“We’re going to walk for a while. I’ll be right back.”
Genevieve stepped closer to the fire and held her hands over it, rubbing them together. A way to break the curse! Maybe. Hallmar did say Belise was fairly crazy. She could have given him a pack of lies. But why would she? If she didn’t want to tell the truth she could have said nothing.
What would breaking the wretched family curse involve? Not anything too gruesome. Please. With any luck, Belise really did regret the harm she’d caused and still had enough brain cells left to pass on useful information to Hallmar. And if the gods and goddesses decided to smile on her still further, Hallmar had managed to take coherent notes and would be able to find them.
Too wound up to sit still, Gen walked around the fire. The walk turned into a skip, the skip to a dance. Humming, she remembered days past when she and her friends would kick up their heels and dance all night. Sometimes outdoors for ceremonies with drummers setting the rhythm, sometimes at the bars for fun with a local band pounding out a beat. Anything to move her body. When with a date, she almost always coerced him into joining her on the dance floor so she could rub her body against his when they played a song with a sensual tempo. Those evenings generally ended with hot, sweaty sex.
When had she stopped enjoying this delicious pleasure? It had been a long time since she’d danced. When she’d moved to this area, she’d checked out a large coven nearby and occasionally attended events but declined to join. After a disastrous attempt at becoming a member of one during her college years, she had no desire to repeat that humiliating experience. Her cheeks still burned when she remembered the looks of pity and horror on the coven members’ faces as she’s naively blathered on about her family curse. After three meetings, it was obvious she’d be viewed as an outcast and would never be considered a true member of the group. She’d flipped them all a double-handed bird when she’d stormed out of the last meeting.
With the heat of the fire warming her, Gen took off her jacket and flung it to the side. This secluded area would be a great place to visit in the spring. Maybe see if she could talk the wolves into partying sky clad. Dancing bare-ass naked was the most fun. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? Lost in thought, she nearly tripped when she caught sight of Vincent, standing near the tree line, watching her.
“Shit. Don’t sneak up on me.”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. Keep dancing. I like it.”
“I’m just moving around to stay warm.” Gen went back to the log and sat. Great. Nothing like having your date catch you dancing like no one is watching. “What was that all about, you and Hallmar?”
Vincent put another log on the fire. “He’s practicing communicating with humans while in wolf form. Trying to get it so we can understand each other when one is shifted and the other not.”
“Is it working?”
“A little.” Vincent sat next to her.
“Is he okay out there, all by himself? He wasn’t moving too well.”
“He’s fine. Hallmar has his good days and bad days. Once he turns to wolf he’s a lot more agile.”
“Doesn’t smoking…whatever he had in his pipe throw him off? A stoned werewolf running around isn’t the best idea, is it?”
Vincent laughed. “Nah, he’s ingested so many herbs, pills, and everything in between…he knows what he’s doing.”
“Do you change to wolf so fast? One minute he stood right here and the next he was on all fours.”
“Hallmar has had a lot of practice. He’s been shifting for years and part of his journey is finding better ways to do it. While he’s here, he wants to talk to Morgan about her protocol. Some wolves have a hard time with their change, and if Morgan’s Peaceful Soul stuff can make the transition smoother, we’ll want to check it out.”
They both watched the fire for another few minutes. Gen leaned into Vincent and rested her head on his shoulder. Even this brief contact with his body set her pulse racing.
“The ceremony went okay, you said? Tell me about it.”
“It was brief. We had a low turnout, like I thought. Lots of the pack members are angry with Michael, pissed off because he killed himself. Those that were here kept it short, just talked about the good stuff. He was a great kid. Got along well with everyone, in a good mood most of the time.” Vincent threw a stick on the fire. “Leidolf took his body back for cremation, and his sister will take care of family matters. Pretty much all wrapped up.”
“Not to sound harsh, but I would think finding yourself in that situation, you know, suddenly you’re a wild animal once a month, might be kind of depressing and tend to lead to more instances of suicide.”
“It is a big shock to most people, so we try to find new weres right after they’re made and help them acclimate. It’s why we have pack.”
“Find them how?”
Vincent looked into the fire and Gen couldn’t see his face full-on, but didn’t hear a warning tone in his voice that told her she pushed too far with her questions.
“Pack leaders keep track of what their members are doing. We get kind of in sync with each other, enough so if a were bites someone, we know it. Since the penalty for turning another human is death, it’s not done much these days.”
Death? Shit, these guys didn’t mess around. Dozens of questions sprang to her mind, but Gen kept quiet. Let him move at his own pace. Vincent seemed in the mood to talk, and she suspected it was easier for him outside in his element, with their faces in shadow.
“Weres are being phased out. Our leaders decided the time had come to bring an end to our kind. Around 1910, the weres who wanted to continue the line and those who knew it should stop battled it out. The regional leaders, the Regents, now all agree to finish our race with this generation. Which is why the punishment for turning another person is so severe.”
She heard what sounded like apology in his tone and realized he was sharing a part of his life that caused him shame. Killing members of your group, not something one advertised with pride.
“We, uh…” Vincent cleared his throat. “We also kill humans who publicly talk about weres.”
Gen pulled away. “You kill them? You murder innocent people?”
“It doesn’t happen much. Only twice in the last ten years.” Now he turned his head fully away from her, picked up a stick from the ground, and began tracing in the dirt.
Gen had seen all the movies depicting werewolves as crazed killers, with blood dripping from their fangs and deadly claws, but knew those were the work of Hollywood’s overactive imagination. Real werewolves wouldn’t call attention to themselves by killing needlessly. Probably. But shit, what did she know about werewolves? Apparently nothing.
“Does Morgan know about this?”
“Yes. Maybe. We’re supposed to notify any humans we’re, uh, involved with. Which is one reason most pack members don’t tell their friends and relatives about their change.”
“And how about the humans who are killed? Don’t the cops investigate these murders?”
“We have a team that goes in, makes it look like an accident. Shit, Gen, I know it sounds brutal, but if humans knew we existed, they’d tear us apart trying to learn our secrets. We keep to ourselves as much as we can, honest. Most people who do know about weres have the good sense not to go spreading the word around. You witches know we exist, and you keep quiet.”
“I thought you existed, at least long ago. I figured you were extinct. I’d never actually met a werewolf. If I had, well, who would I tell anyway?”
“News people. Reporters. Doctors. People with a lot of money who like to collect freaks.”
He had a point. There were strange people in the world, some with grisly hobbies.
“Couldn’t you just, I don’t know, threaten them, make them be quiet? Anyway, once someone starts blabbing, it’s too late, right?”
“The point of the death penalty is to set an example, first of all, and second, if a human mouths off once, we figure they’ll do it again. Usual
ly when a human starts a rant in a public place, the were can get them out and quiet before too much damage is done. Like I said, it doesn’t happen much. Last two cases, it was young weres, didn’t have enough sense to shut up in time. Another were reported them and…”
Vincent ran his hand through his hair.
“The Howlers and most other weres…We’re not monsters. We’re regular people. Not regular, exactly, but trying to live as normally as possible. Hell, we have a fundraiser once a year, give the money to charity. We don’t go looking for trouble. But I want you to know, before you get involved.”
Involved. Such an innocent word. Involved was for online chat groups and garden clubs and bowling leagues, not for scary beasts who killed. Entangled would be closer to what happened in werewolf-land. Gen brushed away a piece of soot that flew from the fire. Witches had taken harsh measures over the years to make sure their secrets weren’t discovered. A trail of blood followed her people too. She had no right to judge what others did. Now, while Vincent seemed in the mood to talk, she had to know more about him. This subject could wait for another day.
“Dylan seems to think your meetings are kind of brutal, that there’s a lot of fighting going on.”
“Yeah, we do fight. Helps release aggression.” Relief at the change of subject sounded in his tone, and he stopped playing with the stick and threw it on the fire. “We don’t hold grudges and we heal fast. Lots of us have ‘anger management issues.’” He made air quotes with his fingers. “You’re right, we are pissed off, having our lives changed. It takes an effort to control the rage sometimes. And, I’m pretty sure just being a were amps up the anger. Though of course, no scientific studies have been done. I try to get my pack to exercise and find other ways to blow off steam.”
“Like what?”
“Sex is a good one.”
Gen crossed her legs. How did he make that word sound so…sexy? A line of sweat formed on her brow, and not just from the heat of the fire. Vincent moved closer.
“I’m probably different from most guys you date.”
“Way different.”
“In a good way. No, a great way.”
Genevieve laughed. “Not overly modest, are you?”
“Nope. I’m proud of myself. I’m proud of my business, my pack, my body. I’ve done a lot of work over the years to get where I am, and I’m not going to act all humble.”
“You shouldn’t.”
They were both quiet for a moment, watching the fire.
“Have I managed to turn you off yet? Scared you away?” With one finger, Vincent gently moved her chin, tipping her face toward him.
In his dark eyes she saw unease, despite the sureness of his words.
“I’m also the leader of a pack of werewolves who need my attention. I work long hours with my job and the pack, and now and then my phone rings all night. Once a month, sometimes more, I turn into a wolf and hunt, kill, and eat animals.”
Gen caught her breath.
“Now are you scared?” he asked, lowering his lips toward hers.
A little, but not only for the reasons he thought. Vincent stirred feelings in her, desires she’d buried long ago and had no intention of digging up until she’d met him.
The kiss started slow, tentative, as though he were gauging her response. Beneath the gentle movements of his lips she detected a hunger, a need, so close to the surface she could taste it. His scent, which had tantalized her as soon as she’d come near him, rose stronger, sending a burst of moisture between her legs. She moaned, the arousal that had begun the moment they’d touched scorching a path down her nerves. Her body moved almost of its own accord, leaning into him. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue and the feel of his arms pulling her in, suddenly desperate to be closer to him, to feel the warmth of his body, the touch of his fingers caressing her skin.
He cupped the back of her head with one hand as he increased the intensity of the kiss. The other hand slipped under her shirt and curled around her ribs. He was hot, warmer than her own body temperature. His thumb stroked her stomach, and then his hand moved up until he reached her bra.
In the distance an owl hooted. The fire snapped and crackled, but these sounds only dimly registered. In the forefront of her senses she heard Vincent’s breath and her own, both coming fast and hard. He cupped her breast over the fabric and squeezed, then with a moan, tore his mouth from hers and moved it to her neck. He kissed and licked there, biting the skin lightly with his teeth. She felt his body shudder and suspected he held back from what he really wanted to do to her.
He pulled away again and reached in his pocket.
“Look, I’m turning off my phone. I don’t very often, but I need uninterrupted time with you.”
His voice, hoarse with desire, sent molten flames licking at her spine. She took the moment apart from him to catch her breath. Did she have a blanket in her car? She longed to get out of her clothes, to feel his naked body on top of hers. Skin to skin, soft on hard.
He cupped her cheeks with hot, rough hands she had to have touching her body. Now.
“Tell me if I’m going too fast. I want you so bad.”
Too fast? Hell no. She could not wait to run her fingers along every inch of him, to touch him everywhere. Start with the rough stubble on his face, move down his neck, through the hair on his chest. Then stroke his firm stomach, over that low patch of hair, down to his cock. It’d be hard, so hard, and would fill her hand like she was meant to hold it.
“No, please, don’t stop.” Oh God, was that her, begging like a dog in heat?
His mouth covered hers hungrily, and he crushed her body to him again, this time with both strong arms. His hands roamed up her back and trembled slightly as they caressed her. He undid her bra, then slid his fingers to her breasts and brushed his thumbs against her taut peaks.
She whimpered into his mouth. Her nipples had hardened the moment he touched her; they were now painfully erect, and she longed for him to take them in his mouth. As though reading her mind he grabbed her sweater and bra and pushed the clothing up to her chin, then bent his head to her breast. He licked and sucked one while his thumb and forefinger fondled the other, the movement flooding a current of desire from her scalp to her toes.
As often happened when she became sexually stimulated while outdoors, the elements responded to her growing excitement. The wind blew, rustling the fallen leaves, and the fire flared up, matching the burning heat in her core. No one had ever stirred such passion in her, such longing for more. She’d not let herself feel this deeply with a man. Never. She undid the fastener on her jeans and pulled down the zipper, then guided Vincent’s hand there.
He continued his attention to her breasts and slipped a hand inside her pants. Cupping her pussy with his palm, he used one finger to stroke and probe through her underwear. She squirmed in his hand, desperate to have him go deeper. He finally pushed the elastic aside and eased his finger into her slick folds. She knew she must be sopping wet by now. Tilting her pelvis, she begged him with her body to rub her clit, pushing into his hand. She was wound up like a vintage alarm clock; it wouldn’t take much to send her over the edge.
Finally he touched her nub, ever so gently. She groaned in frustration, and he growled, the sound sending even more currents of heat through her.
“I’m taking my time with you, woman. I want you hot.”
“If I get any hotter I’ll turn into steam. I need to…”
A sudden noise interrupted.
“My phone. It’ll stop. You, keep going.” She pushed harder against his hand.
The phone stopped ringing, but the buzz of a text notification followed.
“Hold on.” With one hand still grasping Vincent she groped in the dark with the other. Fumbling in her purse she finally located the buzzing instrument. Damn, she was so close to release it hurt! How could she forget to turn off her phone? She glanced at the screen and stopped.
“Well, hell. It’s a text. Someone just broke i
nto my shop.”
Chapter 5
With a tremendous effort, Vincent pulled away from Genevieve. He could barely hear over the pounding of his heart. Did she just say her shop had been broken into? He blew out a breath.
“Who is that?”
“It’s Sheriff Packard. He doesn’t say much. I’ve got to call him back.”
She stood up and punched the numbers to return his call.
“Sheriff, it’s Genevieve Birch. Did you just call and text me that my shop was broken into?”
She listened intently, and with his advanced hearing, Vincent caught a few phrases the sheriff said. Two of her neighbors had been driving by her shop, saw someone inside, and had started banging on the windows, scaring the burglar away.
“I have to get back there. I’ve got to see if anything is missing or damaged.” She zipped up her jeans.
“I’ll follow you.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I can’t leave you in danger. Why would someone break into your shop?”
“I have no idea. I don’t have anything of great value in it, and I don’t leave cash there overnight.”
She struggled to put her clothes back in order.
“Hold on.” Standing behind her, Vincent moved her hair to the front, pulled her bra into place and fastened it, hands trembling. He hoped to hell whoever did this was still around so he could punch him in the face. Hard. His cock pressed painfully against his jeans. Another few minutes and it would have been in Genevieve’s hand.
Say something, anything. Comfort her, you idiot. Vincent didn’t do comforting well and didn’t like to lie. What could he say? Don’t worry, everything will be fine? Maybe he should tell her how much she excited him, how he couldn’t wait to…No, hell no. Inappropriate. The woman just had her shop broken into. She didn’t want to hear his horny bullshit.
“I’ll be right behind you. Got to put this fire out. Can you get to the highway?”
Sins of Long Ago Page 7