Putting action to words, he tugged off his shirt. She quickly drew up her feet, fearing he would stop. She was staring, but she couldn’t help it. There was something mesmerizing about seeing all that muscle in motion.
When her gaze finally wandered up to his, breathing became difficult. She half-expected a leer or a crude pass. All she saw was welcoming heat.
She found herself relaxing against the pillows, silently inviting him closer, itching to get her hands all over him.
As if to prolong the chase, he turned away and headed toward the bathroom, unbuttoning his jeans.
A bit of her mourned that he’d moved before she saw what was revealed. The other part of her breathed a sigh of relief to be spared. She tried to tell herself that she was glad, but the lie wasn’t convincing even to herself.
Unable to help herself, she curled up on her side and watched him ready the tub. When he straightened, the last thing she expected was for him to strip off his pants.
No underwear.
That was the only thought circling her mind. She couldn’t seem to think past that. He lowered himself in the tub, and she watched the play of muscles in a sort of unbreakable fascination.
He settled deeper into the water, his head back, his eyes closed. She could easily envision him being pleasured. Her gaze was glued on his hand as it disappeared under the surface.
Before her mind wandered any further, she flipped to her other side and squeezed her eyes tightly shut. That didn’t stop the near silent trickle of water or prevent her from imagining what he could be doing. That image fried the last of her remaining working brain cells.
It was all Merrick could do to turn his back on Trina. Her silent invitation all but ruined his control. But it was too soon. If he took her now, he’d have only one night with her and that was unacceptable.
So he toddled off to the bathroom like some eunuch and soaked in the tub. The heat stung his back, and the water did nothing to get rid of the ache in his balls. He closed his eyes to block the image of her watching him from the darkness.
If anything, it made it worse. Even with the distance between them, he smelled her desire, the scent driving his beast wild with the need to stake claim.
He slid his hand under the water and fisted himself, but his own grip didn’t satisfy his lust. He wanted her smaller hands on him, her smooth skin against his.
He recalled the delicate way she’d stroked Beast. It was like she’d reached in his pants and brought him to full arousal with just a brush of her fingers.
One touch, and both he and Beast were hers. Each time Beast rose at her nearness, it became easier. Still feeling her touch deep inside his chest, he allowed the tension of the day to drain away, her presence soothing despite the desire.
She was within reach and safe. He could relax.
When his back grew stiff from the heat, he drained the water and slowly rose. The muscles ached, but nothing like they had before she arrived. It gave him hope.
He entered the bedroom, very conscious that she was still awake. The silence was absolute as if both were afraid to breath. The empty half of the bed beckoned him. To keep his focus off her and his dick, he purposely didn’t look at her and headed toward the uncomfortable couch.
The cold, empty couch.
Trina didn’t hear his silent tread, but she knew each step he took the instant he rose from the tub. He walked by the bed then hesitated. She half-expected him to crawl in next to her, almost turned over to welcome him. It was all she could do to wait for him to decide.
When he finally moved toward the couch, she released the breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding. Indecision churned her in gut. No matter how much she might want to give in to the demands of her body, it would be a mistake.
Getting involved with these people distracted her. She was supposed to be working on a way to rescue her sister. Instead, all her time was caught up with Merrick and her fascination with him.
The best thing that she could do for the both of them, before they drove each other crazy, would be to keep her distance.
Chapter Nineteen
Merrick woke to the sound of Trina sliding out of bed. Curious to see what she would do, he held still and feigned sleep. Nothing could have surprised him when she pulled off her shirt and started working out in just a tank top.
Predictably, his dick paid special attention as well. After a good twenty minutes, the glaze of lust finally cleared from his eyes enough for Merrick to notice the smooth way she moved, the efficient kicks and punches.
She’d had special training, some fancy name Weston would most likely recognize.
She had talent.
In most settings, she would be lethal.
Then he saw her shoulder, and all emotions died.
The mark of ownership marred the smooth skin of her collarbone from neck to shoulder. The bite mark was so brutal he was surprised she’d survived.
Feeling betrayed, he realized she was the one the vampires wanted. At the beginning, the thought had crossed his mind, but he’d dismissed it.
Trina would never allow herself to be controlled. She had too much spirit.
When the workout ran down and she turned toward him, Merrick closed his eyes and deepened his breathing. He couldn’t face her until he had everything sorted out in his head. He wasn’t ready to give her up so easily. He just needed to figure out the riddle that was her.
What could she hope to gain by being here? The vampires were searching for her, so they obviously didn’t send her to spy on them. The witches wanted her as well, rather urgently if he had a guess. Why?
He heard the rustle of her clothing and the sound of the door clicking shut as she left. Beast gave a little mournful whuffle, wanting to follow her, but Merrick ignored him.
* * *
Trina refused to feel guilty for sneaking out without waking Merrick. He looked so peaceful and way too sexy for her own good. She needed space from him and what he made her feel. He tangled everything up inside so that she couldn’t think straight.
No doubt he would try to keep her in their room all day and out of trouble. She entered the kitchen cautiously, remembering what’d happened last time.
Only to find the room empty of all but a teenager. The tension eased from her shoulders, and she smiled. “Hello.”
The young boy gave a short scream and whirled. He clumsily yanked a knife from his jacket. When he brandished it in her direction, it appeared too dull to cut water.
When he saw her, he lowered his arm and cleared his throat. He tugged down his shirt with one hand, fingering the knife with the other. “Hello.”
“I’m Trina.”
“Drew.”
The boy didn’t move, and she smiled to put him at ease. He was the boy Merrick warned her about, the boy she was supposed to keep her distance from. The witch apprentice. He stared at her teeth as if he expected her to eat him for breakfast, and she couldn’t turn away from his terror.
“You’re not one of them, are you?”
Trina cocked her head. “Them?”
“Shifters.” He said the word like they were the spawn of Satan, raised from hell just to make his life miserable. She understood fear, but this seemed like something more.
“No, I’m not.” She walked farther in the room and grabbed a box of cereal, helping herself. “You must be new here, too. Sneaking down to breakfast?”
He gave a hesitant nod as if expecting a trap.
“Same here. Yesterday, I caused a small riot. I thought it might be easier to grab something quick before the sun rose and the training session ends.”
Since she’d entered the Den, it seemed that her every breath spread disaster, each touch wreaked havoc. She wasn’t a klutz, she wasn’t accident prone, but around the graceful shifters, she might as well have been a toddler learning to walk.
The boy didn’t return her smile, but he didn’t bolt from the room as she expected. She was on her second mouthful when the boy followed suit. They
were halfway done, each silent, lost in their own thoughts when the fragrance of moss soured the mouthful of food she had just taken. She couldn’t force herself to swallow. She was afraid to move, afraid to breathe.
She had to be wrong.
They couldn’t be here.
Not inside the Den.
She only had seconds to react, get away, but she couldn’t abandon the boy or leave the shifters vulnerable. Not when they were there for her.
The boy, attuned to her, stopped eating and stood. Trina shook her head, and quickly grabbed him, pulling him into a crouch behind the counter. She painfully swallowed her lump of food and raised a finger to her lips.
Drew nodded, the frightened expression back on his face. She reached up, groping the tabletop for her bag. And cursed to see that she’d left it at the end of the counter. She duck-walked forward, silent and swift. When the boy made to follow, she waved him away.
She wasn’t sure she could trust her senses, not after the last few days, not after being wrong so many times. The shifters must be disturbing her magic somehow, their nearness throwing her out of whack. It made no sense that a vampire could just walk past a den full of shifters and not be caught.
Unless someone had let them in.
Trina had one guess who.
The she-bitch that wanted her Merrick.
The room’s temperature dropped at least ten degrees, and the hairs on her arms stood on end. She wanted to widen her senses but knew better than to unleash her magic.
She would only become a larger target.
She snatched her bag to her chest, half-expecting someone to reach over the counter and lift her by the scruff of her neck. No one did, and she scurried backwards, trembling as the smell of moss grew stronger.
The boy had his blade out, ready to bolt, and Trina prayed that his nerves held or he’d get them both killed. She grabbed his wrist and gently pushed down the knife. Her touch eased him, his muscles shook then steadied, and he nodded to her.
“What is it?” The words were only a breath of air, and she held up her hand.
She licked her lips and mouthed one word. “Vampire.”
The boy blanched, pressing his back against the counter.
Then she heard a sound she dreaded.
Footsteps.
She rummaged inside the bag until her hand settled on the rowan stake she’d fashioned. The boy looked disappointed when she pulled it out, as if he’d expected a grenade. Then she plucked out her Athame.
Vampires were wicked fast, something that increased with age. From the slight vibration in the air, this one was one of the oldest she’d ever met. Not the king, but damned close in age and power.
Without magic, they were screwed. She’d never be fast enough to get near him. She wouldn’t allow the vampire to take the boy and couldn’t allow herself to be captured.
She reversed the knife, but instead of handing it over, she slashed the end of her finger. Pain flashed from the deep wound. The boy’s eyes rounded, and he frantically shook his head. She pressed the pommel in his hand and liberally coated the stake with her blood.
Careful not to lead a trail back to the boy, she scrambled around the counter and heard someone inhale slowly as if relishing her scent. Vampires didn’t need to breathe…unless they caught the scent of their prey.
The boy reached for her, but she slipped away from his grasping hands, waving him away. She pointed at the source of the sound and signaled him to stay. She hoped he understood.
Her heartbeat thundered in her ears as she waited for the vampire’s first move.
“I can smell you, blood whore.”
Trina winced then forced her shaky legs to stand, the stake at her side but not hidden. “That’s original, coming from someone like you.”
Too pale eyes swept over her, and the chill intensified until she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering. His attention came to rest on the stake, and a hint of a smile cracked his lips.
“Do you think you can take me?” A raspy laugh scraped against her spine. He lifted his hand, urging her closer, his confidence eroding away hers. He wanted her within reach. Once he got his hands on her, she would never be free again.
Vampires took their victims’ blood in order to control them. Hunger swirled behind his eyes, and he licked his fangs. His heart thumped once, twice in excitement then fell silent.
His smile rose slowly, his fangs glistening with saliva that could cause either pain or ecstasy depending on the vampire’s will. She shivered, and the wound on her shoulder throbbed in remembrance of her flesh being torn away, mauled like an animal.
Sweat loosened her grip, and she shifted nervously. With a smooth grace she had no way to duplicate, he copied her move. His back was toward the counter, angling her so the door was behind her.
An easy escape…unless you were cornered by a vampire. If she turned to run, he’d be on her in seconds.
It was a trap.
A good one.
Memories rose of being caught by a vampire, his fangs piercing her shoulder. Flames of pain had ripped through her body as the monster tore through her flesh and stole her blood.
She wouldn’t let that happen with this one.
The tissue of her injured finger knitted together and the blood clotted. If she was going to move, she needed to do it now. She wasn’t an equal to a vampire, not without her magic.
Hoping to take him by surprise, Trina launched herself at him, the stake aimed for his heart. He caught her easily, his cold fingers bracketing her wrists like metal and just as bitterly cold. The grip was brutal, and she was half-surprised her bone didn’t snap. The stake she’d spent days carving and a fortune to purchase fell from nerveless fingers.
Moving quickly, she brought up her other hand, her goal to reach any exposed skin and infect him.
He captured her second hand, stopping her fingers just inches from his throat. The vampire smiled as if he’d expected her move. Those rotten teeth repulsed her, but it was his fetid breath that nearly kicked her on her ass, sucking all the air from around them so she could barely fill her lungs.
His lips curled in distaste. “You are an abomination. If I had a choice, you would be put down. You’ll outgrow your usefulness soon enough, but for now, you are too precious to the King to taste.” Fangs gleamed in a parody of a smile. “Maybe I should wait for your shifters, and you can watch me feast. Payment for keeping you hidden.”
Fear spiked until the beat of her heart threatened to explode in her chest. She threw her body backwards in a desperate attempt to break his hold. She wouldn’t allow him to harm those who had helped her. “My powers would never have awoken if your king hadn’t attacked me.”
Instead of answering, the vampire subdued her as easily as a fisherman capturing a fish, pinning her arms to her sides and holding her immobile. His creepy room temperature grip stole her warmth, his clammy skin like a touch from beyond the grave.
Not willing to concede, she slammed up her knee into his groin, but her blow had no effect. His pecker had probably rotted off a long time ago. She tried to bring up her elbow, but couldn’t get enough momentum to be effective.
She drew back and head-butted him. He grunted, and his grip tightened until all she could think about was getting enough oxygen to stay conscious.
“Don’t worry, soon nothing will matter at all. Things will go back to the old ways. We were created to take what we want, no one will be able to stop us. You will return us to older times where we will reign once more.” The whiteness of his eyes captured her until she couldn’t tear her gaze away. His immense age pressed down on her. Shapes took root in those pale blue eyes, luring her to peer closer, and she cursed herself for underestimating his power.
She fought it. The magic helped a bit, but she felt her mind bend under his will. He couldn’t be allowed to take her. The world couldn’t revert back to the death and chaos of the Dark Ages.
Humanity would never crawl out again.
D
rew gave a battle yell, launching his fifteen-year-old self over the counter, her blade clutched in his fists. The metal sank deep, but the vampire only shrugged the boy off like a pesky bug. Drew went flying and hit the wall with a sickening thud and lay unmoving.
Then the vampire turned his terrible gaze back on her, uncaring of the knife still sticking out of his shoulder. “Don’t worry, blood whore, you’ll soon get used to the feeling of death and enjoy it.”
And he was no doubt right. She’d seen even the strongest men become addicted to the blood, craving to taste it again and again, eager to relive the high they felt, the power they gained. It was the enzymes in their saliva, designed to lure their prey to them.
She bit her lip, welcoming the pain, anything to avoid the drop into the deep pit of his eyes and the terrible truth of the future he’d laid out for her. Blood welled, spilling across her tongue, the magic helping to snap his slippery hold on her.
Still captured in his grip, she used the only weapon she had left to her. She spit the blood in his face.
The vampire flinched but then laughed when nothing happened.
She smiled and bit out one word. “Burn.”
Magic ignited at her command like gunpowder, and her blood ate away his flesh, pitted the skin until she saw bone beneath. He dropped her and slapped at his face, desperate to remove the source of the pain.
Part of her was horrified by the brutality. She hastily scrambled out of range of his flailing arms. As if he sensed that she was the cause of his pain, the vampire opened his mouth and hissed at her.
Just when she thought he’d leap at her throat, a roar thundered in the house, so terrible she trembled. The sound reverberated and thumped in her chest like a base drum.
“Merrick.”
As if saying his name conjured him, Merrick appeared in the doorway and sprang through the air, meeting the vampire head-on. Part of her relished not being alone with the vampire, but she would give anything to see Merrick safe, not flinging himself into danger because of her.
The men grappled. Both had fangs bared, claws at the tips of their fingers, the nails granite hard and wicked sharp. They swiped at each other, flesh tore, blood welled.
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