Kiss of the Wolf

by Morgan Hawke

  He sucked on her throat, and a deep groan escaped. He thrust powerfully and then thrust again and trembled violently.

  She felt his cock releasing within her and writhed under him, shuddering with tremors.

  He pulled his mouth away from her throat with a gasp. “Night!”

  They collapsed together, trembling with the ebb of passion.

  “Forgive me, I am undone.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Your taste is intoxicating.”

  She panted with his heavy weight in her arms. “Thank you. You’re pretty impressive yourself.” She raised a hand to her stinging neck.

  He reached out and caught her wrist. “Do not. The wound is still fresh.” He slid to her left side and pushed her hip. “Up. Up on your side.”

  She rolled onto her side and pillowed her head on her arm. Languorous repletion washed through her. “God, I haven’t let go like that in…” She frowned. “In ever.”

  “I, too, have long been…cautious, in my affairs.” He tucked his long coat over them both. Wrapping an arm around her, he leaned up behind her. “It was a very great pleasure.”

  She snuggled back against him. “It was incredible.”

  He leaned down to stroke the wounds on her throat with his tongue.

  She pushed her hair out of the way and lifted her chin to give him better access.

  He started. “You do not mind?”

  She snorted. “I am a wolf. I lick all my wounds.”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” His head dropped, and his tongue swept across the wounds on her neck. He stopped. “You are healing very quickly.”

  “I do that.” She sighed and closed her eyes. “You could have told me you wanted a taste of blood.”

  He leaned up on one elbow to look down on her. “If I had told you such, would you have let me?”

  She turned and looked up at him. “I am a wolf. I understand the occasional need to taste blood during sex.”

  His brows shot up. “You need to taste blood?”

  She smiled. “Occasionally.”

  He brushed a finger across her cheek and chuckled. “Oh, yes, you are perfect for my needs.”

  “What?” A chill slithered down her spine. That better not be what it sounded like.

  He raised a brow and smiled. “Fear not, I will take very good care of you.”

  She caught his arm and dug her fingers in. “I can’t stay with you.”

  He frowned. “And why is that?”

  She avoided his gaze. “I have responsibilities….”

  He caught her chin and made her look at him. His silver brows lowered, and his eyes narrowed. “To whom?”

  To her government; she had a package to deliver. She scowled and jerked her chin from his hand. “That is none of your business.”

  He perched his chin on his hand and pursed his lips. “Ah, you are a messenger, a courier for your government.” He shrugged. “I care not.”

  She twisted out of his arms and sat up. She’d forgotten that he could pluck the thoughts from her head.

  He smiled. “I will show my kindness. You may deliver your package; then you will return to me.”

  “What?” She curled her lip at him. “I am not a dog to come to your heel. I am a wolf! I wear no one’s collar.”

  He smiled and caressed her thigh. “And your United States does not have a collar on you?”

  She stilled. They did but not for much longer. She glared at him. “That was a low blow. My contract ends after this delivery.”

  “Excellent.” He smiled, showing a hint of his long teeth. “You will be very good for me.”

  “You’re assuming that I’ll come back after my delivery.” She closed her arms about her breasts. It was chilly in the cave, and only the bottom half of her was covered by his coat. “What if I don’t?”

  “You will return.” He grinned and tugged her down into his arms. “Or I will find you.”

  It was too cold to fight, so she didn’t bother. She snuggled into his embrace. “Fair warning: I am not so easily tracked.”

  “Ah, but I am not so easily lost.” He tucked his coat around them both and curled against her back. His hand slid up to cup her breast. “Do you have a name?”

  She started. She didn’t know his name either. “I’m Thorn, Thorn Ferrell.”

  He chuckled softly. “A good name. You may call me Yaroslav.”

  She turned to look at him. “No last name?”

  He smiled. “I have many, and all difficult for your American tongue. Better to use Yaroslav.” He pressed her down and held her close. “Sleep.”

  She yawned, and a question tugged at her. “What are you?”

  He chuckled against her throat. “You could not tell?”

  “You’re not human….”

  “No. I am upir, vampire.”

  A vampire? Not likely. She snorted. “You’re nothing like a vampire. Well, other than drinking my blood.”

  “I assure you, I am upir. And you are werewolf, yes?”

  She frowned. “Yes.”

  “Much that is told of your kind is incorrect, yes?”

  She nibbled on her bottom lip. “Yes.” The big one being that she didn’t need to eat people.

  “Same is with upir. A very great much that is told of my kind is incorrect.”

  “I see.” She frowned. If this man was a vampire, then somebody definitely had their definitions wrong. Just for starters, Yaroslav was very much alive.

  “Thorn?” His voice was soft against her neck. “I would be very much interested in who has made you such.”

  Thorn stared into the shadows. “So would I, Yaroslav.” Her jaw tightened. “So would I.”

  “You do not know?”

  “I know what he looks like, but I never got his name. He called himself the Doctor.”

  “Ah…” His lips pressed against her shoulder, and his arms tightened around her. “Sleep, sweet Thorn.”

  She dreamed…of fire.

  A city was burning in the night. Smoke and red-tinted shadows leaped, towering over acres and acres of wood and stone buildings. A roaring red wind full of ash tore the city apart, nearly obscuring the sound of screams….

  Thorn jerked awake, shivering. She took deep breaths and forced her slamming heart to calm. A dream, it was just a dream.

  Yaroslav moaned softly at her back. His hands tightened around her.

  Thorn looked over her shoulder. Yaroslav was asleep and apparently having a bad dream, too. She turned in his arms and slid her arms around him. She pressed her lips to his brow.

  He pressed closer, rubbing his cheek against hers, sighing softly. He shivered, hard.

  She winced in sheer sympathy. It must be a really bad dream. She frowned. He had said that her mind was open to his and his was just as open to hers. Could she have seen his dream? Her brows lifted. Could she deliver a better dream?

  What could it hurt to try?

  She closed her eyes and pressed her brow to his. Concentrating, she pictured mountains, her mountains, the snow-peaked Adirondacks under a midnight summer sky full of stars bright enough to touch. Forests of tall, straight trees marching up steep mountainsides filled with white-tailed deer. Sparkling waterfalls falling into pools of mist and meadows of wildflowers…

  Yaroslav drew in a breath. “Is this your America?”

  She smiled. He could see it. “Yes, these are my mountains.” She concentrated harder, focusing on the cliff heights and the storms that filled the valleys….

  “They seem…big.”

  She chuckled. “It takes months to walk from one end of the Adirondacks to the other. The Rockies, at the other end of the country, are much bigger and take over a month just to cross.”

  His lips brushed her ear, and he sighed deeply. “You give me good dreams.”

  She leaned back to press her cheek against his. “That was the idea.”

  His breathing deepened, and his body relaxed.

  She smiled. He’d fallen asleep. Good. She snuggled into his embra
ce and her memories of home.

  3

  Thorn’s eyes snapped open. She was curled up tight in a cave under a warm and heavy weight. She turned her head. A man was sleeping practically on top of her. Oh, yes, Yaroslav—the vampire. She looked up. His tiny, glowing, heatless light still floated above them.

  Light trickled down the cave’s tunnel. Her wolf instincts suggested that sunset was not far away. It was time to go.

  Thorn wriggled out from under Yaroslav. Her breath steamed out, and chills raced across her skin. It was seriously cold. She grabbed her pack and then turned to stare at the black and gray sheep-fleeced coat Yaroslav was sleeping on top of. She couldn’t leave without that coat.

  The pressure in her bladder forced her into her wolf shape and outside. The late afternoon sun was bright and the sky a clear, hard blue, but she could smell a coming snow on the wind. A quick sniff and a hasty dig turned up a hibernating rabbit for a breakfast snack. However, at the speed she was traveling, she was going to need to eat something larger than a rabbit before the day ended.

  She dove back into the cave. She needed to go.

  Yaroslav was sprawled belly down across her entire coat.

  Thorn laid back her tall ears. She needed that coat as a human. Braving the chill, she assumed her human form and gripped the edge of her coat.

  Yaroslav opened his eyes halfway and yawned. “Ah, a naked woman; how pleasing.”

  Thorn shivered. “I need my coat. I have to go.”

  “I see.” He winced, rolled over onto his back, and sprawled in a full-body stretch. He smiled and held out one hand. “You may leave after I have a kiss.”

  Pushy bastard. Thorn rolled her eyes. “Oh, all right.” She crawled over to grasp his hand.

  He tugged hard.

  She fell, sprawling, on top of him.

  He grinned and rolled her under him.

  Thorn grabbed his shoulders. “Hey!”

  He pouted ferociously. “What? I am merely trying to keep you warm.”

  Thorn lifted her brow. He was a hard, substantial weight atop her, and heavily aroused. “Oh, is that all?”

  “But of course.” He lowered his head. “I will have my kiss now, if you please.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaned up, and met his lips and then his warm, velvety tongue. Her eyes drifted closed, and she explored the softness of his lips and tongue.

  He groaned in appreciation and fit his mouth to hers, his tongue stroking hers as though he could not get his fill.

  Heat flashed and coiled tight with merciless greed. She moaned. Her thighs parted, and her knees lifted to let him rest between them.

  His hips shifted, and his hand slipped between them. He grunted and the heated weight of his unrestrained shaft pressed against her moistening flesh.

  She pulled from his lips. “I thought all you wanted was a kiss?”

  He smiled. “I am not such a fool as to turn down a woman who clearly wishes more than a kiss.”

  Her mouth opened. “Who, me?”

  “Was I mistaken?” His fingers explored her sensitive folds and ripe clit.

  Her body jolted under the sparks of delight that danced through her. She gasped, pushing up against his fingers.

  He smiled. “Shall I stop?”

  She groaned. “You do, and you die.”

  His brows lifted. “Ah, now you are demanding?” His fingers gently rolled her swollen clit. “This sweet fruit I look forward to tasting when there is a bed and a fire.”

  She choked and bucked hard. His brutally tender caress was so pleasurable it was closer to pain.

  His finger entered her and flicked within.

  She shuddered with violent urgency and writhed against his deliciously stroking fingers. “All right, you win.” She lifted her legs, hooking her heels around his waist. “You can have more than a kiss.”

  His fingers stroked deep into her. “Are you quite sure?” His thumb swept across her swollen clit.

  She jolted right to the edge of ecstasy. With a gasp, she threw back her head and arched up hard. “God, yes! Please, damn you, fuck me already!”

  He grinned. “Such a sweet invitation….” He shifted and set the broad head of his cock to her slick entrance. “How can one resist?” He thrust.

  She met his stroke with an upward push, and he sheathed himself deep within her.

  They both groaned in satisfaction.

  His mouth took her breast, and his teeth worried at her swollen nipple.

  The exquisite torment of his tender bite speared into her belly. She tightened her legs around him and burrowed under his shirt to pull him tighter to her.

  Stroke and counterstroke were agonizingly slow, yet deep, punctuated by heartfelt sighs and greedy moans.

  Climax rose and held on the trembling edge. She set her heels into the floor and pushed to encourage him to a quicker pace. She was right there….

  “Not so quickly.” He groaned and slid down his hands to cup her ass. “Control your greed.”

  “Please!” She writhed, fighting his hold. “I’m right there!”

  “In time.” He dug his fingers into her cheeks, holding her rhythm to his brutally slower pace. “I wish to savor.”

  “Damn you…” She fought to get closer, but he held her back with his slow yet powerful strokes. Frustration made her shudder beneath him.

  He opened the collar of his shirt and then tugged both the shirt and his coat down, baring his right shoulder. He cupped the back of her head and pressed her mouth to the hard muscle of his shoulder. “Bite, and taste my blood.” He thrust and groaned. “As I tasted yours.”

  So close to the edge of bliss, and held back from reaching it, she seriously wanted to bite him. She opened her mouth and bit down, hard.

  “Yes….” He gasped. “Yes…yes….”

  His skin parted under her teeth, and his blood, thick and sweet, slid over her tongue. It barely tasted like blood at all, and it burned, like potent whiskey. She jerked back.

  “No.” His hand cupped the back of her head, keeping her mouth against his shoulder. “Drink.”

  She didn’t want to; he didn’t taste right. She pushed against him.

  His fingers locked in her hair. “Drink.”

  Her mouth filled; she had to swallow or choke.

  “Drink!”

  A spike of darkness shoved at her mind. She whimpered in alarm and swallowed. The thick liquid burned all the way to her stomach. She groaned.

  “Ah…yes, very good.” He shuddered, and his thrusts increased in power. “Again.”

  Her mouth was already filling with his burningly potent blood. She swallowed, and languorous heat spilled down her throat and spread from her belly. Her thoughts drifted apart.

  He stilled, hard and deep within her, holding her fiercely tight. “Now, come!”

  Climax rose and clenched violently within her, stopping her breath.

  His mouth closed on her throat, and his teeth sank viciously deep. He thrust, slamming into her without mercy.

  The sharp bite pushed her over the edge, and her release exploded in a horrific torrent of fire that burned up her spine, spilling over her in a wave of unexpectedly ferocious, carnal euphoria. She hammered up to meet his violent thrusts and screamed her delight.

  Moaning, he thrust deep and held, his cock trembling within her. He swallowed, drinking the blood pumping from her throat.

  Clinging tightly to his shoulders, she moaned through the aftermath of her ferocious pleasure and the aching sting of his feeding.

  He pulled his teeth from her throat and shuddered. “Night and blood…” His tongue swept across her wounds.

  She sprawled under him, struggling to think through the fog in her mind. An odd heat coursed through her.

  He leaned back and smiled down at her. “Yes, very good.” He licked his lips and then nodded. “In fact, most excellent.”

  She stared up at her bite on his neck. His wound had already stopped bleeding. Apparently he healed
as fast as she did. She frowned, reached up, and slid her hands through his hair. His hair was no longer pure silver but streaked in black, and his face had smoothed. She pressed her palm to his cheek. “Are you getting…younger?”

  His brows swept up, and then he shrugged, his gaze drifting from hers. “I am a vampire, and your blood is…potent.”

  She frowned. “Is that a yes or a no?”

  He dropped his head and smiled. “That is a yes. The magic in your blood feeds mine.”

  Thorn licked her lips and tasted the sweet potency of his blood. “Magic?”

  He snorted. “But of course. That is how one makes one such as you. That is what allows you to move between bodies. How else would two souls and two bodies be joined?”

  She looked away, remembering the glowing ring. “But the Doctor said he was a scientist.” She looked up at him. “I thought what he did was science?”

  “Your Doctor…” he curled his lip, “is magi, a user of magic.”

  She frowned. “Are you sure?”

  He smiled sourly. “I am without a doubt.” He lowered his head and softly brushed his lips against hers. “We will speak on this at another time.” He took her lips, pressing her mouth open under his. He explored her mouth and lapped at the traces of his blood on her tongue. He pulled back, dropped a quick kiss on her brow, then lifted up on his palms. “Now you may go.”

  She scowled. “Oh, gee, thanks.”

  He tilted his head, and his gaze brightened. “You do not wish to go?”

  Of course she did. She opened her mouth to say so and felt reluctance. She frowned. She didn’t want to go. She didn’t want to leave him. But she had to deliver her package. She leaned up on her elbows. “I have to go.”

  A smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “I am in anticipation of the delights of your return.”

  She smiled. “So sure I’ll come back?”

  Yaroslav sat up and then leaned back on his heels to straighten his clothes. “I am.”

  “Is that so?” Thorn lifted her coat from the floor and shook it. She winced against the thrown sand. “I may not.”

  “You will.” Yaroslav lifted his chin to button his dark silk shirt. “There is much you do not understand about what you are and what I am to you.”

  Thorn rolled her coat into a bundle and grabbed her pack. “And you know all the answers?” She shoved her coat into her pack.