After dressing, she grabbed a bite to eat and re-examined the edgy feeling. Her chest tightened and her heart pounded harder. Every cell seemed to be responding to something—a call, a pull toward…what? She didn’t know.
The nurse within her looked for the explanation, demanded it. Do I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder? Depression? Anxiety?
Christina rifled through the symptoms and dismissed each diagnosis. No, this wasn’t mental. Perhaps it was simply fatigue from too many stressful events, like the accident and the extra things she’d had to do as a result.
But my To-Do list is complete. So why do I feel like I could crawl out of my skin?
She pushed from the table and took her plate to the sink. The sun warmed her face through the window, but even that did nothing to ease the achiness.
“Maybe a workout will help,” murmured Christina to the house plants sitting on the windowsill. She dried her hands and went to her room to change into a black sports bra and matching athletic shorts. She laced her running shoes and grabbed a bottle of water, then went to get the one thing she never ran without—a book. Christina walked into her closet where a bookcase stood tall, containing a stash of her secret obsession—paranormal romance novels. She perused the titles one by one trying to decide which she could become lost in while she ran. Her fingers caressed the spines with a lover’s touch, slowly and with reverence, until she found what she sought.
She took out one of her steamier novels and, after a stretch to wake her muscles, she mounted the treadmill. As she read, the book came to life, and Christina quickly lost herself to the fictional world of fantasy lovers. Her feet pounded the belt while her rhythm increased to a hard run, but Christina didn’t notice. In her fictional world, she watched the lovers come together as one after fighting adversity. Her eyes flew along the words, eating up the pages.
Once she finished the steamy chapter, she became aware once again of her body and looked down at the sweat glistening on her arms. Her breath rasped from her lungs in hard puffs, and her pace slowed to a fast walk.
Is it the running or the book that has taken my breath away? Christina thought wryly. With a smile, she wiped the perspiration from her face and neck.
She stopped after completing four miles, her muscles tired but her spirit invigorated. While she cooled off in front of the open window, she noticed the sun had begun to set, leaving its pinkish-orange hues in the sky. The moon gave chase, so bright the glow of the setting sun did not diminish its light.
What a gorgeous full moon. Christina forced herself away from the beautiful sight and headed to her bathroom for a quick shower.
Her bathroom typified the rest of her apartment—small and efficient. Everything was neat and orderly in the white room that contained a tiny sink, toilet and shower-tub combo.
Christina slid the pink, flower-print shower curtain aside and turned on the water. While it heated, she rubbed her hands up and down her arms in a vain attempt to massage away the uncomfortable tingle under her skin. Her stomach knotted once more as the achiness and longing returned—the respite offered from her run now over.
She stepped into the shower, with hopes the water would wash the torment down the drain. But it only strengthened as the hot water rained down on her. And now the tingling brought a friend to the party in Christina’s body. Her body came alive, hypersensitive. Her feminine channel throbbed between her legs. Heat pooled in her core. Moist heat ran down her thighs. She felt needy, wanton. The water touched her like a thousand tongues licking her sensitive body. It drove her wild. She turned, letting the spray hit her back, hoping to relieve the pressure on her breasts. She quickly soaped her body and shampooed her hair, each drop torture.
She turned off the water and began to dry off with a pink fluffy towel, the soft terrycloth not helping the building passion. The longing overwhelmed her. She needed a diversion.
Man, I am so uptight. A drive around the city might just do some good. Maybe I’ll go get something to eat.
She chose her clothes carefully, though not exactly sure why it mattered. She tried on a pair of khaki Capri pants with a black shirt but quickly discarded them, when she realized they didn’t seem special enough. Next she tried on a celebrity-endorsed sweatsuit, but she didn’t want that either. As she put on her favorite pair of black skinny jeans and a green wraparound top, she knew she found her bliss. She twirled in front of the full-length mirror attached to the back of her bedroom door and approved of what she saw.
She brushed her thick hair, did her makeup, and checked herself one last time in the mirror before she grabbed the keys to her rental car. Exiting the front door, she turned the key in the dead bolt and went down the stairs to her nondescript Ford parked on the street where she’d left it.
The engine came to life, and Christina took off. Like a sailor drawn by the song of a siren, a compulsion drove her. Unsure where she headed, Christina darted through the city. Her stomach rumbled, but she pushed down the hunger, the need to continue driving foremost in her mind. A left turn here and a right there, seemingly lost in thought, she drove. Christina looked around in disbelief when she found herself on the outskirts of town.
Her gaze swept the sides of the street. Everything looked right, felt right for some inexplicable reason. She slowed the car when she came upon a wrought-iron fence. This place seemed special, as if something waited for her behind that fence. She knew it, felt it. She pulled over and parked the car. As she opened the door, the smells of the crisp night air, the combination of freshly cut grass, oak trees, and misty rain greeted her.
The houses were an impressive distance apart here, most of them mansions on large expanses of land. The dark street welcomed her, with a soft glow on the pavement created by the few streetlights that stood watch on either side. As Christina meandered down the deserted street, she felt strangely comforted, as if she found something she’d lost long ago. The need within softened, the ache soothed.
****
Marcus sat at the large mahogany desk in his office. Much as he had done throughout the day, the Alpha became still as stone and closed his eyes. He allowed his senses to flare outward, mentally visualizing the city as he did so. As his mind searched for the one he desired, he sent out a mental command. Christina, I need you. You must come to me, tonight. You must find me. We belong together. I can wait for you no longer. Come to me.
Sensing nothing, Marcus banged his fist on the desktop. As he glanced down on the paperwork for one of the many charities he had started, he thought only of Christina. His Christina. He had not had any luck summoning her, his desperation making it impossible for him to concentrate. He needed to come up with another way to find her.
I need some fresh air, he thought as he stood and crossed the room to the window. Opening it wide, Marcus took in the cool night with a deep breath. He placed his hands on the window ledge, letting the sill bear his weight. He hung his head low. His eyes closed.
Oh Christina, how am I ever going to find you? Marcus drew his fingers through his thick hair. The breeze carried the softness of jasmine and honey. His eyes snapped open as his head darted up. He drew in a super-sized breath, taking the amazing scent deep into his lungs. Marcus’ dark brown eyes went wide as realization came to him.
It’s impossible. It can’t be. He drew another deep breath, filling his body with the allure of his heartmate. It’s got to be. Nothing else smells like her.
Marcus grabbed his coat.
Chapter 6
Christina ran her hand along the iron fencing wondering why she’d been drawn here. Her gaze focused past the iron bars to the trees that lined a long gravel driveway. She imagined a beautiful house lay beyond those magnificent live oaks, which stood like sentries along the drive. An overwhelming need to enter the house pulled her.
Okay, Christina, get a grip woman. You don’t know who lives here. Maybe I bumped my head in the accident. Christina pulled her thick hair back from her face. Yeah, an MRI might not be a bad idea. I should ge
t myself to the hospital, STAT.
Christina turned to leave and ran into a mountain of immovable muscle. A small squeak of surprise escaped her throat. She looked up into the face of the mountain. His beautiful mouth turned into a smirk as he said, “Imagine running into you like this.”
He’s smooth. Christina stepped back. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” He took in the expansive estate with a sweep of his arm. “What’s your excuse?”
Waves of heat came off his body. They flowed around her, enveloping her like a blanket. Her stomach knotted, and her core clenched in response to his nearness. Christina stammered, “I-I was just out for a drive and… I don’t know, felt compelled to stop.”
“You were fondling my fence. Perhaps you’d like to come inside.”
“I don’t think so. I don’t even know your name.”
“I can fix that. My name is Marcus. Marcus Botticelli.” His disarming smile took her breath away as he stuck out his hand.
Christina gave his hand a friendly shake. “I’m Christina Prescott,” she said, before her fingers released their grip.
Marcus retained her hand in his, as if enjoying the feel of her skin against his. “I remember. So now that we have been properly introduced, would you like to come in?”
Christina hesitated. “Um…I’m not sure I should.” She pulled her fingers from his grasp, unsure if she felt relieved or saddened by the fact he allowed their escape this time.
“Come on.” Marcus lifted his arms, holding them out from his sides in a gesture to show he meant no harm. “What can it hurt? I saved your life, after all. Please come in. We could have a drink together. It could be your way of thanking me.”
“You did save my life,” Christina said, giving an insouciant shrug that sent her crimson hair flowing over her shoulders. Surely a man who had put his own life in danger saving others could be trusted. His kind, mesmerizing eyes captured hers, and she seemed to fall into his dark chocolate gaze. Yummy. “Okay…maybe just one drink, then I have to go.”
He opened the tall iron gate for her. Its groan sent an involuntary shiver down Christina’s spine.
Noticing her reaction, Marcus said, “Sorry about that. It’s a terrible sound, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Christina murmured not knowing if she trembled from the sound or from the sense she was walking into something that would change her life forever.
As they strolled up the gravel driveway, Christina took in the surroundings. She noticed the way the oak trees lined the drive like an archway. The branches stretched overhead, folding together as if they were Marines at a wedding, creating the military sword arch for a bride and groom. The Spanish moss hung from the branches and swayed in the breeze like veils of tulle. Overcome by the sentiment, Christina looped an arm through Marcus’, then immediately chastised herself for the silly thoughts and brazen behavior.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.” Christina glanced at Marcus, noticing how her five-foot-five-inch frame felt dwarfed by his size.
His hand closed over her fingers as he bent his elbow. The breeze carried his scent, wrapping her in its delicious smell. She wanted to get lost in him. Whoa, where had that come from? Christina’s mind wandered in unusual directions as they walked. Swallowing hard, she forced her feet forward.
“What can’t you believe you are doing? Coming to a stranger’s house? That’s the most sensible thing a person could do.” Marcus looked at Christina and smiled, barely flashing his perfect teeth.
She shook her head. “My father would kill me for doing something like this. He always said I trusted people too easily.”
“I must agree with your father.” Marcus glanced at her. Her look of surprise brought a wry grin to his handsome face. “Usually I wouldn’t advise you to go off with a stranger. But I know me, and I’m okay. I promise I won’t bite.”
Christina pulled her hand from his arm to wrap her arms around herself in a bracing hug. “I’ve always been a good judge of character. I listen to my instincts, and they’ve gotten me this far safe and sound.”
His smile slipped from his face. “What do your instincts tell you about me?” Marcus removed his coat and draped it around Christina’s shoulders, his eyes searching hers.
She grabbed the lapels then snuggled into it, drawing it closed not to ward off the chill in the air but to engulf herself in the masculine smell of Marcus. Christina examined her instincts about the man beside her before she replied.
“My instincts tell me that I don’t need to worry about being around the man who saved my life.”
A warm smile that reached the corners of his beautiful eyes rewarded her comment.
When they came upon Marcus’ house, Christina’s eyes widened. White wood siding enveloped the home, and green shutters framed each window. A wraparound porch, which matched the siding, housed several wicker rockers and settees. Six large columns supported a second floor balcony that ran the length of the front of the home. A set of wooden stairs led to the entry doors and completed the picturesque scene, adding to the charm of the plantation house.
Marcus ascended the stairs and grabbed one of the oak doors. As Christina stepped onto the porch from the top step, she noticed something out of the corner of her eye. Pivoting toward the sight, she glanced at the ceiling of the porch. The black winged creature let go of its perch and plunged into the night over Christina’s head.
Startled by the animal, another small squeal of surprise sounded from her lips, and she stepped back. Her foot met air, sending her flying backward. Her arms flailed wildly in the air and sought purchase where there was none to be found. Suddenly two strong arms swept her up. Marcus’ bulging biceps and large forearms encased her petite frame.
“You made that adorable noise again.” He flashed a sexy, heart-melting smile.
He thinks my squeal is adorable. Christina lay pliant in his arms.
He lifted one eyebrow and the side of his mouth into a smirk. “I might just have to keep startling you, so I can keep hearing that cute noise.”
“If I see another bat, you’ll hear that noise again.”
“Who, Barney? He’s my attack bat.”
“You keep bats?” Her eyes went wide, and Marcus chuckled.
“I’m just teasing. I do not keep bats. However, if one wants to visit and make a meal out of some of the insects around this place, I’m all for it. Let’s get inside before he returns.”
Marcus bounded up the stairs to his home and took her inside. The door closed behind them with a soft click. Christina felt a moment of unease but quickly pushed it aside. Must be an automatic door.
The sight greeting her eyes impressed her even more than the scene outside. They were in a grand foyer. To the right an opening invited people into a formal living room, while to the left a set of French doors beckoned friends to a sitting room. Crown molding encircled the top of the white plaster walls. Mirroring each other, on opposite walls, were two original Mort Kunstler paintings of the Civil War. Dark hardwood flooring, covered with an oriental rug, led straight toward a large staircase that wound its way up to the second floor.
It took Christina several minutes to take in all the beautiful sights the home offered.
And this is just the foyer. The thought pulled her from her perusal, and she realized Marcus still held her in his strong arms. The heat from his body sent a flare of desire coursing through her blood.
Color crept up her neck to heat her cheeks as she discovered he had been intently watching her. The hungry look in those eyes stole her breath.
“Um…you can put me down now,” Christina whispered with a smile. “Or do you plan on holding me all night?”
“The thought crossed my mind.” Returning her smile, Marcus released her legs so her body slowly slid down his. Her heartbeat raced in her chest and her breathing increased, causing her breasts to gently graze his chest with each inhale as they stood toe to toe.
“Thank you.” Christina turned out of h
is grasp. He seemed reluctant to let her go as he slid his hands from her shoulders, down her arms and over her hands.
His long gait took him past her as they walked. He opened the partially closed French doors to his sitting room with a gallant sweep of his arm. “Entrez, mademoiselle.”
“Parlez-vous français, monsieur?”
“Yes, I speak French. Et vous?”
Walking into the impressive room, Christina answered, “Me? No, I took a couple of years of high school French, but that was it. Merci beaucoup and voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir is about all I remember now.” She giggled then placed her hand demurely over her mouth.
Coming up behind her, Marcus whispered into her ear in a low, husky voice. “Those are the only two phrases I need to hear.”
Without looking at him, she stepped away before her body took control and turned her into his warmth. Acutely aware of him, she felt his gaze on her while she crossed the room. Christina blushed and feigned interest in the wet bar she saw in the corner. “How about that drink you offered?”
Marcus licked his lips. The act sent a shiver through her body to her core. “You have no idea how much I’d like a good drink right now. Something red.”
“How about this Merlot?” Christina picked up a bottle and held it for his inspection.
“Sticking with the French theme, I see. That’s a perfect choice. I’ll get the glasses.”
While Marcus busied himself getting their drinks, Christina took in the room. In the large sitting area, the parquet floor was partially covered by another oriental rug and a set of matching, striped Louis XIV chairs faced the fireplace whose mantel was adorned with gold leaf.
Marcus hoped Christina approved of his home. She certainly seemed to be taking it all in. Of course, if she found anything lacking, he would see to it that it was fixed to her liking immediately. He had spent a small fortune renovating the place and kept it well-stocked in the event visitors dropped by.
Deadly Alpha Page 3