by Leia Shaw
She inhaled a deep breath then slowly released it. “My mate is a werewolf.”
His brows darted up but he didn’t look that surprised.
“His name is Eli. We were together for ten years in the late eighteen hundreds. We lived with a pack in the Appalachians. They were wary of me at first, but they recognized the mating signals and accepted me. At least I thought they did.” She kept her gaze on the table. “Some of them I considered my friends.
“Anyway, I hadn’t spent time with vampires before so when I stumbled upon Julian, a wandering vamp I’d run into, I wanted to learn everything I could about them.”
He flinched back. “You mean you’d never met another vampire?”
She shrugged. “Here and there. But I didn’t pay attention to them. I didn’t ask questions or learn from them.”
At his confused expression, she explained. “The first night of my change, I was so scared and confused. I turned to the only person I trusted. But when Marcelo looked at me like I was….a monster…it tore me apart.” Did her voice just waver? She shook her head. “Anyway, I hated myself. I hated what I’d become. I didn’t want anything to do with my kind.
“But Eli…” she stared down at her hands, “he was so comforting at first. He didn’t care that I needed blood to live or could only go out at night. He said he loved me no matter what I was.” Of course, all the warning signs had been there. She recognized them now. Little bursts of temper with flowery apologies after.
“So what happened?” Cristian prompted.
“He had a jealous streak. When he found out I was spending time with another man, and a vampire no less, he just…lost it.” She sat back in her chair, clutching one of the throwing knives Cristian had given her then twirling it in her fingers. For some reason, the habit calmed her.
Cristian’s gaze dropped to her hands then lifted back to her face. “And he hurt you?”
She nodded. “That was before I was the fighter I am today.” Her hand tightened around the knife handle. “He was bigger and stronger and beat me within inches of my life. Then he left me to die.”
Cristian’s eyes filled with compassion, his mouth twisted into a frown. She flicked her gaze away, staring out the window as she continued. “His pack knew I was there, dying in agony. Eli made sure to leave me inside their territory where no one could help me. Even Julian didn’t dare intervene. His pack just watched me die.” She exhaled a humorless laugh. “I begged. I pleaded for someone to at least take me out of the sun.”
“But…” his brows furrowed, “you can’t die from injuries or even prolonged sun exposure.”
She lifted her gaze to his. “I can from fire.”
He stared at her for a moment then his eyes widened as her words sunk in. Lips tightened, he clenched his fists and cursed under his breath.
She spun the knife again. “I was pathetic. Screaming, begging for mercy. I’ll never let myself be in that position again.” She fisted her hand around the knife and slammed the point into the table.
He looked from the knife standing on end then back to Natalia. “You weren’t pathetic. You wanted to live.”
Yes, though I don’t know why. “I wanted it too badly.”
He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as wanting to live too badly. You either do or you don’t. If you’re thinking too hard about the consequences of what you do to survive, you might as well lie down and take what life gives you. And I’ll tell you one thing…life’s a son-of-a-bitch.” He sat upright in his seat and pulled the knife out of the table. “You’re a fighter, Natalia. You’ll never lay down and die.” He tossed her the knife, which she caught easily.
She’d been innocent back then. Eli was her first romantic relationship since losing her humanity. It had been all about the sex at first. And he was damn good at it. Charming, seductive, and with the chemical mating bond shared between them, she didn’t stand a chance resisting him. Happiness could be built on a mutual attraction, she’d thought. After all, the gods had made them mates for a reason.
Her perspective on life had changed since then. Screw the gods. Screw the universe. Natalia chose her fate and no one else. Touching death had done something irrevocable inside her.
It hadn’t been her first encounter with death. She thought back on that night in the lonely woods more than eight-hundred-years ago. A vampire had attacked, biting fiercely into her flesh. She’d thought the night creatures were a myth superstitious peasants made up to keep their children away from the forest. And though she’d managed to grasp a stick to defend herself, one vicious strike from the vampire’s claw was all it took and the world went dark. When she awoke, she’d been reborn.
But what Eli had done to her was different. Being beaten with cruelty didn’t just injure a person physically, but took a piece of their soul. Eli had opened Pandora’s box. It was kill or be killed now. No hesitation. No mercy. No remorse.
“How did you survive?”
“A witch braved the pack and took me to her home. She helped me heal.” But that kind of magic came at a price.
“What price did you have to pay?”
She smiled. So he knew about witches? “In exchange for saving my life, giving me an immunity to silver, and the ability to manipulate metal, I hunt rogues for her. As long as I hunt werewolves, I keep my gifts.”
“Witches are mortal. Isn’t she dead?”
“The contract stayed in her bloodline. I work for her great-great-granddaughter, Moira, now.”
His brows shot up. “You work for a witch? The shadiest type of supernaturals?”
“We operate on a mutual distrust.” And dislike.
“So she gives you kill orders and you fulfill them?”
She nodded. “But usually the orders come from the sorcerers. The Amcott’s have had an alliance with the sorcerers for as long as I can remember. Most of the werewolves I hunt have defected from the sorcerer’s employment. Or in the case of the Slayer, they want credit for having him killed. It makes them look better I guess.” Supernatural politics made her want to strangle people. She’d told Cristian the werewolves that worked for the sorcerers had no self-respect. But, in a way, she worked for them as well. It gave her some comfort to know they were terrified of her. For the most part, they left her alone. Just the way she liked it.
Cristian leaned in and narrowed his eyes. “You have no problem hunting us down, do you, Natalia? You hate us anyway, because of your mate.”
A twinge of guilt tightened her chest but she pushed it away. “Yes. At first it felt good. My own form of revenge on the pack that betrayed me. But after the first few decades, the high wore off. Now I’m just after one thing.”
“Let me guess,” he said dryly. “Eli?”
She shrugged. “Sounds like a bad movie, doesn’t it?”
“It’s a bit predictable. But I’m going to let you in on a little secret. Revenge isn’t what you think it will be.” He leaned back and crossed his arms over his chest. “A man who studieth revenge, keeps his wounds green.”
“Another fortune cookie?”
He shook his head. “Francis Bacon, a philosopher. He also said, ‘if we do not maintain justice, justice will not maintain us.’”
“Sounds like a contradiction to his first statement.”
“No, Natalia. Justice is not the same as revenge. Revenge is an expression of anger. It’s purely for the offended. And it won’t heal the wounds of your betrayal.”
Half-heartedly, she asked, “Then what will?”
He sat upright and leaned toward her, his gaze so intense her breath hitched in the back of her throat. His eyes told a story of loss and pain. After a moment, he whispered, “Forgiveness.”
Chapter 13
Cristian regretted the Chinese food as his stomach churned. Almost three in the morning in Montana and the half-moon lit the open plain, reflecting off the nearby lake. Normally, he would’ve stopped to appreciate its beauty. But the odor of evil had turned it into an ugly night.
Natalia studied the body of a teenage girl several yards behind him. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old. A mere child. He looked up into the starry sky. After a strict upbringing in Orthodox Christianity, he finally begged the question, was there a God?
“La tot ceea ce există este un scop,” his mother used to say. “To everything there is a purpose.”
He turned toward the girl’s body, her hot pink shirt out of place in the dark wilderness. Maybe his faith was lacking, but he just couldn’t see a higher purpose in this.
They’d called the police, who would likely check her for sexual assault, something he was better off not knowing. The bloody mess the Slayer left behind was bad enough.
Natalia hadn’t made a sound since they’d found the girl. As soon as they’d crossed the Montana border the Slayer’s scent had hit them like a freight train. They’d sprinted through the trees, running for a full two miles as the scent grew stronger. Natalia had pushed past him, hunger for the Slayer’s blood driving her. But it wasn’t the Slayer they found. Only his latest victim. And if that wasn’t disturbing enough, a strip of Natalia’s shirt had been tied around the girl’s wrist.
The Slayer was taunting them. Anger mixed with grief and he swallowed back a howl.
He walked to Natalia’s side and forced himself to look at the young body. “Sufletul la vânt, deşi inimile mii plânge. Pace tine, se va găsi, în braţele tatălui tău milostiv.”
He made a cross motion with his hand as he whispered the prayer. He caught Natalia’s curious gaze and interpreted. “Soul to the wind though our hearts weep. Peace thee shall find in the arms of thy merciful father.”
He studied her reaction. She nodded but her eyes were distant. Cold. Worry for her filled his heart, already aching with the girl’s needless death. He placed a hand on Natalia’s shoulder.
She shrugged it off. “Police will be here soon. We better go.”
Her gruff response didn’t fool him. Natalia was as affected as he was. She just had more practice at hiding it. He gave her space as they trudged back to where they’d left the jeep. They drove in silence, continuing their journey north. Cristian made the decision to stop in a larger town and pay the extra rate for a nice hotel room. A hot shower and down comforter sounded perfect. They needed comfort. They needed to believe in goodness again.
“I’m going to take a shower,” Natalia said when they’d entered their room for the day. She brushed by him and shut the bathroom door.
His skin crawled and he had the same urge to wash the feeling of disgust away. The sight of the gruesome crime ate at his mind like a disease. He wasn’t sheltered. He’d hurt men, he’d killed them. But never a child. He couldn’t fathom destroying the innocence of one so young. Werewolves were family creatures. Children were treasured and loved. It went against every natural instinct to harm one so vulnerable. The Slayer deserved worse than death.
He paced the length of the room, unsettled. Maybe he should shift and go for a run. No, he couldn’t leave Natalia here to face the memory alone. The sound of the shower reminded him of what was behind that door. Another body. Warmth. Comfort. He needed it. And as much as Natalia wanted to deny it, she did too.
He opened the bathroom door and flower-scented steam hit him. The fragrance poured into his body in a calming wave. Natalia’s naked silhouette, graceful and lithe, behind the frosted glass door made him instantly hard. But he wasn’t there for sex. He just needed to touch her.
After waiting a moment to see if she would demand he leave, he stripped off his shirt and pants and walked toward the door. Natalia opened it, revealing a glorious body that made his breath hitch in the back of his throat. Her eyes, swirling with torment and confusion, silently gave him permission to enter.
***
Natalia’s mind was a jumbled mess when she welcomed a naked Cristian into the shower. Her muscles twitched in agitation. In her long life she’d witnessed genocide, plague, war, famine, and slavery. In the last century and a half, she hadn’t felt a thing for the victims. But now…
Now it felt like something cold and evil had crawled under her skin and the scalding heat of the shower and all the flowery soap she could find wouldn’t wash it away.
Then Cristian stepped inside, radiating masculine energy. Comfort. Warmth. His body invaded her space. Sun-kissed skin covered in a layer of light blonde fuzz, muscles flexed and extended with sinewy grace. He was beautiful.
Unsure of what to do, she stood still, her arms hanging limply at her sides. For the first time she could remember, she didn’t want to be alone.
Cristian’s gaze never left hers as he crowded her, his body towering over her smaller one. His eyes were intense and drank in her naked form. But it was more than lust. Some spark…a connection she’d never felt before.
With his eyes, he said, “I see your pain…and feel it, too.”
No longer could she hide from him. She felt stripped emotionally. Raw. Almost violated. How could such a thing both terrify and comfort her at the same time? Staring wide-eyed and feeling ridiculous, she swallowed hard as he touched his fingertips to her cheek. They trailed down her neck where he paused to rub his thumb across her pulse – which pounded so hard it almost leapt out of her skin. His hands continued their path downward, across her shoulders then lightly down her arms. Every cell awakened at his touch, tingling like electricity. A thumping sound reverberated in her ears and she almost didn’t recognize her own heartbeat.
His calloused hands stroked down her back, pulling her against him. She hesitated at first then accepted his embrace with a surrendering sigh. Warmth filled her as his heartbeat, matching hers, pounded under her cheek.
She nuzzled her face into his chest while he rubbed his hands down her back, following the stream of water. He exhaled a tired breath and rested his chin on her head. Her muscles, previously tense with stress, softened under his caress.
She was melting. For him.
With each deep breath, her inhibitions drifted away. All she wanted to do was forget. Everything. Marcelo, Eli, the Slayer, the child in –
She gulped and choked back emotions that surfaced. A large palm cupped her face, holding her against his chest. Her eyes drifted shut. She was glad the woodsy smell that was Cristian didn’t dissipate in the steamy shower. It enveloped her, caressing her soul like his fingers were her skin.
His other hand moved lower, stroking over her ass. A flood of warmth rushed to her core. Lust slammed into her hard as he kneaded one cheek then the other. When he pulled back to meet her gaze, she studied his face. Full lips, proud chin, eyes sparkling with compassion and desire. They pushed through her barriers like fangs through flesh.
Her mouth hung open as she struggled for something to say, but he cut her off with a kiss. Softly, he seduced her, coaxing her mouth open with his tongue. Though he was gentle, there was no mistaking his kiss as anything less than a claiming of her body. The way he leaned over her caused her back to arch and her breasts to press against his chest. He was possessive in every way. He’d steal her heart if she wasn’t careful.
But right now, she didn’t feel like being careful. So she kissed him back, claiming him just as possessively. Her belly fluttered when one of his hands grasped her breast. He rolled her nipple between his fingers and a shot of pleasure ran straight to her clit. She groaned and rocked against him, instinct driving her now.
He pulled away from her mouth and cupped her face with both hands. “Natalia.” After several small kisses on her nose and lips, he whispered, “Esti de rupere inima mea.”
She had no idea what the words meant, only that they sounded unbearably tender coming from his lips. And that should scare her.
But when his hands found their way between her legs, all caution flew to the wind. She gasped then leaned into his touch. His lips skated across her jaw and down her neck, leaving a trail of tingly warmth. As he parted her flesh and flicked her clit with a finger, her knees wobbled and she almost collapsed on the floor.
But he caught her, and with both hands under her ass, he lifted her, pressing her back against the wall. She wrapped her legs around his waist and he slid home.
She cried out at the fullness of him. It hit every one of her pleasure spots and she clenched her legs around him. His head fell into her neck where his goatee tickled her skin. He kissed and nipped at her neck and ear, sending waves of pleasure vibrating through her. She squirmed against him but he remained still.
When he lifted his head and caught her gaze, he kept it captive as he thrust in and out slowly. The water ran cold, cooling down their passionate heat. But still, Natalia burned for him. She bucked against his muscled body, longing for something faster, harder, but he didn’t give in. He kept a steady, relentless pace that built her climax higher and higher until she couldn’t take it anymore.
One more hard thrust and she broke into pieces, her orgasm shattering her from the inside out. Cristian dropped his forehead onto hers as he panted and spilled into her. They remained against the shower wall, him inside her, as cold water sent chills down her body.
He kissed her once more then pulled out, setting her down gently on her feet. “You’re freezing,” he said, eyeing the goose bumps covering her skin.
She couldn’t find her voice.
“Come on. Let’s get you warm.” He shut off the water and stepped out the shower.
Unready to process the implications of what they’d just done, she stared at his back while he acquired two towels from the other side of the bathroom. Such a masculine back, muscles rippled under his glowing skin. And his ass. His ass was worthy of a –
Oh gods! What had she done?
When he came back and stood in front of her, she crossed her arms over her breasts like a shield.
He sighed. “No sense getting weird about things now.” Pushing her hands out of the way, he wrapped the towel around her body.
She gasped when he scooped her into his arms. “Put me down. I’m not a child.” She struggled in his arms but he held tight.