by Cynthia Eden
She tried to be good. She really did. Some days—some nights, rather—it was just hard to toe the line.
Isabella locked the thin motel door behind her. Then she yanked the dusty cover off the bed and hung it over the lone window in the room, hoping for a bit more protection from the sun. The sun was poison for her kind. If she got too much of it, then Isabella would be getting one very serious sunburn—the kind that ended with her being ash that floated in the wind.
When she’d made sure to cover every available inch of that window, Isabella collapsed onto the bed. It sagged beneath her, but she didn’t care. She was far away from the crazy werewolf. She was out of the sun. And she was safe, for the moment.
She just wasn’t sure how long that safety would last.
Her eyes closed.
And her wrist throbbed from a bite that had healed hours ago. Impossible.
Mate.
He was wrong. A heavy, drugging weariness pulled at her. The higher the sun rose, the weaker she would become. That weakness was such a danger for her kind. She was always at her most vulnerable when the sun brightened the sky.
The werewolf had found her before. Would he find her again? Surely not. She’d driven so far. She’d—
A knock sounded at her door. She forced her heavy eyelids open.
“Sweetheart…” That was his voice. Griffin. “Open the door. I know you’re in there.”
She didn’t move off the bed. No, no, he couldn’t be out there. And she couldn’t let him in. She was too weak already. If she let him in now, she would be defenseless against him. The werewolf could kill her.
“If you don’t let me in…” What could have been laughter slid beneath his words. “Then I’ll just huff and puff…”
Her hand fisted around the sheet, jerking it away from the mattress.
“And I’ll break the door down.” He knocked again, harder this time.
Her whole body seemed sluggish. Isabella tried to push herself up, but instead of rising, she just flopped off the bed and hit the floor with a heavy thunk.
“Isabella?” Alarm sharpened his voice. Then he was breaking down the door. She heard the weak wood splinter and sunlight poured into the room. Because she was on the floor near the side of the bed, the light didn’t hit her, but she still let out a quick cry.
Immediately, he was in front of her. Griffin was wearing mismatched clothes and frowning at her. His hands reached out to her. “Isabella—”
“Don’t…hurt me.” She hated begging him, but there was no choice. She could barely move at all any longer. I hate the sun so much.
He blinked. “Hurt you?”
Her lashes began to close.
“Sweetheart, I will never hurt you. I swear that on my own life.” He lifted her up with hands that were far too gentle to belong to a werewolf. He rose, with her cradled against his chest, and she could hear the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat. “Guess this part of the old story is true, huh? The day is your most dangerous time.”
He put her in the middle of the bed. She heard the floor creak, and then the door squeaked as it was…closed?
She managed to crack open one eye and saw that, yes, he’d shut the door. He’d even put a chair under the broken part to help hold the door in place.
And he was stalking back toward her.
The bed sagged even more when he slid in beside her. His hands reached out, and Griffin pulled her against his body. He was so warm. Strong.
Safe.
No, no, that’s a lie. There’s no way I can find safety with someone like him.
“You sleep. I’ll watch over you during the day.” His lips pressed to her cheek. “That’s the way it was so long ago, right? And I guess that’s what will happen for us.”
Watching…over her? No, no one ever watched over her. She was on her own. Had been for far too long. She didn’t have a family. She didn’t have friends. Not anymore. They’d all turned their backs on her. She was the freak. She was the broken one. Her own kind had tried to kill her.
But a werewolf was holding her in his arms. He was keeping her close. Impossibly, she found her breath easing into the rhythm of her deepest sleep as she finally let the last bit of her control go.
And she slept, cradled close by the man who should have been her mortal enemy.
***
Carter marched into the motorcycle shop. Silence greeted him, and all the werewolves assembled…shit, their eyes were cold. He saw flashes of fang and the curve of razor sharp claws. All of the beasts were close to the surface. With damn good reason.
“Speak.” It was the pack leader’s voice—booming out and echoing around the garage. The place was a chop shop some days and a semi-legitimate business on others. It was also werewolf central in Vegas because the motorcycle gang leader—he was also the leader of their pack. Vane Bollen stood in the middle of that shop, his arms crossed over his chest, and his long, black hair brushing over his shoulders. Tattoos covered his arms—tattoos in the shapes of wild wolves running beneath the moon.
Even on good days, Carter found Vane to be an arrogant asshole. But the guy had been pack leader when Carter rolled into town, and pack law was pack law. Carter exhaled on a hard breath. “There’s a new vamp in town.”
Vane laughed. “So? Griffin takes care of them.”
Yes, normally, he did. Griffin was Vane’s enforcer. From what Carter had seen, Griffin normally did all the dirty work, while Vane took the credit for the pack’s tough-as-nails reputation. “Not this time.”
There were murmurs from behind him.
Some of the smugness left Vane’s face. “What?”
“He was…” Shit, he felt like such a total traitor. Carter’s gaze jerked around the shop. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe…
“What was Griffin doing?” Vane demanded. Then, before Carter could speak, Vane bounded forward. He grabbed Carter’s shirt-front. “Your blood?”
Yes, it was. He was a bit of a bleeder. “Griffin fought me.”
More murmurs. Werewolves could be some gossipy bastards.
“Why?” Vane’s fangs were lengthening. His brown eyes were gleaming with the power of a wolf.
Carter swallowed. This was such a mistake. But… “Promise we help Griffin. I’ve heard of this happening—it was just a long fucking time ago, but I heard the stories. If we can separate them, promise we’ll help Griffin.” Because that was what he wanted to do. He wanted to help his friend.
Help Griffin, not hurt him. Not kill him.
“Why does Griffin need help?” Vane’s voice boomed.
No one was murmuring any longer. They were all too busy waiting for Carter’s response. Dammit. “Because he was protecting the vamp. He was fighting me…for her.”
And the garage erupted with howls of fury.
***
Isabella’s eyes flew open. Scared, frantic, her gaze jerked to the left—and she saw the peeling paint on the wall. Then she rolled, turning her body to the right and saw—
A big, naked werewolf.
“That’s good to know,” Griffin murmured, his voice low and sexy and rumbling straight through her body. “You don’t wake up slowly. It’s fast—just bam, the sun sets and you’re back with me.”
Back with him? “Why are you in bed with me?”
“Because it was easier to hold you this way?”
She sat up, fast, and yanked the thin sheet up with her. Then Isabella realized she was still wearing her clothes.
He lifted one dark brow. “I took off my own clothes—I like to sleep in the nude, for future reference—but stripping you while you were unconscious wasn’t exactly the move of a gentleman.”
She licked her lips. His gaze followed that movement and heated.
Hello, trouble.
Isabella cleared her throat. “Is that what you are? Some kind of gentleman werewolf?”
He laughed. The sound was deep and rumbly and for some reason, it made her heart feel warm.
“Hardly, sweetheart.”
“I’m not exactly known as a good guy in wolf circles.” He turned onto his side and the sheet had dropped very, very far on him. Mostly because I snatched it from him. But his part of the sheet dipped far enough for her to see the rippling muscles of his six pack. Twelve pack? Far enough for her to see the faint edge of—
“I can get rid of the sheet, if you want,” he offered. “My body is yours.”
She needed to get out of that bed. She needed to stop gaping at him. Her gaze rose, but then her eyes were just caught by his tattoos. Dark, swirling tattoos that covered his left arm from shoulder to forearm.
“Special ink.” His voice was low. “Had to be special, otherwise, my body just would have pushed the ink right out. These are pack tats. They tell other wolves that I’m a hunter.”
The fact that he was a hunter was hardly reassuring.
“I’m guessing you’ve never fucked a werewolf before.”
Her attention snapped back to his face. “No.” Not likely, considering she’d been told for most of her life that a wolf would— “Gobble me up,” she whispered.
His green eyes—smoldering eyes—narrowed. “What?”
“I was…I was told that werewolves were too dangerous for our kind. When I was a kid…” Now her lips twisted in a mirthless smile. “I was warned never to get close to a werewolf. That you’d gobble me up.”
His jaw hardened. “Now that is one fabulous idea. I’d love to put my mouth all over you.”
Her heart was jack-hammering in her chest. Her body felt tight and hot, and her nipples pressed against her shirt-front, and they were so sensitive that she almost gasped. “Y-you haven’t had sex with a vampire before.”
She could see the desire—the lust—in his gaze. “Haven’t had that pleasure,” Griffin responded. “Yet.”
Her stare darted away from his. “Y-you don’t want to have sex with me.”
His laughter came again. “Trust me, there is nothing I want more right now.”
Those deep, sexy words pierced right to her core. Isabella could feel herself getting wet for him—with just words. Maybe she’d just gone way too long without sex. Maybe that was it. When had she been with a lover last? “I bite,” Isabella blurted. That was one of the reasons it had been forever since she’d been with a lover. She always ran the risk of killing her human partner. Sex with another vampire wasn’t an option because, in general, vamps were too damn possessive and controlling.
“So do I.”
Oh. Sweet. Hell. Her gaze collided with his once more, and, this time, Isabella couldn’t look away.
“You think I mind your bite?” Griffin shook his head. “Bite all you want, climax all you want…scream my fucking name…all you want. I can take everything you have, and I’ll just give you more in return.”
This wasn’t happening. She’d woken up and desire had hit her. Not normal. But then, she usually woke up alone, not snuggled with some werewolf. A werewolf who’d just…what? Watched her sleep? That was creepy shit. “What did you do? All the hours I was asleep, what were you doing?”
“Protecting you.”
She blinked at his response.
“It’s what I’m supposed to do now, isn’t it? Because we’re mated.” Anger came and went, flashing in his eyes. “The way it was so long ago.”
“I have no clue what you’re talking about. I get that werewolves mate.” Even vamps knew that. Werewolves mated for life. “But your kind doesn’t mate with a vamp. That’s not even possible.”
His body stiffened. “It’s more than possible. It’s the way things were done for centuries. Once upon a time, your kind only mated with werewolves.”
She pressed her back to the headboard. “No, that’s not true. Werewolves hunt vampires. They stake them—just like you tried to stake me.” As soon as she said those words, Isabella jumped from the bed. What in the hell had she been thinking? Had she actually been considering having sex with him? Was she having some kind of breakdown?
“Yes, we hunt, we fight because we’re enemies now. But we used to be your protectors.” He didn’t get out of the bed, but he did sit up. And the sheet dipped even more. He was aroused—heavily aroused. “Who do you think watched over your kind during the day? Who was perfectly designed to protect you? Thanks to some superhuman strength and senses that are ten times stronger than a mortal’s, which paranormal was the best suited for the job?”
He was wrong. “I’ve been alive for almost two hundred years. You’ve been our enemies for all that time.”
His smile flashed. “You do look good for your age.”
“A vamp can’t transform a werewolf—it’s not like your mate could bite you and turn you into—into—”
Griffin shook his head. “A werewolf can never become a vampire. Our genetics don’t let us change.”
Right. Isabella exhaled on a rough sigh as she tried to figure out this situation. “Then a vamp would have—what? Fifty years with her mate before he died? Your kind don’t live forever, your kind couldn’t—”
“When the mating bites are exchanged, the two souls link. Then the werewolf can live as long as his vampire mate.”
When the mating bites are exchanged…
She didn’t want to believe his crazy story, but as if on cue, her wrist started to throb. The wrist he’d bitten. She jerked up her hand, staring at the skin. No mark was there, but she could still feel him.
“That’s right, sweetheart. I bit you, you bit me…it’s done. I felt the mating bond set—it burned into my skin, and I know you felt it, too.”
At any moment, Isabella was sure her heart would burst out of her chest. “Why? How?”
“Because you were meant to be mine. I was meant to be yours. Fate. Destiny.” He gave her a very wolfish smile. “Doesn’t always happen, you know. That was part of the problem. At least, according to the stories I’ve been told…seems some of your kind went on a rampage a few centuries back. They wanted werewolf mates. They wanted protectors who would always watch over them, so they rounded up as many werewolves as they could find.”
She shook her head. “No.” But her voice was weak.
“They took turns biting them, making the werewolves bite vamps, too. They were looking for the mating bond. When it didn’t happen, well, it wasn’t as if they were just going to let the werewolves walk free—not when the beasts were so damn pissed—and not when they’d gotten a taste for vamp blood.”
Her eyes widened. “What do you mean?”
His green gaze slid to her throat. “That’s the thing, you see. A vamp’s blood tastes real sweet to a werewolf.” He licked his lips. “Like delicious candy.”
Oh, jeez.
“Vamp blood gives our beasts a rush of power. A surge of strength. It’s the best fucking drug in the world.”
Her attention shifted to the door. Could she get to that door before he grabbed her? She was fast but…I think he’s faster.
“So once the vamps had rounded up a mass of wolves—and they didn’t find mates in that group that they could use—the vamps decided to pump those werewolves full of silver. After all, they didn’t want some blood-lust crazed werewolves attacking them.”
“Your story makes no sense.” She inched toward the door. “If our blood drives werewolves crazy, then why aren’t you crazy right now? You had my blood—”
“And it was delicious.”
She slipped a bit closer to the door. “But you’re not attacking me, and you just said some werewolves mated with vampires, so, of course, they wouldn’t have mated if they got all blood crazy—”
“Werewolves stay in control when they are with their mates. That’s the safety link that must stay in place. But if a werewolf isn’t mated to a vampire, there is no control. There is just hunger, the savage need for power.” He laughed, and it was a bitter sound. “That’s why the mating was so d
amn dangerous—your kind wanted loyal protectors, but they knew the price they had to pay was their blood. When the bites didn’t work, they created ferocious enemies who only wanted the vamps’ blood.”
“A vicious cycle,” she whispered. Another step closer to the door. “You’re saying vamps created their own enemies?”
“The story about werewolves wanting to gobble up the vamps is true. After that first taste, there is no going back for many. Not unless you have your mate.”
And he thought she was his mate. That the magical bond had just clicked into place for them.
“You’ll never make it.”
Isabella froze.
His wolfish smile came again, and this time, she realized he had a dimple in his right cheek. “I’ll be on you before you can open the door.” He shrugged lazily. “Do you know how far I had to run last night before I caught you? Actually, I ran and had to steal another ride—and some poor bastard’s clothes. It wasn’t a fun night for me, and I don’t plan to repeat it tonight.”
Her back teeth clenched. “I’m not some defenseless human.”
“Never said you were. I just said you’ll never make it out the door.”
Asshole. She ran for the door. Her fingers shoved away the chair that had been propped beneath the door, then she reached for the broken knob and—
He grabbed her. In an instant, he’d whirled her around and pushed her against the nearest wall, trapping her with his muscled, naked body. “You don’t get it, do you, Isabella?” He’d caught her wrists and pushed them over her head, holding them there with one hard hand. “For me…you’re it.”
“Because you think we’re mated? Some magical bond?”
“Some things in this world are magic. I happen to think I’m staring at something pretty fucking magical.”
Her gaze fell to his mouth. “You don’t know me.” Her words were low and husky. “There is nothing magical or good about me. You don’t want to be near me. You don’t want me to be your mate. You just—you should get as far from me as possible.”