by Selena Blake
So this was what it felt like. Desire. Passion. Chemistry.
If this wasn’t chemistry, she couldn’t imagine what that would feel like. He felt perfect against her. She followed his lead, letting her tongue touch his. By the sound of his groan and the way his fingers tightened around her neck ever so slightly, she got the impression that she was doing something right.
The perfectionist in her made her whisper, “How am I doing?”
She wanted to snatch the words back immediately. Now was not the time for such questions, but he simply laughed and wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close.
“Too good,” he murmured into her hair. “We need to take a walk.”
Hearing the change in his voice, the restraint, she licked her lips and stepped back. He groaned and pulled her back against him, chest against chest, thighs brushing. His cock nestled between them, and he kissed her quickly. Just a peck. A quick brush across the lips, as if he couldn’t help himself.
Then he stepped to the side, chest rising with a deep breath, and slid an arm around her waist. She liked that. The feel of him next to her, around her, shielding her. She’d never felt connected to anyone in this way.
They made their way across the deck, hips brushing the whole way, to the elevator. On the ground level, he led her to the beach. To the north, the volleyball game was still going strong. The bonfires continued to blaze, lighting their way to the south, showering the sand with extra heat.
Coco had been right. Solstice was a time for new beginnings. For healing. Starting over. Starting fresh. Coco had found love. Accepted it. Embraced it.
Why was she, Ceara Blackwell, so scared to embrace new experiences? All the things her parents had said to keep her safely in her cocoon were turning out to be wrong. Every day another myth was shattered. And tonight, tonight she’d met a man who heated her from the inside out. Wanted her, silly clothes and all.
There was still much for her to learn. But she’d start by following his lead.
Halfway down the beach, his steps slowed to a stop. She sent him a questioning look. He gave her a smile that made her knees soft. He dropped her hand, surveyed the sand, and then sank to his knees.
“What are you --”
“Building a sandcastle. Want to help?”
And just like that, Ceara fell a little bit deeper.
Chapter Four
Maxim sat back, brushing the sand from his hands and admired their handiwork. A small castle towered above the surrounding sand, little pillars at the corners.
“Evidently sandcastle building is a competitive sport. I saw a show about it. They make massive designs…” She held her arms open wide. Maxim felt the beginning of a grin. “The sand is very important,” she was saying. Something about texture and moisture content. He had a hard time focusing on her words when he couldn’t tear his focus from her lips.
She seemed to know a little about everything, which he appreciated. She certainly knew how to kiss. Which was why he couldn’t stop looking at her lips.
“There. It is finished.”
The woman on the other side of the structure beamed at him. “Wait…” She placed a twig in the center spiral. “A flagpole for our castle,” she said, her French accent thick.
He couldn’t believe something so simple could make her so happy. But he understood all too well the feeling of being imprisoned. Held against your will. Waiting to take a breath, ready, oh so ready to start your life and move forward. Toward your future. The future you only dreamed of.
And hers consisted of a to-do list like he’d never seen before.
“It won’t win any contests, but that was fun.” She brushed the sand from her hands and sat back on her heels. The position drew his attention to her curves.
It was too bad he’d be returning home on Monday, away from this magical island. Far away from her. He sighed. Which was why he should probably start backing off right now. And focus on something other than her curves. “That sounds like a lot of hard work for something that will be destroyed by wind and water.”
Her smile dimmed immediately and he felt like an ass.
“You’re right.”
“But then art is a worthy cause, no matter how long it lasts.” The words sounded good. He didn’t particularly buy into art. Didn’t really have time for it and had never made time for it. But that didn’t mean he didn’t see the value in creativity.
A small smile creased her cheeks. “Like music.”
“Music?” He didn’t follow.
“It’s like when I play my violin. I get lost in the music for a few minutes. Or even a few hours. But when I’m done playing, it’s over.”
The passion in her voice warmed him from the inside out. What else was she as passionate about? No. Don’t go there. Contemplating such things would only torture him later. And possibly hurt her in the long run.
“I should walk you to your door,” he said, standing. He held his hand out to her, and she slipped her palm against his, so trusting.
Ceara enjoyed the way he moved her, strong hand at her back, directing her so easily. Warming her skin.
She didn’t want the night to be over. In fact, her heart ached at the thought of going back to her room, lukewarm compared to him, her sheets cold. Avery in the next bed. But she nodded. He’d given her an amazing night. A truly amazing night filled with memories.
“I understand.”
It took everything in her to say those two little words. In reality, she did not understand. Wasn’t a man supposed to be so overcome with passion that he couldn’t control himself? More importantly… was that what she wanted?
Yes. Her nerve endings screamed a little louder, yes, yes, yes!
He stopped, the hand at her back, angling her toward him. “Do you?”
When she didn’t meet his gaze, he tipped her chin up with a single press of a finger.
No! No I don’t understand. Anything. Why your eyes are so beautiful that I get lost in them. Why it seems like I’ve heard your voice in my dreams, known you for years rather than minutes. I don’t understand the need running through me, the desire that’s so overwhelming that I’ve given up the urge to fight it. I don’t understand why my body is on edge, waiting for your touch. Why every second in your presence makes me anticipate your kiss.
He regarded her so slowly, so thoroughly that she started to worry that he’d been reading her thoughts. But his gaze skipped to her lips again. “Do you understand just how badly I want to throw you over my shoulder and carry you off somewhere? Do you understand why I shouldn’t do it? You are a grain of sand in the hourglass of your life and you deserve a man who can offer you—”
He cut off abruptly, shaking his head, then focused on the ocean.
“What are you offering?”
“That’s just it, beautiful. I can’t offer you anything more than a hard fuck.”
She licked her lips, eyes smarting. Too good to be true. She should have known. She’d gotten swept away in the moment, in the idea that she could have a happy ending like Coco and Grayson. That she could have a werewolf to call her own.
“A one-night stand,” she said, amazed that her voice sounded as steady as it did. The concept was not foreign to her. Avery had engaged in several one-night stands, claiming that sometimes she just had an itch that needed scratching. Whatever that meant.
“You deserve better.”
That made her laugh. They’d known each other for an hour and a handful of minutes. “How do you know?”
He stared at her for a long time. Thoroughly. She got the impression that nothing got by him. What did he do? What had he seen in his life? It was obvious that he was much older, much more worldly. Somehow that didn’t seem like such a gaping chasm between them.
“I just do.”
“As it happens, I’m leaving here in three days.”
She didn’t know what she’d expected. Maybe for him to smile and whisk her away. Something. Anything but the frown that deepened.
&
nbsp; “Come on. I will walk you to your room.” His accent deepened.
He held out his hand to her. She stared down at it, seeing every crease on his palm. So this was it. One life-altering, soul-awakening kiss and it was over? Wasn’t this a sex resort? She’d come along for the ride, not planning to meet anyone special. But she had. And he’d ignited a yearning inside her. Made her want things… hot things she’d never wanted before. His touch put images in her mind. Beach sex. Kisses beneath a waterfall. Nights basking naked beneath the stars.
Sighing, she placed her hand in his. “I’m actually in one of the cottages.” She pointed quickly before dropping her hand to her side.
“You never did tell me why you hate demons,” he said after a lengthy pause. Maybe he was just trying to make small talk.
The reason wasn’t a secret. And it definitely cooled her desire, so she pulled the memory to the front and said, “A demon murdered my parents seven months ago.”
He halted and faced her, his gaze searching hers in the darkness. “That’s awful,” he whispered.
She blinked back the tears threatening to fall.
“I’m sorry I brought it up.”
“It’s all right. You didn’t know.” She offered him a watery smile. “I’m not crying for my parents. Not really. They’d reared me, but their form of love was suffocating. They told me things to keep me scared. Compliant.”
As if he couldn’t help himself, he pulled her against him and wrapped his arms around her. Strong, solid, and warm.
“I guess I am crying for me. For relief. So much of what they told me is false. And it took their death to set me free.”
“I can understand that.” He rubbed his hands up and down her back, soothing her in a way no other hug ever had. “Did they find the bastard?”
“No. He was a drifter. My parents’ property has a cottage on it. He wanted to rent it, but they preferred… women. Couples.”
“Not single men snooping around their daughter.”
She nodded. “They tried to hide me away from the world.”
He stepped back and reached for her hand. “Then they definitely wouldn’t approve of me.” He didn’t sound the least bit insulted.
“But I approve of you.” They were almost to the cottage and she thought about refusing to tell him which one was hers so that he couldn’t drop her off. “That’s what matters,” she whispered. “We’re here.”
He led the way onto the deck and escorted her around to the front door. She liked the way he moved, an easy, loose gait that spoke of the predator he was underneath. She adored the feel of his hand at her lower back. Familiar. Proprietary.
“Ceara…”
“Don’t worry, Maxim. I may be young and inexperienced, but I understand the game.” Not that she’d ever played it. But the words sounded good, confident. And it was true. She’d studied so many aspects of humanity. And more recently, watched how her covenmates dated and interacted with the opposite sex.
He made a sound of disbelief. Somewhere between a grunt and a sigh.
Why did being with him make the shyness fade away? Before tonight she couldn’t have imagined standing on her doorstep, having such an easy conversation with a man this gorgeous. Feeling… at ease. She frowned, realizing she’d never felt like this before. The ease. The complete lack of fear that she was doing something wrong. That her parents would disapprove.
Twin sconces hung on either side of the door, casting the two of them in a soft yellow light. For the first time in her twenty-one years, she felt as if she were emerging from the darkness. Spreading her wings. There was no one hovering over her, questioning her choice of attire, music, companionship.
She liked it. Liked him. Was thankful she’d met him. So very thankful.
“Do me a favor,” she said while she had the courage.
“Anything.”
“Kiss me goodnight?”
He made that sound again. She liked it too.
“That’s hardly a favor.” He dropped her hand and cupped her face. “Goodnight, my beautiful vamp.”
This time she closed her eyes so he wouldn’t see the tears there. This time, he kissed her with such exquisite mastery, restrained and filled with goodbye that she balled her fists against his chest.
How dare he awaken her true nature and leave her unfulfilled.
But that’s exactly what he was doing. After breaking the kiss, he took a half step back.
“Go inside while I can still let you.”
Chapter Five
Ceara watched Maxim disappear down the beach, memorizing his easy swagger. How had she, little Miss Quiet, managed to find herself on a pleasure island, lusting after the one man who wouldn’t take her virginity? Life seriously wasn’t fair sometimes. She’d always believed that life was what you made it. True, she hadn’t pushed back when her parents had sheltered her, but she’d been well on her way to putting her foot down. While women her age were getting degrees, partying all night, or marrying, she’d been sitting at home playing her violin until her fingertips bled. She’d been learning, reading… not living.
She was ready to live, darn it.
Tired of staring at the glittering waves and not feeling the breeze against her skin, she grabbed her pillow and strode onto the deck. There was still time to enjoy the fresh air before the sun came up.
A few minutes later, Avery jogged up and dropped into the next chair. Her long black ponytail was severely disheveled.
“You missed a great game.”
Ceara envied Avery’s ability to fit in. To join the group. Even V had gotten into the action. She wanted to learn to be more like that. The first step, of course, was opening up. She liked Avery well enough. She was cheerful, outgoing, confident in her sexuality. All qualities Ceara admired and wanted to emulate… even if her roomie was a sports nut and a little too gung–ho about running each and every morning.
“I met someone,” Ceara murmured.
Avery went still, and then turned in her seat so quickly she almost fell out of it. “Really?”
Ceara felt a little lightheaded just thinking about him. He was so… powerful. Masculine. His intensity left her raw and bare, exposed in a way she’d never felt before. She nodded.
“Well, tell me all about him.”
After licking her lips, she said, “His name is Maxim. He’s a werewolf.”
“Oh, here we go again.”
“I know—” Ceara said quickly.
Izzy, the beautiful Russian blonde in their coven, hated werewolves. Truly despised them. And with good reason. Coco had told Ceara about how she and Valencia had found Izzy in an alley in Paris. Raped, beaten, bleeding, almost dead. Valencia had changed Izzy, saving her life. Making her immortal. And though Izzy had adapted to vampirism, she’d never forgive the wolves. Ceara couldn’t blame her.
But then Izzy’s best friend, Coco, had secretly started seeing a werewolf. Things had been intense when Izzy had found out yesterday. Coco had said it was nothing; there was no relationship with Grayson. But that had turned out to be a lie.
Ceara didn’t have a best friend. In fact, she was still learning how to be friends with the other girls in the coven. They were likeable enough, but she’d spent most of her life locked away in her room. Alone. Valencia’s mansion was plenty big enough for everyone. They all had their own space. But Ceara craved the closeness… something she’d never felt with her parents.
Though she didn’t have a best friend, she could understand how Izzy must have felt by the secrets Coco had kept. Luckily, the secret came out quickly, before serious damage could be done. Coco had gone from single girl on the prowl to happily mated in under a week. Would mating give Ceara the closeness she craved? Close friends and family?
“Just be upfront with Izzy,” Avery said.
“Upfront about what?” Izzy’s voice carried across the deck.
Ceara wrapped her ponytail around her index finger and twirled it tight.
Avery glanced from Izzy to Ceara and
back.
“Ceara met someone.”
Izzy immediately sat on the end of Ceara’s chaise. “Is he hot? What am I saying; if he is immortal he is hot, no?”
Ceara smiled at Izzy’s way of thinking. Most immortals were drop dead gorgeous so she had a good point.
“He’s… dreamy.”
“Vampire?”
Ceara shook her head.
“Demon?” Izzy’s eyes brightened, hopeful.
Ceara shook her head again.
“Fae? He is not a god, is he?”
Ceara shook her head again.
“Oh.” Izzy screwed her mouth around.
“But he’s nice to you?” Avery asked, shifting the conversation back to a safe topic. Ceara was grateful as she didn’t wish to alienate Izzy.
“Very. He rescued me from a demon.” Ceara was still in awe of the way he just seemed to appear out of nowhere. She hadn’t seen him before she’d run headlong into him and she considered herself a very observant person.
Years of watching the world go by made it easy for her to pick up on details. Her coven mates told her she was a good listener too.
But right now, they were all ears.
“Really?” Izzy said, her tone expressing her disbelief.
“Tell us everything,” Avery added.
Ceara felt silly. Her fear wasn’t as strong as Izzy’s. But it was real to her. Demons made her jittery.
“The guy you ran into on the terrace,” Izzy said a moment later, her voice rising as if she’d just realized something.
Ceara nodded. “The demon started my way and I turned to… well, to run.” One day she’d be strong enough to stand her ground. But not today. “And I ran into the wolf. He kept me from falling. He must have seen my fear.”
“Probably scented it,” Avery said quietly.
“He acted like he was my… lover. Boyfriend? I don’t know. But it dissuaded the demon who left. The wolf, Maxim, asked if he could walk me somewhere. And I nodded.”
“That’s it?” Avery asked, surprise and disappointment coloring her voice.