Eyes Like a Wolf

by Evangeline Anderson

  He looked at me again, and I got the feeling he wanted me to say something. “That's…I've never heard that,” I said at last. “It's…interesting.” Privately, I thought it sounded like something made up to explain our family's differences from the outside world. But just because we all had green eyes and really good night vision didn't make us descendants of an ancient Egyptian god and goddess. Still, I motioned for Richard to go on.

  “It gets more interesting,” he said darkly. “You see, to balance their increased abilities, the sons of Anubis were given a curse: that they should bear the true form of their father every full moon and bathe in blood before they regained their own faces again.”

  For the first time I drew back from him, really scared. “Uh…bathe in blood?” I tried to laugh. “That sounds pretty grim, Richard, for a fairy tale.”

  “This is no fairy tale.” His gaze was intense, willing me to understand—to believe. “It's folklore passed down for generations—the story of our origins, Rachel. The origins of the Amon-kai. And the only way the sons of Anubis, the Lanor-zur, can control the curse is with the help of a Lana-zeel—a mate, a true daughter of Bast.”

  I shook my head. “I don't understand. What are you trying to tell me, Richard?”

  He closed his eyes briefly, and I saw the muscles in his jaw clench. “This is hard to say, but I can't wait any longer,” he said at last. “We have barely two weeks before the next full moon. I'm saying I need you, Rachel. Need you in my life, now and forever.”

  I felt a surge of relief, although I wondered what in the world the moon had to do with anything. “Well, of course I'll stay in your life, silly. Now that we've found each other, we're never going to lose touch again. I thought we already agreed on that.”

  “No, Rachel.” He reached over to take one of my hands in both of his. “I mean I need you.” He lifted my hand and kissed the palm gently, a hot, slow kiss that sent a shower of sparks throughout my body, before raising his eyes to mine. “You know what I mean,” he said softly.

  “No, I don't.” I tried to pull my hand away, but he wouldn't let me. “What are you saying?” I demanded, giving up my futile efforts to be free. “Are you trying to say that you need me…?”

  “As a mate,” he said simply.

  “Richard, this is bizarre! Are you asking me to marry you or something? Do I need to point out why that's impossible?”

  “We don't have to get married, just live with me.” He said it as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

  “Well…but we are living together—at least for now,” I clarified, gesturing with my free hand to indicate our semi-domestic situation. “I mean, what more do you want from me, Richard?”

  “It's what I need from you, Rachel,” he repeated earnestly. “Not just what I want.”

  “Okay, so what do you need?” I demanded. I had an idea of what he was going to say, but I just couldn't believe it. Couldn't believe that he would actually ask for what I was afraid he was going to ask for until I heard it from his own lips. I kept hoping I was wrong, that he would say something completely different and surprise me.

  “Do I really have to spell it out?” His face was anguished.

  “Yes, Richard,” I said quietly, through lips that felt numb. “Yes, if you're going to ask for what I think you're going to ask for, you have to say it out loud.”

  He heaved a sigh and reached out to caress my face, but I flinched away. He looked sad, but determined. “I need you sexually, Rachel,” he said at last, meeting my eyes fully. “I need to make love to you. Need to breed you.”

  His words unloosed a torrent of emotions within me. Disbelief that he had actually said what I was most afraid of. Horror that he would ask such a thing of me. Shame that his request didn't disgust me as I knew it should. And under it all was the bright spark of heat that his touch always ignited in me, glowing like a hot coal in the center of my chest, making my breath hitch in my throat and my eyes grow wide.

  “Richard…” I shook my head, at a loss for words.

  “I know what you're thinking—that it's wrong,” he rushed on. “But it's not for us, Rachel. It's the way of the Amon-kai. We mate our own, and you and I were bonded as children. It doesn't matter that we were raised as siblings—we're really not, and besides, only a Lana-zeel can help a Lanor-zur control his blood lust.”

  I shook my head again. If he hadn't had me so firmly by the hand, I would have been backing away from him. “Richard, no. I can't hear this right now. I don't…we can't—”

  “Our parents did,” he said quietly, cutting my denial short. “They were raised together and bonded as children, just as we were—two halves of the same whole.”

  “You're lying,” I said in a voice that shook.

  “No.” He sighed. “Look, why do you think Mom wanted to take you away from me? Why do you think she warned you never to see me again, never to think of me, look for me? She was looking for a way out, and she didn't want you raised in the ways of the Amon-kai. Why else would she take you away?”

  “I don't know why,” I nearly shouted. “But not this—never this. Richard, please…” I was begging him now, all my outrage suddenly evaporated. “Can't we just forget you ever said these things and go on having a nice visit together? These last two weeks have been so perfect—almost magical.”

  “Because we belong together, Rachel. Can't you see that?” He leaned forward, searching my eyes earnestly. “Even if you don't believe the legend, you have to feel how right we are together. Every time I hold you, every time I touch you, I feel it.” He raised a hand and brushed his fingertips lightly across my cheek, making me gasp with the sudden heat his touch raised under my skin. “You can't tell me you don't feel it, too,” he almost whispered.

  I shook my head, determined to deny what he was saying at all costs. To agree was to set my feet on the road to ruin and certain damnation. I would be lost forever if I gave even an inch.

  He frowned. “If you don't feel it, if what there is between us is so wrong, why do you let me touch you at night? Why do you let me cup your breasts and stroke your nipples?”

  “I…I…” I shook my head again, feeling betrayed. What had been happening between us at night was something we didn't discuss, something I didn't want to discuss. Because as long as we didn't talk about it, it was almost like a dream. And you can't help what you do in dreams, can you? And now Richard wanted to bring it out into the open and make me admit that I let him touch me, fondle me. It was too much.

  Richard saw the denial in my eyes. “Let me prove it to you,” he said softly. “Let me prove that there's something between us. Give me one chance, Rachel, that's all I ask.”

  “Prove it?” I drew back from him mistrustfully. “How?”

  “With a kiss, just one real kiss.” He drew me back into the circle of his arms. “How many boyfriends have you had in your life before Charles, Rachel? How many men in your life before I found you?”

  I looked at him uncertainly, surprised by the change of topic. “Um, a few,” I hedged. “Not many, actually. I was always busy with school or my career, I guess.”

  “And did you give yourself to any of them? Have you given yourself to Charles?”

  I thought of my fiancé's endless groping and his clumsy, too-wet kisses. “No,” I said at last. “No I…I never.”

  “Because you couldn't,” Richard said. “You've been saving yourself; you just didn't know why.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I was saving myself for my wedding night?” I demanded. But the words sounded weak, even to me.

  “When Charles touches you, kisses you, does it arouse you?” Richard looked at me intently, as though everything depended on my answer. With him staring at me that way, I somehow couldn't bring myself to lie.

  “No,” I said, looking away. “No, but that's just because we're not married yet.”

  “Do you really think so?” he demanded. “He's human, Rachel, and you're Amon-kai—the two species are not sexua
lly compatible. Do you think a gold ring to match that ridiculous diamond on your finger is really going to make a difference in how you feel when he touches you?”

  “I don't know, all right?” I flared at him suddenly. He was pushing me into a corner, challenging my very belief in myself, and I couldn't take much more of it. “But it doesn't matter anyway because even if Charles doesn't turn me on, that doesn't change a thing. He's still my fiancé, and we're still going to be married in two weeks.”

  “That's not what you really want.” Richard sounded so sure of himself that I almost believed him.

  “What do you know about what I want?” I glared at him angrily, thinking of all the lost and empty years spent apart. How dare he come back into my life now and try to dictate my actions—my very emotions?

  “I know what you need,” he said quietly, refusing to fight back. “It's the same thing I need, Rachel. Give me one chance to prove it to you—just one real kiss.”

  So we were back to the kissing again. “What do you think you're going to prove by kissing me, Richard?” I demanded. “What do you think you'll gain?”

  “Your heart,” he said simply. “Or at least a chance to win it. Please, Rachel, one kiss isn't so much to ask.”

  “Look who you're asking,” I said, but I could feel myself relenting. If kissing him once would make him abandon this foolish notion, then I supposed I could give it a try. I sighed. “All right—one kiss.”

  “One kiss to prove that my touch moves you—that we need each other,” he clarified. “Like the bets we used to make when we were kids.”

  I wasn't sure how he thought one kiss would prove all that, but I shrugged anyway. “All right, one real kiss. But what are we betting?”

  He smiled, a slow, lazy smile that made my heart bump noisily in my chest. “More kisses of course, if I prove my point. If I don't, I'll move out of your life and leave you alone forever.”

  “Richard,” I protested. “I don't want you out of my life. I just want you to forget this nonsense.”

  “It's not nonsense,” he said. “And it's not a bet I intend to lose. Come here, Rachel. Let me kiss you.”

  Trying to still the beating of my heart, I leaned forward and closed my eyes. Just one kiss, I promised myself. Just one and then I'll put an end to this nonsense. Even when he touched my breasts at night he didn't kiss me—it was going too far, giving too much, I always felt. Now I was determined to be calm and cool while I let him kiss me. I decided I wouldn't react in any way. When it was over he would see how wrong he was and drop all this. Of course, I didn't want him out of my life forever—I loved him too dearly for that. But it would be good to go back to the way things used to be before he'd brought this awkwardness between us.

  “Not like this.” Richard's voice interrupted my train of thought, and I opened my eyes to see him frowning at me.

  “What do you mean? You asked for a—” That was as far as I got before he picked me up and sat me on his lap.

  “Richard!” I protested, pushing against his chest. He had me settled on top of him so that I was straddling his hips. I was still wearing my gray business skirt and my white silk blouse with small pearl buttons, although I had kicked off the gray suede pumps I'd had on earlier. My skirt hiked up to somewhere around my hips, and I found myself pressed hard against the crotch of his faded blue jeans.

  “This is more like it.” He smiled at me, and I understood that he wouldn't let me go until he had gotten his kiss. I tried to settle a little higher up on his thighs, but he pulled me back down to him, cupping my ass in his palms. “Come here,” he whispered.

  Feeling like I was drowning, I relaxed and leaned toward him. One kiss, just one…It became like a mantra in my mind—at least until his lips touched mine. Then the heat that flowed between us wiped out every other thought in my head.

  One real kiss, Richard had said, and I knew what he meant—I would have to give him the access to explore me that I had refused him that first night. What I hadn't counted on was how easy it would be to do just that. His soft, sensual exploration of my lips drew a groan from me, and before I knew it, I had opened my mouth to him with no urging at all.

  He tasted salty—like the soy sauce we had both been eating, but under that was a sweet, spicy taste I couldn't name. Maybe it was just his natural flavor, the taste of the Amon-kai, but I found it completely delicious and utterly addicting. Before I knew it, I was writhing on his lap, the unfamiliar heat raging through my body like a wildfire, out of control. I could feel my nipples hardening into tight, aching points at the tips of my breasts, and between my thighs, my sex felt slippery and swollen—begging for something I had never had but wanted desperately now.

  Richard reached behind me and pulled the clip out of my hair, releasing it from the tight twist I wore it in at court and letting it cascade around my shoulders like a curtain made of silk. He ran his hands through the loosened strands, his lips never leaving my mouth as he kissed me senseless. I could feel the rigid lump of his cock against my inner thighs and I ground myself against him shamelessly, loving the sensation of his thickness parting my damp folds, even through the layers of our clothing.

  All thought of the wrongness of what we were doing was wiped from my mind by the desire that was building in me relentlessly. The only thing I could think of was that I needed more…more of his mouth on mine, more of his hands on my body, and most especially, more of the feel of his hard cock grinding against the soft, slippery heat of my sex. I forgot that the man I was kissing had been raised with me as my brother for the first seven years of my life. I even managed to forget entirely that I was supposed to be married to another man in the next two weeks. There was no room in my thought process at all for anything except the lust Richard was building in me with his hungry, passionate kisses.

  Richard ended the kiss abruptly, pulling away from me and breaking the contact between us.

  “What…why…?” I floundered, still unable to think. I had completely lost myself in the kiss, and losing the sweet feeling of his lips against mine was almost as jarring as though he had dragged me out of a warm bed and poured a bucket of ice water over my head.

  “Tell me that didn't arouse you.” Richard was staring at me intently, still breathing hard from the kiss himself. There was a challenge in his pale green eyes, so exactly like my own, that brought me back to myself.

  What was I doing here, sitting on his lap and kissing him? Never mind the obvious taboo I was breaking, or at least, felt I was breaking despite the lack of actual blood ties between us; there was also the fact that I was engaged to Charles. The vulgar diamond ring on my left hand sparkled at me reproachfully, reminding me of promises I had made, vows I didn't intend to break. And then there was the fact that my mother had warned me so strenuously against ever seeing Richard again—there must be something he wasn't telling me. Something about the Amon-kai that I couldn't remember. But it was hard to focus on any of these things—hard to focus on anything but the needs of my newly-awakened body.

  “Well?” He was still looking at me expectantly.

  “I…no,” I said at last, knowing it was a complete lie, but unable to tell the truth. “No, kissing you didn't, um, didn't arouse me, Richard.” I tried to crawl off his lap, but he wouldn't let me, keeping us pressed together. I was uncomfortably aware that he was still intensely aroused himself—the evidence of it was pressing against the sensitive cleft between my legs.

  “You're lying.” His black eyebrows drew together, but his expression was more one of gentle amusement than anger.

  “I am not,” I denied with quiet intensity. This was something I had learned in the courtroom from observing the defendants I was prosecuting. No matter how blatantly obvious it is that you're lying, doing it softly and vehemently makes your lie seem at least marginally more credible.

  Richard didn't bother getting into a verbal “are not, am too” sparring match of the kind we used to have on the rare occasion we fought when we were children. Instead
he laughed softly, a low, warm chuckle that seemed to pour through me like melted butter. Reaching up, he began unbuttoning my white silk blouse.

  “What do you think you're doing?” I demanded.

  “Proving my point.” He pulled the blouse apart, and I watched, feeling somehow helpless to stop him as he unfastened the front-hook bra I wore and pulled it apart, baring my breasts to him. I had never watched as he did this, never acknowledged it when his hands slipped under my night shirt and stroked my nipples, but now he was forcing me to watch. Forcing me to look while he cupped my naked breasts in his large, warm hands, making me gasp.

  “What about these?” he asked, flicking my hardened nipples lightly with his thumbs. “Why are your nipples hard if you're not aroused?”

  “I…you…” His touch sent fire shooting through my veins, bright sparks of pleasure that seemed to burst inside my chest, making it almost impossible to refute him. But somehow, I knew I had to try.

  “Well?” Richard laughed at me again. He pinched my nipples lightly, his touch on my inflamed flesh making it terribly hard to think.

  “I—I'm cold,” I stuttered, though I felt I was burning up. I wanted to pull away from his touch, but I was powerless to do so—as powerless as I had been to stop kissing him.

  “Rachel,” he said softly. “You're still lying. Don't make me prove it beyond the shadow of a doubt.”

  “I…I don't know what you mean.” He twisted my nipples gently, sending sparks of pleasure straight down to my slippery sex. I knew I ought to stop him, but somehow I just couldn't. Touching Charles had never made me feel like this—my fiancé's hands on my body had never made me feel like I couldn't get a deep enough breath, like my heart was going to pound out of my body. It was a completely new sensation and one I was helpless against.