Vulfen Second's Angel [Vulfen Cadre 3] (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Laina Kenney

  Valeri turned. He had dreamed that sound, had dreamed of pleasuring his mate. Was she dreaming, too? If she had even some of the instincts of a vulfen female, she would be able to sense the nearness of her mate. Perhaps her subconscious understood on some level what his presence could mean. The dreams mates often shared would prepare her mind and body to accept him.

  He went to her and stood by the couch.

  He nuzzled his nose into the folds of the quilt and inhaled.

  Her face was flushed and her scent was delicious. From close up, the scent layers of the sweetness of her warm skin with the underlying hint of creamy feminine spice pulled at him with an almost magnetic intensity.

  He shifted without thinking and sat on the floor by her side. In his eagerness he had forgotten a shirt, but his pants had come through the change.

  He watched his beautiful mate, memorizing her features, the shape of her body, and the light scent of her arousal. She sighed and her legs moved restlessly. He was sure she was having a mate dream, and his body reacted with a jolt.

  One rounded breast, still clothed in the soft T-shirt, was not under the quilt, and he reached out and stroked across the peaked nipple. He wanted to hold it in his hot mouth until it softened and then suck until it sharpened again. He studied her skin tone and wondered if her nipples were the soft-pink of roses or a smooth caramel brown? He wanted to nibble and play with them until they were red and pouting from the attention of his teeth and tongue.

  His blood heated and his body responded to her, cock lengthening and hardening with a slow tingling force. He was ready for her in moments, but as much as he enjoyed the sensation, he knew his body was far ahead of his mate.

  He was weak, but his body was announcing that a near-death experience wasn’t going to stop him from preparing to serve his mate. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. He was more than ready.

  He wanted so much to seduce her, except she had never yet looked at his face and seen anything but fur and fang. It was an impossible situation. His instinct and his unruly cock pushed him in the direction of an instant claiming, while his intellect pulled him the other way.

  Still, he could enhance her dream, share that much with her. It would establish the physical bond between them, and perhaps give her a measure of relief. He could tell from her resistance to the handsome doctor that she was very choosy in her partners, and there was no scent of another male anywhere in her home. If she had any experience of men, it was brief and long ago.

  He lowered his head and breathed in her unique scent before settling back to watch her. He was almost desperate to nuzzle her breasts, to suck them gently through the cloth. She sighed, and her hand rose naturally to rest over her heart. Was she somehow sensing his presence, his lust, or was she reacting to a need she could not acknowledge in her waking state?

  It pleased his deepest instincts to witness her pleasure. Yes, his mate should always have what she liked best. It should always be that way between them. And he would give her all the pleasure that she could handle in one lifetime and then some.

  He wanted her spread beneath him and screaming with pleasure. He wanted to watch his cock slide in and out of her sweet cleft while her soft voice begged him for more. He wanted to do things to her that he had never done with any woman before. He wanted it all.

  Her other hand slid beneath the quilt to pinch and fondle her breast. He could see the little tip of her nipple and his breath came in hard and stayed. He knew his eyes had fired and begun to glow but he held onto his faltering self-control. He wanted to be the one to toy with her flesh, squeezing and teasing until her legs fell apart for him in primal invitation.

  She sighed and moved. One knee drew up and exposed her sweet centre. His breath caught in his throat as her scent flooded through him. She was still asleep, but her body was ripe and begging for his attention. She was offering him everything, and his damned sense of honor wouldn’t allow him to take it.

  Her hand journeyed down farther and slipped under the button on her jeans. Her fingers slid inside the cloth and the zipper opened an inch. His heart pounded in his chest.

  At the first glancing touch her lips pursed and her hips arched up into her hand. She was so moist and ready the scent of her was killing him. His body felt like it was burning from the inside out. It was pure hell to restrain himself when he wanted her more than he could ever recall wanting anything. He had had sex without feeling such a high level of arousal.

  How delicious she was. Her response to such a delicate touch made him wonder how it would be when there were no more secrets between them and he was free to take her fully. His cock leaped, and a bead of sweat rolled down his temple and dropped onto her soft shirt. He shuddered, but his control held.

  Her soft throat was exposed to him. He wanted to bite her, to sink his lengthening fangs into her nape. His fangs were aching as much as his desperate cock.

  She continued the subtle motions of her fingers, torturing her mate with what could be.

  He reached down and stroked over his hard cock once with firm pressure. It was pleasure and agony combined, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was being pushed into a higher state of arousal with every movement of her sweet body. He watched and timed his hand movements to hers until her hips were rising to meet each restrained approach. He tugged on the flared head with every upward pull.

  He wanted to be inside her with her hips pushing up to meet his deep thrusts. He continued to stroke his body to her rhythm, keeping himself on the edge and enjoying the way her body moved. His mate was beautiful in pleasure.

  Sweat broke out on his brow. He wanted to latch his mouth firmly over her nipple and tug with his teeth the way she pulled it with her fingers. She arched and convulsed in front of him with a long moan. Her hand kept up the subtle motions until her body stilled.

  He panted and squeezed the base of his cock. He hadn’t allowed himself a release and he fought a grim battle to keep from tearing off her jeans and sinking full length into the sweet depths of her body. He put his head down and breathed through the agony. After a moment, he shuddered and pulled his hand off his aching cock.

  He raised his head to watch her face. At that moment, her eyelashes fluttered and she looked directly into his eyes.

  Chapter 7

  Angel woke, wanting from a dream so vivid she could still feel the hands and avid mouth of her lover on her aching flesh. For one shocked second the dream image was so strong, she thought she could even see him leaning over her, blue eyes glowing in a handsome face, wide shoulders bare and gleaming with sweat. But when she blinked, the illusion was gone.

  She sighed. She had felt such a strong connection with him in the dream that she felt almost sad knowing that he wasn’t real. She wanted him to be real.

  Her breasts were throbbing, and one nipple was itching. She rubbed it absently and was startled to find her T-shirt wet in spots. Well, it was hot under the blanket, and her dream was a scorcher, but that was still unusual.

  She grimaced. Why she would dream of a hot lover when her only real-life experience of sex was the usual college fumbling was no mystery. Her body was young and healthy, and it wanted something she wasn’t giving.

  She threw off the quilt and sat up, rubbing at her temples. Maybe it was the heaviness of the atmosphere and the coming rain that was making her feel edgy and out of sorts. It sometimes affected her that way, although it felt stronger than usual. Perhaps there would be a wild thunderstorm and she could sit on the porch and watch the rain pour down.

  Her sudden movement must have awakened the dog, because he jumped up from his position on the floor beside the couch. He looked at her with such a serious expression, his eyes so intense, that for a moment… No. No way. Dreams were dreams and didn’t become real. Animals didn’t communicate and give instructions. She had been telling herself that for most of her life.

  She pushed the thought away and straightened her clothes. She got up and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on. She needed a cup
of tea. Well, she could probably do with something a bit stronger, but tea would do.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow pass by the front window, but when she turned, it was gone. She stepped back into the living room intending to check out the front window, but turned again when a crack sounded from the back yard.

  She froze in place, heart pounding.

  The dog was at the back door in two long bounds, stopping with front legs braced, hackles up, and white teeth bared.

  She didn’t know what she expected, maybe barking or growling, but he was utterly silent. It was somehow even more threatening than a loud warning would have been. His ears were back, and all his attention was on the door.

  She looked around frantically, searching for some kind of weapon. Her mind cautioned that it was just a noise, for heaven’s sake, but her stomach was tight and her palms were damp. Even as she tried to convince herself otherwise, the part of her that she didn’t acknowledge knew.

  There was someone out there.

  She stepped back as quietly as she could, edging around until she could grab the heavy iron skillet off the drying rack. The knives were too far away, and she had the strange idea that she didn’t want to pass too close to the dog when he was in hunting mode. She didn’t want to get in his way.

  The back step creaked, and the dog crouched low.

  Angel edged back until the counter dug into her side, and she grabbed the heavy glass paperweight off the windowsill, but she didn’t take her eyes off the door.

  The handle began to turn, and adrenaline flooded through her system in a rushing wave. Her stomach turned over. Time slowed to a crawl.

  Angel didn’t move and neither did the dog, but their eyes met for a second and she had the uncomfortable feeling that he wanted her to stay back. His posture was aggressive, but his gaze on her face seemed caring. She knew he would defend her.

  His eyes focused on the door again just as it began to slide open. Angel swore she could almost smell the acrid scent of the man who wanted to get inside her home.

  A gloved hand appeared around the edge of the door, and the dog moved fast. He grabbed the hand and yanked the startled man into the kitchen, using his swinging body weight to slam the door shut. A long gun skittered across the tile floor to rest against the table legs. Before Angel could even move, the dog had the man down and was braced with teeth at his throat.

  She made a sound of protest. A bite was one thing, but if he killed, they would put him down for sure. She wouldn’t be able to save him from that.

  Something slammed against the front door with a heavy thud. Angel raced to the living room with her frying pan held high just as the door burst open.

  She didn’t have time to wonder what she would do with a glass weight and a frying pan against a man with a gun before his neck was snapped from behind by two large hands, and he fell in a heap on the rug. The gun was halfway under him. The man looked so much smaller lying in an awkward mass that she somehow knew he was dead.

  She wrinkled her nose. He smelled even worse dead than he had when he was alive.

  The man standing behind the body filled the doorway, but didn’t approach. He had a square jaw, shoulder-length black hair, and an immaculate white shirt. He was movie-star handsome, almost too beautiful to be real, but his eyes were glowing black, and his teeth were sharp and pointed.

  She stared. Pointy teeth. Her stomach clenched with fear, and she threw the paperweight with all her strength.

  It bounced off his solid chest and landed with a thunk. He rubbed his chest and started toward her. She shrank back and raised her frying pan.

  At that moment the dog jumped between them and, in a shimmer of swirling light, rose to stand as a man, the man from her dream.

  Angel fell back into the armchair and curled her legs into the chair with her. The frying pan fell on the floor with a ringing sound that echoed strangely in her head. She felt her spirit rise and wondered if she was going to faint.

  It wasn’t real. It must be a nightmare. She was asleep, safe in her bed, and no dogs would turn into men and look down at her.

  The blond man from her dreams bowed to the dark man, who smiled. There was a certain similarity about them, something beyond the broad shoulders and strong facial features. They were related, and it was more than just the fangs.

  “Her aim is good and she did not hesitate,” the dark man said in a gorgeous Eastern European accent. “I like her. Does she know?”

  “She does now.”

  The blond man’s voice was low and vibrant. It matched his gorgeous chiseled face very well. His broad shoulders and defined chest were tanned and his black leather pants clung lovingly to strong thighs. Angel felt a pleasant heat rising in her blood just from looking at him. He was well worth dreaming about, when he wasn’t being a dog.

  It was definitely a dream, a scary and surreal picture of the weird workings of her psyche. It couldn’t be real.

  The blond man reached around to shut the door. He turned out the hall light.

  “I was tracking your blood,” said the dark man. “Your Cadre friends are out as well as your father. When I found your scent, there was so much blood I thought I would find a corpse surrounded by torn human corpses.” His voice was low and serious. “I am gratified to see that I was wrong.”

  “It was too close,” the blond man said. “I have dealt with one enemy tonight, and I can see the second one here, but I know there were three. The stench of their triumph was overwhelming. I am quite sure they thought to find me dead or near to it. Alpha, where is the third intruder?”

  The dark man examined his very long…bloody claws? Angel felt her stomach heave. She stifled a whimper.

  “Miros is bringing the truck.”

  The blond man winced and looked away.

  Bringing the truck? What did that mean? She could tell that the blond didn’t think it was good at all.

  “There is a human at the hospital who carries a trace of your scent. He was difficult to track, but he came here to this house this morning with donuts and an inferior brand of coffee. I would like to speak to him.” The words were casual, but the tone was deadly serious.

  Angel shivered. The dark man might like it if they spoke, but she had a feeling Dr. Novaks wouldn’t like it at all.

  The blond man nodded. “He is a doctor and was one of the attackers. And he was here this morning because he is attracted to this young woman.” White teeth closed with an audible click. “But I believe he is also suspicious of the timing of my escape. The hunting society knows I was injured, and they know I lost a lot of blood, yet I managed to escape in a heavily populated area right when Angel left after her work. I’m sure they are working every angle to locate their prey, and this one is a valid possibility, since it is the truth.”

  “They could not know for sure, or they would have sent more than three men,” the dark man said.

  “But they were suspicious. After their men disappear tonight, they will know. And the weapons they have developed could bring down an elephant. The vulfen people are in danger.”

  The dark man inclined his head in acknowledgement.

  Vulfen. The word echoed in her head. She knew that word from her childhood dreams. Her grandfather had insisted that he was vulfen and that she could be, too. He wanted her to be a magical being like him, but she didn’t want to be like him. Some part of her had feared him even before her chronic nightmares had begun.

  The blond stepped closer to the other man, knelt, and bowed his head low before speaking again.

  “Alpha, when this Angel arrived, I was desperate and planning how to take out as many of them as I could before dying. This woman saved my life.”

  The dark man sucked in a breath, and his eyes flashed. He was tall and strong, but he seemed to expand even further as the flash of his anger somehow filled the small room.

  Angel shrank back in her chair. The strong energy pulsing off him made it very clear he could kill them all without
breaking a sweat. He was that powerful and that angry.

  “Then we are greatly in her debt, cousin.”

  He helped the other man to his feet and bowed to her. His black eyes had such a kind expression in them that she could hardly credit it.

  A moment ago, she wouldn’t have been surprised if he had torn the house down a brick at a time. His anger had been like another presence in the room. Now this demonstration of control and a whiplash change in mood. She was having a hard time keeping up.

  The dark man and the blond held each other’s shoulders for a moment. Apparently it was a family resemblance that Angel could see. The blond wasn’t quite so tall, but he was equally muscular, and the same kind of strength was in him. She didn’t know how she knew it, but he was a protector, a leader, and comfortable in the position. It was inevitable that people young and old would lean on that strength.

  Tears welled up in Angel’s eyes. The two men were having a calm conversation, as if life was normal for them, but it didn’t seem normal to her. It was as if they fought and killed every day, needing a truck to clean up dead bodies every day.

  “Alpha, there is another man who hunted me but did not come here tonight. And there may be more. They shot me as a wolf. They were at the Bay entrance of the southern hunting grounds when they ambushed me. They have powerful guns and two off-road vehicles with spotlights. Angel kept one of their special bullets, the one she pulled from my flesh. I believe they knew or suspected what they were dealing with and came after me deliberately.”

  Angel shook her head involuntarily. How could anyone know that a dog—wolf—would stand up and become a man who just started having a conversation? It was a nightmare come to life.

  It was impossible. Her mother had been very clear about that. Men did not become wolves, she had assured her terrified daughter, but the nightmares had continued until finally her mother had left the lights on and armed her daughter with a flashlight and a bowie knife. Only then had she slept.

  Light was the only thing that worked for Angel to chase away the lingering fear. She still slept with the lights on if she was stressed, but no amount of light was going to help with the current situation.