by Mason, Nina
He just looked at her. “That’s your question?”
“One of them.”
Her whiskers tingled with embarrassment. She would have blushed had it been possible.
His eyes softened and she could have sworn she detected a smile on his mouth. “I never have, since there aren’t a lot of estrus lionesses prowling about the Highlands. But I imagine we could. Though, you should know a few things about lion mating habits before you get too enamored of the idea.”
She arched a fuzzy eyebrow. “Such as?”
“Such as that a lion’s penis, like all cats, has spines that point backward; that the average male lion ejaculates within seconds of penetration; and that, while he’s pulling out, the barbs on his cock rake the walls of his mate’s vagina to stimulate ovulation.”
“Oh.” She swallowed as the blood drained from her head. “And speaking of ovulation, will my pills still work?”
“I don’t know.” His lips curled to reveal enormous fangs. “Anything else?”
She nodded. “How do we turn back into ourselves?”
He winked on big golden eye. “By invoking the counter spell, of course.”
* * * *
Callum loped through the trees with catlike agility, his gut tight with worry. Would teaching Vanessa to shift and hunt be enough? If she stuck to her reckless plan to return to Louisiana, she’d have to do for herself, probably in the swamps—a prospect he didn’t like in the least. Any number of tragedies could befall her, not the least of which was losing control of her appetites. The beast within could take over when improperly managed.
In hindsight, he probably should have let her die of her injuries from the fall. Aye, he cared for her—more than he liked to admit—but that didn’t give him the right to unleash her on the population of New Orleans. After Hurricane Katrina, the last thing they needed was Vanessa Meadows blowing through.
The faint thunder of cloven hooves brought him back to the forest. Though he couldn’t yet see the herd, he could detect their musk on the breeze. “Wait here,” he told Vanessa, keeping his voice low.
He tracked the scent through the dense grove of pine, spruce, and sycamore until he sighted antlers. Crouching in the undergrowth, he waited, muscles tight and focus fixed. When the herd bolted, his gaze chased the fleeing deer, watching for laggards and gauging the right moment to pursue. When it came, he took off and, within seconds, pinned a doe beneath his weight.
“Come on.”
Vanessa was beside him the next instant. “Oh, my God, did you have to take a doe? What if she has babies?”
“By the might of Mars,” he ground out, shaking his mane, “it’s not a fucking supermarket. You take what you can get. Now, bite down hard, near the throat, and start swallowing as soon as the blood pulses into your mouth. And don’t mind the pelt. You’ll get used to it in time.”
She screwed up her face in a gesture that was all too human. “Do we have to kill the poor thing? She’s so beautiful.”
“Aye. We have to kill the animals we feed upon.”
She turned on him with questioning blue eyes. “Why?”
“I only know what I was told,” he said impatiently. If she didn’t hurry, the doe would die in vain and he’d have to kill another.
“This is so awful,” she moaned. “How often do we have to do this?”
“Once a week or so…provided we’ve got each other to supplement. Every couple of days if there’s no other source.”
“I hate this.”
“I know.” He fought the urge to roll his eyes. “But believe me, it’s by far the lesser of available evils.”
* * * *
While the deer’s coat was thick, coarse, and tasted vile, Vanessa found the blood surprisingly satisfying. When she’d had enough, she backed off and let Callum take over. He drank his fill and released the doe seconds before the life left the animal’s lovely dark eyes.
“That ought to hold us for now,” he said. “Tomorrow, I’ll teach you how to take one down yourself.”
“I can’t wait,” she said sarcastically.
The sun was starting to set by the time they reached the clearing where they’d left their clothes. He spoke the counter spell, and, after they’d dressed, tossed the car keys to her.
“Bring it around while I go retrieve the carcass. We’ll leave it at the kirk in Wick with an anonymous note telling the priest, as usual, to distribute the meat and hide among the parish poor.”
Chapter 12
The day Callum dreaded had arrived at last. Vanessa was leaving in a few hours and, as much as he wished it otherwise, he’d come up with no alternative to letting her go. The last few days had been glorious, albeit in a tortuous, living-on-borrowed-time kind of way.
They’d spent yesterday on a tour of Orkney. He thought she ought to see the archipelago before she went and, luckily, the weather supported his plan. On the ferry over, orcas, seals, and dolphins put in appearances, giving her thrills he found delightfully contagious. On the trip back, they were treated to a spectacular sunset while snogging at the deck rail. Throughout the day, he strove to savor every moment and not dwell on how soon they’d be saying their good-byes.
Tried, but failed miserably.
In another few minutes, they’d be setting off for the airport. Glasgow, instead of the nearer one in Wick, to buy him a few extra hours to try and change her mind.
When she appeared on the castle’s front portico with her suitcases, he took a long, pining look at her, drinking in every detail of her flawless face and figure. She had on the same skirt and boots she’d worn that first day he took her sightseeing. God, but she looked radiant in the pale light of the breaking dawn. She was twice as beautiful as when she was mortal, if such a thing were possible.
“Have you got everything?” he called to her.
“I think so.”
With a determined set to her features, she descended the portico steps. He hated that she was leaving and the thought of doing without her, but he detested even more the idea of her going so far away on her own when she was still a fledgling faery. He’d taught her the fundamentals of shifting and hunting, but she’d still need to find willing donors to satisfy her unnatural appetites.
The mere idea of her bedding other men wrapped barbed wire around his heart. But what more could he do? Ordering her about was not the way to go, he’d learned that much in their brief time together. She was a free-spirited, freedom-loving Aquarian. One faint whiff of his innate possessiveness and she’d fly away forever.
Besides, he’d meant what he said about butterflies. He liked his elusive, erratic, endearing swallowtail just as she was. He just hoped she didn’t go ballistic when he slept with other women. She’d said she understood, of course, but Aquarians could be mercurial creatures.
“So, when should I plan on visiting?” While he’d asked the question a thousand times already, he’d yet to get a straight answer.
“I told you,” she returned with a scowl. “When I’m ready.”
Swallowing his frustration, he dashed across the driveway, relieved her of her suitcase, and carried it to the Range Rover. After stowing the cases in the rear compartment, he hurried around, and opened the passenger door for her. Circling back to the driver’s side, he climbed in behind the wheel, buckled up, and fired up the engine.
As he pulled onto the main road, he took a breath and turned the car toward Thurso. To save time, he was cutting across the peninsula on the A-9 rather than taking the coastal route through Wick. He tuned the radio to a classical station before throwing a glance toward Vanessa, who was staring out the windscreen with a glazed expression.
Gathering his nerve, he tried again to pin her down. “You do want me to visit, don’t you?”
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”
He compressed his lips, still dissatisfied. “It’ll cost a bloody fortune if I wait till the last minute to book a flight.”
She heaved a sigh, making him feel like an errant child. “
Just give me a little time to smooth things over with Mr. Armstrong. That’s all I ask.”
“What are you going to tell him about us?”
“I wasn’t planning to tell him anything.” She shot him a puzzled look. “My personal life is none of his business.”
“I agree…but that’s not what I meant.”
“Right,” she said, catching on. “The answer’s still the same.”
“What if he figures it out?”
“I’ll lie.”
“You’re a terrible liar…and we’ll likely run into each other when I visit.”
She chewed her lip, but said nothing. He waited, blinking at her in time with the pounding in his temples.
Finally, she said in a choked voice, “This isn’t going to work, is it?”
“It will if you stay in Scotland.”
“I can’t. I don’t have a visa.”
“You won’t need one if we get married.”
Bloody hell. Did I just propose to her?
“Married?” She looked shocked and sounded appalled. “We’ve only known each other two weeks.”
“You’re right,” he said, backpedaling. “It’s too soon. I shouldn’t have suggested it.”
She looked at him as if he’d sprouted a second head. “Are you withdrawing your proposal?”
“Do you want me to?”
She shrugged. “Part of me does…and part of me doesn’t.”
“Can I lock the part that does in the boot and take the part that doesn’t to Gretna Green?”
She scowled at him reproachfully. “I thought you agreed it was too soon.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “Aye, well…we can always get a divorce if it doesn’t work out.”
“Your confidence leaves me breathless.”
Biting his lip, he returned his full attention to the road, saying nothing more. They were all the way to Fort Augustus, deep in the pine forest that edged the winding road, before she asked him, out of the blue, to pull over.
“What? Why?”
“Just pull over.” She slipped her hand between his legs. “Before I change my mind.”
Confused, but hopeful, he glanced in the rearview mirror. There was nobody behind them for as far as he could see. Easing his foot off the gas, he steered toward the shoulder, brought the vehicle to a stop, and switched off the engine.
“You honestly want to do the deed in the car on the side of the road?”
“Why not? There’s no one around.”
“What if the traffic police should come along?”
“You’ll make them forget what they saw…unless you’d rather not.”
She gave his package a squeeze, calling all the blood in his head to his groin. He reached for her, pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. He’d miss that aromatic herbal scent. Hell, he’d miss everything about her, more than he cared to think about right now. He set his cheek atop her head, his heart heavy and beating hard, and rubbed her back in slow-moving circles.
“I’m not leaving you, I promise,” she said, lifting his spirits some. “I’m only pursuing the career I’ve spent time and money preparing for. I wish you’d try to understand.”
“I do understand,” he said, chest heavy. “But I can’t shake the awful feeling this won’t go well.”
Drawing back, she gazed into him like a crystal ball. “Oh, my God. You think I’m leaving you for good.”
“What else am I supposed to think when you won’t commit to a date for my first visit?”
Her eyes narrowed and her brow knitted. “Jesus, Callum. How many times do I have to tell you? This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I care for you, I do, but I need more than a relationship to be happy. I need my own interests, my own identity, and my own purpose. And I need to know that any man I choose to commit to will support me in those things.”
He scoffed in spite of his own best interests. “Isn’t making me happy purpose enough?”
Oh, fuck. Did I really just say that aloud?
Her eyes caught fire and her nostrils flared. “And, just like that, the male chauvinist pig rears his ugly head. I knew all along you were repressing antiquated attitudes about women’s roles…and this just proves I was right.”
“I’m not, I swear,” he protested, sweating. “It’s just that…well, I can’t understand what you need with a bloody career. I offered to support you, didn’t I?”
Uh, oh. Clearly not the right thing to say at all.
The fire in her eyes now blazed like a funeral pyre—his, unfortunately.
“You have a career.”
“That’s different.”
“Why? Because you have a penis?”
He could almost hear the ice cracking under his feet. One more thoughtless remark and he’d plunge into the icy depths. To keep the fight from escalating further, he pressed his lips against hers.
Down, down on the seat they went, clawing at each other’s bodies, tearing at the clothes that stood in their way. He nipped at her neck and collarbone as he lifted her skirt. Her fingers raked his back and his ass as he ran his up and down her haunches. Her legs parted and clamped around him. When she arched up in invitation, he thrust into her, shuddering as her heat and lushness enveloped his length.
He pushed up, his hands on the leather seat on either side of her. The console was in her back, but she didn’t seem bothered. He drew back and hovered on the brink of slipping from her before driving into her again. She reared up to take him deeper and dug her high heels into his ass. He pulled back and thrust again, rotating a little as he filled her. The moan she emitted set off an explosion of lust in his pelvis.
She planted her hands on his chest and ground against him each time he plunged into her. Slow at first, then fast, relentless, both of them pumping in wild, mindless abandon. While wonderful, it also tasted bittersweet. He was melting, drowning, slamming into her with a mixture of joy and anguish that tore him like parchment.
Lowering his face to her neck, he bit down, sinking his fangs into skin and muscle. As her blood bubbled salty and sweet over his tongue, her sex convulsed, bringing on his own shattering climax. He shuddered into stillness, gratified and panting, his overheated face and disheveled hair dripped with sweat. He looked down at her, into her eyes, sure he saw a glimmer of affection. Or was it doubt? He said nothing. There was nothing left to say.
Once they’d sorted themselves out, he pulled back onto the road, her head parked against his shoulder. He twisted his neck to kiss her hair, flaring his nostrils to take in the fresh herbal scent of her shampoo.
God, how he was going to miss her. Hell, he missed her already.
Too soon, they arrived at the airport. Feeling like he’d swallowed hot coals, he pulled the Range Rover into the designated drop-off area outside the international terminal at Glasgow International Airport. He killed the engine and turned to take one long, last look at her, soaking in every detail of her lovely face. Those mental snapshots would have to sustain him.
“Do you want me to come in?”
“Don’t bother.” Her voice was tight and she refused to meet his gaze, adding to his vexation.
“It’s no bother.”
“If you come in, you’ll have to park the car.”
“I’ll gladly park the bloody car to see you as far as the security checkpoint.”
“I’m fine getting out here.”
Simmering in a sauce spiced with hurt and annoyance, he shook his head, jumped out, and unloaded her bags. “Are you sure?”
He hoped she understood he meant sure about everything.
She nodded. “I have supernatural strength, remember?”
Reaching around her waist, he pulled her against him and gave her a lingering kiss. Then, freeing his mouth, he whispered, “It’s not too late to change your mind.”
Biting her lip, she looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “I’m going to miss you.”
His throat was thick with emotio
n. “Don’t wait too long to have me for a visit, eh?”
“I won’t.” She touched his face with a tenderness that made him ache. “I promise.”
He gave her another heartfelt kiss and big hug before letting her go. As he stood there watching her stride toward the terminal, towing her heavy suitcases as if they weighed nothing, he felt his heart break. The sensation was akin to the snapping of a wishbone. Too bad he’d gotten the short end again.
PART TWO
The Wings of a Butterfly
Chapter 13
Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport was modern, clean, and smelled of popcorn, coffee, paprika, and human blood. Mr. Armstrong texted that he’d meet Vanessa at baggage claim and, when he came into view, she adjusted her scarf to cover Callum’s attempt to mark her as his property.
In terms of age, he looked to be somewhere in his early fifties. Medium height, good build, chestnut hair flecked with gray, piercing blue eyes, and a ready smile. Attractive in a bookish kind of way, he wore a button-down white shirt, khaki slacks, and cordovan loafers.
“Hi,” she said, offering him her biggest smile. “Thanks for picking me up.”
He flashed a grin, blinding her with whiteness. “My pleasure. How did it go? Did you have any luck locating the Vampire of Barrogill?”
“There’s no vampire there,” she said, forcing a smile. “But I did meet a ghost.”
His smile faded as he stepped back. “I’m sorry to hear that. About the vampire, I mean. The ghost thing sounds promising, though. You can tell me all about it on the drive to your house. In the meantime, how was your flight?”
“A little stuffy, to be honest.”
Stuffy was an understatement. The suffocating cabin had reeked so badly of human blood, she’d used the barf bag to mask the smell, drawing worried looks from her fellow passengers. Little did they know, airsickness was the least of their problems. If people thought snakes on a plane was a terrifying prospect, try flying the friendly skies with a hungry faery.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” His smile withered. “Would you like something to drink? Water? Sweet tea? A cocktail, maybe?”