by Daria Wright
His hand slid into hers, and the gesture made her start in surprise, before she examined his warm, large hand in fascination. She knew how much strength that arm contained, and yet he rested his palm ever so tenderly on hers.
Isabelle's past experience with men amounted to a pitiful few excursions, and one night of humiliation and shame.
This is either the stupidest thing I can ever do, or the bravest.
Isabelle shifted his hand up to kiss him on his knuckles, heart twitching at her audacity. The golden shimmer of his eyes illuminated the space between them, and a low growl formed in his throat.
“You smell good,” he said, though his voice sounded strained. “Like summer. And maybe pineapple.”
“What?” She stared at him, and laughed. “If you say so.” She brought her nose to his arm, and inhaled deeply, trying to discern his scent.
“I don't know how to describe you. You're kind of... fruity?”
“Like a mango, I hear,” he replied, grinning.
“I see.”
The tension in the air became palpable, tight as ropes. Those pheromones were really starting to influence Isabelle's mind and body, and she gasped when he brought her hand to his chest, so she could feel his beating organ inside. His heart beat rapidly, almost as fast as a hummingbird's wings.
“You know, I have been recovering quite well,” he said. “So I recommend you leave now. Because I want to do all sorts of things to you...”
Uh oh. Isabelle's mind temporarily shut down. She warred between rationality and desire. She wanted to pace things. Go on a date.
She also wanted to go past the point of no return.
She let go of his hand, and with a heavy sigh, said, “Let's at least get one date out of the way first.”
Disappointment flashed in his eyes, though he gathered himself together fast. “Of course. We might be rushing things otherwise.”
I feel like I'm already regretting this decision, Isabelle thought sourly to herself.
Chapter Five
The door slammed behind. Milev followed Isabelle to the bed, where they proceeded to engage in a lively wrestling match on the covers.
One date later, and they had already both reached breaking point. Isabelle knew she needed to go home at one point, to let everyone discover that she lived, along with the inevitable questions that would pop up. She first wanted to enjoy every moment she had gained with Milev.
Going to the restaurant had been so awkward, because they spent most of the time staring at one another, making excuses to touch one another's bodies, and it took every ounce of control for her to not just ravage him in the restaurant, right in front of everyone.
“I'm glad we waited,” he panted against her neck, in the middle of removing her bra and then working on her lower half. “Though I admit I might have been a little sad... to not have you earlier.”
“Oh, I was kicking myself,” Isabelle assured him. He sniffed her blonde, vibrant hair, running his hands over her soft, pale skin, golden eyes hazed in lust. Once those kind of eyes terrified her, revealing the person she saw with them as a werewolf, a beast. Now she loved the shine, the way they dedicated themselves to her, and she kissed each eyelid, before descending to his lips and grasping them long and hard, tugging the flesh slightly away from his teeth.
Milev helped her out of the last of her clothing, and pushed off his clothing as well, kissing her during short pauses, wanting to keep the close contact, to feel her against him.
Jolts of arousal crackled between them, supercharging the atmosphere. The sheets scratched over their naked bodies as they rolled, her briefly on top of him, then Milev taking back control, now sucking at her neck, leaving a sore, delicious feeling there that would well into love bites later.
His erection brushed against her lower entrance, slipping in the juices that had accumulated there, though he chose to tease her, enjoying her gasps and her glares of annoyance.
Eventually, she couldn't stand it anymore and grabbed his hardness, steering it inside her with a sigh of relief. He moved in deep, groaning at the sensation, the sound thrilling her. Her cheeks burned, her body trembled in lust, and she encouraged him on with cries of pleasure. The air filled with the aroma of their combined arousals, of his addictive scent that stirred a frenzy in her brain, and made her scream out as he sped up his thrusts. She loved it when he used force, bumping his hips into hers, as each jolt of impact sent a small wave of ecstasy through her.
They spent a good thirty minutes rousing each other to orgasm, with him coming first, and then fingering her to a roaring one of her own. They flopped in bed, not quite exhausted, but content, and spent a few quiet moments surveying one another.
That silence was quite the achievement, given Milev's garrulous nature.
He really is handsome, Isabelle thought, reflecting upon his face, his rock-hard body, and that little curl of his lips denoting deep satisfaction. Isabelle ached in all the right places.
Her heartbeat calmed down enough for her to just smile languidly at him. “Less than a month ago, I probably would have killed you on the spot.”
He blinked in slight confusion, though the smile widened. “Funny what a few hours stuck in a cellar with someone can do, right?”
“More than I could have ever imagined,” Isabelle replied, her voice soft. The truth needled into her. How did he affect her so profoundly? How had he punched through that mantle of rage so fast?
It was like she had been waiting for him her entire life. Of course, when she finally met someone who struck those chords in her heart, he had to go and get himself almost killed by doing that dumb, heroic dive in front of a spray of bullets.
Even then, she might have shot him in her fear.
She had so much rage bottled inside. It wouldn't go away just because of the rewarding attentions of Milev Spirova. She had people who would be missing her elsewhere, hunters curious about her fate, in case she had somehow survived.
She'd have to face the people who abandoned her as well. That notion didn't exactly light the fires of her heart.
“I feel like I've been dropped in some weird, alternate reality. I can't... part of me doesn't understand how I can go from doing what I did, to being here with you. And that werewolf, the one who wanted revenge – sometimes I think about him, too.”
“You did what you thought was right at the time,” Milev said. “Hunters do tend to harbor undying resentment for werewolves. But you seemed to accept me quickly, without as much resistance as I might have expected from your type of people.”
Isabelle shrugged. Her thoughts considered George, now dead with the family she had slain. They encompassed Milev, and the whole confused ideology that animated her, once upon a time. “I suspect it's something to do with you.”
“Because I'm magic, right?” His smile was gentle, teasing, and he cradled her in his arms, tugging the bedsheets over to protect from the night chills. His warmth bathed her, securing her in his company.
Maybe it really was just to do with Milev himself.
I actually fucking fell down hard with this idiot. I've doomed myself. She grinned, however, and burrowed into his embrace. “Does it bother you I'm a hunter, Milev?”
“Does it bother you I'm a werewolf?” he countered. She shook her head, nose brushing his chest.
“No. Not as much as I thought it would. And it's confusing me. A lot.”
“That might be a good sign.” He nuzzled her hair. “And no. It doesn't bother me. It might if you point a gun at me, though.”
“I'll try my best not to do that, then.” Isabelle let out another sigh. “Thank you for saving me. I don't think I ever thanked you properly.”
“I'd say you already have,” he smirked, prompting her to give him a light tap of the cheek. He sobered up, and held her face in his palms. “Seriously, though. There's something about you that speaks to me somewhere. Like having you around just, clicks.”
“Same,” Isabelle eventually managed, her heart pal
pitating faster at the announcement.
Something about Milev indeed just clicked for her.
She still had a long way to go. She still needed to find a place for all her thoughts, but part of her worries could be laid to rest at Milev's feet. The werewolf illuminated the dark, sordid parts of her mangled soul, letting her breathe freely, without stress or panic or hatred for the first time.
Wherever she went next in her life, where the carousel of her thoughts and emotions took her, she knew she wanted to share the ride with Milev.
Maybe then, staying with someone with a light heart, boundless affection and a fresh perspective on life would finally lay her demons to rest.
He added laughter to her soul that had never been there, formerly sucked dry by years of anger.
He was the smile she was missing.
The love she needed.
The truth she never saw.
She fell into a dreamless, content sleep, safe in his arms, and in the knowledge of a brighter, positive future.
The End
The Preacher’s Daughter’s Secret
By: Elaine Young
CHAPTER ONE:
Jake Owenson was crossing across Central Park on his way home when he saw Rosalie Mitchell standing in the corner of Fifth and 86th happily munching away on a hotdog. He did a double take and skidded to a stop.
Was it? He asked himself. Could it be? He couldn’t believe his eyes and had to blink twice to make sure he wasn’t imagining things; after all, it had been more than six years since he had last laid eyes on the then twelve-year-old girl. He remembered a round, chubby face that always seemed to be smiling, mischief-filled blue eyes, and two thick golden, blond braids hanging over her shoulders. And before him stood a young woman on the cusp of womanhood. She was beautiful with her blond hair flowing in loose waves down her back, with a long, flowery dress that accentuated her shapely and graceful figure. He couldn’t be sure it was her, but he took a stab at it anyways.
“Rosalie?”
The slender girl turned at the sound of her name and searched the faces nearby to locate the voice. Her eyes skimmed over him – they were still the blue he remembered, but she obviously hadn’t recognized him. He took a few steps in her direction and called out to her again.
“Rosalie, it’s me, Jake.”
Her eyes snapped back towards him and recognition dawned on her face. She did a little two-step of excitement and clasped her hands together in delight.
“Jake! Jake Owenson! How long has it been!”
“Long enough that you didn’t recognize me!” he teased.
“How could I when you’ve grown up so much! You are positively handsome now,” she teased him right back, thinking of the lanky, awkward boy of six years ago. There was definitely nothing awkward about him now. The boyish features had filled out into a handsome face and the lanky frame looked solid and athletic. His floppy brown hair was groomed into a close cut which accentuated the straight nose and the strong jaw. Even his walk was different, she noted – it was cool and confidant.
He blushed a little at the compliment, thinking how very grown up she had become. The girl he remembered had been rebellious and outspoken; some things had obviously remained unchanged.
“What are you doing in the city?”
“Enjoying some freedom! I’m here for Rumspringa,” she explained.
“Oh,” Jake said, a dark cloud briefly shadowed on his face as he recalled his Rumspringa and his subsequent banishment from the community when he had decided he didn’t want to commit to the Amish faith.
“Did you come with a lot of people?”
“Nope, just on my own. But father doesn’t know that. He thinks Janice Greely, Isabelle Hendrix and I came together. Which we did, but we’re all doing our thing, and I haven’t seen them since getting here.”
“Still being rebellious, huh.”
“You know me,” she said lightly.
“So are you enjoying your trip so far?”
“I’m loving the trip! I think I might be falling in love with New York,” she gushed.
“That’s how I felt when I came here. And I never looked back.”
“Well I can see how that would happen.” She looked at her watch and looked at him. “Anyways, I won’t keep you much longer, I’m sure you were headed somewhere….”
Jake was about to say that yes, he was on his way to a meeting, when he experienced an odd stirring within him. Gazing straight into her clear blue, sparkling eyes, he realized the emotion he was experiencing was attraction. And not just a passing attraction or appreciation for a good-looking woman, but a very physical longing to stay in her company, a reluctance to not let her go just yet. He realized he felt intrigued by her and wanted to spend more time with her. In fact, he wanted to ask her out, which wouldn’t be smart at all because she wasn’t a girl to trifled with, and he couldn’t offer her anything more because he was no longer a part of her world. Telling himself he must be logical, he prepared himself to say goodbye and to tell her it had been lovely seeing her, but he found himself asking her if she had any plans for the evening instead. As she happily told him her evening was wide open, he told himself it was just one dinner – how much harm could it really do?
CHAPTER TWO:
He was on top of her. Kissing every inch of her body. Well familiar with the touch of his skillful hands, Rosalie closed her eyes, anticipating his next move, aching to be consumed by his love. But just as things started to heat up her stomach rolled over and a wave of nausea startled Rosalie out of her sleep and broke through her dream. Her eyes snapped open and she realized with a whoosh of intense disappointment that it had all been nothing but a dream. She sat up straight and waited for the nausea to subside, but it didn’t and had her running for the bathroom. Once she was done she washed her face with cold water and buried her face in the towel waiting for the queasy feeling in her stomach to subside.
This was the fifth night in a row she was waking up nauseous and sick. She could only conclude that she was so lovesick it was having a physical effect on her. Memories of the time she had spent with Jake in New York were crowding into her dreams now; she thought of him all day and all night…couldn’t help it…would she ever be free of him? It wasn’t very likely given everything that had transpired between them from the moment they had run into each other a few months ago. As she stepped out in to the hallway, the door across from her bedroom opened and Amanda’s concerned face peeked out.
“Rosalie?” Her sister’s voice was groggy from sleep. “Are you okay?”
“Yes, everything’s fine,” Rosalie assured her, “Go back to sleep.”
Amanda stifled a yawn and nodded.
“Okay – if you’re sure.”
Rosalie made her way back into bed and muffled her groans of frustration into her pillow. Why couldn’t she stop thinking about him? From the moment she had run into him by Central Park, her entire trip had quickly become centered around him. After that first dinner together they had become virtually inseparable. Things between them had moved at a shockingly fast pace. Part of it was timing constraints, since both Jake and Rosalie knew they wouldn’t have much time together, they didn’t bother wasting any by playing games. But part of it was they had clicked instantly. And the physical attraction was undeniable.
She remembered their first kiss… It had happened after two weeks of seeing each other almost every day. They were watching the skaters at Rockfeller Center when she had turned to him and asked him bluntly why he had made no attempts to kiss her or touch her at all.
“Don’t you find me attractive?”
Jake had been flabbergasted by the question.
“Of course I do,” he replied.
“Then why haven’t you kissed me yet?”
“Because… because Rosalie, you are so innocent and so pure, I can’t do that to you, especially when I can’t offer you anything more than whatever this is.”
“Who said anything about offering me more?” s
he had challenged. “I’m here because I want to be here. I’m old enough to know what I want and I know I want you. I don’t want to be pure and innocent with you.”
But Jake didn’t look convinced.
“I can’t Rosalie; if I kiss you, I’ll be crossing a line and I don’t know where that line will end. I respect you too much to hurt you in any way.”
She had smiled at him mischievously, flattered he found her so irresistible. She could tell from the stubborn set of his jaw he meant what he said. He wouldn’t stop being respectful and he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. So she decided to take matters into her own hand. Without breaking eye contact, she stepped closer towards him until their bodies were almost touching. She leaned her head towards him, her lips brushing against his ear and whispered,
“Don’t you think it would be fun to find out where that line ends?” And then she kissed him.
CHAPTER THREE:
Amanda twisted her hands together; she did that whenever she was especially nervous. It was a childhood habit.
“Rosalie, have you been feeling alright?”
Puzzled by the question Rosalie shrugged her shoulders, “Yes of course. Why do you ask?”
“Are you coming down with a flu or something?”
“No, I’m completely fine.”
“Well I’ve been hearing you up throwing up the last few nights…”
“Oh.” A flush of color flooded Rosalie’s cheeks as she remembered her very explicit dreams about Jake.
“I’m sure it’s just a stomach thing or something I ate that didn’t sit well with me.”
“And you haven’t been feeling anything else? A little more tired than usual or sleepy?”
That made Rosalie pause – now that she was thought about it she had been feeling extremely tired these past few weeks too. No matter how well she slept the night before, by midmorning she felt like all the energy had been sapped out of her.
The look on Rosalie’s face was enough to answer Amanda’s question. She checked to make sure the bedroom door was still closed and listened for the sound of any footsteps in the hallway. Satisfied there was nobody outside their door she dropped her voice to whisper and asked bluntly,