“You worried about the ceremony or just getting it done?” Stanislav asked in a brusque tone.
“Getting it done.” It was what Evan would want. He’d never been much on ceremony or tradition. He’d been tapping his foot and inching toward the door with the last Guild member they’d processed together.
The consultant produced a small, black bottle from the folds of his long overcoat and removed the stopper. He splashed what appeared to be oil on Evan’s body with three flicks of his wrist. Supernatural fire incinerated flesh, blood and bone, reaching out in a hungry spiral to destroy any trace of Evan Van Brunt.
A lone wolf howled, his song echoing around them.
Stanislav turned sharply, his stance one of a warrior, and those cold eyes scanned the landscape of the night. “The other officers are gone. Well secured against the beasts. You should go, Officer Marijka Zolinski.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you answer a few questions.”
A chorus of answering howls reverberated in the dark like a choir from hell.
“You should be inside,” he reiterated slowly. His blue-black eyes reflected nothing, only a deeper Abyss, a dark so cold and endless the chill stabbed into her bones with a thousand needles. “They’re coming for him.”
“There’s nothing for them to claim.” Marijka refused to be cowed by him and refused to acknowledge the fear that snapped in electric currents as the howls grew louder. It was a tactic designed to to foster terror and immobilize their prey.
She shuddered involuntarily. Marijka hated werewolves. Their howls terrified her and resurrected memories of her mother’s mutilated body
“Yet still they come, malenkaya.” His voice was smooth, like dark chocolate and silk.
Her survival instincts screamed at her to take shelter, but her pride was louder. “And here I stand,” she said, a fiery defiance of him and them burning in her gut.
“Is this really where you want to turn and make your stand? Alone against a rogue pack?”
A pack? She gritted her teeth and blinked hard as she swallowed her fear. “No,” she acknowledged. “But I’m not running.” Marijka had sworn she’d never run from a werewolf. She’d never surrender to her fear and if that meant another officer would be processing her body here where she’d said goodbye to Evan, then so be it.
“No one asked you to run. Only to come to the inn with me where there will be hot vodka with honey, warm cream biscuits with salted butter and where we may talk of the business of the day.” He spoke gently, as if to a wounded beast, his accent more pronounced—his Russian heritage more obvious in his speech patterns.
The words wrapped around her like velvet, soft and seductive, drew quaint images of large fires and soft light, the comfort of tradition, hot food and safety, and slipped inside of her to caress secret desires and guided her to follow his commands. She pushed again with her metal shields, but realized this was no magic, no telepathy. It was the innate power in his voice, the supernatural charisma of an Alpha male.
Marijka wondered again what he was and more importantly, who he was to the Aeternali. He was more than a consultant, more than what he portrayed himself to be. An ageless, eternal power thrummed through him and it resonated with her own.
“And you will answer my questions, Luka Stanislav?” she asked, doubtful. Marijka wasn’t sure she wanted to be in his company. He was dangerous.
“Yes, I will answer your questions. As best as I may.”
“Always a catch with the Aeternali, isn’t there?”
“As there must be,” he admitted with a boyish smirk and halfhearted shrug. When she still hesitated, he spoke again. “A female so lovely shouldn’t be unescorted in Aynkava. Even if you are an officer of the Guild. There are many dangerous males who would have no respect for your title.”
True, but they would respect her Evil Eye and the mark of Baba Zoranna she wore in the tattoo on the back of her neck. There was no power more potent than gypsy magic and she used it with the same precision as she did her 9mm.
“And you? You’re not a dangerous male?” The air around them changed as soon as she spoke...became heavy.
He laughed, the sound rich and decadent. Its resonance sent shivers through her body and centered deep in her core where lust sparked and burned.
“Oh, malenkaya. I am.” His cold gaze was suddenly hot, raking over every inch of her as if she belonged to him. “The most dangerous in Aynkava.”
She’d heard those lines before, males puffed up like blowfish on their own reputations. As if she were some mortal woman afraid of the crawling things in the dark and not a cop who’d been into the Abyss and clawed her way out for her Guild badge. Yet, with Luka Stanislav, she believed every word from his granite-carved mouth.
It made her wet.
Marijka knew part of it was the adrenaline, the rush of being alive when surrounded by death and the fear coursing through her veins as the coming pack signaled their descent onto the small village. Her analytical mind told her this was nothing but a chemical reaction, one she could overlook and put from her mind as soon as she parted company with the handsome Luka Stanislav.
But she didn’t want to put it from her head. What Marijka did want was a few hours of mindless pleasure, of touch. Some connection with another living being, even if it were no deeper than a one-time fuck in the upstairs of a quaint country inn with honeyed vodka on her breath.
“If you’re so dangerous, wouldn’t I be better off on my own?” She cast a quick glance over her shoulder and knew there was something there...watching, waiting. Something hungry. Part of her wanted to run, but part of her wanted to stay, too, because leaving with him was a retreat.
“Perhaps. That is your choice to make.” He shrugged again as if it mattered little to him either way, but Marijka watched his eyes flash from frigid indifference to languid heat. “Although I suggest whatever you choose, you do it quickly.”
“The inn,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
He held out her hand to her, his tanned fingers large and broad. “Then take my hand to mark your choice.”
To show those who were watching she was with him. Under his protection. Dear God, who was he that a pack of werewolves feared to attack him?
Marijka thrust her hand into his and he led her casually down the cobbled street, as if the beasts slavering for their blood in the dark behind them meant nothing.
Chapter Three
The picturesque inn was all Luka Stanislav promised it would be. A roaring fire blazed in a central hearth, casting orange and yellow shadows like dancing sprites across the scarred and battered wooden floor. The warm, homey smell of freshly baked biscuits and the hearty barley seasoning of a simmering stew filled the air. Small carafes of what she assumed to be the famous honey vodka sat on brightly painted ceramic candle warmers on each table and a grandmotherly woman was at the door to greet them.
She wore a bright red apron, elegantly embroidered with dragons in greens, blues and purples over a modest black peasant blouse and long skirt. Her white hair was pulled into a loose bun at the top of her head and fey flyaway wisps framed her rounded face. Small, delicate rosebud pink lips curved in a smile when she saw them and genuine pleasure lit her face with a slight blush.
“Luka!” she greeted in English.
“Magda,” he replied kissing both her powdered cheeks in return.
“You have come for the stew, I know this.” She nodded. “And you must have some honey vodka.” Magda led them to a table and Stanislav pulled Marijka’s chair out for her.
Magda beamed like a proud mother. “He is a good boy, my Luka?” she said to Marijka.
“Yes, a gentleman.” Marijka couldn’t imagine anyone calling this beast of a man a boy. Let alone a good boy. As if he were some child who’d brought home good marks and carried groceries for an old woman.
“Stew for you, too. You’re too skinny, vnucka.”
The word for granddaughter immediately made her homesick for B
aba Zoranna and Marijka was putty in her strong hands. “Yes, babicka,” she said, addressing her as grandmother as a sign of respect. Magda rewarded her with a broad smile and left to get their food.
This little inn—only blocks away from the horror of her dead partner, mutating viruses and slavering wolves—was a haven. It was as if nothing could breach those stone walls and touch her here. The warmth of tradition and comfort of the familiar things of her childhood were a strange armor.
Marijka exhaled a heavy breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.
“You are safe here. No rogue wolf can pass through these walls. I swear this.” He poured her a shot of the vodka and pushed it toward her, his eyes sincere.
Their fingers brushed as she accepted the liquid fortification and Marijka swore she could actually see the flicker of molten gold when their fingertips sparked against each other. The heat that shot through her at the contact was hotter than any fire.
“How do you know this?”
He laughed, a low, rich sound.
“Because the inn is empty.”
The hand holding the warm vodka trembled and she downed the elixir. What was left unsaid terrified her more that the words he spoke. Marijka wanted to be very sure she understood exactly what he meant. “Meaning?”
“There are no townspeople here. There were none on the streets but the police and they left soon after we arrived. The infection has spread, Marijka Zolinski. The butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker all run beneath the moon tonight. They all dine on flesh—and if you hadn’t come with me, it would have been your flesh for their meal.”
She slammed the glass down on the table. “And you couldn’t have told me that?” Marijka hissed.
Luka shrugged. “No, I couldn’t. It is the law you must ask for my protection of your own free will.”
“Whose law?”
“The Aeternali—the Great Treaty.” He said this as if it were something she should already know.
“How do you know there’s infection here? Is it only this strain of lycanthropy, or the CJD?”
“It’s what I was sent to investigate. They don’t all change under the moon. Some change and some are like the walking dead with bloodshot eyes and slavering human mouths, though their bite is infectious all the same. Even to other werewolves.”
“Is Magda immune?” Marijka asked carefully.
“She is...” He trailed off and shrugged again. “Magda is something different. She is safe.”
A lone howl sounded outside the inn door and Marijka closed her eyes and clenched her teeth. She poured herself another shot and downed it. The warmed vodka was sweet from the honey and went down easy—smooth like Tennessee whiskey.
Until one howl merged into many and she heard the demonic chorus from earlier. The wolves were inside the town limits. Bolder than any other pack, but Marijka supposed when the entire town was infected they didn’t have to hide.
If the infection were like this here, what was she going to find in Ostrava? What had Evan thought he would find? In his last message, he’d said the answers would be in Ostrava.
“Are you afraid, Marijka Zolinski?” He watched her, his eyes suddenly bright. “They can smell the stench of it on you. Even through these stone walls.”
Marijka narrowed her eyes at him, there was a certain knowledge—an excitement in his tone. It was in the strange light in his eyes and the tension of his body. She jumped back from her chair, drew her 9mm and aimed it at his chest. “Don’t fuck with me, Stanislav. Aeternali or no, I’ll blow a hole in your chest so wide even their necromancers won’t be able to stitch you back together.”
A slow smirk curved his mouth and he laid his palms flat on the table where she could see them. “Malenkaya, I promised you were safe with me. I am an enforcer for the Aeternali. Why shouldn’t the prospect of a fight heat my blood?”
“Stop calling me that,” she snapped.
“Why? Next to me, you are little one,” he said, his accent thicker. The smirk grew.
“Next to you, a wooly mammoth would be little one.” She holstered her gun but didn’t sit back down.
He nodded carelessly. “Perhaps.” Then all pretense of civility was gone as he stood and in its place was the Alpha male. His very presence made it hard to breathe. “And perhaps I should take you upstairs, Marijka Zolinski, and I should make you forget all about the wolves and the virus. Forget everything but me.”
A shiver of delight curled behind the fear, making her hot. A blush suffused her cheeks, and she thought of all the things he could do to her to make her forget. All the reasons she wanted to forget.
And all the reasons why she couldn’t.
She’d been propositioned a hundred times over, but no male had moved her like this one did. He was bold, confident, and his advances weren’t unwelcome.
He raked his hard gaze over her once more. “I can sense your desire just as they sense your fear. What’s it to be, Gypsy girl?” He yanked her against him roughly and the heat of his hands on her skin was a brand. “A night of fear waiting out rabid dogs in a hard wooden chair or a night of pleasure in front of a warm fire with the taste of honey and my kiss on your lips?”
“I suppose those lines get you laid a lot, enforcer?” Although, her retort lost its sting when she didn’t push him away. Instead, she licked her lips, imagining his mouth on hers, him naked in the firelight and intent on her pleasure.
He leaned in, his sinful mouth so close to giving her the kiss she craved. “I suppose they would. But I don’t need pretty words or soft lies. If you do not want it, say no and we’ll be about our business of eating, of waiting. It is your choice, just as it was in the alley. Come with me, or do not come. It is up to you.” Luka lifted one of her dark curls slowly and it wrapped around his finger, clinging to him as she longed to do.
Marijka caught the double entendre. There were a million reasons to say no and only one to say yes. But that one reason trumped them all; she wanted Luka Stanislav. In that moment, she wanted his hands and mouth on her more than she wanted anything else.
“And what is your punishment if you don’t make me forget, Stanislav?” Marijka braced her palms on his powerful shoulders, the fine weave of his handmade shirt smooth beneath her fingers.
Luka looked up from where he studied that errant curl. He splayed his hand wide on the small of her back and scraped his lightly stubbled cheek against hers to whisper in her ear. “Then I will be at your mercy, Officer Zolinski.”
Marijka had trouble imagining him being at anyone’s mercy, but the idea of mastering him fueled the burn between her thighs. “Be careful what you offer. You may find yourself Gypsy-cursed,” she whispered against the corner of his mouth.
“Alternatively, I may find myself Gypsy-blessed when you’re screaming my name, pretty Marijka. Baptized by the fire I know burns between those thighs.”
She despised his arrogance, but knew intrinsically it was something more than Alpha posturing. He’d do everything he promised and she’d love every minute of it.
But Marijka couldn’t let him out match her. She was just as formidable. “Are you going to bark all night or bite, enforcer?”
A low growl began in the back of his throat and she wondered for a moment if she’d pushed him too far—if she were about to see exactly what kind of beast lurked beneath his skin. The heat coming off him was blistering and her anticipation was like a fine red wine, sweet with dark notes of fear and lust.
His teeth raked over the tender place between her neck and her shoulder and he bit down, just as she’d demanded. She pushed her fingers through his hair, but guided him closer rather than away. Knees weak, she melted against him. His mouth scorched her as he suckled where he’d bitten. The sensation shot stabs of pleasure straight to her clit.
Luka lifted her easily and she locked her legs around his waist. He braced one forearm beneath her ass and his other anchored her against his chest as he headed for the stairs. Marijka bit him back in the same pla
ce he’d bitten her, her blunt teeth marking him.
Another growl issued from deep in his chest and it was a powerful rush to know she’d forced him to betray just that tiny bit of his human veneer. She wondered what it would take to make him shed it completely and what she’d find beneath. Marijka bit him again, this time on his neck, and his grip on her tightened.
“You play with fire,” he said in a voice reverberating with power.
“And I’m burning in it, Luka.”
He took her mouth hard, but his kiss held no tenderness, no soft seduction. It was all blatant claiming and primal lust. He tasted of things she didn’t know could be in a kiss—the taste of scents and visions, things she never imagined would be so sweet. The dark, loamy earth, the crystal chill of moonlight on water, and the very night itself.
Luka kicked a door open and rather than putting her down on the bed, she found herself braced against the wall. He made quick work of her tailored silk blouse and the lace cups of her bra—tore them from her and freed her breasts for his attention. Luka bent his head and took one pebbled nipple into his mouth. He raked his teeth lightly over the sensitive bud just as he’d done at her neck, and then sucked and licked the puckered flesh.
Every flick of his tongue sent waves of carnal bliss careening through her and as the howls echoed again through the darkness, Marijka found she didn’t care. Nothing mattered at this moment but having Luka Stanislav inside her.
She tore at the buttons of his shirt, desperate to have more of his warm, golden skin, and she pushed the material over the wide expanse of his shoulders where she saw five scars that ran from his shoulder down across to his torso to his hip. It looked as if he’d ripped open by some kind of beast.
He lifted his head to meet her eyes and Marijka spread her palm wide and her hand couldn’t come anywhere near covering the edges of the scar. Her first thought was werewolf, but then he’d be infected. He’d be running the night with them, not here in this room with her.
“Are they ugly to you, Marijka?” he asked as he carried her to the bed, still licking at her neck.
Claimed by the Alpha Page 2