. You smell nice.”

  Her laughter skated over his skin and raised goose bumps on his arms. His dick was already throbbing and at attention. He did his best to ignore the appendage, which was totally disregarding his directive to stay on task.

  Then she placed her hand on his arm. It was totally impersonal and through layers of his clothes, but it shocked him like a live wire. His breathing increased, and he fisted his hands by his sides to keep from grabbing her. The instinct to just take her and make sure she was safe was extremely powerful.

  He not only wanted to fuck her, he wanted to keep her.

  That was the one thing he couldn’t do.

  Not when he might end up having to put her down.

  Totally unaware of the fierce internal battle he was waging, she gave his arm a gentle squeeze before releasing it. “I guess I’ll head to bed. Bathroom is through there.” She pointed at the only other door in the room. “I’ll go first but won’t be long. It will give you time to make your bed on the couch.”

  She hurried into the bathroom and shut the door behind her.

  He lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck while he huffed out a deep breath.

  Get a grip.

  He had to get a handle on himself. Because one of the things he’d noted when he’d sniffed her was that she smelled human.

  Some paranormals had figured out how to mask their scent. With his dual enhanced senses, it was virtually impossible to hide from him. A creature’s true nature usually came through.

  What in the hell could she have done to piss off an immortal, especially tucked away in Alaska?

  It was a question that needed answering. There was obviously a lot more to the situation than he currently understood.

  Water started to run. His head snapped toward the bathroom. Hunger rose like a giant beast inside him, goading him to satisfy his sexual longings and his craving for blood.

  It would be so easy.

  Stop it!

  He yanked the chain on the feral side of his nature. He had to remain in command. It was more challenging than it should be, considering his reasons for being here.

  He was practically panting now, his entire being tuned to what was happening just beyond his view. Because through his impressive powers of deduction, he could say with certainty Cassie was naked with hot water sluicing over her lush body.

  He sat down on the floor. Hard. Good thing he’d avoided the couch, otherwise the gaudy flowers would have finally met their match. His balls ached, so he reached down and adjusted them, or at least tried to. There was no relief to be found. He had an almost overwhelming urge to pull down the zipper of his jeans, release his erection, and stroke himself until he came.

  That would be not only stupid but also insulting to Cassie. Inviting him to her apartment didn’t mean she was attracted to him.

  Maybe it had been nothing more than pity or her innate kindness. Like offering the local drunks coffee before they left, or the way she put a bowl of nuts in front of an older man so he’d eat something while drinking.

  Maybe she knew who he was and was luring him
into a false sense of security. The Brotherhood kept a low profile, but a select group knew who they were. Otherwise, how would they get any work? She might present as ordinary, but maybe she was just better at hiding her true identity.

  To discover the truth, he’d have to deepen his investigation.

  “Fuck,” he muttered as he rolled onto his hands and knees and shoved to his feet. It wasn’t easy with his jeans threatening to strangle his erection. With quick, easy motions, he made a bed on the couch, not because he planned on using it, but because she’d expect it.

  When that was done, he gave into curiosity and went to her bedroom. He didn’t cross the threshold but peeked in from the outside. If there was anything of a personal nature, she’d hidden it in one of the dresser drawers or maybe in the small closet or nightstand.

  On a normal job, he’d be pawing through her things without even thinking about it in his bid to uncover the truth.

  Cassie was different.

  Somewhere between the time he’d walked into the roadhouse and this moment, she’d become more than just a job.

  He ambled back to the couch and gingerly lowered himself. The wood creaked but held. They’d made furniture better forty years ago.

  Without his permission, his entire body turned toward the bathroom. Blood pumped hard and fast through his veins. Longing rose up inside him, constricting his throat.

  Cassie was in there, wet and naked.

  He forced his gaze to the ceiling, closed his eyes. It didn’t help. All it did was focus his sense of hearing. She hummed softly beneath the rush of the water.

  It’s going to be a hell of a long night.

  …

  She’d really lost her mind. Not even a hot shower could help. If anything, it made things worse.

  There was a complete stranger—a totally hot one, but still a stranger—in her living room while she was completely bare, the water gently pelting her body. Her nipples, already at attention, became even more painfully tight. An ache built between her thighs.

  He’d sniffed her.

  The expression on his face after he’d done it had been priceless. There was something about him that appealed to her. Too much. She couldn’t afford any attachments.