by Selena Blake
His head reared back slightly. Good. Just in case he didn’t get the picture, she sent him a parting thought.
Next time you hit on a woman, make sure you don’t reek of your last one.
His thick brown brows rose. Did he really think the women on this island were that easy? Or desperate? Pity. The chase was half the fun. A wolf should know that.
Frowning, he nodded and then took a step back.
Out of sight, out of mind. She wouldn’t dwell on him for another second.
Where was the wolf she was interested in? Was it his gaze that she felt so heavily? If so, why didn’t he come to her? Was he staring at her while he entertained another woman?
No. She didn’t want to believe he was that kind of man. In her mind, she’d built him up to be a fantastic lover who had eyes only for her. But fantasy wasn’t reality. And all she really needed was a hard cock to scratch her itch. Anyone would do. Right? She giggled at herself and signaled to the waiter for a cocktail.
How many was that? Three? Or was it four? It didn’t matter. The blissful buzz humming through her veins would burn off soon anyway. Pity.
As the waiter flashed off to get her drink it was impossible not to relive the moment she’d seen her wolf for the first time. So tall. Packed with muscles and undeniably strong. Ridiculously handsome. Long dark hair.
She’d almost not recognized him tonight because his smile had transformed him so completely. In stark contrast to the last time she’d seen him, tonight he’d seemed at ease. Relaxed in the casual environment.
The years had been good to him.
Those cool gray eyes of his still had the power to make her forget her own name.
Okay, maybe she didn’t need that drink. If she was smart, she’d go find a man to end her drought. Someone tall. With a sexy smirk. And cool gray eyes. Yes, that’d do nicely.
Coco pushed away from the table and teetered on the uneven stones. The strappy sandal-style wedges had looked really cute at the store but she should have switched to flip flops before leaving the cottage. What was the point of showing off her legs when she spent half the night wobbling around like a clown on stilts?
Shoulders back, she glanced around the terrace. Bodies everywhere and yet not the one she was -- ahh. There. Seated just outside the door. Alone. Looking right at her.
She stared at him for several long moments. He stared right back.
He was alone. She was alone. There was no war, no battle between their kinds. Nothing standing in their way.
Except her friendship with Izzy. And despite what her coven might think, sex with a werewolf was just sex. Hot, sweaty sex.
She wouldn’t make the same mistake as last time. No. She would not sleep tonight without knowing the power of his kiss. But not here. Not in such a public place where word could get back to Izzy that Coco was kissing the enemy.
She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. Wolf.
He inclined his head, one single graceful nod. Vamp.
Coco wasn’t opposed to doing the chasing, but tonight she felt like being pursued. Letting her gaze linger a moment longer, she offered him an inviting smile.
Then she turned and strode toward the beach. At the edge of the terrace, she took the boardwalk back the way she’d come. A tendril of excitement wound around her. The sparks were still there, arcing between them. Perhaps if she didn’t stop at an almost-kiss this time, she could finally get him out of her head.
When she came to the end of the boardwalk and found an expanse of sand before her, she knew she’d gone the wrong way. That’s what she got for walking around preoccupied. Not to mention, she’d failed to memorize the map during the plane ride the way Ceara had. With tall trees and thick shrubbery surrounding her, it was hard to tell exactly where she was. But the path before her was clear and lit by small lanterns. And she had no doubt that her wolf was right behind her.
She stepped into the sugar-soft sand and the chunky heels sank. Her arms flailed as her ankles twisted. Years of battle had taught her how to stay upright in the toughest conditions. Her lightning-fast reflexes kicked in and she righted herself before frowning down at the shoes. Bending at the waist, she unbuckled the straps and slipped her feet out. The hair on the back of her neck stood up as a shadow fell across the sand at her feet.
“For a minute there, I thought you didn’t remember me.” Without even looking at his face, she knew the deep masculine voice belonged to her wolf.
Straightening, she pulled her shoulders back and felt the tingle of awareness course through her. Slowly, at first. A shiver across the shoulders, then lower. Her nipples beaded under his gaze. He was direct, she’d give him that. The tingle turned to a full on desire as he finished his survey.
When she’d told the girls she wanted adventure, somewhere in the back of her mind she’d meant that she wanted to cross paths with this man again. Of all the handsome men she’d met in her abnormally long life, he was the one who stood out head and shoulders above the rest.
Kissable lips. Strong jaw free of stubble. And in this century, his brown hair seemed streaked with gold. A little on the long side, it hung over his forehead and curled against his neck. Her fingers itched to run through it.
Before she could form a reply, he circled her, just as he had that day so long ago. Looking for a weakness. Studying her as an opponent. But just as on that day, there was something else in his eyes. A banked desire that left her weak in the knees.
“Maybe this will refresh your memory.” He tossed a stick at her. Barely giving her time to adjust her grip, he swung at her with his own faux blade. The wood clanked together, vibrations ran up her arm. She couldn’t have stopped the smile that curved her lips if she’d wanted to. Years of tutelage came back in an instant and she was once again a vampire warrior.
Just like that day in the forest, they parried. Back and forth. Sandals tossed aside and forgotten, she jabbed at him. He still moved like lightning, dodging her blade, swinging his own. Abs tight, air hissed between her lips as she spun around a towering palm tree. He was waiting for her on the other side as she brought the stick down. He blocked it easily, his strength surpassing her own.
Just as she had all those years ago, she admired how graceful he was. Many of the werewolves she’d fought were big, lumbering hunks of muscle. They were all brawn, whereas this wolf clearly thought ahead. Anticipating her movements. And despite his size and muscle mass, he was light on his feet.
Pushing against him, she flashed, spinning behind him. He anticipated her movement again and his faux blade was there, across his shoulder, blocking hers.
One hundred years hadn’t dulled his skills. He was still one of the best warriors she’d ever come across regardless of species. His reflexes were quick; his movements, sure, his sense of space, divine.
They shoved apart again and he spun around. Sword against sword, they came back together immediately. Motionless, they stared at each other, breathing hard. Since she’d barely exerted herself, her oxygen deprivation had more to do with the adrenaline rushing through her. The desire.
A second ticked by. Then another. And then, as if a rubber band had stretched too far… the tension between them snapped.
“Or maybe this,” he said, grabbing her wrist and hauling her close. They released their weapons in unison.
Though it was a different time and place, the confusion was still written on his face as he studied her. Wanting each other this way wasn’t natural. Certainly not as badly as she wanted him right now.
One hundred years ago she’d been surrounded by allies and enemies. Dozens of individual battles between vampire and werewolf. Dozens of reasons to hate each other. The sounds and the stench had made it impossible to forget that they were on opposite sides of an invisible line. Destined to fight each other. Hate each other.
But their connection had blurred that line.
Now, the line was gone.
The war had been over for a hundred years. They weren’t exactly enemies anym
ore. And this time, surrounded by lush jungle, they were very much alone.
“I remember everything,” she whispered, her fangs lengthening.
“This?” he whispered, a large hand splaying across her lower back. Hot. Strong. Possessive. Pulling her closer until their hips brushed.
“Yes.” The word came out as a hiss.
He took her hand and laid it over his heart. The organ beat out a steady rhythm against her palm. She soaked in the heat of his skin, the strength of his chest. “And this?” he asked, his deep voice seducing her as easily as his touch.
“Yes.”
She remembered the sound of his heartbeat thundering in her ears. His pulse, visible in the strong artery in his neck. She’d wanted to taste his blood, sink her fangs into him as he entered her.
She still wanted that.
He cupped her cheek with his other hand and dipped his head. The light from a nearby lamppost lit his eyes. Just as they had all those years ago, his irises flared, and for the briefest of seconds she thought that maybe he could see to the depth of her soul. No one, not even Valencia and certainly not Dmitri, had ever studied her so intensely.
“And this?” he murmured again, their lips less than a centimeter apart.
She smelled whiskey on his breath, one more memory of this night. All she had to do was close the distance and find out if he kissed as well as he did in her dreams.
Just like that night on the battlefield, his thumb traced her jaw line. And just like that night, desire warred with the knowledge that they were not destined to be together.
But she hadn’t come to Mystic Isle for together-forever. She’d come for hot-shout-my-name-sex. She’d come here… to come.
So this time when he glanced back and forth, staring so deeply into her eyes, gauging her response, she let her lips do the talking.
He moaned when she closed her eyes, stretched up the last fraction of an inch, and sealed her lips to his. They went straight past soft-and-exploratory into hot-and-heavy. Her free arm wrapped around his neck so she could get as close as possible. His lips moved against hers, firm and surprisingly soft.
He angled his head and opened his mouth, sucking her bottom lip inside. A pang of white-hot lust shot straight down her spine and took up residence between her legs.
A master. She’d known he would be. It was all there in how he carried himself. How coiled and ready and intense he was. All things she’d noticed that night all those years ago before her coven-mate had crashed through the underbrush, hell-bent on killing the man in her arms.
But this time, in this century, they didn’t have to stop. Her handsome wolf knew that.
His teeth grazed her skin over and over, and then he kissed her gently to soothe the wounds, slowly driving her wild. So he was a biter. She should have figured.
Lips curving up into a smile, she turned the tables on him and nipped his lower lip. The growl that rumbled from his chest sent a shockwave of pleasure through her. How did he manage to sound so predatory and so pleased at the same time?
Holding her tight, he backed them up three steps until her back hit something solid and rough.
The last time she’d been in his arms, she’d worn a thin plate of body armor. This time, the only thing separating them was a thin cotton dress and a pair of swim trunks. Instead of a blood-drenched sword, he wielded a potent kiss.
She wanted more. Needed to feel all those rock-hard muscles beneath her hands. Still fused at the lip, she let her palms roam over his shoulders. So broad, so strong, she had no doubt he could easily carry her off somewhere and ravish her. The thought brought a smile to her lips. He nipped her playfully, gently.
She felt a large hand slide down her right hip, and hook behind her thigh. With her leg braced on his hip, he took full advantage, driving his hips and a solid erection against her pussy. “Yessss.” Parts she’d thought long dormant came back to life like a cataclysm. Every nerve ending from the tips of her toes to the crown of her head jolted awake, focused on the pleasure he gave her.
Not satisfied to stop with his shoulders, she trailed her hands down over his broad chest, curving against his well-defined pecs. Then lower, trailing each abdominal muscle with her fingertips. It’d been a long time since she’d felt such an incredible washboard up close and personal.
He growled again.
This wolf was absolute perfection. And the way he trailed his lips down her jaw to the hollow of her throat… she was whimpering by the time he worked his way back up to her lips.
Needy and mad with desire, she reached for the drawstring of his shorts and undid the bow. Then, with a feminine growl of her own, she shoved them down his hips.
A deep laugh rumbled from his chest. “You are an impatient little thing, aren’t you?” She loved his accent. English and yet somewhat Americanized.
It took a bit of acrobatics with her teetering on one foot, but she freed the cock she’d been dreaming about for a century. And then, in the darkness, she wrapped her hands around it, testing its size and weight.
The wolf ducked his face against her throat as she caressed him. Satiny-soft skin slid through her palms as he pumped himself against her. The way he radiated heat, she could be forgiven for thinking she held a nuclear power rod in her hands. She soaked in his warmth, craved it almost more than an orgasm.
When she cupped his balls, his hips drove against her.
“Need,” he growled against her throat.
“Take,” she whispered back.
His response was swift. The bark of the palm tree dug into her shoulders as his hands gathered the material of her dress. She slid her hands up his torso and hooked them over his shoulders, ready for the ride of a lifetime.
Blinded by need, Grayson slid his left hand into the front of her panties, made a fist, and yanked them from her body. The fabric made a pleasing ripppp sound, and she yelped. Smiling, he tossed it over his shoulder. The beauty in his arms didn’t protest. Merely blinked up at him, those unusual eyes alight with passion, lids at half-mast.
Without a barrier in the way, he tested her readiness and found her wet. He hadn’t even touched her breasts. The fact that she was as turned on as he was made him want to kiss her again, but he didn’t. He couldn’t tear his gaze from her face as he slid the tip of his index finger down the hood of her clit. Her eyelashes fluttered and a delicate sigh left her lips.
He continued circling her clit, and she thrust her hips against his hand in time with his movements. Her throaty gasps made him harder by the second. She was just as responsive as he’d thought she’d be. Passionate. Willing. The perfect partner.
Crying out, her hips jerked against his hand, driving his finger between her silky, sopping-wet lips. A full body tremor shook her. With his right hand braced against the tree, he kept her tucked into the bend of his arm, fingering her.
He loved the sound of delight echoing from her lips as she clung to him. And he loved the way that she lost herself in the experience, her guard completely down, allowing him to shelter, protect, and please her.
He added a second finger, twisting, preparing her. Then a third. She thrust her hips against him, almost frantic as her fingernails grazed his skin. “Hurry,” she moaned.
His thoughts exactly. They’d waited far too long for this. Far too long. Staring into the blue eyes that had haunted his dreams, he clasped her hips between his hands, lifting her a few inches higher. Just high enough that the tip of his cock nestled against the mouth of her pussy. Her lips parted in anticipation. He brushed a kiss across her full lower lip and then drove himself home in a single fluid motion.
“Yes!” Her cry, muffled as it was against his lips, echoed through the tropical forest and a bird took flight overhead.
Skin against skin. At last.
Smiling against her cheek, he slowly withdrew, memorizing every sweet, wet inch of her. The way her pussy gripped him, as if it didn’t want to let him leave. He knew he had to make it last. Knew that these moments would be all he ha
d, all he’d be able to think about while stuck in a barren desert, sopping wet jungle, or frigid tundra.
Barren of life. Civilization. And beautiful women. Especially beautiful women who looked at him like she did.
She hooked her other leg over his hip and locked her ankles behind his back. Thoroughly wrapped up in her, her scent, her breathy little cries, he drove himself inside again. Held himself there, buried as far as he could go. If only he could stay like this forever. Feeling so complete, whole… as if this was where he was meant to be.
“Vite vite. I thought you’d have more stamina, wolf.”
Saucy minx. He’d show her stamina. Letting the tips of his fingers morph just enough that his claws came out, he hooked them into the rough bark of the palm tree.
Pain burned down his fingers but he fueled it all into his hips, knowing the pleasure would be that much sweeter. “Hold on, love.”
The energy of the wolf flowed through him, making him stronger, harder. The wet sheath wrapped around his cock made it hard to go slow, but he’d learned that the best things in life were worth waiting for. So he kept his rhythm just this side of glacial.
Obviously not liking his pace, she did her best to thrust against him.
“No way, vamp. You questioned my stamina.”
“You’re noble at a time like this?”
“When your legs are wrapped around me? Absolutely.”
“I wouldn’t--” She tipped her head back against the tree trunk and used the extra leverage to thrust her hips. “--have expected that.”
With her wedged right where he wanted her, it was easy to kiss and nibble his favorite parts. Like the shell of her ear. The tip of her chin.
“I would hope you like that about me,” he murmured against her throat.
She rolled her head to the side, giving him easier access. Did she realize how symbolic the action was? A vamp never let anyone get close to her neck… not unless…
“I do. But I’d love it if you’d make me come.”
“La petite mort, that is what you want?”
He kept up the painstakingly slow pace that would surely drive them both mad.