by Sylvia Frost
She smiled at him, like they were old friends. “Lonan!”
“Celia,” he said, “can we get a table for two?”
“Of course,” she purred. “The usual?”
The usual. I wondered how many other girls Lonan had brought to this bar. I followed numbly as Celia wove between the the dimly lit wooden tables to find a space for us at the back.
When we arrived, Lonan pulled out a chair for me, although as it was made of long planks of reclaimed wood, it was really more like a miniature bench. “For you,” he said.
“Thanks.” I sat.
Lonan’s hands idled on my shoulder, his cold, dry touch finally meeting my skin. My mark of hairs zinged with warning. Instinctively, I brushed my braids over my left shoulder to dislodge him.
Lonan’s bony fingers flitted from my shoulder to my neck. He hummed low in his throat, almost as if in recognition. “What’s this?”
“N-nothing.” I shook my head, sending my braids falling protectively down my back, hiding the mark. “I’m fine.”
“Hey, no judgement.” He squeezed my shoulder, like he was my coach. “But I’d recommend seeing a doctor, okay?”
“I will, thanks,” I lied, not wanting to explain the details of my hormone imbalance to him just yet. I’d save that for date two. If there was a date two. The few other dates I’d been on often involved the guys scramming before dessert. Part of me wouldn’t mind if Lonan scrammed, but that part of me was the reason I was a virgin.
Lonan slid into the chair across from me. Before even picking up a menu he said, “Has anyone ever told you that you have amazing eyes, Rose?”
“No.” A smile began to twitch on my lips, but I couldn’t push it through. “Just pretty normal ones. Brown.”
He laughed, but it sounded forced.
I squirmed, the wood grain cold and rough against my thighs. Why had I worn one of Mamma’s dresses? The bright red and yellow made me feel like a chubby parakeet.
“So tell me,” he went on, still not picking up a menu, a single sheet of flimsy paper. “Sorry if this is a personal question, but that mark on your neck, how long have you had it?”
“Um, since I was thirteen. It’s really not a big deal.”
He hummed again. His teeth looked plastic. “Of course it’s not. I’m being an asshole aren’t I?”
“No,” I said, then I broke, shrugging with a grimace. “A little bit, actually.”
To my surprise, Lonan didn’t jump out of his chair, but just kept up his plastic smile. “Sorry.”
An apology was a good sign, right?
The waitress brought two mason jars full of clear ice water. I grasped mine and gulped down a quarter of it, then I focused on wiping off the condensation on the table below the jar with my napkin over and over again.
“Hey.” The old joints of the table creaked as Lonan leaned forward on his elbows. “Can I ask you another question?”
“Sure,” I said.
He cocked his head, and looked me up and down, although the table obscured anything below the waist. I didn’t see a familiar flash of disappointment when he noted my chubby arms. That was something.
“Is it true that you’ve never been kissed?” he asked.
“What? I set t-those questions to p-private,” I spluttered. At least, I’d answered them as if they were.
“You must’ve clicked the wrong button.” This time when he laughed, it was real. I liked it even less than his fake one. “And I’ll take that to mean you haven’t.”
“I…”
The waitress came and he waved her away casually, still staring at me, smirking. It was a little handsome, like if I squinted he could be rakishly charming.
“I could kiss you now, if you’d like. Just to see how it goes?”
“We’ve known each other less than twenty minutes!”
“I know a lot about you, though.” He gestured with the napkin-wrapped silverwear at me. “Your favorite movie is The Last Werebeast, mine too by the way. You were an English major, and your favorite flavor of ice cream is Cherry Garcia. The small talk’s been taken care of.”
He wasn’t wrong. I knew all sorts of silly things from his profile too. Like that his favorite book was Silver and Silicone: The Dawn of the Age of Man, that he worked as some kind of salesman and that he prided himself on being able to “fix any problem corporate or otherwise.” But I didn’t know Lonan Brown.
Lonan didn’t seem bothered by this. His mouth was still twisted in a smirk as he shrugged. “Hey, it might be nice to get it out of the way. You seem nervous, and I thought why not get rid of the anticipation?”
“I-I’m not nervous,” I lied.
“Really?” Lonan tilted his head meaningfully to the fork I had clutched in one fist, like it was a miniature sword. I’d left my actual mini-sword at home.
“Maybe a little,” I said, and let the fork go. This time when I laughed I felt it in my belly and it might’ve been with real humor.
“It’s okay to be nervous. And…” He set down the silverware, his features boyish. “It’s okay if you’re not interested as well. No pressure.”
“No.” I swallowed, my voice sounding dry and cracked in spite of the water I’d just drunk. I was twenty-three. At this point it didn’t need to be true love for my first kiss. I just needed to get it over with. If Lonan still made my skin crawl afterwards, I’d stand up and leave.
“I mean. Yes,” I said. “I’m interested. Nervous. But interested.”
He grabbed my hand again, his icy touch making me shiver a little less this time. “It’s okay. To be nervous. I bet you’d be calmer if you let me kiss you just once, before we start our dinner. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whispered.
Lonan patted my hand. “There you go, Rose.”
I cringed at his condescending tone, but it was too late, he was already closing the distance between us. His breath was cold and overly minty, like he had drunk a whole gallon of mouthwash. It’s sharpness reminded me of the hospital smell.
As his chapped lips drew closer I noticed the flecks of dead skin on them. I could count his nose hairs. My heart thundered in my chest. Now my hands felt cold too.
I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t have my first kiss be this. I started to stand up.
“Rose.”
A searing warmth of recognition lightening-ed from the mark on my neck all the way down my spine. The velvety baritone sounded so familiar, but it couldn’t be.
“Dr. Ward?” I asked as I turned, fully expecting it to be a waiter.
It wasn’t.
There he was. The Viking-sex-god doctor, and Sweet Jesus he was beautiful.
If I thought he was hot in a lab-coat, I had no idea of the havoc he could wreak on my hormones in a T-shirt and jeans. The coarse denim was tailored perfectly around his muscular thighs, and the cheap fabric of the “New York Werehawks” T-shirt was just transparent enough to show the ribbing of the tight wifebeater he wore underneath. On his feet were a pair of brand-new sneakers. Sneakers!
It was as if his whole outfit was designed to look as unlike the kilted and toga’d warriors of my fantasies as possible, and yet with his narrow golden eyes and wild tawny hair, he still exuded raw animal magic. And fury. His hands were rock-hard fists pulsing at his sides.
Lonan stood and smiled broadly, showing all of his too-uniform teeth. “Dr. Ward! What a coincidence seeing you here. Need another pen?”
Dr. Ward was so still I was reminded of one of Mamma’s cats right before they were about to pounce. He didn’t bother making eye contact with Lonan. Instead he glared at me. “I need to speak with you, Rose.”
Lonan laughed and put out a hand between Dr. Ward and me. “Sorry, Doc. You might have to wait a second. Rose and I are on a date here.”
I stepped back from Lonan’s barrier. “You two know each other?”
Lonan’s eyebrows flicked upward, like if he just moved his face fast enough this all could smooth over. “I work in pharmaceuticals.”
“Now, Rose. It’s urgent.” Dr. Ward didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to. I was standing before I knew why or how.
Lonan dropped his hand barrier, all overdramatic joking done. “What’s going on?”
“I-I don’t know?” I felt a pull through my entire body that wanted me to be with Dr. Ward. “But it should just take a second.” I drifted towards my doctor like a sleepwalker. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Lonan said.
Dr. Ward brushed his hand against my arm. Unlike Lonan he didn’t look for skin or linger, and as soon as I registered his touch it was gone. An ache panged in my stomach at the loss.
“This way,” he said.
He didn’t touch me again as he led me to the cloth-covered entryway that protected the entrance of The Tavern from the elements. Ironically, it was colder here than inside, so most of the people preferred to bypass this entrance and go to the one directly next to us that led right into the restaurant. It seemed as if the only reason they’d put a cover around this door at all was to hide their sanitation rating, which was posted on the plastic window. B+
I stowed my hands in the pockets of my dress to warm them as Dr. Ward shut the door, leaving us in our own little black-clothed bubble.
“So, what’s going on?” I asked.
“Rose.” His velvet rasp was nearing a guttural purr.
I tried to run through all the reasons Dr. Ward could be here, but all I could imagine was him pushing me up the wall and telling me that he’d come because all those smiles we’d shared in the hospital room had meant something. But I knew better.
I took a step backwards, my bare shoulder bumped up against the paper menu tacked to the plastic window. “What’s going on? Did I have a bad test result?”
He shook his head. His fists still hadn’t un-bunched. “No.”
“Then w-why are you here?” I wasn’t exactly afraid of the fire in his eyes, but the sheer masculine power radiating off him made my lips feel too swollen to make coherent words. He took a step toward me.
I could’ve reached out and felt the grit of Dr. Ward’s stubble or the softness of his lips. I could’ve hugged him. Smelled his savannah rainstorm cologne.
I could, but I couldn’t. Dr. Ward was not my date. Instead he had interrupted my date. He gave me these smoldering looks as if he might actually want me, without actually doing anything about it! Moments like this gave me hope for things that could never be. Moments like this only led to me being disappointed. I was so done being disappointed.
Mamma always said that her anger was like a forest fire—flashy, wild and ultimately good for the environment, but mine, she said, was like a May frost. Cold, delicate, and deadly. That frost had come.
“I don’t know what you want with me,” I said curtly. “But I was in the middle of a date. Now, if you’d please.” I motioned him aside with a flick of my wrist.
I felt as elegant as Mamma lording over a board meeting, or Cynthia Cinders sashaying out of the elevator. I felt like the kind of woman who boldly walks right into the office of the hottest billionaires in the world without so much as a trembling hand.
Dr. Ward didn’t move. “You’re going back to that man and continuing your date?” he growled incredulously.
“Y-yes,” I said, but I was proud I didn’t back down when he stepped closer still. Now I couldn’t see the exit back to the restaurant behind his broad shoulders.
“You can’t. I won’t let you. He’s not a good man, Rose. He’s not in your league. He works for the same company that makes your pills.”
“And?” My crossed arms tightened like a vice around my body. “I know what I look like and to be completely honest I don’t appreciate you insulting my dinner companion. You have no idea how hard it is for me to find someone who’s interested. I won’t hold where he gets his paycheck against him.”
I was beyond Cynthia Cinders’ class now, and had broached Jane Austen territory. All that was missing was a high-waisted Regency gown and a dig about how I might be a round girl, but at least I was a round girl with manners. So what if Dr. Ward’s accusation about Lonan was a little alarming. I was on a roll.
“You’re underselling yourself,” he said, low.
I rolled my eyes and put my hand on my hip. So much for elegance. “Sweet Jesus, I’m all for positive thinking, and I appreciate you being nice, but I know what I look like.”
“I don’t think you do. Even if you weren’t beautiful, a league isn’t just based on looks. That man, from the little I saw of him, lacked character.”
“Come on, you can’t tell me you date for character. I’m sure guys like you go for supermodels like anyone else.”
“Guys like me?” Dr. Ward’s baritone dipped into a bass. “Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how I couldn’t keep my hands off you when I was supposed to be your doctor.”
I couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment that I’d ended up with my back stuck to the plastic-y window behind me, pushing out the walls of the cloth entry way, Dr. Ward looming over me, but it was definitely happening.
“I figured that’s how you treat all your patients.” I gestured at him, as if it was obvious.“And I should be going.”
“Rose.” His breath washed over my cheeks, making the back of my neck tingle and my muscles loosen with wanting. I couldn’t move now at all, my knees were too weak. He smelled wild and hot and exotic. “I’m not your doctor anymore. Not now. Not here. Don’t be nervous.”
It was amazing how different the words sounded from him than they did from Lonan.
“It’s okay,” he went on. “This miscommunication was my fault. But let me be clear now. I don’t like women who only care about their looks.” He gave that crooked-canine smile. “None of them would’ve made the connection you did about your pills being laced with silver, for one. Or stuttered so adorably afterward either.”
My back slipped down against the cloth-wall, my center of gravity tilting toward him. “P-please, you can’t say things like that to me.” I sounded pathetic. I didn’t care. I had to do something to keep from burying my face in his hard, temptingly close chest.
“I can.” He wrapped an arm around my back, scooting me toward his body. “I am. I don’t like supermodels.” With his other hand, he stroked my arm, this time lingering as he trailed down my bicep all the way to the back of my hand. “I like you.” I shivered and gave in.
He tilted my chin upwards eagerly his mouth falling down upon mine. It all happened so fast, one moment all I ever wanted was to taste him, the next his soft lips were running over mine. He didn’t use tongue and moved slowly, carefully, as if he were learning all of this for the first time, too.
I knew you were supposed to close your eyes when you kissed, but I didn’t want to. Who knew when I would ever kiss someone this lovely again?
But then Dr. Ward’s hand moved from mine, up to the column of my throat, sending a fresh wave of gooseflesh shimmering down my neck. I couldn’t help but moan into his mouth and close my eyes.
My lips parted, needing for him to plunder all of me. His thumb moved in a small circle over my throat as he obliged, tentatively flicking out his tongue between my teeth to taste me. His mouth had an underlying sweetness to it that surprised me, nothing like his cloves scent.
I wondered what I tasted like to him, then almost drew back, but his other hand held me steady as his tongue lazily explored every millimeter of my mouth, until I could do nothing but melt into him, panting, “Please.”
I didn’t know what I was begging for, but I did know that even if I never got it, I’d suffer all the heartbreak in the world for this kiss.
Chapter 8
DANIEL
I survived in the cage by dreaming of claiming my mate. Every time they cut me on my bicep to test my healing capacity, I’d imagine I was holding her instead, curling up around her, knowing that by enduring this pain somehow I was protecting her. I’d done that so many times, eventually any time I thought of h
olding my mate, I’d feel a sympathetic pain in my arm at the same time. But now Rose was really in my arms and there was no pain at all.
She molded perfectly against my hard muscle. Something soft and sweet I could protect. Mine. I would never leave her again.
Ours. My inner lion reminded.
She shifted against me and I gripped her tighter. I couldn’t let her leave. Not now. Not ever. The world outside of my arms was too dangerous. Not with Lonan Brown sniffing around.
“Dr. War—“ “Daniel,” I corrected, hating the title. Ward wasn’t my real last name. I didn’t want any more lies between us. It wouldn’t be long before I’d tell her the whole truth, with Lonan nipping around my mate’s heels, I couldn’t take any more chances. In trying to protect her by staying away, I’d ended up putting her in even greater danger. Who know what Lonan Brown and his company really wanted?
“Daniel, I —“
I didn’t let her finish the sentence. The moment my name came from her lips, I swooped down and claimed her mouth. This time I used my tongue. Firm, deep strokes that powered across her gums and teeth and tongue. Her back arched, the red and yellow jersey rubbing against my t-shirt. Through the soft fabric, her hard nipples poked. My acute lion’s ears caught the faint thrumming of a moan buried deep in her throat.
When we parted, this time she didn’t try to move away, but let herself fall against me. “W-what was that for?”
“I liked the way you said my name.”
“Oh.” Her body trembled from nerves. “But why do you like it?”
My matemark itched on the back of my neck. I felt infested with secrets. I had to tell her everything, but what if she blamed me for what had happened to her? The years of taking the pills and the coma?
I evaded her question. "You mean did I follow you to this bar because I'm interested in dating you?"
“No. I mean, I know you want me, I guess.” Her nipples were still hard, and her cheeks glowed with heat. She squirmed "I... wait you followed — "
"Yes," I admitted in a rush. I was glad to confess to one sin and not all the others.. The family I’d lost. The beast that lurked inside me. The inner animal that would’ve driven me to hurt Lonan to protect her, if she hadn’t come with me. Hiding be damned.