by Rebecca Main
“You wouldn’t have cut yourself?” he asks dubiously, coming over to my side to check my minor wound.
“No, I wouldn’t have,” I argue back.
He takes hold of my hand gently, turning it to inspect the small gash along my forefinger and middle finger. “I’m sorry,” he rumbles, a troubled expression on his face. He turns off the water and grabs some paper towels to press against the wound.
“You can’t protect me from everything, Keenan. It’s a lovely thought, but it’s just not possible.” He colors at my softly spoken words. Through the bond, I can feel a flare of irritation, followed closely by a swell of regret and guilt. “Keenan—”
“I’ll run upstairs and get some bandages for that,” he tells me, “and I’ll take care of this mess, all right?” He leans forward and presses a kiss to my forehead, even though I’ve tilted my face accordingly to receive one on my lips. I watch him leave with a frustrated look.
True, my recovery has been a rocky one, with a few close calls throughout the three weeks I was bedridden. Though the pack and coven rallied to help my recovery through whatever means necessary, it’s taken its toll on Keenan. On myself as well, if I’m being honest. I don’t like being so weak, nor does Keenan. It leaves him overly protective and stressed. Now that I’m starting to feel better, I hoped the underlying tension would ease between us. Maybe if he would talk to me about what is really bothering him, I think sullenly to myself, we would be in a better place.
I maneuver around the broken ceramic and head upstairs to the master bathroom. Keenan is hunched over the sink, body stiff and the medical supplies sitting in a neat row to his left.
“Hey.” My utterance snaps him to attention, and he whirls around to face me. “Are you okay?”
He says nothing, only looks at me with those soulful brown eyes, his hard jawline ticking subtly to keep his words at bay. His next movements are almost mechanical as he tends to my cuts and bandages them carefully.
“Keenan?”
He gives a shake of his head and swallows hard, stepping past me and into the bedroom. I let my anger seep through the bond and watch as he stops midstep.
“Stop walking away from me,” I growl. “Talk to me, Keenan. What’s wrong?”
“You’re not ready,” he tells me, refusing to turn and face me. “You’re not strong enough yet to be doing anything.”
“Keenan—”
“I know you hate it. I know you hate being stuck in bed and being stuck here.” He breathes heavily, spinning around to confront me. “But if you don’t give your body what it needs to heal, then you won’t. You need to rest, Callie. Even before Maureen gave you the go-ahead, you were finding any excuse to sneak out, and we both know it didn’t do you any good.”
I grimace in guilt. “I do hate being in bed,” I agree softly, “but I don’t hate being here. Or being stuck with you. I want to be here, but, Keenan, I have to start building my strength back up. I need more than just rest to recover now. I’m ready,” I stress, letting the last two words hang heavy with meaning.
“You’re not, and that’s okay,” he tells me just as meaningfully.
“I am ready,” I argue, “and it’s about damn time you accept it.”
My heart rate steadily increases as we hold each other's gazes in another standoff. This one I’m going to win. Before I can talk myself out of it, or Keenan can walk away, I take hold of the bottom of my shirt and lift it over my head, tossing it to the ground.
“I’m ready,” I repeat, trying to give my words a more sultry edge as I peel off my leggings.
Keenan’s eyes darken as they focus on me. Each sweep of his eyes draws a flush across the length of my body before his intense inspection starts to get the better of my self-esteem. Especially when his gaze lingers over my gnarled scars. My legs bear the most of them, with pinched crescent moons and long stretches of puckered pink skin. But it's my left arm that makes me the most self-conscious. A sizable piece of flesh is missing from the upper arm, leaving not only an indentation, but a constant pain I’ll have to deal with for the rest of my days.
“Are you going to, you know?” I gesture impatiently toward his clothes. “All this stalling is ruining the mood.”
Keenan strides toward me, a flicker of understanding crossing his features before he cups my face in his hands and kisses me.
“You’re beautiful,” he breathes reverently against my lips, “and brave, and I’m so damn lucky to have you in my life, Calliope. But there were so many times where I almost lost you this past month.” His lips press back against mine more fiercely, a desperate moan sounding from deep inside him as he pulls me closer. I gasp when he releases my tender lips, my hands clutching his shirt so tightly I might have pierced the fabric.
“But you didn’t lose me, Keenan,” I utter the words against his stubbled-stained cheek, nuzzling my nose along his jawline, “and I didn’t lose you. We have each other now, and that’s what matters.”
“I love you, Calliope Sawyer.” Keenan’s eyes are closed as he speaks the words, his hands languidly running through my hair, down my back, over my hips, and back up my sides. “The past month has been hell, but that day in the forest—” His voice catches for moment. “—I felt you, baby. I felt every bite and hit and claw. I felt your fear and your grief. It felt like someone took a can opener to my guts, and there was nothing I could do about it. But I can now, and sometimes I still feel that old hurt lingering inside of you. And damn, baby, I can't stand that you're in pain.”
I bow my head to rest it on his chest, let his hands continue their exploration of my skin. Deftly they climb up my back and unclasp my bra, before tugging the item lightly off me. Keenan bends me backward, his head dipping toward my breasts. When his warm, full lips ensnare the rosy peak, I release a soft cry, my fingers weaving into his hair.
“You never need to feel that way again,” he growls stoutly into my skin, lavishing my breast with attention. “I’m here now, and I’ve got you, Callie.”
Keenan tugs me upward and captures my lips in another intense kiss, guiding me back toward the bed. His clothes come off in pieces as we make our way slowly toward its middle. First his shirt. Then his pants. I give an impatient tug to his boxer briefs only for him to catch my hands and bring them to his chest.
“Keenan,” I utter his name on a sigh as he traces kisses down my torso tenderly. The gentle foreplay has built a kindling fire up to an almost impossible roar. I squirm beneath him, my hips lifting upward to find some relief. He groans above me, body stilling as the hard outline of his cock presses firmly against the flimsy underwear I still wear.
“Slow, Callie,” he mumbles against my skin, his golden stained gaze flicking to my face as he helps me out of my panties. “We don’t have to rush this, baby.”
The sweet endearment makes my heart clench painfully. “I just want—” Keenan shushes me gently before removing his last article of clothing as well.
“I know what you want,” he tells me confidently in a husky baritone that makes my whole body shiver. His hands help guide my legs around his large waist before teasingly running the head of his cock along my slick heat.
“Keenan.” His name comes out more a whine than a growl, and his pleased smile almost makes my heart melt. He adjusts himself slowly above me, continuing his teasing motion and effortlessly driving me mad with want. His hand splays itself across my hip, thumb daringly close to my soulmark, while he rests upon his other forearm. Our eyes meet, and I am left breathless.
For though his eyes are full of want and hunger, it is not for sex. He’s hunting me. My hands clutch at his biceps as the realization hits. Not just the man, but the wolf inside of him. All those times of patiently watching me. Of cutting things off before they got too heated and letting me decide the pace. And now the wolf finally has me in his clutches.
“I love you,” I whisper shyly to him. The intensity of his regard hardly lessens at my words, but his satisfaction slips through the bond between us.<
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“I love you, too,” he replies back heatedly, angling his hips and sliding effortlessly into me. “I’m never gonna stop—never gonna let you go,” he groans. My moan is stilted by his lips slanting over mine. It has been so long, yet never has it felt so right to be with someone. To be with my soulmark. My soul mate.
As Keenan’s hip rock against mine, angling himself inside me deeper with each thrust, I let out a small mewl. I can feel him so acutely. Everywhere. Not just inside and out, but all around me. His lips fall to my shoulder as he begins to pick up his pace, my hips joining in the primal rhythm and making him shudder.
“Damn, Callie,” he groans against my skin, teeth nipping over the sensitive flesh as if in rebuke. “You really love me, baby?”
I pull his face toward me until it is level with my own. “Yes,” I tell him firmly, just before a gasp is pulled from my lips. “Yes, don’t ever doubt it. We’ve been through—” The words become lost as his thumb brushes over my soulmark. My hips press incessantly against his with unrestrained desire.
“Bind yourself to me,” he whispers harshly against my lips. “Be mine, forever and always.”
I whimper as my need grows. The heat inside me building to a crescendo around Keenan's driving thrusts. “Yes,” I breathe, tilting my head submissively to the side. “I bind myself to you, Keenan. Forever and always.”
The bond between us changes. It shifts, growing wider to some unfathomable depth before softening. Until there are no means to tell where one ends and the other begins. I give a soft cry. Eyes widening. Back arching. My fervent need bursting into stars before my eyes. Keenan holds me close as my climax reaches a fever pitch, driving into me with almost painful thrusts as his release shudders through him.
When we settle, he flips us around and pulls me against his side. My hand skims over the dark hair coating his chest, breathing in soft pants as my heart slowly winds down.
“What now?” I ask.
“Now?” Keenan replies, eyes slipping back to molten brown. “Now we take back what’s ours.”
Epilogue
The highest ranking among the pack gather in Xander’s study at the Adolphus manor one early morning in late September: the alpha male and female, the beta, the third through the fifth, and both Quinn and me. The room holds its breath, mimicking its occupants, as the alpha male paces the room.
“It’s been two months since they’ve been taken,” he recites, words razor sharp in their delivery. “How is it that we haven’t been able to find a single trace of them yet?”
It is my first meeting with the gathered group, and I watch on somewhat wearily. Everyone wears varying expressions of guilt and displeasure at the alpha’s anger and disappointment. I too am shifting uncomfortably from his sentiments, but find solace in Keenan’s nearness. He stands next to me, arms folded across his chest. His face held impassively as he regards the alpha.
“Ryatt? Quinn? Anything?”
Quinn shakes her head sadly. “It’s like he just vanished into thin air,” she responds. “His penthouse in Denver went up for sale and sold last month. His belongings moved to a storage unit. He didn’t take anything with him.”
“Except for Irina, Nova, and the relics,” Xander growls back, slamming his palms down onto the study desk with enough force to splinter the wood. Everyone flinches, except for Keenan, at the outburst. Even me.
“Xander, we’re doing everything we can,” Zoelle reminds him calmly.
“Where are the witches on scrying for her?”
Zoelle’s face falls. “Something is still blocking their efforts. They think Vrana is still in league with the Stormrow sorcerers, and that they’ve erected a blind over them so that they can’t be found by magic or otherwise.”
Xander’s anger vibrates through the pack bonds, and again the room shifts in discomfort. It's not until the alpha takes a deep breath and straightens that the tension finally breaks.
“I don’t even know where to begin to look,” he murmurs.
“Are you sure she’s still—” My question is cut off by an abrupt shake of the alpha’s head. He turns to face us, his face impossibly hard yet torn with grief and worry.
“I can still feel her through the pack bonds. It’s faint, but she’s still there,” he tells me tiredly.
I chew on my bottom lip for a moment. “Have you tried reaching out to others in the supernatural community?”
“I’m afraid that’s a no-go, darling,” Ryatt says, giving me a sidelong glance. “Our association with the witches makes us the so-called black sheep of the supernatural community.”
“What about Vienna?” The eyes of the room turn toward me.
“What about Vienna?” Xander asks back softly.
I shift a bit uneasily under his regard. “It’s been the seat of the power for the Ancients for the past four or five centuries, coinciding with the rise of the Hapsburg empire,” I say carefully. It’s obvious the room doesn’t know their vampyré lore. I continue with a steady breath. “If my teachings are correct, true daylight rings secure the wearer a place in the Court of Vampyrés. He’ll have to prove the ring is real and present himself to the Court, but that's just an educated guess.”
“Vienna, Austria?” Quinn asks to clarify. I give a brief nod, and a smile splits across her face. “I’ve always wanted to go there. Divine shopping. Road trip?”
“No more road trips,” Keenan and I say at the same time, sparing each other a special glance. A thrill of hope echoes across the pack bonds as Xander’s grim expression softens.
“Let’s make a plan,” he murmurs, stepping closer to join our circle. “They’ve been gone for too long. It’s time we get her back.”
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Mr. Vrana (A Soulmark Series Book 4) — Coming Spring 2018
Lycan Legacy (A Soulmark Series Book 5)
Lunaria (A Soulmark Series Book 6)
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Mr. Vrana
Coming Spring 2018
Revenge is a passionate friend when steeped in murder.
Acknowledgements
To my marvelous husband who has been there every step of the way—thank you. Your support and efforts to help me grow this series into something memorable is endlessly appreciated. I’m so excited to keep growing with you and to take this world by storm.
To all my friends and family, thank you for your support and putting up with my writerly ways.
A special thank you to Felicia, Christy, and Kim for being my beta readers!
And, of course, a special thank you to Hot Tree Edits, especially Virginia, Randie, Donna, Becky, Peggy, and Kristina, for all of their help and editorial efforts, and generally whipping my books into shape! Thank you.